Presentation of Christ in the Temple

Forty days ago, on the first day of Christmas, we celebrated the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. Forty days later, on the last day of Christmas (2nd February or the nearest Sunday) we remember the Presentation of Christ in the Temple. This is one of the oldest celebrations that the church has; the first reports of the service go back to before we had a completed Canon of Scripture.


In July 1979 I experienced a (relatively) modern equivalent of this when my own daughter was born. My friend Elaine gave birth to her first child - a boy - a few days before, and she named him Leo.  On the eighth day when he was circumcised at home by the local rabbi I suddenly realised she was jewish - it hadn't been a topic of conversation previously.  Later she and her husband took the baby to the synagogue and presented him – at the same time paying a sum of money to the rabbi – to redeem Leo, their first-born son.

Link to Passover

The link here is to the original Passover, when during the final plague which God brought upon Egypt, all the first-born of Egypt died, whereas when the first-born son of each Hebrew family was saved from death. Therefore, the children spared by God belonged to him, and had to be redeemed. Exodus 13:2

“Consecrate to me every firstborn male. The first offspring of every womb among the Israelites belongs to me, whether man or animal.”

When an Israelite family redeemed their first-born son, they were acknowledging that this child belonged to God. So in an earlier version of my friend’s story, Jesus was brought to the Temple by his parents, obeying the law, and presented to God and the people.

Faithfulness – old/young,male/female

Joseph and Mary, relatively young, newly-wed, at the start of their life together, met Anna and Simeon, an older woman and – we presume - an older man. These four people had their faithfulness in common – they all listened to the voice of God, and followed the leading of the Holy Spirit.

Simeon, righteous and devout, had been led by the Holy Spirit to the temple that day. Anna had been a faithful worshipper, steeped in prayer in the temple, for eighty four yearsand was recognised as a prophetess.

Mary and Joseph had both listened to God and obeyed God’s word – they were keeping to the law. Simeon and Anna were faithful older people and I think Luke is showing us that this baby, this Messiah, was for everyone with faith, old and young.

Tribes

There’s an interesting little snippet of information between the lines here, for those early readers. Simeon is the name of one of the tribes of Israel, that by this time had been mostly assimilated into the tribe of Judah, an we are told that Anna was from another of the twelve tribes - the tribe of Asher – which by then was only a remnant itself, and had been assimilated into the northern kingdom by the Assyrians 700 years before.

So reading between the lines, this message of salvation is not just for men and women, for the old and the young, but for all the tribes of Israel, and it doesn’t stop there. Our readings today confirm that the message is for all Abrahams descendents, and also ‘a light for revelation to the Gentiles’ (us).

Psalm 24

Think for a moment about the parts of the story we have heard today in our various Scripture readings. Imagine what it must have been like for all those years to be part of a people yearning, praying, longing for the day of the Messiah. We’ve heard Psalm 24 today,

“The earth is the LORD's, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it; for he founded it upon the seas and established it upon the waters”

Imagine this psalm being sung in the temple. A song from those who are waiting for their Saviour? It expresses the longing of a people for God to bring justice and righteousness in place of the evils of this world.

“Who may ascend the hill of the LORD ? Who may stand in his holy place? He who has clean hands and a pure heart, who does not lift up his soul to an idol or swear by what is false”

Anna and Simeon were just such people, we know they were faithful, we know that they were waiting for the Lord to arrive, for the words of the psalm to be fulfilled,

“Lift up your heads, O you gates; lift them up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in”

Malachi

What must it have felt like to see the fulfilment of the prophecy in Malachi 3,

“suddenly the Lord you are seeking will come to his temple; the messenger of the covenant, whom you desire, will come,”

With its accompanying promises of righteousness restored, no wonder Simeon and Anna were filled with praise when they saw the baby Jesus, the vulnerable, helpless human infant.

Psalm 24 asks us “Who is he, this King of glory?” and answers itself, “The LORD Almighty - he is the King of glory”

Hebrews

And yet, our Hebrews reading confirms the other side of the story, that Jesus shared in our humanity,

“made like his brothers in every way, in order that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that he might make atonement for the sins of the people. Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted”

Jesus came to save us, as Hebrews tell us,

“surely it is not angels he helps, but Abraham's descendants”

Nunc Dimmitis

So, a baby, fully God and fully human is carried into the temple, and Simeon cannot help but praise the Lord, in a song that we still use regularly in our daily worship because it applies to us as well – to every one of us that opens our eyes to see the light of the world,

“"Sovereign Lord, as you have promised, you now dismiss your servant in peace. For my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the sight of all people, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel." ”

That light, for revelation to the Gentiles (us), is the reason why we light a candle today[single candle] – to remind ourselves that our eyes too have seen salvation, that Jesus is the light for revelation to the Gentiles. So today, we light a candle as a symbol of light that Jesus offers, to show us the way, to shine into the dark places in our lives, to show us what needs to be cleaned up, and to show us how to grow I love and unity as church.

In their old age Simeon and Anna recognized him as their Lord,

These two old people, so faithful in prayer, so open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, as so many of our own older people are, are rewarded by seeing Jesus, and recognising Jesus as their Lord. No wonder they are celebrating. Wouldn’t you?

But, in the midst of the joy, as I said at the beginning, we end our Christmas celebrations with a hint of Easter. Simeon has a word of knowledge to share as he tells Mary, “A sword will pierce your soul too” and we get a sudden foretaste of the Passion to come.

But for today, we too can share the joy of Mary, Joseph, Simeon and Anna, who have recognised that God’s light has come into the world and say, with Simeon, “My eyes have seen your salvation”

An extension to the sermon?

Thank you to clayboy

...when this is placed beside the fact that much of this material is actually “horizontal” – telling the praying person what to think – rather than “vertical” – helping the worshipper address God, it increasingly becomes an extension of the sermon by other means...  read the rest here

Who remembers Boney M?

Who remembers Boney M? OK, so you won't admit to it, but I'm guessing that some do. I've bopped around the kitchen to the song, ""By the rivers of Babylon" without ever really considering the meaning of the words. I think that in 1978 I knew the words came from the bible, but not much more.  Let's see if you can sing along.



If anyone had told me that this song had great meaning for Jamaicans; that for some it was a reflection on their Hebrew history and on slavery, I would have been very puzzled. To an extent I still am. Because I don't carry a familial memory of slavery,and therefore my first point of contact with this Psalm was from a different perspective - that of anger and revenge.  But let's look, firstly at the words of the Psalm itself.

Psalm 137 (NRSV)

1By the rivers of Babylon— there we sat down and there we wept when we remembered Zion.
2On the willows there we hung up our harps.
3For there our captors asked us for songs, and our tormentors asked for mirth, saying, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”
4How could we sing the Lord’s song in a foreign land?
5If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!
6Let my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth, if I do not remember you, if I do not set Jerusalem above my highest joy.
7Remember, O Lord, against the Edomites the day of Jerusalem’s fall, how they said, “Tear it down! Tear it down! Down to its foundations!”
8O daughter Babylon, you devastator! Happy shall they be who pay you back what you have done to us!
9Happy shall they be who take your little ones and dash them against the rock!

Here is the Jamaican version:



I think it's quite interesting that the songwriters have taken the first part of the Psalm, then added the prayer "may the words of our mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in thy sight here tonight".  Were they asking God to accept their lament?  Or were they sanitising this Psalm to miss out the nasty bits at the end?

This Psalm tells us how it feels to be defeated; how it feels to have fought and lost; to have seen killing and unspeakable cruelty, to thirst for revenge of the same kind. It tells us what it is like to be that bird in a gilded cage, and to be asked to sing for the amusement of others - to deny or hide one's own feelings for expediency; to be ridiculed and tormented, and expected to forget your own culture and assimilate with something that seems barbarous to you.  Babylon was a modern city in the desert with running water, lush with trees and rivers, and apparently impregnable. It was luxurious, but there was no temple in Babylon - the temple was in Jerusalem, and the inhabitants of Babylon worshipped other gods.

This isn't simply the story of people in the 6th century BCE; it is the story of all displaced peoples today, of those in slavery, of those who cannot live in the place they call home, of those who feel required to perform against their nature for others in business - for everyone who finds themselves in a 'foreign land', physically or emotionally.

We hear the lament of a dispossessed people; suffering the shock and trauma of discovering that the covenant that they thought would protect them as God's chosen people forever, did not stop the enemy from entering the holy of holies and carrying off the treasure from the temple, or themselves to slavery in a foreign land. The lament is deep and poignant. Their despair echoes through the centuries and sounds chords in us.

Let's look at the two key topics of the Psalm.

Firstly, the idea that God can't be worshipped from the ‘foreign land’, from where we are.

God's glory and majesty was believed to be centred in the holy of holies, in the temple in Jerusalem. That was where people joined together to worship, as God's chosen, special, covenanted people. Yet, when they were dispersed, did God remain in the temple, away from them? We know they thought they were being punished for not upholding their side of the covenant... and we know they found hope again - hope that was fulfilled.

14Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem! 15The Lord has taken away the judgments against you, he has turned away your enemies. The king of Israel, the Lord, is in your midst; you shall fear disaster no more. 16On that day it shall be said to Jerusalem: Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak. 17The Lord, your God, is in your midst, a warrior who gives victory; he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing 18as on a day of festival. I will remove disaster from you, so that you will not bear reproach for it. 19I will deal with all your oppressors at that time. And I will save the lame and gather the outcast, and I will change their shame into praise and renown in all the earth. 20At that time I will bring you home, at the time when I gather you; for I will make you renowned and praised among all the peoples of the earth, when I restore your fortunes before your eyes, says the Lord. Zepahaniah 3:14-20 NRSV

This wasn't the only time that the people were separated from the centre of worship in the temple at Jerusalem - the Jewish people still are. We don't know the details of the whole process; how they moved through disbelief and grief to acceptance and new patterns of behaviour, but we know that the Hebrew people retained their history, their faith in God even when they thought God had turned away from them, and their covenant identity, while dreaming of worshipping again at Jersualem.

How did they discover that God hadn't turned his face against them, or remained in the temple alone and unworshipped, but was with them in exile, walking with them through the pain and darkness? Did they find other truths about suffering and recovery to sing as they journeyed?  What did that experience of growing in understanding of God do for their faith?

Do we sometimes think of God as distant? How does is change our prayers when we think about Jesus suffering and walking with us? Can we think of times when we have found God in unexpected places? That's a whole set of ideas to explore, and the experience of 'misplacing' our connection with God is one that many of us have been through. For a lot of us that isn't a permanent state, but the experience of coming through it can be liberating and faith deepening.

The second main theme here is the wish for revenge. It seems to be programmed into us as a default; even when I banged my head this week, my initial response was shock and anger that lasted for a few seconds while I worked out how badly hurt I was (not very!)

The last words of this Psalm speak of the fury of the helpless, of those who have witnessed horror, and who want to turn that shocked energy back in hatred.

We know that rage is a normal response as a part of the process of dealing with shock and grief. It is totally understandable, and many of us can identify with the feelings expressed, even though we might shy away from them. I think we should read these, recognise their raw honesty, and notice that these are words used in worship.

Lament is worship – it is about bringing our whole selves before God, just as we are, recognising the truth of our condition. When we have moved on, as our faith has, through Jesus and his teaching of love and forgiveness, then we can look back and say, ‘Yes, we have moved on, our relationships are different now, God has been faithful and has worked with us’. That’s a valuable lesson for all of us next time we are in pain.

We know that revenge is part of a cycle of destruction that rejects forgiveness, seeks retribution - to 'get even' - as if anyone can ever restore their loss by hurting someone else as they have been hurt. Pain can be exponential - Mahatma Ghandi said, "An eye for an eye and soon the whole world is blind"

Yet, there is another way; trauma can be healed - even in places like Rwanda today there is reconciliation. It’s a message that the peacemakers of the world are taking to troubled nations, and it’s one we need to apply in our own lives. Jesus commanded us to love one another, to love our enemy, he said, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers.’

That's one of the reasons why this is one of my favourite Psalms today. It speaks truth through centuries, about being human. And it marks a milestone in a journey of God’s people; a place that tells us where we are and how much further we have to go. It may be a point of rest, but it is a temporary rest. We must not mistake the milestone for the destination.

The words of this Psalm have a level of honesty that is necessary in our relationship with God, for when we  fully acknowledge where we are, and who we are, then we can let God deal with us and change us and heal us. 

And when God heals us of our own sense of being victims, and of our need for revenge, it enables us to use those experiences, to empathise with others, to redirect our anger to seek justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.

Morning Prayer 9am Monday - with shovels

I arrived at the church yesterday for 9am Morning Prayer - normally there is a small turn-out for this service.  Well, the vicar was there, with a bright-red spade, and he had just started shovelling.

Only half an inch of snow fell on Sunday night (on top of the existing frozen slush and previously compacted snow) but the church is on a steep ungritted hill, and a funeral cortege was due to arrive at 10am. Vans and cars were struggling to get up the hill.

So Morning Prayer took on an entirely different form.

Three of us took part, with shovels... 40 minutes of hard work later and the curate had a bright red face, hair plastered to her head with sweat, and looked as if she had just run a mile in, oooh, twenty minutes. Time to finish grit-spreading, go home and do some desk-work.

Oops, we're missing a verger.  "Will you do the verger's job please?"

A sartorial clergy crisis ensued as it dawned on me that a FLM reject fleece and plastered wet hair (no, I didn't even have a comb with me) doesn't fit the 'appropriately dressed' part of the working arrangements. Luckily the funeral was 20 minutes late starting, and Penny lent me a hair-brush (Thanks!).

Later that day I realised I'd also dropped some food down the front of the fleece... (I wonder when I did that?) Next time I'll put on a cassock to cover the inappropriate clothing, but I only thought of that half-way through the service.  Biretta anyone?

Sermon: 22nd November 2009 - John 18:33-37

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?

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.

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

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

I’ve talked about the decision point, and about God’s will expressed in Scripture, and there is another point that this story draws out for me.

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