Sue and I love to travel. It’s our indulgent joy. For more than two decades we’ve especially enjoyed south-east Asia. We love the food, culture, history, beauty and especially the people across the region. Bali only dropped onto our list of places visited recently. We loved it.
When we travel, we walk. A lot. In Bali’s travel-snarled and narrow streets, walking is an adventure in itself. Drinking in all you see, you can’t help noticing how deeply religious this island is, with temples and altars everywhere. More than Adelaide is the city of churches, Bali is the island of temples. When you walk in Bali, whether it’s the hills of Ubud, the lazy streets of Sanur or the boutique-rich roads of Canggu, you’re always stepping around colourful and reverently prepared street sacrifices – canang sari.
Canang sari offerings are expressions of Bali’s rich Hindu culture. Every morning, they are placed on footpaths, in front of homes, businesses and at intersections. Every 10 metres or so, another canang sari lays on the ground. Small, palm leave woven baskets are adorned with incense, flowers, small paper notes and coins, and other common materials. Selflessly prepared daily by Balinese women, as best I can understand from my reading since, they are expressions of gratitude to, and honour for, the gods – as well as sacrifices to placate demons.
While it’s disrespectful to step on canang sari when incense is still burning, it’s expected these daily offerings will be destroyed by end of the day. Walking in the early evening, you see trampled offerings everywhere. It got me thinking.
One of the (many) things I love about travel is the exposure it offers to cultures and faith traditions different to mine – and the opportunity to reflect in light of what I see. While it is very different to my faith in both belief and practice, there is so much to learn from Balinese Hinduism and the way it is integrated into everyday life. Christians don’t have anything resembling daily offering rituals like canang sari. But we are called to offer our bodies daily as a “living sacrifice” (Romans 12:1-2) in response to Jesus – he who is our Trampled Sacrifice.
The radical heart of the Christian faith is God entering our world in human form to serve and give his life for us (Mark 10:45). Isaiah said of Jesus:
Surely he took up our pain
and bore our suffering,
yet we considered him punished by God,
stricken by him, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions,
he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
and by his wounds we are healed.
– Isaiah 43:4-5
Crushed – trampled. Jesus is our trampled sacrifice. As we experience this season of Lent leading up to Easter, in the shadow of Calvary and by the light of an empty tomb, we rejoice that no longer do we need to make sacrifices day after day, no longer do we need to shed blood in the temple. He laid down his life for us; his blood was shed for us, he was trampled for us.
I’m humbled by just how profoundly Balinese Hinduism is integrated into daily life. It teaches and challenges me a lot. And I am humbled far more still by Jesus and his wonderous cross:
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were a present far too small.
Love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
– Isaac Watts
Every blessing,
Rev Stu Cameron
CEO and Superintendent, Wesley Mission
