Come and See
15th Jan 2012
“Come and see”. John 1.48
Nathaniel said “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.”
It is meaningful for us to compare the infant Samuel in the Old Testament and Nathaniel in the New. The account of Samuel and Eli’s sleep in the sanctuary of the temple alongside the ark of the covenant and with the faint light waiting to be extinguished is very lovely. They old man and the boy share a time of sleep in the place of the divine presence, in which the child hears the voice of God - and yet thinks it’s the old man calling. Eli knows after a while that it is no longer right to tell the Samuel to ‘go back to sleep’ but to instruct him to respond: ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening’. The Nathaniel account is a distinct contrast. It takes place in the great outdoors and in day time. But the issue remains the same, and it is one of the divine call and of human receptivity. Jesus has been found by Philip who now claims that he has met the Messiah, the promised one, and he names him as the son of the carpenter Joseph from Nazareth. “Can anything good come from Nazareth?” Nathaniel says offhandedly, to which Philip then replies ‘Come and see’. The call of God is one which tests our human perception. In the case of Samuel and Nathaniel comes the prompt not to see the presence of God as something incidental and distant, but one which may come calling…
Our worship of God involves a gentle challenge to our receptive capacity. Our lives and their meaning and destiny are bound to the life of the God we worship. The two are inseparable. We recognise our need of God, not from the point of view of a defensive and distracted mentality, but in the one whom we know has loved us beyond our telling. Philip’s reply ‘come and see’ is an invitation to come to God in whom to know is to truly be. To inhabit God is to inhabit the true reality. “Come…..and see…” Philip says, “Come, and receive...”
But receptivity doesn’t always come to us naturally. Henri Nouwen knows this when he says,
Long before any human being saw us, we are seen by God's loving eyes. Long before anyone heard us cry or laugh, we are heard by our God who is all ears for us. Long before any person spoke to us in this world, we are spoken to by the voice of eternal love. Claiming and reclaiming our chosenness is the great spiritual battle of our lives, for in a competitive, power-hungry and manipulative world, it is all too easy to forget that God has always known us, and God has chosen us – even when we slide into self-doubt and self-rejection. Knowing that we have been and are known by God, and that we have been chosen, is the first thing we need to claim as we behold what we are and become what we receive in Him.
We are in fact and in deed, “blessed.” The word “blessing” comes from the Latin word, benedicere, which literally means to speak well of someone, to say good things about someone. We all have a deep need for affirmation, to know that we are valued not just because of something we did or because we have a particular talent, but simply because we simply are. This is for many of us a difficult realisation; because we so often place ourselves in the way of our own healing.
In a modern society where there is so much acquisitiveness, the idea of receptivity may save us from what is ephemeral. The experience of receptivity, channelled in God, is creative and fruitful. What then might a receptive Church look like? A receptive Church is one which has learnt to discern what remains true for us from what is suspect and counterfeit. This is particularly true of those situations where the language used and the assumptions made about our world turn out to be manipulative and lacking in human respect. A receptive Church is one which practises thanksgiving for what has been received. Thanksgiving as a gift and a necessity – preventing us from becoming casual and unthinking in our dealings with one another. A receptive Church is one which has learnt to listen, not only with the ear, but to listen to persons in the fullness of their being, no matter whom they may be and no matter how difficult this may be. A listening Church is one which can include and can hold together difficult elements in the one work and witness. A receptive Church is one which continues to learn what it is to practise the Christian Faith not as something completed and finished but as something which is continually being worked out and which will have no ending in this life. A receptive Church is patient. It has to be!
A spirituality of receptivity is one which is capable of inhabiting places of silence and even of disonance with composure. It is a spiritual practice which acknowledges God before all else. In John’s Gospel he speaks of God as not just pertaining to love but of actually being love itself. And love is not divided. A receptive church is undivided. To receive God is to be in receipt of a love which has already been freely granted to us. To be receptive in this way is to respond naturally to what God already is and to what God already gives – his own being. Our hope is to come to know this. But we place so many things in the way and we are all too aware of how we blank God out of our existences. Even so a receptive church is not discouraged; it lives in hope which is the Christ of mercy; He the One in whom we can see ourselves as we really are in the promise of his forgiveness. He remains present.
Nathaniel has said that “nothing good can come from Nazareth”, but indeed something has come from Nazareth – goodness itself. In fact, its very incarnation. This is a part of his Epiphany; his and our glory.
To ‘come and see’ in this instance is to come before God as receptive beings, to inhabit that place and that love which is above and beyond all other considerations, and which makes it possible to reach beyond ourselves to that place of witness which is proved real. And in all this God lies before us to guide us in the right way.
Here is a well-known poem by George Herbert; a celebration of joy in response to God’s freely given grace in the repetition of summoning and receptive phrases:
Come, my Way, my Truth, my Life:
Such a way as gives us breath;
Such a truth as ends all strife,
Such a life as killeth death.
Come, my Light, my Feast, my Strength:
Such a light as shows a feast,
Such a feast as mends in length,
Such a strength as makes his guest.
Come, my Joy, my Love, my Heart:
Such a joy as none can move,
Such a love as none can part,
Such a heart as joys in love.
The Feast of the Epiphany
8th Jan 2012
Today is The Feast of the Epiphany - that great festival on which Christians have celebrated the manifestation, or showing forth, of the glory of God in Jesus Christ, the Word of God made flesh.
Just as the showing forth of the glory of God in Christ takes many different forms, so our season of Epiphany commemorates many different things. First, the coming of the wise men from the East to worship at the cradle of the Infant Christ; then, tomorrow in fact, the Baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan by John the Baptist, with the voice from heaven declaring that this Jesus is the beloved son of God; then the visit of Jesus, at twelve years old, to the Temple at Jerusalem, where the learned doctors were astonished by his understanding and his answers; and then, a series of Jesus' miracles: the changing of water into wine at the marriage feast at Cana; the healing of a leper, and the centurion's palsied servant; and the calming of the troubled sea. Then, at the end of the season of Epiphany, we have prophetic lessons about the final coming of the Son of God, in power and great glory.
Many different things - a great diversity of commemorations; yet they are tied together by one common theme. They are all aspects of the showing forth, the shining forth, the "Epiphany" of the divine glory of Jesus Christ, the Eternal Son of God, the Eternal Word of God, made flesh. Thus these many commemorations of Epiphany make up a continuing meditation upon the meaning of the Christmas miracle - the miracle of God with us, God in our flesh, Emmanuel, God visible to human eyes, God audible to human ears, God tangible to human touch, God manifest in human life, judging, restoring, and transforming our world by the grace and truth he brings.
On the Feast of Epiphany we commemorate the coming of the wise men. Those learned travellers - perhaps Chaldean scientists, astronomers (actually, we know very little about them) - came first to Jerusalem, the Royal City, the obvious place to look for the new-born Jewish King. But, instructed by the Scriptures, they were directed further on, to Bethlehem, and it was a strange sort of King they found there: they found a little child there, with Mary, his mother, and they fell down and worshipped him. There, at the manger, they offered their symbolic gifts; gold, acknowledging a king; incense, the symbol of God's presence; and myrrh, the ancient funeral spice, recognizing the mortal human nature of the Son of God, destined to suffer and to die in sacrifice for all mankind.
What was there, after all, about the humble manger scene to suggest the divinity, the kingship, and the sacrificial destiny of the Infant Christ? How was divine glory shown forth there? Surely, it was a glory visible only to the eyes of faith: faith, to see in a helpless infant, who cannot even stutter, the Almighty Word of God; faith, to see the King of Kings, and Lord of all the worlds, in a swaddled baby, who cries for mother's milk; faith, to see the Very Son of God in the poverty of a cattle stall, exposed to all the bitter winds of human indifference and disdain and the arrival of impending danger.
It does seem unwise of the wise men to come to Bethlehem and to seek after a helpless babe born of Jewish artisan parents. But this is their wisdom: a restless wisdom which seeks to find something previously unknown, something that will change their lives and the lives of others for their own good. This is a reminder that faith ever calls us back, to work out our salvation in the common, everyday life of the Christian fellowship, the disciplined routines of Christian worship, prayer and study, and in works of Christian charity. And yet faith also beckons us forward, is a point of departure, and our response to the given-ness of God’s grace is to accept it and to follow our guiding star, wherever it will lead us…
Christian life is not about emotional excitement: it is rather the careful, thoughtful learning of the Word of God, day by day, year by year; the nutriment of the Christian sacraments, and the deeds of love and mercy which flow from Christian charity. In the normal, everyday things of the Church's life - the words of Scripture, prayers and sermons, the outward signs of sacraments - the world sees only human words, only poor and common things: halting human speech, a bit of water, bits of bread and wine, and so on. But faith has eyes to see in all these things the shining forth, the "Epiphany" of the Son of God, the miracle of God with us, Emmanuel. And faith has gifts to offer him; not much, perhaps, in worldly terms, but by his own grace we have that one best gift, acknowledging his divinity, his kingship, and his sacrifice, the gift he treasures most - the gift of adoration, the gift of the humble obedience of mind and heart.
Epiphany is a time to go with the wise men and “to see what things have come to pass”. It is a time to follow our deeper instincts and to go for that which has the power to make us whole. And our response is one which finds us here at worship, in this place and at this time each week we kneel before the God who appeared to the wise men as an infant child and who comes to us now as our life’s true nourishment and with it the experience and the promise of the glory which was and is and is to come.
"Fear not to enter his courts, in the slenderness
Of the poor wealth thou canst reckon as thine,
Truth in its beauty and love in its tenderness,
These are the offerings to lay on his shrine.
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!"
Sermon for the Feast of the Naming and Circumcision of Jesus
1st Jan 2012
“…and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel”. Luke 2.21.
William Ewer once said, “How odd of God to choose the Jews” to which a reply came back ”how strange of man to change the plan”. Or Ogden Nash’s rejoinder “…not so odd, the Jews chose God”. There is no getting away from the Jewish origins of Christianity, and today we begin a new year as we celebrate and honour the name of Jesus. Jesus’ circumcision locates him within a particular religion and culture. But this did not have the last word. In the century following the death of Jesus there was a struggle to assert a distinctively Christian identity out of the old Jewish inheritance. This identity lay in the person of Jesus who was both a traditional and practising Jew and yet came to fulfil the promises of Jewish scripture as the promised Messiah.
The early Church not only embraced The Holy Name of Jesus. It internalised it. It lived it. It was in the name of Jesus that the community found its reason for being. This was at variance from Judaism, which saw its identity as a chosen people and nation. For Christianity, the identifying mark was that of the life and death and resurrection of Jesus Christ himself. The identity was named not after a place or a people but in one person, Jesus. The Church did not exist as a personality cult : the manner of Jesus’ sacrificial death was crucial to its spiritual identity. From the beginning of its life, the early church shared a eucharistic meal, which remembered and re-enacted the Last Supper, and in which the words and gestures of Jesus became significant of themselves. In this meal, the community were brought together in their shared faith and became at one with Christ and with one another. As St Paul put it,
…we who are many are one body, because we all share in one bread. (Romans 12.5)
Didache, a very early Century history of the Christian community, written in 90AD shows a very distinct eucharistic community. It recognises its Jewish inheritance and yet the scope of its new Christian vision is breathtaking. It is revealed in this simple eucharistic prayer:
As this broken bread once scattered on the mountains, and after it had been brought together became one, so may thy Church be gathered together from the ends of the earth into thy kingdom, through Jesus Christ for ever and ever.
The Eucharist, Holy Communion, the Mass was to become the mainstay of the Church’s existence. It was known to be the sacrament which claimed dominical authority from the lips of Christ himself when he said ‘do this in remembrance of me’. And the sharing in the Eucharist developed from being at first a fellowship meal which encouraged the faithful and remembered the Passover sacrifice to becoming, during the centuries of persecution under various Roman Emperors, a powerful means of keeping the group of beleaguered yet growing faithful together and which determined the church’s growth.
By the time of the Emperor Constantine’s conversion to Christianity in around 320 AD Christianity was influential and widespread. It now had, in terms which all could understand and respect, a world standing. It had been a faith strong enough to establish itself in the hearts and minds of individuals and communities from very diverse backgrounds and cultures. The name; the life and death and resurrection of Jesus communicated itself to the then known world in ways it could understand and honour. It was in the sharing of the Eucharist that the name of Jesus was manifest within and then increasingly beyond the compact Judaeo-Christian circles of the earlier centuries. Now, by 320, Christianity took its place, for better or worse, as a religion given the full Imperial treatment. If you go to Ravenna the mosaics in the Church of San Vitale tell you that The Church has by this time become the beating heart of the history and culture of the western world. The Emperor Justinian is surrounded by his bishops who occupy with him the place of honour. It is from these early centuries that the eucharist which sustained the beleaguered early communities became emphatically communicative and ceremonial, in which movements and gestures, vestments, the carrying of candles, the making of corporate confession, the reading from scripture, the procession of the Gospel book, the saying of great eucharistic prayers and the establishment of great churches and the building of altars all contributed to the church as we recognise it today. But with all this came the concern for the life of the people generally and the attention given to the poor and the needy. The life of Christ was manifest not only from within the Church’s worshipping life, but outwardly in its relation to the world around it. This was one of the causes of its strong survival. Jesus was synonymous with the practice of a vital and sacrificial love. Where he had gone, the Christian Church was to follow. The scale and scope of this was evident, convincing and humanitarian.
I have offered this thumbnail history of the first five centuries of the Christian Church’s life for two reasons. The first of these is to come, on this first Sunday of a new year, to underline the importance the church attaches to the name of Jesus. In this name and in this identity do we stand or fall as Christians. This name is made present in this and in all celebrations of the Holy Eucharist in which we, though many, we are made one body in Him. To receive Jesus in this way is to lay claim to the Christian inheritance of faith in its entirety.
Secondly it is important for me on this day in which we are celebrating the Holy Eucharist according to the Anglican Rite to recognise and honour the Christian inheritance. To do this is to look not upon a narrow range of local possibilities but to catch sight of a broad horizon in which we, living in this twelfth year of this twenty-first century, embrace a tradition which takes us back to Christ himself. In this Eucharist, we participate in the life of Christ with all those who have ever gone before us. All those who in whatever time or circumstance have come to receive Christ in this holy sacrament, and in receiving him have been granted a share in the divine life. It is by him and alongside them that we stand before God and hear the words of Luke in today’s Gospel. “He was called Jesus” , the name given not by man or by posterity alone, but by a messenger come from the father, an angel sent to fulfil in Jesus and in us the true purposes of the divine initiative…
Father we thank Thee who has planted
Thy holy name within our hearts.
Knowledge and faith and life immortal
Jesus The 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 power, be Thine the praise.
Watch o'er Thy Church, O Lord, in mercy,
Save it from evil, guard it still,
Perfect it in Thy love, unite it,
Cleansed and conformed unto Thy will.
As grain, once scattered on the hillsides,
Was in the broken bread made one,
So from all lands Thy Church be gathered
Into Thy kingdom by Thy Son.
From The Didache, 90 AD.
New English Hymnal No. 284.