Sermon for Remembrance Sunday 2018
11th Nov 2018
Sermon for Remembrance Sunday 2018
Wisdom 3.4 ‘Our hope is rich in immortality’.
The readings which have been set for Remembrance Sunday this year seem a little strange, and they seem only to provide subtle hints on the meaning of our Remembrance commemoration this morning. But if we are to see biblical literature in broad brush strokes, two of our readings, from the Old Testament the Book of Jonah and the New Testament Letter to the Hebrews represent an expression which is direct and unyielding. Jonah is a Jesus like figure in that for all time his rescue from the belly of the whale offers a signal pointer to the resurrection of Jesus from the dead. The writer of the Letter to the Hebrews reminds us that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on the Cross is the one true sacrifice which emerges out of God’s own love and from which all other loves depend.
For Christians the figure of sacrifice is not just a figure of speech but central to our identity as human beings. Our understanding of God is that in sending his own Son to die on the Cross we come to know what ‘the full extent of his love’. We cannot speak of God or of Jesus without recourse to the language and the acceptance of real sacrifice for the sake of others. Remembrance Sunday dares to imagine that human sacrifice on such a great scale must never be forgotten, must be always remembered, since it has the power to reconcile ourselves to ourselves and the world as it is. It is the hope of life which emerges out of death.
On Thursday of this week I was in the company for some eight hundred primary schoolchildren at the Quaker Meeting House on the Euston Road. The children had spent some weeks immersing themselves in all the material out of which this Remembrance Sunday draws its abiding strength. Out of their own witness came a great commemorative event in which wreaths of poppies and origami birds, cranes, were laid at their own giant cenotaph, after which they held their own two minutes’ silence, pledging that they become peace makers and that they walk confidently into a future in which dedicated peace-making was to be actively pursued. The schoolchildren of Camden paid homage to the dead and at the same time drew strength from the enormity of their example and sacrifice.
On this piece of paper is written the seventy-two names of mostly very young men from our own small parish who died during the Great War. We can hardly imagine that the deaths of these young men, who had no doubt come to Sunday school here at Holy Cross, and perhaps joined the Church Lads’ Brigade impacted upon this small community in King’s Cross. We may imagine the parish priest, Fr Baverstock and his curates visiting the bereaved wives and offering help to the families in their loss. The life of this parish would have been devastated by such a great dense amount of local grief. The lives of the young men who had hardly begun really living; literally cut down even before they entered their prime. And the Church had to continue to proclaim Christ and live out its God given vocation in the midst of it all.
With all the remembering of the dead the numb feelings of grief and the feeling of the utter waste of it all, which was so well and necessarily expressed by the war poets. As it is hard to imagine how it was, so it is hard to imagine the great gap between the lost hopes and dreams of the dead young men of the trenches and the hopes of the schoolchildren of present day Camden. And yet a thread runs through them which is a strong thread of hope for our common humanity and in which the grim events of the past give way to the persistence of faith and of hope. Above all the willingness to serve the greater good in the giving of oneself to the tough maintenance of active and self-sacrificial peace in whatever shape or form that might take. Discovering this vocation in our own lives in our own way and in our own sphere of activity and involvement.
A Remembrance Sunday sermon could so easily give way to pious words or empty theological assurances. This is perhaps why a silence forms the centre piece of our Remembrance Sunday observances. A silence shared by so many millions across the world and which proves more eloquent than all the words which surround it, even though these words can be important and help us in understanding of things that are very difficult to fully fathom. But the pledge and the expression; the hope for our future must be expressed and enjoined even while we remember the dead.For our hope is as the Wisdom writer reminds us, 'rich in immortality'.
Let our prayers this morning be joined with those who have gone before us and particularly our parish men who laid down their lives over one hundred years ago. May our prayers echo the hopes of today’s Camden schoolchildren, and may our own prayers today reflect something of the Christian call to diligent service and sacrifice which is the mark of the One God and of His Son Jesus Christ, who with the refreshing Holy Spirit are one God, world without end. Amen.
Sermon for the Fourth Sunday before Advent
4th Nov 2018
THE FOURTH SUNDAY BEFORE ADVENT YEAR B
“There is no commandment greater than these”. Mark 12.
I am a child of the 1960s, and I am old enough to remember what Beatle mania was like. And the song we children loved to sing, I think because it was so repetitive and catchy, was ‘All You Need is Love’. We have today to consider the well-known statement of Jesus on love. It becomes immediately obvious that he does not speak abstractly or vaguely. Instead he takes two separate statements and makes them one. The first statement concerns the being of God and the second our own being in relation to God. “You must love the Lord your God with all your heart and soul and strength and you must love your neighbour as yourself”.” On these two commandments hang the whole Law and the Prophets…” This message of love, which Christ both teaches and embodies, is the crucial turning point for human civilisation. It is a leap forward for a truer understanding of the meaning of our existence.
The Gospel writer John was to declare God to be One who not merely shows his love in the created order and in Jesus Christ. He IS love!
John’s appeal is philosophical - God is love, and in God there is nothing that is not love. He cannot be other than love. Christians understand in this way that such love is regenerative. It has in turn been given recognisable form in Jesus Christ, the One who incarnates love. He makes it flesh and blood and gives himself in love to common humanity. He can do this because He and the Father are One.
This love of God is not to be expressed in the abstractedness of a Beatle’s song; with the strains of the sitar or the advices of the Maharishi! No, it is expressed as an action which proceeds out of the human heart and towards our neighbour. But it is given and exercised freely. It is passed on from the Father to the Son to us and then to others…It is a sharing of God’s trusting charism. The radical nature of Jesus’ message is that Faith in God can make no sense without its interrelatedness to what we call ordinary or common humanity. Christianity is not a mystical eastern religion providing a spiritual way for those who are the initiated ones. Neither is it individualistic. God and neighbour exist within the one unbreakable bond of God’s love for us, his creatures. And in communion with him, this is what we come to know ‘by heart’.
But how are we to respond to what have been called these ‘impossible commandments?’ Of the commandment to love? After all we have no ready recognition of human love in which human frailty is not also powerfully at work. And that is how it must be. It is recognised in St Paul’s famous hymn to love in 1 Corinthians 13 in which he professes the very limitedness of our capacity to love. And his statement comes to us as a crie de coeur : “For now I know in part, but then I will know fully just as I also have been fully known… But there remains for us only three things: faith and hope and love. But the greatest of these is love”.
Some lines from a poem by WH Auden ring in my ears “You shall love your crooked neighbour with your crooked heart”. And then a prayer from a former Dean of Westminster,
How can I love my neighbour as myself
When I need him as my enemy –
When I see in him the self I fear to own and cannot love?
How can there be peace on earth
While our hostilities are our most
Cherished possessions –
Defining our identity, confirming our (apparent) innocence?
But equally there come to us the words borne out of St Augustine of Hippo in a declaration of confidence in the informing and influencing power of Christian Faith, and this gives us the hope we seek – The initiative remains God’s, as Augustine knew: “You have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless ‘til they find their rest in you’. .
It may be that we can only love in small ways, but even these can be significant. I once knew in King’s Cross of a Christian woman, Juliet, who was an inveterate letter writer, and a giver of beautiful cards, which express everything she hoped for in her God but were written and directed toward those she met. And they were hand written in real ink! Then there was that Dean of Westminster, Eric Abbot, a great spiritual director, whose handwritten letters and postcards to those in his care were legendary. But these are the ones who worked and made evident something we already know: It is the miracle of the nearness of God and of his love to us. These witnesses and their like make that nearness a present reality. They have always known, perhaps through painful struggle, that none of us can believe or hold to a Christian Faith in isolation. The commandment to love God and your neighbour has been termed ‘ the impossible commandment, but we must try nonetheless.
Today Jesus proclaims the inseparability and the nearness of God in the one reality of love. For Jesus the Faith is always relational. It is expressed as our longing for God and God’s longing that we become what we were made to be.
For God is Love.
The Church’s prayer is that God’s love for us comes to be, in the words of The Beatles song,
“All you Need”…
Sermon for Bible Sunday (The Last after Trinity)
28th Oct 2018
Sunday 28th October 2018
Sermon for Bible Sunday (Year B)
At the Queen’s coronation more than 65 years ago, she was presented with The Holy Bible upon which to make a solemn oath to defend the Church. The following words were said by the Moderator of the Church of Scotland:
We present you with this Book,
The most valuable thing that this world affords.
Here is Wisdom;
This is the royal Law;
These are the lively Oracles of God.
The three major monotheistic religions, Islam, Judaism and Christianity are all religions of the Book, for which the Koran, The Torah and the Bible stand as sacred texts and bear supreme authority for the faithful. As we observe Bible Sunday this morning we will be acknowledging its authority, and cheering on that significant number of Christians for whom daily Bible study has become a regular part of their routine. Over 2 million copies of Bible study notes are published each year, and Archbishop Cranmer, the author of the English Prayer Book instructs the faithful to immerse themselves in their Bible and to ‘read, mark, learn and inwardly digest’ its contents. The Bible is not only to read or studied as a sacred text. The Bible stands as the physical evidence we have of the human experience of the God’s Living Word. If ever we are perplexed by theologians or the difficulties of understanding the intricacies of Church teaching, the Bible stands for the revelation of God’s Word, which was spoken at the beginning of Creation and is seen and known in Jesus Christ. And it is Jesus himself who reminds us in this morning’s Gospel that, ‘Heaven and earth will pass away but my words will not pass away’. (24.35) The words ‘These are the very lively oracles of God’ boomed out of the Coronation Service in 1953 tell us that the Bible stands as a supreme authority for all Christians and its words and content are alive with possibility and transformative for our human condition in the present. The Bible for many, has been their close friend throughout their lives.
This week commemorates the nailing of Martin Luther’s Theses on the doors of Wittenburg Cathedral as we keep his feast this Wednesday. Symbolically this act marked the beginning of the Reformation. We must also remember the form the Reformation took in this country, and at the heart of its English version lay the introduction of the Bible translated for the first time in the English language by William Tyndale. By the early 1550s Bibles were chained to great old wooden lecterns in parish churches up and down the land and the ‘lively oracles of God’ made available to the ordinary man and woman. With the advent of printing this represented an explosive new change in the way Christians related to their churches and to God. It is very hard for us to imagine how it felt like suddenly to hear the Bible in everyday English! The Word of God had become accessible, with the possibility for its indwelling in the lives of the faithful and its rich application to the stuff of lives amid their overwhelming challenge.
The Bible has not always been read with grace. In our own time, the evidence for the misapplication of Biblical and other religious texts is all too obvious. Many choose to treat the Bible as an instrument of judgement or exclusion, and cite texts to justify their own prejudices, particularly against those who do not fit into their own Christian scheme of things. Gay men and women have fallen particularly foul of this kind of interpretation. The Bible becomes the proof text for a particular kind of moral code and this fits in neatly with the urge to define the Christian elect and to exclude those whose don’t fit into its rather neat parameters. The so-called ‘Bible belt’ in the southern United States’ has become a byword for this kind of senseless bigotry and in this context, the Bible has supplanted God and the words of the Bible used as a kind of moralising attack dog.
‘Here is wisdom, this is the royal law, these are the very lively oracles of God’. These words invite us to come to scripture with our hearts and minds open to the possibility of its meaning and to allow it to speak for itself and to us. In doing so we will surely be listening to God and immersing ourselves sin his Word. Cranmer’s injunction to ‘inwardly digest’ its contents will have us contemplate that meaning in isolation neither from its historical context nor as it may apply to our diverse and problematic world today. In this church we really do a lot of Bible – each day there are Masses and prayers and the words of scripture are always paramount. They continue that life-long conversation we have with Him and remind us of where we are coming from and, importantly, where God is coming from. Here is a check list of those elements which the Bible delivers, as a kind of life cycle:
The Bible tells us who God is.
The Bible helps us to trace our origins, from the beginning of Creation, and to speak of them.
The Bible helps us to understand what it is to be human, and how prone we are to getting it wrong.
The Bible teaches us that even though this is true, that God is understanding merciful and forgiving.
The Bible traces a certain history, of God’s chosen people, the Jews, and their story over centuries.
The Bible helps us to understand how this story, the story of our own Christian salvation, contains many twists and turns, many high and low points, but the importance of a living faith in God and of God’s faithfulness is a constant theme.
The Bible introduces us to the Psalmist and the Prophet, to the Patriarch, the almighty King, and to the people in safety and in exile; the people faithful and faithless.
The Bible leads us through the Old Testament and onto the New through the expectation of the coming of the Jewish Messiah.
The New Testament of the Bible is come through Jesus, who is not to be the Messiah that the Jews entirely expect.
The Gospels reveal Jesus to be the Son of God. That is, God in human form. He is to show us who God is while standing for the fulfilment of all that had gone before.
In showing us who God is, Jesus is to defy all expectations of ‘success’ in the matter, instead dying on a Cross, rising from the dead and instituting the transformation of faith in God in the life of self-giving love.
The Bible evidences that same God who is always with us even to the end of time.
I can’t quite present these elements as a ‘plotline’ but you can see that a distinct pattern is formed which is an ever increasing movement toward and in favour of the salvation of all souls and the transformation of lives held in captivity by their self-determination. God is always pre-eminent and holds the initiative. And, following the resurrection and the outpouring of God’s Holy Spirit, the energy of this salvation history moves ever outward and nourishes the life of God’s Church for all time. As I explain these things to you, an angel voice says to me ‘Is all this lively enough for you?’ I reply, ‘Yes, certainly’. The contents of Holy Scripture provide the dimensions, the scale and the living scope for our own salvation history and we are invited to respond.
May we read, mark, learn and inwardly digest the ‘lively oracles of God’, the Holy Bible, for here lies true wisdom and this is the royal law. May God’s Word be for us that much needed illumination, instruction and refreshment. May it be for that feeding and source of life for which are souls are in such profound need.
Sermon for the Twentieth Sunday after Trinity
14th Oct 2018
Sermon for 20th Sunday of Trinity Year B
“Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Mark 10.18, 19.
Our Gospel reminds us that we like the disciples before us, are not only to understand or ‘see’ the Christian message but also respond to it in person. We are being called into a deeper relationship with God and ourselves and our world and this is not to be ignored or set aside distractedly. It is God and not ourselves who initiates that movement of faith which brings us closer to the Kingdom.
To begin the new millennium in London, in 2000, a landmark exhibition was staged at the National Gallery. The coming third millennium provided the opportunity for a celebration of Christian time, and the title of the exhibition ‘Seeing Salvation’ showed ways of seeing and realising the centuries old Christian witness through its best paintings.
The first of these paintings shown was to be was a startling and unusual one. It was a Spanish picture, painted in around 1630 by Francisco de Zurburan and depicting a lamb trussed and placed on a slab. The title of the painting, ‘Lamb of God’ or ‘Agnus Dei’ told you what you needed to know about the subject, whilst the lamb you saw had a halo above its head. The image of the lamb is moved the audience because it appealed directly to their sense of compassion.
Christian paintings have been important in helping us to understand some deep and complex theological truths. The Mona Lisa, The Light of the World, The Last Supper, The Ceiling of the Sistine Chapel…These images are generous. They give us the time and the space and allow our imagination to rest upon them and to feel them. They help to make difficult truths real and understandable for us. Words cannot convey the meaning that images can. And so what might seem a pathetically simple image, of a lamb bound and ready for slaughter (or sacrifice?) becomes one that speaks of a deep sense of mortality and of loss, but here bound inevitably to the life and sacrificial death of Jesus Christ. Zurburan’s gaze and his intention is unrelenting and searching. It echoes the words of the Old Testament Reading from Isaiah, who spoke about a Messiah who would be a sacrificial lamb.
“He was oppressed, and he was afflicted, yet he did not open his mouth. He was brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he did not open his mouth.” (Isaiah 53: 7-8)
Jesus is for ever the Lamb of God. We sing about every week in church at the Agnus Dei.
“Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi….” ”Lamb of god, who takes away the sins of the world….”
We have another ‘Lamb of God’ image in our stained glass window in this church, designed and made by Martin Travers in 1920. He created this image three hundred years after Zurburan and yet the message is still rather similar. Travers has the Christ in poor majesty wearing an amber coloured cloak and carrying a lantern, the light of the world, and this time the lamb is carried on his own shoulders. The lamb Jesus bears as the good shepherd also alludes to the lamb of sacrifice. His cloak is riven with thorns and nails. The Christ wears a crown of thorns, his hands bear the stigmata or wounds and a single tear appears out of the corner of his eye.
Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows? Isaiah 53.4
Today’s Gospel message is that it is not sufficient just to ‘see’ salvation. It also has to be acted upon. In our Gospel reading the paintings and their meaning are given owe a necessary debt to Christ’s teaching for a discipleship which is sacrificial. We understand this in terms of servanthood and service. If the saving death is sacrificial then the Christian action is also sacrificial. It is a radical message because it reverses accepted notions of status and rank. It calls us out of ourselves and toward the other. The rich young man goes away shocked and then depressed because though he obeys every bit of the law Jesus suddenly challenges him to sell all his possessions. We do not know whether he did so, only that he went away from Jesus disconsolate. It is by the way of self-giving that we lose ourselves to find ourselves. It is by costly self-giving that lives are transformed into God’s likeness. It is by these means that the Christian Church becomes Christian at all. Here is a twentieth century interpretation of these words by Dr Martin Luther-King:
“He (Jesus) transformed the situation by giving a new definition of greatness. And you know how he said it? He said, “Now brethren, I can’t give you greatness. And really, I can’t make you first.” This is what Jesus said to James and John. “You must earn it. True greatness comes not by favouritism, but by fitness. And the right hand and the left are not mine to give, they belong to those who are prepared. Prepared to serve. ( Amen)
And so Jesus gave us a new norm of greatness. If you want to be important—wonderful. If you want to be recognized—wonderful. If you want to be great—wonderful. But recognize that he who is greatest among you shall be your servant. (Amen) That’s a new definition of greatness.
The Church of Christ in the new third millenium must proclaim this ‘new definition of greatness’. But so that this proclamation doesn’t become two dimensional it must be a true proclamation which is continually informed and enriched and enlivened by that Christian vision of the Christ, the Lamb of God, the one who has known suffering and who is therefore able to contain it, transform it and bring it to its true fruition through forgiveness of sins and the reconciliation of the self and the soul. The Church is to be one of the vital places where this service of self-giving is to be seen and known and trusted. It is the visible reminder of the Christian salvation at work, alive and active in those, like you and I, who have seen salvation and have now been called to act upon it, but not in our strength or will alone, but by God’s grace and through his mercy.
Sermon for the Nineteenth Sunday after Trinity
7th Oct 2018
THE NINETEENTH SUNDAY OF TRINITY YEAR B
‘God…for whom everything exists and through whom everything exists’.
Today is set aside for us to spend some time thinking about the creation. Our readings speak to us about God as our Creator. We are reminded that God ‘has given everything its place in the world, and no one can make it otherwise’. Never before have the questions surrounding the created order and the earth’s manner of survival been more urgently sought and expressed with the effects of global warming, deforestation and the spending of irreplaceable fossil fuels. These represent permanent losses. They are very uncomfortable realities because they challenge our sense of place as inhabitants of planet earth. They challenge us to become more aware of our true place in the created order and to a recognition of our proper responsibilities. If we bear within ourselves the likeness of God then so does our earth and now it seems we are witnesses to its becoming scarred and diseased. For Christians this offers the reminder that we inhabit this earth and we see it as God’s creation. It seems we must care.
It is possible to crack open a piece of unpromising rock and to gaze upon the skeleton of an animal that lived on this planet 500 million years ago. This is truly awesome! Charles Darwin gazed in awe but also came to a scientific conclusion: he realised that the created order was in a continual state of becoming and adapting, and that each species grew and changed according to its environment, and it grew and changed over impossible stretches of time. It was therefore possible to trace the origins of Man’s existence back through millions of years of development from ape-like creatures. Darwin’s ‘Origin of the Species’ rocked the certainties of the Victorian Christian mind-set. It lay bare, like that 500 million year old skeleton, a reality that was raw and uncomfortable and yet strangely awesome. The foundations of the thinking about who you were and where you had come from were well and truly shaken. The questions of our existence were bigger and tougher than anyone had ever thought possible. But nonetheless this new science did not shake the minds of those who, through faith in God, were seeing the world from a deeper perspective and that our existences were not to be explained by science but understood it and through the light of faith in the Creator, God.
The language of ‘Genesis’ a name which signifies the tracing of our origins, speaks of where these true origins lie. And when we have traced the outline of our origins in God, we discover one thing about our existence and its meaning : that we are not the sole providers of our existence. We can work out how things are but there remain many unanswered questions about why we are here, who we are, and what we are in relation to one another. These questions belong uniquely to the human race, and they are questions which remain only partially answered. There are questions we ask ourselves which only find their answer through the passage of time. Life presents itself as factual (remember ‘The Facts of Life’) and yet it is also mysterious and strange. Even the person we know and love the most can seem a mystery to us at times. What would human existence feel like if in our relations with one another there were some complete kind of knowing? It wouldn’t somehow be human, would it, even with artificial intelligence!? Likewise human existence cannot be explained away in a theory. St Paul reminds us of this in his ringing hymn to love in 1 Corinthians 13 that,
“Now we see through a glass darkly, but then, face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood”.
If the proof for all human living is not exacted out of mere scientific enquiry but emerges out of God, then we come to see things in a new perspective. It echoes the words of George Herbert’s famous hymn ‘Teach Me, My God and King:
A Man that looks on glass
On it may stay his eye
Or if he pleaseth through it pass
And then the heaven espy.
It offers a way of describing the Christian Vision which are offers a deeper sense of things, drawn not from reason but from contemplation. There is much that cannot be certified or proved. So much must be understoood other than just the provable. The Christian way of seeing things is a special way of seeing. It is a kind of sustained gaze, a sustained examination and contemplation of things so that in this seeing, ordinary understanding may deepen faith.
There has been one rare example of a person who managed to convey this deeper things in his own manner of living. St Francis, whose feast day we celebrated a few days ago, is important to Christians as a radical. As a child I remember our church and its statue of St Francis stroking the feared wolf of Gubbio, the one he had tamed. St Francis was for any child a favourite saint because of his love of animals and of the natural order. But underlying this was Francis’ gift of seeing and experiencing the natural order as bearing the likeness and the love of God. He was intensely aware that written into the created order was the image, the imprint of the divine likeness. He often gave the earth’s elements a gender as in ‘brother earth, sister moon’ because for him an experience of creation could only be a deeply personal experience. Where there is deep prayer so there is a certain sensitivity to the fine details of our created order. As you looked upon the creation, care for it, and learn to love it, you are in a sure way at one with its Creator. This is a spiritual response.
For Francis this went further, to acts of charity to the poor, the homeless and the hopeless which were encounters with the divine love as it was found in Jesus Christ. This was a putting into action that Christian vision which made God real and apparent in the present. In such an exchange God could be known and recognised for his own sake. He could be made visible. This was an incarnating of the love of God in a way which was recognisable. It was radical because it was uncompromising. And it is still radical. The call we still have, centuries later is the one in which through our own acts and decisions we can make God real in and with and through the One who has made all things as the writer of the Hebrews puts it in our second reading ’God’…’for whom everything exists and through whom everything exists’.
Let us make a pledge in this Eucharist. As in our worship we give ‘worth-ship- to God, so too may we give ‘worth-ship’ to those all those with whom we have contact and to all those we have to deal, so that God may prove indeed to be our ‘all in all’. For God is no theory, he is as real as you are and as our world is.