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Sermon for the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

23rd Aug 2020


Sermon for The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity

 

If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let them renounce themselves, and take up their cross and follow me. For anyone who wants to save their life will lose it. Matthew 16.25.

 

This time last year I was staying in the convent of the Consolata Missionary Community  in central Italy. During this stay it seemed as though the normal course of life was being lived in reverse. I mean this in relation to the existence overwhelming silence. In the convent, a God-filled silence seemed to pervade everything. The life of the convent worked its way around the existence of this silence as it offered a real means of communication in a generous space. The second aspect of my convent experience lay in the company I was keeping. The sisters are brave souls, missionary sisters, who do not stay in their Mother House for long, but are sent, directed to mission fields across the globe, from places as far apart as Liberia and Mongolia, London and The United States. They are multi-lingual and outward looking. But importantly these are sisters who have taken vows of stability of life. And the established silence of this community gives one the impression of life lived intensely and yet in peace and in freedom. It may often seem that  women and men who live like this have ‘turned their backs’ on life or that such a life is a kind of waste. Our readings this morning remind us that The Christian Call is one which acknowledged a paradox, a contradiction which nonetheless proves true: ‘…anyone who wants to save their life will lose it’. The sisters have made this visible and knowable to us. They make Christian Faith real and apparent. 

 

The rejection of this kind of life as an absurdity fails to acknowledge the necessary living out of the Christian paradox.  Like Peter in this morning’s Gospel, in our ignorance and fear, we erect defensive barriers and create our own distinctions. We accept and reject certain realities so that our worlds may be made in our own image and likeness and not in God’s. This is only human but can become self-justifying. When Jesus foretells his destiny as one involving death and resurrection, Peter remonstrates. He can’t cope with this. He responds in the negative: “This must not happen to you!” And we can sympathise with him.  We know that Peter was fearfully protective of his teacher. But it was a protectiveness which was misguided because possessive.  Jesus’ astonishing reply to Peter is “Get behind me, Satan!”. “Your way is not God’s, but Man’s”. Jesus admonishes Peter as he challenges the idea of the Christian way as predictable and safe. Jesus has come for the opening of human hearts and minds and for the realisation for the Call to  live our lives more truthfully. He has come to bring a message which is demanding. He has come to challenge each one of us in the deepest parts of our being. To call us into question. This involves St John the Baptist’s call for real repentance. It is also to say that we may find God both in the stability of a quietened mind and as much in the call to lose ourselves in order to find ourselves. To let go rather than to possess. This is what makes the Call of Christ so searching. The Spanish mystics lived in the late sixteenth century and spearheaded the Catholic resurgence after the challenges of the Reformation. Their emphasis lay most definitely in the direction of this same letting go:

 

This is the advice from one such Spanish Mystic, St John of the Cross (1542-1591):

 

To reach satisfaction in all

desire satisfaction in nothing.

To come to possess all

desire the possession of nothing.

To arrive at being all

desire to be nothing.

To come to the knowledge of all

desire the knowledge of nothing.

 

To come to enjoy what you have not

you must go by a way in which you enjoy not.

To come to the knowledge you have not

you must go by a way in which you know not.

To come to the possession you have not

you must go by a way in which you possess not.

To come to be what you are not

you must go by a way in which you are not.

 

 

Our Church of the Holy Cross in King’s Cross stands as a witness to the place and the time and the society in which we live. It has always taken seriously the care and respect for those persons, from whatever type or background who live in this small parish and who experience the full ‘King’s Cross ‘Effect’ as a place of brief or not so brief transit. But this Church also exists as a spiritual oasis, a centre for Christian teaching, a place of prayer and a witness to Christ within the deep places of the human soul and psyche. It stands for an acceptance of the particulars of contemporary life with the embrace of what one theologian called a` ‘passionate and active inwardness’. It is the living out of the divine paradox and it stands alongside a secularised society as more counter-cultural than ever. 

 

As Christians it becomes the duty to find the courage and the healing words and works that proclaim the Christian message. This is the way of life which is founded on the life and death and resurrection of Jesus. It is a Church turned inside out so that what is met and beheld in this place becomes the means by which this parish, and those we meet may truly receive the divine Consolata, the message of hope for our distracted existence. This to exist within what someone has called ‘the groove of hope’. It is to embrace the strange paradox in and through which the truth of our human being is being revealed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Sermon for the Ninth Sunday after Trinity

9th Aug 2020


Sermon for Trinity 9 Year A


“Take Heart, It is I; do not be afraid”  Matthew 14.27

 

To remain faithful and steadfast in the midst of all that life can throw at us, requires enormous amounts staying power. The story in the Gospel in which Jesus, walking upon the waters of the Sea of Galilee encourages Peter to do the same is a story about that same keeping of faith, with faith’s working partner, trust. The story depicts Jesus having prayed alone on the mountain, the disciples in the boat on the Sea of Galilee and the crowd on the shore. Each, from their own perspective, like us, are challenged and tested to keep the faith. And this is not what we call ‘blind faith’ or an act of our own will power but ‘faith in God’ involving self-surrender. The same God who brought this world into being is the God who works with the faith we have to offer and at the same time grounds it and makes it more real. And so the question of the day by day ‘keeping of faith’ is central to our discipleship as Christians. Ours in the ‘faith in…’   …faith in God through Jesus Christ. As the chorus of a rousing old hymn “Will Your Anchor Hold?” puts it:

 

We have an anchor that keeps the soul

Steadfast and sure while the billows roll,

Fastened to the Rock which cannot move,

Grounded firm and deep in the Saviour’s love.

 

 

Life must test us. It can do no other. Life gives none of us a holiday from its trials. And sometimes life will test us to the very limit of our own felt capacity to meet that test. And I don’t know a reason why should we be exempted from that testing? One of the translations of the Lord’s prayer substitutes ‘lead us not into temptation’ with ‘…and do not bring us to the time of trial’. No one would be foolish enough to willingly invite the time of great trial, but to refuse or  ignore or circumvent the reality of human trial and suffering would be  a profound denial.

 

The keeping of strong faith has been revealed this week in Beirut, where the populace, devastated by loss and destruction and rightly angered by corruption in their society have nerved themselves to support the thousands of homeless, to provide food for the hungry and, by these acts, have offered encouragement and hope for the greater number of citizens. To rebuild, to angrily challenge the dead hand of the state whilst re-establishing bonds of peace and trust. This is the keeping of faith in our basic humanity, which, though often blown off course by the machinations of the few, has declared itself to be strong, united and hopeful. The faith dynamic is the one in which Jesus, the love of God in human form, comes toward us as love and says “Take heart; it is I, do not be afraid”.

 

From the Christian point of view our own lives are, each and every one of them, journeys of faith. Faith in God, and, by natural extension, journeys of faith in one another. This morning we will be reading the marriage banns for Tor Garnett and Tom Parker. Out of an old and very traditional ecclesiastical custom comes the Church and congregation standing alongside the couple and cheering them on. That special group of couples who marry at Holy Cross Church will want to hear their banns read, and have considered these three Sundays very special acts of dedication. For they declare before God and the gathered church a great desire and intention. That the love which has been found in these two persons now becomes the key commitment for a startlingly real journey of faith and hope and trust. In this sense this morning’s gospel teaching on the need for faith is so apt. We know, all of us, whether married, single, in partnerships or otherwise, that we need great resources of real love that is buttressed by equal resources of faith and trust and hope. We must all know that in the words of the song from Queen, life is ‘no bed of roses’.

 

But it's been no bed of roses

No pleasure cruise

I consider it a challenge before the whole human race...

 

Our Gospel reminds us that we will of course rely upon our own strength and the strength of our primary relationships to see us through. But for the Christian another vital dimension is added, and that is faith in God, who in Christ has not only shown us the way, but also feeds in our inward selves as we continue the journey. Jesus tells Peter and us as he walks toward us “Take heart, do not be afraid, it is I”. God is the One who beckons. He the one who shapes our truer destiny.

The shortest word that Jesus speaks is in fact a letter, and the letter is “I”. Whenever Jesus speaks in the first person singular his hearers, most of them versed in the Jewish religion, would have immediately know what was being said. For in Jewish tradition the personal “I” when spoken by the prophet means God; Jesus then proclaims that he is Son of God, and the disciples recognise this and accept it. They accept that individual personal strength will never be completely adequate to the vocation for living and loving unless their own “I” has its spiritual root and grounding in Jesus. The Church must continually remind us that our lives and loves owe all their meaning and purpose to the God who made us and who keeps us. This is primary. We cannot with any possibility of true surety, run our lives as our own directors.

 

And so now on this day, we pray for the people of Beirut in their hour of need, we pray for Tor and Tom as they embark upon their journey of faith and hope and love and trust and we pray for us all, and for the increase and the deepening of our faith. That Christ will meet us as and where we are, to provide us with that deep trust and assurance which is faith’s natural outcome.  As Jesus tells us this morning,  “Take heart, It is I!”

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 



Sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Trinity

2nd Aug 2020


Sermon for Trinity 8 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’s he is moved to teach them (Mark 6:34). Both aspects are important and interrelated. The Lord loves us and wants to heal us and to realise his loving presence in us. This he does supremely in the Eucharist. He feeds and teaches us at the altar of Christ’s love. We cannot grow spiritually unless we are being taught - through the Word of God and through the teaching of the Church. In the Eucharist the Lord also feeds us with his own body and blood, healing us and giving us new strength. It’s marvellous that this morning this text comes to us as we come to receive the sacrament of the eucharist for the first time in months.

 

The monastery and church at Tabgha on the shores of Lake Galilee, the site of the Feeding of the multitude,  was destroyed in the 7th century, probably during the Arab conquest of the country, and then buried beneath a thick layer of silt and stones. In the 1980s, after excavation, the church was restored, incorporating portions of the original mosaics. A woman pilgrim named Egeria in the year 380 wrote about the Tabgha Chapel and of the wonder that its site on the banks of the river Galilee manifested in the pilgrims of her day…

 

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.

 

From the very beginning of the Church’s history even before Egeria, in fact from the first century onwards, the early church saw itself as a Eucharistic community – that is to say a community which was united with Christ in the Eucharistic meal. To be a eucharistic community was to draw sustenance from the one source, Jesus Christ, and to receive the bread and wine which was his body and blood. This powerful identification tells us that the church was distinctive and like no other community of faith. It was passionate for Christ, obedient to his word and faithful in to the Christian calling.

 

St Paul,  in prison and at the point martyrdom, delivers up a poignant and powerful cry for the God who remains present to us and for us at all times and in all places

 

 

If we have died with him, we will also live with him;

if we endure, we will also reign with him;

if we deny him, he also will deny us;

if we are faithless, he remains faithful—

for he cannot deny himself.

 

(2 Timothy 2.8-13). 

 

 

Written only decades after the death of Christ, we are given some sense of the intensity in which the faith of Christ was upheld from earliest times. Another passage from the earliest Christian work The Didache offers a Eucharistic prayer which is vivid and bristling with confidence:

 

As grain that was scattered on the hillside was gathered together and made into one loaf, so too, we, your people, scattered throughout the world, are gathered together around your table and become one. As grapes grown in the field are gathered together and pressed into wine, so too are we drawn together and pressed by our times to share a common lot and are transformed into your life-blood for all. So let us prepare to eat and drink as Jesus taught us: inviting the stranger to our table and welcoming the poor. May their absence serve to remind us of the divisions this sacrament seeks to heal, and may their presence help transform us in the body of Christ we share. Amen  

 

The Didache    90 AD

 

I once knew a woman who had lost her son. He had committed suicide. She was beside herself with grief. She herself was a devout churchwoman and made her grief 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 could not be the case. People kept on asking her about how she felt. In her grief there was to be ready-made set of consolations. But at a crucial point, early on in her grieving, her Vicar, whom she had known for many years, arrived at her home one day while she was out shopping. He left on her doorstep a beef casserole which he had taken hours to make, and with it a small message.

 

That woman recalled to her 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. Its kindliness stood for that sharing of loves, that staple diet, informed by the Word of God and of his teaching, which blesses and gives hope. It is the grace for loving, which is the gift of God to the one who, within the Eucharistic community, has truly become what they have received in Christ…. A small act of human kindness may contain within it the seeds of great healing for others and a greater good for our world. We may not know, we cannot tell what graces are given as our bread is cast among the waters shared among and within our common lot. The Eucharist in action. God in Christ nourishes us in all goodness...

 

 

 

 

 



Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Trinity

26th Jul 2020


Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Trinity Year A 2020

 

And God, who searches the heart, knows what is the mind of the Spirit”. Romans 8.28

 

The Coronavirus has put paid to many events which were once confidently and obliviously planned, the most obvious being the postponement of the Olympic Games in Tokyo. In my home town of Plymouth the postponement of many events planned to commemorate the 400th anniversary sailing of the The Mayflower in 1620 to the so-called ‘New World’ is a significant one. The celebration was to have paid homage to the breathtaking courage of the one hundred and thirty odd persons, among them the so-called ‘Pilgrim Fathers’. They set sail to a place as then barely known and in a small ship which in the face of the vast and unpredictable Atlantic Ocean was a floating death trap. But they did arrive at their destination in what is now Plymouth Massachussets and Plymothians were to gather at the Mayflower Steps to remember this epic voyage. Every country has a ‘golden age’ and in Plymouth both the age of Sir Francis Drake in Elizabeth I’s reign and the Pilgrim Fathers in the reign of her successor James I stand proud. It was an age of learning and of daring.

 

The epic voyage of the Mayflower was made possible by The English Reformation in England during Elizabeth’s reign and the proliferation of differing Christian types of witness which ensued. Above all the arrival of the Bible translated into English and the advent of the Book of Common Prayer were signs of this opening up. The Pilgrim Fathers and their brand of isolationist Calvinist Christianity lay in contrast to the state of things in England in which the Prayer Book, allowed the common man, woman and child for the first time to enjoy a beautifully written though standardised guide to daily and Sunday worship. At the heart of this Book of Common Prayer lay strong guidance both for corporate prayer with its beautiful and poetic verbal expression, for the first time in the English language! One of these beauties lies in the prayer which we say each Sunday, simply called ‘The Collect’, which as the name suggests, collects up the thought for that particular Sunday. The collects are prayers which contain highly condensed material, expressed  very ably and concisely and which manage to be both spiritually elevated and yet also completely common sensible.

 

This morning’s collect for the 7th Sunday after Trinity asks God to ‘graft into our hearts the love of God’s Name’, to increase in us true religion’ and finally to ‘nourish us with all goodness’ and then the verbal sealant ‘to keep us in the same. The collects manage to both raise us and bring us down to earth. They are the product of a new religious order which takes our human nature and the lives we live very seriously and they address us very directly and honestly. They are a product of great learning and insight but also great spirituality. They echo the words of Paul that the same God, “who searches the human heart, knows what is the mind of the spirit”.

 

Firstly ‘to graft into our hearts the love of God’s name’. When I was a young child both my Church of England primary school at St Peter’s in Plymouth seemed always to be a place of story-telling, both the classic children’s stories from Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm as well of course countless stories from the Bible. All this allowed we children to immerse ourselves imaginatively in stories which though colourful (and many improbable) contained strong, guiding, moral messages which were to become a natural part of our thinking and acting lives later on. In our church it seemed to me that the Word of God was so elevated and yet spoke to what St Paul continually referred to as that deeper place, deeper than thought, the heart. And so ‘learning by heart’ and taking on human knowledge ‘by heart’ and receiving that word as a continual practice was, happily for me, a staple of Christian worship at the local church level, and it has never ceased to offer spiritual nourishment at times of great challenge.

 

Secondly, ‘Increase in us true religion’. The word ‘religion’ has become in our own time a contentious one. Larger numbers of people describe themselves as ‘spiritual’ rather than ‘religious’ This may either be that religion is for them a word which denotes a kind of subservience, or a commitment which takes them into the realm of beliefs which they cannot in good conscience truly espouse. Then there is the fact that world religions, especially Christianity and Islam, have a poor track record in the keeping of the peace. When this collect was written in the mid 1550s ‘true religion’ was a new concept, but it dared to express the relationship between real religion and its outcome in the life of the individuals and communities which were its human representatives. Religion should be seen and known to be humanly true not only in its doctrines but also in the lives of those for whom it was ‘Christ personified’.

 

Which brings us to the third part of our collect prayer, that we ask God ‘to nourish us in all goodness’. It is interesting that when this prayer was written, the idea of human goodness and of good acts incorporated into the worship of the church was never expressed so directly. The former Latin use could not convey the immediacy which Cranmer intended. Cranmer is not as the former priests exhorting the people to a more ardent piety but a leader of a very contemporary church ‘earthing’ the Christian Gospel and instructing the people in the ways of simple human goodness and of acts of goodness. And yet the previous instruction to ‘true religion’ assumes a root source which emerges out of a life of prayer and of worship and of passionate belief, without which Christianity remains without source and direction.

 

As we Christian pilgrims journey through this exceptionally difficult and challenging period in the life of our world, let us, as God’s pilgrim people, draw inspiration from our collect and its spiritual genius. Let us now, like the Pilgrim Fathers then, put out to sea, the sea of faith and, make our own journey as the Elizabethan would say, ‘with good courage’ :

 

 

Graft in our hearts of the love of thy name, O God, increase in us true religion nourish us with all goodness, and keep us in the same.  Amen.

 

 

 

 



Sermon for the Sixth Sunday after Trinity

19th Jul 2020


The Sixth Sunday of Trinity Year A

 

Then Jacob woke from his sleep and said, “Surely the Lord is in this place—and I did not know it!”  Genesis 28.17

 

The Christian always expresses a delight and a respect for material things and for our common humanity. At the same time all our readings this morning imply that God’s attentive love and his guiding Holy Spirit are always with us. Material things are set out in scripture to convey spiritual realities. In today’s Old Testament Reading the account of Jacob’s dream of a ladder ascending into heaven is deeply visionary. It stands as a testimony both to Jacob’s faith and the strong sense he has of God’s presence and purpose. This prompts him to bless the ground upon which he receives God’s vision “How awesome is this place! He says “This is none other than the house of God, this this is the gate of heaven”. These words are inscribed upon a modern east end church, St Paul’s Bow Common which has defied the outcries against 60s architecture and won a major prize recently. Its Vicar, Duncan Ross, alluded to the great promise of joy that the right use of architectural space and the play of light and darkness makes upon the individual. Jacob would have been proud!

 

God is always and everywhere present and always unchanging. He is not just a PART of the natural order, he IS the natural order. And when we admit this we then look to place ourselves like Jacob in right relationship to our own human being. “In every human heart there is a God-shaped space’ said Cardinal Hume. We begin to ask ourselves where our true peace is to be found. And our response is to recognise it within our own selves.

 

In his Letter to the Romans, St Paul describes the whole of creation and our common humanity as ‘groaning inwardly as we wait for our bodies to be set free’. And in the Gospel reading of the growth of the wheat and the tares Jesus develops around the relationship of God and the believer the  image of the sower who plants the seed on ground full of weeds and on good grain. This is a proper image for the spiritual life, in which, as if we did not need reminding, life finds us struggling against the odds as the wheat grows with the choking weeds or tares. This current period of the gradual end to lockdown is very critical because we cannot be sure that we are doing this too quickly. At the same time we have this year experienced two spring times. Though we are now beginning Summer, spring is in the air as the curious return to the new normal sees only a gradual reopening rather than a full one. In the continuing uncertainty, The Church needs to enable people to tell their coronavirus stories. It needs now to offer the right healing resources for those for whom the experience of the past few months has taken a great toll. Our church is ready to offer God’s deep and strong peace and there will be opportunities in the coming weeks, once we are retuned to Holy Cross Church building in two weeks’ time, to put this into real practice.

 

For some time now at Argyle Primary School we have been teaching the final year pupils simple meditation skills. We decided  to support our children at this crucial part of their schooling and when they are readying themselves to go to what so many of us call ‘big school’. We have together begun to wonder where we might find stillness and calmness when life around us becomes changing and demanding. It has been possible to draw upon the simple skill and technique of meditation to allow ourselves that proper space and critical distance from our demanding lives. It involves the practice and purposefulness of stillness and of silence. At first it seems that the idea to do this might be beyond the means of children of ten and eleven years of age. It is equally a challenge for adults. We can be so distracted! In the old days teachers were always barking at children to keep silent and even rewarding silent children as they were “seen but not heard….” But meditation is deep peace. It introduces a creative rather than an imposed silence.

 

In the action of meditation we are giving God our time when he gives us all his time. ST Paul reminds us that when we cry ‘Abba, Father!’ we express that calm intimacy which is God’s gift to us who seek. That act of what some have called ‘centring down’ allows us a means of embracing more deeply, even with the occasional distraction, the peace that lies both within and beyond us, and to inhabit that peace of God ‘which passes all understanding’  This is an action which allows us to become calm and responsive rather than defensive and reactive.

 

We may say that to bear within us the seed of the Word of God is as ‘the grain  become the full wheat’. It’s to experience and then to communicate from our own inner being wells of deep creative peace. This is the peace that sets our lives, our world and ‘all the changing scenes of life’ into their true perspective. This is the peace which is transformative for our life together…As Jacob reminds us in his place of joy:

 

“How awesome is this place. This is none other than the house of God, this is the gate of heaven”. Here are the words of an ancient Celtic prayer for personal peace, so much needed in these challenging times:

 

 

 

 

Deep peace of the running wave to you

Deep peace of the flowing air to you

Deep peace of the quiet earth to you

Deep peace of the shining stars to you

Deep peace of the gentle night to you

Moon and stars pour their healing light on you

Deep peace of Christ, of Christ be with you.

The light of the world to you

Deep peace of Christ to you…

 

 



 

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