Who really has the power?
Pilate looks at the man in front of him and knows he has the power to sentence him to death or to release him.
Pilate’s spies were likely to have already given him information about this man, which adds an irony to the questioning. Pilate thinks this is about his own use of power – his power in relationship to his Roman superiors, his power in relation to the Jewish authorities on this troublesome trade route between the fertile farmland to the north and Rome.
The Jewish leaders are not overly submissive; they are waiting outside, not out of respect, but because they are not prepared to pollute themselves by stepping into his palace. Will Pilate give them what they want? What does he have to gain, or lose, by his response? Will he keep the peace, and the trade routes open, by compliance? Or can he annoy these troublesome people more by refusing their ‘request’ and showing them who is in charge? This is the level of human power use and abuse that faces Jesus.
The Jewish leaders waiting outside are so busy observing the purity regulations that they don’t even hear what Jesus has to say – it is one of those great ironies in the story of Jesus’ life – that when he makes the definitive statement about his divine kingship and his purpose, the key people are not there to hear it.
Pilate looks at this man without any visible trappings of power, and asks, possibly with a sneer, “Are you the king of the Jews.” He hears Jesus’ reply, but his understanding of power is purely political, and is related to domination and subjection, so he cannot understand. Jesus is talking of ideas ‘outside the box’ and Pilate, like so many before him in John’s telling of the story, just doesn’t get it.
Jesus, the powerless prisoner, descendant of King David, Son of the living God, submerging his divine power, undermining all definitions of worldly status, prepares to die for Barabbas and every Barabbas before and since, including you and me, and tells the truth, “My kingdom is not from this world.” I am a King… for this reason I was born, and for this I came into the world.” There is a double statement in there, “I was born”, and “I came” – I am of human and I am of heaven. I am outside your understanding and your experience.
Today’ reading is one of four that are programmed for the main service today, which marks the end of the church year, before we start the season of Advent next week, and answers the question, “Who is this man?” We’ve shared Psalm 93, which tells us
“the LORD is robed in majesty and is armed with strength…Your throne was established long ago; you are from all eternity”
The other readings, from Daniel and Revelation are written in that vivid apocalyptic style that tells us in pictures about the nature of God. The readings are detailed on the Housegroup notes.
In Daniel 7 we read of a vision of heaven in which the Ancient of Days is seated on a throne and the
“Son of Man is led into his presence and given authority, glory and sovereign power; all peoples, nations and men of every language worshiped him. His dominion is an everlasting dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never be destroyed.”
In the corresponding reading from Revelation 1 the same idea is echoed,
“Grace and peace to you from him who is, and who was, and who is to come, and from the seven spirits before his throne, and from Jesus Christ, who is the faithful witness, the firstborn from the dead, and the ruler of the kings of the earth.
It speaks of him, “who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood”, and “has made us to be a kingdom” and it speaks of a time when there will be no doubt about the nature of the kingdom, available to everyone and forever, “every eye will see him, even those who pierced him; and all the peoples of the earth will mourn because of him”
"I am the Alpha and the Omega," says the Lord God, "who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty”.
This isn’t a transitory empire or kingdom, like the Roman Empire or the USSR, this is forever, it exists now, and it is to come. This isn’t a message for a select few; this is a message for all of humanity, “every eye will see him”. It is for us, and for those we look down on, and those we look up to, and those we struggle to like as well as for those we love and pray for.
Did you know that Deuteronomy 21:23 says,
“you must not leave his body on the tree overnight. Be sure to bury him that same day, because anyone who is hung on a tree is under God's curse. You must not desecrate the land the LORD your God is giving you as an inheritance.”
The Jewish authorities had already decided that Jesus must die. They had the option of stoning him to death as a sanction within their own legal system, but they wanted Jesus crucified, and I think it was because he would then be seen to be under God’s curse, and the authorities thought this would destroy his mission.
So, back to our story. In front of Pilate stands a vulnerable human being, already condemned by his own people, being offered to the occupying power for crucifixion. This man, who at his birth was brought gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh, has no visible power. The subsequent mockery of the passion, dressing him in a purple robe, the crown of thorns, title ‘King of the Jews’ above him on the cross all seem to emphasise his powerlessness and his vulnerability.
Or to put it another way, in front of Pilate stands the king of all things, of all time, with all the glory and power inside and beyond this world, and he can’t see it. The Jewish authorities have brought this king to Pilate, but they don’t understand him either.
So the scene is set for the passion, the death and the resurrection of Jesus, and for the true kingship of heaven to be revealed.
This is a kingdom that covers all time and space; in which our membership is voluntary, in which the rich do not exploit the poor for their own pleasure and convenience. It is not about what we get but about what we offer to others; Christ the King gave everything for us, and our response is a depth of love that prompts us to give in return. Our desires are refocused from our own self-interest, to the interests of God’s kingdom.
When we answer those questions in our baptism and confirmation service, “Do you turn to Christ?” and “Do you submit to Christ as Lord?” we are putting ourselves under divine authority, recognising that the only power that does not corrupt is the power of God’s love. God’s kingdom is based on love, so when we answer, Do you come to Christ, the way, the truth and the life?” with “I come to Christ”, we are coming to a kingdom of love and acceptance.
As we have received, so we offer – welcome, value, dignity for all. And we find the future members of God’s kingdom outside the walls of this church, in our communities and workplaces, in our shopping centres, prisons and hospitals; in our schools and sleeping on our streets. Revelation 1 tells us that every eye will see him, so none are excluded. None. At some stage “every eye will see him”.
Revelation is apocalyptic literature, the words paint pictures to help our understanding of the nature of God, but I don’t think they are intended to be literal descriptions of the wallpaper in heaven. I think we are expected to read the message that flows through the words, which tells us that the kingship of heaven is not a myth or a fancy story to make people feel better. In some way that I don’t fully understand it is telling us about the reality of our salvation; that we can believe without doubt the claim that, "I am the Alpha and the Omega," … "who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.”
In our worship today, our prayers, our liturgy, our Bible reading and our singing, we celebrate this kingdom; the kingdom of Christ here and now and to come. When we pray in the Lord’s prayer, “Your kingdom come”, this is what we are asking for – the eternal reign of Christ in our hearts and lives, a reign that changes our way of looking at the world, and makes us want to do what Christ did – to subvert our worldly power for the benefit of others – to help every eye to see.
Our decision has to be, do we worship the transitory powers of this world, or do we enter into the ‘not from this world’ kingdom of Christ?
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Sunday, 1 November 2009
Sermon: 31st October 2009 - John 11:32-44
Last night we were in St Albans and witnessed the Halloween celebrations that were taking place in the White Hart Inn, a 600 year old public house famous for its ghosts, and for being the place where William Hogarth drew Lord Lovat - the last person to be beheaded in Britain - in 1746. It was long enough ago, and far enough away to have become entertainment rather than personal tragedy for those dressed in black and orange with ghoulish make-up, so was a cause for entertainment.
Closer to our own history; the death of Princess Diana touched something in many of us and we grieved; it had significance in our lives. Recently the death of Boys Own pop singer Stephen Gately has triggered strong feelings of grief among people younger than me. This week saw the death of Norman Painting who had played the part of Phil Archer for sixty years. For many of us he was part of our history, and his passing has also been well-marked by the media.
The deaths of people we didn’t know can touch us in ways that can take us by surprise. Psychologists tell us that although our empathy and our sympathy is for others, that empathy is enabled by our own experience and the depths of grief that we each carry. If we have never felt pain how can we imagine pain in another person? Empathy is, in some way, a connection with others that happens as a result of our own wounds – a positive benefit (albeit one that we often don’t see until much later).
In today’s readings we learn something about the way that God connects with us, through the humanity of Jesus. In Isaiah 53:4, a prophetic verse about the coming of Jesus, we have read that, “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.”
We know from verse 5 of the gospel reading that Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. He is moved to tears by the grief of his friends. His connection with them, and with us, meant that Jesus could weep with them, and can still weep with each one of us, and with the entire world.
This story however, isn’t just about grief. It is also about hope. You know the end of the story, so let’s just put that on hold for a minute and look at some other stuff first.
There are two other stories of Jesus encountering dead people, and they build on each other:
In the first story of Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:34-42) Jesus restores a dead girl – newly dead, and he does it in private. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, "My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live." So Jesus went with him.
In the second he finds a funeral procession on the way to bury the widows son at Nain (Luke 7:11-16), and he restores him to life. This is more public, but the death is still quite recent; it is normal in hot countries to bury people the same day. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry."
In both stories we can see God’s heart of compassion reaching out to those who grieved and were troubled.
So now we come back to our story.
Lazarus has been dead for at least four days. The spirit was believed to have left the body after three days, and we know from Martha’s comment about the smell that those present were quite realistic about what they might normally find inside a tomb. Dead is dead, and nature will have its course.
By the way, did you notice that it was Martha who came out to meet Jesus first, and was the first to announce that it still isn’t too late to save Lazarus? She believed in the possibility of a miracle, but she still half-expected a smell. Aren’t we so like her at times? Yet God can work despite our doubts.
And again we can see that Jesus is disturbed by grief (v33)“When Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”
Was it just the death of his friend that disturbed him? Might Jesus have been looking forwards to his own death, only days away? Is John, the master story-teller of this gospel giving us clues about the story to come, laying the foundations so that we can see the similarities but also recognise the differences?
I’d like to propose that this story has some parallels with the story of the crucifixion; that this story looks forwards in time.
Both Martha and Mary say to Jesus that if he had been there Lazarus wouldn’t have died. If Jesus could have saved Lazarus from dying, then he could surely have saved himself. But he chose not to. Jesus’ love, God’s love is unselfish. It always seeks the good of others, and so it took Jesus to the cross.
Just as with Jairus’ daughter, and the son of the widow at Nain, Lazarus is restored to life. In the case of Lazarus, they roll away the stone and Lazarus comes out still wearing his grave clothes. He, like others is restored but not resurrected. He will die again another time. This story has moved us forwards in understanding that not only is God is more powerful even than death, but that God’s love for humanity is more powerful than death. There is more to come.
In Jesus’ story, the stone has been rolled away before anyone gets there, and the grave clothes are left behind. Jesus is resurrected, not restored. And in that resurrection we gain the opportunity to join with Jesus.
In a metaphor of our Christian life, Lazarus is dead, and Jesus calls him. He responds to that call by coming out of the grave and back into life. We too are dead without Jesus, and it is only when we too answer God's call that we too come out into the light and life of faith. All we have to do is hear and respond.
When we answer we come, not to our old life restored but to a new life, something completely different – to a share in the resurrected life of Jesus – not back to ourselves as individuals but to a community of faith that is church through time and geography.
Today is All Saints Day, and it is the day when we celebrate the life of all those who have lived in a way that reflects the light and love of God. That is why the altar frontal and my stole are in gold and white - a visual reminder of that light and love.
When the Romans executed Jesus they were hoping to kill, not just the man, but the trouble he was causing – his mission. By turning that death on its head in the resurrection Jesus ensured that his mission continued and grew.
Many of the people we honour as Saints died continuing the non-violent mission of bringing God’s love into this world, some as martyrs, but all as faithful witnesses.
That is what we seek to be.
In many ways, each person who has died in faith as a saint, and those of us who are trying, however imperfectly, to live as Christians in the world today, are saints-in-progress.
My prayer is that like Jesus at the grave of his friend Lazarus:
1. that we too may be filled with the outward-looking love and compassion of Christ;
2. that we can draw on our own experiences of loss and grief to enable us to look on those who suffer, with that compassion;
3. that we too, like Jesus, will look on those in pain and weep with them;
4. that we too will learn that the ultimate love is focused not on our own needs but on meeting the needs of others, and that we too might shine like saints as we reflect the love of God to others.
Closer to our own history; the death of Princess Diana touched something in many of us and we grieved; it had significance in our lives. Recently the death of Boys Own pop singer Stephen Gately has triggered strong feelings of grief among people younger than me. This week saw the death of Norman Painting who had played the part of Phil Archer for sixty years. For many of us he was part of our history, and his passing has also been well-marked by the media.
The deaths of people we didn’t know can touch us in ways that can take us by surprise. Psychologists tell us that although our empathy and our sympathy is for others, that empathy is enabled by our own experience and the depths of grief that we each carry. If we have never felt pain how can we imagine pain in another person? Empathy is, in some way, a connection with others that happens as a result of our own wounds – a positive benefit (albeit one that we often don’t see until much later).
In today’s readings we learn something about the way that God connects with us, through the humanity of Jesus. In Isaiah 53:4, a prophetic verse about the coming of Jesus, we have read that, “Surely he took up our infirmities and carried our sorrows.”
We know from verse 5 of the gospel reading that Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. He is moved to tears by the grief of his friends. His connection with them, and with us, meant that Jesus could weep with them, and can still weep with each one of us, and with the entire world.
This story however, isn’t just about grief. It is also about hope. You know the end of the story, so let’s just put that on hold for a minute and look at some other stuff first.
There are two other stories of Jesus encountering dead people, and they build on each other:
In the first story of Jairus’ daughter (Mark 5:34-42) Jesus restores a dead girl – newly dead, and he does it in private. Seeing Jesus, he fell at his feet and pleaded earnestly with him, "My little daughter is dying. Please come and put your hands on her so that she will be healed and live." So Jesus went with him.
In the second he finds a funeral procession on the way to bury the widows son at Nain (Luke 7:11-16), and he restores him to life. This is more public, but the death is still quite recent; it is normal in hot countries to bury people the same day. When the Lord saw her, his heart went out to her and he said, "Don't cry."
In both stories we can see God’s heart of compassion reaching out to those who grieved and were troubled.
So now we come back to our story.
Lazarus has been dead for at least four days. The spirit was believed to have left the body after three days, and we know from Martha’s comment about the smell that those present were quite realistic about what they might normally find inside a tomb. Dead is dead, and nature will have its course.
By the way, did you notice that it was Martha who came out to meet Jesus first, and was the first to announce that it still isn’t too late to save Lazarus? She believed in the possibility of a miracle, but she still half-expected a smell. Aren’t we so like her at times? Yet God can work despite our doubts.
And again we can see that Jesus is disturbed by grief (v33)“When Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled.”
Was it just the death of his friend that disturbed him? Might Jesus have been looking forwards to his own death, only days away? Is John, the master story-teller of this gospel giving us clues about the story to come, laying the foundations so that we can see the similarities but also recognise the differences?
I’d like to propose that this story has some parallels with the story of the crucifixion; that this story looks forwards in time.
Both Martha and Mary say to Jesus that if he had been there Lazarus wouldn’t have died. If Jesus could have saved Lazarus from dying, then he could surely have saved himself. But he chose not to. Jesus’ love, God’s love is unselfish. It always seeks the good of others, and so it took Jesus to the cross.
Just as with Jairus’ daughter, and the son of the widow at Nain, Lazarus is restored to life. In the case of Lazarus, they roll away the stone and Lazarus comes out still wearing his grave clothes. He, like others is restored but not resurrected. He will die again another time. This story has moved us forwards in understanding that not only is God is more powerful even than death, but that God’s love for humanity is more powerful than death. There is more to come.
In Jesus’ story, the stone has been rolled away before anyone gets there, and the grave clothes are left behind. Jesus is resurrected, not restored. And in that resurrection we gain the opportunity to join with Jesus.
In a metaphor of our Christian life, Lazarus is dead, and Jesus calls him. He responds to that call by coming out of the grave and back into life. We too are dead without Jesus, and it is only when we too answer God's call that we too come out into the light and life of faith. All we have to do is hear and respond.
When we answer we come, not to our old life restored but to a new life, something completely different – to a share in the resurrected life of Jesus – not back to ourselves as individuals but to a community of faith that is church through time and geography.
Today is All Saints Day, and it is the day when we celebrate the life of all those who have lived in a way that reflects the light and love of God. That is why the altar frontal and my stole are in gold and white - a visual reminder of that light and love.
When the Romans executed Jesus they were hoping to kill, not just the man, but the trouble he was causing – his mission. By turning that death on its head in the resurrection Jesus ensured that his mission continued and grew.
Many of the people we honour as Saints died continuing the non-violent mission of bringing God’s love into this world, some as martyrs, but all as faithful witnesses.
That is what we seek to be.
In many ways, each person who has died in faith as a saint, and those of us who are trying, however imperfectly, to live as Christians in the world today, are saints-in-progress.
My prayer is that like Jesus at the grave of his friend Lazarus:
1. that we too may be filled with the outward-looking love and compassion of Christ;
2. that we can draw on our own experiences of loss and grief to enable us to look on those who suffer, with that compassion;
3. that we too, like Jesus, will look on those in pain and weep with them;
4. that we too will learn that the ultimate love is focused not on our own needs but on meeting the needs of others, and that we too might shine like saints as we reflect the love of God to others.
Sunday, 25 October 2009
Sermon: 25th October 2009 - Mark 10:46-52
There is a sermon that I haven't preached. In fact I haven't written it down. It is about Plato and Socrates and Timaeus and tektons approaching death, and was triggered by a sceptical commmentary on Mark's gospel. However, to write it would only be an academic exercise and the true value of any sermon is that itch transmitted to others; the challenge to think differently, or to allow God's grace to reassure and to comfort, or to take our understanding and worship to new places.
Today I spoke most of what is written here, but the writing was unomfortable. I felt called to say it, but concerned about the reaction of the listeners. When discussing it with my partner I kept getting the advice, "Don't talk about that. Talk about Bartimaeus." Not much reassurance there. To re-balance the advice, the response was, "Don't know what you were worried about - that was fine." I smiled.
So I wrote and I spoke, and people were gracious. It provoked discussion, as I thought it might, but people were more positively inclined than I expected. See what you think?
(By the way, few sermons have been posted recently; that is simply a feature of a busy life. I won't promise that will change any time soon.)
My grandfather was deaf. He wore a hearing aid, and when he didn’t want to hear what was being said he would turn it off, lean back in his chair and close his eyes. “There’s none so deaf as those who don’t want to hear” was a phrase I heard many times in my childhood. And I would add, “nor so blind as those who do not want to see.” My grandfather wasn’t the only person that this could be said of. I think it's a family trait; it applies to all the members of my family - my Chritian family that is.
So today, the last Sunday before we start the countdown to Advent, we are coming towards the end of the church year and our series on Mark’s gospel. The big question that permeates Mark’s gospel is ‘Who is this man?’ And we, the reader, know who this is because Mark has told us in the first lines of the gospel, “The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God’. So, to paraphrase Rolf Harris, “Can you see who it is yet?”
The disciples couldn’t see who Jesus was at first, although they knew he was special enough to leave their previous lives and follow him. They didn’t have the advantage of the first sentence of the gospel so they had to work it out as they went along. But we’re now quite a long way along the story. The transfiguration has revealed who Jesus is, and they are able to see, albeit not quite as clearly as they will later on. As a way of illustrating this we have read the healing of the blind man in two stages – remember he could see men walking ‘like trees’ first, then he could see clearly. That’s where we are in the journey.
Jesus has been touring the Judean desert and the Jordan, teaching and healing, and he is now returning, with a multitude of people, from Jericho, uphill on his final journey to Passover in Jerusalem – via the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday, about 8 hours walk away. The question remains, “Who is this man?” It’s decision time. Some people are afraid because they hear Jesus talk of being killed. Some, like James and John, want a share in the glory – few people see clearly that this man is their hope.
And then the crowd passes a blind beggar and we discover again that it is the people with less invested in society; those for whom the world isn’t a place of bounty and reward, who are best able to deal with that dissonance – that difference between the Messiah they expect, and the man walking uphill on a hot day. I wonder if it’s easier to challenge when there’s less to lose from the status quo? Is that, perhaps, a challenge for us today?
So what is special about this beggar on the side of the road?
He recognises who Jesus is and he calls him by a name that shows his insight. He calls him “Son of David”. He also addresses Jesus as “Rabboni”. The only other place we hear that name is when Mary Magdalen meets the risen Jesus in the garden. This blind man can see who Jesus is, he believes Jesus can help him, and he’s ready to accept that grace. When Jesus calls him, he throws his cloak aside. He left what he had to come to meet Jesus, just as the disciples left their nets when they were called – so unlike the rich man in the previous story, who went away rich, but sad.
When Jesus asks the beggar the same question that he asked the rich man, ‘What do you want?’ the man answers, “I want to see”. I think he can already see better than most.
He makes his request and he’s healed; and then we see that he really has understood. He doesn’t then go back to his life as a beggar, or go on a different journey. He throws in his lot with Jesus and follows him along the road – the road that leads to the cross and the resurrection.
This fulfils the prophecies in
This is about personal salvation, through faith, but not just about an individual decision. Bartimaeus joined ‘the way’ – the group of people that were followers of Jesus. Just as in marriage, so it is in church, the decision and the commitment is yours and yours alone, but you can’t do it on your own. Christianity is a corporate religion – Christ didn’t die for himself – he died for us – as individuals and as a group, even for those whose views we might find distasteful.
We commit, when we are baptised and confirmed, to membership of the group that is Church – this church, the Church of England – with its diversity of people and its inheritance of faith seeking understanding. And within the Church of England we are also part of the mainstream churches through history, with direct links to those Apostles on the Jericho Road, through the orders of ministry from those earliest days.
We share agreements with the Orthodox and Catholic Churches of the East and West, we recognise each other’s Baptism. Despite this week’s controversy over the Roman Catholic Church offering a home for disaffected Anglicans we do try to stand together. We share the same Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the 10 Commandments, many of the same books of the Bible – and that, despite centuries of cultural difference and interpretation.
We are in full communion with the Methodists and United Reform Churches, and through the Anglican Communion we share our faith with millions of Christians throughout the world. We will say later, “This is our faith.” All the churches I’ve mentioned share that faith.
We’re going to use Eucharistic Prayer B today – of the 8 Eucharistic prayers available to us, this one is based on the oldest known communion liturgy from the second century. This is the prayer of the church that was founded by the Apostles, which would have included people like the grandchildren of Bartimaeus, those who said almost the same words in another language – it is their gift to us. We are using this today as a way of reminding us that we are members of the church of Christ throughout the ages.
We also share much with members of many dissenting churches. I find it possible to worship as a guest in a Baptist Church even though I’m aware of some important differences in doctrine (we don’t yet recognise each other’s baptism) because I know that we are worshipping the trinity of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. There is more to unite us than to divide us, and for millions of people, not just those alive today, but those who have lived before us, we are brothers and sisters in Christ.
So when we come onto our Eucharistic Prayer, and we finally reach the sentence, “We break this bread to share in one body”, our reply is “Though we are many, we are one body because we all share in the one bread” that ‘one body’ does not mean any one of us as a blind individual.
This is a corporate act of committed people, joined in faith in the resurrected Jesus, and we welcome those who are visitors from other church backgrounds as well as those who are taking communion prior to confirmation, to join us as that one body, one family today.
When we finally answer that question, “Can you see who it is yet?” and answer 'Yes', our world changes, and we see, not in monochrome but glorious colour.
As we approach communion as the community that is church, maybe we could all still our thoughts and our hearts as we share the words prayed by so many Christians through so many centuries that tell the story and give thanks for our salvation through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen
Today I spoke most of what is written here, but the writing was unomfortable. I felt called to say it, but concerned about the reaction of the listeners. When discussing it with my partner I kept getting the advice, "Don't talk about that. Talk about Bartimaeus." Not much reassurance there. To re-balance the advice, the response was, "Don't know what you were worried about - that was fine." I smiled.
So I wrote and I spoke, and people were gracious. It provoked discussion, as I thought it might, but people were more positively inclined than I expected. See what you think?
(By the way, few sermons have been posted recently; that is simply a feature of a busy life. I won't promise that will change any time soon.)
My grandfather was deaf. He wore a hearing aid, and when he didn’t want to hear what was being said he would turn it off, lean back in his chair and close his eyes. “There’s none so deaf as those who don’t want to hear” was a phrase I heard many times in my childhood. And I would add, “nor so blind as those who do not want to see.” My grandfather wasn’t the only person that this could be said of. I think it's a family trait; it applies to all the members of my family - my Chritian family that is.
So today, the last Sunday before we start the countdown to Advent, we are coming towards the end of the church year and our series on Mark’s gospel. The big question that permeates Mark’s gospel is ‘Who is this man?’ And we, the reader, know who this is because Mark has told us in the first lines of the gospel, “The beginning of the gospel about Jesus Christ, the Son of God’. So, to paraphrase Rolf Harris, “Can you see who it is yet?”
The disciples couldn’t see who Jesus was at first, although they knew he was special enough to leave their previous lives and follow him. They didn’t have the advantage of the first sentence of the gospel so they had to work it out as they went along. But we’re now quite a long way along the story. The transfiguration has revealed who Jesus is, and they are able to see, albeit not quite as clearly as they will later on. As a way of illustrating this we have read the healing of the blind man in two stages – remember he could see men walking ‘like trees’ first, then he could see clearly. That’s where we are in the journey.
Jesus has been touring the Judean desert and the Jordan, teaching and healing, and he is now returning, with a multitude of people, from Jericho, uphill on his final journey to Passover in Jerusalem – via the Mount of Olives on Palm Sunday, about 8 hours walk away. The question remains, “Who is this man?” It’s decision time. Some people are afraid because they hear Jesus talk of being killed. Some, like James and John, want a share in the glory – few people see clearly that this man is their hope.
And then the crowd passes a blind beggar and we discover again that it is the people with less invested in society; those for whom the world isn’t a place of bounty and reward, who are best able to deal with that dissonance – that difference between the Messiah they expect, and the man walking uphill on a hot day. I wonder if it’s easier to challenge when there’s less to lose from the status quo? Is that, perhaps, a challenge for us today?
So what is special about this beggar on the side of the road?
He recognises who Jesus is and he calls him by a name that shows his insight. He calls him “Son of David”. He also addresses Jesus as “Rabboni”. The only other place we hear that name is when Mary Magdalen meets the risen Jesus in the garden. This blind man can see who Jesus is, he believes Jesus can help him, and he’s ready to accept that grace. When Jesus calls him, he throws his cloak aside. He left what he had to come to meet Jesus, just as the disciples left their nets when they were called – so unlike the rich man in the previous story, who went away rich, but sad.
When Jesus asks the beggar the same question that he asked the rich man, ‘What do you want?’ the man answers, “I want to see”. I think he can already see better than most.
He makes his request and he’s healed; and then we see that he really has understood. He doesn’t then go back to his life as a beggar, or go on a different journey. He throws in his lot with Jesus and follows him along the road – the road that leads to the cross and the resurrection.
This fulfils the prophecies in
Isaiah 29:18 “In that day the deaf will hear the words of the scroll, and out of
gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see.”
Isaiah 35:5-6 “Then will the eyes of the blind be opened and the ears of the
deaf unstopped. 6 Then will the lame leap like a deer, and the mute tongue
shout for joy. Water will gush forth in the wilderness and streams in the
desert.”
Isaiah 61:1 “The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me, because the LORD
has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the
broken-hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness
for the prisoners.”
So we have a blind man healed, following Jesus. What has it got to do with us?
Well, there are two points for us all to think about today, because like Bartimaeus, once we recognise Jesus as divine, we have to start to make making choices. When we accept the forgiveness, compassion, love and mercy that sets us free, and make our relationship with Jesus a priority, the priority in our lives, we then set out, like Bartimaeus, on a journey with Jesus that will last for the rest of our lives.
Part of that is about learning about God’s will for this world. It can be very easy to see our faith as a kind of bubble that is all about us – but you know that's not true.
Because when we start to read God’s word in Scripture, we find that the sentences that we can so easily gloss over, actually speak of major themes in God’s will. The one passage of Scripture
that we hear of Jesus reading is that last one from Isaiah – let’s look at it
again from Luke 4:18. “The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed
me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for
the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the
oppressed.”
Themes of justice, a preferential option for the poor, unity, release from oppression, care for the vulnerable, care for creation run through the Bible, and we are challenged to notice, and to act.
We saw the video clip earlier, about Advent Conspiracy, that ministry to provide clean drinking water to villages around the world, which will help save thousands of lives, and I’m challenged by that. As a staff team we are also thinking about what we could do in place of our Secret Santa this year – we’ll let you know what we decide J. I hope it challenges you too, and no, I’m not going to tell you what you should do – other than remind you of the four themes, and suggest that you commit the idea to prayer:
- Worship Fully
- Spend Less
- Give More
- Love All
This is about personal salvation, through faith, but not just about an individual decision. Bartimaeus joined ‘the way’ – the group of people that were followers of Jesus. Just as in marriage, so it is in church, the decision and the commitment is yours and yours alone, but you can’t do it on your own. Christianity is a corporate religion – Christ didn’t die for himself – he died for us – as individuals and as a group, even for those whose views we might find distasteful.
We commit, when we are baptised and confirmed, to membership of the group that is Church – this church, the Church of England – with its diversity of people and its inheritance of faith seeking understanding. And within the Church of England we are also part of the mainstream churches through history, with direct links to those Apostles on the Jericho Road, through the orders of ministry from those earliest days.
We share agreements with the Orthodox and Catholic Churches of the East and West, we recognise each other’s Baptism. Despite this week’s controversy over the Roman Catholic Church offering a home for disaffected Anglicans we do try to stand together. We share the same Creed, the Lord’s Prayer, the 10 Commandments, many of the same books of the Bible – and that, despite centuries of cultural difference and interpretation.
We are in full communion with the Methodists and United Reform Churches, and through the Anglican Communion we share our faith with millions of Christians throughout the world. We will say later, “This is our faith.” All the churches I’ve mentioned share that faith.
We’re going to use Eucharistic Prayer B today – of the 8 Eucharistic prayers available to us, this one is based on the oldest known communion liturgy from the second century. This is the prayer of the church that was founded by the Apostles, which would have included people like the grandchildren of Bartimaeus, those who said almost the same words in another language – it is their gift to us. We are using this today as a way of reminding us that we are members of the church of Christ throughout the ages.
We also share much with members of many dissenting churches. I find it possible to worship as a guest in a Baptist Church even though I’m aware of some important differences in doctrine (we don’t yet recognise each other’s baptism) because I know that we are worshipping the trinity of God the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. There is more to unite us than to divide us, and for millions of people, not just those alive today, but those who have lived before us, we are brothers and sisters in Christ.
So when we come onto our Eucharistic Prayer, and we finally reach the sentence, “We break this bread to share in one body”, our reply is “Though we are many, we are one body because we all share in the one bread” that ‘one body’ does not mean any one of us as a blind individual.
This is a corporate act of committed people, joined in faith in the resurrected Jesus, and we welcome those who are visitors from other church backgrounds as well as those who are taking communion prior to confirmation, to join us as that one body, one family today.
When we finally answer that question, “Can you see who it is yet?” and answer 'Yes', our world changes, and we see, not in monochrome but glorious colour.
As we approach communion as the community that is church, maybe we could all still our thoughts and our hearts as we share the words prayed by so many Christians through so many centuries that tell the story and give thanks for our salvation through Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Sermon: 6th September 2009 - Mark 7:24-37
Hearing Dogs for the Deaf - that is the charity that the children in the church chose to support and raise funds for between now and Christmas, as a result of their own study of this passage. It was amusing and moving when they reported back at the end of the service, as this decision manages to combine both stories in a creative and useful way to benefit others. Oh what we learn from children!
Here is my less adequate take on the text.
Last week we read the first part of Chapter 7 of Mark’s gospel, which was ostensibly about hand-washing, and this week we follow on from that with a story of Jesus insulting a Gentile woman and then healing two Gentiles.
Last week I talked about this part of Mark’s gospel showing us the progression of Jesus’ mission, through unclean hands to unclean people i.e. Gentiles, and I suggested that Jesus was saying that even Gentiles are acceptable to God; that although the passage seemed to be an argument about man-made tradition and God’s law, it was actually about more than hand-washing – it was about the overflowing love that includes us in God’s salvation plan – love in action.
Today I want to talk a bit more about that, and to show that this passage today is also about abundance.
Before I move on to look at the specifics of this story, I’d like to take a helicopter view of this part of Mark’s gospel, and you might find it easier to follow if you have your bible open.
I see this story as part of a set that starts at Mark 6:34, where Jesus feeds five thousand. The story implies that these are Jewish people, and the twelve baskets left over is enough, symbolically, for the twelve tribes of Israel to have one basket each. The generosity is overflowing and there is plenty to go around. While we may feel uncomfortable with that, I think the message here is clearly that Jesus has come to feed the Jews.
In the next instalment, in Chapter 7, the boundaries between clean and unclean, Jew and Gentile start to dissolve. The overflowing generosity, grace and love that God has for humanity is there to feed, firstly the Jews, but is now starting to include Gentiles, and purity becomes something that we reflect because our hearts are engaged, rather than simply because we are told what to do. This is the moment when our story, our Gentile story, is grafted into the history of the Jews to become the history of humanity.
Moving swiftly on we see today’s story of healing two Gentiles, and then to come - another story of feeding – this time of four thousand, many of who would have been Gentiles, with seven baskets of food left over. The boundaries of love are overflowing.
Coming back down to earth, today’s story shows the beginning of God’s direct mission to the Gentiles.
Jesus had moved into Gentile territory – north to Tyre – 40 miles north-west of Capernaum. (Sidon is another 26 miles north-east of Tyre). Jesus was a long way from Galilee, well into Gentile territory. Despite his attempts to travel quietly, his fame had spread and a Greek woman heard of his healing ministry and came looking for him.
Tyre was wealthy. She was probably better educated and from a higher social class than Jesus so for her to seek him out would have been socially unacceptable to her. Likewise, as a Jew, Jesus would not have been expected to speak to her because she was Gentile, a woman, and she had a demon-possessed daughter – contact with any one of those three would have made him ritually unclean – put all three together and you can see that Mark is making a powerful point about breaking down barriers.
Yet, her need was great. Her love was great. Her daughter was ill, and she loved her daughter and wanted her to be well. She was helpless to change the situation in her own strength, and she was willing to do whatever was necessary to make her daughter well. She had heard of Jesus and she wanted him to heal her daughter. So she came to visit Jesus and she fell at his feet. She begged him to heal her daughter. As in other healing stories, Jesus didn’t turn her away, but he did point out that he needed to feed the children first- in other words, his mission was firstly to the Jews, not to her.
I think Jesus was quite rude. Some preachers and commentators have tried to dilute what Jesus said by saying he had a twinkle in his eye, or that the word he used actually meant pet dogs rather than wild dogs (which it did). Yet we know that ‘dog’ remains an insult in Middle Eastern countries to this day, and we have similar terms of abuse in our own society. I struggle to see how this was anything less than an insult, and I think it is important to the story that we recognise this.
Because this woman was not one of the Pharisees and teachers of the law that we read about last week, and she was not going to be diverted by outward appearances, even by Jesus’ language. She didn’t hear the words at face value and go away insulted. This wasn’t about her pride, her ego, her view of herself – if it were, would she have been kneeling at the feet of a Jewish artisan preacher?
The woman didn’t want words; she wanted the active love that would express itself in healing for the person she loved. She knew what she wanted and she hoped and trusted that Jesus could supply it.
She didn’t argue about whether or not it was fair for God to choose to favour the Jews. We know from Genesis 18:18 that Abraham was promised that through him all the nations would be blessed. Her reply assumed that generosity, and she used words in response, but turning the argument to her favour.
Like the Samaritan woman by the well in another story, she had a quick mind and was able to reply with an intelligent and reasoned argument – “- isn’t there enough for everyone? Even the left-over’s would be enough?” And of course, the answer was yes. God’s overflowing abundant love was sufficient – it wasn’t rationed, and in trust she was able to go home and find that her daughter had been healed. Her loving heart and the loving heart of God were in tune.
The second story tells of a deaf man being healed, again in Gentile territory, this itme further south in the Decapolis (the ten cities) and draws our attention to another theme that runs through Mark – that of hearing.
In Mark 4:9, Jesus said, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." The disciples struggled to really hear, to understand what was happening. And here we have a story of a deaf man being healed. Jesus healed his hearing, and enabling him to speak. Here we have a story of God teaching the Gentiles to hear, through the healing work of Jesus. That is what God does for all of us when we are prepared to listen. Do we then go on to speak clearly – to share what we have heard?
The Syrophoenician woman heard that Jesus was nearby and responded quickly – in contrast to those at the centre of Judaism, she was able to listen and to hear, and then to act on what she had heard.There are echoes of the reading today in our prayer of humble access, when we say, “we are not worthy even to eat the crumbs from under your table”. This is a simple statement of fact. In our own right we are not worthy; nothing we have gained is because we are intrinsically good enough, but because of the overflowing love that God has for us, the salvation that Jesus achieved for us, the resurrection that we are a part of through our faith.
It is our faith that ensures we, Gentiles, have a place at the table; it is our faith that has made us a part of the family. And it is our faith that encourages us to go and tell other people about this wonderful love, and offer them the chance to sit at the table and eat, because God’s love is not limited to us, any more than it was limited to the Jews; it is abundant and overflowing, and there is plenty to go round. All we have to do is have faith, then come and eat.
Here is my less adequate take on the text.
Last week we read the first part of Chapter 7 of Mark’s gospel, which was ostensibly about hand-washing, and this week we follow on from that with a story of Jesus insulting a Gentile woman and then healing two Gentiles.
Last week I talked about this part of Mark’s gospel showing us the progression of Jesus’ mission, through unclean hands to unclean people i.e. Gentiles, and I suggested that Jesus was saying that even Gentiles are acceptable to God; that although the passage seemed to be an argument about man-made tradition and God’s law, it was actually about more than hand-washing – it was about the overflowing love that includes us in God’s salvation plan – love in action.
Today I want to talk a bit more about that, and to show that this passage today is also about abundance.
Before I move on to look at the specifics of this story, I’d like to take a helicopter view of this part of Mark’s gospel, and you might find it easier to follow if you have your bible open.
I see this story as part of a set that starts at Mark 6:34, where Jesus feeds five thousand. The story implies that these are Jewish people, and the twelve baskets left over is enough, symbolically, for the twelve tribes of Israel to have one basket each. The generosity is overflowing and there is plenty to go around. While we may feel uncomfortable with that, I think the message here is clearly that Jesus has come to feed the Jews.
In the next instalment, in Chapter 7, the boundaries between clean and unclean, Jew and Gentile start to dissolve. The overflowing generosity, grace and love that God has for humanity is there to feed, firstly the Jews, but is now starting to include Gentiles, and purity becomes something that we reflect because our hearts are engaged, rather than simply because we are told what to do. This is the moment when our story, our Gentile story, is grafted into the history of the Jews to become the history of humanity.
Moving swiftly on we see today’s story of healing two Gentiles, and then to come - another story of feeding – this time of four thousand, many of who would have been Gentiles, with seven baskets of food left over. The boundaries of love are overflowing.
Coming back down to earth, today’s story shows the beginning of God’s direct mission to the Gentiles.
Jesus had moved into Gentile territory – north to Tyre – 40 miles north-west of Capernaum. (Sidon is another 26 miles north-east of Tyre). Jesus was a long way from Galilee, well into Gentile territory. Despite his attempts to travel quietly, his fame had spread and a Greek woman heard of his healing ministry and came looking for him.
Tyre was wealthy. She was probably better educated and from a higher social class than Jesus so for her to seek him out would have been socially unacceptable to her. Likewise, as a Jew, Jesus would not have been expected to speak to her because she was Gentile, a woman, and she had a demon-possessed daughter – contact with any one of those three would have made him ritually unclean – put all three together and you can see that Mark is making a powerful point about breaking down barriers.
Yet, her need was great. Her love was great. Her daughter was ill, and she loved her daughter and wanted her to be well. She was helpless to change the situation in her own strength, and she was willing to do whatever was necessary to make her daughter well. She had heard of Jesus and she wanted him to heal her daughter. So she came to visit Jesus and she fell at his feet. She begged him to heal her daughter. As in other healing stories, Jesus didn’t turn her away, but he did point out that he needed to feed the children first- in other words, his mission was firstly to the Jews, not to her.
I think Jesus was quite rude. Some preachers and commentators have tried to dilute what Jesus said by saying he had a twinkle in his eye, or that the word he used actually meant pet dogs rather than wild dogs (which it did). Yet we know that ‘dog’ remains an insult in Middle Eastern countries to this day, and we have similar terms of abuse in our own society. I struggle to see how this was anything less than an insult, and I think it is important to the story that we recognise this.
Because this woman was not one of the Pharisees and teachers of the law that we read about last week, and she was not going to be diverted by outward appearances, even by Jesus’ language. She didn’t hear the words at face value and go away insulted. This wasn’t about her pride, her ego, her view of herself – if it were, would she have been kneeling at the feet of a Jewish artisan preacher?
The woman didn’t want words; she wanted the active love that would express itself in healing for the person she loved. She knew what she wanted and she hoped and trusted that Jesus could supply it.
She didn’t argue about whether or not it was fair for God to choose to favour the Jews. We know from Genesis 18:18 that Abraham was promised that through him all the nations would be blessed. Her reply assumed that generosity, and she used words in response, but turning the argument to her favour.
Like the Samaritan woman by the well in another story, she had a quick mind and was able to reply with an intelligent and reasoned argument – “- isn’t there enough for everyone? Even the left-over’s would be enough?” And of course, the answer was yes. God’s overflowing abundant love was sufficient – it wasn’t rationed, and in trust she was able to go home and find that her daughter had been healed. Her loving heart and the loving heart of God were in tune.
The second story tells of a deaf man being healed, again in Gentile territory, this itme further south in the Decapolis (the ten cities) and draws our attention to another theme that runs through Mark – that of hearing.
In Mark 4:9, Jesus said, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear." The disciples struggled to really hear, to understand what was happening. And here we have a story of a deaf man being healed. Jesus healed his hearing, and enabling him to speak. Here we have a story of God teaching the Gentiles to hear, through the healing work of Jesus. That is what God does for all of us when we are prepared to listen. Do we then go on to speak clearly – to share what we have heard?
The Syrophoenician woman heard that Jesus was nearby and responded quickly – in contrast to those at the centre of Judaism, she was able to listen and to hear, and then to act on what she had heard.There are echoes of the reading today in our prayer of humble access, when we say, “we are not worthy even to eat the crumbs from under your table”. This is a simple statement of fact. In our own right we are not worthy; nothing we have gained is because we are intrinsically good enough, but because of the overflowing love that God has for us, the salvation that Jesus achieved for us, the resurrection that we are a part of through our faith.
It is our faith that ensures we, Gentiles, have a place at the table; it is our faith that has made us a part of the family. And it is our faith that encourages us to go and tell other people about this wonderful love, and offer them the chance to sit at the table and eat, because God’s love is not limited to us, any more than it was limited to the Jews; it is abundant and overflowing, and there is plenty to go round. All we have to do is have faith, then come and eat.
Sermon: 30th August - Mark 7:1-8,14-15,21-23
"The law and the heart - are they really opposites?"
We are celebrating a communion service today, so you will be relieved to know that I have washed my hands, and will apply an alcohol gel rub before touching the bread.
I am doing this for two reasons; one is that I have been recommended to behave like this by the Bishop of St Albans, and I have taken a canonical oath to obey all lawful commands that he gives me. This isn’t actually a command as such, but the principle will do for the purposes of this sermon. The other reason is that I don’t want to pass on any germs to you, and you might be interested to know that I used alcohol gel before the recommendation was made.
So today’s reading, which appears to be about hand-washing, is quite apt, isn’t it? Or is it?
On the surface this seems to be a debate about tradition versus the law of God, and which one is being treated as most important by the Pharisees and teachers of the law. It seems to be about hand-washing.
However, below the surface is a broader debate about the place of Gentiles in the new order that our Lord is inaugurating. One church, one faith, one Lord.
I think this is a question about why Gentiles are eating with the Jews, and what it means for Jews and for the followers of Jesus. The passage clearly states that all Jews, not just Pharisees, washed their hands. Yet there are people present who have not washed. This suggests that there are Gentiles present and it is this ritual uncleanness created by association with the ‘unclean’ that is being challenged – Jesus is eating with Gentiles.
Why does that matter? We know from other gospel accounts that Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners so we are not surprised. But to the teachers (and upholder remember) of the law, those who are fulfilling the commands in Deuteronomy 4 to teach the laws and decrees to their children, this was cause for concern.
It must have seemed as if Jesus was breaking the laws that God had given. We know from Matthew 5:17 that Jesus was sent, not to abolish the law, but to fulfil it, but they didn’t know that.
So here we find Jesus, expanding his ministry from the Jews alone to include Gentiles – something that the Jewish leaders would only have expected at the last times when all the nations were expected to flock to Jerusalem. The clues are there, but they do not see who they are talking to.
We look back with 20/20 hindsight so must avoid the temptation to look down on those teachers and preachers who were so tied up with their own task that they didn’t recognise that Jesus had a greater task; that he was the very person they had been praying for.
Mark’s gospel is written in the context of an expanding church, one in which Gentiles were welcomed, as we are now. The fact that Mark has included a comment to explain the Jewish custom of washing suggests that the original audience for this gospel included people who were not familiar with Jewish customs, i.e. Gentile – people like you and me in fact, although I hope we do wash our hands!
I think Mark was trying to say to his Gentile readers – “see, Jesus intended you to be part of his plan, part of his kingdom. All that anyone has to do is repent and believe in Jesus as the Son of God.” Jesus fulfilled the law, and we are the beneficiaries of that. We can be and are a part of it. One church, one faith, one Lord.
But the time that is being written about this hasn’t yet happened. So we have some 20/20 hindsight being applied to this story. That inclusion now of Gentiles is, I think, what Jesus is talking about when he appears to be challenging the purity laws of Leviticus 11 (which is about what kind of living creatures Jews may eat). In this part of the story I think Jesus is using a picture to make a point. He says “Nothing outside a man can make him unclean by going into him… it is what comes out of a man that makes him unclean” – in other words, returning to a point we make frequently, action not feeling is what matters.
We know we are saved by faith, but the epistle from James tells us that faith without deeds is dead. Our behaviour, our actions tell who we are.
As I read this I was reminded forcefully of Mark 12:30-31 “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbour as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.", and of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where he speaks of the need for love.
Paul says, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal… Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
Compare that list to the list of unclean outpourings that Jesus lists, every one of which is some kind of perversion of love, “evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly”. Most of those are actions too, and they demonstrate how far we fall short of selfless love of God and our neighbour.
I think that Jesus is telling us once again that love, selfless love as he modelled it, is a verb not an intention or a feeling; it is the spirit of love living in us, outworking in our lives that identifies us with God, it is the outpouring of that love in caring action for others that shows us to be one with him in the kingdom.
So what does this have to do with hand-washing?
The Jews had a tradition of washing, which was sensible hygiene practise for people who lived in a hot country where water was scarce, in the days before refrigerators and antibiotics. Jesus isn’t criticising them for holding on to their traditions; he effectively says, as Morna Hooker puts it, “you are so concerned with keeping the letter of the law that you have forgotten the other side of it, the spirit of the law.” I believe the first flows from the second, that the action flows from the change in heart.
For the ignorant, uneducated, or just plain ‘ornery among us the letter of the law is all we have, and whether we agree with individual laws or not, blind obedience is better for our society in many cases than blind disobedience. We too had better wash our hands and wear aprons because the kitchen regulations say we must.
Most dangerous though is the person who may not bother to wash their hands unless someone else is watching – who rejects the spirit and the letter of the law - after all it is simply legalistic nonsense, the nanny state in action…
For those of us who love and care for our fellow humans, and who want to serve them in our shared newness of life through Christ, we want to wash our hands because, understanding the way that disease is spread, we don’t want to make another person ill. One is done from ignorance, the other from a heart of love.
As Gentile inheritors of Christ’s love for all humanity, let us all remember that the heart and the law of God work together to show us how to live in loving, active relationship with each other as one church, one faith, one Lord.
We are celebrating a communion service today, so you will be relieved to know that I have washed my hands, and will apply an alcohol gel rub before touching the bread.
I am doing this for two reasons; one is that I have been recommended to behave like this by the Bishop of St Albans, and I have taken a canonical oath to obey all lawful commands that he gives me. This isn’t actually a command as such, but the principle will do for the purposes of this sermon. The other reason is that I don’t want to pass on any germs to you, and you might be interested to know that I used alcohol gel before the recommendation was made.
So today’s reading, which appears to be about hand-washing, is quite apt, isn’t it? Or is it?
On the surface this seems to be a debate about tradition versus the law of God, and which one is being treated as most important by the Pharisees and teachers of the law. It seems to be about hand-washing.
However, below the surface is a broader debate about the place of Gentiles in the new order that our Lord is inaugurating. One church, one faith, one Lord.
I think this is a question about why Gentiles are eating with the Jews, and what it means for Jews and for the followers of Jesus. The passage clearly states that all Jews, not just Pharisees, washed their hands. Yet there are people present who have not washed. This suggests that there are Gentiles present and it is this ritual uncleanness created by association with the ‘unclean’ that is being challenged – Jesus is eating with Gentiles.
Why does that matter? We know from other gospel accounts that Jesus ate with tax collectors and sinners so we are not surprised. But to the teachers (and upholder remember) of the law, those who are fulfilling the commands in Deuteronomy 4 to teach the laws and decrees to their children, this was cause for concern.
It must have seemed as if Jesus was breaking the laws that God had given. We know from Matthew 5:17 that Jesus was sent, not to abolish the law, but to fulfil it, but they didn’t know that.
So here we find Jesus, expanding his ministry from the Jews alone to include Gentiles – something that the Jewish leaders would only have expected at the last times when all the nations were expected to flock to Jerusalem. The clues are there, but they do not see who they are talking to.
We look back with 20/20 hindsight so must avoid the temptation to look down on those teachers and preachers who were so tied up with their own task that they didn’t recognise that Jesus had a greater task; that he was the very person they had been praying for.
Mark’s gospel is written in the context of an expanding church, one in which Gentiles were welcomed, as we are now. The fact that Mark has included a comment to explain the Jewish custom of washing suggests that the original audience for this gospel included people who were not familiar with Jewish customs, i.e. Gentile – people like you and me in fact, although I hope we do wash our hands!
I think Mark was trying to say to his Gentile readers – “see, Jesus intended you to be part of his plan, part of his kingdom. All that anyone has to do is repent and believe in Jesus as the Son of God.” Jesus fulfilled the law, and we are the beneficiaries of that. We can be and are a part of it. One church, one faith, one Lord.
But the time that is being written about this hasn’t yet happened. So we have some 20/20 hindsight being applied to this story. That inclusion now of Gentiles is, I think, what Jesus is talking about when he appears to be challenging the purity laws of Leviticus 11 (which is about what kind of living creatures Jews may eat). In this part of the story I think Jesus is using a picture to make a point. He says “Nothing outside a man can make him unclean by going into him… it is what comes out of a man that makes him unclean” – in other words, returning to a point we make frequently, action not feeling is what matters.
We know we are saved by faith, but the epistle from James tells us that faith without deeds is dead. Our behaviour, our actions tell who we are.
As I read this I was reminded forcefully of Mark 12:30-31 “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.' The second is this: 'Love your neighbour as yourself.' There is no commandment greater than these.", and of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians where he speaks of the need for love.
Paul says, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal… Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”
Compare that list to the list of unclean outpourings that Jesus lists, every one of which is some kind of perversion of love, “evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly”. Most of those are actions too, and they demonstrate how far we fall short of selfless love of God and our neighbour.
I think that Jesus is telling us once again that love, selfless love as he modelled it, is a verb not an intention or a feeling; it is the spirit of love living in us, outworking in our lives that identifies us with God, it is the outpouring of that love in caring action for others that shows us to be one with him in the kingdom.
So what does this have to do with hand-washing?
The Jews had a tradition of washing, which was sensible hygiene practise for people who lived in a hot country where water was scarce, in the days before refrigerators and antibiotics. Jesus isn’t criticising them for holding on to their traditions; he effectively says, as Morna Hooker puts it, “you are so concerned with keeping the letter of the law that you have forgotten the other side of it, the spirit of the law.” I believe the first flows from the second, that the action flows from the change in heart.
For the ignorant, uneducated, or just plain ‘ornery among us the letter of the law is all we have, and whether we agree with individual laws or not, blind obedience is better for our society in many cases than blind disobedience. We too had better wash our hands and wear aprons because the kitchen regulations say we must.
Most dangerous though is the person who may not bother to wash their hands unless someone else is watching – who rejects the spirit and the letter of the law - after all it is simply legalistic nonsense, the nanny state in action…
For those of us who love and care for our fellow humans, and who want to serve them in our shared newness of life through Christ, we want to wash our hands because, understanding the way that disease is spread, we don’t want to make another person ill. One is done from ignorance, the other from a heart of love.
As Gentile inheritors of Christ’s love for all humanity, let us all remember that the heart and the law of God work together to show us how to live in loving, active relationship with each other as one church, one faith, one Lord.
Monday, 17 August 2009
Sermon: 16th August 2009 - Baptism
Yesterday I performed my first Baptism at the 'little' church at Bourne End - St John's. I really enjoyed the experience and the service, and remain in a state of wonder that I have been fortunate enough to find myself in this role.
You might wonder why, over a year after being ordained as a deacon, and almost a month after being ordained as a priest, this is my first Baptism (the second is next week at the 'big' church - Sunnyside)
As an evangelical church we don't get lots of requests for baptisms, probably because we ask families to study a 6 week course so that they understand what they are asking for and committing to. If people want to have the ceremony with perhaps, less of an overt commitment for the time being, there are other Anglican churches locally that will help them.
This sermon may sound very familiar. It is. It is based quite closely on the Pastoral Introduction to the Baptism Service, and I have also used an idea I found elsewhere. We didn't have room to include the Pastoral Introduction on the Service Sheet, or the Notice Sheet so it was missed off. There was an argument that to include it would be too 'wordy'.
When I read through the final version of the service that we had printed, I noticed that for an unchurched person, they would leave the church knowing no more about our rather strange customs than when they arrived. This seemed wrong, especially for a church that does explain things.
The other aspect of this decision was that the lectionary reading called for an explantion of transubstantion/communion in Anglican terms, and this again seemed inappropriate for unchurched listeners. If they don't understand Baptism, how can I build on that to explain the Eucharist?
The reasons are above. The text is below. The outcome was that two long-standing members of the regular congregation said that they had never heard such a clear explanation of Baptism in their lives, and that some gaps in their understanding had been filled. Which just goes to show that liturgy teaches (one of my hobby horses!) and that sometimes plagiarism can be a positive thing :-) Thank you to the Archbishop's Council for providing these words that I have adapted.
Let us pray: May the words of my lips and the meditations of our hearts be now and always acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
In Hertfordshire it is possible to book a civil ‘naming ceremony’ through the staff of the Registration Service. It costs about £250, and provides a setting in which a family can make promises of commitment to a child. To quote from the publicity, “it has no legal standing, is unconnected with birth registration, cannot be used to change a child’s name and there is no religious content to a ceremony. The certificate issued at a ceremony cannot be used as for identification purposes nor are the promises made legally binding on those that make them.” Despite all the things that it is not, it seems to be based on the Baptism service, and I think that underlines the need we have to celebrate and mark the importance of a child in our lives, and the importance of promises in our lives, even for those with no religious faith.
This is not a naming ceremony, (and there is no charge). This ceremony is a Baptism, and yes, it is about celebration and promises, but it is much more than simply that. The entry in the church register afterwards will confirm this baptism has taken place, and that entry has legal standing.
The Baptism itself, with water in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is a sign that is recognised by every mainstream Christian church throughout the world – Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican, United Reform, Methodist. Baptism in one is valid in all.
For all of us, Baptism marks the beginning of a journey with God which continues for the rest of our lives, the first step in our response to God's love.
In baptism, you as parents are thanking God for the gift of Louie’s life, deciding to start him on the journey of faith and asking for the Church's support.
As Godparents, you will speak on behalf of Louie during the baptism service itself and have also promised to support Anthony and Claire in bringing the child up as a Christian within the family of the Church, so that in due course, he will confirm this faith for himself, come to confirmation and take his place as a full member of the Anglican Church.
It is as if you have put a sum of money into a bank account for Louie, and over the years to come you have the responsibility of helping him to look after it, and teaching him how to manage that until the time that he can take over responsibility for the account himself.
You have all made a public statement of renunciation of the devil and all that is evil and declare that you turn to Christ, and shortly, with the rest of the congregation you will make a declaration of Christian faith based on the ancient statement of Christian belief called the ‘Apostles’ Creed’.
For everyone involved, particularly the candidate but also parents, godparents and sponsors, it is a joyful moment when we rejoice in what God has done for us in Christ, making serious promises and declaring our shared faith.
The service itself paints many vivid pictures in symbols and signs of what happens on the Christian way.
We pray that God will use the water of baptism to cleanse Louie from sin and give him new life as part of His people. What does this word 'sin' mean?
(Here I did a visual illustration of sin/salvation using a handkerchief and some very dirty water, showing us being washed clean by baptism)
Baptism represents our 'drowning' in the water of baptism, where we believe we die to sin and are raised to new life; it unites us to Christ's dying and rising. Water is also a sign of new life, as we are born again by water and the Spirit, and we are reminded of Jesus' baptism.
There is the sign of the cross, the badge of faith in the Christian journey, which reminds us of Christ's death for us on the cross. Making this sign of the cross signifies that from now on Louie belongs to Christ and must be prepared to live as His follower.
When I make the sign of the cross on Louie's forehead, I will be anointing with chrism - note the similarity to the word Christening - the oil of those who are being baptised. This oil was blessed by the Bishop of this Diocese at the Maundy Thursday service at the Cathedral earlier this year, and has been distributed to all the churches in the Diocese. We all use the same oil. It is another symbol of our joint membership of one church. As in the days of the early Church this represents the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
And as a sign of that new life, we will give Louie a lighted candle, a picture of the light of Christ conquering the darkness of evil. Everyone who is baptized walks in that light for the rest of their lives.
The wider community of the local church and friends welcome the new Christian, also promising support and prayer for the future. Hearing and doing these things provides an opportunity to remember our own baptism and reflect on the progress made on that journey, which is now to be shared with this new member of the Church.
We will also pray that Louie may grow in holiness and may come eventually to share in the life of God’s eternal kingdom.
In Christian baptism our sins are washed clean, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, and we receive dignity as a beloved child of God. Every one of us; beloved, with dignity. This is strong imagery, but the images help us to understand real truths about how we are loved by God.
In a few minutes we will move to the font. It is placed next to the entrance because it symbolises our own entrance into faith. I would encourage each person here, as you pass the font later, to reflect on your own baptism and to remind you that you too are God’s beloved son or daughter. Let it remind you that you have been given the Spirit of holiness; let it assure you of God’s love and forgiveness and of your unity with Christ and other Christians through your baptism.
As you pray for Louie, picture him with yourself and the whole Church throughout the ages, journeying into the fullness of God's love. Jesus said, 'I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.' John 10:10
Let us pray: God of grace and life, in your love you have given us a place among your people; keep us faithful to our baptism, and prepare us for that glorious day when the whole creation will be made perfect in your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.
You might wonder why, over a year after being ordained as a deacon, and almost a month after being ordained as a priest, this is my first Baptism (the second is next week at the 'big' church - Sunnyside)
As an evangelical church we don't get lots of requests for baptisms, probably because we ask families to study a 6 week course so that they understand what they are asking for and committing to. If people want to have the ceremony with perhaps, less of an overt commitment for the time being, there are other Anglican churches locally that will help them.
This sermon may sound very familiar. It is. It is based quite closely on the Pastoral Introduction to the Baptism Service, and I have also used an idea I found elsewhere. We didn't have room to include the Pastoral Introduction on the Service Sheet, or the Notice Sheet so it was missed off. There was an argument that to include it would be too 'wordy'.
When I read through the final version of the service that we had printed, I noticed that for an unchurched person, they would leave the church knowing no more about our rather strange customs than when they arrived. This seemed wrong, especially for a church that does explain things.
The other aspect of this decision was that the lectionary reading called for an explantion of transubstantion/communion in Anglican terms, and this again seemed inappropriate for unchurched listeners. If they don't understand Baptism, how can I build on that to explain the Eucharist?
The reasons are above. The text is below. The outcome was that two long-standing members of the regular congregation said that they had never heard such a clear explanation of Baptism in their lives, and that some gaps in their understanding had been filled. Which just goes to show that liturgy teaches (one of my hobby horses!) and that sometimes plagiarism can be a positive thing :-) Thank you to the Archbishop's Council for providing these words that I have adapted.
Let us pray: May the words of my lips and the meditations of our hearts be now and always acceptable in your sight, O Lord our strength and our Redeemer. Amen.
In Hertfordshire it is possible to book a civil ‘naming ceremony’ through the staff of the Registration Service. It costs about £250, and provides a setting in which a family can make promises of commitment to a child. To quote from the publicity, “it has no legal standing, is unconnected with birth registration, cannot be used to change a child’s name and there is no religious content to a ceremony. The certificate issued at a ceremony cannot be used as for identification purposes nor are the promises made legally binding on those that make them.” Despite all the things that it is not, it seems to be based on the Baptism service, and I think that underlines the need we have to celebrate and mark the importance of a child in our lives, and the importance of promises in our lives, even for those with no religious faith.
This is not a naming ceremony, (and there is no charge). This ceremony is a Baptism, and yes, it is about celebration and promises, but it is much more than simply that. The entry in the church register afterwards will confirm this baptism has taken place, and that entry has legal standing.
The Baptism itself, with water in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, is a sign that is recognised by every mainstream Christian church throughout the world – Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Anglican, United Reform, Methodist. Baptism in one is valid in all.
For all of us, Baptism marks the beginning of a journey with God which continues for the rest of our lives, the first step in our response to God's love.
In baptism, you as parents are thanking God for the gift of Louie’s life, deciding to start him on the journey of faith and asking for the Church's support.
As Godparents, you will speak on behalf of Louie during the baptism service itself and have also promised to support Anthony and Claire in bringing the child up as a Christian within the family of the Church, so that in due course, he will confirm this faith for himself, come to confirmation and take his place as a full member of the Anglican Church.
It is as if you have put a sum of money into a bank account for Louie, and over the years to come you have the responsibility of helping him to look after it, and teaching him how to manage that until the time that he can take over responsibility for the account himself.
You have all made a public statement of renunciation of the devil and all that is evil and declare that you turn to Christ, and shortly, with the rest of the congregation you will make a declaration of Christian faith based on the ancient statement of Christian belief called the ‘Apostles’ Creed’.
For everyone involved, particularly the candidate but also parents, godparents and sponsors, it is a joyful moment when we rejoice in what God has done for us in Christ, making serious promises and declaring our shared faith.
The service itself paints many vivid pictures in symbols and signs of what happens on the Christian way.
We pray that God will use the water of baptism to cleanse Louie from sin and give him new life as part of His people. What does this word 'sin' mean?
(Here I did a visual illustration of sin/salvation using a handkerchief and some very dirty water, showing us being washed clean by baptism)
Baptism represents our 'drowning' in the water of baptism, where we believe we die to sin and are raised to new life; it unites us to Christ's dying and rising. Water is also a sign of new life, as we are born again by water and the Spirit, and we are reminded of Jesus' baptism.
There is the sign of the cross, the badge of faith in the Christian journey, which reminds us of Christ's death for us on the cross. Making this sign of the cross signifies that from now on Louie belongs to Christ and must be prepared to live as His follower.
When I make the sign of the cross on Louie's forehead, I will be anointing with chrism - note the similarity to the word Christening - the oil of those who are being baptised. This oil was blessed by the Bishop of this Diocese at the Maundy Thursday service at the Cathedral earlier this year, and has been distributed to all the churches in the Diocese. We all use the same oil. It is another symbol of our joint membership of one church. As in the days of the early Church this represents the outpouring of the Holy Spirit.
And as a sign of that new life, we will give Louie a lighted candle, a picture of the light of Christ conquering the darkness of evil. Everyone who is baptized walks in that light for the rest of their lives.
The wider community of the local church and friends welcome the new Christian, also promising support and prayer for the future. Hearing and doing these things provides an opportunity to remember our own baptism and reflect on the progress made on that journey, which is now to be shared with this new member of the Church.
We will also pray that Louie may grow in holiness and may come eventually to share in the life of God’s eternal kingdom.
In Christian baptism our sins are washed clean, we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit, and we receive dignity as a beloved child of God. Every one of us; beloved, with dignity. This is strong imagery, but the images help us to understand real truths about how we are loved by God.
In a few minutes we will move to the font. It is placed next to the entrance because it symbolises our own entrance into faith. I would encourage each person here, as you pass the font later, to reflect on your own baptism and to remind you that you too are God’s beloved son or daughter. Let it remind you that you have been given the Spirit of holiness; let it assure you of God’s love and forgiveness and of your unity with Christ and other Christians through your baptism.
As you pray for Louie, picture him with yourself and the whole Church throughout the ages, journeying into the fullness of God's love. Jesus said, 'I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.' John 10:10
Let us pray: God of grace and life, in your love you have given us a place among your people; keep us faithful to our baptism, and prepare us for that glorious day when the whole creation will be made perfect in your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ. Amen.
Sunday, 26 July 2009
Sermon: 26th July 2009 - John 6:1-21
Before I start I'd like to refer you all, everyone who has the opportunity to listen again, to Dick's sermon on this topic. It should be on the Sunnyside website within a couple of days. Dick is exploring this story from the persepctive of Jesus being the 'new' Moses, the prophet spoken of by Moses, via the parallels between this story and the story of the Exodus - bread for the hungry, walking on water/splitting the water etc. It's worth listening to. However, I'm going to look at this story from a different perspective.
Last week I spoke about the compassion and power of Jesus,
Today I want to look at the resources that are being used, particularly in the story of feeding the crowd. But first I’d like to note that this miracle is the only one that appears in all four gospels, so whatever emphasis each gospel writer puts on the story, whoever his version is aimed at, this is an important story.
Last week we read from Mark’s gospel; today we look at the version in John’s gospel, and with it to a more complex version of the story; with layer upon layer of meaning and allusions, far too much, in fact, to talk about today. And I note that we've just sung about God providing manna - food in times of need.
To stay at the simple level this is a story about the kingdom of God breaking through as Jesus meets our needs, and shows his mastery of natural laws. At the same time Jesus opens our eyes to our own resources, and the power within that.
And in among the many layers of meaning, there is also our individual response to the text, which must, because we are made in the image of God, will also influence our understanding. So may I invite you to come with me on a journey, as I look at the elements of this story as if it were a play, and what that has to say to us.
Firstly there is the time of the events – near to Passover, It’s a time when all God’s people turn to remembrance of Divine intervention in the history of the people; when God saved them from slavery in Egypt through the faithfulness of Moses. Are we intended to make that connection with Jesus as the new Moses, a prophet? Listen to Dick to find out.
Let’s look at the place. In John’s gospel this is on a mountain. Where do prophets go to reveal the power and presence of God; that’s right – mountains. Think of Elija and Elisha on Mount Carmel.
Let’s look at the characters involved and their relationship to Jesus.
The crowd. Was this only a crowd of lost and disenfranchised people looking for something that only God could provide? Or was it also a group of people seeking a political solution to their slavery? John tells us that the people followed Jesus because they saw miraculous signs he had performed on the sick. John doesn’t use words carelessly; when he used the word 'signs' it was because a sign points to something.
The healing that John speaks of is not the end in itself; all healing in the bible is only ever temporary. That doesn't stop it from being special to the person, their friends and relatives, but people still die in the end. However their healing gives them and others a foretaste of the future that we cannot see now, but believe will come, a glimpse into a future where pain and suffering is no more and our wholeness is completely restored.
The healing is a sign that points to a future when chaos and dis-order is completely over-ruled by a greater power. That is what I mean by God’s kingdom breaking through. The healing is a sign that points to Jesus being more than just an itinerant preacher. It is actually, and they are correct in this, a sign that Jesus is their king – just not in the way that they think.
This is also about power, and the use and misuse of power. Just as Jesus was encouraged, in the wilderness, to turn stones into bread for his own comfort, so the crowds here represent another temptation – to be distracted from his real mission by having human greatness thrust upon him; to accept the transient symbols of earthly power; to allow himself to be proclaimed what he was later accused of being – King of the Jews.
So, when Jesus actually performs a miracle involving bread, to feed the hungry, I can imagine a slight twinkle in an eye, and I can almost hear a voice saying, "you see, I can do it – at my will, not yours."
As a result the crowd is taught and fed, their immediate needs are met, their minds are opened; but they are not yet ready to understand everything and they are wrong in their conclusion; so Jesus makes his exit, back - to a mountain. A mountain - mentioned twice in one passage – John doesn’t waste words.
Now let’s turn to the disciples. What do they think is happening? Do they know more than the crowd? In modern management parlance – what is the learning point for them?
They are presented with a serious and apparently insoluble issue. Jesus’ words must have sounded a bit like “Houston, we have a problem” when he asked where to buy bread. Philip’s reply is not about where, but about the wherewithal – the cost. Again John is painting a subtle picture for us here. The actual cost of salvation in this gospel is far more than eight month's wages isn't it? Jesus has asked a question that has presupposed two things – firstly, that the solution is available outside the group, and secondly that it can be bought for money.
Philip’s reply is a quite straightforward answer to a question – thinking inside the box – 'we can’t do it that way.' It sets up the next statement.
Andrew’s follow-on statement is more interesting; he starts from where they are, with what they have – not a lot, but something. We then go on to read about the miracle. For now though, I wonder how often we look for outside solutions, wish for resources that we don’t have and can’t get, rather than look to the meagre resources that we do have and start from there.
If we look again at Moses, who reckoned himself to be a poor public speaker, Moses who wanted his brother Aaron to speak for him, God worked with that, took Moses from the man he was, and turned him into the man he wanted Moses to be. In this story, a few loaves and fishes become enough to meet the needs of a large number of people – the resources to feed the crowd came from the resources of the crowd.
And after people had ‘as much as they wanted’, they didn’t throw away the left-overs. This kingdom of God is not wasteful. You and I are not left-overs. All are safely gathered in – bread and fish – is this a reference to Jews and Gentiles? The analogy here is with the twelve tribes of Israel –the twelve baskets – full, ‘nothing be wasted’ – all God’s people safely together, and that after all have been fed – no-one goes hungry.
The disciples were the foil to this miracle – obedient, trusting, maybe a bit puzzled, certainly not aware of everything that was going in, but like us, learning as we go – works in progress.
There is another character that really matters in this story – one who is often ignored; the “boy with five small loaves and two small fish”. Suppose one boy had hung onto his lunch? Suppose he had decided that it would be better for him to be fed than for everyone to be hungry – after all, what difference could his small offering make to such need? Why should he give up his lunch?
Many of you will know this story, but it’s worth repeating,
And, as I look through the glass door to the hall beyond, I ask, - how often, when we do start something in faith, do we find that the abundance and love of God overflows and leaves us with far more than we could have hoped for?
Here is another quote to close with,
Last week I spoke about the compassion and power of Jesus,
Jesus shows that his gifts are also for the present – Jesus feeding people with physical food. And in another sign of the greater power, Jesus then walks
on water and stills the wind. Several different images of power, each time used to teach others that the kingdom of God is more powerful than the forces created by it; more powerful than ignorance, hunger, fear, natural laws, and man-made laws.
Today I want to look at the resources that are being used, particularly in the story of feeding the crowd. But first I’d like to note that this miracle is the only one that appears in all four gospels, so whatever emphasis each gospel writer puts on the story, whoever his version is aimed at, this is an important story.
Last week we read from Mark’s gospel; today we look at the version in John’s gospel, and with it to a more complex version of the story; with layer upon layer of meaning and allusions, far too much, in fact, to talk about today. And I note that we've just sung about God providing manna - food in times of need.
To stay at the simple level this is a story about the kingdom of God breaking through as Jesus meets our needs, and shows his mastery of natural laws. At the same time Jesus opens our eyes to our own resources, and the power within that.
And in among the many layers of meaning, there is also our individual response to the text, which must, because we are made in the image of God, will also influence our understanding. So may I invite you to come with me on a journey, as I look at the elements of this story as if it were a play, and what that has to say to us.
Firstly there is the time of the events – near to Passover, It’s a time when all God’s people turn to remembrance of Divine intervention in the history of the people; when God saved them from slavery in Egypt through the faithfulness of Moses. Are we intended to make that connection with Jesus as the new Moses, a prophet? Listen to Dick to find out.
Let’s look at the place. In John’s gospel this is on a mountain. Where do prophets go to reveal the power and presence of God; that’s right – mountains. Think of Elija and Elisha on Mount Carmel.
Let’s look at the characters involved and their relationship to Jesus.
The crowd. Was this only a crowd of lost and disenfranchised people looking for something that only God could provide? Or was it also a group of people seeking a political solution to their slavery? John tells us that the people followed Jesus because they saw miraculous signs he had performed on the sick. John doesn’t use words carelessly; when he used the word 'signs' it was because a sign points to something.
The healing that John speaks of is not the end in itself; all healing in the bible is only ever temporary. That doesn't stop it from being special to the person, their friends and relatives, but people still die in the end. However their healing gives them and others a foretaste of the future that we cannot see now, but believe will come, a glimpse into a future where pain and suffering is no more and our wholeness is completely restored.
The healing is a sign that points to a future when chaos and dis-order is completely over-ruled by a greater power. That is what I mean by God’s kingdom breaking through. The healing is a sign that points to Jesus being more than just an itinerant preacher. It is actually, and they are correct in this, a sign that Jesus is their king – just not in the way that they think.
This is also about power, and the use and misuse of power. Just as Jesus was encouraged, in the wilderness, to turn stones into bread for his own comfort, so the crowds here represent another temptation – to be distracted from his real mission by having human greatness thrust upon him; to accept the transient symbols of earthly power; to allow himself to be proclaimed what he was later accused of being – King of the Jews.
So, when Jesus actually performs a miracle involving bread, to feed the hungry, I can imagine a slight twinkle in an eye, and I can almost hear a voice saying, "you see, I can do it – at my will, not yours."
As a result the crowd is taught and fed, their immediate needs are met, their minds are opened; but they are not yet ready to understand everything and they are wrong in their conclusion; so Jesus makes his exit, back - to a mountain. A mountain - mentioned twice in one passage – John doesn’t waste words.
Now let’s turn to the disciples. What do they think is happening? Do they know more than the crowd? In modern management parlance – what is the learning point for them?
They are presented with a serious and apparently insoluble issue. Jesus’ words must have sounded a bit like “Houston, we have a problem” when he asked where to buy bread. Philip’s reply is not about where, but about the wherewithal – the cost. Again John is painting a subtle picture for us here. The actual cost of salvation in this gospel is far more than eight month's wages isn't it? Jesus has asked a question that has presupposed two things – firstly, that the solution is available outside the group, and secondly that it can be bought for money.
Philip’s reply is a quite straightforward answer to a question – thinking inside the box – 'we can’t do it that way.' It sets up the next statement.
Andrew’s follow-on statement is more interesting; he starts from where they are, with what they have – not a lot, but something. We then go on to read about the miracle. For now though, I wonder how often we look for outside solutions, wish for resources that we don’t have and can’t get, rather than look to the meagre resources that we do have and start from there.
If we look again at Moses, who reckoned himself to be a poor public speaker, Moses who wanted his brother Aaron to speak for him, God worked with that, took Moses from the man he was, and turned him into the man he wanted Moses to be. In this story, a few loaves and fishes become enough to meet the needs of a large number of people – the resources to feed the crowd came from the resources of the crowd.
And after people had ‘as much as they wanted’, they didn’t throw away the left-overs. This kingdom of God is not wasteful. You and I are not left-overs. All are safely gathered in – bread and fish – is this a reference to Jews and Gentiles? The analogy here is with the twelve tribes of Israel –the twelve baskets – full, ‘nothing be wasted’ – all God’s people safely together, and that after all have been fed – no-one goes hungry.
The disciples were the foil to this miracle – obedient, trusting, maybe a bit puzzled, certainly not aware of everything that was going in, but like us, learning as we go – works in progress.
There is another character that really matters in this story – one who is often ignored; the “boy with five small loaves and two small fish”. Suppose one boy had hung onto his lunch? Suppose he had decided that it would be better for him to be fed than for everyone to be hungry – after all, what difference could his small offering make to such need? Why should he give up his lunch?
Many of you will know this story, but it’s worth repeating,
A man was walking along a beach when in the distance he could see a small boy down on the shore line. As he got closer he could see thousands of starfish, washed up by an unusually strong tide, and left for dead stranded on the beach. The man paused and watched the little boy repeatedly bending down, picking each starfish up one by one and tossing it back into the water. The man approached the little boy and said “What are you doing? Stop now, you will tire yourself out, there are too many starfish stranded that you can’t make a difference here. The young boy stooped down silently, picked up another starfish and threw it back into the ocean. “It made a difference to that one” he said.”
How often do we find ourselves feeling overwhelmed by the scale of the problems we have to face, certain that we need far more than we have to make any difference at all. I find this story really challenging on that basis. We are so used to reading this story and thinking of abundance and generosity, of needs being met and wants exceeded, of Jesus the miracle-worker, showing us the kingdom breaking through, bringing wholeness and peace and the promise of eternity. And yet, isn’t it really easy to see this in terms of someone else doing something else to make things right for us? Isn’t that what the crowd wanted?
How often do we have the courage to work with God, to provide the loaves and fishes for the banquet? How often do we let our own doubts and fears stop us from looking to our own resources first to solve problems.And, as I look through the glass door to the hall beyond, I ask, - how often, when we do start something in faith, do we find that the abundance and love of God overflows and leaves us with far more than we could have hoped for?
Here is another quote to close with,
What are you waiting for?
I’m waiting for my lottery numbers to come up.
I’m waiting for my children to grow up.
I’m waiting for the weather to change.
I’m waiting for him to say sorry.
I’m waiting for George to lend me a stepladder.
I’m waiting for the government to make a decision.
I’m waiting for the phone to ring.
I’m waiting for the fashion to change.
I’m waiting for the council to ‘do something.’
I’m waiting for a miracle.
I’m waiting for someone else to bring the bread.
Monday, 20 July 2009
Sermon: 12th July 2009 - Ephesians 1:3-14
You can listen to this here (which just proves that I don't always say exactly what I write...)
Almighty and everlasting God, by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified: hear our prayer which we offer for all your faithful people, that in their vocation and ministry each may serve you in holiness and truth to the glory of your name; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen
God’s love is a freely given gift of grace, and we choose whether and how to respond to it.
A year ago I stood here and told you about a big thing that I had done some 25 years earlier (a parachute jump), and I reflected on the bigger thing that I had done the previous week (being ordained as a deacon). Doesn’t time fly?
Today I look back at that bigger thing, and think about the even bigger thing that I was blessed with last Saturday, in responding to God’s call on my life (being ordained as a deacon). That blessing was in the form of the Holy Spirit being called to guide and support me in my work as a priest. And I’m very grateful to have that help, because life without God is like living in black and white compared to the full colour and glory of life with God.
But today, I’m looking out at all of you here, and thanking God for every one of you that has also chosen to accept the call on your lives from God; to become part of Christ’s Church here in this place, and to share the love of God with each other and with those who do not yet know God.
Each one of us has a part to play in God’s plan. Each one of us, as we have heard in our Collect prayer today, has a vocation and ministry to serve you in holiness and truth. And every one of us as the Ephesians passage tells us is, “blessed in the heavenly realm with every spiritual blessing in Christ”
In Psalm 8 we read that God has made us for himself; ‘a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned with glory and honour.’
Ephesians, this passage that is a song of praise to God for what he has done for us, tells us that were chosen, before the creation of the world, to be holy and blameless; that we were pre-destined (chosen) to be adopted into God’s family. Were you listening two weeks ago to Bishop John Taylor when he talked about the responsibility of the redeemer - the family member who will come to our rescue when we are in trouble, the one who pays our debts to keep us out of jail, the one who takes us into their family if we are orphaned?
That description reminded me of something that happened in Bishops Stortford when my own children were very young.
The parents of a family of young boys were killed in a car crash, and their sons were orphaned. The boys had been staying with their best friends, also a family of boys. The parents then cared for them during the immediate aftermath, and eventually adopted them, bringing up all the boys together as one family. That’s redemption; that’s love in action – our call to care for the widow and the orphan.
We are adopted into God’s family, when we believe and are baptised, we become part of that family. It’s a family bound together by love. It’s a family that is given remarkable gifts by the Holy Spirit. It’s a family that relishes good things.
Look at some of the words used in this reading:
Holy, blameless, praise, blessing, pleasure, glory, grace (freely given), chosen, included. Get the picture?
This is a free gift to us, yet expensively given by God – our sins are forgiven, “in accordance with the richness of God’s grace”.
No more guilt, no more fear; we are loved, we are safe in that love, safe in that family. Whatever happens to us in our lives, and it doesn't mean that we will be protected from living the same kind of lives as other people... if we are in that relationship with God, we have that support, strength and comfort. Most, if not all of us here today have accepted that gift, and our own experience shows us the truth of the promise. Why not talk to each other afterwards and share just one thing you have experienced as a member of God’s family? Have a look at the board outside and see how the family of the church has nurtured and sustained people’s faith in this place.
Many of us have gone beyond simple acceptance of the gift. We have allowed it to work in us; we have also listened to God’s call on our lives, and have found great joy in working to fulfil that calling – whether inside the church doing the jobs that maintain this community, or outside the church in working and social relationships that show God’s love in action in the world.
I am thankful for all those cards on the board outside, and for all the stories not told, for every one of you, and for those who can’t get to Morning Prayer in the church, you might be glad to know that the sound of the trains often prompts us to pray for the work of each and every member here, both inside the church community and outside in the world.
And yet, there are people who do not know that; people who are seeking answers to questions they can’t even frame – that vague feeling of dis-ease and dis-satisfacton that permeates our culture today.
I was at a conference yesterday where the Canon Robin Brown, who wrote the ‘Growing Together in Christ’ course, spoke of the difference between our society and the world of the people who wrote the Psalms. He said that today our big question is ‘Does God exist? We see that questioning in the recent debates about bus advertising, and the current posters for Alpha – there are some in this church.
Robin then said that in the days of the Psalmists there was no doubt about the existence of God, but there was debate about the goodness of God. Is God good? Does God care about me? People felt able to be honest before God and to challenge the unfairness they found in their lives. Psalm 22 was quoted by Jesus on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” They were able to be honest and to work through their fears and furies; the last four Psalms are all Psalms of praise.
Robin makes some good points, but I’m not entirely convinced that the division between then and now is quite so clear-cut. I wonder whether some of the militant atheism that we see around us today is really a concealed fear that God does exist, but is really,
“an unpleasant character… jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynist, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully” – to quote Richard Dawkins.
You will be glad to know that Dawkins also states that this is a fictional description. And to be honest, if this was my experience of God, I wouldn’t want to worship God, and I probably would prefer not to believe – rather like a child covering their eyes and pretending that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.
(However, as anyone who has tried that with a child over about 8 weeks knows, the child also knows that it isn’t true, because they giggle when you put your hands down – they share the joke.)
I suspect, but I can’t prove it, that a lot of people who say they don’t believe in God are still willing to accept that they are spiritual people, that there is an extra dimension to that expressed by science and logic – something known, something understood, rather than something that can be weighed and measured.
I suspect, though I can’t prove it, that there are people who come across as hard-bitten and cynical, who would love to absorb and respond to the message that is in today’s reading, that God’s love is freely given, a gift of grace, undeserved and unearned, a mystery. I wonder though if they are afraid that God isn’t big enough, loving enough, if they are not good enough to benefit from such a gift.
And I also think, and this is the challenge for us, that Paul was entirely truthful when he wrote, cognisant of the mystery that is God’s will, that God’s purpose is “to bring all things in heaven and on earth together”. All things. All things in heaven and on earth.
By our baptism we are members together, we are marked with the seal of the Holy Spirit; we belong to Christ. Our inheritance is guaranteed.
If God’s love is a freely given gift of grace, and if there is more than enough to go round, what is our role in helping others to hear that good news for themselves? What is God calling us to do? What gifts are we being called to exercise in his name? What decisions are we being asked to make? What response is appropriate to this word that we have heard today?
I’d like to do a small experiment now.
In a minute I’d everyone to sit quietly and to close their eyes, and then to listen, quietly, to see what God’s Holy Spirit saying to you? I’m not going to ask for direct responses today – that’s something that you might like to share in your house-groups, or to pray with other people about after the service.
Let’s be silent now and listen to God.
Almighty and everlasting God, by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified: hear our prayer which we offer for all your faithful people, that in their vocation and ministry each may serve you in holiness and truth to the glory of your name; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen
Almighty and everlasting God, by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified: hear our prayer which we offer for all your faithful people, that in their vocation and ministry each may serve you in holiness and truth to the glory of your name; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen
God’s love is a freely given gift of grace, and we choose whether and how to respond to it.
A year ago I stood here and told you about a big thing that I had done some 25 years earlier (a parachute jump), and I reflected on the bigger thing that I had done the previous week (being ordained as a deacon). Doesn’t time fly?
Today I look back at that bigger thing, and think about the even bigger thing that I was blessed with last Saturday, in responding to God’s call on my life (being ordained as a deacon). That blessing was in the form of the Holy Spirit being called to guide and support me in my work as a priest. And I’m very grateful to have that help, because life without God is like living in black and white compared to the full colour and glory of life with God.
But today, I’m looking out at all of you here, and thanking God for every one of you that has also chosen to accept the call on your lives from God; to become part of Christ’s Church here in this place, and to share the love of God with each other and with those who do not yet know God.
Each one of us has a part to play in God’s plan. Each one of us, as we have heard in our Collect prayer today, has a vocation and ministry to serve you in holiness and truth. And every one of us as the Ephesians passage tells us is, “blessed in the heavenly realm with every spiritual blessing in Christ”
In Psalm 8 we read that God has made us for himself; ‘a little lower than the heavenly beings and crowned with glory and honour.’
Ephesians, this passage that is a song of praise to God for what he has done for us, tells us that were chosen, before the creation of the world, to be holy and blameless; that we were pre-destined (chosen) to be adopted into God’s family. Were you listening two weeks ago to Bishop John Taylor when he talked about the responsibility of the redeemer - the family member who will come to our rescue when we are in trouble, the one who pays our debts to keep us out of jail, the one who takes us into their family if we are orphaned?
That description reminded me of something that happened in Bishops Stortford when my own children were very young.
The parents of a family of young boys were killed in a car crash, and their sons were orphaned. The boys had been staying with their best friends, also a family of boys. The parents then cared for them during the immediate aftermath, and eventually adopted them, bringing up all the boys together as one family. That’s redemption; that’s love in action – our call to care for the widow and the orphan.
We are adopted into God’s family, when we believe and are baptised, we become part of that family. It’s a family bound together by love. It’s a family that is given remarkable gifts by the Holy Spirit. It’s a family that relishes good things.
Look at some of the words used in this reading:
Holy, blameless, praise, blessing, pleasure, glory, grace (freely given), chosen, included. Get the picture?
This is a free gift to us, yet expensively given by God – our sins are forgiven, “in accordance with the richness of God’s grace”.
No more guilt, no more fear; we are loved, we are safe in that love, safe in that family. Whatever happens to us in our lives, and it doesn't mean that we will be protected from living the same kind of lives as other people... if we are in that relationship with God, we have that support, strength and comfort. Most, if not all of us here today have accepted that gift, and our own experience shows us the truth of the promise. Why not talk to each other afterwards and share just one thing you have experienced as a member of God’s family? Have a look at the board outside and see how the family of the church has nurtured and sustained people’s faith in this place.
Many of us have gone beyond simple acceptance of the gift. We have allowed it to work in us; we have also listened to God’s call on our lives, and have found great joy in working to fulfil that calling – whether inside the church doing the jobs that maintain this community, or outside the church in working and social relationships that show God’s love in action in the world.
I am thankful for all those cards on the board outside, and for all the stories not told, for every one of you, and for those who can’t get to Morning Prayer in the church, you might be glad to know that the sound of the trains often prompts us to pray for the work of each and every member here, both inside the church community and outside in the world.
And yet, there are people who do not know that; people who are seeking answers to questions they can’t even frame – that vague feeling of dis-ease and dis-satisfacton that permeates our culture today.
I was at a conference yesterday where the Canon Robin Brown, who wrote the ‘Growing Together in Christ’ course, spoke of the difference between our society and the world of the people who wrote the Psalms. He said that today our big question is ‘Does God exist? We see that questioning in the recent debates about bus advertising, and the current posters for Alpha – there are some in this church.
Robin then said that in the days of the Psalmists there was no doubt about the existence of God, but there was debate about the goodness of God. Is God good? Does God care about me? People felt able to be honest before God and to challenge the unfairness they found in their lives. Psalm 22 was quoted by Jesus on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” They were able to be honest and to work through their fears and furies; the last four Psalms are all Psalms of praise.
Robin makes some good points, but I’m not entirely convinced that the division between then and now is quite so clear-cut. I wonder whether some of the militant atheism that we see around us today is really a concealed fear that God does exist, but is really,
“an unpleasant character… jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynist, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully” – to quote Richard Dawkins.
You will be glad to know that Dawkins also states that this is a fictional description. And to be honest, if this was my experience of God, I wouldn’t want to worship God, and I probably would prefer not to believe – rather like a child covering their eyes and pretending that if they can’t see you, you can’t see them.
(However, as anyone who has tried that with a child over about 8 weeks knows, the child also knows that it isn’t true, because they giggle when you put your hands down – they share the joke.)
I suspect, but I can’t prove it, that a lot of people who say they don’t believe in God are still willing to accept that they are spiritual people, that there is an extra dimension to that expressed by science and logic – something known, something understood, rather than something that can be weighed and measured.
I suspect, though I can’t prove it, that there are people who come across as hard-bitten and cynical, who would love to absorb and respond to the message that is in today’s reading, that God’s love is freely given, a gift of grace, undeserved and unearned, a mystery. I wonder though if they are afraid that God isn’t big enough, loving enough, if they are not good enough to benefit from such a gift.
And I also think, and this is the challenge for us, that Paul was entirely truthful when he wrote, cognisant of the mystery that is God’s will, that God’s purpose is “to bring all things in heaven and on earth together”. All things. All things in heaven and on earth.
By our baptism we are members together, we are marked with the seal of the Holy Spirit; we belong to Christ. Our inheritance is guaranteed.
If God’s love is a freely given gift of grace, and if there is more than enough to go round, what is our role in helping others to hear that good news for themselves? What is God calling us to do? What gifts are we being called to exercise in his name? What decisions are we being asked to make? What response is appropriate to this word that we have heard today?
I’d like to do a small experiment now.
In a minute I’d everyone to sit quietly and to close their eyes, and then to listen, quietly, to see what God’s Holy Spirit saying to you? I’m not going to ask for direct responses today – that’s something that you might like to share in your house-groups, or to pray with other people about after the service.
Let’s be silent now and listen to God.
Almighty and everlasting God, by whose Spirit the whole body of the Church is governed and sanctified: hear our prayer which we offer for all your faithful people, that in their vocation and ministry each may serve you in holiness and truth to the glory of your name; through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, who is alive and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Sermon: 19th July 2009 - Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
Mark 6:30-34, 53-56
The television programme, Antiques Roadshow has been running for many years, and remains endlessly fascinating. People queue for hours to discover something unknown about a familiar object, possibly also hoping that the item will may also be valuable; and we watch their reactions with vicarious pleasure. My brother once queued with a pair of Victorian bronze vases, owned by my mother, to be told that he held… a pair of Victorian bronze vases; apparently they are very common items.
One of the things I have learned through watching the programme is that old pictures in shoddy cheap frames are seldom valuable; and that a high quality old frame is seldom wasted on a bad picture. So a frame provides clues to the picture and vice versa.
Today’s readings from the gospel of Mark form part of a set of stories that demonstrate who Jesus is, and people’s dawning understanding of his love, compassion and power. The extracts for today frame two demonstrations of Jesus’ power; feeding the needy - five thousand of them, and bringing calm - walking on the water and stilling the wind. Both of these show Jesus bringing nature and natural laws under his command. But today, we are not looking at the picture in the centre; we are looking at the frame – the parts of the story that are easy to miss when we focus on the well-known and the familiar.
In the first extract we learn something of Jesus’ character and motivation. He has compassion on the people. That phrase, ‘having compassion’ was brought home to me when I visited St Paul’s Cathedral and saw an amazing painting. Not ‘The Light of the World’ by Holman Hunt – that left me cold.
No, the picture I saw was called Golgotha, and it was painted by SERGEI CHEPIK, a Russian artist. It was on loan to the Cathedral, and proved so popular that when it was removed Sergei Chepik was commissioned to paint a series of bible stories, which now hang in the main transept. But you do need to look up or you might miss them.
The television programme, Antiques Roadshow has been running for many years, and remains endlessly fascinating. People queue for hours to discover something unknown about a familiar object, possibly also hoping that the item will may also be valuable; and we watch their reactions with vicarious pleasure. My brother once queued with a pair of Victorian bronze vases, owned by my mother, to be told that he held… a pair of Victorian bronze vases; apparently they are very common items.
One of the things I have learned through watching the programme is that old pictures in shoddy cheap frames are seldom valuable; and that a high quality old frame is seldom wasted on a bad picture. So a frame provides clues to the picture and vice versa.
Today’s readings from the gospel of Mark form part of a set of stories that demonstrate who Jesus is, and people’s dawning understanding of his love, compassion and power. The extracts for today frame two demonstrations of Jesus’ power; feeding the needy - five thousand of them, and bringing calm - walking on the water and stilling the wind. Both of these show Jesus bringing nature and natural laws under his command. But today, we are not looking at the picture in the centre; we are looking at the frame – the parts of the story that are easy to miss when we focus on the well-known and the familiar.
In the first extract we learn something of Jesus’ character and motivation. He has compassion on the people. That phrase, ‘having compassion’ was brought home to me when I visited St Paul’s Cathedral and saw an amazing painting. Not ‘The Light of the World’ by Holman Hunt – that left me cold.
No, the picture I saw was called Golgotha, and it was painted by SERGEI CHEPIK, a Russian artist. It was on loan to the Cathedral, and proved so popular that when it was removed Sergei Chepik was commissioned to paint a series of bible stories, which now hang in the main transept. But you do need to look up or you might miss them.
Golgotha's originality lies in the fact that Christ is represented only in the
shadow of the cross. The viewer therefore finds himself in the position of the
crucified, confronted by a crowd of onlookers, whose expressions run from horror
and pity to contempt and disbelief. The stifling midday sun and oppressive walls
of the ancient city create an almost unbearable claustrophobia. Its impact is
breathtaking. (Guardian 1999)
I would second that. When I saw the picture, I stood in front of it, transfixed. The artist enabled me to see humanity as Jesus saw it; and it brought tears to my eyes. It is hard to look on needy people and not be moved – we all know that from the Live Aid concerts.
Jesus looked on a crowd of needy people, people without the guidance, direction and care that they needed, and we are told that he had compassion. Interestingly, he didn’t initially offer to heal them; the first thing that came out of that compassion was that he taught them. He started to give them the tools to care for themselves in the future.
That’s a good model for us to follow - xxxxx xxxx does that when she travels to places like Bangladesh and Angola. She doesn’t just make physical aids for the disabled; she shows and teaches then how to do it for themselves so that after she has left they can carry on with the work for themselves. She helps them, and she teaches them to help themselves.
And in among all these needy people in our story were the disciples; also needing to learn, and watching Jesus, learning from his actions; the way that he offered himself and his presence to those in need. I remember some training that I did – about adult learning and how to train people in the workplace. One of the methods used is called, “Sitting next to Nellie”. If you have someone who knows how to do the job properly, sit the trainees next to them. That’s more or less what the disciples were doing at this point, and what must they have been learning as they watched the master? Sitting next to Jesus?
We then have the main picture, and Jesus shows that his gifts are also for the present – Jesus feeding people with physical food. And in another sign of the greater power, Jesus then walks on water and stills the wind. Several different images of power, each time used to teach others that the kingdom of God is more powerful than the forces created by it; more powerful than ignorance, hunger, fear, natural laws, and man-made laws.
And at the bottom of the picture, back to the frame, just beyond the point at which we would normally stop reading… we see that word has spread, and people are running to meet Jesus. They just can’t get to him quickly enough, and everywhere he goes people bring their sick to be healed. They placed the sick in the marketplaces; they didn’t keep them away, as ritually unclean, suddenly the sick were in the middle of crowds of people, and crowds were struggling to get to Jesus, to touch the hem of his cloak – to make him ritually unclean too. But even the hem of his cloak, the edge of his being, was enough to heal. Not just broken and damaged people, but also to begin healig a fractured and divided society.
All this ‘uncleanness’, and all this healing were mixed in together in a crazy chaotic muddle. God’s kingdom was breaking through and order was turned upside down. Can you imagine the noise and the crowds, and the excitement? No wonder the authorities were worried. And this, of course, is only a part of it, only the frame to the picture, and even with the rest of the stories included, it’s still only a glimpse of the full glory to come, the resurrection and our salvation.
Sometimes you just know when something is valuable. You don’t need an expert and a television camera to tell you. We place huge store on ‘things’, in our lives. And yet, when you ask people what would be the one thing they would save from their homes in the event of a fire, they will almost always want to caveat the choice with, “Once I knew my family were safe” before they run back for the photo albums, or something that reminds them of precious relationships. It certainly won’t be the silver fish knives, or a pair of Victorian bronze vases.
Those people on the shores of Lake Galilee, desperate for the love of God in their lives were the same people that Jesus looked down on from the cross. The same people from whom he chose his disciples, ordinary, confused, sometimes lost, looking for the right way and for guidance, sometimes getting life right, sometimes wondering why things have gone so horribly wrong. They represent you and me.
But we don’t have to run to catch Jesus before he moves on, We are the other side of that story, we are outside the frame looking in at a story that has the most joyful of endings; the resurrection, our salvation, our membership of a life with Christ. We are no longer unclean; we no longer have to reach to touch the edge of his cloak because we are one with Christ.
I’d be interested to see what value Antiques Roadshow would place on that.
Saturday, 13 June 2009
Sermon: 14th June 2009 - As small as a mustard seed.
It’s a commonly heard remark that our society has lost contact with the cycle of growth and nurturing that is farming. My father was born a farmer and remains that in his heart today. He is a man of the soil - has grown vegetables all of his life – still does.
My children were born in towns, and lived a suburban early life. Much as I enjoy gardens, I am not a gardener, so my children spent their early years believing that peas came out of the freezer in a bag marked ‘Bejam.’ (Remember them?) That was, until a holiday visit to my parents on their retirement smallholding. Imagine the children’s surprise and wonder the first time they saw peas growing, and popped the pods to find the peas inside. If you know anything about children you will also understand that not many of those peas made it indoors; most were eaten in the field where they were picked.
Food production was closer to people’s daily experience in the days before Mr Clarence Birdseye patented plate freezing in 1930 to preserve that ‘sweet as the moment when the pod went pop’ taste.
The Greek word used in Mark’s gospel that describes Jesus’ trade was ‘tekton’, from which we get our modern word, technology. It is often translated as carpenter, but is more accurately a builder, a worker of stone, metal and wood. Modern scholarship and archaeology supports this, and suggests that Jesus probably grew up in Nazareth and worked with his father as a day labourer at the nearby very grand and wealthy Roman city of Sepphoris, 3 miles from Nazareth.
During his walk to and from work each day, Jesus would have had plenty of time to become familiar with the cycles of farming, both arable and stock, and of the fishermen.
It’s no surprise then that, after he leaves Nazareth and starts his ministry Jesus uses images of farming to speak to his followers on the shores of the Lake of Galilee. We know that Jesus was being watched by the local Pharisees and scribes, eager to avoid an insurrection. We can surmise that Romans would also have been interested in what was being said to a crowd, but stories of soil and seeds must have seemed quite boring.
We need to seek the meaning. The major issue that commentators have with all of Jesus’ parables is that the apparent simplicity can yield a number of ever more interesting ideas as the Holy Spirit leads us deeper into understanding of God’s word. In this case I’ll try to avoid going down too many rabbit holes!
In Chapter 4 of Marks gospel we have first, the parable of the soil, then a story about a seed growing, then the parable of the mustard seed. In the middle of these simple farming metaphors Jesus tells his followers (when they are in private) that, ‘that which is hidden is meant to be disclosed’. In other words, there is meaning in the stories that goes beyond the obvious top layer. They are meant to be looking for new meanings, as are we.
Firstly I’d like to say that the mustard plant is not the most attractive you will find. The shores of Lake Galilee are decorated with Jacaranda and other lovely flowering shrubs. Palm trees are decorative and provide useful shade. Mustard is quite unassuming really. It is useful rather than beautiful, but its fruit is valuable spice.
Therefore it has potential. And that is why I would call it one of the ‘small things’ of God. If you think that small means insignificant, think of the fluw virus, or an atom in nuclear fusion. Small can hold guge potential, and anyone who looks beyond the immediate appearance to the potential in this seed, and who has confidence to plant it will be rewarded with a shrub, or tree that provides spices of value on the trade routes through the land, and also acts as shelter for nesting birds.
The previous words in the parable of the growing seed tell us that we don’t control the growth; that is in God’s hands. Even with all our scientific knowledge today not many of understand the mechanism by which a seed turns into a tree. We can describe photosynthesis, we can talk about osmosis, we can measure and chart and even watch growth on freeze frame photography, speeded up. We can sometimes determine optimum growing conditions, but we cannot make that plant grow. The potential to grow is inside it, a part of it, the part that is God given, the potential for life.
The mustard seed and the potential that it holds get another airing in the gospels. Do you remember Matthew 17:20?
"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
And that’s what it’s like with the Kingdom of God, that growth of God’s reign of justice and of peace here on earth. That’s what happened to the seed of faith that Jesus planted. They grew didn’t they?
Imagine each one of those disciples as a mustard seed. From a small number of poorly educated, mostly manual workers who knew they didn’t control much in Roman occupied Palestine, but depended on the bounty of God, to us sitting here today. Across languages and time, that seed has taken root and grown, in our lives and in the lives of others. To push the metaphor, that spice has flavoured our world.
What was true then is true now. Jesus looks in to our heart and sees our deepest need, for relationship with God, and he offers that to us. He sees our potential, and we only have to be prepared to let that seed of faith be planted in us, to be the good soil that receives and nurtures. We don’t need to force anything; we only need to ‘let go and let God’.
The continuity of our faith, sharing the good news of our salvation with others, isn’t something we need to be anxious about. Sometimes the gentle word, the small action, the life lived with integrity, demonstrates the power of the Holy Spirit in us far more than standing on a soapbox and shouting. (btw - if standing on a soapbox and shouting is your particular gift from God then please, don’t let anything I’ve said stop you.)
Maybe we can simply relax in prayer, leave space for God to work, provide stillness and quiet, or companionship. Maybe we can help a friend to find something they haven’t experiences before – perhaps the wonder of peas in a pod - a part of creation that is very good. Sometimes we can help to identify things to be thankful for – perhaps the joy of a smile that shows God’s plan for our relationships, maybe the satisfaction of a life well-lived. Sometimes we can simply be, when we are needed.
Why don’t we all make space this week to look for the small things of God, the little opportunities to plant our own unobtrusive mustard seeds, and then allow space for God to work; trust God to make them grow.
My children were born in towns, and lived a suburban early life. Much as I enjoy gardens, I am not a gardener, so my children spent their early years believing that peas came out of the freezer in a bag marked ‘Bejam.’ (Remember them?) That was, until a holiday visit to my parents on their retirement smallholding. Imagine the children’s surprise and wonder the first time they saw peas growing, and popped the pods to find the peas inside. If you know anything about children you will also understand that not many of those peas made it indoors; most were eaten in the field where they were picked.
Food production was closer to people’s daily experience in the days before Mr Clarence Birdseye patented plate freezing in 1930 to preserve that ‘sweet as the moment when the pod went pop’ taste.
The Greek word used in Mark’s gospel that describes Jesus’ trade was ‘tekton’, from which we get our modern word, technology. It is often translated as carpenter, but is more accurately a builder, a worker of stone, metal and wood. Modern scholarship and archaeology supports this, and suggests that Jesus probably grew up in Nazareth and worked with his father as a day labourer at the nearby very grand and wealthy Roman city of Sepphoris, 3 miles from Nazareth.
During his walk to and from work each day, Jesus would have had plenty of time to become familiar with the cycles of farming, both arable and stock, and of the fishermen.
It’s no surprise then that, after he leaves Nazareth and starts his ministry Jesus uses images of farming to speak to his followers on the shores of the Lake of Galilee. We know that Jesus was being watched by the local Pharisees and scribes, eager to avoid an insurrection. We can surmise that Romans would also have been interested in what was being said to a crowd, but stories of soil and seeds must have seemed quite boring.
We need to seek the meaning. The major issue that commentators have with all of Jesus’ parables is that the apparent simplicity can yield a number of ever more interesting ideas as the Holy Spirit leads us deeper into understanding of God’s word. In this case I’ll try to avoid going down too many rabbit holes!
In Chapter 4 of Marks gospel we have first, the parable of the soil, then a story about a seed growing, then the parable of the mustard seed. In the middle of these simple farming metaphors Jesus tells his followers (when they are in private) that, ‘that which is hidden is meant to be disclosed’. In other words, there is meaning in the stories that goes beyond the obvious top layer. They are meant to be looking for new meanings, as are we.
Firstly I’d like to say that the mustard plant is not the most attractive you will find. The shores of Lake Galilee are decorated with Jacaranda and other lovely flowering shrubs. Palm trees are decorative and provide useful shade. Mustard is quite unassuming really. It is useful rather than beautiful, but its fruit is valuable spice.
Therefore it has potential. And that is why I would call it one of the ‘small things’ of God. If you think that small means insignificant, think of the fluw virus, or an atom in nuclear fusion. Small can hold guge potential, and anyone who looks beyond the immediate appearance to the potential in this seed, and who has confidence to plant it will be rewarded with a shrub, or tree that provides spices of value on the trade routes through the land, and also acts as shelter for nesting birds.
The previous words in the parable of the growing seed tell us that we don’t control the growth; that is in God’s hands. Even with all our scientific knowledge today not many of understand the mechanism by which a seed turns into a tree. We can describe photosynthesis, we can talk about osmosis, we can measure and chart and even watch growth on freeze frame photography, speeded up. We can sometimes determine optimum growing conditions, but we cannot make that plant grow. The potential to grow is inside it, a part of it, the part that is God given, the potential for life.
The mustard seed and the potential that it holds get another airing in the gospels. Do you remember Matthew 17:20?
"I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you."
And that’s what it’s like with the Kingdom of God, that growth of God’s reign of justice and of peace here on earth. That’s what happened to the seed of faith that Jesus planted. They grew didn’t they?
Imagine each one of those disciples as a mustard seed. From a small number of poorly educated, mostly manual workers who knew they didn’t control much in Roman occupied Palestine, but depended on the bounty of God, to us sitting here today. Across languages and time, that seed has taken root and grown, in our lives and in the lives of others. To push the metaphor, that spice has flavoured our world.
What was true then is true now. Jesus looks in to our heart and sees our deepest need, for relationship with God, and he offers that to us. He sees our potential, and we only have to be prepared to let that seed of faith be planted in us, to be the good soil that receives and nurtures. We don’t need to force anything; we only need to ‘let go and let God’.
The continuity of our faith, sharing the good news of our salvation with others, isn’t something we need to be anxious about. Sometimes the gentle word, the small action, the life lived with integrity, demonstrates the power of the Holy Spirit in us far more than standing on a soapbox and shouting. (btw - if standing on a soapbox and shouting is your particular gift from God then please, don’t let anything I’ve said stop you.)
Maybe we can simply relax in prayer, leave space for God to work, provide stillness and quiet, or companionship. Maybe we can help a friend to find something they haven’t experiences before – perhaps the wonder of peas in a pod - a part of creation that is very good. Sometimes we can help to identify things to be thankful for – perhaps the joy of a smile that shows God’s plan for our relationships, maybe the satisfaction of a life well-lived. Sometimes we can simply be, when we are needed.
Why don’t we all make space this week to look for the small things of God, the little opportunities to plant our own unobtrusive mustard seeds, and then allow space for God to work; trust God to make them grow.
Sunday, 24 May 2009
Sermon: 24th May 2009 John 17:6-19
In the last few weeks I’ve noticed an increasing trend on Facebook. There have been a variety of quizzes for some time and people are encouraged to compare their results with their friends. But recently there has been an increase in the number of people inviting their friends to take a quiz called “How well do you know ?” I’ve also noticed that not many people score more than 50%, even for people they seem to know quite well.
There is a cry deep inside many of us that says, “You don’t know me”. We hear it voiced on the Jeremy Kyle show by angry young men and women whose lives are being offered up in simplistic terms to an audience hungry to judge, as they realise that the bald facts presented have led to them being censured. I wonder how many MPS, who are being criticised over their expenses, are sitting at home feeling the same thing, “But if you were in my shoes you might understand why…” Sometimes it’s hard to know others.
We sometimes feel misunderstood or undervalued, and when it happens with people we care about it can be a very painful experience.
That desire to be known (and the parallel fear that if we are really known we might turn out to be not worth knowing), is deep seated and drives a lot of our behaviour. If we are not known, how do we connect with people? If we feel no connection, how can we have empathy, how can we feel any sense of responsibility to others, for others, to our society?
Garrick Stevens spoke on Wednesday night about some of the local issues that we can pray for and maybe get involved in. One of these was ‘social cohesion’ and I’ve been thinking more about that. We live in a beautiful part of the country, and the people around here are generally very pleasant and easy to like and yet there is still a sense of alienation that shows up in anti-social behaviour. Anti-social = against society.
Two headlines from the local paper this week caught my eye.
1. Sunnyside Rural Trust have planted flowers in various public places, as part of their programme of work with adults with learning difficulties. Over the past few weeks thieves have uprooted shrubs from flower beds along Berkhamsted High Street and spoiled their work. Previously their storage shed was broken into and the intruders not only stole equipment but also cut up electric cables.
2. In a similar incident people attending the Tring Canal Festival have had tools stolen from their shed, and cars broken into and vandalised.
We might shake our heads at such wanton destruction, but my question remains – why do people feel so alienated, disconnected (possibly rejected?) from our society that they do this? What happens to people that they can only assuage their own loneliness and negative feelings by damaging others – a kind of warped competitiveness where the one who can cause the most hurt wins? Actually I have known people who argue like that!
I don’t fully understand the problem, and I wouldn’t claim to know the answers either, but I have a suspicion that feeling part of a community relates to being known, recognised and valued. That is what we are, or should be, here.
As Christians we have the community and the cohesion that appeals to those deep needs in so many people. A warning: this absolutely isn’t about climbing closely into a holy huddle of niceness and excluding other people. We are not an exclusive faith; in fact we are commanded to be inclusive, to go out, to find people and welcome them in to join us. What is our USP? (Unique Selling Point)
It is the love of God. When I speak of love I don’t mean simply an emotional feeling that is warm and fuzzy and makes colours look brighter and birds sing sweeter, that blinds us to all ugliness… and tends to wear off after a while… and which, according to the Daily Mail, some men feel is a bit too cuddly for church. “Can we sing more macho hymns please and stop all this soppy stuff?”
I mean the love of God for us, the love of God in us, and the love of God that we can share with other people. I mean the tough love that holds us all when we fail, and forgives us when we repent, and still asks us to aim for the gold-standard. The tough love that meant Jesus actually went to the cross for us, and did it out of practical care and a heart that holds every one of us as dearly beloved.
Today’s reading relates to the prayer that Jesus prayed just before his arrest. It is sandwiched between Jesus’ prayer for himself, “I glorified you on earth by completing the work you gave me to do”, and his prayer for all of us who would come to faith after his death as a result of his work. His prayer is for his disciples, his beloved friends. Just look at what he prays,
v9 I pray for them
v11 protect them by the power of your name
v11 so that they may be one as we are one
v13 that they may have full measure of my joy within them
v15 that you protect them
Protection, unity, joy.
Keep them safe; give them joy, let them be one.
These are people that he loves, so much that he sees them as one in his relationship with God the Father. Look what he says he has done for them,
V12 I protected them and kept them safe
v14 I have given them your word
Jesus is entrusting his disciples to God’s care now that he can no longer be with them but he is doing it knowing that he has already taught them what they need to know to maintain joy and unity in their relationship, and that they are one with him. And they did, didn’t they? Every one of us here today is the result of the Church passing on that teaching through the generations and the centuries.
These disciples became the Church, the Church of the Living God, following Christ. Not as one man wrote, “a voluntary association of religiously inclined humans.” Jesus is praying for the Church, and his prayer is as true today as it was then. He asks God to take care of his beloved friends. The good news for us is that we are also one with Jesus through our faith in him; therefore we are one with God – Father Son and Holy Spirit. And God, who knows everything there is to know about us, good and bad, still loves us. We can ignore it or accept it, but we can’t change it. God knows us and God loves us; we are the beloved friends, and God cares for us.
One of the more moving songs that I found when I first became a Christian was “I’m accepted, I’m forgiven, I am loved by the true and living God.” Yes, even me. And you. And him. And her. All of us.
Sometimes though it doesn’t feel like that, does it? Don’t you sometimes find other people, even in the church community a bit, maybe just a bit, well, difficult? Especially when they don’t agree with everything we think, or want to do things differently. I wonder how much of that is that we haven’t processed the idea that we are all different because we are meant to be different – like tools in a toolbox – what is the point in having two hammers the same if you haven’t got a screwdriver? We have different abilities, gifts, talents, skills, and that’s the way it is supposed to be. We can do different things and we have been equipped for different purposes, but all, to work for the glory of God. Imagine the leaves on a tree. Each one is in a different place; each connected to a twig, each twig connected to a branch, but all are rooted in the same tree.
Our difficulties arise when we think that someone else is valued more than we are. Jesus’ disciples also had their differences, including an argument about who is most important, but yet Jesus asks, “that they may be one as we are one.” We know that there were disagreements after Jesus died; the Council of Jerusalem is a key example in Acts, and we know that there have been schisms and divisions and arguments about what is right throughout history. Even in this town the people of God meet in different buildings and worship in different ways, and have slightly different understandings of what it means to be an authentic Christian. So does this mean that we are not united? I don’t think so.
I would say we are united if we abide in Christ, just as the Church across the world is united in Christ. I think we are united in essence and recognise our differences in detail, some of which matter greatly, some less so.
This week I was fortunate enough to visit the Coptic Church in Stevenage, and to hear presentations from Bishop Angaelos, the head of the Coptic Church in the UK, (who then had to leave to attend the enthronement of the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Westminster - how’s that for an ecumenical meeting?); and also their vicar, Father Abraham Thomas, from the Indian Orthodox church in Kerala. The key message that came out of this visit was that we do have differences, but what unites us is far greater, and much more important. I won’t go into all the details, but I’d like to share one thing I learned. Some of you will already know this.
Father Abraham Thomas greeted us with ‘Namaste’, which he said means, ‘I honour the image of God in you’. The reply is, of course, ‘Namaste’.
Think about what that means; every one of us carries that image of God in us, and every one of us is known and loved by God. I wonder if that deep ‘knowing’, and the recognition of the divine in each person; the gift that Jesus gave to so many people that he met, is one of the major reasons people followed him? Imagine what it must have felt like to meet that gaze.
When we truly accept the prayer that Jesus prayed for us, “they are yours. All I have is yours, and all you have is mine” it puts everything else into a different perspective.
If we accept that, then we have no option but to look for ways to share it with others, in all the places that we inhabit – home, work, leisure, with family, friend and stranger. We can look for that image of God in everyone we meet, and we can help them to find that image of God in themselves. And each one of us will do it in a different way. I don’t think there is one-size-fits-all approach to evangelism. Some of us are predominantly talkers, some are listeners, some are servants and so on; all of us are all of these things in different degrees, and each one of us is unique. We are all, however, joined in lively, vibrant faith, in unity with Christ.
For better or worse, for all the minor irritations, for all the differences in interpretation of doctrine, we are brothers and sisters – we are the ones who are united, we are the cohesive group, and we can model that to others in our society, and invite them to come in. We can share that love and care for others. Jesus’ prayer is for us; we are loved by God and we are in God’s care.
We can’t say to God, “You don’t know me”. If God answered our Facebook quiz, the score would be 100%, every time, for every one of us. Which one of us, when we read the words, “I pray… for those you have given me, for they are yours” can feel anything but special, accepted, loved, known. And out of that, which one of us doesn’t want to share that with other?
There is a cry deep inside many of us that says, “You don’t know me”. We hear it voiced on the Jeremy Kyle show by angry young men and women whose lives are being offered up in simplistic terms to an audience hungry to judge, as they realise that the bald facts presented have led to them being censured. I wonder how many MPS, who are being criticised over their expenses, are sitting at home feeling the same thing, “But if you were in my shoes you might understand why…” Sometimes it’s hard to know others.
We sometimes feel misunderstood or undervalued, and when it happens with people we care about it can be a very painful experience.
That desire to be known (and the parallel fear that if we are really known we might turn out to be not worth knowing), is deep seated and drives a lot of our behaviour. If we are not known, how do we connect with people? If we feel no connection, how can we have empathy, how can we feel any sense of responsibility to others, for others, to our society?
Garrick Stevens spoke on Wednesday night about some of the local issues that we can pray for and maybe get involved in. One of these was ‘social cohesion’ and I’ve been thinking more about that. We live in a beautiful part of the country, and the people around here are generally very pleasant and easy to like and yet there is still a sense of alienation that shows up in anti-social behaviour. Anti-social = against society.
Two headlines from the local paper this week caught my eye.
1. Sunnyside Rural Trust have planted flowers in various public places, as part of their programme of work with adults with learning difficulties. Over the past few weeks thieves have uprooted shrubs from flower beds along Berkhamsted High Street and spoiled their work. Previously their storage shed was broken into and the intruders not only stole equipment but also cut up electric cables.
2. In a similar incident people attending the Tring Canal Festival have had tools stolen from their shed, and cars broken into and vandalised.
We might shake our heads at such wanton destruction, but my question remains – why do people feel so alienated, disconnected (possibly rejected?) from our society that they do this? What happens to people that they can only assuage their own loneliness and negative feelings by damaging others – a kind of warped competitiveness where the one who can cause the most hurt wins? Actually I have known people who argue like that!
I don’t fully understand the problem, and I wouldn’t claim to know the answers either, but I have a suspicion that feeling part of a community relates to being known, recognised and valued. That is what we are, or should be, here.
As Christians we have the community and the cohesion that appeals to those deep needs in so many people. A warning: this absolutely isn’t about climbing closely into a holy huddle of niceness and excluding other people. We are not an exclusive faith; in fact we are commanded to be inclusive, to go out, to find people and welcome them in to join us. What is our USP? (Unique Selling Point)
It is the love of God. When I speak of love I don’t mean simply an emotional feeling that is warm and fuzzy and makes colours look brighter and birds sing sweeter, that blinds us to all ugliness… and tends to wear off after a while… and which, according to the Daily Mail, some men feel is a bit too cuddly for church. “Can we sing more macho hymns please and stop all this soppy stuff?”
I mean the love of God for us, the love of God in us, and the love of God that we can share with other people. I mean the tough love that holds us all when we fail, and forgives us when we repent, and still asks us to aim for the gold-standard. The tough love that meant Jesus actually went to the cross for us, and did it out of practical care and a heart that holds every one of us as dearly beloved.
Today’s reading relates to the prayer that Jesus prayed just before his arrest. It is sandwiched between Jesus’ prayer for himself, “I glorified you on earth by completing the work you gave me to do”, and his prayer for all of us who would come to faith after his death as a result of his work. His prayer is for his disciples, his beloved friends. Just look at what he prays,
v9 I pray for them
v11 protect them by the power of your name
v11 so that they may be one as we are one
v13 that they may have full measure of my joy within them
v15 that you protect them
Protection, unity, joy.
Keep them safe; give them joy, let them be one.
These are people that he loves, so much that he sees them as one in his relationship with God the Father. Look what he says he has done for them,
V12 I protected them and kept them safe
v14 I have given them your word
Jesus is entrusting his disciples to God’s care now that he can no longer be with them but he is doing it knowing that he has already taught them what they need to know to maintain joy and unity in their relationship, and that they are one with him. And they did, didn’t they? Every one of us here today is the result of the Church passing on that teaching through the generations and the centuries.
These disciples became the Church, the Church of the Living God, following Christ. Not as one man wrote, “a voluntary association of religiously inclined humans.” Jesus is praying for the Church, and his prayer is as true today as it was then. He asks God to take care of his beloved friends. The good news for us is that we are also one with Jesus through our faith in him; therefore we are one with God – Father Son and Holy Spirit. And God, who knows everything there is to know about us, good and bad, still loves us. We can ignore it or accept it, but we can’t change it. God knows us and God loves us; we are the beloved friends, and God cares for us.
One of the more moving songs that I found when I first became a Christian was “I’m accepted, I’m forgiven, I am loved by the true and living God.” Yes, even me. And you. And him. And her. All of us.
Sometimes though it doesn’t feel like that, does it? Don’t you sometimes find other people, even in the church community a bit, maybe just a bit, well, difficult? Especially when they don’t agree with everything we think, or want to do things differently. I wonder how much of that is that we haven’t processed the idea that we are all different because we are meant to be different – like tools in a toolbox – what is the point in having two hammers the same if you haven’t got a screwdriver? We have different abilities, gifts, talents, skills, and that’s the way it is supposed to be. We can do different things and we have been equipped for different purposes, but all, to work for the glory of God. Imagine the leaves on a tree. Each one is in a different place; each connected to a twig, each twig connected to a branch, but all are rooted in the same tree.
Our difficulties arise when we think that someone else is valued more than we are. Jesus’ disciples also had their differences, including an argument about who is most important, but yet Jesus asks, “that they may be one as we are one.” We know that there were disagreements after Jesus died; the Council of Jerusalem is a key example in Acts, and we know that there have been schisms and divisions and arguments about what is right throughout history. Even in this town the people of God meet in different buildings and worship in different ways, and have slightly different understandings of what it means to be an authentic Christian. So does this mean that we are not united? I don’t think so.
I would say we are united if we abide in Christ, just as the Church across the world is united in Christ. I think we are united in essence and recognise our differences in detail, some of which matter greatly, some less so.
This week I was fortunate enough to visit the Coptic Church in Stevenage, and to hear presentations from Bishop Angaelos, the head of the Coptic Church in the UK, (who then had to leave to attend the enthronement of the Roman Catholic Archbishop of Westminster - how’s that for an ecumenical meeting?); and also their vicar, Father Abraham Thomas, from the Indian Orthodox church in Kerala. The key message that came out of this visit was that we do have differences, but what unites us is far greater, and much more important. I won’t go into all the details, but I’d like to share one thing I learned. Some of you will already know this.
Father Abraham Thomas greeted us with ‘Namaste’, which he said means, ‘I honour the image of God in you’. The reply is, of course, ‘Namaste’.
Think about what that means; every one of us carries that image of God in us, and every one of us is known and loved by God. I wonder if that deep ‘knowing’, and the recognition of the divine in each person; the gift that Jesus gave to so many people that he met, is one of the major reasons people followed him? Imagine what it must have felt like to meet that gaze.
When we truly accept the prayer that Jesus prayed for us, “they are yours. All I have is yours, and all you have is mine” it puts everything else into a different perspective.
If we accept that, then we have no option but to look for ways to share it with others, in all the places that we inhabit – home, work, leisure, with family, friend and stranger. We can look for that image of God in everyone we meet, and we can help them to find that image of God in themselves. And each one of us will do it in a different way. I don’t think there is one-size-fits-all approach to evangelism. Some of us are predominantly talkers, some are listeners, some are servants and so on; all of us are all of these things in different degrees, and each one of us is unique. We are all, however, joined in lively, vibrant faith, in unity with Christ.
For better or worse, for all the minor irritations, for all the differences in interpretation of doctrine, we are brothers and sisters – we are the ones who are united, we are the cohesive group, and we can model that to others in our society, and invite them to come in. We can share that love and care for others. Jesus’ prayer is for us; we are loved by God and we are in God’s care.
We can’t say to God, “You don’t know me”. If God answered our Facebook quiz, the score would be 100%, every time, for every one of us. Which one of us, when we read the words, “I pray… for those you have given me, for they are yours” can feel anything but special, accepted, loved, known. And out of that, which one of us doesn’t want to share that with other?
Saturday, 25 April 2009
Sermon: Low Sunday 2009
Good morning. David is on holiday, Dick has a much-deserved day off from leading and preaching, Heidi and the usual musicians are absent, and today is called Low Sunday. It’s the week after Easter and it is called either ‘Low Sunday’ – often referring to the low that we feel after the celebration of Easter Day, or ‘Thomas Sunday’ because someone, usually a Reader, has to preach ‘yet again’ on Thomas and doubt.
Whichever way we look at it, this Sunday has a much lower profile than last Sunday. And yet it reinforces some very important truths, and reminds us of Jesus’ gift to us, our own free will and the choices we make.
How does this work in our readings?
Does anyone remember the opening sequence to the Star Wars films, where the words rolled past, and it looked as if we were being told the whole story before the film had even started? This morning’s readings are a bit like that for me, because so much happens in such a short space of time that we are in danger of missing it. Certainly we can’t explore everything in one go.
We’ve heard three stories this morning, and if we look at them in the order in which they happened then we see:
Jesus appears in the middle of a locked room, shows his disciples that he is alive, but still wounded and offers peace. He then sends them out in the power of the Holy Spirit and, breathing on them, gives them the authority, within their relationship with him, to forgive others. This is the ‘handover’ moment, a fore-runner of Pentecost, when believers are empowered to be church together.
In the second story Jesus appears again to Thomas – it’s a kind of mopping up operation, the same story again, but this time aimed mainly at Thomas, who wasn’t there the in the first story. Again Jesus appears in a locked room; again he shows that he is alive but still wounded, and offers peace, but this time he commands that we believe. This time there is a response that recognises his Lordship, and this time Jesus promises blessing both to those present, and also to everyone who believes. Because, after that time, the Church will include people who didn’t actually know Jesus personally, when he was on earth – just like you and me.
In the third story, from Acts, we can see that all the believers were united. They shared, they supported each other and they testified to other people about Jesus’ resurrection. They were being Church in the way that Jesus modelled for them, sharing and acting in unity.
For every choice there is a response. The disciples responded to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus with faith, and because of that faith they became one with Christ and were changed. That change led them to action; to behave differently, and we see that demonstrated in the reading of Acts, which shows the development of the early church. The believers shared their possessions and they acted together in unity.
How might that work in our lives?
Let’s start with Easter. We have the Good News. Jesus Christ is risen indeed. To which our reply, from wherever we are, is Hallelujah,.
Sometimes that can be difficult, as can our reading from Acts. We’d like to feel happy and celebratory, and we’d like to be in unity with everyone in the church and feel that we all have one mind and that everything is comfortable and cosy. But I do recognise that it isn’t always like that.
Dick has led two funerals this week. A child we have been praying for has died after a long illness, and people at this church have been affected by that. Other people are worried about their jobs, about illness and conflict in their families, about wars and injustice, and political unrest, and all sorts of things that we can’t control. We are all wounded in different ways. And we are being asked by the people who created the Easter liturgy – the words we use in our services - to say ‘Praise the Lord’ - ‘Hallelujah”? We are being asked to worship God, to celebrate Jesus appearing to his disciples. Maybe we just don’t feel like it.
But… and there is always a but, I’ve found that the times that I have been able to laugh most, to experience the greatest joy of life, even sometimes to worship in the most meaningful way, have been when other parts of my life seem darkest.
Laughter and worship and joy are points on a scale, and there is something about knowing the heights that makes the depths so deep, and vice versa. One of the great benefits of team-work, of community, of being in unity, is that someone else can do what I can’t. If I find myself unable to worship and praise, then maybe someone else can worship on my behalf. (Priesthood of believers) Rather like the believers, if I can’t feed myself, maybe someone else can – in this case in worship.
The other point about saying Hallelujah when it is difficult is that it helps us to see our own problems in perspective. There are things in my life that I wish were different, that I would change if I could, but which I just have to leave with God. I pray about them, sometimes I shed tears about them, but ultimately no amount of angst or worry on my part can make any difference, so I have to give it to God in prayer, and I choose to worship God in the desert paces as well as on the heights of the mountain..
That is my choice, and today is partly about choices and consequences.
Jesus chose to go to the cross, and when he returned he asked us to choose – to believe in him and to carry on his work. He comes out of the closed tomb, and into the locked room of our hearts to share his risen life with us. He understands our fear, and shares our wounds. He brings us his forgiveness and peace; he breathes the Holy Spirit into our lives. And then he waits for our response. We can choose to make no response, in which case we are stuck in disbelief and nothing happens. Or we can choose faith; faith that results in becoming a member of this priesthood of believers, faith which results in action, and is defined by our relationship of sharing with God and other Christians, a relationship of unity.
Finally, I must mention Thomas – if only because David said last Sunday that all preachers except David use today’s texts to preach about Thomas and doubt rather than about the start of the church.
We often refer to Thomas ‘Doubting Thomas’ because we interpret his statement, “Unless I see… I will not believe” as doubt. We warm to this story because it reminds us of our own questions – questions we can seek answers to if we have faith as our bedrock. In fact a more accurate translation of the words that we read as “Stop doubting and believe” is “do not be disbelieving but believe.” Thomas is asking for the same evidence that the other disciples have already had so that he can believe.
The background to this slide is a beautiful picture, by Caravaggio, of Thomas, placing his finger in the wound in Christ’s side, just before he makes the definitive statement of faith, “My Lord and my God,”
Thomas’ answer confirms what we believe, that Jesus Christ is resurrected, cannot die again, and that we who believe, even though we haven’t seen, are blessed. Our faith changes us and we act differently, we love as Jesus did, and that means that we are able to share our lives with others in the unity of Christ.
Jesus Christ is risen indeed. To which our reply, from wherever we are, is Hallelujah.
Whichever way we look at it, this Sunday has a much lower profile than last Sunday. And yet it reinforces some very important truths, and reminds us of Jesus’ gift to us, our own free will and the choices we make.
How does this work in our readings?
Does anyone remember the opening sequence to the Star Wars films, where the words rolled past, and it looked as if we were being told the whole story before the film had even started? This morning’s readings are a bit like that for me, because so much happens in such a short space of time that we are in danger of missing it. Certainly we can’t explore everything in one go.
We’ve heard three stories this morning, and if we look at them in the order in which they happened then we see:
Jesus appears in the middle of a locked room, shows his disciples that he is alive, but still wounded and offers peace. He then sends them out in the power of the Holy Spirit and, breathing on them, gives them the authority, within their relationship with him, to forgive others. This is the ‘handover’ moment, a fore-runner of Pentecost, when believers are empowered to be church together.
In the second story Jesus appears again to Thomas – it’s a kind of mopping up operation, the same story again, but this time aimed mainly at Thomas, who wasn’t there the in the first story. Again Jesus appears in a locked room; again he shows that he is alive but still wounded, and offers peace, but this time he commands that we believe. This time there is a response that recognises his Lordship, and this time Jesus promises blessing both to those present, and also to everyone who believes. Because, after that time, the Church will include people who didn’t actually know Jesus personally, when he was on earth – just like you and me.
In the third story, from Acts, we can see that all the believers were united. They shared, they supported each other and they testified to other people about Jesus’ resurrection. They were being Church in the way that Jesus modelled for them, sharing and acting in unity.
For every choice there is a response. The disciples responded to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus with faith, and because of that faith they became one with Christ and were changed. That change led them to action; to behave differently, and we see that demonstrated in the reading of Acts, which shows the development of the early church. The believers shared their possessions and they acted together in unity.
How might that work in our lives?
Let’s start with Easter. We have the Good News. Jesus Christ is risen indeed. To which our reply, from wherever we are, is Hallelujah,.
Sometimes that can be difficult, as can our reading from Acts. We’d like to feel happy and celebratory, and we’d like to be in unity with everyone in the church and feel that we all have one mind and that everything is comfortable and cosy. But I do recognise that it isn’t always like that.
Dick has led two funerals this week. A child we have been praying for has died after a long illness, and people at this church have been affected by that. Other people are worried about their jobs, about illness and conflict in their families, about wars and injustice, and political unrest, and all sorts of things that we can’t control. We are all wounded in different ways. And we are being asked by the people who created the Easter liturgy – the words we use in our services - to say ‘Praise the Lord’ - ‘Hallelujah”? We are being asked to worship God, to celebrate Jesus appearing to his disciples. Maybe we just don’t feel like it.
But… and there is always a but, I’ve found that the times that I have been able to laugh most, to experience the greatest joy of life, even sometimes to worship in the most meaningful way, have been when other parts of my life seem darkest.
Laughter and worship and joy are points on a scale, and there is something about knowing the heights that makes the depths so deep, and vice versa. One of the great benefits of team-work, of community, of being in unity, is that someone else can do what I can’t. If I find myself unable to worship and praise, then maybe someone else can worship on my behalf. (Priesthood of believers) Rather like the believers, if I can’t feed myself, maybe someone else can – in this case in worship.
The other point about saying Hallelujah when it is difficult is that it helps us to see our own problems in perspective. There are things in my life that I wish were different, that I would change if I could, but which I just have to leave with God. I pray about them, sometimes I shed tears about them, but ultimately no amount of angst or worry on my part can make any difference, so I have to give it to God in prayer, and I choose to worship God in the desert paces as well as on the heights of the mountain..
That is my choice, and today is partly about choices and consequences.
Jesus chose to go to the cross, and when he returned he asked us to choose – to believe in him and to carry on his work. He comes out of the closed tomb, and into the locked room of our hearts to share his risen life with us. He understands our fear, and shares our wounds. He brings us his forgiveness and peace; he breathes the Holy Spirit into our lives. And then he waits for our response. We can choose to make no response, in which case we are stuck in disbelief and nothing happens. Or we can choose faith; faith that results in becoming a member of this priesthood of believers, faith which results in action, and is defined by our relationship of sharing with God and other Christians, a relationship of unity.
Finally, I must mention Thomas – if only because David said last Sunday that all preachers except David use today’s texts to preach about Thomas and doubt rather than about the start of the church.
We often refer to Thomas ‘Doubting Thomas’ because we interpret his statement, “Unless I see… I will not believe” as doubt. We warm to this story because it reminds us of our own questions – questions we can seek answers to if we have faith as our bedrock. In fact a more accurate translation of the words that we read as “Stop doubting and believe” is “do not be disbelieving but believe.” Thomas is asking for the same evidence that the other disciples have already had so that he can believe.
The background to this slide is a beautiful picture, by Caravaggio, of Thomas, placing his finger in the wound in Christ’s side, just before he makes the definitive statement of faith, “My Lord and my God,”
Thomas’ answer confirms what we believe, that Jesus Christ is resurrected, cannot die again, and that we who believe, even though we haven’t seen, are blessed. Our faith changes us and we act differently, we love as Jesus did, and that means that we are able to share our lives with others in the unity of Christ.
Jesus Christ is risen indeed. To which our reply, from wherever we are, is Hallelujah.
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