Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Trinity

30th Jul 2017

Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Trinity Year A


The God who gives himself for us and who feeds us…


In Matthew's account of the feeding of the multitude, Jesus is moved with compassion to heal the people (v. 14). In Mark he is moved to teach them (Mark 6:34). Both aspects are important and interrelated. The Lord loves us and wants to heal and teach us. This he does supremely in the Eucharist. He feeds and teaches us at the altar of Christ’s sacrificial love. We cannot grow spiritually unless we are being taught - through the Word of God and through the teaching of the Church. And this is a teaching which may prove healing, too.


Christians of the 4th Century period built monasteries, churches and shrines in Galilee and on the shores of the Sea of Galilee to commemorate the ministry of Jesus and the miracles ascribed to him. Tabgha – an Arabic corruption of the Greek name Heptapegon (Seven Springs) – is the traditional site of the Miracle of the Multiplication of the Loaves and the Fishes. (Matt. 14: 13-21) It is situated in a narrow, fertile valley on the northern shore of the lake, watered by several springs.


The earliest building at Tabgha was a small chapel (18 x 9.6 m) from the 4th century CE; only a part of its foundations was uncovered. This was probably the shrine described by the pilgrim Egeria at the end of the 4th century:


In the same place (not far from Capernaum) facing the Sea of Galilee is a well watered land in which lush grasses grow, with numerous trees and palms. Nearby are seven springs which provide abundant water. In this fruitful garden Jesus fed five thousand people with five loaves of bread and two fish. The stone upon which the Master placed the bread became an altar. The many pilgrims to the site broke off pieces of it as a cure for their ailments.


The monastery and church at Tabgha were destroyed in the 7th century, probably during the Arab conquest of the country, and buried beneath a thick layer of silt and stones. In the 1980s, after excavation, the church was restored to its Byzantine form, incorporating portions of the original mosaics. The existing church is called ‘The Church of the Multiplication of Fishes’ and stands as a powerful reminder of the way in which God provides for our basic and essential need.


Our experience of the one great act of worship in this church is of the receiving of the sacred elements of bread and wine at the Sunday Eucharist. In it there is a promise. It is that we become what we received, bearers of Christ himself. As we end the Mass we pledge our willingness to live and work to God’s praise and glory. To share that which we have received and so to multiply the means of grace so that it may be transformed into glory.


I knew a woman who had lost her son. He had committed suicide. She was beside herself with grief. She was a devout churchwoman and this seemed to make her grief not better but worse. She was in a state of great confusion. She felt the expectation that she should be able to bear all these things as befitted her well-known status as ‘a pillar of the Church’ and a proper Christian. But this was not the case. She felt the loss of her beloved Son the more keenly. People kept on asking her about how she felt. This soon proved difficult to accept. In her grief there was to be no known or ready-made set of consolations. But at a crucial point, early on in her grieving, her Vicar, whom she had known for many years, came to her home one day while she was out shopping. He left on her doorstep a beef casserole which he had made and with it a small message. The body and the soul are not so much different, are they? Neither are our need for physical and spiritual sustenance. Both need feeding from their true source, which is God and from his helpers.


That woman recounted to her kindly Vicar many months later that it was that gift, of the casserole dish with its food waiting on her doorstep, which spoke louder than words could at that time, and remained for her human and memorable, and yes, God given.  Its kindliness stood for that sharing of loves, that staple diet, informed by the Word of God and of his teaching, which blesses us, sustains us and gives us hope. 

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday afterTrinity

23rd Jul 2017

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Trinity Year A


“…And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit”. 

                                                                           Romans 8.30.



In today’s reading we come to know that The Church from the beginning had always considered its authority to be a spiritual authority which governed the hearts and minds of the faithful. All other earthly authorities were considered significant but secondary to the one which acknowledged God as first before all things. In our first reading King Solomon asks God not for riches or power but for wisdom. He is granted wisdom because he understands wisdom. And this wisdom is the one in which consideration of God’s presence and purpose in life lies foremost in the mind and the heart and colours and shapes all life. But in contemporary society and in the wake of Richard Dawkins and his idea of ‘The God Delusion’, faith and trust in God is undermined by ill-conceived doubt and cynicism. More than ever the Christian Church needs to be seen and heard for the joyful faith that its practices bring and for the deep wisdom that is embedded in the Christ who has offered himself unto death in the service of others.


St Peter’s Church Belsize Park is a very large mid-Victorian Anglican Gothic Church. I was some years ago there to attend an Ethiopian Orthodox liturgy on their own Feast of St Gabriel. The church was full to bursting with at least 3 or 400 people, almost all dressed in white and already hours into a liturgy that had begun with fasting at 3 am that morning. The place was stiflingly hot and as soon as I entered the building I was asked by a veiled woman to remove my shoes, and then I was led to the sanctuary where many deacons and priests and bishops presided over a liturgy which was both formal and informal. Formal in that it was purposeful and full of song and dance and prayer with drums and cymbals. Informal in that the clergy seemed to decide upon what they should do next through a series of facial and hand gestures. One of the priests took me aside and explained to me that this Ethiopian Orthodox Liturgy was practised in the first century after the Resurrection of Christ, and it had not changed. This ancient Ethiopian Orthodox Church pre-dates the Latin Catholic church by centuries. I had arrived at a certain time but the liturgy was to continue for longer than I think anyone expected, with a Eucharistic sharing and even a wedding taking place with bride and groom wearing crowns and dressed in white as virgins. It though one was entering  a church which had never lost its sense of itself with the passage of time. It was like stepping into another world and another place in time. The joy and the sheer passion and fervour with which the liturgy was celebrated was deeply inspiriting and very moving. It provided for me a reminder of the holiness of the Christian Church and of its obligation to remain true to its holy calling. Its worship should be a heart-felt expression of thanksgiving for the love of God and not, as may so often happen, an event which may engage the mind and certain surface attention, but not feed the soul and the deeper sense in which God’s holy presence is offered to us as a living miracle. It should exist of itself before ever our own moods, meanings or responses are attached to its actions.


I hear the words from our epistle this morning, the words of encouragement and instruction which St Paul gives to the embattled Christian community in Rome. They are words which direct the believer to a surer knowledge and experience of God who lies closer to the heart of our being than we are ever prepared to allow. These words direct us to attend to the existence of God whose presence and purposes lie in the here and now and yet who is all mystery and who is sensed in ways and places subliminal to our ready knowledge of things. “And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the spirit”. “Bidden or not bidden”, said Jung, “God is present”.


For God’s presence is truth-bearing and truth-making. And as such it is liberating and refreshing. It gives newness of life. This is not the kind of truth which is self-justifying, but the truth which liberates you from your own vanity. No wonder then, that Solomon when asked by God what he might be given asks merely for ‘the discernment to judge between what is good and evil’. In his existing wisdom, Solomon’s request is the one echoed in an old and often recited prayer. This is the one which says “May the divine assistance remain with us always, and may the souls of the faithful through the mercy of God rest (or remain) in peace. This, I once thought, was a prayer for the dead. But it is a prayer for those of us very much alive. Peace is the gift given to the one for whom real life is the one lived in co-habitation and co-operation with the Creator God in Jesus Christ. The blessed life is the one which remains open to the possibility of the divine assistance. This is a call to see God in all things and in all people, and to see the world as it is and find that everlasting presence which divines the world’s true being.

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Trinity

16th Jul 2017

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday after Trinity Year A


“To set the mind on the flesh is death, but to set the mind on the spirit is life and peace”  Romans 8.5


The contrast drawn between flesh and spirit is ancient and certainly not accidental. Language relating to ‘the spirit’ will suggest an invitation to come to know and experience God as a reality. More than ever Christianity finds itself set within a sea of unbelief and is confronted by a whole new generation which remains, by and large, unchurched. Many find the idea of spirituality positive - but mere religion delivers a negative charge. Many baulk against what they call ‘organised religion’ and even those who call themselves Christian-minded, do not necessarily want to go to church. In response to this many clergy choose to ‘dumb down’ Christian services to appeal to the lowest common denominator and offer distraction, emotion and a sense of security. This approach might yield some increase in human numbers but turns out to offer ‘thin’ experience. It satisfies at the ordinary level but does not feed the soul in the longer term. It offers a sense of security and uplift and even ecstatic and emotional experience but its expression is sensual rather than spiritually grounded. It refuses to be confronted by the God who is not biddable.


I don’t think any of this is new. The impetus of Jesus’ teaching regarding the sower and the seed is the one which responds to the very real and existent spiritual ambivalence of his day. But it also reminds us of the gift of faith which is as present as the seed is to the sower. Jesus knows at the very least that he is not ‘preaching to the converted’ but to a people whose lives are tough and whose outlook is realistic and who will not be fobbed off by religious platitudes. Having said this they are a people do seek after God, in their own way they have ‘ears to hear’ – they like us, have an instinct for a spiritual teaching which rings true both for their lives and for their understanding of God. The Church in our own time must not ignore the fact that its central task is not to find numerous ways to attract new followers but to teach and to practice the Christian Faith that from the perspective of the spirit rather than the flesh. It must learn once to be a  Church whose actions and outreach emerge out of a contemplative and prayerful base. The pattern of Jesus’ teaching is the one which understands the realities of life but which offers no easy consolation, not a way out but a way through all that comes our way. It is for Christ that the Church sustains its life and this is Good News for all who come to seek God.


If the spirit of Him who raised Jesus from the dead dwells in you, He who raised Jesus from the dead will give life to your mortal bodies also through his spirit that dwells in you. Romans 8.11


The recourse to the Church is not as a bunker but as turning a key to a door that leads out to new life. A sure pathway has been provided by Pope Francis. It is the one which expresses the never ending presence of God’s mercy. There is a ready acknowledgement here that Christian lives, are not different from any other lives. Christians who have found faith have not been magically relieved of life’s pain and conflict and complexity. Pope Francis found the image of the Virgin who unravels knots a particularly compelling one since it does not simplify our view of the Christian life but makes it more complex and interesting. It acknowledges the many ways in which we experience our own past as a rough, tough terrain which is in sore need of understanding and healing. Our human nature is understood NOT from the starting point of its perfectability but from an understanding of its vulnerability and hence the need for God’s loving mercy. We come to God, we turn to Christ from the starting point of the little that we are and the need we have of understanding and healing. The words from our Gospel ring particularly true That which is of the flesh is death, and that which is of God’s wellspring of mercy is spirit and is life.


Paul Vallely’s biography of Pope Francis is entitled ‘Untying the Knots’ and the writing of this biography is not from the point of view of an ascending  scale of achievement but instead sees his life’s ministry as a flawed one in which grave mistakes have been made and owned. Pope Francis admits to all this in a spirit of repentance, sure in the mercy of God, and ready to come to God each day as a Christian who is both penitent, and as the hymn says, ‘ransomed, healed, restored and forgiven’. Refreshed and healed. Made new to serve Him. The ancient breach between the flesh and the spirit is being healed through Christ’s merciful future providing love.

We are being called to set our minds on that which is of the Spirit, and which brings life.


The parable of the sower and the seed is a reminder that the Word of God comes to the individual’s often faltering Christian faith in a rough, tough human environment. The seed of Christian Faith, planted in human hearts, is the one which, in the face of the dead hand of atheism and the sure measurements of social science, stands for lives which may find a real feeding and a real meaning from their very source, God himself.



From the Didache (1st Century)


Father, we thank Thee Who has planted

Thy holy name within our hearts.

Knowledge and faith and life immortal

Jesus Thy Son to us imparts.

Thou, Lord, didst make all for Thy pleasure,

Didst give man food for all his days,

Giving in Christ the bread eternal;

Thine is the pow'r, be Thine the praise.


Watch o'er Thy Church, O Lord, in mercy,

Save it from evil, guard it still,

Perfect it in love, unite it,

Cleansed and conformed unto Thy will.

As grain, once scattered on the hillsides,

Was in this broken bread made one,

So from all lands Thy church be gathered

Into Thy kingdom by Thy Son.




Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Trinity

9th Jul 2017

Fourth Sunday of Trinity  Year A


Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and humble in heart’.

Matthew 11.28


There are  three qualities our Blessed Lord seeks in those who would be his followers. Jesus looks for simplicity, he looks for faith, and he looks for trust. It’s clear that he values simplicity in his disciples when he says, "I give praise to you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, for you have hidden these things from the wise and the learned and have revealed them to little children. Yes, Father, such has been your gracious will." God’s grace is given in humility: simplicity of heart and mind. This is the foundation of our understanding of the nature of God in relation to us his creatures.


Gentle Jesus meek and mild

Look upon a little child

Pity my simplicity

                     Suffer me to come to thee.     Charles Wesley.


The event which was the occasion for this remark of Jesus was the return of the 70 disciples after they had been sent by the Lord to preach the Gospel, to heal the sick and to cast out demons. They were ordinary folk like you and me; but in all simplicity, they opened their hearts to God’s grace, allowing him to work through them, so that his mercy might be made manifest in them. When they return, they are full of wonderful stories of success. "Lord, even the demons are subject to us in your name!" Jesus gives praise to the Father for revealing his power through them and the effectiveness of their witness.


True simplicity is not only for those who live in humble circumstances. Simplicity is an attitude of mind. It means wearing your gifts and talents lightly, ascribing all that you have to the goodness and providence of God with a thankful heart and a spirit that knows peace. In this lies are true freedom, for without this we remain ungrateful or as one hymn puts it “frail earthen vessels and things of no worth”. We have been made in God’s image and we reflect that image in our own readiness to be open and seeing and hearing and in our dealings with others. In short, this means imitating the humility of Jesus as he is described by the prophet Zechariah in today’s first reading: "See, your king shall come to you; a just savior is he, Meek, and riding on an ass, on a colt, the foal of an ass." It means that we return to the old Sunday School hymn and find in the gentle and meek Jesus that docility of spirit whose mind and heart is listening and alert and receptive. St Paul can say that this is a garment we must wear:


Put on therefore, as God's elect, holy and beloved, a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering… Colossians 3.12.


Our Gospel reveals that Christ looks also for faith in his followers. He makes a tremendous claim in this passage. He claims to be the Son of God: "All things have been handed over to me by my Father. No one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son wishes to reveal him." Nowhere does Jesus make a greater claim than this. It is a sublime truth that the man Christ Jesus is in fact God the Son, the second Person of the Most Holy Trinity. But to receive this truth requires the gift of faith: no one can know this unique relationship between God the Father and his only-begotten Son except those "to whom the Son chooses to reveal him."


I always find hymns very encouraging, and particularly the singing of hymns, and even more particularly my favorite hymns are those which express something of our own unknowing in the face of the greatness of God. “How shall I sing that Majesty”, “Immortal, Invisible, God Only Wise”, “Jerusalem the Golden” and others have all been written to express the strong sense of our own unknowing. But this is not a place where all hope and longing is excused. No, in the faith of Christ our hope and our longing is mixed and merged with what in God we know and what we cannot know. Faith makes it possible, but not just faith alone, blind faith, but faith in and through Our Lord Jesus Christ and in and through his promise of mercy. Ours is a faith seeking understanding.


The Lord Jesus also looks for trust. He wants us to trust him enough to give him our burdens and to receive his refreshment in return: "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart; and you will find rest for yourselves. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."


This image of a yoke is a very beautiful one. A "yoke of oxen" was always a pair of animals joined together by a smoothly shaped piece of wood. This was the yoke. It was placed on the shoulders of the animals and fastened under their necks. By means of this simple apparatus, two oxen (with minds of their own) could work together, accomplishing with half the effort a difficult job such as plowing a field or pulling a heavy load. Typically, the two beasts of burden would be matched in strength and temperament and share the burden together. The yoke is that which is emblematic of a burden shared “bare one anthers burdens and so fulfil the law of Christ”. In this we adopt the servant’s role, and the gentleness and meekness, especially in the face of human antagonism or resentment if transforming of relationships because it is a transforming of their understanding.


Today, once again, we hear this generous invitation from our Blessed Lord: Learn from me to be simple, "for I am meek and humble of heart." Learn from me to have faith, because I have revealed my Father to you. And learn from me to trust, because "my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Let us then learn these things, that we may fulfil the great words of St Augustine “Thou hast made us for thyself, and our hearts are restless ‘til they find their rest in thee’.



Sermon for the Third Sunday after Trinity

2nd Jul 2017


Trinity 3 Year A


Romans 6.12-23

Matthew 10.40-42



“Whoever welcomes you welcomes me and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me”. Matthew 10.40.


In this morning’s gospel Jesus repeats the word ‘welcome’ and reminds us that at its heart, The Christian Faith remains a welcoming faith. In other words, it’s not the possession of any individual or group and its attitude is always inclusive and reaching out in welcome. It invites us to step out of the strange and the unfamiliar and into the realm of radical inclusion. And to be included is to be accepted for who you are. To be included is to belong. To belong within the Christian community is to belong not only to your Christian brothers and sisters but also to find that belonging in God. And to find belonging in God is to be healed and to be hopeful. And so Jesus can say with confidence “whoever welcomes any of my disciples welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the one who sent me”. It is to be, for us and for Christ, an intensely personal invitation. As the song from the musical ‘Oliver!’ goes, ‘Consider yourself at home, consider yourself one of the family’.


Jesus gives us the example of a disciple who welcomes his guest from the hot dusty road and then follows up with the offer of a cup of cold, refreshing, water.  And in Jerusalem today it is quite common when you are browsing in one of the religious souvenir shops to be invited by the owner to sit down and share some coffee (this also happens to be a good sales ploy, too!). And it is worth mentioning that the three great religions of the world, Moslem, Jewish and Christian all place high status on the giving and receiving of hospitality and welcome. All express the need to see the world through the eyes and with the mind and the voice of someone other than yourself; it comes as a desire for deeper communion. In 2007 the Bishop of London and I shared coffee during Ramadan with local Muslim and Somali leaders at what was then the Somali-owned Cromer Street Café.


Christian Faith is a Faith of welcome and hospitality, because this binds us together. But more importantly it derives from the oneness that exists between the Father and the Son, whereby God is called ‘Abba’. Think of how many Gospel stories involve shared hospitality: the Wedding feast at Cana, the multiplication of the loaves and fishes, and of course the Last Supper and the supper at Emmaus and the woman sharing water with Jesus at the well. Each occasion not only binds together  the participants but also tells us more and more about Jesus. And so the occasion for hospitality and for shared meals becomes the occasion in which Christ is very specially present, and this is truest this morning as we share in this Eucharistic meal. “We break this bread to share in the body of Christ” we say,  “Though we are many we are one body, because we all share in one bread”... To be hospitable is to practice generosity at it most accessible.


Last Sunday I attended a celebration event for the Muslim observation of Eid, marking the ending of Ramadan. It took place in a Leisure Centre in Swiss Cottage. But this was no ordinary religious gathering, since it included residents who had the night before evacuated their homes from the nearby Chalcots Estate. Members of the police, Camden Council, volunteers and local care agencies and Christian and other leaders were present, including the new Mayor. This Muslim religious feast was transformed into something much, much more. Local restaurants had managed to supply the food displaced residents were being supported and a lot of close and no doubt reassuring conversations were taking place. The new Leader of Camden Council, the young Georgia Gould addressed the gathering with real authority and with words of care and calm. It was very impressive. I must say I had believed that councils like Camden have, over the past ten years assumed something of a bunker mentality with a depersonalised service. An example of this is that it is now almost impossible to get face to face or one to one contacts to answer queries or grievances. My experience has been that you leave your communication online only for it never to be answered. The ubiquitous online facility promises efficient and easy access but in fact delivers very little, and being radically impersonal, only contributes to a feeling that councils and the people they serve, and especially the poorer citizens, have voices that are not being heeded. The Grenfell Tower fire has of course challenged councils not only to re-think their building policy but also to begin, after what seems like a long time, to listen once more to the lives and voices of those people which have been treated as a kind of unwanted and unheeded static.


At the wider level, people in modern life feel the need of communities of hope which exist to offer a real sense of welcome and of belonging. Places of ingathering and of thoughtfulness, of wisdom and sensitivity and of care. Places of rest and refreshment. Places of real inclusion. Perhaps for the many, God-filled places, too. This is a challenge to the current state of affairs in which, grid-like, impersonal solutions are delivered to human problems online (that is, if you can get through), and the answer to the human voice is pre-set on a list of aggregate responses displayed on your computer (if you have one) as an unappetising à la carte menu. The needful questions ‘they’ think you are asking have already been anticipated. There is no expectation of any meaningful contact or involvement other than one already predicted. It’s the exclusion of responses in which human contacts are real and transactions are verbal (spoken), listening (heard), sympathetic (shared), and taking the person seriously (understanding). The Feast of Eid meal at the leisure centre gives the evidence in our diverse London communities of an upsurge of strong community spirit and a real willingness to find ourselves in one another, and finding in shared voices and hopes and fears that place where God wants us to be.


More than ever, the Church at the parish level, our church here at Holy Cross, is in the best position to offer itself as a real and kind place at the local level where all may find a welcome. This is a vision, as one of our parishoners reminded me last week, of ‘…a Church in this country for everyone, no matter what their circumstances or affiliations’. This is the hope and the call to service for a more Godly and God-like Church, a Church which is become radically inclusive. A Church which reaches beyond itself to find itself. And in this way we pray in today’s collect that we may serve Christ and our common humanity in this way:


“Give us grace to dedicate our freedom to your service, that we and all creation may be brought to the glorious liberty of the children of God”.





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