The release of the national census data always attracts media interest and public attention.
How many of us … where do we live … what do we do. A great deal of attention to changes in the religious profile and the statistic that, for the first time in the history of census records, less than half of the population indicated they had some connection with Christianity. Much has been written about this revelation.
The 2010 Australian Christian Book of the Year – Losing My Religion: Unbelief in Australia – dealt extensively with the religion question in the census (which hasn’t changed since the first census) and why it wasn’t a very well-worded question … and why whatever figure it produced needed to be treated with considerable caution.
It does not differentiate between believing, behaving or belonging …
It does not differentiate between unbelief, disbelief and non-belief …
It does not differentiate between theism, pantheism, atheism, agnosticism or anti-theism …
And it does not disclose the opinions and convictions of those who choose not to answer this entirely optional question or who have ‘spiritual views’ but do not consider them a religion.
I have long argued that, in the interests of clarity and candour, there ought to be two questions and the wording be different … because we can’t say much with confidence about this particular census statistic.
In sum, the census question is problematic … because what it is asking and why it matters is largely shaped by what you believe the person posing the question might be wanting to know.
Being in the minority does not concern me as a Christian, any more than voting for a minority political party concerns me. Majority opinion is no guarantee of wisdom, insight, accuracy or truthfulness. Whole populations can be swayed to embrace bad ideas and entire communities can adopt poor policies.
Groupthink and the herd mentality are always a danger, even for thinking, discerning people, especially when self-interest and personal gain are being dangled in front of us. Life asks each of us demanding, difficult and different questions … and my answer might not be your answer … assuming we are being asked the same questions … and I suspect we are not. I don’t drink alcohol and don’t have any problem with booze … but it might be a constant issue for you or someone you love. But I do have an issue with anger – mainly anger with myself and my failings – but this might not be troubling for you or someone close.
The problem is that we respond to cues from other people and, if challenged, we retreat into the crowd or justify our behaviour against a general standard. What do I mean by this? We can be easily influenced by others … hence the rise of Internet influencers. We usually prefer group norms in what we wear and in what we think because there is safety in numbers, hence the popularity of certain brands of footwear and the spread of political correctness. And we defend our behaviour by pointing to others – he or she did the same thing – or I am no worse than other people, so leave me alone.
I did not need the religion statistic in the census data to tell me that professing to be a Christian is increasingly fraught in contemporary Australia. After all, there are Christians who hold beliefs that are weird, uninformed, unscientific, prejudiced and dangerous. And that’s just my view. And there are churches with attitudes to public policy and government decision-making that I find deplorable, if not despicable, because they claim expertise on complex matters of administration to which they are not entitled, and exude an inability to grapple with complicated philosophical issues.
There are many reasons to dismiss so-called Christian principles and to disregard the Christians who promote them. But … and here I speak for myself … I am left with the words and works of Jesus … I am confronted with his claims and questions … and I believe he will not let me go as he invites us (invites, not coerces) to follow him into a broader, deeper and richer experience of being human and points us to the door to eternity. It is an invitation he has laid before Carter which others – his parents and godparents – are taking up on his behalf.
During his earthly ministry, Jesus attracted many, many people by what he said and did. He had authority and authenticity. He was real … and he addressed the fears and the longings of those he encountered and engaged. There were certainly difficult aspects of his teaching … and on three occasions, Jesus was conscious that the demanding questions being asked of his closest disciples were being deflected by an appeal to broader sentiment.
On the first occasion, he said to them: “Who do the people say that I am?” They rattled off the range of opinion they had detected among the crowd. When the options were laid on the table, he looks them all in the face and says: what about you? After a potentially haunting pause, Peter says: “You are the Christ, the promised one, the Son of the Living God”. You, Jesus of Nazareth, you are the embodiment of God in human form. This is a turning point in their journey with Jesus.
On the second occasion, Jesus was telling a large crowd of people that he was food from heaven. He was trying to explain that his self-offering would fulfil their spiritual hunger. The crowd found these metaphors difficult to understanding and started to drift away until only the 12 disciples remained.
In what seems a moment of despair at the lack of spiritual vision from his hearers, he laments: “And what of you, will you too leave me?” And again it is Peter who answers: “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God.”
And the third occasion, and unsurprisingly it also involves Peter, is recorded in the Bible reading that Jo brought to us a few moments ago. It occurs after Peter has denied three times that he even knew Jesus and after Jesus has appeared to the disciples following his death by crucifixion. One disciple, Judas, betrayed Jesus and hanged himself. Another, Thomas, doubted his master could overcome death. And Peter abandoned Jesus in his hour of need – and no doubt felt overwhelming despair. Jesus rehabilitates Peter by asking him, on three occasions, not whether he knows him … but whether he loves him.
It is an intensely intimate scene. And then Peter notices that another disciple, John, is following behind and is distracted by his presence. “What about him?” Peter asks. Jesus replies: “Don’t worry about him … my relationship with you is not influenced by whatever I may have said to him or whatever I might have asked him to do”. Jesus is clear: I am asking you to follow me and I am inviting you to fulfil your calling.
Everyone who hears the words of Jesus, both then and now, is invited to consider his identity, reflect on his questions, weigh his claims and respond to his invitation. Forget others and do not be distracted by them: the invitation to follow is individual … as unique as our genetic make up … to follow Jesus, to discover our identity, to find our vocation and to reach our destiny. We will recognise there are converging paths as we follow Jesus but our journey is ours, and no-one else’s because only we can hear God call our name.
This is true for Carter as he grows up in a world of colliding convictions and declining consensus. It is the hope and prayer of Lisa and Matt, and his very earnest big sisters, that he recognises the voice of Jesus, despite the noise of popular culture, and that he sees others striving to live like Jesus … overcoming ego, and selfishness and greed … pursuing faith, hope and love … striving to live in a manner that enriches the world, others and self as a priority … and believing that death is not the end but the beginning of a new mode of existence because the love of God will never let us go. None of this is easy or straightforward. Speaking as a recovering hypocrite, I still have much to learn but I am grateful for the presence and the encouragement of those who seek the same things, and we pledge ourselves to point Carter towards the truth and the life that is offered in Jesus Christ, symbolised in baptism.