Category: Sermons

‘So I draw a veil over Mr Ramesh who once, on the feast of St Simon and St Jude (Choral Evensong at six, daily services at the customary hour), put make-up on his eyes and bells on his ankles, and naked except for his little belt danced in the back room of the shop with a tambourine’.

Alan Bennett’s Bed Among the Lentils tells the story of Susan, a Yorkshire vicar’s wife who, caught between her husband’s appallingly glib piety and his parishioners’ fervent self-righteousness, turns quietly to drink. She disgraces herself over lunch with the Bishop, collapses while arranging flowers in the chancel, and only finds redemption, rather unpredictably, in the arms of the young Asian shopkeeper, Mr Ramesh, whose sad wonder at her perpetual inebriation steers her towards sobriety.

Why Alan Bennett chooses today’s feast as the date of a particularly memorable encounter between the vicar’s wife and the obliging shopkeeper is unclear. Bennett well remembers the eccentricities of his Anglican upbringing, of course, and it may be that Simon and Jude are simply names he recalls from some far-off Sunday evening spent flicking through the Prayer Book during a dull sermon. Or it may be that he relishes the sonorous resonance of the double celebration’s title, and the delicious contrast that is inexorably drawn between the solemnity of its Choral Evensong and the unlikely liaison that is taking place simultaneously in the upstairs storeroom of a little shop behind the Leeds Infirmary.

However I am enough of a fan of his to suspect that something else is at work. Alan Bennett has a sublime gift for taking the ordinary and making of it something extraordinary: the trams of his boyhood, his father’s butcher’s shop, the hellfire and damnation of his Sunday School, the genteel pretensions of his aunties. In the looking glass of his writing these become the narratives of our own lives and in his words we see ourselves as this remorseless observer of humanity sees us. As we shall see, he could not have chosen a more appropriate feast than today’s. Perhaps it’s a coincidence. Well, perhaps.

It is customary that the Collect for a Saint’s Day should at least name the saint who it honours. It is customary for the lectionary readings for a Saint’s Day to present some edifying glimpse of the said saint’s life and work. Yet cast your eyes over the Collect for today; scan the readings set, and you will find no trace at all of Simon and Jude. There are paeans to saintly virtues, and exhortations to us to imitate them, but the guests of honour are, as it were, absent from their own party.

This may have something to do with the uncertainty of those guests’ identity. They are honoured as Apostles, and both are probably both among the Twelve. Matthew and Mark list Simon ‘the Cananean’ and Luke ‘Simon the Zealot’, which tells us something about Simon’s Israelite nationalism. Jude is listed by Luke as the son of James. Matthew and Mark do not list him: they both name Thaddaeus, or Lebbaeus, instead. Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters, never fond of untidiness, honour a conglomeration of the two: St Jude Thaddaeus, a compromise of which Anglicans ought to be proud.

What seems beyond controversy is that both Simon and Jude had namesakes among their fellow apostles who were destined for greater fame – or greater infamy – than were they. Simon the Zealot, of course, was to languish in the shadow cast by Simon the Rock; Judas son of James in that cast by Judas Iscariot. The result is that today we honour third-tier apostles, bargain basement apostles, apostles of whom we know nothing but their names. In fact the Church’s nervousness about Judas Iscariot’s sin was such that it robbed the other Judas of even that small dignity, shortening his name and labelling him Jude for all eternity. It is little wonder that the poor man has ended up appearing in the columns of the Daily Telegraph as the patron saint of lost causes.

So why are we here? We have so little to go on, such tiny biographical detail, such tangled historical roots. Does celebrating unknown saints really matter? Ought we not be proclaiming the Gospel instead?

The reason that the saints survived in the Church of England through the rigours of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries is that the Reformers saw in them useful role models for the instruction of the faithful. According to this standard, Simon and Jude are less than fit for purpose. We can point to no feats of endurance, no words of wise counsel, no selfless example that might shape our lives of faith. Yet if we honour only those who are of use to us; if we respect only those who give to us; if we celebrate only those who add value to our existence, then we do not see humanity as God sees it. We celebrate Simon and Jude because they are Simon and Jude, our distant and unseen forebears in faith. We need no other reason than that. Perhaps our celebrating them will affect our view of countless others around us, whose names we know, whose names we do not know, yet with whom we share this planet, this city, and this building, who appear to give us nothing.

Perhaps it will also transform our view of what we need to know about one another. We would all want to resist the notion that life in the West in 2007 is cheap, yet I wonder whether our resistance would withstand much examination. The voracious appetite for scandal is such that popular culture parades the lives of its celebrities in stomach-churning detail; the voracious appetite for gratification is such that poor women from Eastern Europe are trafficked in huge numbers to fill London’s brothels; the voracious appetite for global power is such that the blood spilt in its pursuit is fast losing its power to shock us. We constantly presume to know one another, to possess one another, to buy and sell one another. Perhaps our celebrating two names will recall us to the sanctity and the mystery of life; perhaps it will recall us to the holy ground upon which we tread when we approach another human being.

And lastly, perhaps it will also reawaken us to the extraordinary vision of the God served by Simon and Jude, the alchemical God whose touch turns the basest material into the purest gold. It is this God who chooses Simon Zealotes as well as Simon Peter; who chooses Judas of Lost Causes alongside Paul of many Epistles; it is this God who chooses us today; this God, whose choice knows no limits and whose imagination knows no bounds.

‘That’s the thing nobody ever says about God’ says Susan, vicar’s wife and reformed alcoholic ‘…he has no taste at all.’ She means it critically, and after her experience of his church, few would blame her. But in God’s tastelessness is our, and the world’s, salvation.

Amen.

Rev’d Nicholas Papadopulos, Vicar of St Peter’s, Eaton Square
28th October 2007

Two weeks ago I was invited by the rabbi of my local synagogue to share in the last day of Succoth. Succoth is one of the three great pilgrimage festivals which all Jewish males are required to observe. The Feast of Tabernacles or Booths, as it is called in English, recalls the years the Jews spent in the wilderness in search of the Promised Land. In remembrance of this, Jews build booths – leafy bowers – in their back gardens and synagogues, and (in theory) live outside in them for a week, though in practice this is invariably commuted to the eating their meals outside.

The booths are flimsy structures, open on one side like a tent, and the rule is that you must be able to see the sky through the leaves. In my part of north London where there are as many synagogues as churches, you can’t miss the succoth – nor the partying. Because although the festival commemorates a time of hardship, it is also a time of rejoicing. The booths symbolise trust in God’s protection.

As you would expect from a synagogue in St John’s Wood, their succa was in exceptionally good taste, beautifully decorated with garlands of flowers and fruits. We stood around drinking tea and eating cucumber sandwiches with the crusts cut off. It was all terribly English, though ham sandwiches were notable by their absence.

The Jews perform this ritual for two reasons. First, to remind themselves of their vulnerability. None of us should ever take our life, our health, or the basic necessities of life such as food and clean water for granted. Secondly, to honour the providence of God who may not give us all we want in life, but will always give us all that we genuinely need.

From the gospels we know that Jesus often used the Festival of Succoth to deliver his teaching. With Jerusalem packed with pilgrims, he had a captive audience. So when we hear St John saying that ‘it was the last and great day of the feast,’ this is what he is referring to. Succoth is also the backcloth to tonight’s lesson from the book of Nehemiah.

Nehemiah, supported by Ezra the priest, was the leader of the group of Jews who returned from exile in Babylon to Jerusalem. You will remember that first the northern kingdom of Israel, and then the southern kingdom of Judah had been invaded and overthrown. The royal family had been executed; the city walls of Jerusalem and its temple destroyed; and thousands of Jews were deported to Babylon. After some 70 years, a group of exiles return and begin the task of reconstruction.

Babylon is located just outside Baghdad. In other words the Jews were in exile in what we now call Iraq. Today in one of the paradoxes of history, there are thousands of Iraqi exiles dispersed across the globe, and a task of reconstruction is facing them. But that is a subject for a different sermon.

From Nehemiah we learn that in spite of intimidation from marauding tribesmen the exiles work hard, day and night, rebuilding the walls of Jerusalem and the temple. Autumn arrives and with it the Festival of Succoth, and Nehemiah calls upon the people to celebrate. God has worked a miracle as great as when he led the Israelites out of Egypt by the hand of Moses. He has brought another generation of lost Jews to their promised land. He says:

“This day is holy to the Lord your God: do not mourn or weep. And do not be grieved, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”

If you saw the film The History Boys, or even better the play, you may recall the scene when the boys complain to Hector, their eccentric teacher, about having to learn poetry by heart. “But I don’t understand it, sir” moans one of the boys. “None of this has happened to us.” “But it will,” replies Hector, “it will. And then you will understand.”

You could make a similar claim for the psalms. Sunday by Sunday we sing the psalms in praise of the God who journeys with us throughout our lives, as he once journeyed with the Jews in the wilderness. And as we sing them, we are laying down inside ourselves a spiritual reservoir. The psalms cover the whole gamut of life, from birth to death. Marriage, childbirth, success, failure, smugness, desolation: it’s all there, including laments over the suffering of the innocent, famine, and injustice.

Not all the experiences may have come your way as yet, and perhaps some never will. I certainly hope none of us here ever have to beg for our bread. But sad and bad things do happen to good people, and how we cope with these experiences is a test of our maturity and stability. The psalms offer us a vocabulary with which to pray to God when words fail us. They did the same for Jesus.

‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ The words Jesus cried as he hung upon the cross are from Psalm 22. As he dies, he cries out, ‘Into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Again, he is quoting from the psalms.

So I want to say two things tonight.

First, reflecting on Nehemiah and the Feast of Succoth: we should never forget to say thank you to God for our life, our food, our health, for the little things of life as well as the great. We should never take any of them for granted. People who don’t say thank you are not very attractive. We don’t like it when someone doesn’t bother to thank us for something we’ve done, so we shouldn’t treat God like that either. We are all vulnerable people. Life is a gift, not a possession. And if we spend our emotional energy bemoaning our fate or being jealous of other people’s supposed good fortune, all that will happen is that we will end up embittered.

Secondly, we need to let the words of the psalms travel from our mind into our heart. That means giving time and energy to cultivating a spiritual reservoir so that when the lean times come, as surely they will, we can cope and are not overwhelmed.

I said I had two things to say, but perhaps I will add a third. ‘Let the joy of the Lord be your strength,’ says Nehemiah. St Paul lists joy as one of the fruits of the Spirit, and Jesus tells us that no one can rob us of it. As a society we are preoccupied with the pursuit of happiness, but overlook the gift of joy. You can rejoice even in times of difficulty and hardship, and it makes us strong. This is that truth which lies at the heart of Succoth.

I leave you with an old monastic prayer to ponder. ‘God give me grace to persevere with joy’. And to that prayer, may we all say, ‘Amen’.

Rev’d Robert Atwell, Vicar of St Mary’s, Primrose Hill
21st October 2007

A businessman was going to be away from home for a few days to visit clients in Europe. As he was saying goodbye to his children, he said to the eldest, who’d be about 11 or 12, that whilst Dad was away, he had a special responsibility to look after Mum and the little ones … in fact he said, ‘I’m hoping you’ll do your very best whilst I’m not here to do all the things I usually do.’

In Dad’s mind were some of the domestic chores for which he usually took responsibility; taking the rubbish out for the dustmen, loading and emptying the dishwasher each day, sorting out the recycling and so on.

When the man came home, after he’d given his wife a nice hug, a beautiful bunch of flowers and checked that all was well with her and with the children, he asked how the eldest had got on …

‘Well it was quite strange,’ she replied. ‘Each morning after breakfast, he went into the lounge, made himself a cup of coffee (I didn’t even think he liked coffee!), turned the radio on really loud and sat reading the paper for half an hour while the rest of us did all the chores!’

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, ‘Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.’

Think about this phrase in our reading ‘… that you may be children of your Father in heaven’ … I wonder to what extent we live out our own lives as a reflection of the life of our heavenly Father.

As you’re probably well aware, in this teaching, Jesus has been calling for a radical discipleship – he wants those who are serious about following Him not only to think differently about the Messiah, but to live differently as his disciples.

In seeking to fulfil the Law and the Prophets, Jesus challenges all who hear him to go much further than they’ve gone before. For instance:

Ø not only is murder condemned; now, so too are murderous intentions

Ø not only is committing adultery forbidden; so too now are lustful thoughts …

Ø and in the new Kingdom that Jesus is bringing in:

Ø we’re to love our enemies instead of hating

Ø to bless and not curse

Ø do good to those who hate us and pray for those who persecute us.

Whereas we all sometimes find our lives filled with rage, jealousy and hatred, Jesus calls us to a different approach in which gentleness, grace and generosity of spirit are what he requires.

Of course these are only examples, and we all need to consider for ourselves how in practice God may want us to reflect his generous love in our ordinary, everyday lives … but the key thing is to understand the principle … what He wants us to do is … , ‘Love our enemies, and pray for those who persecute us, so that we may be children of your Father in heaven.’

If we claim God as our Father, how does He want us to live in relationship with our brothers and sisters … some of whom, if we’re honest, we find it hard to like, let alone love! As we live out our Christian calling in the life of this institution, in our families, with our friends … how are we to be sons and daughters of our Father in heaven?

Immensely challenging! Most of us find it hard to live out our faith consistently in this kind of way. When we’re tired, when people don’t always understand, or jab away at our weak points seeking to provoke or antagonize … most of us I guess find it very easy to respond in kind when the going gets tough … someone starts an argument, we argue back, someone is vindictive towards us, we retaliate …

… but the easy way was rarely the way of Jesus … when the crowds mocked, he ignored them, when he was challenged he told stories to encourage them to think differently, when He was struck, He took the pain; when they nailed him to the cross, He prayed for them.

And before I finish, we should note that Jesus’s teaching tells us not only about how he wants us to live; it shows us a kind of template for his own life. He is the Son of His Father in heaven, and its to such a relationship of intimacy and love that he calls each one of us … and he longs for us to discover more of what that means, especially as we seek to reflect his love in a world that needs to discover it so badly.

Many people tell me that one of my poor daughters looks very much like me – and despite the fact that she has beautiful thick curly red hair and looks a million dollars – I do know what they mean.

If we’re children of our Heavenly Father, is the family likeness being seen? Jesus calls us to a radical discipleship, that his likeness, and his Father’s likeness is seen in us.

‘Love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.’

May God the Spirit pour His love into our hearts, that the likeness of Christ be seen in us, for His glory. Amen.

Ven. Andy Piggott, Archdeacon of Bath
14th October 2007

IT’S VERY GOOD TO BE WITH YOU THIS EVENING TO SHARE YOUR WORSHIP IN THIS REMARKABLE COLLEGE CHAPEL WITH ITS ORNATE DECORATIONS.

I WAS INTERESTED TO LEARN THAT DURING ITS REDECORATION IN 1864 THE FOUR GUILDED STAUES OF THE EVANGELISTS IN EACH CORNER CAUSED A GREAT DEAL OF CONTROVERSY, THE COLLEGE LIBRARIAN DENOUNCING THEM AS IDOLATROUS, WHILST OTHERS SAW THEM AS ABOMINATIONS. WELL, FORTUNATELY THEY SURVIVED AND SINCE THE RESTORATION IN 2001 WE CAN SEE THEM IN ALL THERE GLORY.

THE FOUR CREATURES TRADITIONALLY REPRESENTING THE FOUR EVANGELISTS ARE A LION, AN OX, A CREATURE WITH A HUMAN FACE AND A FLYING EAGLE AND THEY’RE TAKEN FROM THE FOURTH CHAPTER OF THE LAST BOOK IN THE BIBLE, THE REVELATION TO ST JOHN., WHERE THOSE FOUR CREATURES ARE AROUND THE THRONE OF THE LAMB IN HEAVEN ENGAGED IN CEASELESS WORSHIP.

IT SEEMS TO ME THAT IF THOSE FOUR CREATURES ARE REPRESENTED IN THE WORSHIPPING HEAVENLYHOST, THEY ARE PROBABLY TO BE FOUND IN THE WORSHIPPING CONGREGATION HERE ON EARTH, PERHAPS EVEN AMONGST THOSE WORSHIPPING HERE THIS EVENING.

LET’S GIVE THEM A LITTLE MORE THOUGHT. FIRST THERE ARE THE LIONS – I ASSOCIATE THE QUALITY OF FIERCE COURAGE WITH THEM. THEY ARE THE STRONG FIGHTERS OF THE JUNGLE. JESUS COULD BE AS FIERCE AS A LION. FOR EXAMPLE HE COULDN’T ABIDE HYPOCRISY. WHITE WASHED TOMBS HE CALLED THE PHARISEES – THEY SAID ONE THING & DID ANOTHER.

HE ANGRILY CONFRONTED THOSE WHO WOULD STONE A WOMAN TO DEATH. HE WOULDN’T BEND BEFORE THE QUESTIONING OF THE CHIEF PRIESTS & PILATE, & SO THIS LION OF JUDAH WENT TO HIS DEATH BATTERED BUT UNBOWED.

THERE HAVE BEEN MANY LIONS IN THE WORLDWIDE CHURCH WHO FIGHT AFTER RIGHTEOUSNESS. FOR EXAMPLE DESMOND TUTU WHO FOUGHT TO END APARTHEID. CHRISTIANS WHO SACRIFICED THEIR LIVES TO SEE AN END TO THE TYRANNY OF COMMUNISM. CHRISTIANS WHO STRUGGLEE FOR JUSTICE IN THE BASE COMMUNITIES OF LATIN AMERICA.

THEN THERE ARE THE CHRISTIAN LIONS FIGHTING TO MAKE POVERTY HISTORY OR SEEKING JUSTICE FOR THE PEOPLE OF DARFUR AND ZIMBABWE.

THERE ARE MANY LIONS ENGAGED IN FURIOUS FIGHTS IN SOME OF THE ISSUES IN THE CHURCH TODAY – THE BATTLE TO SEE AN END TO DISCRIMINATION BETWEEN WOMEN AND MEN IN THE MINISTRY OF THE CHURCH AND BRING THE ORDINATION OF WOMEN AS BISHOPS.

SOMETIMES THE BATTLES ARE TERRIFYING AS LIONS FIGHTING FOR THE RIGHTS OF GAY PEOPLE ENGAGE WITH OTHER LIONS FIGHTING TO DEFEND, AS THEY SEE IT, THE CLEAR BIBLICAL TEACHING. THE RORING AND THREATS ARE SOMETIMES TERRIBLE, BUT FORTUNATELY WITH LIONS, AS WITH DOGS, THE BARK IS SOMETIMES WORSE THAN THE BITE.

WE HAVE OUR LIONS THEN, & I THANK GOD FOR THEIR COURAGE. THEY’RE NOT OF COURSE ALWAYS THE MOST REASONABLE OR COMFORTABLE OF PEOPLE. THE PROPHET ISIAH HAD A VISION OF THE COMING KINGDOM WHEN, HE WROTE THE LION WOULD LIE DOWN WITH THE LAMB. ONE RABBI COMMENTED, PERHAPS, BUT IF SO THEN I DON’T THINK THE LAMB WILL GET A VERY GOOD NIGHT’S SLEEP – & NEITHER DO THE FELLOW XNS OF THE LIONS IN TODAY’S CHURCH – BUT THEN WE SHOULDN’T EXPECT SLEEP WHEN WE COME TO CHURCH.

I RATHER LIKE THE ACCOUNT OF FIELD MARSHAL MONTGOMERY’S VISIT TO A SCHOOL IN MY DIOCESE JUST AFTER THE WAR HAD ENDED. HE TOLD THE BOYS, “MY JOB IS FIGTHING. FIGHTING THE GERMANS OR FIGHTING ANYONE WHO WANTS A FIGHT.” PERHAPS, BUT WHAT WE IN THE CHURCH HAVE TO LEARN OF COURSE IT NOT TO SPEND ALL OUR TIME FIGHTING WITH ONE ANOTHER, BUT TO FIGHT INJUSTICE & OPPRESSION IN THE WORLD AROUND, AND TO FIGHT SIN & HYPOCRISY WITHIN OUR OWN HEARTS.

THE LION THEN IS THE FIRST OR YOUR GUILDED CREATURES FROM REVELATION & THE SECOND IS THE OX. THE OX HAS A GREAT CAPACITY FOR HARD WORK. IT’S THE TRACTOR OF THE DEVELOPING WORLD. IT CAN GO ON GOING ON, HOUR AFTER HOUR, DAY AFTER DAY, DRIVING THE WATER PUMPS, PULLING THE PLOUGHS WHICH TURN OVER THE NEW GROUND.

THE OX IS SO IMPORTANT THAT IT JUST MADE IT INTO 10 COMMANDMENTS. “THOU SHALT NOT COVET THY NEIGHBOURS HOUSE, OR WIFE, OR SERVANT OR OX.”

INDEED ONE OF THE EXCUSES OF THE PROSPECTIVE GUESTS IN J’S OPARABLE OF THE MAN THROWING A DINNER WAS, “I’VE JUST BOUGHT A TEAM OF OXEN & MUSTY GO & TRY THEM OUT. SORRY I CAN’T COME TO DINNER. J’S HEARERS WOULD HAVE WELL UNDERSTOOD. OF COURSE THE OX MUST TAKE PRIORITY. THE HARD WORK OF THE OX WAS THE ENGINE OF LIFE IN BIBLICAL TIMES.

JESUS OFTEN WORKED AS HARD AS ANY OX, TEACHING & HEALING THE CROWDS WHO NEVER GREW LESS, & EACH OF YOU MUST HAVE SOMETHING OF THE OX IN YOU BECAUSE YOU MUST HAVE WORKED LONG AND HARD TO GET HERE, AND LIFE AT OXFORD WITH ALL ITS STIMULATION AND FUN ALSO CONTAINS A GREAT DEAL OF HARD ACADEMIC GRIND.

CHRISTIANS WHO’RE PREPARED TO WORK LONG AND HARD WITH LOYALTY & DEDICATION ARE THE BACKBONE OF ANY CHURCH & THIS CHAPEL COMMUNITY NEEDS A GOOD NUMBER OF THOSE PREPARED TO BEAR BURDENS & RESPONSIBILITIES FOR THE COMMON GOOD.

CHRISTIANS WHO WORK LIKE OXEN FOR GOD’S CH & GOD’S WORLD HAVE THEIR HEROINES LIKE MOTHER TERESA CARING FOR THE DYING ON THE STREETS OF CALCUTTA. “I WOULND’T DO THAT WORK FOR A MILLION POUNDS “A VISITOR SAID TO HER. NEITHER WOULD I SHE REPLIED. CHRISTIAN OXEN DON’T WORK FOR THE MONEY, BUT FOR THE LOVE OF THEIR LORD & COMPASSION FOR THEIR NEIGHBOUR.

IT’S A HUNDRED AND FIFTY YEARS AGO THAT DAVID LIVINGSTONE GAVE TWO ROUSISNG LECTURES AT THE UNIVERSITIES OF OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE CHALLENGING PEOPLE TO FOLLOW HIM TO AFRICA TO HELP HEAL ITS SORES AND BRING THE GOSPEL OF CHRIST TO AN ENSLAVED PEOPLE.

MANY HEEDED THE CALL, AND AT GREAT PERSONAL COST. AT ONE TIME I WAS CHAPLAIN TO THE UNIVERSITY OF KENT AT CANTERBURY AND WHENEVER MY SPIRITS SAGGED, I USED TO POP INTO S. AUGUSTINE’S COLLEGE AND SIT IN THE CRYPT CHAPEL. ST AUGUSTINE’S USED TO BE THE MISSIONARY COLLEGE OF THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND, THE PLACE WHERE MANY OF THOSE VICTORIAN MISSIONARIES PREPARED FOR THEIR MINISTRY.

THE WALLS OF THE CRYPT CHAPEL TODAY ARE STILL COVERED IN PLAQUES COMMEMORATING THOSE WHO HAD GONE OVERSEAS. EACH PLAAQUE BEARS A NAME AND TWO DATES – A DATE OF DEPARTURE AND A DATE OF DEATH, AND IT’S AN UNUSUAL PLAQUE FOR THOSE TWO DATES TO BE SEPARATED BY MORE THAN 5 OR 6 YEARS.

IT MAY BE FASHIONABLE TO CRITICISE THOSE MISSIONARIES WITH THEIR CULTURAL PREJUDICES AND DOGMATIC ATTITUDES, BUT THEY WERE PEOPLE OF GREAT FAITH AND COMMITMENT. THEY PRAYED EACH MORNING DURING THEIR TIME OF PREPARATION SURROUNDED BY MANY OF THOSE MEMORIALS. THEY KNEW THAT THEY WERE GOING TO ALMOST CERTAIN DEATH AND YET THEY WENT, CONFIDENT IN THE LOVE OF GOD AND THE POWER OF CHRIST’S GOSPEL. WE MIGHT CRITICISE THEIR CULTURAL IMPERIALISM, BUT THERE’S NO DENYING THEIR COURAGE AND CONVICTION. CHRISTIAN OXEN WORKING HARD AND TIRELESSLY FOR WHAT THEY PERCEIVED TO BE THE COMMON GOOD OF GOD’S CHURCH AND WORLD.

IF THE FIRST GUILDED CREATURE IN S JOHN’S VISION IS THE OXEN AND THE SECOND THE OX, THE THIRD IS THE CREATURE WITH THE HUMAN FACE. I LIKE TO INTERPRET THAT AS THE CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENT LOVING. TRADITIONALLY THE AUTHOR OF OUR GOSPEL READING THIS EVENING, S. MATTHEW IS REPRESENTED BY THE CREATURE WITH THE HUMAN FACE AND THAT’S APPROPRIATE FOR MATTHEW PRESENSTS A JESUS WHOSE HEART AND HEAD LIE WITH THE MISSION OF TEACHING AND HEALING – IMAGINATIVE PARABLES CAPTURING THE HEAD AND MOVING THE HEART, GENTLE TOUCHES BRING HEALING TO BROKEN LIVES – INTELLIGENT LOVING.

ANY CHURCH NEEDS MEMBERS WITH THIS CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENT LOVING. I LIKE THE STORY TOLD BY THE ARCHBISHOP OF YOR, JOHN SENTAMU, BEFORE ORDINATION HE WAS A HIGH COURT JUDGE IN UGANDA DURING THE REIGN OF IDI AMIN & LIKE MANY OF HIS FELLOW COUNTRYMEN JOHN WAS IMPRISONED & BEATEN. HE WAS AT THE POINT OF DEATH, INDEED HE REPORTS THAT HE ONLY WANTED TO DIE.

IDI AMIN HAD FALLEN OUT WITH THE ANGLICAN CH & SO JOHN WAS VISITED IN HIS CELL BY A ROMAN CATHOLIC PRIEST WHO WAS ALLOWED INTO THE PRISON. NOW AT THAT TIME RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN THE ANGLICAN CH OF UGANDA & THE RC CHURCH WERE NOT CLOSE, THE CHURCHES OFFICIALLY HAD LITTLE CONTACT WITH EACH OTHER.

JOHN WAS STAGGERED THEN, WHEN THE ROMAN CATHOLIC PRIEST OFFERED HIM HOLY COMMUNION. “BUT FATHER YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED TO DO THAT I’M NOT A CATHOLIC, I’M AN ANGLICAN” HE TOLD HIM. “NEVER MIND, EAT IT” THE PRIEST REPLIED, “IT WILL DO YOU GOOD” & EAT IT JOHN DID, & IT DID DO HIM GOOD, IT WAS AN ACT OF HOLY COMMUNION, HOLY CONNECTION. IT CONNECTED JOH WITH THE WORLD OF SUFFERING HUMANITY IN THE GAOL. IT CONNECTED HIM WITH THE WORLD OF CARING HUMANITY OUTSIDE THE GAOL. IT CONNECTED HIM WITH THE WHOLE CH OF JX WORLD WIDE, HISTORY ONLY. JOHN MAINTAINS THAT THAT ACT OF XN KINDNESS ON THE PART OF THE PRIEST SAVED HIS LIFE. THEOLOGICAL NICETIES APART, THE CHURCH IS OFTEN CALLED TO FOLLOW THE EXAMPLE OF THE CREATURE WITH A HUMAN FACE. THE EXAMPLE OF INTELLIGENT LOVE.

THERE IS OF COURSE BOTH KINDNESS OF HEART & KINDNESS OF HEAD. KINDNESS OF HEART PLUMPS THE PILLOW OF THE SICK PERSON. KINDNESS OF HEAD ASKS ‘WHAT HAS CAUSED THE SICKNESS” KINDNESS OF HEAD IS AT THE ROOT OF THE NEW HUMANAITY – THE HUMAN CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENT LOVING – THE CREATURE WITH THE HUMAN FACE.

THE LION, THE OX, THE CREATURE WITH THE HUMAN FACE, THEN FINALLY IN HIS VISION OF HEAVEN S JOHN SAW THE FLYING EAGLE. SOARING INTO THE AIR, GETTING, AS IT WERE A GOD’S EYE VIEW OF THE WORLD BELOW. AND THE FLYING

THE EAGLE, I’M TOLD, HAS A NATURALLY BIFOCAL EYE. IT CAN AT THE SAME TIME HAVE A WIDE VISION TAKING IN THE WHOLE SCENE, & IN THE CENTRE OF ITS EYE ARE A BUNDLE OF CELLS WHICH ENABLE THE EAGLE TO FOCUS ON THE PARTICULAR, THE LOCAL. THE EAGLE CAN SEE THE SLIGHTEST MOVEMENT OF THE SMALLEST MOUSE ON THE WIDE EARTH BELOW.

JESUSA CHRIST HAD A COSMIC VISION. HE KNEW THAT HE WAS ENGAGED IN A TIMELESS CRUSADE AGAIST THE FORCES OF SIN & EVIL, HE WEPT OVER JERUSALEM AS HE SAW THE WAVE OF HISTORY COMING TO SWEEP IT’S LIFE & ITS TEMPLE AWAY. HE HAD A WIDE VIEW OF EVENTS & YET AT THE SAME TIME NOT A SPARROW IN THE MARKET PLACE ESCAPED HIS ATTENTION.

IN THE CRUSH OF THE CROWD HE KNEW THAT AN INDIVIDUAL IN DEED NEED HAD TOUCHED HIM. NOBODY ESCAPES HIS NOTICE & CARE FOR IN THE EYES OF J EACH ONE OF US IS SPECIAL.

THE CHURCH STILL HAS ITS VISIONARIES, THOSE WHO NOT ONLY SEE THE WORLD AS IT IS, BUT HOW IT MIGHT BE WHEN TRANSFORMED BY THE GRACE OF GOD.

OUR GOSPEL READING FROM THE FIFTH CHAPTER OF ST MATTHEW SPELLS OUT THE KIND OF COMMUNITY THE EARLY CHURCH WAS CALLED TO BE. PEOPLE WHO WERE VISIONARIES STANDING OUT FROM, AND ABOVE THE WORLD AROUND – THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD LIKE A CITY ON A HILL, PROUD OF ITS DISTINCTIVE LIFE, SALT OF THE WORLD BRINGING FLAVOUR AND TO ALL LIFE – ENHANCING WHAT IS GOOD, AND COMBATTING THE POISONESS.

VISIONARIES ARE NOT IN SHORT SUPPLY IN TODAY’S WORLD AND CHURCH. THERE ARE THOSE CONCERNED WITH CLIMATE CHANGE AND CHALLENGING US TO REUCE OUR CAPRBON FOOTPRINT IF FUTURE GENERATIONS ARE TO HAVE WHOLE LIVES. THERE ARE THOSE RISING ABOVE GLOBALISATION AND SEEKING TO REPRESENT DIFFERENT AND WHAT THEY BELIEVE TO BE BETTER VALUES.

VISIONARIES ARE EVER NECESSARY IF THE WORLD IS TO MOVE ON, BUT THEY CAN BE DANGEROUS PEOPLE TO BE AROUND, FOR ALTHOUGH THEY ARE STRONG ON VISION THEY SOMETIMES ARE WEAK ON DETAIL.

WHEN DEAVID LIVINGSTONE CALLED THE UNDERGRADUATES OF OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE TO FOLLOW HIM INTO THE HEART OF AFRICA HE HAD A VISION OF A STEAM BOAT DRIVING UP THE ZAMBIEZI INTO THE HEART OF AFRICA, THERE ESTABLISHING COMMERCIAL ESTATES AND PLANTING CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS, HOSPITALS AND CHURCHES. HE OMITTED TO DISCOVER THAT IN FACT THE GREAT RIVER WAS BLOCKED BY FIERCE UNNAVIGATABLE RAPIDS, AND SO THE EXPIDITION HAD TO TAKE A QUITE DIFFERENT DIRECTION, THE COMMERCIAL ESTATES WERE FORGOTTEN, AND A CHRISTIAN SETTLEMENT WAS LEFT TO ITS OWN RESOURCES WHILST LIVINGSTONE SET OFF IN A VISIONARY PURSUIT FOR THE SOURCE OF THE NILE.

VIRUTALLY ALL THE FIRST MISSIONARIES DIED OF DISEASE, PRECOMINATELY MALARIA AND THE BASE WAS SOON ABANDONED, MUCH TO LIVINGSTONE’S FURY, AND A FRESH START WAS MADE AT THE COAST AT ZANZIBAR.

HAD HISTORY STOPPED AT THAT POINT THE STORY OF LIVINGSTONE’S VISION WOULD HAVE ENDED IN TOTAL FAILURE, YET AFTER HIS DEATH MUCH OF THE VISION HE’S HELD CAME TO FRUITION – THE END OF SLAVERY, CHRISTIAN MISSIONS PLANTED THROUGHOUT CENTRAL AFRICA. AS CHRISTIAN CREATURES WITH A HUMAN FACE WITH A CAPACITY FOR INTELLIGENT LOVING PLANNED CAREFULLY AND WELL, AND WERE JOINED BY HARD WORKING CHRISTIAN OXEN, DOCTORS, NURSES, TEACHERS, PRIESTS WHO WERE PREPARED TO GIVE YEARS OF THERE LIFE IN TURNING VISION INTO REALITY.

AND THE PARABLE – WE NEED ONE ANOTHER IN CHURCH AND WORLD IF THE CHURCH IS TO BE AN AGENCY WHICH HONOURS GOD’S LOVE AND VISION AND THE WORLD IS TO BE CHANGED.

SO DEAR BROTHERS & SISTERS IN CHRIST, PASSIONATE LIONS, HARD WORKING OXEN, INTELLIGENT HUMAN BEINGS, VISIONARY EAGLES, GO ON WITH THE WORK WHICH YOU HAVE BEGUN, AND AS YOU GO, REJOICE THAT TOGETHER, LIKE THE FOUR CREATURES IN HEAVEN, YOU CAN WORSHIP TOGETHER AROUND THE THRONE OF GOD’S GRACE, SINGING, HOLY, HOLY, HOLY IS GOD, THE SOVERIEGN LORD OF ALL, WHO WAS, AND IS, AND IS TO COME.

IN THE NAME OF THAT HOLY GOD BE ALL HONOUR & GLORY, WORSHIP & POWER, NOW & FOREVER. AMEN.

Rt. Rev’d Dr. Tom Butler, Bishop of Southwark
7th October 2007

 

So we have come once again to that time of year when we think about endings but also new beginnings.

I know that for some of you the burden of finals still lie ahead and yet for others they are now just a bad dream and life has become a blissful celebration without tutorials, libraries, lectures and books. And yet, for each one of us, in our different ways, this is a time of endings: the end of Trinity term, the end of this academic year, the end of doctoral research and postgraduate study, the end of singing in the choir, the end of attending Evensong, the end of working in this place, the end of life at Worcester College, Oxford.

Now, before I get you all thoroughly depressed along with myself, let me haul you back from the brink with some words from T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets. In Little Gidding he writes,

‘What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.’

Thankfully it hasn’t happened this term, but previously, sometime during the Trinity term, gaps would appear in the front row of the choir. Of course, it was nothing sinister, just the natural progress of time as treble voices came to an end. When I worked at St Paul’s Cathedral, the clergy had this cruel tradition of having the hymn ‘The day thou gavest Lord is ended’ on the last service of term, which was often accompanied by the silent whimpering of ‘broken’ choristers. A devastating ending and yet ‘the end is where we start from’. Little did I imagine that one day, from the ashes of those broken voices one of the boys would be opening the batting for England and another singing bass as a professional singer, from an ending had come a new beginning.

And so for us, who dwell in this time of endings, at the same time, we also stand in the moment of new beginnings. For some of us this new beginning is obvious, defined and structured as we leave to begin careers, charitable work, further research, or a new job. Whilst for others, it is less so, less clear and must be discerned in time. But either way, it is a beginning, a start from which we grow and develop, just as we did when we were first freshers’ and probationers to the Scholars and choristers we are today. What we are to become is not always clear as maybe we would like, but perhaps that is a good thing for then we are open and willing to travel less chartered waters and to carpae daeum or seize the day. One thing for certain is that wherever we go we take with us all that has brought us to this ending, all that we are and all that we have learnt, regardless of our age and experience. In the fear of beginning to sound like a patronizing Polonius, let me turn to the words of Paul in his letter to the Philippians. If we wanted to reflect on what it is that we have learnt, what it is that we take with us from our endings into our beginnings then perhaps his words are our surest guide,

‘whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.’

And yet to know whatsoever is true, or honest, just or pure is not something we just wake up with one morning, just as a bass voice does not magically appear from the ashes of a treble voice, it must be discovered and learnt through the exploration of many endings and beginnings. As T. S. Eliot writes,

‘With the drawing of his Love and the voice of this Calling
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.’

Whilst Eliot captures the sense that life is an exploration, a journeying which deepens us and changes us so that we discover things we have known as if for the first time, I am acutely aware that, in this of all terms, his words also lead us back to the events of nought week, when all of us were reminded of our ultimate ending in which all our explorations will cease. For many of us Tsz’s tragic death was like a frost in spring, devastating, pointless and cruel. And yet through the faith of his parents, who with a white shroud put him to bed for the last time and the love of his friends, who spoke words which only echo in the silent depths of the heart, we were reminded that in the ending of death is the new beginning of life everlasting, where through the drawing of love we arrive at the point from which we came and know it for the first time.

In the Rule, which lies at the source and beginning of this college, St Benedict gives his monks a set of tools by which to fashion and cultivate a holy life. One of these is to ‘day by day remind yourself that you are going to die’. If you have a yearning for the church to be radical and counter cultural, then maybe this is it. Too often we kid ourselves that through medicine we can live forever, so much so that to speak of death is a morbid taboo rather than a precious reality. For St Benedict knew, in an equally violent age, that to contemplate the idea that we may not be here tomorrow, is to see today in a different light. Each day is as a new beginning, a precious gift to be savoured and enjoyed, each person is loaned to us for a brief time to be known and loved, creation is cherish with awe and delight, life is here in this moment in all its fullness and not just a future hope. In this light, life is not simply a round of endings and beginnings, achievements and successes, the next job, the new house, the title or the chair, sucking out the marrow of our lives with so called purpose before they come to an end. No, it is about life itself, it is about knowing and believing that in this moment is wholeness, all our endings and beginnings are one now, life has been given to us in Christ in all its fullness, the new beginning of eternal life is for us now not in the future alone, there is no pointless death or wasted life for we dwell in the eternal now.

What then, you may ask, is the end or purpose of life, if it is not to get the internship, to become the professional singer, to write the doctorate, to live a life worth living, if it is not about the obituary in the Times? Knowing that we stand in the eternal now, the end or purpose of our lives is that for which we were created and that for which we were redeemed, namely praise. For we have been liberated into the eternal moment and as such, become a song of praise and thanksgiving. A song which consists of the words of our endings and beginnings, a song which is unique to each one of us, a song which is not dictated by our explorations but which is shaped by them into our hymn of praise.

As you leave the Chapel this evening, as we come to another ending and a new beginning, may the words of the Jubilate which you heard read tonight and which are written above your heads as you leave, resonate in your hearts and be a light by which you explore this life and contemplate the next: ‘O be joyful in the Lord all ye lands, serve the Lord with gladness and come before his presence with a song’.

Amen.

The Chaplain
11th June 2007

It’s a pleasure to be here in this wonderful chapel of yours.

On this Sunday evening the lectionary invites us to reflect on what must be, I suppose, one of the most influential and yet, for the thinking Christian, difficult of New Testament texts – ‘Go and make disciples of all nations’, a text that is sometimes known as ‘The Great Commission’.

More than any other this text has, down the centuries, defined Christianity as a missionary religion. It has been heard as a stirring command from Christ himself, and so has helped to foster in the church a crusading missionary spirit which led, in the nineteenth century, to the foundation of the missionary societies which took the Gospel to “heathen lands afar”. This crusading missionary endeavour led without doubt to some great achievements in terms of bringing aspects of Christian care to foreign countries (one thinks of medical care in south India); but also this missionary spirit has led to enormous conflict with other societies and other religions, and untold cultural damage.

Recently we have become only too painfully aware of the dark legacy of that crusading spirit, and, now, arguably, we are suffering something of the blowback … particularly in the Middle East.

‘Go and make disciples of all nations.’ Two imperative verbs in a text that creates huge difficulties for the thinking Christian. But it would seem that we cannot avoid it. There it is right at the end of Matthew’s Gospel – the foundation of the church’s missionary life. And yet we know that this text, and the attitudes of moral and religious superiority that have grown from it, have spawned terrible violence and aggression.

The Great Commission … the inescapable call from Christ himself to evangelise the world … … or is it? That is what I would like briefly to consider with you.

I want to suggest that there has been profound misunderstanding of this text – caused largely by the way it has been mistranslated and consequently misunderstood. And I believe we simply have to unlearn it as we have received it. And that should be no surprise. With faith we need constantly to be both learning and unlearning. Learning and searching for deeper meanings, and unlearning the damaging distortion of meanings that we have received. And if we do this we may find that the original meaning of this text can be recovered, so that instead of it being used to promote our faith and cause over against their faith and cause – whoever ‘they’ may be … Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, atheists – it will point to a set of values and a way of being human that offers hope to all, whatever religion they may or may not belong to.

So let’s read and reflect again on these last words from Matthew’s Gospel searching for a more precise grasp of his hints, his clues and his language – so that we may arrive at a truer meaning.

Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. … And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit ….

The first thing to notice is the reference to place. I am married to a geographer, and I have learnt that where things happen is as important as what happens – that place really matters. Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. Here is the first big clue. The final meeting with Jesus and his disciples happens, he tells us, in Galilee, on a mountain. Galilee …? A mountain in Galilee …? Where have we heard that before? Where, Matthew wants us to ask, was there another meeting in Galilee, on a mountain? And what was said there …?.

By this allusion to place, Matthew is reminding us, as he approaches the end of his great work, of what lies at the heart of it – what its central message has been. He is reminding us of that great section which begins at chapter 5 and is called ‘the sermon on the mountain’. It is a sermon which begins with the teaching which is the clearest expression in the whole Gospel tradition of the way of Jesus Christ – the Beatitudes.

There in Galilee, on a mountain, Jesus of Nazareth taught the upside down values and virtues of the non-violent Kingdom of God. On that mountain he said that at the heart of the way of the Kingdom is not power and strength and certainty of conviction (those things which powered the missionaries), but … (remember the beatitudes?) … poverty of spirit, the capacity to mourn, a gentle mind, a pure heart, a merciful spirit, a deep hunger and thirst for justice, the courage to make peace. These are the values and virtues of his Kingdom, of his way of being human. So, by placing this last scene again on a mountain in Galilee Matthew is reminding us of them again, as he gives us the last words of the Risen One.

Then, having set the scene, Jesus comes to them and speaks. But before what we have come to call ‘the great commission’ Matthew puts in a preface – a preface which seems to underline the idea of great power and might lying behind the commission that is to follow: ‘all authority … Jesus says … in heaven and on earth has been given to me … go therefore …’

All authority in heaven and on earth has been committed to me. Here is the first big misunderstanding. Down the centuries we have understood authority almost entirely through the notion of power – power enforced if necessary by force. All authority in heaven and on earth has been committed to me. Notoriously in the crusades the Gospel was taken to Muslim lands with the cross in one hand and the sword in the other. Nearer to our own times, through the nineteenth century Missionary Societies, the Gospel was spread across the world hand in hand with all the political economic and military might of the world’s greatest colonial power.

That is how we have understood and still understand ‘authority’. But it is not how the Gospel of Matthew understands it. The Greek word ‘exousia’, translated ‘authority’ is in the Gospel not so much to do with power as truth; not so much to do with might, as authenticity. Matthew ends the sermon on the mount with the comment, …the crowds were astounded at his teaching for he taught as one having authority, and not as their scribes. He means he taught them with authenticity …with a kind of vivid reality which they had not known before and which went to the heart of them. He taught the truth.

So in Matthew’s mind – ‘authority’ is entirely de-coupled from notions of power and might. In this preface he is saying, that here, about to speak his last words to us, is, the Authentic One, to whom truth has been given.

And what does this Authentic One say? Does he say: ‘go and make disciples’? No. He does not say that. The Greek word normally translated as ‘go’ … as a commanding imperative, is a mistranslation. The verb is not an imperative at all, but a present participle – ‘poreuthentes’, literally it means … ‘as you are going along’, or ‘as you are passing from one place to another’ … that is to say: in the ordinary course of your daily life as you are going along …

… ‘make’ disciples??

Again, no. The verb ‘to make’, which has overtones of force and has so often been understood in terms of force – either physical force, or psychological force – is not there. But rather in the Greek, what is there is the word for a disciple now turned into a verb – and yes, an imperative … so the literal meaning is: ‘as you are going along, or as you are passing from one place to another, disciple all peoples’ .

The meaning is ‘lead all peoples – not just Jews – but all peoples into the following of, the discipling, the discipline of these virtues that were at the heart of my teaching: trust and poverty of spirit, humility and the capacity to mourn, gentleness of mind, purity of heart, courage in peace-making, the pursuit of justice, love of mercy … lead all peoples into this new way of being human … shape the lives of non-Jews also in these pathways of peace, these life-patterns of simplicity, these virtues of trust that I spelt out to you then – … and do it …simply … ‘as you are going along’ … as natural opportunities arise ….

So you see, accurately translated, the meaning is quite different. There is no hint at all of coercion here. And no great ‘command’. We are not told ‘to go’… not commanded ‘to make disciples’ in the sense that the church has so often preached. He simply says, ‘as you are going along seeking day by day to live the Kingdom way like lights shining in the dark … be yeast in the dough of the world … lead all peoples into a process of spiritual formation, in which their lives are shaped into my radical way of vulnerable trust, of mutual love, of peace-making, of the pursuit of justice, of gentleness, of humility, of purity of heart … and as they see the attractiveness of this way, many of them will want to be immersed in the God you reveal who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit …’

The key to chapter Matthew Chapter 28, is Matthew chapters 5 to 7 – his great passage in which the ancient law is re-interpreted for the new messianic age in which all humans of all races and all faiths are now through this Christ invited to belong.

As we read this passage again as Matthew meant us to read it, we are challenged to the very depths. Do we live this new way of being human? Do we walk his way of vulnerability and trust, gentleness, humility, truth and purity of heart, pursuing justice …? Do you? Do I? It is the way that will enchant and unite the world.

Lord have mercy upon us.

Rev’d Canon Patrick Woodhouse, Precentor of Wells Cathedral
3rd June 2007

In St. Pauls’ letter to the Galatians that we had read to us this evening, he contrasts the desires of the flesh with the things of the Spirit. One set would appear to sit in direct opposition to the other. But isn’t it true that we often see aspects, dimensions of the divine if you will, in the most unexpected places and amongst the most unlikely people.

And this is self evidently true when we poke our noses above the ecclesial parapet and engage with the greater humanity. I suppose, to use a gospel image, I want to assert that the goats are not as beyond the pail as we might first be led to think. In this regard I am reminded of the diaries of Oswin Creighton, a member of the Royal Army Chaplain Department, who served with distinction throughout the First World War. And he was not alone when he observed that the average Tommy Atkins from the rough end of the trench, whose maison d’etre, whilst slogging it out in the mud of Northern France, was decidedly on the fleshy side – I’m conscious that we have choir boys here this evening – that same Tommy Atkins was also capable, and indeed demonstrated the highest form of Christlike sacrifice in crawling under heavy, withering fire into no-mans land to rescue a fallen comrade. I can think of so many other examples in my linited and very different expereince with the armed forces. Rayner McBirney of the Royal Irish, who went some way to prevent me from going over an ice ridge in Grytirkan in the South Atlantic; staff sergeant Merill who in the teeth of an horrendous amphibious landing exercise said to me, “Padre Sir, you just stay near me” – sound advice as I swim like a brick. Or an old friend of mine, I can still see his face in the mess at Shawbury, John Coxen who was killed in Iraq at Christmas. A man who was profoundly good, a gentle, peacful, patient loving man. And yet he like the others I mention this evening were also a bit fleshy!

And what I say can be replicated in so many other instances as well. Yes indeed a the sharp end of service life it may be more apparently dramatic; but what about those other realms of everyday life – the men and women who serve in the police, the fire service, the ambulance service, or in our hosiptals and all manner of humanity that exists behind the doors of millions of homes. You see God in the most unlikely of places and amongst the most unexpected people.

And what I say this evening is not some wishy washy, limp sentimentality, woven into my mind by the expereince of serving in the traditions of our services nor seen through a rosy haze that I name the great British people. Far from it, for it is a theological statement that requires us to think and therefore to illuminate and define our understanding of the Almighty. It is a deeply incarnational view that acknowledges that matter matters and that human life in all its many contradicitons and imperfections has the capacity to convey the love of God, both within and without the Church.

Studdant Kennedy, popularly known as Woodbine Willie was another collossus of a chaplain born out of the horro of the Great War. He, like Oswin Creighton saw how in its exposure to the waste of humanity in the trenches, the Church found itself so often unable to articulate the truth of the Gospel. Ironically, maybe even paradoxically, it was the Church that ended up being taught by those fleshy Tommy Atkins. A different vision of God emerged, a braoder comprehension of his transcendence took form – and we are still learning the same lessons 100 years later. The Church is still learning how it is that God must be taken out of the box, it is still learning to affirm rather than judge; the cataracs of her impaired vision still needs attention in order that she may see that what God created was and is as a starting point good; impaired and fractured may be but nonetheless the repository for the potential for God’s love.

It strikes me that in all that is good and true, and noble and honest and kind and loveable in human endeavour and relaitons that we see the very imprint of the character of God himself. Belief in God, a thing of the past, a quaint medievak pastime, a gentle sop for insecure people – I think not. Isn’t it fascinating where we see God – in the most unexpected places and in the lives of the most unlikely people. Amen.

Rev’d Hugh Bearn, Vicar of St. Anne’s Tottington and Chaplain to the Queen
20th May 2007

The story is told of four monks who came to see the great desert father, Abba Pambo. Each spoke about the virtue of one of the others. The first fasted a great deal, the second was poor, the third had acquired great charity and they said of the fourth that he had lived for twenty years in obedience to an old man. Abba Pambo said to them, “I tell you, the virtue of this last one is the greatest. Each of the others had obtained the virtue he wished to acquire, but the last one, restraining his own will, does the will of another”. The monk who “lived in obedience to an old man” was devoted to the loving service of another.

Obedience is a term, which has come to make many of us shudder today. It doesn’t seem to have any good connotations whatsoever, and appears to be in direct contradiction to many of the things we prize most highly, such as freedom and personal choice. In contrast, obedience is often seen as a narrowing down of life by submitting one’s will to another in a servile sense, to the extent of abdicating from personal responsibility. As children we were all taught to be obedient to our parents, our teachers, well basically anyone who was older than us, and though at times this may have been challenged or negotiated it was still pretty clear at the end of the day who was in charge. Its not surprising therefore that obedience has often been equated with an infantile state of submission in the best-case scenario and as dictatorial oppression in the worst.

Well our two readings this evening seem to uphold this view of obedience. To any sensible person, God’s command to Abraham to sacrifice his son seems outrageous, regardless of whether it be a test of faith or not. How could a loving God command such a thing of a faithful servant, surely these are the actions of a tyrannical bully. Equally shocking though is Abraham’s apparent blind obedience. In true Old Testament brevity, we know nothing of what Abraham is thinking or feeling about such a command, all we are told is that he obeyed without a word of question or complaint. Surely this is an example of religious oppression at its worst and we can’t blame it on a human institution this time as it comes from the very mouth of God.

Similarly, in our New Testament reading from John, Jesus commands Peter to be essentially like him, the good shepherd, and to tend his flock in what appears to be proof of his love. However, in contrast to Abraham whose obedience brings the reward of a ram for sacrifice instead of his son and the Lord’s blessing, for Peter the reward is to be bound and taken to a place he does not wish to go. To obey Jesus’ commands not only seems to be about losing freedom but also one’s life. Peter had seen what had happened to Jesus and the kind of death he endured, surely he must be mad to obey such a suicidal command.

It would be easy to dismiss these two passages as being about the spiritually elite who, either impress or horrify us by their faithful obedience, but either way are out of our league. Easier still would be to interpret these passages differently and stress not the obedience, which is asked of both Abraham and Peter but the faith they show. But this would be to avoid a very thorny issue and not answering a charge, which is often laid against God. Given this, how then are we to understand these passages, let alone apply their wisdom within our lives?

Maybe one of the things, which clamours at our ears and prevents us from listening to the Word in these passages, is our negative and fearful understanding of obedience itself. Obedience has not always had such connotations. As we heard in the saying from the desert fathers, obedience has been held as the highest of all the virtues, not because it was to do with submitting to another’s will but because it was to do with loving service of another. This understanding of obedience can be found at the very root of its meaning. The word obedience comes from the Latin oboedire, which does not mean to obey but to listen. The prefix ob can be translated as ‘in the direction of’ whilst audire means to hear. The word obedience thereby conjures up the image of leaning towards someone, straining to hear what they are saying, giving them all your loving attention as if your life depended on it. Obedience therefore is not so much about hearing and obeying as listening in love to another.

From this understanding of obedience the story of Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his only son is no longer simply seen as a test of his obedience to the will of God, but rather of his loving trust in God. God tells Abraham that he must do the impossible and he listens and does what he is asked, not out of obedience but out of loving trust. All parents know that, whilst a child may see obedience as your will over theirs, from the parents point of view all is done out of love and concern. Explanations may make this all clear, but when a two year old is on the verge of rushing into a road, what is important is that, regardless of whether they can see the car or not, the child in loving trust immediately hears the voice of the parent and listens or obeys. It is this depth of love and trust that God tests in Abraham and the result of this is not so much a reward of many offspring, as the ratification of this relationship in a covenant between God and the people of Abraham.

Our reading from John’s gospel is similarly more concerned with mutual love than doing as Jesus commands. What is immediately striking about Jesus’ three commandments to Peter is that they each spring from a question concerned with love. There is something of the paranoid lover in Jesus as he keeps asking, as if for reassurance, whether Peter loves him. So much so that Peter starts to get annoyed, even hurt that Jesus doesn’t know how much he loves him. Here we have a scene where Jesus is not so much testing Peter as seeking the assurance of their mutual love. It is out of this that Jesus asks Peter to look after his sheep and lambs, not in the sense of being a priest to the flock of the church, but in the sense of mutual love. Just as Jesus has loved his sheep, so he asks Peter and each one of use to do likewise and to love and care for one another. To strain and listen in love to the needs of others, freely choosing to put aside our own desires for the sake of theirs, and so fulfil his command to love. The words, which follow are thereby a reality check, to walk the way of love is to walk the way of Christ, and like Peter before us, it is to find ourselves similarly bound and taken where we do not want to go. But this willingness to give up our own desire for self-fulfilment for the sake of others is no longer a servile obedience rather the path to freedom and fullness of life.

This new and liberating understanding of obedience can be found not so much in the words of John’s account as in its structure. It cannot be a coincidence that Jesus’ three questions to Peter before a burning charcoal fire mirror the three questions put to him on the night of Jesus’ arrest. There, Peter full of fear not only denied Jesus but also himself. Fear cast out love and made him his obedient captive, a slave to his will. Now the resurrected Jesus stands before him, not to give Peter a chance to undo his denials but to physically show him that ultimately it is love which casts out fear, he is no longer obedient to its bonds of oppression, love has set him free. But his love is not just a new set of shackles it is the way, which leads to true freedom and to life. If we want proof of this, then we need only look around.

In the last few weeks, I have never seen such an overwhelming expression of kindness and goodness and love as I have experienced in this College. Time and again individuals have set aside their own concerns and fears and have strained to listen to the needs of others and have been obedient to their call. It has not answered those questions of why such a brilliant and good young man such as Tsz should be killed so suddenly but it has brought love to a desolate situation, it has brought resurrected life out of death.

So let us this evening in loving trust strain once more to listen to the words of Christ to “Come, follow me” and to seek to walk in his way of loving obedience which casts out fear and leads to the freedom of fullness of life. Amen.

The Chaplain
13th May 2007

Christ is Risen!

The two passages from Scripture that have been chosen for the service this evening tell us at once that we are still celebrating Easter, the Resurrection of Christ. We have heard the second chapter of the Book of Jonah and John 21:1-14. The whole of Jonah is read at the first Easter service in the Byzantine Church – along with fourteen other Old Testament passages that point forward to Christ’s rising from the dead – and the passage from John is one of the eleven Resurrection Gospels that are read one after the other through out the year at successive Sunday matins, beginning at Easter itself. This evening I would like to take a look at the inner connections between these two quite different texts.
The immediate link between Jonah and the Resurrection is provided by the last verse of the preceding chapter, which we did not hear. This tells us that ‘Jonah was in the belly of the fish three days and three nights’ (Jonah 1:17).

The connection between Jonah and the Resurrection goes back to Jesus himself. In Matthew 12:39f. Christ says to the scribes and Pharisees who are seeking a sign from him: ‘An evil and adulterous generation seeketh after a sign; and there shall no sign be given to it, but the sign of the prophet Jonas: For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale’s belly; so shall the Son of man [that is, ‘I’] be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.’ The parallel Lukan passage has only ‘For as Jonas was a sign unto the Ninevites, so shall also the Son of man [that is, ‘I’] be to this generation’ (Lk 11:30). We are entitled to think that Matthew, faced with Jesus’ original cryptic saying as recorded in Luke, felt it necessary to expand the reference just in case someone missed the point.

Most of Chapter 2 of Jonah is taken up by a psalm that Jonah must have composed in retrospect, after he was saved. The language is very powerful:

I cried by reason of mine affliction unto the Lord, and he heard me; out of the belly of hell cried I, and thou heardest my voice. For thou hadst cast me into the deep, in the midst of the seas; the floods compassed me about: all thy billows and thy waves passed over. Then I said, I am cast out of the sight; yet I will look again toward thy holy temple. The waters compassed me about, even to the soul: the depth closed me round about, the weeds were wrapped about my head. I went down to the bottoms of the mountains; the earth with her bars was about me for ever: yet hast thou brought up my life from corruption, O Lord my God. When my soul fainted within me I remembered the Lord: and my prayer came in unto thee, into thine holy temple (Jonah 2:2-7).

We can almost hear Christ himself having similar thoughts as he accepts death in that incomprehensible combination of trust in the Father and dereliction that is reflected in his words to the penitent thief and his quotation from another psalm: ‘Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani, My God, my God, why has thou forsaken me?’ (Mt 27:46). But God had not forsaken Jonah, just as he would not forsake Christ. For ‘the Lord spake unto the fish, and it vomited Jonah out upon the dry land’ (Jonah 2:10). Christ too is freed from death, having, like Jonah, offered his own life for the sake of others.

Here the sea is something frightening, capable of taking a man prisoner and holding him for ever – like death itself. And to be swallowed by a monstrous fish is simply a suitable way of expressing what has befallen the prophet – and would befall Christ. But God is in control. He speaks to the fish (that is, to Death), and the fish releases Jonah onto the shore
It is at this point that we can see the connection between the story of Jonah and the passage from the Gospel of John. In John, again, the sea has a role to play, though this time it is calm and unthreatening. Again, there are fish, though this time they symbolise not death but life. Again, there is a shore, and again, as with Jonah, it is a shore on the other side of death. Jesus stands there, his life, like Jonah’s, having been ‘brought up from corruption’. Jesus takes up the story where Jonah in the Old Testament narrative of the whale left off: on the other side of salvation.

Now it is the disciples who are ‘at sea’, both literally and figuratively, fishing at night unsuccessfully, having caught nothing. When asked if they have anything to eat, they say, ‘No.’ And Christ tells them that if they will obey his simple command and cast their net ‘on the right side’ they will find what to eat. They do as they are told, and as a result are enabled to share a meal with Christ. They don’t eat the fish they have caught themselves, however, but the fish and bread provided by Christ. The thing to remember is that it is only after they have carried out his commandment that they are able to share with him his food.

Within the passage from John we see the disciples lifted from one level to another through their obedience to Christ. This movement actually corresponds at a deep level to what happens between the story of Jonah’s salvation from death and the Resurrection of Christ. We are invited to move from one level of understanding to another. It reminds me of a story I heard years ago. You have to imagine yourself in a courtyard in a Jewish ghetto, somewhere in Eastern Europe. A rabbi is sitting there reading a commentary on Jonah, and a young boy comes up to him and asks what it is he’s reading. And so he tells him the story of Jonah and the whale. Having listened carefully, the boy asks him, ‘Is that really true?’ And the rabbi is silent for a long time before he answers: ‘Well, it wasn’t true then, but it is true now.’

Within revelation there is hidden the arrow of time. God’s self-revelation always points forward to something yet to come. The inner truth of the story of Jonah is revealed only centuries later in the Resurrection of Christ. Saint Maximus the Confessor (a seventh-century Byzantine ascetic and theologian) has expressed this in a dramatic way. The Old Testament, he says, is like a shadow: it gives you only a vague idea of the reality to which it relates. The New Testament is like an icon, an image, and is able to express more clearly the reality towards which it points. But the truth about the world – about God, about man, about creation – will only be seen in the Age to come. Only then, in the Kingdom of God, will we know what the past has been about.
To know the Resurrected Christ – in this present age – is to have some idea at least of what the Kingdom will be like. Christ has broken into this world from the End, from that final shore, and invites us to join him there, through obedience to his commandments, in an eternal Feast. Amen.

Christ is Risen!

Bishop Basil of Amphipolis
6th May 2007

+ Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “who are these, robed in white, and where have they come from?” I said to him, “Sir, you are the one that knows.” Then he said to me, “These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.” Rev 7:13-14

I remember him well. He was a policeman, and was engaged in the serious sort of study required of those who wish to be ordained. The class had been wrestling with an awkward bit of the New Testament and suddenly he asked: “Right then, what does it really mean?” When I began, “Well, that depends …”, his frustration got the better of him. “Teachers, you’re all the same! There’s never a straight answer to anything!” My heart went out to him. Here was an honest man, seeking to answer the call of God on his life. Just when he thought he was secure in his faith, clear about his vocation and ready to flourish in his training, he was faced with questions on every side.

Of course, for those of us fortunate enough to enjoy the benefits of the academy, my response may not seem so odd. We are accustomed to considering shades of meaning and weighing differing opinions. But this man’s working life was dominated by questions of fact: was that car exceeding the speed limit or not? Were the fingerprints of this young man to be found on the knife flung aside after a burglary? Was this young lady telling the truth when she said that she hadn’t meant to take goods out of the shop without paying for them? Establishing the truth about things was very important to him.

And so it is to us as people of faith. The problem of meaning in the New Testament, of intelligibility, is an ever-pressing issue. Tonight’s texts give us a wonderful set of examples to tackle. The Acts account of the death and raising of Tabitha a.k.a. Dorcas, seems straightforward enough, until we give it closer attention. Perhaps we should begin there.

As always with Luke, we need to remember that although his primary thrust is historical, it isn’t ‘history as we know it, Jim’. Luke is shaping and moulding his material to demonstrate his belief that human history is the arena of God’s activity. He isn’t really concerned with a straightforward narration of the facts. His main focus in part 2 of his work (Acts), is with the orderly and unstoppable spread of the Gospel from Jerusalem to the uttermost parts of the earth (Rome). As Acts comes to an end, Paul is in the imperial city, proclaiming the Gospel without hindrance. So, as we approach the story set for today, we need to ask why Luke tells it: what is its place in his history?

Well, this section of Acts has two tales running in parallel, that of Paul and that of Peter. The chapter begins with the account of Paul’s conversion and early ministry in Damascus, his unseemly departure from that city and attempt to join the disciples in Jerusalem. It requires the intervention of Barnabas to win acceptance for Paul, who then stirs up a storm of opposition before being sent to Tarsus.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, Peter has been going about here and there among the believers. He heals a man who is paralysed, and many find faith through this. Then Tabitha, one of the saints, dies and is prepared for her burial—that is to say, make no mistake about it, she was really dead. Peter responds to the call to come without delay to Lydda and raises her. The tale spreads like wildfire, and many more folk come to faith.

This seems straightforward enough, but we need to remember that in part 1, the Gospel, Luke has shown two similar miracles of raising the dead: that of the son of the Widow of Nain, and that of the daughter of Jairus. These two miracles bear striking resemblance to the doings of Elijah and Elisha of old. So in our tale, Peter is doing what Jesus did, and Jesus does what the great prophets do before him. But it goes beyond that, for Jesus also teaches in Luke that the only sign that will be given to those who refuse belief is that of Jonah, who is raised whole out of the whale’s guts. That is to say, the sign for the generation is the resurrection of a beloved child; the resurrection of God’s anointed one.

What we have in the tale of Tabitha, then, is more than a little incident involving Peter that places him in the line of the prophets. We are expected to see the event as part and parcel of the core proclamation of the faith. Christians are those who stand up for the truth of the resurrection of Jesus Christ—none more so that Tabitha, who literally gets up, proclaiming the good news in her flesh. It isn’t surprising that such a faith spreads everywhere.

Where Acts seems clear enough to one who will work at it a little, Revelation seems opaque. While we can see a bit of what is going on, there are few straightforward markers in the text to aid interpretation. On any scale measuring intelligibility, this work scores fairly low down the scale. The text begins with a rather bald “after this,” which seems o.k., but The ‘this’ is the sealing of the 144,000 souls from the tribes of Israel who belong to God. “Ah … right …” I can hear you say, “so what does that mean when it’s at home?” Well, to answer this, we need to step back a bit, because we’ve come in too close to a big scene. We’ve been looking at the little brush strokes and we need get further away from the images if we are to see the whole picture.

Let’s start at the very beginning. After the opening chapter of the Apocalypse sets the scene, a series of seven short letters have been read which concern the strengths and weaknesses of various churches. The congregations are warned to be on their guard against those things that seduce them away from their faith. As Revelation 4 begins, the prophet finds himself in the throne room of heaven, where he sees intense worship offered to God by the whole cosmos. This includes worship of the slain and resurrected Lamb (a thin disguise for Christ). In his turn, the Lamb inaugurates the events of the last days as he opens the seven seals on the decisive scroll.

As the seals are opened, the four horsemen ride out, the souls under the altar pray for redress and creation is irrevocably changed. Now comes the interlude before the opening of the last (seventh) seal. The righteous must be marked as belonging to God; it’s for their own protection. As John observes this event, it seems that only a small remnant of Israel is guarded. But, as our section begins, the symbol shifts and becomes a vast hoard that is beyond counting. They are dressed like the redeemed, and they sing equal praise to God and the Lamb. They join with the whole of creation singing a doxology.

Now an elder challenges John: does he know what he is seeing? John challenges the elder in his turn and wins an explanation. These are the souls ransomed and raised by means of Christ’s blood; they have held to their faith through thick and thin. It is their privilege to worship God continually. Then, echoing Isaiah, we have a beautiful passage confirming their blessed state. They no longer suffer, the Lamb becomes shepherd, guiding them to the water of life, and God becomes comforter, wiping away all tears. It is no wonder that this passage is often read at funerals. Only, what does it all mean?

John shows us a vast flow of events. His text is littered with allusions and symbols, some of which we can pick up, and others of which remain puzzling even after intense study. What we must always remember is that the events that are narrated are meant to serve as encouragement for those who are listening. The prophet is trying to ensure that they are strong and clear-sighted, so that they can hold to their faith throughout the ordeals that are to come. Although the visions are heard one after the other, and some parts of the material are numbered, we mustn’t assume that John is offering us an orderly and chronological account of the end of time. We need to share John’s experience: no that matter where he looks, he sees something significant, something beyond proper description. What takes place in the Apocalypse stands outside of time; the prophet does his best to make an orderly account for us. The truth is that everything John sees is eternally present before the face of the Almighty; any sense of time and order (before this … after this) in the text is imposed for the sake of our understanding.

This suggests that we are correct in thinking that Revelation is there is something other than a strictly intelligible and scientifically coherent document. It calls for a different kind of handling, because it bears witness to a different kind of truth. The Apocalypse purports to be an unveiling of the mind and purpose of the Almighty. In unfolding this to us, the Seer is touching something that is ultimately beyond both him and us: God is only marginally and occasionally accessible to our senses and our intellects. By definition, God is beyond us. So John is showing us something that is essentially a mystery, and mystery it must remain. We are reaching out to the Lord who is mostly beyond our apprehension; we can’t grasp God entirely. But that is all right. We’re human, and what John is trying to show us is that if we cling to the bits we know, then the Almighty will do the rest. God will comfort, Christ will save, and build us into a kingdom, and priests, the divine will holds us when our grip fails, and will raise us up to life at the last day.

Now where does all this leave us in the light of Easter, and in the light of a tragic death? Well, I think we find ourselves in a profoundly helpful position. We don’t need to deny the resurrection because it doesn’t make scientific sense. We can legitimately state that we are on a different kind of territory. When we work with out texts, we are exposing a different kind of truth. Humankind, we may rightly assert, would be much poorer without the possibility of resurrection, veiled in ambiguity as it is. It is our task and delight to accept, proclaim and rejoice in this glorious mystery, of the resurrection of our Lord and of each human being.

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed, alleluia! Amen.

Rev’d Canon Dr. Marilyn Parry, Oxford Diocese Director of Ordinands
29th April 2007