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’.
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
“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”.
Sermon for the Second Sunday after Trinity
25th Jun 2017
Trinity 2 Year A Semon
‘I have come to set a man against his father,
and a daughter against her mother,
and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household’
Sometimes scripture comforts us; and sometimes it is so uncomfortable that we’d rather avoid what it says. But if we are to grow in our faith and to present a faithful, mature version of Christianity to the world then we need to grapple with these difficult texts, trusting God to reveal himself to us. So why did Jesus say those things about the family which we have heard today?
‘Family life’ and the past embrace in the Church of England of ‘Family Services’ attempted to express a catch all expression for one homogenous unity, a strong bulwark against anyone or any influence which would stray from its delineated borders. The idea of family could speak of a family as a predictable set of givens, and of certainties. But at the same time families have been volatile. There are those stories of people being forever excluded when they marry someone of whom their family disapproves, and we may add the more subtle and gradual exclusion experienced by people with creeping dementia, finding as the affliction develops and their memories of the family fade, so the family forgets to include them, fails to visit, leaves them - in their neediest time - alone. There are families which have rejected and excluded gay sons and daughters and societies acting for families in marginalising them, imprisoning them and even sentencing them to death.
We see Jesus distanced himself from society’s so-called Family Values and even from his own family. He would not make an idol of the family, as the rest of society had. Time and time again in the gospels we hear him make statements like, ‘My mother and my brothers are those who hear the word of God and do it.’ or ‘There is no one who has left house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the kingdom of God, who will not get back very much more in this age, and in the age to come have eternal life.’ And today’s incendiary remarks,
‘Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me.’
So what on earth does Jesus mean by these words?
First of all, a couple of statements about what his teaching on the family is not. Whilst there will obviously be a place for the family in the future of God’s people, we must not make an idol of it, and we must be prepared to reshape it in the light of the values of God’s kingdom. . The baptised are a people exploring a new way to be human together with God : life as lived in Jesus Christ. ‘If we become one in a death like his we will certainly become one in a resurrection like his’ Romans 6.3. The is a oneness proceeding not our of blood ties but out of the one incorporation into Christ Himself.
The Baptised are not a family – the relationships actually transcend so-called family values. No wonder then that the Christian Community is referred to by St Paul, writing only two decades after the death of Christ as ‘The Body of Christ’. Here refers to a body of faithful people not identified by family or cult status but as an organic unity. Families are alive to one other, exclusively; but the baptised are to be alive to God – which is an all-inclusive, all-embracing aliveness.
This week, three events in two days have reminded me of the indispensability of human relationships which incorporate and transcend the existing bonds of family and society, ethnicity, culture and even age. The meeting with a local charity, ‘Only Connect’ which helps to rehabilitate young offenders. we spoke about the possibility of their coming to help bring our Peace Garden in Cromer Street back to life. The second, a performance at Argyle School of Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo and Juliet’ in cut down form, but with the help of The Small Opera Company, and containing elements of drama, tragedy, light opera and fabulous music and incorporating songs from ‘West Side Story’. The tragedy ends as the Montague and Capulets, the two warring families, come together as one in grief at the tragic deaths of their young ones, Romeo and Juliet. This was expressed as a reconciliation in dance. And then Friday’s visit from our students from Berkeley California and ‘hands across the sea’. At a time when we accept the warring and violent and divided world, so often a by-product of age old internal tensions, it is good to enjoy being part of a greater human whole which can delight and celebrate human diversity in all its latent beauty even and especially when the world’s pain is being so utterly manifest. Christians are especially called to live within these contrasting places.
The baptised person is not only in the middle of human suffering and muddle but in the middle of the love and delight of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. That surely is one of the most extraordinary mysteries of being Christian. We are in the middle of two things that seem quite contradictory: in the middle of the heart of God, the ecstatic joy of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit; and in the middle of a world of threat, suffering, sin and pain. And because Jesus had taken his stand right in the middle of those two realities, that is where we take ours. ‘Where I am, there will my servant be also’ (John 12.26).
The Baptised are a people joined together in relationship with God, joined together with other believers who may be in some ways quite different from you, from all walks of life, and especially the in the embracing of the poorest, the neediest, and those whom society and its nuclear families have shunned and rejected. The Christian community which we call The Church is not a self-selecting group of people; a sect. It relates to God in such a way as its energy is directed outward and away from selfish or narrow tribal instincts. The Church is to model that ambitious challenge, laid down by Christ this morning ‘Those who lose their life (in this way) will find it’.
We, the Baptised, are placed in this world to remember the forgotten ones, to include the excluded ones, to bring peace to the conflicted ones, to visit the unvisited ones, to nurture life and love and hope where family and society has failed to deliver these things. Like our Lord, breaking down barriers, transcending boundaries, muddying the waters in joyous activity - these are the marks of the Baptised, to whom we belong. It is to this that we being called.
For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. Romans 6.3
Sermon for the First Sunday after Trinity
18th Jun 2017
Sermon for the First Sunday after Trinity Year A
“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them”.Matthew 9.38
We are reminded this morning that when Jesus calls his disciples, he calls them from the larger perspective of his own compassion for all humankind. And though we see Jesus through the eye of faith, as through a window, we nonetheless come to know that Jesus’ calls from us too a compassionate response toward others which is to be practical; a job of work, an action.
I sat in this church yesterday afternoon, gazing at our east window. I looked up to it rather like contemplating a work of art. I wondered what this window was telling me? I marvelled at the age and the duration of the glass with its 125 years letting in the light and illuminating the sanctuary. After its recent cleaning it now reveals the faint green shadows of a large tree outside to the left, a part of the terracotta colour of the building opposite, and its own border of bejeweled greens and purples and ambers.
George Herbert, a poet and hymn writer, allows us to catch something of the Christian vision in his hymn ‘Teach me my God and King’. It echoes the words of the Lord’s Prayer which ask that God’s will be done on earth as it is in heaven:
A man that looks on glass
On it may stay his eye
Or if he pleaseth through it pass
And then the heavens espy.
What a different sight has revealed itself to us this week in the charred, burnt edifice that was once a happy home to 120 families. Grenfell House in Kensington. It now stands as a rebuke, a sign of death as well as a cemetery in the sky. It stands for horror and devastation. No heavens here but the sign of a kind of hell. A sign which now stands black and forlorn and colourless against the London Summer sky. Its glass is all blown out and reveals the charred skeleton of the building beneath. This is now become a death trap and a resting place for the remaining dead.
The awful truth cannot be denied, nor is there any easy explanation of the nature of such tragic events as this, even though explanations as to its cause will be rightly demanded. Where lies any possibility of human hope in all this? It must surely exist in the present. For within a burning, cavernous hell, men and women of the fire services and others went in, went back, returned to save lives, and many lives were saved by the bravery of those who were as they say ‘only doing their job’. And then on the ground, many concerned individuals, community minded groups of people from mosques and churches and individuals from near and far gave of their compassionate best to help, to shelter, to feed, to counsel, to provide places of kindness and generosity amid all that chaos. And out of this terrible situation came the writing on a great white board, containing expressions which seek to bless, to offer prayers and solidarity and tender thoughts. There are also expressions of anger and of incredulity and of profound grief, and the grief was heeded in an event, a vigil of grief, in the nearby church gardens of St John’s, Notting Hill, where people of all faiths could gather. The Vicar spoke of an experience of counselling others in grief in which the colour of green was the most significant. Some seeds of hope have been sown this week in Kensington by brave souls even while others are experiencing what might seem like the death of their hope. The contrasts are most telling but human compassion remains a balm which may always be applied with care to open wounds.
Jesus comes to us this morning in the call of his disciples. His calling is primarily to a Gospel of work in the willing response to God’s love. In the midst of human suffering and human devastation God is present and God is compassionate, and this morning his Son Jesus Christ sees the crowds and has compassion for them in the full reality of their lives. He calls the disciples and, you and me into the very orbit of his own sacred heart, to be willing agents of the divine love. The window out of which the Church looks upon the world is the one which will reflect the compassion of the One who has called us out of darkness and into light. This is a call which draws from us that which we are often so reluctant to accept and to give : the gift of ourselves for the life of the other. But it is so hard. But Christ bids us, in our own situations and in our own way, to respond. Many have unhesitatingly acted without a moment’s thought. The disciples of Christ are called to respond in similar fashion, summoned to the Gospel as a work of active and selfless compassion. Called to bring the Kingdom of God’s love near.
"Let there be a silence that is full of blossoming hints" says the praying poet Elizabeth Jennings. Let there be a love and a compassion which is transforming of the human condition, no matter where and how it is found. This is of course not a Christian message alone, but it does emerge most emphatically out of the life of Christ. We have seen so much evidence this week of how terrible tragedy can call forth real depths of self-giving which stand for the reinstatement of our common humanity as a life giving pièta. Even in life’s ruined state, may the light of love and compassion continue to shine through the darkest of places, and may the Kingdom of Heaven be realised in them.