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Sermon for the Third Sunday of Epiphany 2020

26th Jan 2020


Epiphany 3   (2020)

 

 

One thing I have asked of the Lord that I will seek after: to live in the house of the Lord all the days of my life.

 

                                                                             Psalm 27.4

 

 

At the beginning of each year I have often gone off to spend a few days in a monastery. It always feels like a good time to get away for a few days and to be quiet and get my head straight – it has become for me a time of reflection, and a kind of spiritual detox after the rush and tear of the Christmas festivities. I used to visit a monastery, which is about two hours from London.  It would always took me about a day before I could get quiet and to ‘centre down’. I would then begin to hear things that I don’t hear in my usual distracted state. I would begin to see things a bit more clearly and notice things that would otherwise pass me by.

 

Life today, whether we live it alone or in family groups, with partners or friends, whether our lives are frantically busy or whether we spend more time alone is said to be more stressful that it’s ever been. This stress can gnaw away at us, and sap vital energies. The ‘phone might ring and it could as easily be a friend or loved one who is offering a welcome ‘hello’ or as possibly the offer to reconnect you to another gas supplier at a discount rate, or a wrong number. A letter through the door might be sent with loving greetings or it might be another one of those letters offering you a platinum or diamond credit card, telling you that you have only to subscribe to Reader’s Digest and you could win a holiday for two in the Bahamas. All sorts of things can go wrong during the day and many of them are seemingly inescapable.

 

After my first day at the monastery this time I became aware not only of the quietness but also of the fine detail of my surroundings, and in particular of the way in which the monastery chapel is built. It’s actually only twenty years old but it resembles an old medieval barn; made entirely of wood. It has huge wooden oak beams and buttresses held together by wooden pegs which have been hammered in at strategic places. The whole structure has been made from seasoned and matured oak, which when originally used for building I’m told is really quite soft. It has to be weathered and is left out of doors for two or three years before it’s used.  The oak is an organic material which expands and contracts with the atmosphere and then hardens, and then becomes very hard and becomes a tough skeleton that will is likely to last for centuries. I was reminded of the hymn to God as ‘the strength and stay upholding all creation’. The skeletal planks are held together and underpinned by flimsy little wooden pegs or wedges, and these are placed strategically where joints need to be secured. And these joints are more than capable of holding up and holding together the strong pressures and forces that push against them. Just like the human body. The apparent cracks that you see in the wood aren’t cracks at all but wooden stretch marks. This is a result of the building’s having expanded and contracted. It literally grows into its place. It lives!

 

That barn, that place of worship, was a visual sign for me for the existence of the Church as a body of faith and an organic whole. It was like an upturned boat or the inside of Jonah’s whale. What holds us together is the unity God gives us in this Holy Eucharist with the diversity and the particularity of our existences and our own loves.  The Church is not just a secret sect, a holy club, a society of friends, or a company of religious junkies.  We are the body of Christ, knit together, bonded and united and made into an organic whole in this celebration of Holy Communion as we are receive Christ under God’s roof. It is in the wholeness, the completeness of God that our lives find their wholeness and completeness. The Creator and the created (you and me) become one, and as this union is formed, as it is experienced in worship, so it allows the faith and hope and love in us to be built up, not withstanding the odd signs of wear and tear. This morning’s psalmist expresses this great movement as a prayer of desire, a desire that he live in the house of God all the days of his life.   The poet William Blake puts in human and practical terms when he says,  “We are put on this earth a little space to learn to bear the beams of love”. 

 

In the middle of this service we share a sign of peace with one another, a greeting; usually a handshake, and this is begun when the priest says ‘We are the body of Christ. By one spirit we were all Baptized into one body. Let us endeavour to keep the unity of the Spirit in the Bond of Peace.’ This unity and these bonds are like those wooden pegs that hold the structure together, and we shake hands or sometimes wave if someone is marooned by the pews or even now and again there is a hug (or at the extreme end of things a peck on the cheek!). These are our signs of peace. Life today places us under inevitable and often great strain, and the reaching out, the offering of the hand in the sign of peace is an expression of solidarity with the those outside of yourself, the wider community, whose members who have all at some time or another suffered the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune and who are like you also ‘bearing the beams of love’.  Commitment to the Christian community and the giving of the self that goes with it has brought great richness of experience and increase of love and enlightenment and peace in its wake. But crucially it celebrates and goes to the heart of life as it is lived. Christians aren’t idealists. This is the way of Christ. It is in his teaching. We are as a living Church his body on earth. We are ‘bearing the beams of love’.

 

 

Orison

 

It is the holding together that is hard –

The resisting of the centrifugal forces

Acting on mind and heart

That break the tenuous links of thought and feeling.

And then there is the fear (which on black days

Transmutes itself into a dark seducer

Parodying hope) that the next revolution of the hand

Upon the sadly common clock

Will bring the final, the inoperable rupture,

and burst the dams of past

And present

And future pains.

It is the holding you must help us in:

We cannot enter heaven in fragments

The gates will not allow of that.

And you must give the means to keep it

If you love us, as I fear you do.

 

Father John Ball,

Parish Priest, Holy Cross Church,

1969-1977.



Sermon for the Second Sunday of Epiphany 2020

19th Jan 2020


Sermon for the Second Sunday of Epiphany

Year A

 

“They said to him “Rabbi” (which translated means teacher), “Where are you staying?” He said to them “Come and see”.  John 1.39

 

In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus beckons us find God in The Church both in its worship and in its company. The life of the Church is the embrace of a spiritual journey and a shared destiny. This is the Christian adventure upon which we are all embarked, and which remains for the making of our lives. The tone of this morning’s Gospel is breathless and exciting and involves two encounters between John the Baptist and Jesus Christ. The pace of the narrative continually quickens itself, and makes the action appear something like a dance, in which the persons involved appear and disappear and then reappear, and in which they meet and then leave one another. But the mood of the piece is excited and joyous. The encounter with John the Baptist and Jesus is significant because it provides a marker for the end of one whole era and the beginning of another. John is the last of the Old Testament prophets. It is as though he is saying. ‘Prophecy has now completed its task'. 'The true and vital end of our prophecy is now with us. The Messiah, this Jesus, is the completion of our prophetic utterance’. Now things can move  forward in a new way.

 

The Christian Faith, unlike the old faith, is now one lived in mutual and shared witness. The faith of Christ is now lived in the here and the now of our shared existence. It is to be conveyed to others and to the world by the company we have always called ‘the faithful’. It is a sharing and a communication of that same Good News which gladdened the heart of John and his followers and which now gladdens us. They follow Jesus from a little distance and then ask him where he is staying? He answers them by not answering them. He doesn’t in fact tell them where he will stay, but instead invites them to “come and see”. This word ‘stay’ is used in its most profound context, as meaning not only staying for a while in a house, but ’staying’ as pertaining to the whole of one’s existence. The place where I remain, the place where my roots lie, the place of stillness and strength. It is  in this vein that the poet TS Eliot’s prayer goes like this – “Teach us to love one another and to sit still”. Again, the word ‘sit’ like the word ‘say’ has a much deeper meaning. In the same way my father, a Cornishman, would often remark that if a picture or something was not hung quite right it was ‘out of truth’.

 

O strength and stay upholding all creation,

who ever dost thyself unmoved abide,

yet day by day the light in due gradation

from hour to hour through all its changes guide;

 

Grant to life's day a calm unclouded ending,

an eve untouched by shadows of decay,

the brightness of a holy death-bed blending

with dawning glories of the eternal day.

 

Hear us, O Father, gracious and forgiving,

through Jesus Christ thy co-eternal Word,

who with the Holy Ghost by all things living

now and to endless ages art adored.

 

“Where are you staying, my Lord?” What is your life like?”  For John, the writer of this Gospel, the response “Come and See” is the same one which the Church of the first century offered to those who would come to Christian Faith. It is not the one which finds itself lost in explanation and fine religious detail. It is not one which is lost in exclamation and misplaced ecstasy. No, it is the one offering the invitation to find Christ in the Church, the Body of Christ, and to embark upon the Christian faith in a spirit of adventure and anticipation. “Come and see” - find yourself in one another; find what in your heart of hearts you are looking for; find something in the deeper channels of your knowing mind. I still find myself saying “come and see” to the many who wonder at this Church and make their own faint enquiries. I know I can’t describe the real Holy Cross Church as well as I can describe its history and architecture. But the invitation to “come and see” is as full of promise today here in this place as it was all those hundreds of years ago when Jesus beckoned his enquirers.

 

Some years ago now, this Church saw in mid-January the funeral rites of two very different characters, Elsie and John. Elsie, was a staunch believer in the Church and John, a complex character but no less staunch and no less colourful. The one service for Elsie, a Catholic Requiem Mass with all the music and liturgical grandeur we could muster, and then John’s very simple service. Elsie’s service with its traditional style and mellifluous music, and John’s Quaker hymn ‘Tis a Gift to be Simple’ and going out to Gene Kelly and ‘I’m Singin’ in the Rain’. Two quite different persons, but both loving the Church, and both giving and receiving from the Church’s  treasure house, which is the faithful witnesses and the one commitment that made them what they were. Of the sense of belonging to a community of incomplete persons. Both Elsie and John had this in common : they had both, in their own unique ways, come to God and to what they both saw in the Church, as incarnate glory, as shared witness, as Christian companionship along the way, as walking along the road to their own freedom and in the company of the church as a cloud of witnesses – call it what you will. But on this day theirs had been the response to the reply that Jesus makes to us now “Come and See”. “Come and See” and what you will see and what you will know will be for your life’s sustenance and its true meaning and worth.

 

The love of God remains one which never coerces, it invites and beckons us to see what is already there and to reveal it to us as we are given the eyes to see.

 

TS Eliot from his poem ‘Ash Wednesday’ – “Teach us to love one another and to sit (remain) still”.

 

 



Sermon for the Feast of the Epiphany 2020

5th Jan 2020


Sermon for the Feast of the Epiphany 2013 (Year C)

 

 

Depiction of the Magi from The Church of St Apollinare Nuovo, Ravenna, 550 AD.

 

We returned to our places, these kingdoms,

But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,

With an alien people clutching their gods.

 

TS Eliot The Journey of the Magi.

 

 Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany, and this word is taken from the Greek word epiphanos, and it has two meanings. The first of these speaks of ‘a sign’. The sign is something shown, a manifestation of something new and startling. It is revealed in the birth of the Messiah, which summons our three wise men to find the sign which had been promised by Isaiah and announced by the angel Gabriel; of the appearance of the longed-for Messiah as a baby, “wrapped in swaddling bands and lying in a manger”:

 

 The heavenly babe you there shall find

To human view displayed,

All meanly wrapped in swaddling bands

and in a manger laid.

 

The appearance of the infant Christ provides a second epiphany. This is the epiphany of conversion as a sudden and new perception of realities. It is what Eliot means when he tells us that the wise men returned to their places "no longer at ease in the old dispensation".  It tells us of the renewing effect that the showing of the sign has upon those who witness it.

 

Fear not to enter his courts in the slenderness

of the poor wealth thou wouldst reckon as thine

Truth in its beauty and love in its tenderness

these are the offerings to lay on his shrine.

 

Epiphany calls us to true and undiluted worship of our Saviour.  The Magi travelled from afar in search of the truth. When they found that truth in Jesus, they were bowled over by it.  Their lives were changed.  A very early Christian wall painting shows the three Magi walking towards Christ and His Mother as though they are in fact dancing in perfect synchronisation.  The clue to its understanding is the fact that it is painted on the walls of a catacomb, the place where early Christians buried their dead.  In this setting, we are walking not towards Bethlehem but rather towards Jesus the Lord who will come one day to judge both the living and the dead. If that is so, then you and I must walk both with eagerness and with integrity.  You and I must offer lives that are shaped by our quest, by the grace of the Lord Jesus whom we serve and to whom we come. And we must respect what we believe to be our Christian vocation and not betray its importance. Our  lives must find their expression rather as a dance in synchronisation and in step with the One who keeps time...

 

Just as the magi travelled from afar to see the Sign, we too follow that same journey in our own Christian lives. It is the journey we make in our hearts to the place where we see and we know Jesus and where we bear witness. We may, out of the joy and the peace of his appearing, offer him the best gift we have to give, the gift of ourselves and of our own being and of the deepening of our witness.  To speak like this is to speak of the Feast of the Epiphany not only as a Feast of Signs but as a time and a place in which the divine presence is revealed to us as something vitally necessary for us.

 

The Story of the Three Wise Men is not just one which has been ‘tagged’ onto the Nativity for extra effect. It is has a crucial significance in the message of the coming of the Son of God. We continue to remember that the divine name given to Jesus is ‘God with Us’. His coming to birth has caused a rupture in Eliot's ‘old dispensation’. It has challenged the fixed separation of heaven and earth; and of the existence of God and his relation to us as remote. God has in Jesus come to us in flesh and blood, has come to us as a pauper child, has come through his life on earth to raise us all into the likeness of God Himself. We are to respond as did the wise men:

 

 

O Worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness;

Bow down before him, his glory proclaim;

With gold of obedience and incense of lowliness

Kneel and adore him; the Lord is his Name!"

 

J S B Monsell (1811-1875).

 



Sermon for Christmas Midnight Mass

24th Dec 2019



Midnight Mass Sermon 2019

 

This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.

 

At this Midnight hour, we join churches from across the world to make our own journey  ‘to see what things have come to pass’. Of course we know what to expect, but even so, the coming of the Christ Child catches our imagination. For in the simple story of the journey of Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem the Church declares that this is how God wants it to be – that the gift to the world of Jesus is being given in this very particular way.  Mary and Joseph are a poor couple making a mundane journey for a mundane reason – to register their names or tax purposes! They are an unlikely couple slightly lost and unprepared for the birth of their child. But by these unlikely means God’s glory is being revealed.

 

For this is no ordinary couple and these are no ordinary circumstances. Mary and Joseph have both received their calling from God. They have both said ‘Yes’ to God. In turn, the birth of their child will remain for ever the precise moment of divine disclosure. God means to show himself to the world through them and through their willing agreement. God is to become human in their little baby, Jesus. How awesome is that! This grand purpose is summed up in the carol which confidently declares that the baby Jesus “…came down to earth from heaven, who is God and Lord of all”. The dramatic nature of this declaration is contrasted with the very basic human circumstances into which the Saviour is born and the stable with the hot, sweet, grassy, breath of the cattle and the sheep, the smell of dung and animal urine and the drafts of cold air coming in through the rafters. God meant it to be this way. All that God does is intentional. As one old hymn puts it, God has ‘…stooped down to Man’s estate.’ He has become one with us and like us.

 

Yesterday afternoon I received a surprise Christmas call from my Cornish cousin. I spoke to her of our local school visits to the crib scene here at Holy Cross and of how, to gain the children’s concentration, I referred to the stable as both very warm and also very smelly. The children observed that even though smelly the stable was a warm and good place and they wouldn’t mind sleeping there, though preferably alongside the sheep rather than the oxe. This suddenly brought on a childhood memory of my cousin’s in which she remembered her aunt Mary, a farmer’s wife, gift her each Christmas an old sealed container containing a neat and highly noxious cow pat to be given promptly to her mother to feed her rose bushes. She said to me “The smell still lingers!”

 

“He came down to earth from heaven, who is God and Lord of all… “

 

In experiencing the Christmas nativity we come to know God in three ways:

 

The first way lies in the God who loves the world he made. He comes to earth as one who loves all of it! For us, loving the Creator God and loving our planet earth are two interrelated and inseparable responses…It is right that there has been an ever increasing emphasis upon our responsibility for the planet, which must present itself more consciously and determinedly in our daily lives. This way is the one which engages us spiritually as it brings us closer to the Creator.

 

The second way lies in the God whose love is always a giving and a sharing love. It is as givers and sharers that we are able to find life and give life. The Birth of Jesus is God’s gift to us in this child is also God’s message to the planet. The love for the planet is but an expression of the love which God calls us to have for one another this Christmas. The two are interrelated and co-dependent. The stable at Bethlehem is become the means through which the world is to be reconciled to itself. Christmas invites countless expressions of both routine and exceptional kindness and each year the feast prompts many to show it! The spontaneous dedication of Christmas volunteers is a part of this stream, expressing the kind of practical love which makes such a difference to our society.

 

The third way lies in the God who trusts in human agency and who calls us to play our own part in the divine plan. Like Mary and Joseph we are reminded of God’s calling. In this church last October,  some three and a half thousand people came to see Luke Jeram’s giant moon installation and it was a time of great joy and wonder as we were able to offer a welcome and inclusion to many people from the Moslem community who would otherwise have placed themselves firmly outside our orbit. In the past few days, builders have been busy transforming our downstairs crypt in the hope that in the coming year we may offer more space and welcome in the service of our local community. We are as a community church more conscious than ever of our calling to make this church a place where daily acts of kindness and hospitality bind us ever more closely to those we are called to serve.

 

The Christian message is the one which would have us love our world as God loves it, to love God in one another and to realise our fullest humanity in the God who calls. We are come to behold the things which have come to pass – to delight and rejoice in them and to act upon them. May God grant us all peace in your inmost hearts this Christmas, and may he bless us as we hold in our arms this child Jesus ‘the hopes and fears of all our years”, now and in the time to come…

 

Only one piece of final Christmas advice - be careful before you open the oddly scented Christmas parcel from the Cornish Auntie!

 

 

 

 

 



Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent 2019

15th Dec 2019


Sermon for The Third Sunday in Advent (Year A)

 

Matthew 11.2-11

 

We are witnesses in St Matthew’s Gospel this morning to the dialogue, conducted through intermediaries, that takes place between John the Baptist, already imprisoned, and Jesus, who receives messages from beyond the prison gates. John the Baptist’s message is very much an imprisoned message. It is constrained and tense.  John is in a place of great suffering and personal dereliction.  But he is clear headed and clear minded. His message to Jesus is a blunt question “Are you the Messiah, the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?” If he were from a particular part of this country he might be a typical blunt Yorkshireman. But he is also a divine messenger. The words of Orlando Gibbons’ musical work entitled ‘This is the Record of John’ has John always answering in the negative concerning his relation to Christ. His voice is raised far above his actual humanity and intensifies its range:

 

This is the record of John, when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, Who art thou? And he confessed and denied not, and said plainly, I am not the Christ. And they asked him, What art thou then? (Art thou Elias? repeated x1) And he said, I am not. (Art thou the prophet? Repeated x2) And he answered, No. Then said they unto him, What art thou? that we may give an answer unto them that sent us. What sayest thou of thyself? And he said, I am the voice of him that crieth in the wilderness, (Make straight the way of the Lord repeated x2).

 

Jesus makes comment about John to the people around him, for they had considered John to be a holy man and had gone out into the desert to seek him out: “…and what were you going out in the desert to see?”  “…a reed shaken in the wind” or “someone dressed in soft robes?”. John is neither of these. He is a prophet and as Jesus tells us ‘more than a prophet’. According to Jesus, John is the first of any man yet born to women and yet he is also the less than the least in the Kingdom of heaven. John the Baptist models the figure who acts in a spirit of self-sacrifice for the good of the greater whole. For John, Jesus must ‘increase’ while he must ‘decrease’. The forms a perpetual theme when we consider John's place in the New Testament.

 

The person of Jesus is likewise not to be confused with any projection meeted to him by the opinions of the crowd. Jesus is the Messiah not in human status but in the realisation of the coming of God’s Kingdom, for Jesus answers John indirectly ‘…the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed the deaf hear, the dead are raised and the poor have good news brought to them’. The Messiahship of Christ is the one which is embedded in the new life which Jesus himself brings about. For the Church there is great joy in this. This is why this day is gaudete, or ‘Rejoicing Sunday’, when we witness the Saviour who has now ebcome for John (and us) recognisable and realisable.

 

From what cause do we as Christians rejoice? John is the forerunner, the one who ‘prepares the Way’. We rejoice because we are inheritors of the Christian tradition in all its fullness here at Holy Cross Church. We trace the Christian tradition back to the apostles, the ones whom Jesus called. We proclaim the existence of The One, Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church as utterly defining for our existence as Christians. The Church’s essential character is bound up in its tradition, which is a living one, in which love is its essential meaning and new life its outcome.  We are working out what kind of new life may issue out of a local church like ours, which, as ‘a church turned inside out’ and toward the community we serve, may best mirror the courageous hopes of the Baptist, who has prophesied a humanity renewed in the likeness of Christ. And in that renewal is promised the deepening and the enlargement of all our relationships as we work and pray together for the Kingdom of God made recognisable and realisable in this place.

 

John the Baptist gifts us the Christian perspective. He is the one who proclaims the coming of the Messiah not as something vague and for the future but something which is recognisable and realisable in the here and now. He proclaims a departure from the old norm. It is a life to be lived in all its various shades and shadows, lights and glories as a dedicated life. This is gaudete; this is Christian joy. God’s loving presence promises the same grace now as when it was first received by John in prison. Jesus had, after all, given answer to all of John’s hopes in the affirmative. The prophecy had now been fulfilled. And it is in joy that our hearts echo the words of the carol

 

 

Joy to the world, the Lord is come!

Let earth receive her King!

Let every heart prepare him room

And heaven and nature sing.

 

And heaven and nature sing.



 

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