Everyday Witness: Sermon 2

The Story of Us

Matthew 1.1-17

An account of the genealogy of Jesus the Messiah, the son of David, the son of Abraham.

Abraham was the father of Isaac, and Isaac the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Judah and his brothers, and Judah the father of Perez and Zerah by Tamar, and Perez the father of Hezron, and Hezron the father of Aram, and Aram the father of Aminadab, and Aminadab the father of Nahshon, and Nahshon the father of Salmon, and Salmon the father of Boaz by Rahab, and Boaz the father of Obed by Ruth, and Obed the father of Jesse, and Jesse the father of King David.

And David was the father of Solomon by the wife of Uriah, and Solomon the father of Rehoboam, and Rehoboam the father of Abijah, and Abijah the father of Asaph, and Asaph the father of Jehoshaphat, and Jehoshaphat the father of Joram, and Joram the father of Uzziah, and Uzziah the father of Jotham, and Jotham the father of Ahaz, and Ahaz the father of Hezekiah, and Hezekiah the father of Manasseh, and Manasseh the father of Amos, and Amos the father of Josiah, and Josiah the father of Jechoniah and his brothers, at the time of the deportation to Babylon.

And after the deportation to Babylon: Jechoniah was the father of Salathiel, and Salathiel the father of Zerubbabel, and Zerubbabel the father of Abiud, and Abiud the father of Eliakim, and Eliakim the father of Azor, and Azor the father of Zadok, and Zadok the father of Achim, and Achim the father of Eliud, and Eliud the father of Eleazar, and Eleazar the father of Matthan, and Matthan the father of Jacob, and Jacob the father of Joseph the husband of Mary, of whom Jesus was born, who is called the Messiah.

So all the generations from Abraham to David are fourteen generations; and from David to the deportation to Babylon, fourteen generations; and from the deportation to Babylon to the Messiah, fourteen generations.

 

When was the last time that you heard that genealogy read out in church? Have you ever heard it? Perhaps you have wondered why every Christmas, when we listen to the gospel writers’ account of Jesus’ birth, Matthew’s gospel appears to begin at verse 18 of the first chapter. Well, this is why. It’s not really one to ignite a carol service. What on earth is going on here? Why has the vicar inflicted upon you this gospel readin? It’s not a barnstormer of a bible reading is it? No parable, no miracle, no teaching, no wise words of Paul, no inspirational passage – just a list, and rather long list, of names, long forgotten names of those long dead.

What has it got to do with being a witness?

Well last week, in the first of the sermons in our ‘Everyday Witness’ series, we thought about what it is we are actually witnessing to. A witness has to be a witness of or to something and we are called to be witnesses to God’s big story. We heard about that overarching narrative that links all those great bible stories about a drama in four acts plus a prologue, of which we are players in Act 3. And here, with this list of names, Matthew begins his gospel by locating Jesus in the story of Israel, placing the Messiah in David’s line, bringing the central character into God’s big story.

And what a list of names! Accounts of genealogies were as important to the ancients as they are to us today. As a vicar I am contacted regularly by people asking about parish records as they are researching their family tree and are looking for evidence of a particular ancestor. And think of the popularity of  the tv programme ‘Who Do You Think You Are’. They are all about locating your own personal story in something bigger. There is always a big reveal in ‘Who Do You Think You Are’ isn’t there? An ancestor who gives cause for that celebrity to reassess who they are. And in Jesus’ family tree we find some strange names also – women for starters. Tamar – who disguises herself in order to fall pregnant by her father in law Juday; Rahab the prostitute of Jericho; Ruth a Gentile; the unnamed Bathsheba, described merely as ‘wife of Uriah’ and so flagging up the sordid dealings of David.

It's a collection of heroes of the faith, lesser known names and somewhat dodgy characters. Probably rather similar to our own family trees. And that’s quite reassuring because, as well as this being Jesus’ family tree it is ours as well. When we embraced the faith, became a disciple of Jesus, and were baptised in his name, our name was added to that list that we have just heard. Our story became part of the story of those who have passed through this world in relationship to God. Our story became connected with God’s story.

Who remembers Venn diagrams from their schooldays? I’ve always loved them – a great visual tool to to help think about how different groups or themes interact with each other. So here is God’s story….

And here is our story…

And through baptism and our part on the church, this is what happens to our story…

Becoming part of this great story means a fundamental change of identity.

When we were carried by our parents to a font, or leaned over ourselves as an adult, when those promises were made and the water and Spirit were poured upon us, it was if we passed through the gateway to our inheritance, the land that God has promised us, a share in his kingdom. Like the wardrobe door to Narnia or the changing room door in Mister Benn, the font (and note how fonts are almost always positioned near the entrance doorways of churches) is that doorway to a changed existence and nothing can be the same again. We pass through water so that we can claim our inheritance and place our story within God’s story and the story of his changed, redeemed, transformed people. We come recognising that before that moment we have spiritually been in the wilderness, we come, like all those who flocked to the Baptist, knowing our need of repentance and desiring a new identity.

And it was this new identity and transformed nature that the fledgling Christian community we heard about in the second reading gave witness to by their words and deeds – a countercultural group of people whose identity was founded in Christ and incomplete without each other. They met together, pooled their resources, prayed together, broke bread together. And in a world today in which the idea of identity for many is individualistic or self chosen, there is still something captivating about that vison of an Acts 2 church and still something of it that is replicated in our own church now, in the care we take with each other, the worship we express together and the love we show together to others.

This sermon series is all about gaining that confidence to be a witness to God’s story. That confidence can also be founded upon our own story because becoming part of God’s story means that when we tell our story – our own story of transformation or belonging; or when we tell the story of Christchurch and all that this church has been, is now and will continue to be; when we tell the story of the church in England and that parish system that seeks to give care and hope to all; in telling the story of all of these we are indeed witnessing to that big story of God’s love towards and purposes for his people.

Everyday Witness - Sermon 1: The Story of God

 

Everyday Witness

Sermon 1: The Story of God

What's your favourite Bible story?  There are so many to choose from aren't there? Is it the story of Adam and Eve in the garden of Eden; the call of Abraham; perhaps Joseph his dreams and his coat; or Moses in his basket; Daniel in the lion’s den; the boy Samuel and blind old Eli; Elijah and the prophets of Baal; or New Testament stories like the birth of Jesus; the feeding the 5000; the parable of the prodigal son; the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost; or the conversion of Paul on the road to Damascus. What's your favourite Bible story? Is it one of these?

Talk to your neighbour and share with them for 30 seconds-what's your favourite Bible story and why.

30 seconds each; off you go.

 

We know, don't we, that we live in a society that is becoming increasingly biblically illiterate. Each generation seems to lose more and more memory of all those great Bible stories we have been sharing. And I know that in some of our all-age worship we have been trying to reconnect children with those great stories and help them fall in love with the Bible stories as we once did.

But all of these, however loved, are but small vignettes, individual scenes in the great four act drama that is the big story of God. It’s the story of a good and loving God who creates a beautiful world, and of creatures made in God’s image who then go their own way and corrupt God’s creation – The Prologue.

God calls a people to know him in a special way, with the aim of the blessing the whole world – Act 1 is the story of God’s people the Jewish people; the people whom he liberates from slavery and establishes in a promised land, who time and time again turn away from him and to whom time and time again he reacts like an exasperated, angry and sorrowing parent.

In Act 2 we hear of the promised saviour who will make all things right, the one who will be God’s chosen one to embody all that was meant to be in God’s chosen people. When Jesus appears on the scene, some people recognise him as the one, even though he doesn’t fit people’s expectations. He is crucified and, though most conclude that this is the end of the story, we hear how it is just the beginning.

Act 3 is the Act in which we are involved, the age of God’s church, Jesus’ family, the primary sacrament by which God’s grace is mediated to his world. We are still playing out the part of the drama that began on that day of Pentecost.

And Act 4, the final act is when Jesus returns, the bridegroom ushering in the new heaven and the new earth, when all will be made right and that kingdom glimpsed in the promises to the patriarchs, pointed to by the prophets and bursting through in Jesus will finally be made real and permanent.

 

Telling stories is a little of what we will be doing as we think about what it means to be an Everyday Witness over these weeks before Lent and after Easter. ‘Living and Telling The Story’ is the diocesan strapline. In a sense this is what being an Everyday Witness is all about. This big story is what we are called to live and tell, to witness to – God’s loving purposes for us from the beginning of time. And it’s most certainly not just on a Sunday in church among our brothers and sisters in Christ that we are asked to live and tell the story. Where will you be tomorrow? Home? Work? School? The tennis club? The art group? The pub? What might it mean to be a witness to God in these everyday situations?

I wonder if any of you have ever been called upon to be a witness by the justice system, make a witness statement or even give evidence in court. Being a witness in that context is all about seeing or hearing something important, relating it to others and so helping them to make sense of it. I remember many years ago at the Natural History museum in an exhibition about how we as humans relate to the world there was an interactive section. There was a short video to watch and then you were asked to be a witness to what you had just seen – describe it to others. Lisa and I compared notes afterwards and realised that we had noticed different things, witnessed to slightly different aspects of the video. Together, I guess, we would have given a fuller picture.

Being a witness to God’s big story takes in both these ideas – seeing and hearing, relating it to others and so helping them to make sense of it and doing this together because together we can give a much fuller picture.

In Acts chapter 1, just before the ascension of Jesus, we read that he said this to his disciples ‘You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.’ (Acts 1.8). That’s not just a message for the people who heard Jesus on that day. It’s a message for all of us who think of themselves as followers of Jesus. Those disciples who heard this message had been on a journey of learning and growing with and being surprised by Jesus. This was the final commission, not the first one. And they had taken that journey together, sharing their hopes and dreams and their setbacks and mistakes.

So we, too, are going to embark on a journey together to learn how we can be witnesses. Has anyone here taken on the NHS’ ‘Couch to 5K’? (explain). It’s genius lies in recognising that the only way for non-runners to become runners is to run! No amount of inspiring books and videos will make the change. It is beginning to run, little by little, starting small doing what is achievable; but doing it; and knowing that you are not alone in doing it.

This is what we will be doing together with Everyday Witness. It’s not just about the rhetoric from the pulpit and the inspiring words that Sam and Tony and I will shower upon you. It’s also about putting into action what we have learned. We will do it gently and we will do it together.

 

So I’m going to stop now (‘thank the good Lord for that’ they all sigh) and ask you to make your first step on your Pew to Witness journey to think of five people whom you know whom you would love to see come to fall in love with God’s big story. And commit yourself to pray for them regularly. Just five. It may just be the first step in you becoming a witness to them of God’s loving purposes for them.

Amen.

Nehemiah Sermon Series: Richard's Sermon on 'Assessing The State We Are In.'

 

Rebuilding

Sermon 2: Assessing the State We Are In

Allerton and St Mary’s 13 June 2021

It was that beginning of the weekend coffee catch up that got Lisa and I talking about the allotment. Do you ever have those Saturday morning early doors sit down with a coffee to plan what is happening over the weekend? Well, the allotment often comes up in conversation at this time of the year. The weeds are growing nicely and we need somewhere to put the pumpkins. Shall we use this or that patch? Have we enough compost? – nothing particularly inspiring. What we decided to do was wait until we went up there and had a look for ourselves. We needed to survey the space so that the decision wasn’t just based on theory.

Assessing for himself was what Nehemiah was doing in the reading we heard today. Last week we left him lamenting – weeping and praying over what he had heard about the state of Jerusalem and its people. And that lament spurred him into action. The Persian king notices his sadness and, when Artaxerxes hears about Nehemiah’s concerns, he agrees that he can travel to his homeland for an agreed length of time. Letters of authority are written to ease his passage and Nehemiah sets off on his mission. We are introduced to the baddies of the story – Sanballat and Tobiah who will prove to be a thorn in Nehemiah’s side throughout his oversight of the rebuilding and then at last Nehemiah is in Jerusalem. And what is the first thing he does? – he goes out with a few trusted friends and has a look for himself at the walls, makes a survey of the state of things and ensures that any assessment is based on what he has seen, based on objective analysis rather than the word of mouth.

Nehemiah is doing what any good leader or any good organisation would do in seeking to look at the state of things, gauge what changes might need to be made and capture a renewed vision and a re-energised purpose – make a proper assessment.

You probably know by now that I listen to a lot of podcasts – washing up, hoovering, walking the dog; all good activities for enlarging the mind. My favourite is Simon Mayo’s and Mark Kermode’s film Radio 5 Live film podcast but a close second is Melvyn Bragg and In Our Time. It is like having a tutorial each week from experts in the field from things as diverse as Multiverses to mediaeval Arab poets. Last week I was learning all about Charles Booth. I’d never heard of Charles Booth before but in the 1880s he undertook an invaluable survey of households in London that showed that almost a third lived in poverty. He knew there was a problem but wanted some data. Booth didn’t have much time for Dickens and his descriptions of east end poverty – if things were going to change he needed to find out for himself. And so he began a survey that showed that the state of things was actually far worse than was thought.

In particular his assessment of how poverty dramatically increased for the elderly once they were no longer able to work led a decade later to the first State Pension. In other words his assessment led to renewed vigour in tackling a problem and to some important changes.

There’s only a point in assessment if it leads to change or to action. Nehemiah’s assessment leads to the people crying out ‘Let us start building.’ Booth’s assessment led eventually to positive change. There is so much assessment in our current life, but I wonder how much of it has any real purpose. Schoolchildren are assessed all the time, particularly this year. Those who are or have been churchwardens especially will know that the Church of England, God bless her, is obsessed with assessments – Statistics for mission, Parish Share survey, Archdeacon’s Article of Enquiry, the list goes on. But I wonder sometimes to what purpose. Nehemiah’s assessment arose out of a clear vision. He understood there was something amiss, he believed that change would have to take place, and so knew that action couldn’t happen until a proper assessment had been carried out.

As we continue to live through this pandemic, as we witness the changes it has forced in how we are in society, in community and in our churches, as we wonder where we are and how we can move forward, as we seek a renewed vision and a re-energised purpose a sober and first hand assessment is needed.

So as we do this – here is some good news. My first hand assessment of the congregations I am privileged to lead and to serve is somewhat different to how Nehemiah viewed the people of Jerusalem. When we were looking at last week’s passage and Nehemiah’s prayer of lament in our home group, someone made the perceptive comment that Nehemiah seemed disappointed with the people of Jerusalem. At least I can say that far from being disappointed I am so humbled and proud of how you all, have worked and worshipped your way through these last traumatic months. One of the passages I have spent a lot of time with is from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians (2 Corinthians 4.1-12). It is the guiding passage for this second year of the PMC process and it contains these wonderful words – ‘We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed but not driven to despair; persecuted but not forsaken; struck down but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus , so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies.’ I think that makes a wonderful assessment of how things have been and how we are. There is much rebuilding to be done but things aren’t lying in a heap in front of us.

And we do have some tools at our disposal to help with our assessment. To turn to PMC again, the formation of the Good Neighbours Scheme was built on listening and assessing – listening first hand to members of the congregation and wider community; not just assuming we knew what people were thinking and looking for but actually spending time asking them. Time again we heard how those who were interviewed appreciated a really good listening to. I wonder whether we might undertake something similar – actually ask individuals how they view the state of our church community and what might need to be some priorities as we grapple with all these new realities.

Some of you will remember a few years ago looking at The Healthy Churches Handbook and using that checklist to help give a spiritual health check for each of our churches. Maybe it is time to revisit that.

But for now I am going to take you on a balloon ride for a few minutes. Sorry, I haven’t got the real thing – this is all about using our imaginations to gain an overview for ourselves of our community and our church. In a moment I’m going to lead a guided meditation and as you are on your balloon ride I am going to ask you to notice what is happening in this community from your perspective as a member of this church, notice what is there, notice what is not there, notice who is there, notice who is not there, notice what is going on – and then to write down any insights down.

So to begin, make yourself comfortable, find a position that leaves you relaxed and yet alert. Close your eyes. Take a few slow calm breaths….

In your imagination, think where are you standing in this village – outside your home, outside church, middle of village, cricket field etc.

In front of you there is a large hot air balloon waiting invitingly for you. You clamber into the basket and as the ropes are cast off and you hear and feel the whoosh of the flame filling the balloon with hot air, you feel the basket slowly rise into the air. Gradually you rise up and gradually the community begins to stretch out below you.

What do you notice? Is there anything you hadn’t spotted before?

Is there anything that has changed over this past year?

Is there anything good happening? Is there anything amiss?

What is God drawing your attention to?

Spend some time making your first hand assessment.

What might need some rebuilding?

 

Now the balloon is starting to descend. Down, down it goes until with a gentle bump you are back on the ground again. What insights do you bring with you? Why not take some time just to jot them down.

We have lamented what has been lost, we have assessed the state of things – next week some principles for rebuilding and for beginning to look forward.

NEHEMIAH 2.11-18

So I came to Jerusalem and was there for three days. Then I got up during the night, I and a few men with me; I told no one what my God had put into my heart to do for Jerusalem. The only animal I took was the animal I rode. I went out by night by the Valley Gate past the Dragon’s Spring and to the Dung Gate, and I inspected the walls of Jerusalem that had been broken down and its gates that had been destroyed by fire. Then I went on to the Fountain Gate and to the King’s Pool; but there was no place for the animal I was riding to continue. So I went up by way of the valley by night and inspected the wall. Then I turned back and entered by the Valley Gate, and so returned. The officials did not know where I had gone or what I was doing; I had not yet told the Jews, the priests, the nobles, the officials, and the rest that were to do the work.

Then I said to them, ‘You see the trouble we are in, how Jerusalem lies in ruins with its gates burnt. Come, let us rebuild the wall of Jerusalem, so that we may no longer suffer disgrace.’ I told them that the hand of my God had been gracious upon me, and also the words that the king had spoken to me. Then they said, ‘Let us start building!’ So they committed themselves to the common good.

 

Questions for Discussion or Reflection

1.      When have you been involved in some assessment that led to positive change?

2.      Why do you think Nehemiah went out ‘at night’ to make his assessment?

3.      What tools of assessment do we have to help us think about the state we are in?

4.      St Paul writes to the Corinthians about being ‘afflicted in every way but not crushed.’ In what ways is this a fair assessment of our Christian community?

 

5.      What insights did you gather on your balloon ride?

Nehemiah Sermon Series: Richard's sermon on Lament

 

Rebuilding

Sermon 1: Lament

Holy Trinity and Christchurch 6 June 2021

 

‘By the Rivers of Babylon, where we sat down, where we wept when we remembered Zion.’

These words from Psalm 137 are perhaps the most famous lament in the Old Testament and are difficult to say without Boney M’s music ringing around in my head. But they are just one example of a cry that fills many of the psalms. ‘Look at the state we are in Lord? Things aren’t right, Lord! Something terrible has happened, Lord! I wish this had never happened, Lord! I’m in trouble, Lord!’ All across the Old Testament there is lament – Job sits in sackcloth and ashes and weeps for a life that has fallen apart (little knowing that he is but a pawn in a bet between God and Satan); David laments the loss of his beloved friend Jonathan and later his son Absalom; Isaiah and Jeremiah lament the path that the people have taken. In the New Testament Luke writes words of lament for the slain children of Bethlehem and Jesus cries out on the cross ‘My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?’

And today we have heard another lament – the prayer of Nehemiah on hearing about the state of the Jerusalem and its people.

This is the first part of a sermon series which I hope will give us some tools for us, as God’s people in this place to come to terms with what has happened and some tools to move on.

Why use the book of Nehemiah? After all, here is a book which seems to be largely a number of spectacular lists of some truly spectacular names written millennia ago in the first person by someone – and I’ll let you into a secret here – I find it very difficult to like. Nehemiah comes across as something of a self-justificatory and self-righteous prig, someone who can tolerate little dissent and for whom purity is crucially important. And if that isn’t doing a very good selling job, he is also someone with a great sense of calling, a deep faith in God and the ability to get things done. He leaves the people of Israel in a much better state than he found them – and for any minister that’s a pretty good thing for which to aim!

 

When the book opens, the people of Jerusalem are struggling. The exile is over and the longed-for return to their homeland had taken place almost eighty years ago. Life should have been better. And yet they have still not recovered from their trauma. Life post exile is not the same as life pre-exile. They are still struggling to come to terms with what has happened, leading a meagre existence in a city whose walls lie in ruins. Rebuilding is needed and Nehemiah proves to be just the man for the job. The focus is on rebuilding the walls and ensuring that the city is once more defensible against those enemies that are gathering but really this is all about the rebuilding of the people, helping them move on and giving them fresh vision and purpose.

And here we are, back in our churches after exile, struggling to come to terms with what has happened over this past year or so, wondering how the landscape might have changed, looking to recapture some vision and purpose, knowing that some rebuilding is going to have to take place and suspecting that we can’t just sit around and wait for the old ways to return.

Whether or not you like Nehemiah the person, the book that bears his name speaks to our situation and can help us move forward.

And why begin with Lament? – well on one simple level, that’s where Nehemiah begins and that is somehow important. When he hears that the people of Jerusalem are in a parlous state we are told that ‘I sat down and wept and mourned for days, fasting and praying before the God of heaven.’ Nehemiah pours out his pain into this amazing prayer that takes up most of the this first chapter. He cannot move on to plan for the future until he has wept for the past and the present. He cannot be of any use until he has been real about the pain that is in his heart. He cannot address the state of the walls and the people until he has offered it up to God in compassion.

There has been so much to sit down and weep about over this past year – the images of overwhelmed medical staff who have been stretched beyond their limits and whose agonising choices have left their scars; those images from India of people left to find their own oxygen; the Covid memorial wall on the Embankment in London, each heart marking a life lost – 127000 and counting; the lost opportunities for children and young people worldwide. In our own small community there have been the deaths that we haven’t been able to mark properly, the numbers in our congregation who have grown used to online worship or no worship and whom we may struggle to see again, the baptisms and weddings we have been unable to celebrate; and the children we have let down as we have struggled to connect with families.

 

But here’s the rub about Lament – it is so much more than an introspective ‘Woe is Me’ cry of despair, so much more than a complaint to a higher power to get things done and Nehemiah shows us the way.

When Nehemiah pours out his heart, he begins with God and he begins by praising God – ‘O Lord God of heaven, the great and awesome God who keeps covenant and steadfast love…’ Nehemiah’s lament is a prayer, a prayer of trust in God, a prayer of trust in his faithfulness. And so must our lament be also. How often in the psalms does lament and praise seem to go hand in hand! Nehemiah begins with God because he knows that he has a loving Father who will hear him.

Contrast two scenes – one of the saddest visits I undertook was in Romania. Over twenty years ago I spent a week at an AIDS hospice for children which my church supported. The hospice was a place of hope but I remember one bitter January day struggling through the snow with some of the volunteers to take part in a weekly visit to some small orphans at the local hospital. We were with them just over an hour – two little girls aged between two and three – but they barely made a sound the whole time. This was probably their only meaningful human contact all week and they never cried because they had learned that no-one cared enough to answer.

Last week one of our guinea pigs died, the second in just a few months. They have been well loved by my daughter, they are hers; and when Pepper died Melissa’s first instinct was to come to her Mum for a hug. She was able to be with someone she trusted as she made her lament. Children who are confident of the love of a caregiver cry. For the Christian, our lament, when taken to our Father in heaven, as Nehemiah does, is proof of our relationship with God, our connection to a great Caregiver.

Nehemiah’s prayer is one for his people. It is a prayer of the heart, a prayer of compassion. He may be doing just fine. After all, he is a cupbearer to The King of Kings, living a well to do life, far from Jerusalem. And yet he bears the pain of the people on his heart. I know that, thankfully, our churches have been left relatively unscathed by the full effects of Covid – no deaths, no hospitalisations, few, if any, redundancies. And yet we know that so many are in pain and our lament is not only for the suffering; it is for solidarity with the suffering. We love our neighbour when we allow their experience of pain to become the substance of our prayer.

Nehemiah owns up to his own part in what has gone wrong. He offers up his sorrow for the times he has offended God or failed to keep the commandments. He offer sup his sorrow for the corporate or structural sins that have affected events for ill, asking forgiveness for the people of Israel and his family.

 

Now, I’m not saying at all that the Covid pandemic is our fault and certainly not that it is a punishment from God, just as Nehemiah, serving as a cupbearer in the heartlands of Persia is hardly personally responsible for the woes of people in Jerusalem. But if Covid emerged by crossing over from animals as a result of humanity’s abuse of the environment, then that needs acknowledging and lamenting if change is to happen. In our own situation, it is particularly on my heart that , though much has been dealt with well, we, I, have particularly failed the children and families who are part of our church family and am worried about how they can ever be incorporated again. Will they come back? That failure needs to be acknowledged and lamented if a rebuilding is to be truly effective.

Finally, in his lament Nehemiah appeals to the faithfulness of God. He reminds God of his dealings with his people in the past and asks him to act now. In the end any lament is a prayer of trust, trust in a God who is faithful, trust in a God who loves us, trust in a God who always wants what is best for his children. Our lament is not passive, not a venting of frustrations or simple sadness because our lament is a prayer that has its foundations in God’s faithfulness. Our lament instead is to be a call to action – from ourselves and from the God who is faithful. As Bishop Tom Wright writes – when the Spirit dwells in us, then somehow, God is praying within us for the pain around us

Lament is not our final prayer. This is not the final sermon. It is a prayer in the meantime. Most of the lament psalms end with a “vow to praise”—a promise to return thanksgiving to God for His deliverance. Because Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, we know that sorrow is not how the story ends. The song may be in a minor motif now, but one day it will resolve in a major chord. When every tear is wiped away, when death is swallowed up in victory, when heaven and earth are made new and joined as one, when the saints rise in glorious bodies…then we will sing at last a great, “Hallelujah!”

For now, we lift our lament to God as we wait with hope. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

 

St Paul Sermon Series Week 4 - Joy's sermon on Grace, Justification and Faith 'Galatians 2. 15-end Paul, Augustine, Luther and Wesley'

Continuing the sermon series on some of the key teachings of St Paul, this morning’s task is to consider Paul’s themes of faith, justification and grace also seen through the eyes of Augustine, Luther and Wesley.

Firstly a reminder of St Paul’s context: he would have been an observer of the impact of Jesus’ life and teaching (hence his persecutions of the new Jewish/Christian sects) but not a follower of Jesus until after his dramatic encounter on the Damascus Road.  His sources for his writing would have been discussions with some of those who were disciples and followers of Jesus, together with the Hebrew Scriptures, of which he was a diligent scholar.  The Apostle Peter was a close associate of Paul, as referenced in the letters and also the book of the Acts of the Apostles.

Let us also note that many of Paul’s letters are some of the earliest produced Christian writings.  This letter to the Galatians is believed to have been written between the late 40s and early 50s CE, whereas the earliest Gospel, that of St Mark, is believed to have been written in the mid to late 50s CE.

In the reading we heard earlier Paul begins with a clear statement of his central theological affirmation: “ … we know that a person is justified not by the works of the law but through faith in Jesus Christ”.  A simple enough statement we may think, but for the early Jewish Christians, somewhat difficult to embrace because for Jews the mark of their covenant with God was their diligence in keeping the law and rituals such as circumcision, keeping the Sabbath and the food laws.  So what was to happen when Gentiles (that is anyone not a Jew) came into the Christian community?  Should they too be circumcised and keep the law?

Paul’s answer is an emphatic no: ‘we have come to believe in Christ Jesus, so that we might be justified by faith in Christ, and not by doing the works of the law, because no one will be justified by the works of the law.’ 

Augustine

During the fourth century Augustine of Hippo was a foremost scholar and intellect and is regarded even now as one of the most influential theologians of Christian thought, especially concerning his in-depth study of Paul’s writings. 

Augustine’s view of salvation follows from the starting point that people are sinful and unable to respond to God of their own accord, therefore God must initiate salvation.  It is Augustine who developed the doctrine of ‘original sin’; we cannot contribute anything to the process of making ourselves acceptable to God, so justification for Augustine is entirely God’s work, it is God who makes people righteous. This righteousness is a gracious gift of God, and Augustine believed, becomes part of the inner person.  There is a change in our nature as it were, which continues throughout life, until we reach our final home in heaven where perfection awaits.

This approach distinguishes Augustine from Luther and the Protestant Reformers, who understood justification to describe God’s activity of attributing or imputing righteousness to sinful humanity as the ground of acceptance.

Luther

When coming to the theology of Martin Luther we need to recognize we have jumped a good few hundred years from the fourth century to the end of the fifteenth century, and during this time the Christian Church (which we now call the Roman Catholic Church) had developed belief and practice in many ways.  One of these shifts was towards the practice of associating salvation with good works, so essentially you could earn your way in to God’s good books as it were by what you did, including paying the Church to have priests pray for your soul (the practice of selling indulgences).

Luther diligently studied the Scriptures, especially Paul’s letter to the Romans, and concluded also that through the grace of God, people receive the gift of faith which justifies them.

He explained justification this way: all have sinned and are justified freely, without their own works and merits, by God’s grace, through the redemption that is in the death and resurrection of Christ Jesus. It is only necessary to believe this as an act of faith. Being made right with God cannot be achieved by any work, law, or merit.  Faith alone justifies us.  This is the essence of Luther’s theology of salvation.  Moreover, the faith of the believer is personal, it embraces trust in the promises of God and it unites the believer to Christ.

Faith in the righteousness of Christ then attributes righteousness to the believer for the forgiveness of sins; note the difference with Augustine who said faith imparts righteousness.

Wesley

Fast forward to the eighteenth century and John Wesley. For Wesley (The Essential Works of John Wesley 2011), salvation is inextricably linked with faith. In its broadest sense, Wesley describes faith as a new way of seeing: by which we perceive the previously unseen spiritual world, and become convinced of God and his work.

For Wesley, justification is the moment in which a person is pardoned of their sins and reconciled to God: “It is the forgiveness of all our sins.” The moment of justification brings about a “real” personal change: which includes feelings of peace, hope, and joy; the reception of the Holy Spirit as a confirming witness to justification; a sense of “the love of God shed abroad” in the heart; and, most importantly for Wesley, the emergence of “love to all mankind” and the leaving behind of sinful attachments. This real change is the beginning of sanctification.  Implied in Wesley’s perspective is a conscious moment when a person turns in penitence and faith to God.

Again, Wesley sees the grace of God at work in all this both before we are aware of God in our lives, then as we respond to God’s reconciling love and the grace for the life’s journey, we grow in the likeness of Christ.

Conclusion

So for all our theologians there are some differences but some strong similarities.  They have all been compelled to study the Scriptures and work out for themselves some of the core principles of understanding God and Christ.

Implicit in these is the cultural and social context in which they seek to apply this understanding, and therefore we can observe the subtle changes in emphasis and interpretation as human society grows and develops.  There’s a hint of this in the Gospel reading today as Jesus teaches in the synagogue at Nazareth and people are astounded at what he is saying, but, as the saying goes, ‘familiarity breeds contempt’ and they are unable to receive what he brings but take offence.

Scripture continues to be interpreted and applied, it is after all ‘living and active’, and it is important that interpretation continues carefully and faithfully.  We must not remain stuck with a literalist, simplistic reading of Scripture and therefore do well to take seriously our own studies, either through personal reading or joining a group or course such as Exploring Christianity.

One of the ways in which the interpretation of the passage has moved on in recent years has become know as the ‘new perspective on Paul’. In a very small nutshell, this has focused on the Greek phrase which has been translated ‘faith in Christ’, and which is now suggested may more accurately be translated as ‘the faith of Christ’ or ‘the faithfulness of Christ’.  I won’t go into the implications of this, but it may be worth pondering the significance of the difference.

I believe then that the development of interpretations of Scripture is a Godly process because our awareness of the infinite Creator has to grow alongside other areas of intellectual endeavour.  If this were not the case we would still be sacrificing children, leaving disabled people to die and owning slaves.

Our current theological challenges in the Church worldwide are over human sexuality, marriage, gender and in certain quarters still about women priests and bishops.  But change will happen and new challenges will be faced - I can’t imagine how we’re going to deal theologically with artificial intelligence.

But my hope for the future lies in the grace and love of God, which are evident in all the writers I have mentioned.  The overwhelming emphasis, stemming from Paul’s theology, is God is always at work to seek us out, offering the Godself to the world in continuing, creative, overflowing love. 

It is also clear that for Paul, the Christian life is all about participation in Christ, that we live in and through Christ: ‘it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me’.  So the quality of our life, individually and in community reflects the nature and life of Christ.  Being in Christ is reflected in lives characterised by faith, hope and love.  Moreover, we receive the empowering of the Holy Spirit who endows us with the fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.  Think of a world where these are the dominant virtues - this goes some way to describing the Kingdom of God.  Our theological skip through some historical writings of great Christian thinkers may have started with justification, faith and grace but the destination is always the increase of the Kingdom of God, on earth and within us.

St Paul Sermon Series Week 5 - Joy's sermon on 'Living Well Together': 1 Corinthians 12 - Paul and his fledgling churches

Our task this morning is to reflect on what is probably a very well known passage from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians.  Forgive me if some of what I say is familiar to you but I hope that even if this is the case it will be a springboard to thinking afresh about what it means to be the Church of God and therefore how we live together.

It is believed that the motivation for this letter to the church in Corinth was to address issues relating to people’s behaviour.  Even so Paul does this in rather a clever way because his moral guidance comes within a framework of our relationship to and within Christ. Or to put it another way, ethics and theology are closely connected in Paul’s writing.

Within this letter we can see Paul’s aim to help organize and nurture a community, and the life of that community. It is important then, as we hear today’s reading that we do not hear it as isolated individuals but we hear ourselves addressed as the church. 

Chapter 12 is in essence Paul’s perspective on corporate worship.  However, this is not just about what happens on a Sunday morning, because as we know, being here today should be part of what equips and enables us to live the Christian life other days of the week too.  The final words of the dismissal of our act of worship today are ‘go in peace to love and serve the Lord’; as well as bringing ourselves and our resources in worship to God, we come to put ourselves in God’s hands, to be received as part of the body of Christ, to be blessed and to be given, or sent, to the world for its blessing. 

Paul is seeking to bring the disorderly and self-centred worship practices of the Corinthians under control so that the church as a whole may be built up.  The aim is the same today, that our worship builds us up for the life of discipleship, the call to follow Jesus and become his true sisters and brothers; daughters and sons of God.  We belong to Jesus and together with him belong to our heavenly Father and to each other.

It is with this in mind then that we reflect on what this ancient text has to say to us today and I’m focusing on three aspects of the text.

Firstly, it is the Spirit who empowers all Christian confession. We too live in an age of competing spiritualties, but Paul was clear that the Spirit inspires the confession of Jesus as Lord; it is the Holy Spirit at work for all those who profess faith in Jesus and the same spirit who binds all Christians in the unity of faith, whether we agree with them or not!  So this has something to say about how we manage disagreements in the Church, because the option to walk away from each other is an illusion.  Disagreeing well, which Archbishop Justin has encouraged, is hard, really hard because we disagree about some very deep things.  But to persevere with respect and humility means we can create a culture where it is possible for differences to be reconciled at least to the point of living together peaceably.

Secondly, Paul outlines something that we could call first century church organization theory. The manifestations of the Spirit may show variety but they have a common source and common aim.  These manifestations, such as wisdom, prophecy and healing are gifts of God given through the Holy Spirit for the purpose of the common good; they are not ends in themselves but are given to encourage and build up the whole community.  At the end of the chapter he returns to the idea of Spirit inspired callings for individuals: apostles, teachers, prophets, but again he focuses on their purpose to create the divine community.   It would be interesting to read through these gifts and ponder which ones you see in evidence in our church community, and indeed which ones you are drawn to or feel uncomfortable about.

And thirdly, there is the body analogy: the notion of diversity and interdependence.  Probably the image we are most familiar with because the phrase ‘the body of Christ’ comes up so often in our services and as a phrase to describe the Church.  I want to draw out, from this analogy of the body, the implication that we must recognize that the privileged and powerful are bound together with the less fortunate and weak.  One of the issues in the Corinthian church that Paul sought to challenge was that those who were more powerful, either through wealth or status tended to act in a way that ostracized and despised others.  In pointing to the importance and indeed necessity of all parts of the body, Paul was driving home the message that all are valued and have a part to play in God’s economy.  Especially in these days where many people feel vulnerable about their place in British society it is particularly important that we are genuinely welcoming and inclusive.

All that we have considered so far is pertinent to the future; we all desire that more people should come to know their belovedness in God and become part of the body of Christ on earth.  But our present experience is no guide to the future.  What do I mean by this: firstly I am confident that God will continue to be at work in the world and will draw people to into the Divine love.  I also believe that the Christian Church will continue, but possibly not in all its current expressions. 

The picture of social and cultural life changes across the centuries and we are living at a time of particular change and those of us of a certain age and with many years of faith find it hard to accept that Christian faith is not the backdrop to daily life.  Those coming in to the Church of the future will create different norms and expectations, to say nothing of different ways of doing things.  In fact, this is not really in the future; there are places and communities where Christian faith is being expressed in very different ways now. 

The question is, can we respond in love rather than fear, to new ways of being a community of believers?  If the Benefice is accepted to become part of the Partnership for Missional Church programme it will mean change: change in our attitudes and ways of doing things and change can makes us afraid.  Fear is one of the main agenda items of the systems of our world and the news is usually full of stories of fear.  There is a spiritual truth about questions that originate from a place of fear: they never produce answers created in love.  Fear is like a spider plant, it produces a lot of other fears.

But the heart of Divine life is love, perfect love, and perfect love casts out fear.  We are a diverse community with a profound calling: to represent Jesus to each other and the world, and engage in God’s rescue plan.  We couldn’t ask for a better contemporary metaphor of this than presented to us in the story of the rescue of the boys from the cave in Thailand.  Lives in jeopardy requiring a rescue plan that is as dangerous as it is daring.  A rescue plan that necessitates specialized skills and extraordinary levels of expertise, bringing together a diverse and dedicated group of people with one particular purpose - to reach the boys and get them safely back to their families.  This sounds very much like another rescue plan I know of, one where love overcomes fear and individuals find their true home in community.

St Paul Sermon Series Week 6 - Richard's Sermon on Paul the Constant Traveller: Philippians 3.7-end

Paul Sermon Series No.6

Going the Distance       Paul the Constant Traveller

Philippians 3.7-end

At the end of last month I was sitting on a hot day in an Arabic Studies Seminar in the department of Oriental Studies in Oxford. It was a University Open Day and Iona is keen on studying Arabic. Alongside me, occupying most of one wall was a gigantic map, with titles and legend in German, of the journeys of St Paul. Since the seminar was rather more relevant to Iona than me, I made sure I looked again at the map. You have a map of those same journeys in front of you. It is a vivid reminder of just how much of Paul’s ministry was spent on the road, just what a constant traveller he was. The combination of a German map in an Arabic studies room in an English university might seem rather strange, but then again it reminded me of just what a traveller the gospel is. After all it has an Arabic base, not a European one and we should do well to remember that. Paul himself was from that hinterland between Turkey and Syria and would have considered Jerusalem as his spiritual home. We have just heard a crucial passage from Paul’s letter to the Philippians. Philippi was a Roman city in northern Greece, ancient Macedonia, north of the city we now call Thessaloniki. They were his first European converts and, according to Acts 16, Paul only crossed into Europe because avenues in Turkey were becoming exhausted.

Paul and the gospel may have had an Arab base but he came to understand that the gospel, the good news, of Jesus Christ was for all people an in all times – the Jews and Gentiles of Philippi who became the first European Christians, the Germans who put together that map in what looks like the early years of the twentieth century, just as much as those looking at it now in a twenty first century British university, and you sitting here today.

And perhaps we might not have been sitting here today with those great journeys of St Paul, without his constant travelling. Around eight-twelve of the last twenty years of his life was spent on the road or in prison. Sometimes he stayed a few weeks in a particular place, sometimes up to two years, making a living for himself as a tentmaker while he preached the gospel and established those fledgling Christian communities. If you look at your maps you can see that his first journey  in A.D. 45 or 46 took him to Cyprus and into what was then called Galatia, inland Turkey now. A couple of years later a more extensive journey (c.A.D. 48-51) revisited some of those earlier destinations to strengthen the believers but also crossed to Greece. Then from c.A.D.53 Paul and his companions set out to gather a collection for the beleaguered parent church in Jerusalem. Then there was the final enforced sea journey to Rome that nearly ended in disaster as the ship was driven by a storm from Crete and wrecked on Malta. This doesn’t count the various journeys to Jerusalem or include the planned but probably never taken missionary journey to Spain. And all of this at a time when you couldn’t just hop on a train or plane and where danger on the road was never far away.

The churches founded and strengthened and written to and the money collected for Jerusalem in itself is quite a legacy. And there were times that Paul had to beat away adoring crowds who though that he and Barnabas were gods come to earth; and there were times when he was accused of starting riots; and there were times that he was thrown into prison; and there were times that he survived assassination plots against him; and there were times when he was beaten; and there were times when he and his companions fell out spectacularly. As Paul himself writes to the Corinthians (2 Cor 11.25ff)

Five times I have received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods. Once I received a stoning. Three times I was shipwrecked; for a night and a day I was adrift at sea; on frequent journeys, in danger from rivers, danger from bandits, danger from my own people, danger from Gentiles, danger in the city, danger in the wilderness, danger at sea, danger from false brothers and sisters; in toil and hardship, through many a sleepless night, hungry and thirsty, often without food, cold and naked. 

What on earth drove Paul to keep enduring such hardships and keep travelling onwards. He himself told us as he writes to the Philippians. It is nothing less than the ‘surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord.’ The reason that Paul is so fired up with missionary zeal is because of the inner journey that he himself has taken and wants others to take as well – following the Jesus way in order to gain glory. The end of this third chapter of Paul’s letter to one of his most beloved congregations, is so crucial because it gives that insight into what makes Paul tick, what turned him into that constant traveller. He could have relied on his previous privilege or status. Just before verse 7 he reels off a long list of those things that made him an absolute twenty four carat, pukka Jew. He could have led his life relying on the privilege which all of that gave him. And yet he considers it all crap – and I use the word advisedly as the best translation of Paul’s word; it would have shocked his listeners as it shocks you now – in order to gain Christ and be found in him. Paul has so got under the skin of Jesus and Jesus has so got under his skin that, like Jesus, Paul has found that the journey which begins in giving up status and which involves suffering on behalf of others ends in glory. That’s why he regards what came before as loss and why he is continually travelling inwardly as well as outwardly, ‘pressing on towards the goal for the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus.’

It’s no coincidence that the journey sketched out by St Paul here is the same journey that he celebrates Jesus taking a little earlier in this letter in what we call ‘The Song of Christ’s Glory’, a version of which we sing in the hymn ‘At the name of Jesus’. Jesus lays aside his status with God to take human flesh for our sake. He leaves behind former status and endures suffering on behalf of others. Therefore God raises him to glory. Paul believes that he himself is called to go the distance with Jesus, to so travel the Jesus way that he may obtain the prize of glory.

And then comes the point of all of this, for the Philippians and for you and I  also.

‘They must learn to imitate him, as he is imitating the messiah. But how can they imitate him? They have not been zealous jews, eager for the Law. No, but they all have their own status, their own personal or civic pride. And even if they don’t have any (because they are poor or slaves or women – though some women, like Lydia, were independent and free), they all have the standing temptations to lapse back into pagan lifestyles. So whether they are Romans reverting to proud colonial ways or simply people who find themselves lured back into sensual indulgence, all must resist and find instead the way of holiness and unity that is shaped by the Messiah himself, by his choice of the way of the cross, by his status as the truly human one, the true embodiment of the One God.’ (T.Wright: Paul, A Biography p.279)

And Paul calls out the same message across the centuries to us – to travel the Jesus way in order to find glory, to press on towards the goal; perhaps to turn our back on status or a love of possessions or new experiences. We may not be called to suffer as Paul did but we are called to lay aside our status, our pride and to turn our back on the temptations that drag us from God, because that is the road to glory. We may not be called to suffer as Paul did but we are called to expect apathy or mockery or a lack of understanding or hostility and to know that it is all part of getting under Jesus’ skin and him getting under ours.

Paul reminds the Philippians that they are citizens of heaven. The term ‘citizen’ was a very loaded one at that time and in that place. Roman citizens, of course, had special privileges, and it was the goal of many a freed slave or subject from across the empire to become a Roman citizen. And it would have been doubly resonant in Philippi. This was a city, established by the emperor Augustus from army veterans. As well as a projection of Roman power a colony would have been seen as an outpost of Roman culture, full of Roman citizens bringing the Roman way to a foreign place. They may have lived in Greece but they were Roman citizens and their true home was Rome.

The term citizen is a loaded one now also. In a world where migration and instant communication mean so many are on the move, the notion of ‘to where we belong’ is an important one. As we head towards Brexit there is much discussion about belonging. The detail of the settlement will need to flesh out in law whether EU citizens living here (and vice versa) will effectively still be EU citizens living under EU law or British citizens living under British law. And that has led to far more existential questions about belonging. Where do you think you belong? Are you European or British or English or a global citizen. Teresa May famously said at her speech to the Conservative party conference in 2016. ‘If you believe that you are a citizen of the world, you are a citizen of nowhere. You don’t understand what citizenship means. The writer David Goodhart has coined the terms ‘Somewheres’ to categorise those who have strong local and natural attachments; and ‘Anywheres’, global villagers who value autonomy and mobility. Crudely put, the former were more likely to vote Leave and the latter to vote Remain.

St Paul knew about the power of identity and the power of citizenship – he was a Jew from Asia Minor who was also a Roman citizen – but he knew that the journey we take is essentially one of colonisation. Those who call themselves Christians, followers of Jesus, those who travel the Jesus way are primarily citizens of heaven living on earth and aiming like the Roman citizens in the Roman colony of Philippi to project God’s kingdom into where they live; aiming to bring the ways of the kingdom to Allerton or to Wedmore or to Heath House etc; aiming to live as if these places are outposts of heavenly culture. We may live on the Isle of Wedmore, we may live in Britain, we may live in Europe, we may live as global citizens, but our true home is God’s kingdom.

And colonising earth was what kept Paul travelling.

‘Paul’s missionary journeys were not simply aimed at telling people about Jesus in order to generate inner personal transformation and a new sense of ultimate hope, though both these mattered vitally as well. They were aimed at the establishment of a new kind of kingdom on earth as in heaven. A kingdom with Jesus as king.’ (T.Wright: Paul, A Biography p.106-7)