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Worcester Chapel Oxford, Evensong. Sunday 25th May 2014

Job 19:6 – 27. Acts 8:26 – 39

“I wish I had your faith,” my husband Shaun was told yesterday, by a colleague

whose mother is dying. “But you can’t make yourself believe, can you?”

I wonder. I’ve often heard friends say they’d love to have faith. And if Christianity

is true, faith is infinitely more precious than wealth, health, happiness or any other

gift we might long for. So is it true that it really is only for the few, the elect, and

there’s nothing we can do about it? Or is faith available for anyone who wants it?

And if so, how?

There are so many examples of doubting disciples in the Bible that I found it hard

to choose our New Testament reading: most of Jesus’ followers at some point

struggled to believe. In the end I asked for the story of the Ethiopian ruler because

he goes from uncertainty to faith in five clear and simple steps. If he can, why not

the rest of us?

First, he does his research: we initially encounter him studying the scriptures. Contrary

to New Atheist propaganda, faith is not a blind leap of superstition, a matter

of shutting your eyes, jumping off a cliff and hoping for the best. It’s based on evidence,

as science is, as any decision is. So the obvious place to start is by weighing

that evidence. And by far the fullest, most detailed and most reliable history of the

life of Jesus of Nazareth is found in the Gospels. Ask any expert in ancient documents:

the four Gospels are far better verified, many times over, than any other

writings from the ancient world; and much more objective, for instance, than anything

we have on the life and achievements of Julius Caesar.

Mark is the shortest: you could read it in one sitting. Matthew is similarly accessible;

Luke too, with slightly more emphasis on the women in Jesus’ life. John is

finely laced with commentary.

You may feel you want more guidance. What’s the second step the Ethiopian takes?

Next he finds a teacher. “How can I understand unless someone explains it to me?”

He was fortunate: he came across someone who could. So are you. You have your

College Chapel, and your Chaplain; you have the University Christian Union; you

have a choice of good churches. If you want to know what Jesus’ taught and why, I

suggest you find a place of worship where Christianity is clearly explained. Attend

regularly for, say, as long as you set aside to study your degree? After a couple of

years or so you should have a fair idea of what Christianity is about, why Christians

believe and what difference it makes to them.

Thirdly, the Ethiopian asks questions. Always a good way to find out more. Test the

evidence. Challenge the thesis. Request more information.

Consider someone who has gone down in history for his scepticism, Jesus’ disciple

known as Doubting Thomas. The name Thomas means twin. I wonder what his

brother was called? Perhaps their parents couldn’t tell them apart, and called them

both Thomas. “Thomas, come here! Yes, Thomas, I mean both of you.” Twins are

used to mistaken identity. How often had Thomas been blamed for breaking his sister’s

toys, filching his father’s supper, flirting with a girl when he was miles away?

Overnight, the leader that Thomas had followed for years was executed and discredited.

Like all the disciples, he was plunged into doubt. Then his friends told

him some cock and bull story about their leader returning, alive, when Thomas

didn’t happen to be there. What would your reaction be? Especially if you were a

twin. Exactly. He insisted on evidence.

The critical thing about Thomas is that when he saw the evidence, he accepted it

instantly, and also acknowledged its implications. “My Lord and my God.” People

often say they won’t believe until they have evidence. Quite right too. But then

when they have the evidence, they sometimes capitulate and say it wasn’t the evidence

they wanted.

As Jesus pointed out to Thomas, most of us can’t have first hand evidence because

we’re not living at a time when first hand evidence is available. Do you believe in

the Holocaust? Of course you do. Why? Because there is good, reliable and credible

witness from the people who were alive at the time. And yet there are people who

deny it, so belief is not inevitable.

Almost all the decisions we make in life are based, not on absolute certainty, but on

reasonable probability. Shaun and I came here this evening by car: it was by no

means sure our car would get us here. I married Shaun because he told me he loved

me: was it guaranteed that he would go on doing so? When you leave here you’ll

make decisions about your future: will they be based on certainties?

Like any decision, faith requires evidence: but not inevitability. I can’t be sure Jesus

Christ is who He claimed to be. I can conclude that it is a reasonable deduction

from the facts. I believe, the most reasonable.

Fourthly, the Ethiopian took action: he asked to be baptised; he made a statement of

faith. Consider another doubting disciple, the father who brought his epileptic son

to Jesus. The boy’s fits threatened his life, often throwing him near fire or water.

“If you can,” the father said, “take pity on him and help us.”

“If you can?” Jesus echoed. “Everything is possible, if you believe.”

“Oh, I believe!” the desperate father responded. “Please, help my unbelief.”

Clearly he had doubts. But he was so keenly desirous to help his son that he put

them on one side and acted anyway. Faith is as much to do with behaviour as belief.

Behave as if you believe and belief usually follows.

Could you be sure that an unmanned rowing boat in an Arctic sea at midnight is

completely safe? Of course you couldn’t. But if you were going down on the Titanic

you’d get in it anyway. You’d be saved, not by any feeling of certainty, by but the

action you took.

The Ethiopian can’t have been sure about everything, still had questions, there was

lots he didn’t know. But he decided to give it a go anyway.

Finally, he rejoiced. He was happy with his decision and he let everyone know it.

If you want faith, I suggest you do what he did. Read the Bible. Find someone to

teach you. Ask questions. Make a commitment. Finally, celebrate!

And what do you do when doubts come again, as they almost certainly will?

I take great comfort from Job’s reaction in our Old Testament reading. The story of

Job is one full of uncertainty, agonising doubt and theological dilemma. Everything

goes wrong for him: he loses his vast wealth, all his children and finally his health.

Life could hardly get worse. His friends tell him it must be his fault. He can’t have

felt sure of anything, least of all the love of God.

But his statement of faith of nearly two and a half thousand years ago is perhaps

the most rousing in the Bible. He didn’t feel it, but he said it anyway. I know that

my Redeemer lives, that one day He will walk upon the earth and that after worms

destroy my body, in my own flesh I will see God.

Some years ago we were going through a very difficult time, here in Oxfordshire.

We lost our home, our health, our children’s prospects. Worse, it was the church

that was doing it to us. When you get that low, you don’t necessarily lose faith

because something convinces you it isn’t true. You lose faith because you haven’t

the heart to go on. Have you noticed that marriages often break in the face of tragedy,

I believe because couples just haven’t the energy any more.

One day, near despair, I said to Shaun, “What’s the point? God doesn’t answer

prayer. Christians behave worse than anyone. Why should we go on believing?”

“Look at the character of Jesus,” he replied. “Who else do you think He could be?”

I thought back to a vivid illustration in the Bible I’d had since childhood, of the

Good Shepherd gently carrying a lamb over His shoulders. I’d never felt less like it.

But I decided to keep going anyway.

Who else do you think he could be?

18^th May 2014 Worcester College Evensong Zechariah 4 : 1 – 10 Luke 2 : 22 – 28  

Thank you very much for inviting me to preach this evening and enjoying the uplifting worship to our Heavenly Father . Worcester College is the patron of one of the 4 parishes where I’m vicar parish of St James the great Denchworth a small village of about 80 houses with roughly 200 people. There is a very nice pub Fox inn recommend the food and a sweet little church.

Average congregation increased last year by 50% 8 à 12 9(last week 19)   Thomas Hardy’s sister Mary used to play the organ there in fact she was the school teacher the old Schoolhouse right by the church unfortunately the school is no longer active but as one of the ladies said in our annual general meeting there are a lot more young people and children living in the village at the moment. And one of our concerns and projects the future is to see what we can do in terms of Christian teaching children the village

Neatly leads me onto looking at our second reading today where Jesus is dedicated presented in the Temple and I want to look at what we can learn about family life from this event

there is of course a lot of debate about what family is. To narrow down the definition of family as just illustrated by Mary and Joseph & the little baby Jesus is very restrictive . The family is broader + inclusive nature so it could include the more oddball characters such as Simeon & certainly should include the elderly such as Anna. ( It is good that society is re-examining its treatment and attitude towards the elderly or they are part of our family) They deserve respect

What connects a family? Common blood type? the church often calls itself a family and we are spiritually connected by the blood of Christ. I was an Army chaplain and some regiments like to think of themselves as family regiment again the blood that connects them is their fallen comrades.

Not true – family members have different blood typesI don’t even think of family should just be defined as being connected by blood. Thinking of someone like Simeon I remember my parents often invite rather eccentric folk to share in our family life – one such stayed with us borstal young offenders correctional institution was supposedly a member of Hells Angel gang è Robin BOB Banks

but ideally I think what defines a family is our shared values, our shared experiences, and shared traditions.

we have some younger people as well as more mature/with us tonight each one of us have been part of a family. I hope it has been a loving enjoyable comforting encouraging experience à

It is a place where we learn and grow where love is shared where we can be ourselves develop our full potential

and there are two aspects from this passage which I think we can learn and which if we take note of will enhance all family life all life so that we can deliver a loving secure and stimulating environment in which to live

living according to God’s guide lines

4 times at the end of chapter 2 is expression when Joseph and Mary had done everything required by the law of the Lord.

What sort of people did God want to be the parents of Jesus Christ? Mary was described as joyfully obedient; Joseph as righteous, they both followed Gods ways

of course some people adhere very rigidly to God’s commands, others are far more elastic in their approach but God’s guidelines are very good basis (the best in fact) for family life

ð   10 commandments can you list them? Miss out 2 respect , faithfulness, honesty,

Many organisations have Core Values Army CDRILS                        RFU    Teamwork  Respect     EnjoymentDiscipline          Sportsmanship

 

10 è summed up by Jesus as LOVE

If you follow God’s guidelines properly you are more lilely to produce a loving character

When in a loving family the joys and love help bring balance & comfort in pains of life

Focusing on Jesus Christ

The focus in this story is Jesus

family life is about relationships – these relationships will be enhanced when ahave relationship with Jesus

because when we focus on our personal trust in Christ we personally benefit not only we can be sure of our past sins forgiven, our present purposes guided by his love and the certainty of an eternal future in heaven

not only but also we will start thinking of others and their needs and e ven the needs of our enemies society benefits

the family is important because it is the stable yet flexible basis of community. And whether the government is serious or just play lip service to the structure of family life, the church certainly should be encouraging and supporting this strong yet versatile set of people. The family may be a small unit but as Zechariah says who despises the day small things?

also broadens our horizons to take on Xt’s values for the whole world

SONGnot just the redemption of Jerusalem and the glory of God’s people Israel but

salvation of all people                                     

revealing God’s truth to all the nations    justice and mercy            compassion & kindness to anybody           purpose peace constructive & positive hope

XN AID -> song Tuimbe let us pray à Kenya street Kids orphanages Radio prayer programme

So may I challenge you whether à personal benefits or because you want our society to improve/ because you actually want to help the whole world not despise the day of small things but learn from Christ

Follow God’s guidelines and

Focus on Jesus Christ

 

11 May 2014   (3^rd Sunday after Easter)

 

 

‘What we call the beginning is often the end

And to make an end is often to make a beginning…’

 

These frequently cited words from Eliot’s ‘Little Gidding’ create a useful introduction for this sermon. I want us to reflect together on ‘beginnings and endings’ –   prompted in part because several here tonight are approaching one ‘ending’ and another ‘beginning’ after this term – whether as choir member, chorister, choir parent, graduate or undergraduate.   Our lives are punctuated by innumerable ‘beginnings’ and ‘endings’: our first and last days at school, beginnings and endings of significant friendships, the start and completion of tertiary education or of a particular job.

                In Chapel over the last two weeks we have also been made aware of beginnings and endings of two books in the Bible. In Week One it was the Gospel of Mark, when the Chaplain reminded us that Mark ends as it started – north of Jerusalem, in Galilee, first with the call then with the commissioning of the disciples. Last week the Vicar of St Mary’s reminded us that the beginning and ending of John’s Gospel offered a similar inclusio – the focus on Peter, especially on Jesus’ words to Peter at the beginning and the end of the Gospel: ‘Follow me’. The Gospel of Matthew has a different inclusio: at the beginning we read that Mary will name her newborn ‘Emmanuel’, ‘God with us’, and at the end the very last words are of Jesus telling his disciples ‘I will be with you always, to the end of time’.   Luke’s Gospel is perhaps the most appropriate of all for this sermon: it starts with the priest Zechariah, alone in the Temple, being promised a son, John the Baptist, and the Gospel also ends in the Temple: the last verse tells us that, after the final resurrection appearance of Jesus, the disciples returned to the Jerusalem Temple, where they were continually, ‘praising and blessing God’.

                Individual prayer like that of Zechariah and corporate praise like that of the disciples is a theme I want to focus on tonight. I want us to turn instead to the Book of Psalms, and to spend some time reflecting on the first and last psalms of the Hebrew Psalter. (You’ll see I’ve given each of you a card which illustrates by word and art what I hope we shall reflect on together.) We heard Psalm 1, in Coverdale’s translation, sung to us earlier, where the choir captured so well the thoughtful mood of those personal reflections. We have also just heard an anthem which echoed the themes of corporate praise found in Psalm 150: I am grateful to the choir for illustrating these contrasting themes.

                Let us look at each of these psalms. See first just how similar in length each psalm is. Both can be divided up into three stanzas with two verses in each; not many psalms have this particular structure, so they mirror each other very clearly. They each have an obvious beginning and end: Psalm 150 is the easiest to see, with its ‘Praise the Lord’ at the start of verse 1 and the end of verse 6: I’ve represented this from the Hebrew, where in each case the word is simply ‘Hallelyu’   – ‘Praise to Yah!’. Psalm 1 also has a clear beginning and ending, in the Hebrew: as those who have read this psalm in Hebrew will know, the very first letter of the first word, ‘Happy’, begins with the first letter of the Hebrew alphabet, an aleph, and the very first letter of the final word, ‘perish’ begins with the last letter of the Hebrew alphabet, a taw. So two psalms at the beginning and ending of the Psalter each have their own clear inclusio.

But, you might well ask, what has all this to do with our prayers and our worship?   – A good deal, for these two psalms have been placed where they are in order to point to the two polarities of our faith in God. Let’s turn first to Psalm 1, which communicates a mode which is personal and individual. In a sense it is not even a prayer, because it doesn’t actually address God; the psalmist considers that an obedient believer can become close to God by quietly reading his word (here called ‘the law of the Lord’), but this also entails avoiding the influence of those who mock and deride their faith. (Look at how in the first verse, the verbs ‘walk/ stand/ sit’ suggest the increasing temptation to do so.) At the heart of the psalm the believers are compared to a fruitful tree by streams of living water; by contrast, the unbelievers are like the chaff after harvest time ‘which the wind blows clean away’. There are two destinies here: that of the faithful believer who is ‘known’ by God, and that of the faithless who do not seek to know God – and so are not known by him. Psalm 1 stands as a gateway to the Psalter, inviting us to explore, psalm by psalm, a life of faith lived out in this prayerful obedience: and as we journey through the Psalter we discover this is not actually a simple or easy process, for the life of faith is full of good and bad choices, resulting in difficult times as well as good ones. And although it is a journey which we share with thousands of others over thousands of years, it is also a journey, as Psalm 1 indicates, which each individual undertakes on their own.

Let us turn now to Psalm 150. This is a very public psalm, beginning in the Temple, or the ‘sanctuary of God’. Even without singing it ourselves we can almost hear the ‘trumpet sound’, the ‘lute and harp’, the ‘tambourine and cymbals’, and the ‘strings and pipe’. It is as noisy and jubilant as Psalm 1 is quiet and reflective. Ten times we are called upon to ‘praise God’; for the Hebrew worshipper would probably have reminded them of Genesis 1, and those ten calls by God as he brings creation into being.   If Psalm 1 focussed on the fragile fate of the individual, Psalm 150 emphasises the power and greatness of Israel’s God. If Psalm 1 looks inward as to how the suppliant might please God, Psalm 150 looks outward and sees the wider world beyond. Psalm 1 invites us, on a quiet and reflective note, to embrace the life of the faith for ourselves; Psalm 150 invites us, in exuberant tones, to focus no longer on ourselves but on the character of God: ‘Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!’

It is fascinating to see how these two polarities of faith have been captured in representations of each psalm in music and art. One of the oldest Christian illustrations is found in the ninth-century Utrecht Psalter, which comprises over 150 line drawings which interpret each psalm as literally as possible.   You’ll see the interpretation of Psalm 1 on your card.   In the top right we can just see the believer inside a ‘tempietto’, reflecting on God’s word ‘day and night’ (I hope you can make out the sun and moon in the sky above him). On the other side, top right, is, literally, the ‘seat of scoffers’.   Our eye is drawn to the middle of the picture where we might see a tree by running water; moving down to the bottom right variousdissolute individuals are being blown away by a strong wind which drives them into some sort of pit.  The imagery of the psalm is told as a story for the faithful: its message is about the significance of making good and bad choices in the journey of faith.

If you now turn to the front of the card, you’ll see Marc Chagall’s Jewish representation of Psalm 1, from the 1970s. Here the believer is actually in the tree, whilst the female figure at the foot of it hints at Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. A protective angel hovers above, apparently encouraging the reading of the Law which is depicted as the fruit of another tree. Again, especially with the Eden theme, personal choices between good and evil seem to be at the heart of Chagall’s sketch of this psalm.

Let us now look at the way in which the Utrecht Psalter has represented Psalms 150. In its typical brown ink sketch, you can identify the ‘sanctuary’ in the middle at the bottom, and immediately above it God is seated on a throne in his heavenly sanctuary, with angels singing his praises to his right and left. On earth below, musicians and singers stand on small hillocks and offer their own earthly praise to the figure on the throne. Look out for the lutes and harps, the strings and pipes, the tambourines and the dancing. The clamour of praises echoes from the page.

Turn to the back of your card, where you can see Marc Chagall’s depiction of Psalm 150. Some of you will have seen this amazing stained glass window in Chichester Cathedral, created when Chagall was in his nineties: the exuberance of the music is now represented by the fiery red background which is broken up by greens and blues and yellows. Look at the small figures and animals playing musical instruments and joining in the fun and jubilation. At the top is David, sitting rather uncomfortably on a donkey, playing his harp, and right above him is the Torah, reminding us, perhaps, of Psalm 1.   Everywhere is movement, celebration, noise: ‘Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!’ is the caption for it.  

It seems Worcester Chapel is the right place to be in which to consider the differences between these two psalms. For Psalm 150, we have the frieze to my right with the angels (Uriel, with a psalms scroll, and Raphael, Gabriel and Michael); they are singing ‘to thee all Angels cry aloud’, and the angelic choir of eight respond with ‘Holy Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts’. (This is the ‘Te Deum’ we heard tonight.)   As for Psalm 1, all over the chapel, on the friezes and on the mosaic floor, we have the contrasting examples of individual saints who, like the psalmist in Psalm 1, have learnt the comfort and the cost of the choice of obedient faith.

I hesitate, in the company of so many skilled in music here tonight, to say anything about the musical representations of these two psalms. Let us briefly reflect on Psalm 1: as well as the interpretation of Coverdale’s Psalm sung by the choir earlier tonight, I am reminded of Thomas Tallis’s sustained and reflective version of Psalm 1, with its title ‘The first is meek: devout to see’.    We might contrast such versions of Psalm 1 with, for example, Anton Bruckner’s and Igor Stravinsky’s compositions of Psalm 150, where we celebrate our faith together rather than reflect on it alone. One of the most vital and vibrant interpretations of Psalm 150 is the one by Benjamin Britten, composed for children at Britten’s preparatory school in Aldeburgh. The performance lasts five minutes. It starts with a lively dance, based upon the praise of God to the sound of the trumpet; this merges into an animated round of children’s voices, and ends with that forceful march to the words ‘O Praise God’. The Gloria allows for the unselfconscious praise of children, using various musical instruments as guided by the conductor. Perhaps one day our choir might sing it?  We have an example here already – the praises of choir boys represented on the alabaster lectern in the centre of the chapel.

But again, you might ask, what difference does all this representation in music and art make to our understanding of our Christian faith here, tonight? Again, I will echo what I said before:    each psalm marks out the complementary polarities of our Christian faith. The two readings we heard also indicated this. The Old Testament passage from Chronicles reveals to us something of the vibrancy of worship, where music and praise brings to life the words of the psalms; the New Testament lesson from 1 John, by contrast, speaks of the importance of reflecting not only on the written words of God but also on the living word of Life – Christ Himself.

There is however more to these psalms than just the contrast between personal prayer and corporate praise. Psalm 1 is about a faith which looks inwards, excluding the unrighteous from the congregation, whilst Psalm 150 suggests a faith which looks outwards and includes ‘everything that breathes’ in the purposes of God. Some Christians will feel a greater affinity with the more private and defensive faith of Psalm 1; other Christians will feel more at home in the world of Psalm 150. Yet others may be somewhere in between. But both perspectives are important: we cannot be sustained only by a private faith on our own, nor can we be sustained only by the faith of others. And between Psalms 1 and 150 we find both approaches continuously presented throughout the other 148 psalms, as we move from the personal to the corporate, from prayer to praise, and from the corporate to the personal, from praise to prayer.   So from Psalm 1 we learn the importance of a works-orientated faith which quietly meditates on the Word of God; from Psalm 150, we see the importance of trust-orientated faith which goes beyond the medium of words alone and through the power of music is celebrated so all might know about it.

‘On his Law they meditate day and night.’

‘Let everything that breathes praise the Lord!

 

Psalm 1

 

 

¹Happy are those

who do not walk after the advice of the wicked,

or stand in the way of sinners,

or sit in the seat of scoffers;

² but their delight is in the law of the Lord,

and on his law they meditate day and night.

 

 

³They are like trees planted by streams of water,

which yield their fruit in its season,

and their leaves do not wither

In all that they do, they prosper.

⁴Not so, the wicked!

they are like chaff

that the wind drives clean away.

 

 

⁵Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment

nor sinners in the congregation of the righteous;

⁶ for the Lord watches over the way of the righteous

but the way of the wicked will perish.

 

Utrecht Psalter (ninth century) © University of Utrecht

^{Psalm 150}

 

 

¹Praise Yah!

Praise God in his sanctuary;

praise him in his mighty firmament!

² Praise him for his mighty deeds;

praise him for his surpassing greatness!

 

 

 

³ Praise him with the trumpet sound;

praise him with lute and harp!

⁴ Praise him with tambourine and dance;

praise him with strings and pipe!

 

 

 

⁵ Praise him with clanging cymbals;

praise him with loud clashing cymbals!

⁶ Let everything that breathes

praise the LORD!

Praise Yah!

 

 

 

Sermon The Raising of Lazarus, Worcester College, 9^th March 2014.

Deuteronomy 6: 4-9, 16-end; John 11: 1-45

 

Jonathan Arnold

Some of you who were here for the Christmas carol service at the end of last term may remember that I had a special, and rather worldly, request for Christmas. I had told my children that I had asked Father Christmas for a new television to replace the scratched and old one that we had. Remarkably, the negotiations paid off and on Christmas morning we were all astonished to find a large parcel wrapped up in gold paper at the foot of the Christmas tree and inside there was indeed, a brand new television. What were the chances of that?

We are very pleased with the new TV but, as you remember from my talk, finding anything good to watch on it is another matter. However, the past few days have been an exception for I have greatly enjoyed the short series called ‘Thirty Seven Days’, a drama screened on three consecutive nights charting the days leading up to the First World War. I particularly enjoyed it, not just because one of my best friends was playing the part of Winston Churchill, but because it portrayed the response to the initial assassination and the subsequent diplomatic negotiations, manipulations, mishaps and tantrums that took place between Austria, Germany, Britain, Russia, France and Bosnia. These men, for they were all men (Kings, Tzars, Foreign Office Ministers and so on), acting with a variety of motivations moved the sequence of events closer to war by their conversations, letters, phone calls and telegrams. A traditional view of the war, I know, and certainly history ‘from above’, that is from the point of view of the potentates, but a narrative that, with our hindsight we know, led millions to their deaths, did these leaders but know it at the time.

Of course, it makes for gripping drama, as well as education, but as we remember, and commemorate, this year, the the First World War that began one hundred years ago, it leaves one sorrowful, once again, at humanity’s capacity for conflict. Focusing, as it did, upon the big names of diplomacy and politics, such as the Kaiser, Lloyd George, Edward Gray and so on, contrasts with another good series on the war, by Jeremy Paxman a few weeks ago.

Paxman’s series was characterized by ‘history from below’, that is, the story told from the point of view of ordinary people; people whose destiny had been sealed by the decisions of national leaders. Paxman revealed tale after tale of extraordinary courage, compassion, kindness and pride, as well as cowardice and corruption. Of course there are many stories of young men who could not wait to volunteer and serve their country, as Housman wrote, ‘The lads in their hundreds from Ludlow come into town … and there with the rest are the lads that will never be old’. One person who tried to help those who fought in the trenches was Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy, a priest who, on the outbreak of World war I, volunteered as a chaplain to the army on the Western front, where he gained the nkcname ‘Woodbine Willie’ for handing out Woodbine cigarettes as he offered spiritual aid to the fighting and the dying. In 1917, he was awarded the Military corss at Messines Ridge after running into no man’s land to help the wounded during an attack on the German frontline. But despite the spiritual and practical help offered by such people, many a parent lost a child, and some parents were to lose four or five sons. That kind of loss and grief is not something any of us would wish to endure. And what consolation can there be?

As we come to the last of the seven signs in John’s Gospel, we find that it is Martha who is need of consolation as she rebukes Jesus,’ If you had been here, sir, my brother would not have died.’ And here is Jesus’ answer: ‘Your brother will rise again’. ‘Yes, I know’, she replies. But surely that is not the answer that brings her consolation now. Likewise, in the first world war priests increasingly offered prayers for the dead, not prescribed by the Book of Common Prayer, but out of an acute pastoral need. It is just such a pastoral need that is presented to Jesus in this story, as Mary also pleads with Christ for a response, and Jesus shows great compassion. He weeps, and he performs the greatest of his miracles, reminding us, perhaps of the Epstein statue in the ante-chapel of New College in Oxford. The large disturbing figure of a deformed and bandaged Lazarus emerging upright, perhaps trying to walk. The sculpture leaves us wondering is his flesh is still decayed underneath the swaths of bandages. A gruesome rising.

What can we make of this last, and most dramatic of the seven signs, and how does it relate to the six others? Firstly, it is a remarkable contrast to the text with which we began this term. The first sign, the turning of water into wine at Cana, where Jesus’ wearily agrees to the request, rebuking his mother for putting him in that situation. But at the raising of Lazarus, we hear that Jesus considered Lazarus’s illness to be ‘for the glory of God, to bring glory to the Son of God.’ And Jesus even waits for two whole days before attending to the situation. Secondly, when Jesus does attend, he makes it clear that he is acting so that the people might believe that God sent him. The text is littered with this emphasis: Christ tells his disciples that Lazarus’s illness is an opportunity for God’ glory to be shown, and for Jesus to be recognized in glory as God’s Son. Martha acknowledges his as the Messiah and Jesus prays to God in order to show them that he is the Son.

We do not hear about Mary and Martha’s reaction to Lazarus’s return to life, but rather the reaction of others: some believe, some seek to condemn Jesus, as the narrative of the Gospel moves into the passover, the final discourses, and the passion narrative. Thus, the seven signs end, with their aim to convince the reader or hearer, that Jesus is the Christ, the Messiah, he is the resurrection and the life, and whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. Surely a consoling truth for those who believe, at least, in the long term – this is a God who has power over death and this final sign points towards the ultimate victory of the cross and resurrection.

I wonder how consoling this theology was to the grieving families of those who perished in the Great War. I hope it was. But I also wonder what help there might have been for them, and for those who now do not see their loved ones rise again? What is it that makes things better now? Hope in the eternal kingdom is one aspect of the Christian faith. Creating a new and better reality in the present is another. Faith in the risen Christ, which this seventh sign points to, is the means by which we can receive the strength of God’s grace to see a new future in this world, and although we may not have seen a world war since 1945, 2015 might be the first year that Britain has been not been formally engaged militarily in another country for 100 years. If, that is, we are not involved in Ukraine and Crimea.

I think the Old Testament reading tonight offers us a passion and a hope for our future, in the commands and promises of God. Moses tells the Israelites: ‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. ^*5You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. ⁶Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. ⁷Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. ⁸Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem^* on your forehead, ⁹and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.’

Such a strong instruction is a response to a loving and supreme God, but the love of God towards us, and his command to love can be easily forgotten, unless it is accepted, practised and employed, unless we keep them it our hearts, teach it to our children in all situations, bind it to our hands, our heads, our houses or our gateposts. If we do this, and allow God’s grace to be absorbed into our beings, we have hope of changing ourselves and our world around us. By this, we ourselves become the signs of God’s presence in the world, and God’s work, his love, shines through us to become a sign of hope in the world. Forget it, and we open the possibility of hell on earth. If that happens, then we can only await a better future after death, where every tear shall be wiped away.