In the opening chapter of Rainbow Spirit Theology, written in 1997, the Rainbow Spirit elders recounted this story.
High on the branch of a Kauri pine in a Queensland rainforest, a small bird rests. Having previously fed on the sweet fruit of the ficus, the bird excretes seeds and leaves them in a small, wet patch of manure on the branch then flies away.
Several weeks later, in the humid conditions, one fertilized seed has sprouted many leaves. Long, hairlike roots have begin to snake downwards, seeking soil and moisture. The seed has come back to the land to grow and develop.
Having reached the humus rich floor of the rainforest, the parisitic fig draws aloft life giving nutrients.
In the months that follow, the young tree flourishes. High in the canopy, a trunk and branches are formed. Meanwile, the thin hairlike roots begin to embrace the host and thicken.
In time, the roots of the fig swell so much that the generous host is slowly crushed. The parasitic plant is commonly known as the strangler fig.
The elders go on to liken the strangler fig to the influence of Christian missionaries on Aboriginal nations. The rich, strong spirituality of the people, tall and proud like a kauri tree, is invaded by a little pile of turds. At first it seems harmless, but then the seed inside begins to strangle from the top down, at first concealing and then destroying the host. In case you missed it, the bird is the missionaries, and the poo is their message.
The elders are gracious in the description of some of the missionaries. Some tried to understand language and culture. Some tried to value the indigenous spirituality. But the Jesus they brought was a White Jesus, and with White Jesus came White culture. And this White culture believed unquestionably that pale skinned people were a superior race, and that darker skinned people existed to serve and submit.
The historical character we call Jesus was a brown. He had brown hair and brown eyes and brown skin. Look at the people of Yemen or Jordan or Palestine or Lebanon today – that’s what Jesus looked like. But behind our altar, Jesus as depicted as a white man, sitting amongst his white male followers. In the three stained glass windows on the wall, brown Jesus and his brown mother, are depicted as white people with Western European features. Even the angel is white.
Now, I’m not suggesting that we smash the windows and the faux-mosaic and throw them into the river. But I am suggesting that we have in this space - this space we have missed so much during the lockdown, this space we have worked so hard to restore and beautify – tangible examples of white supremacy. The artisans and donors, of course, did not set out to diminish people of colour. They did not get up in the morning saying ‘how can I use my skills and money to demean non-white people?’. They, like me, and like us, were so immersed in white supremacy that it was an unquestioned reality.
In Romans chapter five, St Paul, another brown man, invites us to boast in our sufferings. Why? Because ‘suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.’ Paul himself had known plenty of hardship, and the early Christians were maligned and persecuted. Yet their suffering was the seed of the church. The more they suffered, the more the church grew. They did not suffer because they suggested that everyone should be nice to each other. They did not suffer because they supported nice manners and op shops. They suffered because they advocated a radical equality in an empire built on hierarcgy, a priority for the poor in an empire that empowered the wealthy, and a commitment to nonviolent peacemaking in an Empire founded on violent conquest.
As Western Christianity declines, even in the loud and hip bits, Aboriginal Christianity is flourishing. It is flourishing with almost no money. They don’t have a gleaming headquarters on St George’s Terrace. They don’t have large chunks of land on which to build new housing estates. But they do have leaders who are openly confronting white supremacy in its many forms and boldly reading the scriptures through a decolonised lens. Boasting in their sufferings, these First Nations churches are declaring that it is not only that Black Lives Matter when it comes to public policy, but also that Black Lives Matter to God. A lot. Indigenous spirituality and leadership is flourishing while white churches fail because they are prepared to address the real issue confronting our society in the light of the God revealed in a Brown Jesus.
It is good to be here today, together. It is good to rejoice that The Rona went easy on us around here, and that severe financial hardship has largely been avoided. But the church of Brown St Paul, the church of Brown Jesus and his twelve Brown apostles, and the church so beloved of Our Brown Lady, Mother of Justice, is not a church that can boast in comfort and stability. We must ask ourselves to what suffering, what sacrifice, does God now call us? What must we endure for the good news?
If Christ’s death reconciles us to God, what price are we willing to pay to be reconciled to our fellow human beings?
The Lord Be With You