Category: Sermons

‘Training Manuals’ – 21st May, 6th Sunday of Easter

Posted on by St Mary's

Many years ago I used to write training manuals and teach courses about various technical subjects.  One of my mentors had previously served in the Royal Air Force, and told me that the basic technique I should adopt in writing technical manuals was “Tell ‘em what you’re going to tell ‘em, tell ‘em, and tell ‘em you’ve told ‘em.”

If you’ve ever read manuals produced for the Services, you may well have seen this style of writing.

And I was reminded of it a few days ago when I read tonight’s reading from Peter to prepare this sermon.

You see, I’d preached on another part of Peter’s 1st Letter a couple of weeks ago.  And to be honest, when I re-read tonight’s reading from from Peter I thought to myself ‘Hang on, this sounds a bit familiar’, and indeed similar issues are raised in it to the issues he covered in Chapter 2 of his letter.

It did indeed feel that Peter was drilling something very important in to us.

Peter’s first letter isn’t quite like that pastoral letters that Paul wrote; there’s little of a personal nature in it, and rather than it being addressed to a particular Church, it’s addressed to Christians scattered all over Asia Minor.  Some scholars have commented that that this, and the general style of writing and content, suggest that it was either intended to be read as a sermon or a baptismal address, or that it was a letter based on a sermon.  This would allow the content of the letter as a whole – which is based around handling and dealing with persecution, and the response of Christians to persecution – to be seen as an address to be preached.  Other scholars have said that it’s just as possible that Peter wrote the letter as a letter to a widely spread group of Christians, to be copied and taken to different places, because many Christians from Asia Minor were in Jerusalem when he preached at the first Pentecost, and this was his follow up, so to say.

Whatever the case, Peter starts by again reminding us that if we’re to be persecuted or punished it should be for going good – doing what we are expected to do as a Christian – and not because we’ve committed a crime.

“ But in your hearts revere Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, 16 keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander. 17 For it is better, if it is God’s will, to suffer for doing good than for doing evil.”

He’s telling the readers to answer those who might persecute them or criticise their behaviour in such a way as to make those persecutors think, or even feel shame.  Remember the old saying “You catch more flies with wine than with vinegar’? I think Peter is suggesting that here!

Verse 18 reminds us that Jesus – the only totally righteous man – suffered and was put to death in order that the rest of us could be bought to God.

Verses 19 to 22 of tonight’s reading are quite widely discussed by theologians.  There are a number of viewpoints held by different scholars, but I’ll stick with the most straight forward one tonight –

When Noah was building the ark, Christ ‘in the spirit’ – that is, prior to His incarnation through Mary – preached through Noah to the unbelievers who were on earth during the time. Noah and his family survived the flood, the others who disobeyed and did not repent so now are ‘spirits in prison’.

 

I have to say that better minds than mine have taken a look at this question and identified a couple of snags with this interpretation, and have offered other interpretations based on other translations of scripture.

But the thing to take away from this section of the reading is that the flood is symbolic of baptism. The water of the flood swept away the wicked; the water of our baptism washes the sin from us and allows us to be saved by Christ.

I think Peter’s letter speaks to ANY Christian at a time of direct persecution or at a time when it’s hard to be a Christian and behave in a Christ like manner in a society that is increasingly secular and that is governed and managed in a way that make deprivation and lack of compassion a common feature of everyday life.

Peter asks us “Who will harm you if you are eager to do good?” These days we may feel that society itself has a distinct tendency to make doing good – being a practical follower of Christ – hard; Peter tells us that even if we do suffer for doing good, we shouldn’t be scared. We shouldn’t respond with disrespect and anger but should respond in a way that reflects the fact that we are saved by Christ’s resurrection; with gentleness and love.

Sometimes we all feel moved to make a stand for something we believe in; as Christians we’re reminded of ‘what matters’ by the words of Micah – show mercy, do justly, love God.  Being merciful, just and compassionate can be incredibly hard in a society that doesn’t value those virtues as much as it might.  And we start wondering, “If it’s so hard, and I can get hurt, am I the right person for this job?”

But you know what? I think that Peter is telling us that not only are we the right people for the job, we’re the people who’re best equipped for it, and we’re the ONLY people who will be saved by Jesus Christ.

We’re not just the right people for the job; it’s the job we Christians are here for, and we need to get on with it.

Reader Joe Pritchard

 

Readings for sermon and links:

1 Peter 3:13-22

‘The Heart of Prayer’ – 21st May, 6th Sunday of Easter

Posted on by St Mary's

We are all aware of the differences to be found in the many traditions of worship in the Church, such great variety of expression. There is, however, one practice that all Christian traditions follow. All pray, and although I am not familiar with all of the many styles of prayer I am certain that the majority end with the words ‘through Jesus Christ our Lord’, or something similar. The only public prayer that I can think of that does not is what we call ‘The Lord’s Prayer’.

 

Prayers can vary so much. Some can be devout; and some even outrageous when God is told what He should be doing for us. Unhappily, the words, ‘through Jesus Christ our Lord’, because of their familiarity can become something like a mantra. A neat ending to our prayer, which cannot be faulted because the words are true.

 

We know that, as Jesus promised, if we pray in His name He will answer our prayer, but when things do not turn out as we would like we have a problem which we get round by saying that God will answer in His own way. This does not always disguise our disappointment, of course, but disappointment is inevitable when we offer our prayers more in hope than expectation.

 

So let us now see if we can add some substance to our prayers. To do that we need to think about why we pray. It is so instinctive and it is right that we should but what is the thinking behind our prayer?

 

The meaning of the words of Jesus about us asking in His name is far more significant than just being a formula spoken at the end of our prayers, even though the words are true. They have great depth because we are told to offer our prayers in His name.

 

In Biblical sense a person’s name is virtually the same as the person themselves. To put it another way, a person’s name is the very essence of that person. Jesus was not speaking in the manner of ‘just mention my name’, as we say these days. It was an invitation to invoke Himself as our Divine Mediator, mediation being the core function of His priesthood.

 

With this in mind our prayers take on a whole new dimension, for by our prayers in the name of Jesus we are joining in the divine mission of Jesus, epitomised by His words from the cross pleading for those who were killing Him; Father, forgive them.

To approach our Father in the name of Jesus is an invitation to join in His divine mission of reconciliation. This is not presumption on our part but acceptance of His invitation and promise. And it is costly.

 

The ultimate cost was paid by Jesus on the cross and we are invited to share in His self-giving when we offer our prayers in His name, remembering that the name is the person. Such self-giving cannot be sustained by our own efforts but it doesn’t have to be. We have the Holy Spirit to help us, and we need His help, for we are talking of a movement of the heart towards Jesus, not a clinical calculation or formula to ensure that our prayers are answered.

For this reason the grace that comes through the Holy Spirit is essential for it is He who unites us with Jesus in our prayer. Jesus sent the Holy Spirit to help us to fulfil our Christian lives, but there is another side to the coin in that the Holy Spirit is essential for the fulfilling of Christ’s mission, in which we have a part to play.

 

Our prayer is part of His sacrifice because we are one with Him in His purpose as our Great High Priest. This sharing with Him is active and organic in that it is alive, just as Jesus is alive. This is so for all of our prayer.

 

It can be difficult to think like this when we are faced with the all encompassing prayers that are used on grand public occasions, the sort of prayers that are so vague as to cover a multitude of situations and offend nobody. Broad intentions or requests that speak of matters beyond our comprehension.

 

Such prayers are no less real in their intent, but when we hear them we can bring them to life by having in mind what the words, ‘through Jesus Christ our Lord’ mean, and then bring the intentions into the presence of Jesus our Great High Priest, the One who lives to intercede for us.

 

In His sacrifice Jesus gave glory to God and when He said “It is finished” He knew that the first chapter was over and that in Him the Father would be glorified because His only Son had been faithful to the last. His death was but the end of a chapter and the beginning of the next.

 

In saying to His disciples, and to us, that whatever is asked in His name He will do, Jesus is giving us an invitation to join with Him in His sacrificial priesthood. Our prayer is for others, certainly, and it is also an opportunity to share and join in with the priesthood of Jesus.

That is why we pray. Not to manipulate God but to offer ourselves to Him on behalf of others, as Jesus the Son of God, offered Himself.

 

To pray in whatever form it takes, is an opportunity to share with Jesus and is welcomed by Him with open arms. It is a privilege for us that He has achieved by His self-giving and like all privilege it comes with responsibilities, albeit that it is also to be treasured and loved.

 

This goes far beyond a mantra tacked on at the end of a supplication. By using the words ‘through Jesus Christ our Lord’ we exercise our vocation as Christians, offering our self-giving life with His; and in doing so we give glory to our Father, through Jesus Christ, our Lord.

Fr Ron Barret

 

Readings for sermon and links:

John 14: 13-14

‘When Christ calls’ – 7th May, 4th Sunday of Easter

Posted on by St Mary's

Calling of DicsiplesIn the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

 

“When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”

These words were written by Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German Lutheran Pastor, theologian and anti-Nazi activist who was executed alongside conspirators against Hitler on 9th April, 1945, in Flossenburg concentration camp.

As with many statements we encounter in theology, it’s not quite what it seems. Bonhoeffer went on to say “It may be a death like that of the first disciples who had to leave home and work to follow him, or it may be a death like Luther’s, who had to leave the monastery and go out into the world.”  Basically, the death Bonhoeffer wrote about was the death of losing our attachment to the everyday world. We start to do this at the start of our journey with Christ, not at the end of our lives.

For Bonhoeffer there was a literality to this statement; his beliefs inexorably led him to a place where he engaged with plots to assassinate Adolf Hitler, and so to his own death. Despite his words, he had an attachment to the world that did not allow him to turn his back on what was happening in Germany in the 1930s.

The author of tonight’s second reading is Peter. Peter is mainly known as the chap who engaged with the political powers of the day by lopping off someone’s ear and then denied his relationship with Christ. This letter was probably written in the early 60s AD – 30 years after Christ’s death – and it shows that the hot-head of Gethsemane has matured in to a thoughtful man.

Tonight’s reading is a HARD one; it needs to be looked at in conjunction with the text that immediately precedes it, and that preceding text might bring us up sharp.

In Verse 2.13, Peter tells us:

“Submit yourself for the Lord’s sake to every authority instituted among men…”

This is something quite hard for us to take on board today; there is, of course, 2000 years of history between now and when peter wrote these words; and Peter wrote in a culture still attached to the idea that kings worked with the authority of God; but it’s still hard for us.

But in Verse 2.16, Peter tells us to “Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God.”

This brings us closer to where we are – and to where Bonhoeffer probably worked from.  Submit to those authorities – living as free as you can – but do not submit in such a way as disobeys the law of God. In fact, we’re being told to live as servants of God, and, where possible – that is, where it doesn’t impact on our relationship with God – ‘play by the rules’.  Peter’s saying that the need for Christians to abstain from common cultural practices of the day will raise eye-brows; no point in making things worse for yourself by behaving badly.

In Verse 2.18, we hear:

“Slaves, submit yourselves to your masters with all respect, not only those who are good and considerate, but also those who are harsh.”

Again, we have to take this in historical context as referring to both slaves and ‘house servants’  – slavery is not actually frowned upon in the New Testament, and was incredibly common in the times that Peter lived in. And this is where we come to tonight’s reading; in verses 19 and 20 Peter is following on to the comments he made about the behaviour of slaves in verse 18. A good, well-behaved slave, he says, may suffer undeserved pain and punishment and in those situations it’s commendable that he bears the unjust punishment because he is aware of God – that as a good Christian he’ll submit to unjust suffering if it’s God’s will.  If you’re a bad slave – a concept that we might well have difficulty with today – then Peter states that you can expect to be punished, and that you deserve it.  Sounds incredibly tough.  But then he says

“But if you suffer for doing good, and you endure it, this is commendable before God.”

And he goes further – as a Christian – a servant of God and Christ – we’re CALLED to do this because:

“Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps.”

Christ – the total innocent – died a humiliating and painful death after taking the insults and abuse and betrayal of other men. He made no efforts to retaliate; he entrusted himself to God, and bore our sins so that we might DIE to sin.

Like Bonhoeffer said – when Christ calls us, he calls us to die.  The death may be losing our life, but it will certainly be death to sin in our lives.

And what about us? How do Peter’s words speak to us tonight?

Before becoming Christians, Peter says that we were ‘like sheep, going astray’. Now we are under the care and guidance of our shepherd, Jesus Christ. And this means that we are expected to behave like our shepherd would. We can be good citizens and good employees, but in order to be good Christians we must strive to do nothing that puts either of these roles ahead of our love of God and our compassion for our fellow man.

We may find ourselves enslaved in some way; maybe literally, maybe to we feel enslaved or in servitude to our work, maybe we’re literally imprisoned.  Again, as Christians we need to respond to that slavery by following the example set us by Christ.

To fail to do so would, in the words of our confessional prayer, ‘mar the image of God within us’.  We know we’ll fail; after all, we’re human; but we are promised our Shepherd’s mercy and grace.

I have a number of friends – and extended family members – who’re agnostic or atheist and who have been known to ask me to sum up Christianity for them.  I give them a short answer; “Love God, love one another, and don’t be an idiot.”  (Although I have been known to use stronger words than idiot…)

Peter – who, let’s face it had a few problems loving all of his fellow men and not being violently foolish in the Garden of Gethsemane – clearly developed in faith.

Maybe, just maybe, if Peter could develop like this, so can we.

Reader Joe Pritchard

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Acts 2:42-end 1 Peter 2:19-2:25

‘How will we respond?’ – 9th April, Palm Sunday

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Palm LeavesMany centuries ago the people of Israel were slaves in Egypt.  God heard their cries of anguish and called Moses to lead them out of Egypt and into the land of Canaan.  Pharaoh would not let them go.  But then Egypt was struck by plagues, one after another.  The tenth was the most terrible of all; in one night all the firstborn children died.  The Israelites were protected, smearing the blood of a sacrificial lamb on their doorposts so that God’s angel would pass over them.  When Pharaoh ordered them to leave, they had to go quickly.  There was no time for their bread to rise.  They left in haste.  They were chased.  But they made it safely into the wilderness.

God commanded Israel never to forget.  The people were to tell the story of how they were slaves in Egypt and God led them to freedom.  And they were to re-enact the story together by worshipping in the temple, and eating the Passover meal.

 

Scene 1

Passover is almost here!  Crowds are heading towards Jerusalem.

A band of pilgrims is coming from Galilee.  In their group is a prophet.  A prophet who has performed miracles, told stories, befriended the poor.  A prophet who has made God real and close for them.  Times are tough.  Like the Israelites of old, the people long to be free again.  Free of Roman rule.  Free of the many religious rules imposed on them by those in authority.  Could this prophet be the Messiah – the one the prophets told of, who would rescue Israel and her people?

It’s been a long, hot and tiring journey.  Feet are aching.  Stomachs are rumbling.  There’s a steep climb ahead, but they’re nearly there.  They reach Bethphage.  Jesus stops.  Says something to a couple of his disciples.  How will they respond?

 

Scene 2

In the next village a man waits.  Outside his house are tied his donkey and her colt.  The man is puzzling over a strange request – At Passover, please be willing to lend the teacher your donkey and colt.  He has no idea what for.  Will they be looked after?  Will he get them back again?  He needs them too, to carry his goods to and from the market.  But the teacher is a good man, a prophet.

In the distance he sees two men running towards the village.  Silly men, running uphill in this heat.  They look around for a moment, make a beeline for his house and untie his animals.

“Hey you guys!” the man shouts, running out  “what are you doing with my animals?”

“The Lord needs them”  they reply.

How will this man respond?

 

Scene 3

The pilgrims continue on up the hill towards Jerusalem.  Heading towards them are the two men who Jesus sent off on an errand.  Look!  They’ve got a donkey and foal!  Jesus smiles.  His friends place their cloaks on the back of the donkey and Jesus gets on.  The crowds are getting excited now.  Jesus is heading up the procession, but the people sense something great is about to happen.  This could be the time we were waiting for.  Some of them remove their cloaks and spread them on thre road in front of him.  Others run on ahead, cutting branches from the trees.  As he approaches, they line the road with the branches.  All are shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David!  Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!  Hosanna in the highest heaven!”

A disciple watches.  This isn’t what he was expecting.  Why is Jesus making a laughing stock of himself by riding into Jerusalem on a baby donkey?  Isn’t he supposed to be the Messiah, the one who will save Israel from the Roman oppression?  Why on earth isn’t he riding on a horse like a proper warrior?  It’s bad enough that he’s entering Jerusalem with a rag-taggle bunch of Galileans.  Now this! Who will take him seriously now?

The disciple watches in disbelief.  How will he respond?

 

Scene 4

The people in Jerusalem are preparing for the festival’s influx of visitors.  Guest houses are being cleaned, food cooked, seasonal workers hired.  Market traders are setting up their stalls.  The air is full of the smells of spices, food, animals being slaughtered, sweat.  It’s always chaotic at this time of year.  But the pilgrims will spend well and the city folk need their money.

The crowds are beginning to arrive.  But it seems noisier than usual, particularly from the direction of Bethany.  What is going on?

As the crowds get nearer, those in Jerusalem can hear them shouting “Hosanna to the Son of David”.  Some of the authorities climb up on to the rooftops to get a better view.  Look!  It’s that guy Jesus.  The one who they say has been healing people and driving out demons.  And breaking the Sabbath Laws.  He’s a troublemaker.  People are saying he’s the Messiah.  What shall we do?

Some of them see him on the donkey and laugh!  Well it doesn’t look like he’s going to cause an insurrection here – what’s a mighty warrior doing on a donkey?

Others think back to the story of Solomon.  When king David was on his deathbed, it wasn’t clear who he wanted to succeed him.  So his son Adonijah attempted to take over the crown.  Then David ordered that Solomon be placed on his mule and process to Gihon, where he was to be anointed king.  This duly happened.  Adonijah’s court were alarmed by the noisy celebrations.  Solomon took over the throne and Adonijah came to a sticky end.

They also remember the words of the prophet Zechariah (Zech 9:9, NRSV)

Rejoice Greatly, O daughter Zion!

Should aloud, O daughter Jerusalem!

Lo, your king comes to you;

triumphant and victorious is he,

humble and riding on a donkey,

on a colt, the foal of a donkey.

The religious authorities remember, and are rattled.  This guy Jesus could be serious trouble.  How will they respond?

 

Scene 5

The man who would be king and saviour entered Jerusalem on a donkey.  He didn’t raise up an army to overthrow the Romans.  Instead, he went to the temple.  He turned out the money changers and traders, complaining that they had desecrated the house of prayer.  He healed the sick, he answered questions and told stories about the Kingdom of God.  He allowed a woman of ill-repute to anoint him.  And he performed the most menial of duties for his friends, by washing their feet.

He did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited,

but emptied himself,

taking on the form of a slave

he humbled himself

and became obedient to the point of death – even death on a cross.  (Phil. 2:6b-8, NRSV)

 

This is the man who would be king and saviour

How will we respond?

 

Reader Catherine Burchell

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Philippians 2:5-11 Matthew 21:1-11

‘Dem Bones’ – 2nd April, 5th Sunday of Lent

Posted on by St Mary's

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

A little question to start with; what do tonight’s reading from Ezekiel, Chapter 3 of the Book of Ecclesiastes and Chapter 21 of the book of Isaiah have in common?

The answer? They’ve all provided inspiration to popular songs.  The verse from Isaiah gave us Bob Dylan’s ‘All along the Watchtower’, Ecclesiastes gave us the Byrds’ ‘Turn, Turn, Turn’ and Ezekiel 37 gave us the song ‘Dem Bones’.  And you’ll be gratified to hear that I don’t intend to sing any of these!

Our reading tonight is perhaps one of the most memorable and evocative stories from the Old Testament Prophets.  Ezekiel is one of the three major prophets of the Old Testament, along with Isaiah and Jeremiah, and his message is pretty straight-forward. The people of Israel – a holy people, of the holy temple, in a holy land – have yet again broken their relationship with God and they have been punished.

An interesting fact about the Book of Ezekiel is that the events and prophecies in it can be dated with greater accuracy than any of the other prophetic books in the Old Testament.  Ezekiel received his call from God to be prophet in 593BC, and his last dated writing was 571BC – 22 years which covered the period in which Jerusalem fell, the temple was destroyed and the people of Israel exiled to Babylon. Ezekiel was also widowed during this period, and as a member of the priestly class he must have been devastated at the events in his personal life and the life of the people of God.

There was a phrase used by the people when all seemed lost and there was no hope; they would say ‘Our bones are dried up’ – and so it’s perhaps no surprise that God gives Ezekiel this terrifying vision of a valley full of dead bones.

What do you have in your mind’s eye?

For me, I think of Ezekiel standing on a raised piece of ground, looking around him, down a long, wide, limitless valley. And bones. As far as the eye can see, a sea of disconnected, random bones – nothing holding anything together in the form of a skeleton. Bones that have been there for so long that every bit of flesh has been long since eaten or rotted away. Bones jumbled in to random piles – a skull here, ribs there, leg bones and arm bones, the small bones of the hands and feet disconnected and lying around like piles of pebbles.

This represents the current situation and possible future of the people of Israel – a dead people, shattered and rent asunder, disconnected from themselves, from each other, and God.

When Ezekiel had visions, they pulled no punches, and left nothing to the imagination.

God then asks him to prophesy to these bones – and as he does so, Ezekiel sees the bones start assembling themselves in to skeletons. The bones just don’t come together higgeldy-piggeldy; they come together with structure and form – in the words of that song I mentioned:

Toe bone connected to the foot bone

Foot bone connected to the heel bone

Heel bone connected to the ankle bone

 

And so on until the skeletons are reformed. And that’s not all – as he prophesied, sinews were laid upon the bones, joining them together, then flesh, and finally skin. The valley was now full of bodies – perfect in every way – except they’re still not alive.

And God urges Ezekiel to prophesy again – this time to the ‘breath’ :

“Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live”

Now this isn’t just God doing a massive exercise in mouth to mouth resuscitation; we’re not just talking about air being blown in to the lungs of these bodies to make them live.  The Hebrew word used here is ‘ruarch’, which has three meanings; wind, breath and the spirit of God – what we would call the Holy Spirit. Ezekiel is prophesying for the Holy Spirit to fill these husks and turn them in to living, breathing people.

In verses 11 to 14 God explains the vision he has given to Ezekiel; and despite the apocalyptic setting it’s actually good news.  Despite everything that’s happened, things will be OK;

“I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil.”

The multitude of people raised in that valley will return to their homeland, Israel, and hence to the good graces of God. The relationship with God will be repaired; they will return home.

How often do we find ourselves in Ezekiel’s valley? Those times when our less than wise and perhaps even mean-minded – dare I use the word sinful? – actions and behaviour seem to have brought us to a place where one or more of our relationships is dry bones and devastation; our plans are dismembered and scattered around us, and all we can see is the skeletal remains of what was once our future, and is now just dry, lifeless ruin?  I know I’ve been there a few times in my 55 years.

There are times when we’ve done all that we can do, to fix the damage, but we’re still left with a valley of dry bones.  Broken relationships with friends, family, damaged careers, debts, misery and despair. All broken apart like those skeletons that Ezekiel saw in his vision.

We settle down and start trying to fix things; we might manage to get things looking good again. Rather than a total mess we get things looking sort of like what they were before we broke them; but they’re still not quite right. The bones are connected, sinew and flesh has been laid, but there is still no spark of life. Our relationships are not as they were – trust is not there. Love may not be there. The Holy Spirit is certainly not there.

And that’s when we need to be humble, and pray, and ask for forgiveness and ask that God’s grace work through us to properly repair these fractured relationships.

You may remember these words sometimes used in our morning prayers or at Communion;

“The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit : a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise. “

And this is what we need to bring to God so that His breath may re-animate these once-dead relationships.  Things may not be perfect, but they will be way better than when we found ourselves plonked down in that valley with the mass of dead, dry, disconnected bones.

Amen

Reader Joe Pritchard

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Ezekiel 37:1-14 Isaiah 21 Romans 8:6-11

‘Children of’ – 26th March, 4th Sunday of Lent

Posted on by St Mary's

LightI travel at roughly 186 000 miles per second

I am sometimes a wave and sometimes a particle

I have energy which can be tapped and used to heat your home

or make your plants grow.

I can make you feel warm.

I can turn a piece of paper yellow or even burn a hole in it.

I can make you want to get up in the morning, or make it difficult for you to go to sleep in the evening.

 

I enable you to see, to navigate your way around the world.

Too much of me can be blinding.

Not enough of me can make you lacking in energy.

I can be split into different colours.

I expose what is there

and show you all the things you want to see

like your flowers and your children

and all the things you’d rather stayed hidden,

the cobwebs in your sitting room, the streaks on your windows

and the ever increasing number of grey hairs on your head.

 

What am I?

 

Well I think you probably know the answer!  Light!

There are parts of creation that thrive in the dark – bats for instance.  But much of our world is only there because of light.  Sunlight in particular.  And humans need light to survive.  We need light to navigate our way round the world and see any dangers about.  We need light to grow the plants we eat.  We need light for keeping our bodies healthy.  And we need light to keep our energy levels up and our moods good.  It is no coincidence that many early human cultures thought that the sun was a god and worshipped it.

And because light is vital to our very being, it is not surprising that we use light as a metaphor too.  We talk of “shedding light” on a problem when trying to solve it.  We talk of “seeing the light” when we suddenly realise that something we have been thinking or doing was wrong all along.  And we talk of “light at the end of the tunnel” when we start to see a positive outcome emerging from what has been a long and unpleasant or difficult situation.

In his letters to the early churches, the Apostle Paul makes much use of light as a metaphor for God, Jesus and all that is good.  In this evening’s reading from his letter to the Ephesians, he begins by declaring that the people of the church of Ephesus are light.  They used to be darkness, but now they are light.

And he wants them to live as  “children of light” or “fruit of the light” .  More metaphors.  What might they mean?

 

Well if you consider that…

the child of a cat is also a cat,

the child of a mouse is also a mouse

and the child of a human is also a human,

We could say that the child of light is also light!

 

The Ephesians, and by extension all Christians, are being reminded that because God is light, so we are light.  We are children of God.

What does a child of light look like then?  Well a child of light will look like the light.  He or she will be strong and warm.  He or she will have the power to enable others and the rest of creation to grow and flourish.  She or he will show up all that is good.  But she or he will also show up what is not good, and expose the things we’d rather not see.  In short, a child of God, who is light, will look something like God.

We are now halfway through Lent.  Over the next few weeks we will begin to focus on Jesus’ passion, arrest, trial and death, the darkest hours of the Christian story.  And then on Easter Saturday, we will keep vigil.  The church will be in darkness whilst we remind ourselves through familiar Bible stories of the bigger story we are part of – the story of creation, of the Exodus, of the Exile and the prophets.  Stories of trouble, but also of God’s promise of restoration.

And then we will light the new Easter candle.  This represents the light of Christ, who came to banish darkness.  We will each take light from this candle and gradually process into church.  Lots of little lights will begin to expose what the darkness has hidden.  And then the lights of the whole church will be switched on and our Easter celebrations will begin in full.  The service is known as the Service of the Light.

As part of this service, as a reminder that we are Children of the Light, we will renew our baptismal vows.  The Easter candle will then be lit throughout the Easter season.  After that it will be lit again at baptisms.  Its light will then light candles which are given to the newly baptised.  It will also be lit at funerals, a time when people feel great darkness.  A reminder that Christ, the Light of the World, overcame death in order that we might also have life.

Wednesday’s events in London have been a horrible reminder of the darkness that is very much still a part of our world and of human nature.  But we have also seen acts of light in the people who bravely turned towards the danger in order to assist the victims of the attack.  Or those schoolchildren who sang to lighten the mood of those locked down in Parliament.

This week we have also remembered the life of Martin McGuinness.  He was a man who turned away from the darkness of hatred and violence in Northern Ireland, to the light of reconciliation and peaceful politics.  He even surprised many people by becoming good friends with some of those on the opposite side of the conflict.  His funeral was attended by people from both sides of the divide.  Examples in today’s world of fruit of the light.

We are Children of the light.  Let us then ask ourselves, do we look like a child of the light?  What beautiful things might we expose?  How might we give strength to those who need it?  How might we enable creation and other people to grow?  And how might we expose what is not good, so that like the Ephesians and us, we can move from being darkness to light?

So let us, in the words we say at the end of a baptism service:

 

Shine as a light in the world, to the glory of the Father!1

 

Reader Catherine Burchell

 

Readings for sermon and links:

1 Samuel 16:1-13 Ephesians 5:8-14

 

1From Common Worship Baptism Service © Archbishops Council 2000

‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’ – 19th March, 3rd Sunday of Lent

Posted on by St Mary's

In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

Ivan Martynushkin, Harry Oakes, Laurence Ward, Roger Dixey.

These are names that you may never have heard before, but these four men found themselves looking in to the closest thing to Hell on Earth that humanity had experienced in 1945.

These men were amongst the first Allied forces to enter the Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen concentration camps.  Pope Benedict said of these places:

“In a place like this, words fail; in the end, there can only be a dread silence – a silence which is itself a heartfelt cry to God: Why, Lord, did you remain silent? How could you tolerate all this? In silence, then, we bow our heads before the endless line of those who suffered and were put to death here; yet our silence becomes in turn a plea for forgiveness and reconciliation, a plea to the living God never to let this happen again.”

I wonder, when these men found themselves in these dark places, whether they ever thought “Is the Lord among us, or not?” Not just ‘Does God exist?’ – but is He with us in this place of suffering? Is He guiding us, comforting us, loving us, protecting us? Does our faith journey have meaning?

Tonight’s reading from Exodus is particularly suitable for this Lent period when we review our relationship with God and we reflect on Christ’s time in the wilderness and his preparation for His Passion.

The people of Israel, freed from Egypt, have been wandering in the desert prior to tonight’s reading, fed by the grace of God with Manna and quails. They don’t need to do anything for it; just go out and collect the manna they need each morning, and wait for the quails to come each evening and twilight. God provided the people with what they needed, day in , day out.  The people occasionally lacked faith, though; even when told not to gather too much manna and try and store it, they would do and sure enough the surplus rotted. They didn’t always have the faith that God would deliver the manna the following day.

In our reading the people are concerned that they are now going to die of thirst in the desert.  There is no water to be had at their camp-site, and despite the fact that they’ve been adequately provided for so far, they seem to go off the deep-end, demanding that Moses finds them water.

Moses rightly points out to them, in verse 2, that they are questioning and testing the Lord.  And I can almost hear him adding the word ‘again’ under his breath…

To be honest, the people DO seem to be singularly lacking in faith in God’s continued help.  They’ve seen miraculous experiences– the plagues of Egypt, the first Passover, the parting of the sea and the destruction of Pharoah’s army, Manna from heaven, the very fact that after wandering a desert they’re still in a fit state to whinge about things at all – would certainly suggest to me that God has this covered.

But the people continue to protest the situation, to the degree that they’re ready to physically attack Moses, and Moses speaks with God, requesting some assistance. God advises him what to do, and the immediate problem is resolved.

Moses rather pointedly names the place where God’s gift was given as ‘Massah and Meribah’, which means ‘Proof and Contention’. Once again, the people have put the Lord to the test, and have asked the question ‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’

Faith is never easy; even for the people of Israel, who experienced a much more ‘hands on’ relationship with God than we do, they still found it easy to start doubting when things started getting a little tough.  If you think about how long we manage without water, no more than a few days or a week, then you can see that all this took place in a very short time-frame. Despite miraculous bread from heaven in their bellies, the people STILL end up questioning whether God is still on their side when they feel at risk or experience suffering – even when it’s for a short time, and even when they have had direct experience of the power of God.

I imagine that the inmates of Belsen, and the people who liberated and helped them back to health, must have also asked that question – ‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’. After all, our relationship with God today is not so intimate and ‘hands on’ as was the relationship between God and the people of Israel. Very few of us have experienced directly physical miracles such as Manna from heaven and the parting of the Red Sea. We rely on faith; and I can imagine that faith was tested within the camps.

In our own day to day lives, I’m sure there are moments when we ask ourselves ‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’  We see friends and family suffer from illness; we hear of cruel murder and rape on the news; we witness the inhumanity of men towards each other in war, and the see millions of people in risk of starvation due to drought and conflict.

I have asked that question many times over my life.  ‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’ More specifically, ‘Is the Lord with ME, or not?’

The Lord IS among us; it’s just that unlike our reading tonight, we don’t get the ‘behind the scenes’ stuff. In the reading we hear how God tells Moses what to do. God works through Moses.  The God that put Himself in a Burning Bush to speak with Moses could just as easily made water cascade from the rock at Horeb without Moses being there. But God works with His people, with His servants, with US.

Was God amongst the people in the death camps?

Yes, he was. He was there in the presence of the German industrialist Oskar Schindler, who saved 6000 Jews from execution. God was there in the form of Maximillian Kolbe, a priest who ministered to camp inmates and finally took the place of another prisoner condemned to death. He came in the form of Ivan Martynushkin, Harry Oakes, Laurence Wand and Roger Dixey to liberate and help those inmates.

It may seem odd to us – almost cruel – that God works in this way; as an omniscient and omnipotent God it’s well within his capabilities to simply ‘deal with this’ directly. But He delegates; he responds to our unspoken questions and heartfelt prayers by letting the Holy Spirit work through humans. God isn’t just among us; God is within people around us at these dark times.

In our lives, God is among us in the form of what the American children’s entertainer Fred Rogers called ‘the helpers’: ““When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.”  I’m sure that we’ve all experienced these helpers – anonymous well-wishers, good samaritans, good friends, caring family. Folks who make things easier for us when times are desperate.

In a world that is increasingly hard and cruel for so many people, we should be ready to let the Holy Spirit work through us when God wants us to help out.  It’s doubtful that we’ll be asked to make the sacrifice made by Maximillian Kolbe, run risks like Schindler or witness the horrors seen by Ivan, Harry, Laurence and Roger.

But we can be ready and willing to let the spirit work through us, so that when people ask ‘Is the Lord among us, or not?’ we can ask that at this time, in this place, the Lord is indeed amongst us working through us.

Amen.

Reader Joe Pritchard

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Exodus 17:1-17 Romans 5:1-11

Wilderness and fruit – 5th March, 1st Sunday of Lent

Posted on by St Mary's

A beautiful garden.  Full of plants and animals.  Plenty of warmth and sunshine.  Plenty of shade when it gets too warm.  Gentle rain when needed. God creates and places two people there, to enjoy it, to tend it, to eat of its fruit.  They spend their evenings walking in the garden with God.  There’s just one rule: don’t eat the fruit from that tree in the middle of the garden.  Don’t even touch the tree!  The couple are naive.  Innocent.  Like small children.  They don’t know much.  They don’t need to know.  They don’t know what they don’t know.

Into the garden comes a snake.  He’s cunning and more worldly wise than the man and woman.  What a lovely garden!  Can you eat absolutely any fruit?

No, says the woman, we mustn’t eat from that tree in the middle, or we’ll die.

Die?  says the serpent.  Oh, no, you won’t die!  God doesn’t want you eating from that tree because otherwise you’ll become like him – it’s the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  Don’t you want to be like God?  Don’t you want that knowledge?  Look at how lovely and tasty that fruit is!

And so the woman tries the fruit.  So does the man.  And suddenly they begin to know!  The first thing they know is that they are naked and so they rush to cover themselves.  Their knowledge makes them feel shame.

Their knowledge comes at a cost.  They have tried to become like God.  But instead, they have distanced themselves from him.  No longer can they stay in the garden.  They must go out into the wide world, a world of hard work, sweat and pain.  A world in which eventually they will die.

The wilderness.  Burning hot by day.  Bitterly cold at night.  A place where little grows.  A place where few animals can survive.  A place of desolation.  A place of need.

God leads a man there.

This man is worldly-wise.  He comes from a humble family.  He’s been a refugee.  He’s grown up in a world where the differences between rich and poor, between powerful and powerless, between those who loved God and those who don’t, are all too obvious.  He knows the world is full of evil and hardship.  He knows.  And because of this, God has called him.

When this man hears God calling, he goes to the wilderness, a place of even greater hardship than his usual world, to pray and meditate over what his calling might mean.

There’s no food in the desert.  He’s hungry.  He’s alone….Or is he?

Into the wilderness comes the devil.  He comes at the point the man is feeling his hunger most acutely.  “Turn these stones into bread” he says.  The man refuses, quoting scripture “One does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God”.

The devil tries again.  “OK, so you’re not going to give into your hunger, but I know what you’ve been pondering about here in the wilderness – you believe you might be God’s Son.  Ha! Well if that’s so, jump off the top of the temple!”  Oh, and as you’re so keen on scripture, here’s a verse from me to back it up!

Again, the man resists.  “Don’t put the Lord your God to the test!”

The devil tries a third time – “You think God wants you to be king?  Come up this mountain!  Look at all those kingdoms down there.  All yours if you just fall down and worship me now!

And Jesus resists Satan a third time “Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him”

Two stories of temptation.  One set in a garden of plenty.  The other in a harsh wild place.  You want to become like God, said the tempter!  Take the easy route.  Eat that fruit.  Turn the stones into bread!  Jump off the temple!  Bow down and worship me!

Two different responses.

Adam and Eve succumbed.  They were seduced by the beautiful juicy fruit.  They thought “We wouldn’t mind being like God”  And, like a small child being told “Don’t touch that!”, they couldn’t resist seeing for themselves what would happen if they did.  And they discovered that their choice had consequences.  Suddenly life would be full of danger, hardship and responsibility.  Suddenly they were no longer close to God.

Jesus said NO!  He knew that choices had consequences.  He knew that taking up his calling from God meant taking the tougher course of action.  There was no quick, flashy route to kingship.  God’s idea of kingship was different.  No mighty power, but life as a servant, healer and friend.  No riches, but a life on the road, relying on what food could be found on the way, or on the generosity of others.  No mighty army to thrash the enemy, but hatred from his own people, desertion by his friends and then death on a cross.  But his choice led him closer to God.  No sooner had Satan gone, than angels were by him, offering him strength and support.

The world is full of temptations inviting us to do all sorts of things, promising this if only we just do that!  Jesus invites us to follow him.  He invites us to love God as he did and to love our neighbour as ourselves.  Whose invitation are you and I tempted to accept?

Reader Catherine Burchell

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Psalm 32 Genesis 2:15-17 3:1-7 Matthew 4:1-11

Transfiguration – 2 Peter 1:16-21; Matthew 17:1-9 (26th February, Last Sunday before Lent)

Posted on by St Mary's

Mountain tops are always special places.  The summit, the very top – is  a place where there is nowhere else to go except into another dimension of sky and space – or back down into the more mundane world.

Everything of the world of buildings, roads, shops, daily life – even of trees and habitations – seems far away, small and insignificant.  Sometimes cloud like a blanket may fill the valleys – leaving grey skies for those below while the mountain tops enjoy brilliant sun.

In some countries people erect massive crosses on the tops of some mountains – perhaps expressing their sense of a spiritual dimension to the mountain top.

Spiritually we refer to” mountain top experiences” such as  times of special clarity, of faith gained or renewed, of enlightenment, or joy, understanding, inspiration or hope.  Mountain top experiences are usually all too quickly followed by a need to return to the mundane and everyday.

For the disciples chosen to accompany Jesus to the mountain top where the transfiguration took place – we have to wonder what the experience meant in the days and weeks and years after the event.  We know that at the time they were struck with awe and fear and were not sure how to react.  But what of later in the months and years after the event?

The passage we have read today from 2 Peter makes it clearer what was the lasting impact on an eyewitness.

When we think of the story of the transfiguration we usually focus on the light, the brightness but it is rather the sound, the words that were heard that have most impact on our eyewitness.  The voice of God from the cloud in that moment of glory and honour and majesty says “This is my Son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him”.  It is the voice that caused the disciples to fall on the ground in fear.

Light, the shining glow was amazing but it was the voice they heard that was most incredible and awe-inspiring. The voice confirmed Jesus as the Son of God, the Christ.  Light can glow and dazzle and sparkle and astound our eyes but a voice from heaven is incredible and terrifying.

Jesus told those on the mountain with him to say nothing of what they had experienced until “after the Son of Man has been raised from the dead” which surely made no sense to them at the time.

This mountain top experience was not just a moment of amazing light and glory – it affirmed Jesus as Christ and it acted as a prophetic moment.  It linked Jesus into the whole Jewish tradition and history through the brief appearance of Elijah and Moses.  It affirmed God’s enduring faithfulness and present blessing but it also pointed forward to a time beyond that present moment – to a time the disciples could not yet know or comprehend after the resurrection and even beyond that to a time of glory in the future, the second coming of Christ.

And so we hear the eyewitness tell the early church that it would “do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place until the day dawns and the morning star arises in your hearts!”. The exhortation to be attentive to Christ was not just for those on the mountain top, but now in the post Easter, post Resurrection, post Ascension world it is for all the church.  The exhortation is to pay heed to this momentary revelation of Christ’s glory and look for its fulfilment in the second coming of the Christ. Hold fast to the prophetic dimension of the transfiguration to inspire hearts in the present and long for the light and glory of Christ to transform even the dark places of this life.

When pondering about this sermon last week I was reminded of a book I read 40 years ago for “A” Level French – Vol de Nuit by Antoine de Saint Exupery about” bush pilots” in South America flying  small mail planes through the night. These are the very early days of commercial flying and there are none of the computer aids enjoyed by pilots today. One solo pilot finds himself not just flying through the night but caught in a bad storm that blocks out all light and any landmark. Ultimately this pilot chooses to gain altitude until he finally breaks through the storm clouds to where he knows there will be light and landmarks – the moon and stars and maybe even the amazing sight of the approaching dawn.  He gains altitude to find the lights that have aided navigation throughout history.

Believing the light is there even when it seems hidden, holding on to the promise of glory can pull us through the dark times of life and draw our hearts and minds upwards to look to God and trust in his word, his truth and his glory.

This brings us to the last point made in our 2 Peter reading – the exhortation to hold to what it truly prophetic from God, to God’s word and not to ideas and interpretations just thought up by people.

True prophecy is inspired by the Holy Spirit in the words of men and women.  True prophecy enlightens our heart, emboldens us to seek after Christ.  It deepens our love for others and draws us into deeper communion with God.

The Transfiguration was not just a strange event for the benefit of a chosen few on a mountain top – it was an affirmation for all of Christ’s identity, a foretaste of Christ’s risen and ascended glory and a promise of the second coming.  It is a call to all of us to heed the word of God and to follow Christ’s way, listening to his authentic voice.

As we turn our eyes to Lent and Easter let us hold in our hearts the promise of the Transfiguration. God, incarnate in Jesus, the Christ, lived among us, died for us, and rose in glory and leads us also to glory, bringing us into the light and splendour of his glorious kingdom.

May we daily aspire to let Christ dwell in us, inspiring us, drawing us from the dark places in our lives into the transforming glory of his presence. A presence we can know now in the joy of our hearts and in the light shining in the darkness and a presence we can look forward to as a prophetic promise of eternal life in God’s unending Kingdom.

Reader Anne Grant

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

2 Peter 1:16-21   Matthew 17:1-9

 

I don’t need to go to church – Genesis 1:1 – 2:3, Psalm 136, Romans 8: 18-25 (19th February, 2nd Sunday before Lent)

Posted on by St Mary's

“I don’t need to go to church.  It is easier for me to connect with God when out in the natural world”

How many times have you heard something like that from someone you know?  I expect you have had similar experiences when you, too, have been on a beautiful beach, or on a walk in the Peak District or maybe even in our local cemetery in the Rivelin Valley.

The natural world is awesome!  We can marvel at the size of mountains or trees, at the power of the waves crashing on to the shore at the coast, at the beauty of a bird, flower or insect.  It can make us feel small compared to the vastness of the land.  It can encourage us to respect the elements, realising that we don’t have control over the weather.  We appreciate that the natural world is beautiful but can be dangerous!  Our reaction to the natural world is “Wow!”  It can lead us to feel God’s presence.  It can lead us to worship God the creator!

Sometimes our response to experiencing the awesomeness of creation is to create something ourselves.  So we might paint a picture or make something from wood, clay or cloth for instance.  We might play music or sing a song.  We might write a poem or tell a story.  Creating something of our own is good.  We get a sense of joy from it.

And through creating something ourself, we can find that it helps us to make sense of the world about us.  It helps us to tell others about our experience too.  So for generations the world over people have told stories, created paintings and sculptures and made music and drama.  And so they have passed their experiences of the created world and human life on to each other.

Sometimes we build the stories into the fabric of our buildings.  You can see this in old churches.  When many churches were built, most people couldn’t read.  So the buildings themselves told the story of the faith.  Stained glass windows, carved stonework and wooden features all told bible stories or sometimes the lives of the saints.  If you look up at the roof of the church, it’s like the inside of a boat – a reminder perhaps of the boat Jesus and his disciples were in when he calmed the storm.  Or a reminder of the sea journeys made by Paul.  Or a reminder that we are all on a voyage of faith together.  The pillars represent the ordinary people of faith from the earliest Christians nearly 2000 years ago to us here today.

Some scholars think that the Jerusalem temple told a story too.  It told the story we heard this evening, of the very beginnings of time, the well-known and well-loved story of the 6 days of creation.  You may remember me mentioning it in passing a few weeks ago.  Here’s how the scholars suggest the temple told the story:

At the front of the temple was the “Holy of Holies” – the area no-one except the high priest was allowed to enter.  This contained the ark of the covenant.  This was where God and the Holy Spirit symbolically resided.  This represented Day 1 – or a time outside of time.

On the 2nd Day the story tells us that God separated heaven from earth.  The veil separating the Holy of Holies from the rest of the temple represented this.

On the 3rd Day the story tells of God separating land and sea.  Plants and trees covered the land.  In the temple this was represented by the golden table for plant offerings – bread, wine and incense.

On the 4th Day the story tells that God filled the heavens with lights.  This is represented by the 7-branched lamp – the sun, the moon and the 5 planets known at that time.

On the 5th Day (and half of the 6th) the story tells of how God then filled the seas and skies with fish and birds.  He filled the land with animals.  In the temple this was represented by the altar of sacrifice.

And then on the 6th day, human beings, both male and female, were created to tend the earth and to take care of the animals.  And they were represented by the high priests.

The story itself reads a bit like a religious liturgy.  Notice how certain phrases are repeated…And there was evening and there was morning…the first day.  And God said:  Let there be…. And God saw that it was good.  You could imagine how as part of their worship, the people might move round the different areas of the temple, telling the story as they went.

So it seems that for ancient Israel, the temple “was” creation.  Worship in the temple protected and preserved the creation.  As long as worship was carried out in the right way, creation would be protected.  Worship and creation go hand in hand.  So we have those strange bits in some of the psalms where trees are clapping their hands, or mountains, hills and sea monsters are being encouraged to praise God.  The psalm we read this evening was a bit like that.

If the worship went wrong and the people sinned, it would have a knock-on effect on creation.  Much of the rest of the Bible focuses on this.  We are reminded in Romans 8 that creation has been marred.  God’s plans for the earth have not yet come to completion.  Creation is still going through the pains of labour, but God’s promise of new life and new birth is there.

Christians have sometimes had the reputation of not caring that much for the environment.  And this can mean that the people we try to share the Gospel message with don’t have much time for it.  Things have thankfully changed a lot over the past years – each Christian denomination now has its own environmental policy.  And today, this second Sunday before Lent, is now called “Creation Sunday”.  We are actively being encouraged to celebrate God’s work in creation.

So it’s not only ok to care for creation, it is part of our response to the God who is good.  You cannot worship God and neglect creation.  And as we care for creation, so we spread the Good News about God’s love.

Male and female, we are all called to care for creation

Male and female, we are all called to worship the Creator and to encourage others to join in.

Catherine Burchell – Reader

 

Readings for the sermon and links:

Genesis 1:1–2:3   Psalm 136   Romans 8:18-25