Let it be!

Today´s service I carried the virgin Mary (or her statue to be more specific) in our procession to the altar. I must confess I was a bit nervous about the whole affair, being a fiery Lutheran and all. Isn´t it a bit, well, too Catholic for comfort?

Not so at all! As our hard-core-rites-and-incense priest in our little parish said in his sermon, “Our love for mother Mary should be boundless”. Why so? Because if she had failed when God called, there wouldn´t be any Christians, there wouldn´t be any church, there wouldn´t be any parish. We would still be heathens, the Jews would still be (failing) under the yoke of the Law, the love of God would still be like rain falling on barren earth evaporating quickly. God so trusted Mary he put everything on her shoulders (or in her womb to be more specific). It would be easy to imagine her terrified at that responsibility, but not Mary, she simply says her: Let it be!

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
there will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
there will be an answer. let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

That´s the Beatles talking, most likely Paul, hard to imagine John writing this...

Mary is quite gifted with words also, as in the Magnificat we recite on occasions (such as this):

And Mary said:
"My soul glorifies the Lord
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
for he has been mindful
of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
holy is his name.
His mercy extends to those who fear him,
from generation to generation.
He has performed mighty deeds with his arm;
he has scattered those who are proud in their inmost thoughts.
He has brought down rulers from their thrones
but has lifted up the humble.
He has filled the hungry with good things
but has sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
remembering to be merciful
Luke 1:46-54

In Swedish we say blissful rather than blessed, which I like better. Mary is happiest among women! But, as Bengt (our liturgy-liking priest) remarked, Mary is also a problem, for many people and for many different reasons. For the feminists, she´s the very image of dualistic “woman-thinking”, the Madonna and the Whore. For the Lutheran faith police, she should be revered with moderation, lest we become Mary-worshippers (fat chance of that happening...). For the materialists, she´s too supernatural with that whole immaculate conception affair. As an aside in this regard it could be mentioned that ancient people weren´t fools, already before I Newton, A Kinsey and K G Hammar (the Swedish arch-bishop, God bless him) it was common wisdom how babies were conceived. Let´s face it, apart from Mary and Joseph, who on earth could believe such a story? The neighbours surely didn´t. Joseph´s family, probably not. The religious establishment in the town temple being kind and understanding? Think again. Yet Mary calls herself happiest of women, and expects generations after her to tell about that joy she felt, when she said to the Lord: May it be to me as you have said. Let it be! Words of wisdom.

The prodigal parable

This one will be good. Sure you have to bear with me on a bit of my usual ramblings, but the centerpiece is a beautiful little story from first century Palestine. Light a candle, find a comfy-chair and find out what all the fuss is about.

Jesus continued: "There was a man who had two sons. The younger one said to his father, 'Father, give me my share of the estate.' So he divided his property between them.
"Not long after that, the younger son got together all he had, set off for a distant country and there squandered his wealth in wild living. After he had spent everything, there was a severe famine in that whole country, and he began to be in need. So he went and hired himself out to a citizen of that country, who sent him to his fields to feed pigs. He longed to fill his stomach with the pods that the pigs were eating, but no one gave him anything.
"When he came to his senses, he said, 'How many of my father's hired men have food to spare, and here I am starving to death! I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired men.' So he got up and went to his father.
"But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.
"The son said to him, 'Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.'
"But the father said to his servants, 'Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let's have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' So they began to celebrate.
"Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. 'Your brother has come,' he replied, 'and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.'
"The older brother became angry and refused to go in. So his father went out and pleaded with him. But he answered his father, 'Look! All these years I've been slaving for you and never disobeyed your orders. Yet you never gave me even a young goat so I could celebrate with my friends. But when this son of yours who has squandered your property with prostitutes comes home, you kill the fattened calf for him!'
" 'My son,' the father said, 'you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.' "
Luke 15:11-

We owe St Luke quite a lot, not the least due to that he alone of the Gospel writers recorded this parable of Jesus for posterity. If we had to choose but one parable to keep and the others to be forgotten, my money is on this one.

It is found in a section where Jesus adresses the different fractions of his audience, beginning with lecturing the already-all-too-righteous Pharisees (who weren´t overly keen on being lectured), then scares away the hang-arounds (just in it for the ride) with some hard talk of bearing one´s cross, and with the disciples he puts an awesome responsibility on their shoulders. In short, he makes himself unpopular and uncomfortable. In between comes the sinners and the publicans (Roman tax collectors), and surprisingly Jesus comforts them. As in com-fort, strong-with, if I may dare some ethymological guesswork. If you don´t find this surprising, imagine yourself in the Pharisees situation and think again. The sinners had certainly in some way earned their name, and the tax collectors were the Quislings of their day.

Now we get into why this parable is currently prodigal, or squandered, wasted and driven away from the truth. The banale variant of interpretation is that the sinners were really better than the Pharisees, because they weren´t hypocritical, rather than take pride in righteousness they accepted they were corrupt people. This is actually worse than banale, it subverts the meaning of the parable in an utterly diabolical fashion. Because the difference between the two groups is one of pride vs shame. And what they have in common is that both pride and shame hinders them from pleading their cause with their Father. Both religious pride and worldly shame are thus obstacles to “coming to one´s senses”. But to take pride in sin is worse than all the rest.

Another popular slant of interpretation is that the son (i e me-in-debt-to-God) can safely remain where I am, and the father (God-the-giver-and-forgiver) will run quite a distance to help me, into the very brothel where I reside. He will indeed, but you have to turn, turn and turn again. The prodigal son is aware of his condition and confesses to it readily. He has wasted, and is wasted away. Why else would he need help? If you´re doing fine, why ask for help, and why give it if it´s not wanted? This is quite simply what´s called repentance, for those of you who wonder, and it´s a mighty fine thing. Greater still...

This son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.

At the end of the parable the religious professionals get a slight kick on the buttocks. In a very mild voice (who wouldn´t want to be reproved in this fashion?), God explains what the self-appointed saint can´t understand. How immensly cheap his salvation is, bought at such a price (the fattened calf...). And the moral for him is that for all those years of slaving, they didn´t even earn him a lousy goat. Why? Because he never asked. Because everything was his all along.

Heaven as the new Iceland?

-not necessarily so!

Iceland is a beautiful country. At least that´s what they tell me, those who are in the know of these things. And the pictures seem nice, it seems like the sort of place I´d like if I went there. Lava fields, hot geysers, green grass and archaic language, almost like a fairy-tale still absolutely authentic. Very different from my new everyday surroundings here in Kalmar in south-western Sweden.

But there´s something rotten in the state of Iceland. Those who live there seem to like to keep everyone away. It´s OK to admire from a distance, but Iceland is for the Icelandic people, not strangers with different customs, colour of skin and so on. Their culture has survived for millenia, but they still consider it very fragile, and every little word needs protection or else decay and chaos will be upon them. They used to be Vikings who sailed down to Constantinopel and back again, now if they see a Turk they go running for helpur at the nearest polisur stationur.

By now you realize this is a metaphor, because even the Icelandics aren´t that xenophobic, isolationist and overly protective. Where then am I heading with all this (got to stop giving it all away in the headline...)? I recently got a mail from a dear, though somewhat absent, friend of mine where he mentioned this blog as “interesting – and very religious”. And it struck me how exclusive that “very religious”-talk can be to some, notably those who should be most included, the children, the deprave, deprived and depressed people, sinners who see themselves as just sin and nothing more. To ordinary folk who haven´t heard of sin and Heaven since Sunday school a lifetime ago. For Jesus it seemed so easy, he is the personification of righteousness and didn´t budge one millimetre to the hedonists and talibans of his day, still those who didn´t fit in then current standards liked him. They even fled to him, like it was their only hope. They didn´t feel diminished, but strengthened, by his greatness and purity.

So I would just like to apologize for being overly Icelandic at times. It´s a beautiful country, and sometimes I get too keen to prove my citizenry. The truth is I got it for no effort of my own.

Then the chief captain came, and said unto him, Tell me, art thou a Roman? He said, Yea.
And the chief captain answered, With a great sum I obtained this freedom. And Paul said, But I was free born.
Acts 22:27-28