Those in Authority
1993 (Year A), 12 September / Pentecost 15
St Peter de Beauvoir Town
Our society seems to be in a state of terminal confusion about the nature and basis of authority. Hardly a day goes by without either the police, or the magistrates, or teachers or doctors or politicians or leaders of industry bemoaning the fact that no-one seems to accept traditional values or authority anymore. And the church endures a similar fate. One the one hand it’s suffering a loss of self-belief and on the other it’s either held up to ridicule seen as irrelevant.
When church leaders speak about things in society, they’re told to keep out of politics by the politicians they’re being critical of. And inside the church we’ve been trying to work out what is the ultimate authority for Christians is ever since Jesus told us to ‘Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.’
There was a time of course when the Ten Commandments provided us with the final authority on how we are to behave. And there are those who point to the two great commandments of loving God and our neighbours as ourselves. That they say, is the basis, the authority from which all Christian action stems. Deciding what authority we should acknowledge and who should administer it is hard enough, then to work out if it is being administered properly and if not what we should do about it is almost too much to cope with.
Authority should enrich us, enliven us, quicken our hearts, take us outside ourselves, point us higher. The trouble is that so often it doesn’t. It points only to itself and it deadens our spirit. At some point all of us have to make a decision – either to accept an authority or not. To fight it or not. Yet that brings with it even more trouble because it seems that there are two kinds of people in the world. There are those born with strong hearts and courage, and there are those who are craven and clumsy.
I confess authority all seems to be a mystery – a story might help:
In Japan at the latter part of the last century many Christians were tortured because of their faith. They looked to a higher authority than the state and the established religion. In one village so the story goes there was a man called Kisuke. Physically he was huge but his cowardice belied his size and he was ineffectual no matter what task he was set to do. He tried all his might to succeed, but whether he was planting rice paddies, or harvesting the plants, his companions, unable to bear his clumsiness, would always have to lend a hand.
The village where Kisuke lived was raided one night by the authorities as they hunted Christians. Those who refused to renounce their faith were taken to a prison camp where they were tortured until they apostatised . ‘Be brave,’ said Kisuke’s friends, ‘pray to Santa Maria, be brave.’ But suddenly, as if he’d gone mad, Kisuke cried out in a loud voice to the warder, ‘Please forgive me, please forgive me.’ He was quickly hauled out of the prison and released and that was the last his friends saw of him.
Many of them died, twenty eight were kept for more than a year. They were forced into freezing water until about to expire and then they were put into individual boxes measuring a metre square. There was a hole at eye level to allow them to receive food. The Christians began to die one after another. One night sixteen forsook their faith. Ten remained. They were forced to watch as members of their families were killed in front of them.
One of the last to survive was a man called Kanzaburo. He stared through the hole of his cage and saw a beggar talking to an officer. Suddenly the officer raised his hand to beat the beggar who staggered backwards and fell. He was marched into the prison and as he too was about to be put into a cage, Kanzaburo recognised Kisuke. ‘Why did you come here?’ his voice filled with all the hate and spite he felt. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’ ‘Please forgive me, please forgive me’, a voice replied.
Kisuke had in fact spent the intervening time working as a fisherman, and one day he had seen officers forcing people onto boats. ‘Those are Christian prisoners,’ Kisuke’s employer had said. ‘They’re fools aren’t they?’
It happened just as Kisuke stood and was about to leave the beach. He heard a voice calling to him from behind. He turned round but there was no-one there. It was neither the voice of a man or a woman. But he heard the voice echoing clearly amidst the sound of the black oceans waves.
‘All you have to do is go back with the others. If you’re tortured again and you become afraid, it’s alright to run away. It’s alright to betray me. But go follow the others.’ Kisuke. stopped in his tracks and looked out at the sea. He pressed his fists against his face and wept allowed.
The next morning the officers unlocked the door of Kisuke’s cage. If he would not apostatise he would be thrown into the icy lake. As he listened to the rasp of the lock and to Kisuke’s faltering footsteps, Kanzaburo whispered, ‘Kisuke. If it hurts you, it’s alright to apostatise. It’s alright. The Lord Jesus is pleased just because you came here. He is pleased.’ AMEN