The Sounds of Grace
We’re in the playground choosing teams for netball, or touch footy, or something like that. We’re in the crowd waiting for selection and we know what the waiting can be like. We know who will be the first picked and we know where our chances lie, so we stand with those who will either provide
We’re in the playground choosing teams for netball, or touch footy, or something like that. We’re in the crowd waiting for selection and we know what the waiting can be like. We know who will be the first picked and we know where our chances lie, so we stand with those who will either provide comfort, or enhance our reputation by comparison.
I know the devastation of not being chosen at all when cricket was on offer, and I know the pleasure of being chosen early when the sport had more intentional contact. There were some for whom the former experience was common; after a while they didn’t bother to offer themselves.
This week we heard a few times about the ones who are always chosen (or the choosers) and the ones who are not.
The anachronism of knights and dames has been revivified and those who are pre-eminent can now be permanently tagged as such. As if people of such honour and gentility as Quentin Bryce, Peter Cosgrove and William Deane need any more accolades than being named as Governor-General of Australia, reflecting the achievements which brought them there.
The Prime Minster referred to this decision as a “grace note”, but I am not sure I understand grace in the same way. Grace is a gift undeserved – generosity and hope beyond measure or expectation.
There has been another conversation – far more disturbing and of far more consequence – as we have debated the tone of racism in our public life. It always concerns me when the choosers and those regularly chosen offer insights about those who are not; as when wealthy, educated, middle-aged white men (and I speak as one) offer their opinion on how life feels for those who are not white, not wealthy, not educated, or not male.
When the grace note chimes in Scripture, the eighth, not-so-eminent son of Jesse (who wasn’t even invited to team selection) is anointed as King of Israel. When the chimes ring, a man who is beggared by blindness has light appear in his life, and a Samaritan discard is told she is not only valuable, but worth God’s blessing.
We are followers of Christ, not the culture; a Christ who chooses the least and calls them first. The forgiveness and love we have received we offer in turn as sounds of hope to those who have long given up waiting to be chosen.
What music shall we follow?