Category: Sermons

There is certainly a lot to remember this year, especially with the passing of HM the Queen, herself a war veteran, and the ascendency to the throne of King Charles III, who has experience in all three services. And it will be to the war in which the Queen served that I will refer later.

I’ve not served in the armed forces except for a 2 week placement with the chaplain of the British Army’s 5 Rifles, which included the amazing experience of waking up on a foggy morning in Norfolk surrounded by boxes marked “grenades”.

For me personally it’s hard to comprehend that this time last year I was in Moscow. Diplomats, ambassadors and defence attaches from embassies across the city converged on St Andrew’s, where we remembered those who gave their tomorrow so that we could have today.

Those memories are confusing and mixed. I stood there in Moscow, knowing just how proud my father would have been. He would always stand for the two minutes silence, being part of that generation born after the war, living in the shadow of an event so huge that they could never quite live up to it. His father – my grandfather – had served in World War Two, yet like most of that generation, rarely spoke of it.

As we observed the silence, I was aware of the privilege of helping to lead worship in front of such a prestigious crowd. Yet we were all completely unaware of what was brewing half-a-mile away in the Kremlin. Today, one year later, so many lives have been destroyed by those decisions. I had no idea of the implications of those decisions for me personally: because of that war, since March I have slept in 14 different beds, averaging one new bed every 3 weeks!

Yet millions of people have suffered much worse. Homes and livelihoods destroyed. Unemployment and enforced migration. One month living in your own house; the next living as a refugee, dependent on the goodwill of others. And for many more, there was a son, a brother, a father – and then there was not. How many soldiers have been called to the frontline, willingly or not, and then, before they’ve had the chance to even understand why they are there, the war for them ends. A bomb. A missile. A grenade. A drone. A bullet. And their war is over – another coffin returns, another family is devastated.

I want to take us back to Moscow last year and the Remembrance Service there. The Reverend Malcolm Rogers, still chaplain in Moscow, gave another of his brilliant sermons. All his sermons are powerful and provoking, produced by a humble, passionate man of prayer and biblical study. But this one has stayed with me beyond the others, and so today I will blatantly plagiarise much of his sermon!

Malcolm preached on the Arctic Convoys. To help Soviet Russia in its fight against Hitler, Britain and the allied forces sent convoys across the freezing arctic to supply the USSR. Churchill described the convoys as the “world’s worst journey” – through freezing waters, with sub-zero cutting winds, facing mountainous waves on ships weighed down by thick pack ice on them, the crew sleeping in their coats to keep warm, and all with the threat of U-boats waiting to torpedo your ship.

Then Malcom introduced us to some people who were on those convoys. There was Anderson. He was 17 years old, an American cabin boy on convoy PQ13 in 1942. His ship got lost from the main convoy and was torpedoed. Anderson spent 4 days in a lifeboat at minus 20 before a Russian minesweeper picked them up. Many others had died in the boat from exposure. On the minesweeper, a Russian nurse tried to help Anderson, but when she peeled off his shirt she saw his skin was dead and blackened from the waist down, and he was unable to bend. He died shortly afterwards.

And there was Russell Harrison Bennett, a Canadian who had been on a ship when it was hit and exploded. He had been badly lacerated but was rescued. Then his rescue ship was hit by a torpedo. He survived the lifeboat but died of his injuries on the next ship to collect him. The nurse commented that he never moaned and was a wonderful cheery patient.

For Anderson and for Russell, we ask: what was the point? Anderson was 17. He had just started, and then was dead. As with D-Day – how many were shot before they even put a foot on those beaches? What was their contribution? And Afghanistan – all that work and then the politicians abandon the country. What was it for? And now with Russian and Ukrainian soldiers – so many Russians didn’t even know why they were driving to Kyiv in aging machinery before a rocket ended them. What is the point? Did Anderson and Russell mean anything?

In the gospel reading today, Jesus was talking about wars and rumours of war, and about having family members betray you, and about being persecuted – even to the point of being executed. These words are more and more relevant in today’s world, but were very true 2000 years ago. Family members betraying you. The state hunting you. The leaders you were listening to one week, being torn apart by wild animals in front of baying mobs of Romans just one week later. Those Christians would be tempted to ask: what is the point? Did we mean anything? Against the might of Nero, or his modern incarnations, do our sacrifices make a difference?

We would tell Anderson and Russell that they mattered. Their service helped, in a tiny way, bring about the downfall of Hitler. And to the Christians who died in Rome, we present ourselves. We meet today representing that same faith, while Nero is regarded as a crazy aberration who is (thankfully) history. We meet in freedom, while Imperial Rome is a museum piece. The thousands or millions of nameless Christians who listened to Jesus’ words may not have felt their contribution was meaningful. Yet we are here, and Rome is not.

And the key to all this? Listen to Jesus’ words: verse 8 “Many will come and say I am he – do not go after them”. Verse 9 “When you hear of wars, do not be terrified”. Verse 12-13 “They will arrest you – this will give you an opportunity to testify!” Verse 15 “I will give you words”. And verse 19 “By your endurance you will gain your souls”.

Jesus is telling his followers to remain steady. Root yourselves in the good news message, in the promise that those who remain faithful will be those who are saved.

What are the pressures we face? We might not face physical persecution, but we do face many other pressures. For most of us, they are the ideas of this age, the waves of new philosophy and the oceans of new social pressures.

We must discern the messages of politicians, and the messages in the media and in global advertising – these subtle forces that shape how we think. Is it really of God, or is it leading us astray? “Do not go after them”, said Jesus.

We are here because of those Christians who remained stable, who were faithful to the message and didn’t chase new ideas. Their faithful, quiet service, resilience and dedication; their acts of love, resistance and kindness are the acts that have truly shaped history.

So let us emulate them. Let us listen to the words of Jesus and stand firm, remembering we are the custodians of the Christian message today in this generation.

Let us rededicate ourselves to the message that God loves us, and calls all humans to repent from their own ways, to turn from their sins, and to begin walking with Jesus as his disciples.

Jesus calls us to sacrifice our desires and become more like him. To seek peace. And as we do that, in God’s hands, these small acts become the acts that overthrow empires.

And in his great mercy, on judgement day it will be the compassion of the nurse who treated Anderson that will be remembered.

It will be the doctor who treated Russell. It will be the Christians who were thrown to lions, yet who rather than renounce their faith and cry to the emperor, quietly embraced Jesus in their final moments.

Today, Remembrance Sunday, let us remember and honour those who have stood against evil.

Let us remind ourselves that God’s justice will prevail.

And let us commit ourselves to standing firm against evil and firm for the message of Christ in our generation.

And let us remember that remembrance means nothing if it does not change our actions.

From Job 19: 26 & 27 “…yet in my flesh shall I see God: Whom I shall
see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not another;”
And
From St. Luke 20: 36 “…Neither can they die anymore: for they are
equal unto the angels; and are the children of God, being the children of
the resurrection.”

Welcome to the third Sunday before Advent; in some years it falls on
Remembrance Sunday, and in most years, it is chilly and damp, today
being no exception to the rule. In comparison, the spiritual weather on
offer is rather dazzling, as the readings invite us to remember the living
God, present to us throughout our life even in times of suffering and
uncertainty; the living God who bestows eternal life through the gift of his
sacrificed and risen son, Jesus Christ; the living God who ministers to
and through us by the holy spirit. As if that is not sufficiently marvellous,
both Old Testament Job and New Testament Luke assert and claim the
certainty of life after death. Christians, in a word: resurrection, a core
doctrine traceable back to Exodus, through the Prophets and the psalms
of David to its fulfilment in the New Testament, which creates and
sustains an unbreakable bond between God and his children of the
resurrection.

Think back to “The Week that Changed Everything”, our play for Passion
Sunday this year. In Luke chapter 20, we return to Wednesday the 13th
of Nisan, Jesus’ final day of preaching in the Temple before his Last
Supper, arrest, and Good Friday sacrifice upon the cross. Jesus, never
one to shy away from disputation, combines his popular preaching with
actual rampage within Temple courts, knowing all the while that these
religious and community leaders were united in one aim: to destroy him.
Those are Luke’s very words. Their blood-thirsty determination to cling
onto power and privilege was factored into God’s plan. Jesus knew this,
as do we in retrospect; the scribes and pharisees, high priests and
Sadduces did not. From the beginning of the chapter, they keep gunning
for him, trying to undermine his authority and trap him saying something
legally actionable…something to turn the crowds against him.
Back at the Temple on Wednesday, the elders and priests are no match
for Jesus, who ignores the shabby flattery of their approach and turns
their thinly veiled attacks aside. He wields a pointed parable about
greedy and dishonest husbandmen punished by the freeholder of the
vineyard with its utter destruction. The throng to whom he preached
knew exactly whom he was describing as vines symbolise the Hebrew
nation and its fruitful union with God; Josephus the first century historian
described a massive golden vine decorating the soaring entrance to the
Temple Sanctuary. The people also understood that vinedressers or
husbandmen represent its leaders. Though angry at the public ridicule,
those leaders feared for their safety if they moved against the
troublesome rabbi.

Up step the Pharisees, certain they have him in their sights with a tricky
question: is it lawful to give tribute unto Caesar? Jesus easily disarms
their cunning plan by distinguishing between debts owed to society no
matter how unwelcome and unjust (as in the form of taxes levied by
Caesar, paid in coins bearing his image) and the worship due to God.
The crowd approved of his answer, so the pharisees were also forced to
hold their peace.

By the time we arrive at today’s text, Jesus faces heavy guns, the
Sadducees, arguably the most influential of the cabal of religious and
civic authorities operating in 1st century Jerusalem. Roman authority
denied them the power of life or death, which must have galled and
made them even more strict. It also made them cunning in framing
events to obtain the Romans’ approval; Ciaphus the High Priest and
Sadducee member of the Council provides a textbook example of how
both sets of laws and processes could be manipulated.
Ultra conservative, Sadducees populated the top echelons of the elite,
enforcing a legal code based solely on the law of Moses as set out in the
5 books of the written Torah– the Pentateuch (Genesis, Exodus,
Leviticus, Numbers & Deuteronomy). They ruled out the writings of the
prophets – all 8 books – Isiah, Jeremiah, the lot: as well as any further
interpretation of the law in 11 books of Writings including Psalms,
Proverbs, and Job. They excised angels, direct contact with God whilst
alive or a positive afterlife. Resurrection was a heresy. Upon death, the
soul alone was consigned deep within the earth, in Sheol, a murky
underworld. This rather narrowed their focus to the here and now and
made a priority of obtaining and retaining the best before the game was
up. In the meantime, the authoritative word of God was a one and done
offer. And they were the ones best placed to understand, uphold, and
enforce it.

Which gives rise to a mini side-sermon: on a recent Radio 4 report on
mid-term elections in the US, I was horrified to hear precisely the same
arguments from right wing Republicans: an assertion of a particular edit
of the Bible as the source of authority and national success. And that
they were the ones best placed to understand, uphold, and enforce it. In
the 1st century, one as turbulent and divided as our own 21st, the
Sadducees and their allies presided over the fall of a great nation, and
destruction of much of its heritage. Here in our country, right wing
ideology – though far from centred on scripture however cynically, or the
worship of anything but power and money and the imperial past – has
produced profound degradation of the environment, rising inequality and
deprivation, dangerous levels of debt, and damage to our standing in the
global community. Of course, alternative analyses are available.
Where and whenever practiced, self-proclaimed righteousness and
authority produce results far removed from the everlasting holiness,
endless love and mercy, creative and transformative power of God that
Jesus preached. To the Sadducees, he was blasphemous in his
emphasis on love and forgiveness over law and deeds; by his
association with known sinners; his neglect of ritual cleansing in favour
of one permanent baptism; his habit of healing and helping the poor,
diseased and disabled on the Sabbath. These acts were an affront and
it now fell to them to bring him down – starting with an ad absurdum
assault on the fallacy of resurrection.

They begin by referring to a portion of Deuteronomy concerning laws of
human relations as they apply to the duty of a husband’s brother. Should
a married brother die and leave a childless widow, an unmarried brother
must take the widow in levirate marriage (from the Latin for brother-inlaw).
For this to happen even occasionally, with weight of a legal
obligation, seems strange enough to us. But in the days of full-on
patriarchy, the practice was intended to prevent extinction of the family
and loss of family property; hopefully, also to provide protection for the
widow. One objective is met by producing children of a levirate
marriage. But first, the deceased husband’s property literally must be
paid for to return it to the inheritance of the family, or else it was forfeit
and the widow dispossessed. Enter the Go’el or Kinsman Redeemer,
who must be a blood relative through the father’s line, be able to pay the
price in full AND be willing to fulfil the obligation. Doesn’t this sound like
the very model of our redeemer? … As described in law around 1400
BC before the Israelites entered the Promised Land!
We also have a happy and significant example of the go’el in the story of
Ruth, a Moabite widow of a Jewish man and devoted daughter-in-law to
Naomi, who advises her to make a levirate marriage to Boaz from the
blood family of Ruth’s late husband. This union results in Ruth being one
of only five women mentioned in Jesus’ genealogy as recorded in St.
Matthew, which asserts Jesus’ lineage from the House of David, long
accepted as the source of the Messiah who will liberate the Jews. It links
in Joseph as his legal father, as well as Mary, who undoubtedly would
be from the same tribe and whose father is mentioned in Matthew’s list
of patriarchs. For a gentile woman to play a foundational role by
producing Obed the father of Jesse, who was in turn David’s father,
indicates to Christians that God intended to include all humankind in his
salvation plan. Matthew’s account of the nativity serves as Jesus’ birth
announcement sent from God first to Israel via the House of David, and
then to all his children.

Alas, the Sadducees’ case of levirate marriage does not end so well.
The family in question starts with 7 brothers, one of whom has a wife but
no children of the marriage. When he dies, the second brother marries
his brother’s widow, according to Mosaic law. Then he dies without
fathering a child. The third brother steps up and on it goes, until at last
the widow, still childless, has outlived all possible brotherly replacements
and dies herself. It is a far-fetched premise to set up the Sadducees’
trick question: In the resurrection, whose wife would she be?
This is the kind of Bible passage inviting the imagination to rush in where
a preacher shouldn’t tread. Let’s remember that this far-fetched case
was engineered for a malevolent purpose by the Sadducees then
included by Luke to deepen our understanding…I shall forgo framing it
as demeaning to women, or as negligence in the face of multiple
suspect deaths, or a caution against keeping it in the family. As ever,
other interpretations are available. Instead, let’s consider the words of
Jesus.

He replies with a simple, direct explanation in which I can sense a
disappointment at their inability to understand the scriptures or have faith
in the power of God. For they have missed the point entirely when they
base their question on what pertains only to this world. Once dead to
this world, resurrection redeems us from its sin and limitations, and
ushers us into an unimaginably superior enjoyment of fullness of
life…here we are alive solely for the purposes of God in the image and
model he has ever provided. We are elevated in love and partnership
with all other children of the resurrection and with our God. We are
immortal. There is no need to limit our sacred bond of love and
connection to a marriage partner or to procreate children for purposes of
inheritance and survival of the race. We are like angels, forever dwelling
at a higher, fuller, more sublime level, free from death and the ordeal of
mortal life. We have graduated from earth school to permanently enter
and participate in God’s beloved, eternal family, shedding a finite
existence for one without limitation. In 3 short verses, Jesus sets out a
mind-blowing vision of what is to come for those “accounted worthy”.
Because his adversaries clearly are not worthy, Jesus cannot leave
them without one final attempt to redeem them with a portion of scripture
they would acknowledge – Exodus 3:6– when God speaks to 80-yearold
Moses out of the burning bush, identifying himself as the God of
Moses’ father, and the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, all long
deceased but alive in him forever. It is a reminder that God is ever
present, that death does not end existence; there is another life in his
presence. God will keep the unconditional promise he gave to Abraham
to send a Messiah to save Israel and to bless for the whole world. It is a
permanent pledge to forgive, protect and restore. No wonder Moses hid
his face in fear and wonder. Sadly, the scribes and Sadducees did not
recognise the living God in their midst.

The well-known Malcolm Muggeridge quote “I have one foot in heaven
and one foot on earth, and the foot on earth is on a banana peel”
captures the challenge of being open to the presence of God in the
midst of the uncertainty, loss and chaos of everyday life life…to experience
redemption, like Job, often at times of greatest suffering…to resurrect
faith and hope when mindful of doubts and shortcomings…to unleash
your imagination of what is possible with the Lord. What he promised
that Wednesday is resurrection as the birth right of every child of God.
That is something to remember when stepping on the next banana skin
and feeling all about you shift. “For he is not a God of the dead, but of
the living: for all live unto him.” Amen

“In the first year of Belshazzar king of Babylon Daniel had a dream and visions.”

A story from my first year at university, when I was studying the Book of Daniel. In the room opposite mine a chap was hosting a Christian Union Bible Study.

They were getting rather bogged down in interpreting the Book of Daniel, for obvious reasons –  much of it is weird, and opaque, and not open to easy interpretation. The dreams and visions are psychedelic. Properly the term is apocalyptic.

The consensus amongst most scholars, is that while Daniel depicts period the Babylonian exit in 6^th c BC, it was almost certainly written a lot later. It has more in common with the Apocrypha, probably dating from 163 BC – so very late. I said this, trying to be helpful. And a quiet chap piped up “That’s a lie, from the pit of hell.”

You might not know me lost for words, but on that occasion, I really did not know what to say. You might not be surprised to know I did not go back to that Bible Study group again.

Let’s remind ourselves of the contents of the Book of Daniel to chapter 7. We have heard about the burning fiery furnace and Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, we have heard about Belshazzar’s feast, and Daniel has gone in and come out of the Lion’s Den. And now we hear of the dream of Daniel in the first year of the reign of Belshazzer. Our reading this morning does not give us it all in full. To some extent the book is building up to this section. It tells of world politics of the mid second c bc through the kaleidoscope of vivid dreams.

The night vision of Daniel chapter 7 depicts the rising of four great beasts: a winged lion; a ravenous bear; a leopard, and monster beyond description, with iron teeth and 10 horns.

Contemporaries would not have needed telling, that the four beasts are the four successive empires which dominated the Middle East between the sixth and second centuries BC: the Babylonians, the Medes, the Persians and then the Greeks. The last beast, or empire, was the most fearsome, certainly in terms of how the vision depicts it. Its ten horns are ferocious. One of them, interestingly “a little one,” even speaks. It may be “dreadful and exceedingly strong” nevertheless it is presented pejoratively and contemptuously. But nothing hides its capacity for evil. Daniel sees something else. The Ancient of Days is seen, enthroned in the court of heaven. In the section, which is missed out in today’s reading, we hear “the court sat in judgement and the books were opened”. And over the noise coming from the “little horn”, before the heavenly court, the beast itself was slain, and the Son of Man appears, and to him was given “dominion and glory and kingdom that all peoples should serve him.” You are not wrong if it reminds you of the Book of Revelation.

We need a bit of history: in 175 BC Antiochus IV became the Seleucid ruler of Syria, Judaea and much of Mesopotamia. A descendant of one of Alexander’s generals who had been granted much of the near East, after Alexander’s death. Antiochus, called himself Epiphanes – God made manifest, which indicates something of how he viewed himself.

He had a fascination with the institutions of Judaism, and accepted bribes from different members of the High Priestly family in Jerusalem for the role of High Priest, who was de-facto vassal-governor of Judaea by dint of office. There’s a tussle between the HP and his usurped cousin Jason in 169, which causes Antiochus to storm to Jerusalem and after doing away with Jason in 167, Antiochus does something which will send shock waves through the Jewish world ever after. He sets up a Greek altar on the Temple mount, where the altar of sacrifice outside the Holy of Holies had been. For ever after, and crucially in key texts in the Gospels, this sacrilege is known as “the abomination of desolation”. And it prompts the Maccabean revolt, which lasts until 163 BC.

History does not recount exactly what happened in the Temple precincts at the hands of Antiochus, so shameful and abhorrent was it, but it marked Jewish consciousness ever after, and as we know it’s discussed the New Testament as well because the memory, shock and shame of it.

The Book of Daniel is a way of making sense of this horrendous trauma. Its visions and heightened language and reminder of the prevailing of the hero Daniel of another age, combine to tend and heal the wounds. And crucially to give hope. The book may well have been written before the final outcome of the Maccabean revolt, which sees off the Seleucids, and sees the brief period of Jewish self-rule before the Romans impose their own through Herod in the 1^st c BC.

Those words from the stranger to Daniel, as visions of heaven and hell in a sense are before him ring out:

the saints of the most High shall take the kingdom, and possess the kingdom for ever, even for ever and ever.

So, the whole of the Jewish nation are the saints. They are the ones who have been desecrated by the abomination, but together they will be vindicated, and repossess what has been lost. More importantly their holiness as a nation – their sanctity, their sainthood conferred upon them from the outset, as they became God’s people, is underlined. The re-sanctification of the Temple will restore their holiness too.

We hear as the Gospel Luke’s version of the Beatitudes as today’s Gospel:

Blessed be you poor: for yours is the kingdom of God.  Blessed are you that hunger now: for you shall be filled. Blessed are you that weep now: for you shall laugh.

Jesus, as Luke shows him, sees only the poor, the dispossessed, the hungry and the weeping. It is they (possibly even we) who live out the Gospel because to be one of those means to have followed him.

At this moment many are feeling poor and dispossessed, fearful of hunger and cold, and the uncertainty surrounding deteriorating international and environmental situations only compounds misery and fear. All have wept. Of course, we approach the season of remembrance with All Souls on Wednesday, and Remembrance in two Sundays’ time. Jesus promises blessing and holiness and even happiness to those, to us, for whom those gifts seem distant and unattainable. And here we are at the feast of this holiness, surrounded by the heavenly choir of angels and saints. Many of those listed in the litany we shall say shortly are depicted on our reredos, the arms of the tryptic reach out to us, enfolding us into this saintly band and give us hope.

 

I am sure you were all as impressed as I was by the State Funeral of our late Queen Elizabeth II.  Equally impressive were the proclamations that announced the accession of our new King, Charles III.  We look forward to his Coronation in May next year and we all wish him a long and prosperous reign.

Keeping the word ‘proclamation’ in mind, I turn to today’s Gospel reading when Jesus, in his first synagogue sermon, proclaims, as it is written in the Book of the prophet Isaiah, that he will ‘release the captives, recover sight to the blind and let the oppressed go free’. He is, in effect, proclaiming himself rather than being proclaimed.  Proclaiming himself as a teacher and a liberator, anointed by the Spirit of the Lord to bring ‘good news to the poor’.

At first, when they heard this proclamation, the people in the synagogue spoke well of Jesus but then began to wonder why the son of Joseph the carpenter should be able to make this proclamation.  Who does he think he is?  What I believe is happening here is that in this Gospel passage we see a revolutionary reversal of what people expect when a monarch is enthroned to rule over them.  Surely the Messiah, who has been promised to them as a Saviour, would be clothed in majesty and be of grand, not humble, origin.  Surely he would be proclaimed, not the proclaimer?  Surely he will be served, not serving?

It will be seen from the text that follows today’s Gospel reading that distrust turns to rage as Jesus says that the Gentiles too will receive God’s mercy.  Enraged because, as one Commentary on Luke expresses it, it was assumed by those present that salvation was for the Jews only, as given in Isaiah chapter 61 that is interpreted by Jesus in his proclamation.  There is perhaps one regal moment in the text when the attendant hands Jesus the scroll of the prophet Isaiah.  We could add that as a King or Queen is anointed at their Coronation so Jesus is ‘anointed by the Spirit of the Lord’. None of this was sufficient, it appears, to satisfy the crowd.

So we have a revolution here in terms of what a ruler should be.  The Old Testament kings went to war but Jesus is offering healing and unity.  As Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, it is a call to people to live in harmony with one another, rich and poor alike.  You could say that revolutions turn things around  and there are plenty of examples of this happening in the New Testament.  Jesus turns the Sabbath on its head when he says that the Sabbath was made for man not man for the Sabbath.  He throws over the tables of the money changers in the Temple and calls upon people to love their enemies.

Turning things around has its origins in the Old Testament.  In Isaiah chapter 45 we read the words of God: ‘turn to me and be saved, all the ends of the earth, for I am God and there is no other’. In our worship today we are called upon to turn to face the altar to worship God.  Unfortunately, this turning around to view life from a new perspective falls on deaf ears in the synagogue when Jesus speaks.

No matter, as we as Christians have faith in God’s covenant with us that he will never abandon us.  This is revealed in the Old Testament when, as Nehemiah writes, the Israelites disobey God and kill his prophets but God forgives them more than once in his mercy, grace and covenant.  In the New Testament, the life, death and resurrection of Jesus offers us freedom from sin.

Returning to the nature of monarchy, although it is not obvious from the splendour of a coronation in today’s world and the ceremonies and pageantry that surround the monarch, if we look closer we can find that which very much relates to the Christian life.  There is the anointing of the monarch at the Coronation by the Archbishop of Canterbury, the regular attendance at church and in the first words of the National Anthem it is God who saves the monarch.  Service is at the very heart of royal duty, and working for the betterment of the world.  The difference, though, in the life of Jesus, is that God made himself poor that we could become rich.  Rich not in wealth but in mental and spiritual prosperity.

At the moment, in the current cost of living crisis, no-one is feeling prosperous on any level, mentally, financially or spiritually. There is the feeling of everything worldwide being in a downward spiral with war, climate change and economic difficulties.  We can take comfort though in the knowledge that Jesus too was caught in a downward spiral by being brought low, crucified, and laid in a tomb but then he rose again to sit at the right hand of God.  It is this triumph over adversity of a terrible kind that we can look to as our hope for the future because it demonstrates the fact that no matter how wrong footed we are God has the final word.  This final word is the triumph of light over darkness.

Keeping this promise of the light in mind, we can turn to God and pray for better times and trust in his everlasting forgiveness and love for us all. This will give us the strength to persevere and to help others less fortunate than ourselves. When the strong protect the weak this demonstrates our faith in the future and our trust in God’s promise to us of the glory to come.

 

AMEN

From today’s Gospel “Destroy this temple and in three days, I shall raise it up.” Words above the doorway of this church, from Genesis 28: 17: “This is none other than the House of God, this is the Gate of Heaven.”

65 years ago almost to the day, the then Bishop and clergy from the Deanery gathered here to dedicate this church after it was rebuilt in 1957.

On this anniversary we remember the rededication, and we give thanks for the ongoing work of the work of maintenance as it is constantly beautified to the glory of God. The boundary wall which has been restored, for the first time since St Mark’s was built in 1854, is now clean, and more importantly, safe. The careful work, undertaken by Stonedge and Tomas the mason in charge, who is here, is something we are very proud of. The wall frames and protects the church grounds so well. And our huge thanks to all who have been part of contributing to this work in relatively short order.

As the work has been progressing, I have been pondering stones, and walls; words with many Theological resonances; and the ironies of what it means for the Church itself to be a Temple not made with hands, comprising living stones – us, and yet to be reliant on stone and mortar for our in-gathering.

In my thinking, my mind has been drawn to the great western wall in Jerusalem, you have a photo of it in the order of service. On the right you see a close up of the western wall of Herod’s Temple, still not completed in Jesus’s day. Can you see at the base the massive stones which Herod’s labourers placed. As you go north from there the stones become even more enormous. What is interesting about this wall is that the portion we can see is but a small proportion of the total size. It was 105 ft 32 metres high from foundation to top, and 488 metres in length only 57 metres of which are visible. The scale is breath-taking. Much of that great wall is below the plaza in these pictures. The rubble created by the Romans first in 70 AD and then again in 135 AD, when they destroyed the temple precincts and filled the land to the west,  re-landscaped of the western approach to the Temple Mount. After that the Romans then built in 135 a temple to Jupiter on the site, and expelled the Jewish population from their ancient city. Never again would it function as their most holy place.

Ever since, only this section of wall has stood as vestige and poignant reminder of once was. This contested site is an intersectional place: to the north is the Dome of the Rock, and to the South, the A’qsa Mosque, both places of the greatest significance in Islam, the latter the place of Mohammed’s night journey into to heaven, the former possibly over the site of the Holy of Holies, the place where Abraham offered Isaac before he was redeemed by a ram in the ticket. For this rock is most possibly Mt Moriah.

The temple precincts in Jesus’s day thronged with pilgrims, not least on high holy days. It was quite proper that animals should be bought with Temple money, and the costs of maintaining the Temple made our boundary wall look like a walk in the Park; so a regulated trade in currency conversion was overseen by the Priestly guardians of the Temple. John tells us Jesus comes at the Feast of Passover. There are potent echoes from the Hebrew Bible. The quote from Psalm 69: 9, Zeal for thy house hath eaten me up and Not turning my father’s house into a house of merchandise from Zechariah 14, together signal the both the day of the Messiah, and the refrain of prophetic interest from the earliest days concerning proper care for the Temple.

At some level Jesus is opposing the trade that takes place there. This is consistent across all four gospels, although the other three place this event just after Jesus has come into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

All of them quote this opposition to inappropriate trade. But beyond this, John’s memory is the more striking. The dispensation of the use of the Temple because of its prophesied destruction, at the hands of others, then Jesus’ self-identification as its successor, is John’s equivalent of the Nazareth Manifesto. This is the gauntlet Jesus throws down as his ministry starts. The remaining nine chapters to chapter 11 are the outworking of the significance of this.

From what Jesus says we learn that sacred buildings and sacrifice are no longer necessary in this new vision of the divine economy. All that takes place within them which previously connected the worshipper with God, will now happen in him and his body, of which we are the members.

It was utterly shocking to make this claim. And yet, it was surprisingly in tune with the critique of others of Jesus’s contemporaries. The Essenes, in Qumran, from what we read in the Dead Sea Scrolls, had turned their backs on the Jerusalem Temple, for multiple reasons to do with frustration with the hierarchy there. They were the voices in the wilderness before John the Baptist was, and perhaps he was even one of them.

Stones and walls were implied as coming tumbling down in Jesus’s recasting of the Temple.

And yet, in our turn, we recreate, we identify and mark out and set boundary walls around sacred space. We hallow these portals year by year in memory of its foundation, and see Christ as the bedrock of this permanence. The words of Jacob’s following his dream at Bethel where he sees angels climbing up and down on a ladder to heaven “This is none other than the House of God, this is the Gate of Heaven” are carved into the lintel of the door by which we enter.

The first Christians spent their days worshipping in the Temple in Jerusalem. They did not reject it. And for the first 100 years after Jesus’s death, Palestinian Christianity was but a sect of Judaism. We have a primitive need to set apart space which is God’s so that we can be reminded that all space is ultimately his, and so we can worship him in spirit and in truth. To be Christ’s body, we need the certainty and stability of place. The walls we build and restore to secure that holiness of place, make not just our history one of salvation, but our geography too. Those walls are not to exclude but to protect and to provide open gates of welcome, flung wide, so that all may know God’s love. “There are no secrets” one of the great dramaturges of the last 70 years once wrote and this is the truth of the sacred space we hallow. Nothing is hidden, all are welcome. The signal of a boundary is not as permanent as its construction might suggest, in circumscribing sacred space, we speak as best we can of an eternity which is assured, everything else is relative. Just as after Jesus’s death and resurrection his disciples remembered Jesus’s words “and they believed the scripture.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We are keeping harvest today, because I have sense that the late Queen and the King would approve. Not only country people at heart, they and the Duke of Edinburgh have had shared and complementary visions of the need for respect for our planet and the systems which enable food production and biodiversity. Without meaning to detract from the seriousness of the death of the Queen, and her funeral tomorrow, it seems right to proceed with our Harvest celebrations now, and I shall defer to thoughts expressed by the King in a major and very considered speech he gave in 2021, as the world leader with the longest track record on this subject.

Just a few personal words about harvests. My earliest memories are of the cider apple harvest.

Apples and Somerset are almost synonymous. Our garden had a small orchard which adjoined that of a neighbour, my grandparents had a historic cider apple orchard which could almost have been listed, with rare varieties, and my father worked for a firm which doesn’t exist anymore, but you may remember, Taunton Cider, which marketed rather substandard ciders Dry Blackthorn and Autumn Gold.

In these early memories I was always perched on tractor somewhere, as apples from different orchards were loaded on to be taken and pressed. The taste of raw cider apple is a bracing one. Very acid, they are not like any eating sort, we used to distinguish between cookers and eaters, and cider apples were almost another fruit entirely. Sadly, as the years went on and my father changed jobs, my grandparents went from selling their apples (not for very much) to giving them to another of the local cider producers, eventually to paying for them to be taken away. Artisanal cider crafting was some way off, with no encouragement for it in national or local agricultural policy.

The discourse in farming around sustainability and soil health are very different now, and simple things like increasing the variety of habitats around arable land is renewing the balance in nature, which mercifully is reducing the need for pesticides and expensive and unnecessary chemical products.

Today’s OT reading, written in the 8^th c BC is about as topical as it can be. It was written at a moment when grain prices were exorbitant, and sheaves of wheat were decreased in size and sold for more money; and when some were so abjectly poor, that they were worth but the price of a pair of shoes. The intimate connection in an agricultural age between economics and grain production demonstrates the dependence of human society on wise stewardship of god-given resources. The canny or unjust steward in today’s Gospel, is commended for interesting behaviour. His Lord realises the steward may have been bad at his job before he was sacked, but as he saw the end of his livelihood from estate-management, he sensibly not only cut the tenants’ bills and rents – thereby almost certainly depriving himself of his rake-off; his lord could see that he was currying favour with future friends and supporters for after he was out on his ear. Faced with a crisis, the worldly-wise manager took vigorous action. He acted against his own interests to preserve his long-term future. As a “child of this world”, Our Lord is saying that the steward showed himself more shrewd than the “children of light”. Luke’s Gospel is all about reversals and up-endings. The coming Kingdom of God is essentially one great reversal:

The master commended the dishonest steward for his shrewdness; for the sons of this world are more shrewd in dealing with their own generation than the sons of light.
And I tell you, make friends for yourselves by means of unrighteous mammon, so that when it fails they may receive you into the eternal habitations.

It’s quite dense and relies on a grasp of what Jesus has said already in this Gospel. Luke is reminding his readers that giving away all that ties us down, our wealth, is the ultimate means to entry into heaven. Jesus tells us in Chapter 6 the poor have their privileged places in the Kingdom of Heaven., the same poor will welcome those who free themselves of these burdens into eternal dwellings, just like the tenants will be friendly with the steward who reduced their rents. Giving up our own interests, losing everything to find what is most needful is one of the great themes of Luke’s work.

We might connect these sobering words with what we might see as our God-given duty to play our part in the preservation of our planet. Giving up short-term interests and thinking for the centuries to come is what we are bound to do.

Our King’s lifetime commitment to the preservation of the environment has been an almost spiritual task. He spoke at the opening of Cop 26 in November last year.

The Covid-19 pandemic has shown us just how devastating a global, cross-border threat can be.  Climate change and biodiversity loss are no different – in fact, they pose an even greater existential threat, to the extent that we have to put ourselves on what might be called a war-like footing.

Together, we are working to drive trillions of dollars in support of transition across ten of the most emitting and polluting industries.  They include energy, agriculture, transportation, health systems and fashion.  The reality of today’s global supply chains means that industry transition will affect every country and every producer in the world.  There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that the private sector is ready to play its part and to work with governments to find a way forward.

Many of your countries I know are already feeling the devastating impact of climate change, Any leader who has had to confront such life-threatening challenges knows that the cost of inaction is far greater than the cost of prevention.  So, I can only urge you, as the world’s decision-makers, to find practical ways of overcoming differences so we can all get down to work, together, to rescue this precious planet and save the threatened future of our young people.

On this Harvest Festival and the eve of the funeral of our Late Queen, whose love of creation was foremost, we pray the leaders of all the nations in their stewardship of this planet, and we pray for the new chapter in this nation’s life under King Charles III, and with him renew our commitment to protect, steward and sustain our world.

 

John 14: 11 “For whosoever exalteth himself shall be abased; and he
that humbleth himself shall be exalted”. 13 “…when thou makest a
feast, call the poor, the maimed, the lame, the blind…”
Hebrews 13: 16 “… to do good and to communicate forget not: for with
such sacrifices God is well pleased”.

Welcome to the eleventh Sunday after Trinity on a balmy late summer
bank holiday, with a special welcome to William and his family as they
return from their summer break. Many are also welcoming the chance
to celebrate the Notting Hill Carnival for the first time in 3 years. My
household is welcoming a new kitten. With joy a bit thin on the ground,
anything happy-making is most welcome!

In today’s scripture we meet Jesus in the house of a high-ranking
Pharisee as one of the invited Sabbath supper guests, where he
decidedly upset his host’s event. Luke sets the scene, reporting that
his host and others in attendance were keeping a beady eye on the
troublesome new rabbi from the moment he crossed the threshold.
Jesus is literally dining with the enemy, whose counterfeit hospitality
cloaks Machiavellian intent: to entrap him in law-breaking in front of the
right sort of witnesses, so exposing him to prosecution with fatal
consequence.

As we know, this very device was written into God’s plan for our
salvation. But it could only occur in His own time, and through His
Son’s fulfilment, not by their agency. Instead, their malicious invitation
made possible an outreach to the very people who wished to harm
Jesus, a chance to have their minds and hearts disrupted and
transformed by his words…as well as presenting an enduring object
lesson on how to live with each other, starting at the dinner table.

Our current moment of man-made upheaval, uncertainty, and adversity
cries out for such an antidote. Particularly as we are treated to an
extended, real-time demonstration of those who exult themselves…
whilst the poor become poorer, more desperate, more numerous…the
maimed, lame and blind increasingly untended, unfunded, unloved.

What the Judean Pharisees must stomach on this particular Sabbath is
a 3-course menu of spiritual instruction, starting with an appetiser of
“unlawful” healing on the Sabbath, the 7th such incidence in Luke’s
gospel. By asking their “permission” to do the manifestly right thing,
Jesus silences them, reveals their hypocrisy…and sends another
grateful, restored person on their way to tell everyone about it. Our
takeaway is a sharp exposition of the difference between man-made
law that puts rules and power before the needs of people, and God’s
word, which ever serves the greatest good for people. Here is the sole
source of all good things and the generator of endless good news.

Jesus then serves up the piquant parable on humility and the nature of
hospitality in today’s featured passage. This is our main gospel focus;
however, it whets our appetite for a third course parable concluding the
dinner party narrative.

Once again, the lord gathers us around the table, offering the sublime
nutrition of his word. Like the Pharisees that Sabbath, we are free to
accept it – or not. In “Mere Christianity”, C.S. Lewis observes that “God
never meant man to be a purely spiritual creature. That is why He uses
material things like bread and wine to put new life into us. We may
think this rather crude and unspiritual. God does not: He invented
eating.” We affirm his act of creation with every shared mouthful, every
family celebration, feast day and deal made over a meal.

Now Luke is good on parables, embedding 40 such spiritual teaching
aids in his book, 11 of them exclusive to his gospel, a sufficiency to
guide Christians through their spells in the wilderness of life on earth.
Some are drawn from prophets of the Old Testament as instruction
from God; when spoken by the Son of God, they become vivid
portrayals of people in strange and memorable stories that are
allegories of meaning. They point to the truth woven through each
one…so we can begin to see ourselves as God sees us…made still in
His image despite our soiled and muddled human state …and so turn
to Him for grace. Luke also choses parables that capture an historical
moment, a tipping point for the original people of God, clinging to an
occupied and divided country, perched at the edge of destruction and
exile. Their power structures struggle to deal with the appearance of
the incarnate son of God, whose appearance will divide and reorganise
geopolitics and human destiny for centuries to come.

Jesus had just silenced the Pharisees. Whether it was from shame at
being called out for failing to help or incredulity that Jesus dared to DO
IT AGAIN on the Sabbath! It could not have created the most convivial
of atmospheres. Nonetheless, Jesus observes that as they move into
the dining room, they jostle each other for position at the table. And he
speaks up again, calls out their pushy behaviour, warning they could
find themselves embarrassed. He takes them to a wedding feast (the
setting for his very first public miracle), then as now fraught with
protocols and rituals.

Guests who seize a top seat may find their host does not have as high
an opinion of them as they do of themselves and intended it for another,
more distinguished guest. This makes them vulnerable to being moved
along to a lower position in plain sight of their rivals…gaining the wrong
sort of attention instead of the recognition and prestige they seek.
Definitely not how real hospitality is given or received, because it carries
the weight of status and obligation.

Instead, he counsels assuming the lowest, most obscure place, then
awaiting the host’s genuine invitation to join the head table. In this
scenario, their rivals witness the promotion and are forced to commend
one so exalted. It turns out that putting others first is the Lord’s upsidedown
strategy for obtaining true recognition, as well as the priceless
bonus of God’s blessing.

Further, you can eschew fancy gatherings altogether and stop
socialising only with people who can benefit you in some way. Instead,
lavish your hospitality on the lowest, the poorest, the disabled and
afflicted. Not only is their need genuine, but your hospitality would be
free of expectation for repayment. In that way, the open-handed host
can be freed from the pride that limits relationship with God and his
own guests. For pride leads to worship of a false or imaginary god in
the image of our own ambition; tradition and self-interest can then
combine to guarantee privilege. Done the Christ-like way, hospitality
returns to “what you know” instead of “who you know”, no doubt a
better way to build confidence in your own abilities as well as to live
according to his teaching and example.

That is why putting others first does not diminish you. Archbishop
William Temple thought and wrote extensively on the all-important
relationship of Church and Nation in creating and sustaining social
justice and offered the following: “Humility does not mean thinking less
of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion
of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself at all.”
Hallelujah!

We hear the parable draw to a triumphant close, with its promise of
future blessings for those who do good works and charitable acts free
of desire for personal advantage. But this awkward dinner party
doesn’t end there – one of the guests rushes to fill the silence with a
pious cliché about eating bread in the kingdom. With the full
assumption that, of course, everyone present would be at THAT table!

Time for Jesus to serve the third course, a zinger of a great supper they
will never taste…though it is by their own choice they forgo the banquet
of salvation. Like a Judean “Discrete Charm of the Bourgeoisie” but
with eternal consequences, habits of self-interest, self-indulgence and
self-importance deprive them of any seat at the table although they
were among the first to receive a divine invitation.

After this performance, Jesus was not welcomed again to a Pharisee
table, even as a ‘frenemy’ of the status quo. Luke 15 tells us the next
dinner party Jesus attends is in the company of tax collectors and
sinners. Those despised by traditional society are the ones he specially
came for. In a world turned upside down, it’s the least, the last and the
lost who sit at the top table. Why? Because they can acknowledge
their short-comings and lowly status. They understand their ability to
earn God’s grace and healing through their own actions is non-existent.
And just like that, they are freed to act without thought of repayment or
benefit… able to turn to Christ…for the greater good of all.

Now if this twangs your inner skeptic, consider this: wouldn’t it be a
better way to proceed? If kingdom come isn’t in your pension plan, this
investment would still make the time shared here on earth so much
better. As we reel from long-term effects of imposed distance from our
shared table and bereavement, the ability of everyone to feed, warm
and water themselves and their families is now in doubt.

This is no time to exalt those who have pushed their way to the top
table. It isn’t leadership – it’s a land grab – and there is quite enough of
that going on elsewhere. Remember the call to brotherly love and
kindness to strangers, welcoming visitation by angels, caring for those
in adversity, guarding respect for the sanctity of marriage and the
power of our words. These are not rules or legal requirements or
commandments; they are the love song of God with his people. “Jesus
Christ, the same yesterday and today, and forever”. Amen.

I’m going to reflect on some aspects of the gospel reading first, and then tell you a little about the Lambeth Conference where I served for a week. The conference saw 650 bishops from Anglican churches across the world gather to pray, study and worship together.

But I can’t leave today’s gospel alone! It’s one of those readings that grabs our attention! Gone is gentle Jesus, meek and mild. Today Jesus says he’s bringing division, fire and causing family rifts. What’s going on?!

Jesus says he comes to bring fire. Fire is a symbol of destruction and judgement – it is to be feared. But equally, it contains a cleansing element. After the fire there remains ash, and seeds. New life can grow after the cleansing judgement – but the judgement is there to cleanse, to eradicate the evil and to show us the consequences of our rejection of God.

It made me reflect on where we are as a nation. In 1940 Britain had a national day of prayer, when the nation – probably awkwardly, probably with a lot of doubts – took some moments to just throw up prayers in anguish, hoping for help. I don’t pretend Britain was a Christian country, but I do think many ordinary folk did just take a few moments of humility, asking God for help.  A few days later the Dunkirk evacuations took place with the English Channel in a unique state of calmness, facilitating the small armada of ships.

In 2022, we don’t want to talk about that fact, we instead want to say the soldiers were heroes, our nation is great, and faith should be a private matter. When Covid sent millions to an early grave, the churches were shut and national leaders offered little attempt at national prayer. After a time we came up with a vaccine but then failed to share it widely internationally because of copyright issues, condemning many more to death. And as politicians skip work, the ground burns, the earth warms, the land disappears under concrete, Ukraine is destroyed by bombs, people risk life and limb to flee wars, and the consequences of printing money and massive debt are coming home to bite us all as a recession, why don’t we see the signs…?

Jesus also says he comes to bring division not peace. Now this has to be read carefully and in context. Luke is adamant that the arrival of Jesus is peace towards all humanity, it is God reaching out to us in peace. We are called to live in peace.

But this world is in rebellion against God. Peace with God places us at odds with the world. 2000 years ago this was very clear, and today in some cultures this is a reality: your faith is not just a private matter, it is your identity. If you leave your religion, you bring shame on your family. Fathers can and indeed do betray sons to death.

Of course we are called to love our families and our biological relationships are the first calling in our lives, but equally we are to look beyond our tribes. We are called to live in peace and love with everyone if we can, and to realise that our own family might reject us because of our faith. But fear not: the Christian family is a new creation, a new family of people.

William our vicar has a lovely family, but when I had to leave Russia suddenly, I was welcomed into his family, given a place to live, fed at meal times, treated with kindness, care and respect. I have no biological connection to the Gullifords, but that hospitality shown to me is exemplary of the new family we are called to be in, showing Christian love and kindness to other Christians!

And the same with Christians in Africa, Asia, the Middle East, Europe, the Americas. These people are just as much, and sometimes more, our family as your brother or sister. That is a revolutionary idea, but a great comfort to people who were thrown out of their community for following Jesus.

And so to Lambeth. And this is the connection: I met bishops from across the world. Bishops with tribal scars on their faces. One bishop who had actually fought a lion as a child. Bishops from the war in South Sudan, bishops dealing with historic abuse cases in North America. Bishops struggling day-to-day in Israel / Palestine. These people came together at Lambeth and shared their stories, told how God was faithful to them, and strengthened each other.

These people, and their churches, are our brothers and sisters. They are our family. Jesus calls us to love them as we love our parents or siblings. Are we listening to them, responding to their needs?

We had about 650 bishops, plus 650 husbands or wives, plus a few hundred extras like me! The days started with prayer, breakfast, then a bible study on the first book of Peter. Peter, the lead disciple of Jesus, dealt with all of the same issues we experience today – persecution, division, bad ideas about God, and suffering. Then the bishops had time to study, then they had time to share their stories, then they came together in the afternoons to make calls to the wider world.

These Lambeth ‘calls’ are the united voices of the church’s leadership urging Christians to take action and committing themselves to taking action.

It means that when someone has committed abuse in a church, that abuse is not covered up, but the abuser is arrested and the abuse compensated, even if it bankrupts us. It means us in the West using our power to bring justice for those in poorer states. How can we sleep well having eaten food that was grown by a poor Christian working almost as a slave? How can we rest easily when our emissions are burning the soils of poor Christians in South America? There is much we can do to help our brothers and sisters internationally.

Of course there was talk about human sexuality, and there is a great division between the majority of the church and minority Western churches, but the bishops chose to walk together, recognising that people will always disagree, but Christ calls us to be committed to loving one another. We are all unique and different, but Jesus said humanity will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.

I checked the BBC headlines during the week, and was saddened. When the leaders of 85 million Anglicans committed to planting a Communion Forest to combat climate change, the media ignored it. For some reason, Kym Marsh being on Strictly and Chrissy Teigen’s pregnancy were deemed more important. Whoever she is, I wish Chrissy all the best and pray for a wonderful baby for her, and hope Kym enjoys Strictly, but if that is news, I’m a turnip.

But this is what Jesus is saying (not I’m a turnip!!) – the world is going to hate and reject us. Christians are at odds with the world. Even the Science and Faith commissions launched at Lambeth to make it clear to the world that there is no clash will be ignored, because the world does not want to hear the message of repentance and submission to Christ.

The world wanted a big dispute about gay marriage, but instead got bishops who wanted to work together. The world wanted a fight, but my experience of Lambeth was hundreds of bishops signing up to link their dioceses together – poorer parts of Africa joining in work with richer parts of London or America. That is brotherhood, sisterhood, and the revolutionary new family of Jesus.

Let us commit ourselves to seeing how we might serve and love our international brethren. Amen

In the opening sentence of today’s Gospel reading, we learn that Jesus is reassuring his disciples that they need not be afraid of opposition, particularly from the Pharisees, because they have the promise of the Kingdom of God.  No-one can take that promise from them because it does not rely upon earthly possessions, so cherished by the Pharisees, but upon ‘treasure in heaven’.

Jesus’s call upon his disciples not to worry features many times in Luke’s Gospel. In the text preceding today’s reading, Jesus tells his disciples not to fear those who kill the body, only fear God who has ‘the authority to cast into hell’. He goes on to urge them not to worry about their life because God will care and provide for them.

If we read on beyond today’s Gospel text we realize that what Jesus is asking of his disciples by way of fearless trust in the promise of the Kingdom is a tall order because, as Jesus says of himself, he has come ‘to bring fire to the earth’ and ‘division in households’.  I would have thought that any one of us would have needed much reassurance in those circumstances that to follow Jesus need not be a fear ridden task.  The controversy that Jesus engendered was, after all, going to lead to his death on the Cross.

I believe there is a message here for us all in today’s world, which is mired in pandemic and anxiety about the future.  A message that says if we trust in the promise of the Kingdom we need not buckle under the weight of issues that confront us.  Rather let us stand firm and protect the weak and let us shift away from too much value on material possessions and towards trust in the provision that God makes for us. There is much evidence of this happening today in the increase of help given to others in the difficult circumstances we are in.   Here, I believe, is a sign of God working his purposes out as the waters cover the sea.

Returning to today’s Gospel reading, we learn that the disciples need to be ready for the Son of Man ‘coming at an unexpected hour’. They must be on their guard as they wait for this to happen.  So to be fearless does not mean that they can relax but be mindful at all times of the coming of the Son of Man.  They must be ‘dressed for action’ and have their lamps lit.

This watching and waiting cannot have been an easy task for them as watching and waiting can be more demanding in a tense situation than action.  I think here of the soldiers of the First War who would have had to endure the silence and stillness in the trenches before going over the top to confront the enemy.  Here we see that being alert and waiting does not in itself necessarily bring about a happy conclusion.  In opera and literature we can also find unhappy endings that result from watching and waiting. In Puccini’s opera ‘Madam Butterfly’ the heroine, Cio-Cio San, the Japanese geisha, waits throughout the night in utter stillness and trust as she looks out on to the horizon for the return of the one she loves, Lieutenant Pinkerton, but he does not come at that time.  In Thomas Hardy’s novel ‘Far from the Madding Crowd’ Sergeant Troy waits in the church for his bride-to-be, Fanny Robin, but disastrously she has gone to the wrong church and he can wait no more.

Watching and waiting though can produce a happy result and there is a wonderful example of this in the recent triumph of the Lionesses in women’s football after many years of waiting, but it is a variable.  Yet this variable does not negate what Jesus is asking his disciples to do. He is calling upon them not to achieve a result from watching and waiting that relates to earthly existence but a result that has a heavenly meaning. That heavenly meaning is the Kingdom to come. This will require an agonizing death on the Cross and we know that this requirement was so demanding that even Jesus himself cried out on the Cross ‘My God, my God, why has thou abandoned me?’.  Only then can the Resurrection follow and the promise of the Kingdom be fulfilled.

It is the Resurrection and the promise of the Kingdom that we are assured of in this call to the disciples to watch and wait.  The disciples followed Jesus until near the end of his life and although they could not quite watch and wait until the end as they fell asleep in the garden of Gethsemane, it did not prevent Jesus encountering them once more after his death and instructing them to go and, as given at the end of Matthew’s Gospel, to make disciples of all nations.

Here we have for us today this assurance of the outcome of the Resurrection and the promise of the life to come.  In our highly mobile world, that is what puts a value on stillness and watchfulness.  Stillness can help us to stay calm and focussed in the storms of life and allow us time to reflect upon the glory of the Kingdom to come.

So in our troubled world today, let us not look down in despair but upwards to the sky above where, as the Psalmist wrote: ‘God watches us from heaven, fashioning our hearts and observing our deeds’.  It is that heavenly realm that is our ultimate destination.  A destination where there will be no more fear, no more need to watch and wait, only to dwell in the light of God’s love for us all.

 

Amen

 

 

 

 

 

 

I do apologise because you’ve now had me three Sundays in a row, and the plan was for me to be on next week too! But Ros is kindly relieving me of the sermon next week – many thanks! Yet it’s always a blessing for me (perhaps not for you!) to be on the preaching rota, because I get to look into the passage in depth – and it is so rewarding digging into the teachings of Jesus!

The message today is quite simple: avoid greed and the entrapment of objects. Guard yourself against the enticing power of objects. Remember: possessions are never owned by you. You are possessed by them. You are the temporary thing, not the object. You might have a Ferrari all your life, but on the day after your funeral, it will still be there and you will be gone. It is more accurate to say that it possessed you…

Heart Motivation

In the gospel reading today we have a man crying out for someone to support him in a family argument. My brother should divide our inheritance with me! On the face of it, this seems right. It implies that the brother is doing something wrong in not dividing the inheritance. However, we should note the reaction of Jesus – there seems to be more going on here than meets the eye.

Jesus responds by saying “Man, who made me the judge in your Family Court law suit?” It’s quite a natural reaction really – if you shouted “help me get to the airport on holiday”, I could say “who made me your taxi driver?”. The use of ‘man’ by Jesus, in that culture, is like a rebuke.

But also, Jesus is not liking the motive at work. The guy calling out is trying to get money from his brother, and it seems that Jesus sees that this man is not seeking an equitable distribution of the inheritance, but actually just wants some more money! We should remember that Jesus has a history of seeing right through our pretences to exposing the heart of what we are saying.

You can’t take it with you

And so we have a key sentence in our reading: your life is much more than the stuff you own. Your life does not consist of the objects you collect in your house. Who you are, who you follow, who you become matter far more than things that you never really own. You can’t take any of it with you – just ask the pharaohs! The objects they were buried with to help them in the afterlife are today being dug up by archaeologists in Egypt. Meanwhile, the pharaohs themselves, their qualities and their characters, are mysteries only known to God.

Jesus thus reacts to the guy wanting some more cash. He tells him “don’t seek after money and wealth because stuff on this planet us not real treasure”.

And yet, the more we get the more it controls us. Have you seen the film “All the Money in the World?” It’s about Jean Paul Getty (played by Christopher Plummer) and his grandson who was kidnapped. Getty, the richest man in history, initially refused to pay any ransom. When asked “You are the richest man in history, what would it take for you to feel secure?”, he growls “More!”

And so the man in Jesus’ parable is probably deceiving himself too. “I’ll lay up my wealth, store things up, and then I can sit back and enjoy the income, enjoy the fruits of my labour, and I can eat, drink and be merry!” The Good Life! Yet how many people actually do that? I had a relative who worked to earn so he could have the good life, but never had enough. Then he realised he had stage 4 cancer and his days were numbered. All his work went to someone else.

Selfishness V Sharing

There are numerous messages in this parable, but I think the one that hits me is the attitude of “looking out for number one” – which Jesus opposes. This attitude is in essence one of selfishness.

The guy in the parable lives in ancient Israel. Most people lived in small village communities. The lives of everyone in that village were entwined. They all knew who was struggling, who was suffering, and who needed help. Yet here we have a guy making some money, doing well, finally getting some prosperity, and thinking immediately … of having a yacht, a Rolls-Royce, and putting his feet up!

There is nothing wrong with yachts and Rolls Royces. But when Christians – our brothers and sisters – are being hunted to extinction in the Islamic world, when Christians are being forced into poverty by climate change, and when Christians are being silenced and arrested even closer to home, to think of getting luxury items before helping the vulnerable and suffering, is selfish. It is earning treasures on earth and rejecting treasure in heaven.

In the year 2000, Peter Mandelson said “New Labour is intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich”. I wish he had added a bit more to that statement, because as it is, I don’t think Jesus would agree. Getting filthy rich is fine so long as everyone else is doing well or that you are willing to step in to spend your riches paying for healthcare for the homeless, for the sick, or for the elderly.

The man in the parable lives in a community. He is well aware of the struggles of others. Yet his first and only concern is storing up his own wealth. “I’ll be fine, even if the others are not”. This man has no community spirit, no connection with his fellow humans, and no thought to God. He does not see himself as having any duties or responsibilities. He has, in essence elevated himself to godlike status.

The Thrust of the Scriptures of God

And in a society like ancient Israel, that was awful! He was going against the entire thrust of the Old Testament scriptures and the prophets who wrote them, teaching us to care for one another and support our families and the vulnerable elderly. His first thought was “how can I relax more” rather than “how can I help the people for whom I am responsible?”

As an only child, I have always prized being an island. But I am wrong: No man is an island! John Donne is right. We are connected to each other, and Christ calls us to be his body, his connected church, a family dedicated to worshipping God and showing the world a new kind of love.

How should we live?

So how do we live? Possessions are traps. Jesus is telling us to guard ourselves so that we do not become the possessions of our possessions. He is talking to people who had some stuff, not a lot, but who were tempted to see the solution as more stuff. Jesus knows you need stuff, he’s guarding against the desire we all have for more stuff.

If only I had a new computer, I’d be happier. Wrong! If you want true pleasure, the solution is to lay up riches toward God. Stuff fools us into thinking we are gods, and we forget our passing, temporary nature on this earth.

Jesus is telling us to watch our hearts and give an honest assessment. The rich man received an abundant harvest – which ultimately is a gift from God – and immediately thought of his own profiteering.

When we are doing well, do we immediately think of a new iPhone or do we think of helping others? Do our lives, does the money we earn, help the world’s poorest? Are you and I storing up treasure in heaven by helping the suffering, spreading the good news of Jesus, and feeding the poor? When we are weighed in God’s balances, will we have used our financial blessings to help God’s family…?

Let us commit ourselves to love shown in giving more of the blessings we enjoy.

Amen

 

One of my pet peeves in church is going to happen today, in this service. In fact, I’m going to be involved in leading it. It involves the Lord’s Prayer. I have been attending churches since I was a baby, and I, like many of you, have rattled through the Lord’s Prayer a million times. Many of us are so used to it we can say it backwards in our sleep!

And today, we will canter through it again – and if you are anything like me, autopilot switches on, and you just say the words. The Lord’s Prayer has become a Harry Potter magic spell. Just say the words in the right formula, and all will be good.

No!  Although we will go through it with some pace and rhythm today, I really encourage you to think later, in your own times of prayer at home, about what we are praying.

I also want you to consider that the Lord’s prayer is not a magic combination of words: it is a framework. The framework for prayer goes like this:

1. Praying for God’s kingdom and will to be done, for him to be exalted in all that happens on earth
2. Praying for my / our daily needs
3. Praying for forgiveness and that we Christians continue to be merciful, forgiving people one to another
4. Praying for deliverance from temptation and hard, painful times
5. We then conclude with a doxology of praise: for thine is the kingdom, the power and glory, forever and ever, Amen!

So that’s prayer for God’s will to be done, prayer for our needs, prayer that we will be forgiving, and prayer for protection and endurance.

It should also be noted that Jesus says “When you pray”. There are no Christian disciples of Jesus who do not pray. That should be a wake-up call to everyone, me included!

So in the Lord’s prayer, we pray for three things immediately: that God’s name be hallowed and honoured; that His Kingdom shall come, and that His will shall be done on earth. They all flow from the first point: if God’s name, that is, if God is honoured, then obedience flows. I honour the Queen and Parliament by obeying the laws that are passed in this land. My actions are directly linked to the authorities before which I submit.

Praying for God’s kingdom to come, for His name to be honoured in Britain, is incredibly important. Jesus, who brought in God’s kingdom and began implementing it, targeted hypocrites in politics and the temple (or in today’s world, the church). Hypocrites in politics and the church. Sound familiar? Sound relevant today? How we need the Kingdom of God today!

In modern Britain, according to Cancer Research, about 1000 people are diagnosed with cancer every day. According to the Alzheimer’s Society, in modern Britain, one person every 3 minutes gets dementia. Jesus, who introduced the Kingdom of God, brought healing. How we need the Kingdom of God today!

In modern Britain, Crisis estimates that 230,000 people are homeless. Statista say that 2 million people use foodbanks. Jesus, introducing the Kingdom of God, established the Christian church, which over history went to the poor and sick, washed them, cared for them, and nursed them back to health. We are the inheritors of a Christian faith that has saved more live in history than any other organisation! The church launched health and social care in so many countries across the world! How we need the Kingdom of God today!

In modern Britain, it is estimated on a good Sunday that less than 5% of the population go to worship and ‘hallow’ the name of God. No wonder there are so many confused people out there. How we need the Kingdom of God today!

And this is what we pray for: Father! Let your kingdom come! Father, make your will be done on earth! Father, help us to be agents of your Kingdom! Help us to push forwards worship, prayer and care in this world, bringing it into line with heaven. The more people who hallow God’s name, the more people who love their neighbours, and the fewer people in hospital, in social care, and in need of foodbanks.

You see, the Lord’s prayer is not just spiritual – it is practical. Forgive us our debts says Jesus. Not sins: debts. Of course sin is like a debt to God, one we cannot repay, but as God has dealt with the sin and written it off, so we are to act likewise: be forgiving people.

Don’t encourage or make it easy for people to get into debt, and if they do get into debt, help them get out or look at how they can repay over a longer period. Do not exploit each other but seek the flourishing of each other! This is the Kingdom of God: it is not about profit, but about humans behaving as God made us to behave and living up to the calling God has on us.

Jesus follows the Lord’s Prayer with some examples and illustrations. The first can easily be misunderstood: it is not saying “badger God and eventually he will give in”. It is illustrating the point that persistence is respected and rewarded. If you really have faith, you will keep going back to God in prayer, and you will trust he is hearing and will act.

So, Jesus says, Ask! Seek! Knock! Persist and trust, for God has heard you! Rejoice that he has heard you, don’t be anxious about the things you brought to him in prayer – something is coming! It might be a direct answer, it might be grace to change you: but something will happen.

Jesus then illustrates God’s character. We all know we have good side and bad sides – even the best of us are compromised. Yet we being evil know that a fish is better than a snake. If your daughter wants an egg, you don’t give her a scorpion! If she wants bread, you don’t give her a stone and tell her “get your teeth into that”!

No, we faulty and wicked people can do good. So, logically, HOW MUCH MORE then does God do good!

And the gift God gives is the Holy Spirit – his Spirit to enable, embolden and empower us to do his work. God is a good father, who wants you to be filled with His Spirit, the Spirit who tells you more about how much God loves you, and how God wants you to follow him. His gift of the Spirit is a gift of being known: God sends His Spirit so that you know God knows you!

And if you truly know that God knows you, and God hears your prayers, then you become less anxious. I’ve prayed, and God has heard me. Hallelujah! I need not worry, for He will act, for He has heard, because He is a good father.

I may wish the answer to be different, but I will become less dependent on my own comforts, and more trusting that God does know, is all-powerful, and will lead me into abundant life as I pray “Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”. Asking for his kingdom to come is saying “It is not about me, but about God. Let my life glorify Him.”   Amen

Two sisters: Mary and Martha. They are one of the most famous female duos in history. We’ve all heard the lesson “don’t be a Martha, be a Mary”, telling us that Martha was flapping about in a panic but Mary sat at the feet of Jesus, listening. Mary did the right thing. Martha on the other hand…

Actually, Martha has been the subject of quite a bit of sympathy. A theology website pointed me to a poem by Rudyard Kipling called “The Sons of Martha”. I quote certain verses here:

The sons of Martha… “do not preach that their God will rouse them a little before the nuts work loose. They do not teach that His Pity allows them to drop their job when they choose.

As in the thronged and the lighted ways, so in the dark and the desert they stand. Wary and watchful all their days that their brethren’s days may be long in the land.

And the Sons of Mary smile and are blessed — they know the angels are on their side. They know in them is the Grace confessed, and for them are the Mercies multiplied.

They sit at the Feet — they hear the Word — they see how truly the Promise Runs: They have cast their burden upon the Lord, and — the Lord He lays it on Martha’s Sons.”

Mr Kipling is making a point. It’s a point repeated by George Orwell and articulated by the journalist Richard Grenier: “People sleep peacefully in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf”. We enjoy peace because the army and police are ready to physically protect us from bad people.

So why pick on Martha!? Mary can sit and learn and enjoy herself because Martha is feeding the disciples! Mary is neglecting her duty! Surely Jesus has this wrong!

We should always be aware of the context of passages, and the overall themes and concerns of an author. Luke gives us this story straight after the Good Samaritan, which basically says practical help is essential. The practical care you give to people in need is the proof that you really love God and your neighbour. In other words, in this context, Martha’s behaviour cannot be bad! She is not being condemned in this story.

We humans learn best when we are doing things. Actions speak to us in ways that abstract ideas do not. When we do something we learn far more than when we understand a concept. Indeed, reality is where many concepts (like communism) come undone. Thus when we serve, when we care, and when we give practical love, we grow and understand life and the compassion of God far better than when we sit and learn from a book.

For me, the experience of caring for sick and elderly people shaped me far more than anything I read about care. The experience of visiting the YMCA in my home town, and the Salvation Army in Moscow, taught me far more than reading websites or newspaper articles about poverty.

There really is no substitute for putting yourself in someone else’s shoes to understand their problems.

To summarise: Martha is not doing the wrong thing. She is serving, and practical action is praised by Jesus as evidence of loving God.

This week, a member of our church has been managing water engineers, lost keys and dealing with church security. We need people like her! People like Martha, and Jesus praises your hard work and commitment to serve.

So where is the problem?

May I suggest the problem comes from three areas. The first is attitude. Martha is judgemental and trying to control other people. She is jealous and frustrated. A humble person would look inwardly, asking “where is my frustration coming from?”, identify the source in judgementalism, and do a reset: thank you Lord that my sister Mary is having a rest!

Instead Martha is distracted, worried, anxious and troubled. This leads her to accuse Jesus of not caring that her sister has left her to do the work! She is bossing Jesus about, trying to manipulate him! She is ordering Jesus to tell her sister to help her! It’s very passive aggressive!

The second is Mary’s faith. Think about this: I’ve always seen Mary as a sweet delicate lady, but she is sitting at the feet of Jesus, like the men, in a culture where the women should not be doing that!

She is breaking social convention! Sure, Jesus is welcoming her, but she is also showing remarkable faith and determination to sit and be judged by those around her. I think Mary is the founder of ‘Girl Power’! She is showing faith and bravery, and Jesus commends her for being willing to endure social criticism for the sake of learning more from Christ.

And thirdly, Mary had recognised what our New Testament reading in Colossians was telling us. I don’t think the words can be said any better, do I’ll repeat Colossians: He – Jesus – is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

Mary saw the image of the invisible God sitting before her. Martha was too busy in herself, too wrapped up in her own serving performance, and conforming to others, to see who was actually there.

There is a difference between being a good host because you care for the person visiting, and going through the motions of care, but your heart is elsewhere.

So, Mr Kipling, you got your dichotomy wrong. It’s not a choice between Mary and Martha, the spiritual life and the physical life, between head knowledge and serving. It’s both, and it’s balance.

Lives of service to God expressed as love for your neighbour begin in spending time with God. That’s why Mother Teresa and the nuns of Calcutta prayed in the morning and worshipped before ministering to the world’s poorest and sickest people. That’s why worshipping communities of Christian friars often opened and ran hospitals, pioneering health care across the world. Their service began in prayer, worship and commitment to Jesus.

The spiritual life of prayer and contemplation, of learning from Jesus and of worship, must lead his disciples to service. Mary simply got the order right: learn and worship, and then serve.

Dear Friends,

 

Today is very special. Fr Glen is celebrating the Eucharist for the first time. Glen remains the curate of St Andrew’s Moscow. In a sense he is in exile here at St Mark’s. Until another posting is agreed, an absentee from his normal place of operation, we have the privilege of being his refuge. So dear Glen we rejoice as you stand as one of the newly minted priests of God’s Church. You may now, as a priest absolve us, preside at the Eucharist and bless us.

 

I want to say something about what priests do, on this day when it is particularly in the limelight, I want to say something about the Feast Day we commemorate, and St Thomas. And I want to say something about the Holy Spirit, whose particular graces are implored at a first Mass. As we get to know Glen and his background, his interests and abilities, we recognise how his character and his call are bound together. We realise that priesthood and personality are an amalgam of a particular kind. Just as all people are different, so all priests are different, even if they have a common call and set of tasks. This underlines that we are firmly in the territory of the Incarnation – where words are made flesh. Where call is lived out in the lives of real people.

 

Yesterday three deacons were ordained priest in the Diocese in Europe about 35 in the Diocese of London.

 

Amongst several other weighty questions they were asked:

 

Will you faithfully minister the doctrine and sacraments of Christ as the Church of England has received them, so that the people committed to your charge may be defended against error and flourish in the faith?

 

These are solemn words which have ramifications both for Glen as the minister of those sacraments and us as their recipients. What is offered from pulpit and altar, in equal measure, defends against error and for our flourishing. The Bishop says:

 

Priests are to be messengers, watchmen and stewards of the Lord; they are to teach and to admonish, to feed and provide for his family, to search for his children in the wilderness of this world’s temptations, and to guide them through its confusions, that they may be saved through Christ for ever. Formed by the word, they are to call their hearers to repentance and to declare in Christ’s name the absolution and forgiveness of their sins.

 

There are important echoes from a much earlier age, a time of threat and menace, when Jerusalem was on edge of capture. Habbakuk was a sentinel watching out for the fall of his people, standing on the ramparts, aware of the impending catastrophe as the Babylonians were advancing.

 

I WILL stand upon my watch, and set me upon the tower, and will watch to see what he will say unto me, and what I shall answer when I am reproved

 

So are priests called to watch over the people in the latter times, following the example of the ancient prophets, watching and waiting.

 

The constellation of priestly tasks, watching, stewarding, teaching even admonishing, is to ensure that the people know and are constantly reminded that Christ’s salvation is for ever. The repetition of the words of forgiveness, and the words of institution of the eucharist are so that there can be no forgetting that salvation is achieved, because we need drawing back from the desert not only of temptations but the wilderness of despair, where it is all too easy to linger.

 

The Bishop continues:

 

Priests are to preside at the Lord’s table and lead God’s people in worship, offering with them a spiritual sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. They are to bless the people in God’s name. They are to resist evil, support the weak, defend the poor, and intercede for all in need. They are to minister to the sick and prepare the dying for their death. Guided by the Spirit, they are to discern and foster the gifts of all God’s people, that the whole Church may be built up in unity and faith.

 

This calling is rooted in primitive notions of sacrifice, tempered by the words “of praise and thanksgiving.” But sacrifice is at the heart of what is shown forth. Priests stand at the altar, and the symbols of sacrifice in the Temple are re-purposed, because they are so potent, and because, as John tells us, Our Lord’s death took place at the same moment the Paschal sacrifices were being offered. The old is completed by the new. The ancient cultic systems of sin-offering and ritual cleansing are sanctified by a whole new understanding of forgiveness and restitution, which took place once and for all on the Cross.

 

We might ask what: is the significance of St Thomas, in all of this? His encounter with the risen Christ in the upper room, eight days after Easter symbolises something of what priesthood can mean. Jesus had greeted the fearful disciples that first Easter day in the evening, and had gladdened their hearts. He had greeted them with peace not of this world, and had poured out his Holy Spirit. Peace, joy and the promise of forgiveness were Jesus’ gifts with the Holy Spirit that first Easter Day.

 

Eight days later, Thomas is with them. And into the midst comes Jesus himself. The sceptical Thomas is allowed his personal Paschal encounter. Word is made flesh, as the words Thomas has heard from his friends of the real presence of Jesus after his death, becomes real for him, in person. “Reach hither thine hand, thrust it into my side, be not faithless but believing.” Word becomes flesh, just as bread becomes body through a mystical and spiritual transformation of mind over matter. “My Lord and my God.” Thomas sees and believes and conveys in those simple words the crescendo of John’s Gospel. No wonder it seems the Gospel might end there. What else is there to say?

 

The first church historian, Eusebius, tells us Thomas moved East with his words of promise. From eastern Persia it is no distance to India, and from the north via the breezy trade routes along the west coast to the near ends of the earth and the spice lands of Kerala. There has been a Jewish community in Cochin since the first century AD and it would be imaginable that Thomas made it there to preach, and possibly thence to Mylapore near Madras or Chenai, where local custom claims he was martyred in 72 AD.

 

Poor Glen was ordained deacon on 18 July last year, the Feast of another Martyr, Elizabeth of Russia. I joked then that he would not be called to martyrdom. Little did we know that eight months later he would be packing his bags and evacuating from a place he knew all too well, to end up a refugee here for an uncertain period a white martyrdom of its own.

 

Your first mass Glen is not without the connotations of suffering, sacrifice and martyrdom as well.

 

I hope the reality that this is also by tradition an invocatory mass of the Paraclete, allows the red hangings and vestments of martyrdom to be conjoined by the red of the fire of the Holy Spirit.

 

On bended knee we have asked that the Holy Spirit’s uncontainable dynamism may be alive in your ministry for the rest of your life, as it has been at work in you for many years leading up to this point. We pray too for your friends in Moscow and not least Malcolm and Alison Rogers, with whom you shared ministry there and the many friends there or now dispersed. Malcolm continues to keep the flame burning in Moscow under the protection of the embassy. He wrote recently in a letter to The Times, reflecting on diplomatic developments in sanctioning Patriarch Kiril:

 

By imposing sanctions… the UK is playing into the narrative that the conflict in the Ukraine is a defensive fight for the survival of Russia against expansionist western forces that are set on destroying everything that is Russian, including the Orthodox Church.

 

In a note to friends since Malcolm says:

 

Please pray for relations between our churches and that St Andrew’s Moscow can continue to be an open door between Russia and the West, especially in the UK, while many other doors are closing.

 

You and I both feel it is important his words are uttered today, because of the role he has played in mentoring and supporting you.

 

Glen, your priesthood, as we keep St Thomas’s day is marked by all that you are and all that has brought you to this point. Your time in Russia has shaped and left an indelible mark upon you. We hope this priestly chapter in your vocational life job will be a blessing to the wider Church. Words become flesh as you utter Our Lord’s words of promise and salvation.

 

You will take bread and wine and offer them as a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. You have known sacrifice in the journey to this point, and it will be received by our loving Father who blesses all that is broken and poured out and who will restore it to us a hundredfold.

 

Blessed art thou, Lord God of all creation, of thy goodness Glen has this bread to offer, may it be for us the bread of life. Amen.

Naming someone is an extraordinary gift.  I wonder, who have you named?

We have three children, and we took much time in naming- what the names meant.  You know that name may shape who they are, how others look at them, and it will play a part on how they grow.  Names are important- I wonder why you were given the name that you were given?  What does your name mean, and what part has this played in shaping your life?

Incidentally, I am Robert- apparently meaning- famed, bright and shining.  I’m not sure if my wife would agree!

And so we come to the naming of John.

Now, let’s be honest, this was no ordinary birth.  This birth was promised by the message of the angel to Zechariah (meaning the Lord has remembered). A promise that spoke of Elizabeth (a name meaning Oath of God).  Extraordinary that Elizabeth, who had gone through the menopause was to conceive- miraculous with God, leading her to the place of joy.  We know of Zechariah’s disbelief of the Angel’s words, and because of his hard heartedness, he was unable to speak for the time of the pregnancy.  Elizabeth has since had a visit from Mary, the also now pregnant mother of Jesus, where we are told that John lept in the womb in the presence of Jesus Christ, and now John is to be born.

You can imagine the scene, neighbours and relatives all hearing the news that it was time for the birth.  Zechariah was still unable to speak and 8 days after the birth, it was time to dedicate this child to God through circumcision.  The naming of the child, and the child’s incorporation into Israel.  The general consensus was that he would keep the family name- that of his dad- all was set- Zechariah it is.

No- cries Elizabeth. No.  What’s this- most unacceptable. He needs to be called John.

So, all eyes now fixed on the Father- he will do what is required and stop this silliness.  Zechariah writes- his name is John- a name which means Yahweh is gracious, God has shown favour- and then having been obedient to the words of the angel, he begins to speak again.  Wow, these things were talked about all over Judea- what then will this child become, leading Zechariah to offer his extraordinary hymn of praise in the Benedictus, having been filled with the Holy Spirit.  That is the reading that we had tonight.

The Benedictus is filled with Old Testament imagery.  It is the outburst of joy and of praise, not only that Zechariah can speak, cheer, and sing again, but that John was born safely, and has now been named in accordance with God’s wishes- that Elizabeth is safe.

There are two sections, first, from verses 68 to 75, a sheer explosion of faith in God, retelling his story- his testimony.  A reminder that God is faithful, rooted in oath, promise and here is something of the fulfilment of that promise.  The second section is one of prophetic wisdom- sharing his insight, his hope for this child that has now been born. He will point towards Jesus, going before the Lord to prepare his ways- sharing wisdom and knowledge in the gift of forgiveness.  Pointing towards the cross and new life made possible in Jesus Christ.  The promise of God in our midst.  Light in the midst of darkness, and guiding us toward the gift of peace- the gift of the resurrection.  Peace be with you, says Jesus as he appears to the disciples.  Peace be with you.

Tonight, those being confirmed are caught up in this drama.  The God who has called you is faithful, and the God who has called you draws you closer to Jesus Christ in the power of the spirit.  The one who ultimately brings us into light and guides us into the way of peace.

May you continue to discern that calling- by name, that the Holy Spirit is at work through you, and today the Kingdom is enlarged as a result.

Amen

Recently I watched on television the harrowing drama Cathy come home by Ken Loach.  Written in the 1960s, it tells of the plight of Cathy, who, through a series of misfortunes, is left homeless and separated from her husband and children.  In the last scene we see her trying to hitch hike a lift to join her husband in the north of England but as we watch her on the roadside looking right and left for a lift, night falls and we are left uncertain as to whether she will get to her destination.

My reaction to this uncertainty was a longing for Cathy to get to her destination and reunite with her husband and an anxiety that she might not succeed and be left in the dark.  This anxiety and concern reflects the need we all have to have a sense of belonging somewhere and, as we learn from today’s Gospel reading, Jesus was no exception here.

When his disciples assure Jesus that they will follow him wherever he goes, he replies that ‘Foxes have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head’.  I detect a sadness here in not having a home to go to now that he is on the journey to Jerusalem.  This is not, though, the whole story.  In spite of his sorrow, Jesus then asks his disciples to leave behind family commitment in order to follow him. They must not go back to bury their dead or say farewell the living if they are ‘to be fit for the kingdom of God’.

It appears then, from this Gospel text, that a sense of belonging somewhere matters to us all but Jesus is giving greater significance to a sense of belonging in the kingdom of God.  To achieve that sense requires a journey that is not an easy one.  It is hard work.  As Jesus reminds his disciples, they will have to put their hand to the plough.  If we read on through Luke’s Gospel we learn that the disciples will be ‘lambs in the midst of wolves’ and cannot take any possessions with them on their journey.  They may be housed as a labourer or they may not be welcome; there are no guarantees.  Their task is to heal others.

Why does a sense of belonging in the kingdom of God require such sacrifice and hard work?  If God loves us all why does it have to be this way?  I believe that the sacrifice and hard work were essential for these first followers of Jesus because they were called by him to follow him on his journey to Jerusalem and death on the Cross.  As Jesus as the Son of Man had no home and was rejected to the point of death, the disciples had to share this situation with him.  If they could do this then this would pave the way for their participation in the glory to come when Jesus would rise from the dead to join his father in heaven.  Over the centuries, and in today’s world, many people, in recognition of this requirement for participation in the kingdom of God, have also given up a sense of belonging to hearth and home; some to the convent, some to the monastery, others to serve as missionaries, all to focus on their relationship to God.

This journey to Jerusalem reflects the pattern in the Bible of exile and restoration that reflects our turning away from God and his restoration of us that is rooted in his love for us. As Tom Wright expresses it in his book ‘Simply Christian’ the expulsion from the Garden of Eden was the first ‘leaving home moment’ and there follows multiple exiles and restorations.  He writes that ‘Israel’s multiple exiles and restorations are ways of re-enacting that primal expulsion and symbolically expressing the hope for homecoming, for humankind to be restored, for God’s people to be rescued, for creation itself to be renewed’.  He then goes on to write that ‘only by one last shocking exile and restoration can we go through the door to new access to God by Jesus’.  It is that particular journey of exile and restoration that the disciples of Jesus are being called upon by him to meet head on.

Exile and restoration is a pattern that has continued over the years in human affairs. The current refugee crisis comes to mind here.  In a milder format there is the theme of going away and coming back again which has been used many times by writers.  In childrens’ stories, there are two examples;  Peter Pan in the journey to the mythical island of Neverland and the return of the children home and Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz going over the rainbow and back home to the chant of ‘there is no place like home’.  There is a point to be made here though that, in these childrens’ stories, the message is that children need to have a home in which to grow up.  Once they have grown up then they have the opportunity to go out into the world to live and serve others.

We need not, though, dismiss childhood journeys into fantasy land as fairy tales.  There is more to it than that. When Harry Potter departs from platform 9½ he is going on a journey to defeat evil. Judy Garland, who played Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, said in later years, ‘Somewhere over the rainbow is not about reaching a goal, it is about hope’.  Similarly the journey that Jesus invites his disciples to share with him is a journey of hope.  Hope that we may all enter the kingdom of God.

As the journey to Jerusalem is about this hope, it is, as the Commentary on Luke entitled ‘journeys with Luke’ expresses it, a journey of recognition rather than a travelog. As such, we do not need a guide book, nor reference to distances and specific places to visit.  What we do need to do, as the Commentary expresses it, is to ‘turn our gaze to the fate of Jesus as he had to ‘set his face to go to Jerusalem’.  This is to share in his resolve to face up to what was to come and to face up to our own ups and downs in life. To keep hope alive as the journey to Jerusalem was a journey of hope for the glory to come.

So let me finish by saying that whilst we value home and home life greatly we can keep in mind that ultimate security is to be found in relationship to God.  As St Augustine wrote: ‘our hearts are restless until they find their rest in thee’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

From Galatians 3:26 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ
Jesus. 27 For as many of you as have been baptised into Christ have
put on Christ.

From St Luke 8:39 Return to thine own house and shew how great
things God hath done unto thee. And he went his way and published
throughout the whole city how great things Jesus has done unto him.”

Please be seated and wish me luck. It seems to be my brief at St
Mark’s to work with children and animals (whether live or biblical). And
so it is today, when pigs briefly fly and a special infant is named and
welcomed.

We meet today on first Sunday after Trinity, which this year includes the
holy baptism of Blake Adu-Nti. As his family and our congregation
participate in this sacrament of new life and admission to the Christian
community, we enter a long series of “Sundays after” – one of the two
periods known as Ordinary Time that form part of the Roman Rite
liturgical year. Today begins the stretch between Easter season and
Advent. Not ‘ordinary’ as in ‘without distinction’ but from the Latin
word for ordinal numerals that indicate sequence, not quantity (primus,
secundus, tertias and so forth). Named with a term for the type of
counting that emphasises relationship, it is a fit season to build on the
basics: to believe in God’s Word so lavishly shared over the great
feasts; to keep his commandments; to build up the common life of the
Church by spreading the good news. Today’s gospel and baptism
service remind us it is also foundational to denounce the devil. Your
spiritual health depends upon it. Your ability to navigate a chaotic,
violent, and uncertain world with any degree of sanity and equanimity
relies on it. It may feel to some like an outdated, quaint, possibly overdramatic
element of the service, so I hope to share some scripture that
may ramp up your enthusiasm when you are called to reply.

I must confess that the statement above lands me in an uncomfortable
place, for I come neither to deny nor to promote the demonic. Perhaps
the expression of possession in the Bible doesn’t align with modern
experience and world view other than that represented as fictional in
the arts and film; that said, the incidence in the Old Testament is also
rare – you can count its report on one hand. In the New Testament
numbers increase, but are far outstripped by reports of healing and
raising from the dead. Then, as now, most illness arises within the
physical and can be treated medically, as our gospel-writer and
physician Luke well knew.

On the other hand, if we believe that Jesus is the Son of God who
breaks into earth time and space to redeem our sins and bring
salvation, we are operating in spiritual realms as well as in our fallen
world. So neither too much, nor too little can be made of devils. They
are neither cause nor resolution yet must be taken into account. As
C.S. Lewis notes in “The Screwtape Letters”, “There are two equal and
opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to
disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an
excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally
pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the
same delight”.

One who decidedly did not cause them delight was Jesus. That could
be why the incidence of possession and casting out of unclean spirits
or demons peak in the Gospels, when Jesus walked the earth, acting as
a rain-maker for co-habiting evil spirits. At the start of his gospel, Luke
tells of Mary Magdalene’s release from 7 demons and there are several
others, such as the possessed man we meet today. Every time, the
tormenters recognised Jesus in the flesh and feared their ultimate doom
at his hand.

Luke tells us that for some time the Gadarene man had been possessed
by such forces; separated from home, family, city, his own mind, even
his clothes; he stayed in the tombs outside the city or was driven into
the wilderness; he was unnaturally violent and strong, uncontainable by
any physical forces of law, custom or restraint. The resident demons
were fully in charge, “Legion” in number and in name, relentless and
aggressive in driving the man to self-destruction – until Jesus landed on
the shore with his disciples and commanded the unclean spirit to leave
the man. Note how they recognised Jesus immediately as the Son of
the most high God, the one with authority to cast them into “the deep”
or abyss, a boundless pit and prison reserved for Satan and his hordes.
Note how they appear to defer to him, asking consent to enter a large
herd of swine as a preferable alternative…though the beasts
immediately launch themselves into a watery grave at the bottom of the
Sea of Galilee. Every last one. The swineherds charged with minding
the livestock valuable as food for the Gentiles and perhaps for some
less observant of Mosaic law’s ban on pork as unclean, take off in fear
and dread to report the loss. No doubt they pointed the finger of blame
at Jesus for destroying their livelihood and their masters’ property.
What in the world was he even doing on this side of the sea? Why
couldn’t he have stayed where he belonged? What will they do without
their pigs? They would certainly vote for eviction of Jesus from their
land before he does any more damage. Best take care, though, this is
a matter for the proper authorities to handle because there is something
scary going on here.

Meanwhile, the demoniac from the tombs is transformed. He sits at the
feet of Jesus – washed, dressed, restored in mind, speaking with his
own voice.

When the delegation returned from the city to the scene of the incident
to make their enquiries, they saw that the possessed man who had
terrorised the community for years, costing time and money in failed
attempts to control him, had been healed by Jesus in one brief
encounter. They were minus a considerable number of valuable swine;
they were plus one reformed character. It didn’t seem a good bargain;
there was no rejoicing reported…no whisking away of Jesus to heal and
preach and help others in suffering and trouble. Instead, we hear from
Luke that they were afraid. After all, isn’t it was normal to fear further
loss of power and possessions? To resist a different reality, fear a
future different than the one they expected? For it is difficult to
imagine any way to live other than the familiar. Better the herd of pigs
you know, no matter how devil-ridden. The delegation requests that he
take his leave, and Jesus re-boards his ship and returns from whence
he had sailed. For his plan to bring salvation to the Gadarenes was
already in place and God’s work could continue amongst the Gentiles.

How can that be?

The exorcised Gadarene wants to be with Jesus, expressed in Luke’s
biblical Greek as asking to be bound to Jesus, echoing the same word
as his would-be jailers earlier in the passage. Through the power of
God, a person restored to spiritual health is freed to live a better life and
counteract the swirling craziness of those around them. Even someone
once possessed by demons and demonised by society can answer the
call as disciple. His wish is granted in spirit, if not precisely the way
requested at the time. He is “in recovery”, and Jesus realises that
returning to full spiritual health means returning to dignity, voice and
crucially, agency. Only someone in their right mind can act freely,
without bedevilment, because divine love empowers without restraint.
God made us in his image and sees that reflected divinity within us, no
matter how obscured by demons like fear, greed, pride, addiction,
despair, and so on. All these dysfunctions are designed to separate us
from communion with God, disconnect us from spiritual health and
power, and exile us from the abundant life that awaits every moment.

Jesus reconnects the circuit by sending the healed man back to his
own house, his own people, charged with spreading these glad tidings.
Luke tells us that the new disciple did so, fulsomely, throughout the
whole city. I like to imagine that heaven has a good stock of Gadarene
Christians who heard it first from a man who overcame his devils
through the grace and authority of Jesus Christ, and the love and power
of God: a divine prescription in action. (And for those who fret over
different spellings or multiple possible locations, a chance to resolve the
matter – you know who you are…). In return, he fulfilled his
responsibility to bear witness. Here is Christian CBT in action, designed
to free a suffering sinner from repetitive irrational behaviour and deeply rooted
wrong-doing. In this way, we too can “put on Christ” and learn
to live in our “right mind” – or at least to be mindful of when our spiritual
health begins to suffer.

This is the precious legacy of Jesus’ outreach of healing and teaching
by vivid example in a Gentile territory, where he seeks out unfriendly
and unclean locales to appoint a former demoniac as his missionary.
This man had lived a truly miserable and debased life. Yet Jesus
sought him out, valued him, loved him specifically and personally. Not
only is the message one of inclusivity, but it is also one of boundless
hope. We honour our responsibility for this gift by coming together to
hear the Word, break bread and share the cup, wash Blake in the living
water of baptism whilst renewing our own vows. In this way, we “put
on Christ and learn to live in our “right mind”. And denounce the devil!
Thanks be to God for his spiritual healing. Amen.

What a gift it is to be called upon, with one day’s notice, to speak on the unexplainable mystery of the Holy Trinity of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. I might be being a little sarcastic!

I spent a few moments thinking “how do I explain the Trinity?”, but then remembered that is the pitfall of many a preacher.

The Trinity – God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, a unity in diversity; a threeness in one – the Trinity is quite simply beyond human comprehension, beyond the categories we have. It’s like the particle physics of quarks and Higgs-boson units meeting the general theory of universe creation: things are so complicated that they leave even the greatest minds baffled.

But while we can’t learn about the mechanics of the Trinity, we can look at the relational core. And in the core of the Trinity we find love.

We have the Holy Spirit, joyfully serving Jesus Christ, glorifying Jesus and bringing back the words of Christ to our minds and hearts. The Spirit seeks only to remind us of the truth and of wisdom, and to guide us back to the truth, back to wisdom.

The truth is in Jesus, and in the words of Jesus: he is the Word, the source of wisdom and truth. The Spirit, the fire of the glory of God, able to incinerate the universe in a split second, is in fact gentle, kind, caressing, leading us always not to worship of the Spirit, but to the Son of God.

And Jesus Christ, Son of God, begotten of God, of one being with the Father: Jesus Christ seeks not to exalt himself. He came from God, in the form of God, yet emptied himself, becoming like a servant. Becoming like a human, like you and me.

And being in human form, he humbled himself further, allowing others to hurt him, being submissive even to death on a cross. Jesus did not exalt himself, he served us. Again, the essence of Jesus is serving love.

So we have the Spirit bringing glory to Jesus, pointing all the time towards Christ.

And we have Jesus, serving us, calling us all back to obedience and loyalty to God.

And then there is Father Almighty, the ruling judge of the cosmos, rightfully able to obliterate the evil, sinful, rebellious humans that we are, we who have spat in his face, deliberately ignored his instruction, brought destruction to his good earth, and who abuse the likeness of God in our fellow humans: God the Father, who instead of striking us with judgement, came to us in love to save us, offering us – if we choose it – a way back to Himself.

Thus we find at the core of the universe not hatred, bitterness, chaos or randomness, but love. The Spirit who loves Jesus. Jesus, who loves the Father. And the Father, who loves the Son and Spirit: a Trinity of love that reaches out to us in love.

And love, in case you are unsure, is not the warm fuzzy feeling – anyone can have that. Love is sacrificial service. You know what love is when you sacrifice a night’s sleep to be with a crying child. Or you help wash and clean a dying parent to make them more comfortable. Love leads us to make uncomfortable sacrifices. And the ultimate sacrifice was Christ on the cross, giving his pure life to ransom us from the consequences of our choices.

On the front of your service sheets, you will see a picture of Andrei Rublev’s famous icon from the 1400s. The chaplain in Moscow loves this icon, and gave me a little picture of it, and when we sat discussing our plans for the week, we sat under a copy of the icon.

It shows three angels but represents a picture of the Trinity. You see them all nodding towards one another: Christ and the Holy Spirit bringing glory to God: yet God giving glory back to them. The icon shows the unity of purpose, of mind. There is no division or selfish desire in God.

Yet look at the shape of the two angels nearest you. Follow the line from their arms to their legs, and you see a cup shape emerge: one edge on the left, the other edge on the right.

And in the middle of that cup is the actual cup on the table.

We can’t escape in this icon the image of Christ’s blood, shed for you and for me. Jesus who made the great sacrifice on the cross, spilling his own blood, to save you and me from ourselves, from the alienation we create as we choose rebellion and not God.

So as we come to communion today, as we bring ourselves and our messy lives, our brokenness and our wilful rebellion against God, let us remember the essence of God’s love for us: his willingness to sacrifice and suffer to offer us a way back.

We won’t understand the Trinity intellectually, but we can know the love that binds God, and pray that we may have the grace to practice sacrificial love to our family and neighbours more and more. And as we learn to exalt Jesus and deny ourselves, we too will begin to reflect the love of God found in the Trinity.

Let us pray:

Help us Lord to understand the extent of your love towards us. Help us to repent of our selfish ways and follow you, and learn to live in peace and love, caring for the people around us. Help us Lord to welcome the work of your Spirit in our lives, pointing us to Jesus, who shows us how to live rightly and bring glory to God. Amen

I’ve lately been reading a book by Iain McGilchrist about how the modern Western world has become increasingly left-brained ever since the Enlightenment. We are obsessed with taking things apart to see how they work, and then trying to build them up again. It’s a very useful skill, but it is only one part of how we relate to the world. The ancient and mediaeval and non-Western cultures have been much better at prioritising the right-brain ability to see the bigger picture. It’s in the right brain that music, art, poetry and metaphysics flourish.

Every year when we come to the feast of the Ascension, I realize that we post-Enlightenment folk have turned a celebration into a problem, and it’s because we are so earnestly literal-minded in a way that our ancestors were not.

Rowan Williams quotes the novelist Anna Mason’s words: “There is a kind of truth which, when it is said, becomes untrue.” In other words, any attempt at expressing the inexpressible in human categories is doomed to fail. God is not an object in the universe and cannot be adequately spoken about in human language.

So what do we do with a story that attempts to describe the resurrected Jesus disappearing into the sky? First of all we should look more closely at what is actually said. The event is described in Acts as a cloud receiving Jesus, and in Luke as Jesus being removed from the disciples’ sight in the act of blessing them. Whenever we hear of a cloud in the Bible, we know that we are in the mysterious presence of God, especially when a cloud appears on a mountaintop, a place of awe and wonder. And remember that the disciples’ eyes are opened when Jesus blesses the bread at the supper in Emmaus – in the act of blessing, he is made known.

I think we can draw two conclusions from these accounts, using the imaginative faculties of our right brains. Somehow, when Jesus no longer appeared to his friends on earth, they became convinced that he was at one with God – that’s the cloud that removed him from sight – and that in his withdrawing from them he was blessing them. They tried to hold two things simultaneously in mind: Jesus is now completely at one with God, and Jesus is now actively present in the believers on earth.

Like so many things in the Christian faith, this is a paradox beyond the limitations of our modern minds. The Bible accounts try to put into words a sequence of events – resurrection, appearances to the disciples, ascension, the coming of the Holy Spirit – that cannot be laid out on a dateline. Taking them one at a time may help us to reflect and meditate on different aspects of our faith, but we mustn’t be chronological fundamentalists.

What happened on Easter Day and afterwards remains beyond our language and our understanding. What we have is an emptiness, an absence, of the slain Jesus in the tomb, and then a fullness, a presence, of the risen Jesus in the Christian community. Living in that new reality, the first Christians struggled to find ways of expressing how one led to the other.

As I am sure we are all aware, the stories of the resurrection appearances differ in the four gospels, and I am delighted by this. There is a mysteriousness that the witnesses simply couldn’t pin down. Each one told their own story in their own way. And I think that that richness and elusiveness persists in the story of the return of Jesus to his Father, and to the coming of the Holy Spirit. The whole experience was simply beyond the powers of description. Whatever it was, it was bigger than their usual categories of thinking.

But what the disciples knew for sure was this: they had been cast down into the depths of despair, and now they were full of joy and energy. They had felt abandoned and alone, and now they were empowered. They were transformed from a rapidly disintegrating band of losers into a new thing on earth: the Body of Christ. This didn’t come from an exercise of their imagination: it came from outside them. It was realer than anything they had ever known.

They knew this from their experience, not from thinking abstract thoughts. God had moved powerfully in ways they hadn’t been able to imagine. They could only witness to the changes that occurred in their own lives, as they accepted the extraordinary gift of the good news that makes the whole world different.

The Methodist writer J. Neville Ward writes of the Ascension that “We think of Jesus and God together now, to be trusted and loved, as indeed life is to be trusted and loved because it is God’s love expressed in time. All this is faith; no one knows it to be true, no one knows that it is not true.”

God’s love expressed in time: that is a way to think of Jesus’ life on earth, and it is also the way to think of our life in the Body of Christ. What God gave to us in the human person of Jesus, God continues to give to us as we live the risen life in our generation.

We don’t need to understand or explain anything in our left-brained way. We need to open our hearts to the right-brained vision of life lived in all its fullness.

So the keynotes of the feast of the Ascension should be joy and thankfulness. Nothing is taken away. God pours out the gift of the divine life not just on those who walked and talked and ate with Jesus, but on everyone who is baptised into his death and resurrection.

We observe the last nine days of Eastertide as a time of anticipation of the coming of the Holy Spirit. But remember that it is still Easter, the season of the resurrection. We don’t leave Easter behind as we celebrate the Ascension; we don’t put the Ascension in the past as we celebrate Pentecost. We are celebrating three different facets of the one divine gift of love expressed in time – love that conquers death, love that dwells with the Father, and love that empowers us to be the Body of Christ on earth.

The cloud of glory surrounds us too as we meet to celebrate the heavenly meal that unites us with the risen Lord.

You might have seen in the notices that we have our triennial visitation from the Archdeacon on Wednesday. It’s a mixture of pep-talk, Ofsted and gutter inspection.

Archdeacons don’t get the best press in the canon of English literature. Archdeacon Mr Theophilus Grantly, Rector of Plumstead Episcopi is described by his creator Anthony Trollope in the Warden as looking

like an ecclesiastical statue … as a fitting impersonation of the church militant here on earth; his shovel hat, large, new, and well-pronounced, his heavy eyebrow, large, open eyes, and full mouth and chin expressed the solidity of his order; the broad chest, amply covered with fine cloth, told how well to do was his estate; one hand ensconced within his pocket, evinced the practical hold which our mother church keeps on her temporal possessions; and the other, loose for action, was ready to fight if need be for her defence.

The Archdeacon of Hampstead is a rather different and more approachable character.

I hope you don’t mind if my sermon this morning takes the form of a letter to him, which I will ensure he gets. It arises to some extent from a set of online forms our churchwardens need to complete, and from the preparations for his visit, I draw in some thoughts about today’s readings as well so that the Gospel will indeed be preached.

Dear Archdeacon,

We are looking forward to welcoming you to St Mark’s.

Perhaps you might be asking us how we have fared during the Pandemic?

We might want to think about what we are discerning about the Church and its future.

We know that diocesan forms ask us to categorise all our expenditure in terms of Mission; we would certainly like a word about that with you.

There is a new General Synod, and there will be a Lambeth Conference this Summer. For the Church of England there is now a tight agenda in the debate and reception of the Living in Love and Faith process.

Looked at all together, what are the signs of the times and where might things be going? What does the significance of this moment in the Easter season spell for us as we turn towards what Jesus says in this morning’s Gospel about his departure, the character of our love, and the vision of the heavenly Jerusalem in the lesson from Revelation?

How have we fared in this two years? This feels like a provisional answer because time is yet to tell in some ways. But as the parish priest, I remember closing the doors on Mothering Sunday 2020, knowing it might be a little while before we opened them again, but not guessing it would be anything like as long as it was to be. I felt perplexed, numb, fearful, and very sad. To think that a place of gathering, of refuge, of hope and communion, could be a place of danger, of infection and harm. Perhaps it is fruitless to regret the interdict, which meant clergy were explicitly banned from tolling their bells at times of prayer or even entering their churches. Did hope escape us? Was there a hesitation from our hierarchy when we most needed it? Thank goodness in the months that followed, when easing meant cautious return, and local decision-making was empowered again, that sense of super-caution dissipated. And hurrah, we were allowed to meet again. On that July Sunday, as we opened the doors ceremoniously once more, the utter joy of seeing friendly smiling faithful faces was the most deeply moving gift. In that time of terrible suffering, we lost virtually no one, but the shock, the remoteness, the pain of separation has left a mark. There was so little with which to compare it and prepare us for it. Not to have known trauma is not to have been human. All the more real the joy of return. All the more real the celebration of togetherness. Our virtual life was not bad, indeed aspects were fun, imagination was remarkable and we did not give up our coming together. We have been strengthened by it, tested in the fire perhaps, but so grateful for our return.

What have we learned about God, what has he taught us? Perhaps most signally that we are not as supreme as we might think. A virus of microscopic proportions has placed the life of the world on hold. It has illuminated dreadful and growing injustice at all levels of society. It has caused us to think of ourselves in relationship with others, and to value human relations more than ever.

As churches return to their former patterns or discover new ones, we realise that the Church itself is thinking again about its life and order. What is essential; what is extraneous. We cannot claim revival, we know we have been “the only show in Town” for much of the time since July 2020 when things re-opened, and healthier numbers may be a positive spin-off of that. But the fact people wanted to come to church, and were open to unusual innovations like garden micro-matins on the Sundays we were shut or when people did not want to gather inside, was an encouragement. When we could not sing, wow were were grateful for professional singers who could, and not least when two singers in one household standing together but at long distance from others in a big church meant for a bigger choir!

We find ourselves in this new moment completing forms which ask about Mission. It was quite hard to do this because worship and maintenance, all costly parts of our budget were separated out from mission – when we view them as at its core. Beautiful worship speaks to the soul, it invites, challenges, soothes, encourages – in short it does all the things we think Jesus told his disciples to do. It is an invitation. The mass itself derives from words which give us mission Ite missa est. When we are dismissed in the peace of Christ at the end of the Mass, we are missionised. That is what the term mass means. Dismissed – sent out into the world to share the Good News, which is encapsulated in our worship. Why have segmented mission from worship, or even from maintenance. This building is our mission. We beautify it and adorn it because from its heart springs forth our life. It is the well-spring of the Good News. Its spire is the confident sign pointing this community to God. Its bells ring out the wild joy of our faith and mark when bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ in this community, for the love of the world. Why cannot worship and love of this building be seen as missional?

We know that the wider Church is discerning God’s will in matters of great seriousness in relation to human and gender and sexual identity. There are to be debates and even decisions about this at the level of the National Church. We have engaged with this and our youngest ever preacher has challenged us to engage with not only the modern world but the younger generation in re-thinking how human love might be sanctified. Living in Love and Faith has been an impressive process. Might it not be cop out if in partial summary, and with liberal hearts on sleeves we admit that the traditional teaching of the Church about marriage must remain key, but perhaps cannot encapsulate all that Christians might want to say about human love. We can see that marriages do not always reflect Divine love and some do die. Divine love can be seen in the commitment of people in their lives together. In the discussions which will follow, we pray for the Unity of the Church, and the subservience of human will to God’s will. There is more still to learn and discover.

This Sunday’s Gospel reading comes from that moment after Judas has left the upper room – there is a chill in the last words of the verse which precedes today’s reading – And it was night.

Jesus says “Little children, yet a little while I am with you. Ye shall seek me: and as I said unto the Jews, Whither I go, ye cannot come; so now I say to you. A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another.”

Archdeacon, please know from the parish priest at St Mark’s, as we turn to Ascension that this community loves one another. They do so with tremendous care and tenderness and acceptance. Our mission is to live by word and sacrament, to be sustained by prayer and worship, and to extend God’s love into this community by loving service and a simple welcome.

We know that our attempts to be disciples fail, and we are beset with human frailty and personal shortcomings, but yearn for “the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.” As John depicts it.

In the Gospel, love that is shared, as Jesus says, is his legacy, as he departs: By this all will know you are my disciples. His remaining love is typified in the descending heavenly City. We cannot establish this by ourselves, many have tried, mistaking their human Jerusalems for the heavenly one. We pray that striving and hoping for that heavenly city may hasten its presence in our hearts and in our lives. Amen.

Today is Rogation Sunday.  In the Christian tradition, Rogation is a time of procession, praying and fasting that looks towards the Ascension of Jesus to be with his heavenly Father.  It is also a time of the blessing of the fruits of the earth. I believe that this blessing is important now for us to engage in at a time not only of the war in Ukraine, but also when  the farmers are struggling to make ends meet in the current cost of living crisis. In ancient times there was a swatting with branches of local landmarks to maintain a shared mental map of parish boundaries.

It is this last aspect of Rogation practice that I would like to focus on in my sermon today.  I would like to consider the meaning and purpose of boundaries.

Boundaries can be mental or physical and it seems to me that some boundaries are there for good reason while others are not.  A good mental boundary is one whereby a person listening to the problems of another sets a boundary on the encounter to avoid the wearing down of both parties and to allow for future stages in the dialogue to take place.  A good physical boundary is one which defines and beautifies an area designated for a shared purpose which benefits all.  An example of such a boundary is our stone wall that surrounds our church garden, adding to its beauty and defining it as an area for all to enjoy in a variety of ways. It is a hallmark of the value we place on it that we are endeavouring at present to have it repaired; a task which has not been done for many years. A bad physical boundary is one which does all it can to keep people apart in a state of hostility. With this in mind there was much rejoicing when the Berlin Wall came down in 1989. Then there are the bad boundaries that aim to keep out immigrants who are trying to enter a country having fled in desperation from war and want their own native land.

It is not always obvious, though, whether a boundary is good or bad. In his book ‘Tales of a Country Parish’, that recently had a very successful launch here at St Mark’s, the Vicar of Savernake Forest, the Reverend Colin Heber-Percy, refers to the writing of Simone Weil, the French philosopher and theologian, who was born in 1909 and died in 1943.  Simone writes of two prisoners whose cells adjoin.  They communicate with each other by knocking on the wall.  The wall is the thing that separates them but is also a means of communication.  Simone goes on to say that it is the same with us and God.  Every separation, he writes, is a link.  Following on from this line of thought, Colin Heber-Percy gives an example of the Prodigal Son who is separated from his father but then returns and the father rejoices.  It is, Colin writes, the separation that gives this text its meaning.  To my mind it reflects the eternal love of God for us all that forgives our sins and rejoices in our turning to him, particularly if we have gone astray.

It is this eternal love of God that knows no boundaries and is the overriding theme of John’s Gospel.

In the text that precedes today’s Gospel reading, Jesus assures his disciples that he will not leave them orphaned. He will, after his death, continue to live in them and they will live in him.  The Crucifixion, then, appears to be a boundary between us and God but it will fail utterly as God the Father and God the Son will come to the disciples and, as John expresses it ‘make their home with them’.  The effects of this are peace and rejoicing that Jesus is going to the Father.

Let us pause to consider what this peace offered by the eternal boundary-free love of God means for us all.  For the disciples, John goes on to say that they will receive the Holy Spirit to ‘teach them everything’ and remind them of everything that has been said to them.  He is also reassuring his disciples in saying what is to come in a way that will allay their fears of the Crucifixion.

This assurance will bring peace but not as this world gives.  The peace given by the world is bought at a price.  As Fergus King writes in his commentary on John’s Gospel, the so-called ‘Pax Romana’, that is the peace claimed to have been established by the Roman Empire, came about through ravage, slaughter and rape.  Today, peace and prosperity are looked for through the suppression of dissent, freedom of speech and even the curtailing of human rights.  This does not mean that people have never sought peace but they tend to seek it in a way that does not benefit the many, only the few.  Having recently refreshed on my studies of European history, it appears that the Congresses that were convened in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries failed to create a lasting harmony in Europe and the League of Nations that was the forerunner of the United Nations did not succeed either.  We remain therefore in a world where there is always a war going on somewhere which does seem to be a terrible waste of life and potential for the future.

Nevertheless, in this war-torn world of ours we need not give up hope for a better, more peaceful life.  There is hope to be found in many of today’s crusades.  The crusade for climate change and the breakthroughs that many charities have made following petitions to Government for a better state of affairs.  Then there is the hope that many people have given to refugees in offering their accommodation to them.  There is the quest for a deeper appreciation  of nature to pass on to new generations.  There are the breakthroughs made by medical research for the cure and prevention of diseases and so the list goes on. No-one can say, although it is not yet universal, that the modern world does not strive for peace in good ways.  It does, but I believe that we can help ourselves further towards peace by avoiding where possible any bad boundaries that separate us from each other in a negative way.  Covid has cast a deadly shadow across the world and there is a cost of living crisis but if we avoid bad boundaries and remind ourselves through prayer and worship of the boundless love of God then I believe we will win through.

To keep us on track I will end with the first verse of an eighteenth century hymn by Robert Robinson:

‘Come, thou font of every blessing,

tune my heart to sing thy grace;

streams of mercy never ceasing

call for songs of loudest praise.

Teach me some melodious measure

sung by flaming tongues above;

O the vast, the boundless treasure

of my Lord’s unchanging love!