The blessing of being alongsides

David HerbertLeave a comment

A reflection on Psalm 1 and Luke 6:17-26 for two small congregations in a group of parishes in vacancy.
The 3rd Sunday before Lent – Year C

In last week’s gospel (Luke 5:1-11) crowds surrounded Jesus so much that to find space for himself Jesus needed to get into a boat on the lake as crowds gathered around Him to hear His teachings.

We have another crowd in today’s gospel (Luke 6:17-26). There’s a large crowd of his disciples (including the twelve he called “apostles”), and “a great number of people from all over Judea, from Jerusalem, from the coastal region around Tyre and Sidon” who had come to hear him and be healed of their diseases.

In the context of safeguarding we need to note that Luke has underlined where Jesus was in relation to the crowd. He is not “high up”, over others. 

In the boat on the lake he would have been lower than his hearers. 

And in today’s gospel Luke paints a different picture to Matthew’s Sermon on the Mount. Luke has them all on a level place – Jesus on the level with all the people. 

In this, and so many other ways, Luke is wanting to show how Jesus stands in relation to others – never overbearing, never patronising, always side by side – as typified by walking incognito with disciples to Emmaus. 

There is no distance between Jesus and the people. He was there with them, eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder, side by side, valuing relationship over hierarchy.

That’s the position you’re hoping to fill, isn’t it? You’re hoping for a priest who will ask your permission to come alongside, as your helper. It’s probably also the position we long to be ourselves, alongside others with others alongside us.

None of us are ever safe when people look down on us, and nobody is safe from us as long we look down on them. Jesus’ physical positioning in relation to others guarantees safety. He is the good shepherd.

That’s how Jesus positioned himself, alongside us, always on the side of those he blesses. What is our position? Where do we stand?

The psalmist points to those who take a very different position. They “walk in the counsel of the wicked”, “linger in the way of sinners” and join “the assembly of the scornful”. They’re condemned. They won’t stand the judgement of the law of the Lord or stand in the “congregation of the righteous”.

There is another way. That is the way of Jesus and all those who delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on his law day and night. They’re the ones blessed and the psalmist sees them like trees “planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season”.

There is a clear choice: the way of the wicked, or the way of the Lord. It’s either blessings or curse.

I had to go to a two column format to get our two readings on one sheet of paper. But in so doing I have shown the pairings: 

Blessed are all you who are poor, but woe to you who are rich
Blessed are you who hunger now, but woe to you who are well fed now
Blessed are you who weep now, but woe to you who laugh now
Blessed are you when people hate you, exclude you and insult you, and woe to you when everyone speaks well of you

This is the law of the Lord. This is Jesus’ teaching. This is the law of the Lord according to Luke who has already given us Mary’s song celebrating the ways of God in scattering the proud, toppling rulers from their thrones, raising the humble and humiliated, filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich empty away. This is the law of the Lord. (Luke 1:46-53).

This is the law of the Lord brought to us by Luke who has already told us how Jesus preached in the synagogue about the law of the Lord being good news for the poor: freedom for prisoners, recovery of sight for the blind and liberation for the oppressed. (Luke 4:18-19).

This is the law of the Lord our scriptures describe as blessed. This is the law that delights the blessed but which the wicked, the sinners and the scornful scorn. This is the law that those who are blessed think on day and night, according to Psalm 1.

They are like a tree planted by streams of water, bearing fruit in due season, with leaves that do not wither.

When I read that verse this week my mind went to a sculpture called The River of Life which runs down the main shopping street in Warrington. The sculpture was built by Warrington Council after two bombs were detonated by the IRA, killing 3 year old Johnathan Ball and 12 year old Tim Parry and injuring 56 others. It was the day before Mothering Sunday, March 20th, 1993.

The city council turned to a sculptor to discuss a memorial. Stephen Broadbent was the sculptor. He saw that the street was not just physically broken, but spiritually broken as well. He wanted to design something that would be “a symbol of renewal and faith in the power of the human spirit to triumph over adversity and to invest the future with hope.”

His inspiration was the image of the river of life in Revelation 22.
The angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing out from the throne of God and of the Lamb down the middle of the great street of the city. On each side of the river stood the tree of life, bearing twelve crops of fruit, yielding its fruit every month. And the leaves of the tree are here for the healing of the nations.

And so it is. Now, flowing down that street is the River of Life  he made and on either side of the streaming water are trees, one for each month, each bearing fruits of the Spirit for the healing of the nations, for all times and seasons.

And so it is in Psalm 1 where the blessed are like a tree planted by streams of water bearing fruit in due season. I wonder that Stephen Broadbent himself is one of those trees, planted by the stream of tragedy and violence, leaving blessings of hope and healing through the season of trauma and grief.

I’ve seen photocards with these verses from Psalm 1. In them the stream is picturesque with sunlight reflecting from its gentle flow. The psalm doesn’t say the water is safe. 

The stream may be dangerous, fast flowing floodwater, a tidal wave, or deep or toxic. 

Or with a stretch of the imagination, the waters could be the waters that have to break for us to be born or baptised. 

Or the stream and the metaphor may be a metaphor for life.

Does the law of the Lord raise up people who delight in the law that there should be people by all the rough waters of life, that there should be lifesavers of healing, hope and blessing bearing fruit for all seasons of difficulty and danger?

It’s worth visiting that sculpture in Warrington. It’s on Bridge Street. It was always Bridge Street. The street hasn’t been renamed because of the sculpture and its intention to bridge the awful violence that tore people’s lives apart.

And here we are. The Bridges Group of Parishes – so called because of the bridges of the villages that make up the group of parishes. And the bridges are there to bridge the waterways that cut through the landscape.

We’ve reflected on Jesus’ position in relation to the crowds that streamed to him. We’ve reflected on the Psalmist’s position on those who delight in the law of the Lord.
We’ve reflected on the sculptor’s position in relation to the trauma of a community.
What about our own position?

Are we bridge builders and lifesavers? Do we delight in the law of the Lord, meditating on his law day and night? Are we blessed as agents of blessing, healing and hope? Or are we a curse on the poor, the stranger, the refugee, and all those vulnerable to losing their life at sea because we take our cues from the scornful, lingering in the way of sinners, taking the counsel of sinners?

Where are we as the river of life flows through our lives? Are we bridgebuilders offering healing where there has been division, hope where there has been despair? Are we like trees that bear the fruits of God’s Spirit, the fruits of love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control (against which no other law can stand) (Galatians 5:22f)? 

What is our position in relation to those Jesus blesses? Are we on their side, or are we on the side condemned by Jesus, with those who’ve grown rich at the expense of the poor, those who have stuffed themselves while so many go hungry, those who can afford to laugh while the rest of the world is in bits, those who walk the corridors of powers and still exclude, insult and reject others?

For as long as we delight in the law of the Lord, for as long as we seek to understand it, we will be on the side of those in the roughest of waters.

Here Am I: Embracing God’s Call in Worship

David HerbertLeave a comment

Worship fires us. Worship hires us. This is what we see at the heart of our two readings today. (Isaiah 6:1-8 and Luke 5:1-11). This is a sermon for the 4th Sunday before Lent for a small church “in vacancy”.

The poetry of Mary Oliver is full of worship. Here are some of her lines:

Poems are not words, after all,
but fires for the cold,
ropes let down to the lost,
something as necessary as bread
in the pockets of the hungry.

Poems are not words, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as food in the pockets of the hungry.

There is poetry in the heart of worship – fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost. We repeat these lines of poetry in the heart of our worship. We call it the Sanctus. The poetry goes along these two lines:

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty,
the whole earth is full of his glory.

This is the song of the seraphim overheard by the prophet Isaiah in his vision of heaven when he was transported in worship. They are words which reverberate in our own worship. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty. The whole earth is full of his glory. This has become our song too.

In Mary Oliver’s words, they are fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost. Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty; the earth is full of his glory. This is the song of those Isaiah sees around the throne – the song of the seraphim. 

Seraphim are the fiery ones. That is the meaning of seraphim. Their words are fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost. They are ropes we hang onto as we join Isaiah as he is transported in worship.

The whole earth is full of his glory. This is the faith of the heavenly host. It doesn’t mean that everything is hunky dory. Isaiah knows only too well his own lies and the lies of those around him. I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips. And that hasn’t changed over the centuries, has it? We say one thing and mean another. We mislead and are misled. Truth is distorted to our own ends. We, too, are a people of unclean lips living among a people of unclean lips.

In our gospel reading Simon Peter is transported to a similar sense of wonder and worship. Luke paints the scene well. Jesus is on the edge of the lake, with people on the edge. 

Crowds are all around him. The only space he could find was by getting into the boat of one of the fishermen, one whose life was all at sea, a landless labourer on the lowest level of Roman occupations pushed to the edge by the taxes they had to pay for the right to fish and the right to sell their fish. Jesus put himself in the same boat as them.

Jesus told Simon Peter to put out a little from the shore – and there Jesus sat and taught the crowds on the shore. (Interestingly, he would have been on a lower lever to those he was teaching.)

Jesus then told Simon Peter to “put out into deep water, and there let down the nets for a catch”. They were astonished by how much they caught because they had been fishing all night and had caught nothing.

To deep water, far from the safe haven where everything is smooth sailing is where Jesus led Simon Peter, to where life is desperate, dangerous and difficult, the place we’re afraid to go to – and it was there that Simon Peter saw the glory of the Lord in the miraculous catch which would mean that he and his partners had something to take to market.

Both Simon Peter and Isaiah are gifted a vision of the glory of the Lord that fills the earth. Simon Peter’s reaction is similar to Isaiah’s. “Go away from me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” Jesus answers as if to calm the storm arising in Simon Peter. “Don’t be afraid.” he tells Simon Peter. “From now on you will fish for people.” And from that moment they did, pulling their boats onto the shore. They left everything and followed Jesus.

For Isaiah it had been a burning coal from one of the fiery ones to his unclean lips which took away his guilt and opened his mouth to the Lord’s question, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?” with his own words, “Here am I. Send me!”

Both recruits, Isaiah and Simon Peter were recruited in worship and their sense of the glory of the Lord that fills the whole earth. Neither recruit thought themselves worthy. One was a man of unclean lips, the other “a sinful man”.  Neither was a strong candidate, neither had anything they needed to prove and neither was recruited on merit. Once again we see the rule of the kingdom of God which starts with the last and the least in the building of that kingdom – the very opposite to the general rules of every other kingdom.

And here are we. Here are we, caught up in worship, sharing the sense of God’s glory in spite of our unworthiness, clinging to the songlines from the heart of heaven through the amazing grace of God. Lines let down to the lost, as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord Almighty,
the whole earth is full of his glory.

And here we are. Here we are in what we call “a vacancy” waiting for someone who knows the earth is full of God’s glory to say to the Bishop “here am I, send me”, someone who will leave everything to follow Jesus to the Bridges Group.

And here we are. Here we are – possibly tiring in waiting. It is, after all, getting to be a long vacancy. Let us not lose heart. Our worship becomes our encouragement however deep the water in which we find ourselves. Let the live coal touch our lips and be the fire for our cold hearts so that we don’t become prophets of doom.

Even in the waiting, God’s glory is at work. It may seem like there is no answer, but His glory fills the earth, and He is already moving in ways we can’t always see.

Here we are, worshipping through the amazing grace of God in sight of the glory which fills the earth. Our worship opens our minds, our hearts and our mouths. Our worship prepares our next step beyond our unworthiness

Our worship calls us back to God’s glory. How shall we respond to that call? Is ours a “yes” to God, or a “no” to God? Peter typifies us. His call reminds us that God is always at work in the deep waters, in the quiet moments, in the challenging seasons preparing his people to fish for people by reaching out in love and serving in faith. How shall we respond? What is the “here am I” that God is waiting to hear from our heart.

Here we are.
Here we are,
a few of us,
too few of us
if we keep saying “No”,
enough of us
if our response is “Yes”,
all of us
growing older by the day.
Here we are
looking round for help.
Who’ll do this,
who’ll do that?

It’s easy to lose heart and to say “nobody will”. That is the language of doomsayers and the sound of bitter experience. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy and it’s the sound of people speaking for everybody. It’s not the sound of hope and not the sound of those who believe God’s glory is at work throughout the world in ways we can’t always see.

Here we are, without churchwardens. “Nobody wants to be churchwarden”. That is doomsaying and is without hope. When we say “Nobody wants to be ….” we are speaking for everybody. We can’t speak for everybody, only for ourselves.  Somebody will be churchwarden. It’s just a case of waiting for one or two people to be caught up in the glory that fills the earth – for their “yes” to the call they hear in their sense of worship, and for their reassurance that their recruitment is not about their merit but about God’s love and glory.

Even in the waiting, God’s glory is at work. It may seem like there is no answer, but His glory fills the earth, and He is already moving in ways we can’t always see.

How will each of us respond to the call of the moment when we realise Holy, holy, holy is the Lord almighty and the whole earth is full of his glory. The call will be different for each of us. 

What is the “Here am I” that God is waiting to hear from your heart?

God’s work in broken community

David HerbertLeave a comment

Reflecting on Paul’s call to order and Jesus’ manifesto in the readings for the day, 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a and Luke 4:14-21 for the 3rd Sunday of Epiphany (C) for two small congregations in a lively/lovely group of parishes in rural Warwickshire. This post includes a video of Bishop Mariann Edgar Budde discussing her sermon that made headlines following President Trump’s inauguration service.

January 26th 2025

First of all, a note. I normally get round the problem of God’s pronoun by  using the name of God instead of a pronoun.  But, here, I am going to need a pronoun. There are many objections to using “he/him” because the name God is then linked with power, privilege and patriarchy – and the language we use about God needs to set God free from such associations, particularly in these days of right wing nationalism popularised by men such as Trump, Putin, Musk and Netanyahu. So, for this sermon, when I need to resort to God’s pronouns it will be she/her. I hope you will understand why.

In a world where God’s name is often associated with power, control, and patriarchy, using ‘she/her’ reminds us that God transcends these human limitations and works to free us from systems that seek to dehumanize and divide. It is not an attempt to redefine God’s essence but to challenge our projections of power. Forever God gathers the lost, gives strength to those who are weak, and honour to those who have been shamed and ashamed.

In the midst of controversy Paul has this to say to the troubled, disjointed community of Corinth. “We were all baptised by one Spirit so as to form one body – whether Jews or Gentiles, slave or free”. Here was a community facing all sorts of problems with all sorts of differences. Paul reminds them what God does in the middle of such a community. She brings us together to form one body from the splinters and divisions. She gathers us from far and wide and makes of us one body whatever the differences between us.

Paul stands in the middle of the conflict and witnesses to what God does. He reminds the community of the abundance of God’s gifts and the value and diversity of each and every one of them for the purpose of community building and reconciliation, reminding the body around him that every member needs every other body to fully function. 

Perhaps Paul remembered the prophecy in the valley of dry bones – a valley of untold war crimes from which the bones of those killed were left out in the scorching sun for the wild animals to pick the meat from. The sound from this valley overshadowed in death was the noise of a disjointed people overwhelmed by tragedy. “Our bones are dried up, our hope is lost” is what they said. (Ezekiel 37:11). Those bones speak of a people abandoned, dehumanised and rendered invisible. In that valley Ezekiel was made to tell the truth about what God does, how she undoes the shame by breathing life into the very bones of a community destroyed, dismembered and left to rot.


This is what God does. Even as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death, God brings us together. From the four corners of the world, Jews and Gentiles, slave and free, God brings us together in love in spite of differences between us. The Spirit that breathes life into the valley of dry bones is the same Spirit Paul saw at work amongst the Corinthians and is the same Spirit that unites us as the body of Christ, knitting us together from the corners of the world, and overcoming shame, division, and death itself.

You see, God remembers us. She remembers bodies that are broken, whether that be in the valley of dry bones, or the valley overshadowed by death, or communities torn asunder. 

Remembering for God isn’t simply a case of casting her mind back, as we would usually remember. God’s remember is always a re-creation, a bringing back together of what’s become disjointed and scattered, and making whole what has become broken. God’s remembering is a literal re-membering of the body, the remaking of community through the gifts of her Spirit.

This is, if you like, another creation story – the coming together of a people through the creativity of God’s Spirit. The Spirit remembers us as one body – connecting toe bone to foot bone to ankle bone to leg bone to knee bone to thigh bone.

So Paul reminds the broken body around him that God has remembered them. God has remembered their broken body. “God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them” – just as she wanted them to be.

He goes on: “God has put the body together so that there should be no division in the body.” This is what God does and this is why God does it. God knits us together in love to be a strong body, a resilient body, a withstanding body, a body that can stand, even in the valley overshadowed by death.

This is what God does. She puts the body together.  

And this is what she does as a rule. She gives “greater honour to the parts that lacked it”. The rule of God is always to put the last and the least first. Here we see that rule being followed again with greater honour given to the parts that lacked it so that those parts which seemed weaker become indispensable and those parts thought less honourable are treated with special honour. This is how God remembers her people. This is what God builds a body for.

This is not just a spiritual gathering; this is a body meant for action. To be bound together by the Spirit is to be called into the work of justice, to bring good news to the poor, freedom to the prisoners, sight to the blind and liberation to the oppressed. This is the body God is building: a body that stands in stark contrast to the systems of division, hatred and shame that continue to pull our bodies apart.

We are the body God is building – here today listening to the body God prepared for us, listening to Jesus as he finds the body’s purpose revealed through the prophet Isiaiah to read to his fellow villagers in their synagogue in Nazareth.

The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for prisoners, and recovery of sight for the blind, to set the oppressed free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour. 

Mariann Budde is a member of the body of Christ, gifted to be Bishop of Washington, president within a community God has brought together. It was her responsibility to preach at the prayer service in her cathedral. She preached the only way she could appealing to President Trump for mercy for those afraid because of the policies of the incoming president – those who are gay, lesbian or trans, and immigrants being targeted for deportation. Trump should not have been surprised by her appeal. She was only embodying the very work of the body of Christ. In a time when power is often wielded by shame and divide, the body of Christ cries out on behalf of the oppressed, the disempowered and broken. This is the DNA of the body of Christ. This is all God brings us together for. This is what we are gifted for. We can do no other.

Closing prayer

God of unity, you breathe life into us and call us to be one body in Christ. We thank you for the gifts you’ve placed within each of us, and we ask that you strengthen us as a community, that we may bear witness to your love. We pray for healing where there is division, for hope where there is despair, and for courage to stand with the broken and the oppressed. May your Spirit unite us in justice, peace, and compassion. In Jesus’ name, we pray. Amen.

Finding Unity in January’s Gloom

David Herbert2 Comments

2nd Sunday of Epiphany (C) – part of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. The readings for the day are 1 Corinthians 12:1-11 and John 2:1-11.
January 18th 2025

How’s your January going?

I’ve heard January described as “one long Monday”.

Dare I ask, how are the new year’s resolutions going? Are you keeping them, have you lapsed or have you forgotten what they even were?

We’re quite self-centred in our resolutions aren’t we? They tend to be centred on what we are going to do for ourselves and on our own. We tend to set the resolutions on our own. On our own we tend to set personal goals without deeper reflection on the greater needs around us. Our resolutions can be shockingly disconnected from our shared reality, such as the climate crisis, the migration crisis and the cost of living crisis.

And we make the resolutions at the time of the year we’re in the worst shape to keep them, in the gloom of January, when we’re often under the weather, whether the “weather” be the worst cold of the year, or whether “the weather” be our personal health, suffering flu or the worst cold of the year. Our resolutions are fragile. Our resolutions, if they could choose, would appreciate a February start, not a January one!

Tomorrow is Blue Monday, supposedly the most depressing day of the year. I wonder whether the likely failure of our resolution is a factor in this, alongside the cold, the credit card bills, the dark nights etc etc.

Our Sunday worship is our opportunity to reorientate ourselves in these days of darkness. The season of Epiphany takes us through January to February 2nd and gives us one epiphany after another, to help us to find our way and strengthen our resolve. There is one revelation after another.

Last Sunday it was the voice of revelation from the heavens when Jesus was baptised. Today it’s the changing of the water into wine and Mary’s instruction to the stewards to do what Jesus tells them that is the revelation. John writes: “What Jesus did here in Cana of Galilee was the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory.” These signs are revelations of God’s glory in the world – a new way of seeing and being in the world.

And, in our reading from Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, all the gifts of the Spirit to a troubled community are a manifestation of the Holy Spirit of God working through that community for the common good. “There are different kinds of service but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but in all of them and in everyone it is the same God [we see] at work”.

Paul sets out his reason for writing to the Corinthians (in 1:10). His purpose was “to appeal to you, brothers and sisters, by the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that all of you be in agreement and that there be no divisions among you, but that you be united in the same mind and the same purpose. Paul’s appeal for unity isn’t just a call for believers to find agreement, but for them to see beyond their own individual desires and divisions. 

The gifts of the Spirit Paul talks about are not meant to isolate or empower individuals but to strengthen the body of Christ. The gifts of the Spirit are for the common good. Paul’s list reminds us that unity is not about sameness, but about recognising and celebrating the diversity of God’s work in us. Seeing that is a revelation of God’s glory in the church. Not seeing that reveals God’s powerlessness, even in the church where Jesus is supposedly lord.

Yesterday marked the beginning of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, a week of prayer when we pray that we will pray along with Jesus for all who believe in him that they (we) may be one and that they (we) “may be brought to complete unity”. That was Jesus’s prayer that we are called to join this week in particular. It’s a prayer to withstand our horrible histories and to find resolutions to all that divides us. It’s not a prayer for doctrinal unity but is a practical commitment to reconciliation and understanding. The prayer for unity which we are called to join Jesus in is prayer for the kind of unity which reveals God’s love to the world, a unity which transcends the personal, political, racial and denominational divisions of our horrible histories.

Jesus knew that then, when his prayer for unity was answered that that would be epiphany and revelation. “Then the world will know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me.” (John 17:20-23)

The Roman Catholic Church are keeping 2025 as a Jubilee year. It sounds notes of joy and jubilation in our calendar. Every 25th year is kept in jubilee picking up on Jubilees referred to in Leviticus when the 50th year became a time for putting the economy right. Indentured servants were released from servitude, debts were forgiven and everyone was returned to their property. Imagine the jubilation!

This 2025 Jubilee was proclaimed in the papal bull, the title of which translates as “Hope does not disappoint”.  The motto for the year is “Pilgrims of Hope”. That is to be their resolution. Jubilee begins with the opening of the doors of the basilica in the Vatican. On Christmas Eve, Pope Francis knocked on the holy door of St Peter’s basilica. The door was swung open and Francis rolled through in his wheelchair.. There are four such doors in the Vatican. On the Feast of Stephen, December 26th, a fifth door was opened. This was the door of the prison in Rebibbia in Rome and this was intended to serve as a symbol “inviting all prisoners to look to the future with hope and a renewed sense of confidence”. In other words, this was another epiphany – a revelation of how the prisoners, and ourselves, can see ourselves and one another differently because of the glory of God in the world.

I have included their logo of the Jubilee on the sheet of readings. The four figures come from all corners of the world. They represent all people that on earth do dwell. They embrace each other as they hold on to the cross which anchors them in hope as they (we) navigate rough seas as pilgrims of hope.

Is this an image we can take with us into this special week of prayer and even, with fresh resolution, into the rest of the year? How will we embody the unity which Jesus prayed for? How can we be signs of his love? How can we resolve our differences and conflicts? How can we align ourselves with God’s greater purpose? It won’t be in our own strength. None of us are resolute enough for that. To change the world God’s Spirit wants to work through us, strengthening our resolve to do his will.

Star-Gazing: The Magic of the Magi’s Journey

David HerbertLeave a comment

I resorted to verse for this sermon to celebrate Epiphany and highlight the Magi. It was prepared for a small congregation which has heard too much from me over recent weeks. I don’t know – maybe verse is worse! The gospel for the day is Matthew 2:1-12

They’re not like us

They’re not like us
those wise men three.
We’ve flattened them out, 
to two dimensional processors
across our Christmas cards.

That’s how we know them
those wise men three.
We’ve called them wise,
with balls of men
who’ve travelled so far.

But we don’t know that
they were three, or wise,
or even men. We don’t know
what else they carried,
or even what they wore.

The text doesn’t say
this and doesn’t say that.
This is what we’ve made them
camel-backed men
who’ve travelled so far.

Magi from the East
is all Matthew called them.
Let that name stick
to conjure up images
that make us like them

even though we travel
a different way,
from the west,
with the sun on our face
for the dawn of new day.

We too come as outsiders,
foreigners finding a way
from one place to another
along so many different paths,
some scarcely travelled.


How we got here
is quite the story
each one needs to tell.
Some by way of suffering,
others carried from cradle,

or a spirit making us friends
rather than strangers
carried away by grace
on waves of compassion,
or there was a word we heard.

Some have come the easy way.
Others have have found it
hard to find, picking out ways,
far more dangerous ways,
in small boats on giant seas.

We’ve walked from different places.
Some from disaster zones
of brokenness and treachery,
devastated by war, through the valley
overshadowed by death.

Some have come quickly,
a snap decision to put things down,
to run. Yet others
have slowly taken their time,
taking that long way round.

How did we all get here?
What were the paths we took?
What was the help along the way?
Who showed us where to look?
What wonder draws us together?

The Magi headed straight.
The highway was their way
to Jerusalem
to those in the know,
the priests, the teachers and king.

Little did they know.
They pointed another way
spying  for Herod amongst the least
in little Bethlehem of Judea.
Just follow the star.

And here’s how we see them,
bowed down, on their knees,
their treasure opened,
a feast of thanks, all gold,
frankincense and myrrh.

Worshipping we see them.
Are we bowed down, overjoyed?
Are we not also
worshippers like Magi,
so called by Matthew?

Magi believe in magic.
They major in magic
and the wisdom of magic
which knows both its wonder
and the malevolence of magic,

the devilish tricks, lies
misinformation, false promises
the charms of cruel calculation.
This too is magic; dark arts
masked in malevolence.

But there’s a light
that shines in darkness
that makes us wonder the magic.
“Where did that come from?
How did that happen?”

That’s magic. Then
there’s the babies
Herod would destroy.
Have you seen how babies
light up worn-out faces?

That’s the magic we love,
the power that changes the world
turns the world around
and makes all things new.
That’s the magic to die for.

Then there’s ourselves:
how we got here to worship
the one who works magic
to make of us one,
like Magi we come

following a star.
It’s hard to believe
the magic which makes
so much of so little,
like a baby or even Bethlehem

or in the magic
that breaks the rules
and scatters the proud
raising the poor, the lowly,
always putting the last first.

There’s the magic
that spreads a table
and invites enemies around
to eat together to step
their way from hostility.

Magic even works in the dream
of sleep. Heed the warning.
Do not go back to Herod!
Always resist his charming ways,
the manipulation of greed and fear.

Forever choose another way,
the better way, the best way
the way that humbly builds peace
the way home found
in wonder, love and praise.

This is the challenge,
to stay the Magi way,
star-gazing like children.
Twinkle, twinkle little star
how we wonder what you are.

A star of wonder, a star so bright,
all gas and dust, perfectly balanced
in the gravity of a gracious God
who will stop at nothing
to make majesty of so little.

How did we get here?
What star of wonder called us
to bow our spirit to worship,
at a manger, an altar
reserved for Magi like us?

Endnote:

This week, as we face the decisions and distractions of daily life, let’s commit to keeping our eyes on the star – the light that calls us to humility, to peace, to worship. Whether in moments of joy or sorrow, may we follow the light that leads us home.

Acknowledgement:
For the first time I submitted the sermon draft to AI (ChatGPT) for feedback. I was bowled over by its better intelligence and the constructiveness of the feedback which encouraged me to continue with the experiment of preaching in verse. The endnote is taken from the feedback.

Wherever is Jesus? Where in the world is Jesus? Where on earth is he? Questions for the search team

David Herbert1 Comment

A reflection on the loss of Jesus for the first Sunday of Christmas (year C). The gospel is from Luke 2:41-end when Joseph and Mary lost Jesus.

Crèche, December 2023, Evangelical Lutheran Christmas Church, Bethlehem. Photo: Munther Isaac

Today is the 1st Sunday of Christmas. Christmas is far from over as we revel in its meaning for us. Tradition has given us the 12 days of Christmas. Today is the 5th day.

What did my love give me on the 5th day? I’m sure someone will sing the answer.

What’s that all about? Maybe we can guess the significance of the 4 calling birds, the 3 French hens, the 2 turtle doves, and the partridge in the pear tree. Can we?

But what are those 5 gold rings, the four calling birds, the three French hens, the two turtle doves and the partridge in a pear tree?

We see the five rings flying on the Olympic flags, bringing separated nations to play games to bring the world together. Five gold rings, each one representing a continent, all of them representing the whole world. On this 5th day of Christmas, has my true love given me the whole world?

On this 5th day of Christmas our true love gives us this story of Jesus staying behind in Jerusalem and the worry he caused. It leaves us with the question “where in the world is Jesus?” “Where on earth is he?”

This story isn’t told in the other gospels. Luke uses the story to transition from the story of Jesus’ birth to the bigger story of Jesus’ ministry. Instead of staying with his parents for their journey home to Nazareth from the temple festival in Jerusalem Jesus stays behind.

The story gives us Jesus’ first words and they’re the words I suggest we focus on this morning – just in case we lose Jesus and struggle to find him.

We can perhaps all relate to the panic of losing someone in the crowd – so we can relate to what Mary and Joseph must have felt when they realised that Jesus was no longer with them. They thought he was walking back with their relatives or friends but he wasn’t to be found amongst them. They had to go back to Jerusalem to search for him. After three days they found him in the temple courts, among the teachers, listening to them and asking questions.

Remember, this is the beginning of Luke’s gospel. What’s at the beginning of the gospel should remind us of what’s at the end and fulfilment of the gospel, and vice versa. In the end there is another walk – from Jerusalem to Emmaus. Two people walking along the road, talking together about what had happened  – and joined by a third person who turns out to be Jesus. At the beginning of the gospel there were two walking together only because one had separated himself from them. In the fulfilment of the gospel there are three only because one had joined the two.

This is the gospel of Jesus being found in the gospel of the lost and found.

In both stories it takes three days to find Jesus, and three days is a hell of a long time to have lost someone. It was in the breaking of the bread that Jesus had become known to the two disciples in Emmaus. Subsequently he is found in his speech of just four words: “Peace be with you” (24:36) and recognised in his wounds. And this is where Jesus has been found in the church ever since: in the breaking of bread, wherever the greetings of peace are heard, and in the wounds he bravely bears These are the places to look for Jesus. This is where we find Jesus.

Now, that’s a lot to say about the end of his life, particularly as it’s the fifth day of Christmas and we’ve still got the nativity set up in our homes and minds. But already at Christmas we have a birth as well as a death and resurrection. One draws attention to the other in Luke’s telling of them.

Back to the beginning with Mary and Joseph being cross with Jesus. “Son, why have you treated us like this?” And Jesus’s reply to them, “Why were you searching for me? Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” These are Jesus’ first words in the gospel of Luke. “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” But they didn’t know what he was saying to them.

This is the question I hope stays with us on this 5th day of Christmas, as we leave one secular year behind and are about to enter another – with fresh resolution to find Jesus wherever he may be – with a commitment to finding him and following him.
Where do we find Jesus?
Where do we find Jesus when we’ve lost him?
Where do we find Jesus when he’s stayed behind?
Why does he stay behind rather than going with us?

Mary and Joseph didn’t understand Jesus’ question. Luke tells us they didn’t understand what he was saying to them. Translators have struggled to capture Jesus’ meaning and have offered an alternative in the footnotes of the NIV – Did you not know I had to be about my Father’s business? But they thought he was in the family business – carpenters for the poor families of Nazareth – Joseph & Son.

But we don’t read the question “did you not know I had to be about my Father’s business? “. We read “Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?” The question is important because it is a question about where in the world Jesus can be found.

The translation in my Father’s house doesn’t quite seem right. Firstly it suggests the place Jesus can be found is so limited, and secondly it suggests Jesus can be found in a building and that leads us to churchianity rather than Christianity – with church buildings and the institution of church being the place to find Jesus when we know there are so many who love Jesus who’ve not joined a church.

Does this work as a question of Jesus for all his followers, for those who’ve lost him and those looking for him? “Did you not know you’d find me in what my Father is building?” Or, “did you not know you’d find me in whatever my Father is building?” Is that the guiding question? Is that the question to guide our search? As we build our resolution for the New Year, is that the clue to intensify our search for Jesus in what his father, our father, is building?

A couple of chapters further on in Luke’s gospel we come to what is called The Nazareth Manifesto when Jesus read in the synagogue in Nazareth from Isaiah the words, “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.” He commented afterwards, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

The word manifesto  means showing. Here is Jesus showing what he is about. He is about his father’s business. He is in whatever his father is building. It is on that building site we will find him.

They’ve built a shrine for Jesus in Bethlehem. It shows baby Jesus lying in a pile of rubble in the devastation of his people while Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, the wise men and ourselves search for him. It’s on the side of the altar at Bethlehem’s Lutheran Church. The pastor there, Munther Isaac, a prominent Palestinian peacemaker says that he wants the world to know that is what Christmas looks like in Palestine these days.

Where in the world is Jesus? Where on earth is he? These questions going through the minds of Mary and Joseph go through our minds too.

This is where to find Jesus, in the devastation, wherever there is oppression and suffering, captivity and blindness. 

He’s in the news – in the good news for the poor.
He’s in the sharing of bread.
He’s in the making of peace.
He’s among the wounded.
That is where to find him.

We need look no further.

What glory grows in the dark – a reflection for Christmas night

David HerbertLeave a comment

What glory grows in the dark

This holy night we make friends with the darkness that surrounds us and the darkness that is within us. Tonight, dear friends, we celebrate the light that shines in the darkness and the glory that grows in the dark.

Hello darkness, my old friend

I’ve come to talk with you again

Because a vision softly creeping

Left its seeds while I was sleeping

This might be the only time in the year when we come together to worship in the dark. 

Perhaps, when we were children we needed the light left on on the landing because of our fear of the dark. We grow out of that. We are right to continue to be afraid of the dark – the dark deeds of others, those who hide in the dark to harm us, and even our own dark thoughts which can easily bring us down. 

But we are among the people Isaiah refers to in our first reading, who have walked in darkness who have seen a great light, we have lived in a land of deep darkness and on us light has shone.

This is what tonight is all about. This holy night helps us make friends with darkness. Hello darkness, my old friend. We’ve come to talk with you again.

There’s a lovely quote I came across. “There is a reason the sky gets dark at night. We were not meant to see everything all the time. We were meant to rest and trust even in the darkness” (Morgan Harper Nichols).

The very first verses of our scriptures explains that in the beginning there was only darkness until God made light. He saw that the light was good and then separated the light from the darkness so that we could have day-time and night-time.

There’s always been night time and the night time gives us the opportunity not to have to see everything all the time, time to rest our eyes and trust even in the darkness. The rest and trust is something we grow into.

On this holy night we celebrate that Christ was formed in darkness – in the darkness of Mary’s womb. We all have this in common. We were all formed in the darkness of the womb. We all begin with darkness.

Hello darkness, my old friend. We’ve come to talk with you again.

Darkness is not only physical but also metaphorical. It’s a word we use to describe hopelessness, depression, grief where the darkness is not limited to night time, but stretches into days, then weeks, then into life-times. People talk of the dark night of the soul. 

The prophet, Micah, was speaking metaphorically when he said “the people who walked in darkness have seen a great light”. He knows their darkness – the yoke of their burden, the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, the boots of the tramping warriors – and for them the darkness is lit by the child to be named “Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”, and the promise that his authority will continually grow until there is endless peace upheld with justice and righteousness.

This holy night we celebrate that joy and glory are found in the darkness of night. We’ve read in tonight’s gospel – of the good news of great joy brought to the shepherds by an angel in their night watch, looking after the sheep in the darkness. The only light in the night was the glory of the Lord that shone around them. That is the light that shines in the darkness.

What glory grows in the dark!

The light that shines in the darkness makes the night hospitable and makes possible a reconciliation with our old friend Darkness. Jesus is born in our darkness and he lives in his darkness. Darkness is a place we can stay awhile. We don’t need to make light of our troubles and those who are troubled around us. Too often we are afraid to get involved and keep the other at arm’s length, or walk by on the other side. But the glory that grows in darkness encourages our hearts, not making light of their troubles, but being a very present help. 

Don’t rush the end of Christmas. Christmas is only just beginning, here in this night. There are twelve days of Christmas. The day we are just about to enter is Day ONE. We have plenty of time to dwell on the Christ child, to let his authority grow and glow in our lives. We have time to speak with darkness, our old friend, while the glory of the Lord shines all around.

Egged on by Mary and Elizabeth, here I go again

David HerbertLeave a comment

Here I go again, egged on by Elizabeth, Mary and Micah – a reflection for Advent 4C. I don’t seem able to help myself. I can’t stop preaching that small is so beautiful, thanks to God who raises the lowly, graces the dis-graced and scatters the proud. Maybe it’s because I’ve been helping small churches this year.

Jump for Joy by Corby Eisbacher reproduced with permission

In these Sundays of Advent we come face to face with the faith of Israel. It is not the faith of all Israel. If everyone agreed in their faith Jesus would not have had to face such opposition. The faith we come face to face with in Advent is the faith that has been passed down the generations in our scriptures, and lived out by so many. The faith of Israel is about what we expect and what we live for.

It’s a faith which celebrates God’s opposition to the proud and Gods’ favour for those who are lowly, humble and poor in spirit.

So we have today’s readings, from the prophet Micah (5:2-5a) and Luke (1:39-55).

But first, a diversion. 

When the wise men went looking for the one born king of the Jews they stupidly went about it the wrong way. They went looking in Jerusalem. They did not know the rule of the kingdom of God that the first come last and the last come first. The capital wouldn’t cradle the Messiah. In fact, the capital did nothing other than scoff and plot against the one born king of the Jews. Their satnav took them to Jerusalem, nine miles wide of the mark, the cross on the map where Jesus was born.

It was the chief priests and scribes that directed Herod’s attention to Bethlehem as the place where the ruler to shepherd Israel would be born. It was Herod who sent the wise men to Bethlehem to search for the child.

That’s probably the way most of us would go. You could be excused for expecting to find what you’re looking for in the capital, the seat of power.

But the faith of Israel knows different, Micah expresses that prophetic faith, implicitly warning us not to look for leadership in the usual places but to expect the one to rule in Israel to come from one of the little clans of Judah, one of the little clans of Jews, even from Bethlehem of Ephrathah.

Ephrathah is the old name for Bethlehem. It means fruitfulness and Bethlehem means the house of bread. It was the place of fruitfulness that Micah directs us to – not to Jerusalem. The thing about fruitfulness is its abundance but the abundance is the fruit of tiny seed, scattered by the fall and the wind and pollinated by the humble bee. 

The faith of Israel is found in the tiny, the lowly and the humble. This is the faith that follows the rule of the kingdom of God.

We know where Jesus was born, but we don’t know where John was. All we know is that Mary set out to a “judean town in the hill country”, to Zechariah’s house, to greet her cousin Elizabeth. Luke doesn’t tell us the town’s name, but it sounds like it was a place off the beaten track and follows the rule that the kingdom of God is hidden in small places, in the smallest of clans and in the most barren of landscapes.

It is in these places that God grows a kingdom. From the smallest of clans, from the dust of the earth, from the least and the last God works wonders. This is the faith of Israel. This is the faith of Israel which even now leaves many Jews horrified by what is being done in the name of Israel as it uses its military might. Those Jews who are horrified need our prayers as they protest and resist what is going on. The faith in Israel they see in Netanyahu is not the faith of Israel they treasure in their scripture.

The faith in Israel that has stood the test of time is, in the words of the epistle of James (4:6) that God scatters the proud, but gives grace to the humble.

Elizabeth and Mary come together in our gospel reading. There aren’t many readings where we listen to women talking together. Together they represent the truth that God gives grace to the humble. It is written loud and clear in their body language. Their joy is undeniable.

Luke describes how both Zechariah and Elizabeth were both “getting on in years” (1:7) and that theirs was a childless marriage. In those days that was the woman’s fault and that explains the “disgrace” she felt among her people even though she had lived a blameless life. Now with the promise of a son Elizabeth knows God’s favour for the dis-graced. In her pregnant body God’s favour for the dis-graced, humiliated and humble is told yet again. Elizabeth looks at her body, feels her baby and says, “this is what the Lord has done for me when he looked favourably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” (1:25).

Then Luke has us look at Mary’s body through the eyes of Elizabeth and we hear her praise. It comes from the heart of Israel’s songbook about how her soul magnifies the Lord. Mary calls herself a lowly woman. That was no mere figure of speech. Her lowliness wasn’t her mental attitude. It was  that she truly was a poor woman. She occupied a place of poverty and powerlessness in her society. She rejoices in the favour God has shown to her, the great things he had done for her, the way he lifts up the lowly and fills the hungry with good things, while all the time opposing the proud and powerful, scattering the proud and bringing down the powerful from their thrones.

This was the faith of Israel that Mary was repeating. This was the song Jesus heard when he was growing up: Mary magnifying the Lord, praising God for his favour for the lowly.

This is the faith of Israel. This is the faith of Jesus that we hear time and again in his preaching. This is the faith we follow, not taking the foolish way of the wise men to the powerhouses, but feeling our way to find God’s favour in the insignificant, humiliated, disgraced, lowly, poor and powerless.

Inasmuch as he did for Mary and Elizabeth he does for all his people. He lifts up the lowly. He gives grace to the disgraced, scattering the arrogant and proud and the disgraceful.

This is the faith of Israel. This is the faith of Mary and Elizabeth. This is the faith of Jesus. This is our faith, the faith of the church, though sometimes you’d hardly know it infected as we are with the imperial spirit which wants to see us bigger than we are. God grows a kingdom and works wonders from the smallest of clans, from the dust of the earth, from the least. That is the reason the lowly and humble rejoice and the proud and arrogant just scoff.

Note: The artwork is by Corby Eisbacher and reproduced with her permission. Prints are available from her www.artbycorby.etsy.com

The readings:

Micah 5:2-5a
But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah, who are one of the little clans of Judah, from you shall come forth for me one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days. Therefore he shall give them up until the time when she who is in labor has brought forth; then the rest of his kindred shall return to the people of Israel. And he shall stand and feed his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall live secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth; and he shall be the one of peace. If the Assyrians come into our land and tread upon our soil, we will raise against them seven shepherds and eight installed as rulers.

Luke 1:39-55
39In those days Mary set out and went with haste to a Judean town in the hill country, 40where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth. 41When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the child leaped in her womb. And Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit 42and exclaimed with a loud cry, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. 43And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me? 44For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy. 45And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” 46And Mary said, “My soul magnifies the Lord, 47and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 48for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; 49for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. 50His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. 51He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. 52He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; 53he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. 54He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, 55according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”

What should we do? Everybody’s asking according to Luke

David HerbertLeave a comment

This sermon is for the 3rd Sunday in Advent (C) prompted by a question everyone seems to be asking in Luke. The question being what should we do? It’s prepared for two small churches I’m helping out in a vacancy. The gospel reading is Luke 3:7-18 (the text is at the end of the post).
December 15th 2024

What should we do? That question keeps cropping up.

Three times we hear that question in today’s reading. Luke pictures three audiences of John the Baptist. There’s the “the crowds”, there’s the “tax collectors” and there’s “the soldiers”. Each of those audiences ask the same question. “What should we do?”

Before being specific John had already told them to bear fruits worthy of repentance while also saying they couldn’t take their place in God’s kingdom for granted just because they had Abraham as their ancestor. They needed to repent.

“What should we do?” It’s a question which keeps cropping up in Luke/Acts. As well as the crowd, the tax collectors and the soldiers featured in today’s gospel, it’s a question asked by:

  • A lawyer asking “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25)
  • A rich man worrying about his abundant crops, “what should I do, for I have no place to store my crops?” (Luke 12:17)
  • An unscrupulous agent  getting sacked: “what will I do, now that my master is taking the position from me?” (Luke 16:3)
  • A rich ruler asking Jesus “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 18:18)
  • The owner of the vineyard asks “what shall I do?” (Luke 20:13)
  • The Jews in Jerusalem for Pentecost asking the disciples “what shall we do?” (Acts 2:37)
  • A jailer asking Paul and Silas (what must I do to be saved?” (Acts 16:30)
  • Saul (aka Paul) asking Jesus “What am I to do Lord” (Acts 22:10)

I list these examples to highlight how important this question is to the people of God. The same question asked time and again through Luke/Acts: “What should I do?” And every time the answer comes back that they have to do things differently, and radically so. 

Significantly the question crops up at the beginning of both volumes of Luke’s work. It’s there in today’s gospel, and it’s there at the beginning of Acts. John the Baptist answers the question in the gospel. Peter answers the question in Acts.

John’s answer is that they should bear fruits worthy of repentance. Peter’s answer is that they should be baptised, and that day, 3,000 were, and they devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship. Luke comments: “all who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” In other words, here were people bearing fruits worthy of repentance.

I’m sure that Luke wanted this question to hang over all his readers. Why else would he keep repeating it? What should we do?

What should we do to count in the kingdom of God where the rule is to love God wholeheartedly, to love our neighbour as ourselves (whether we are like them or not) and to realise that those who come last in the ways of the world, and those who are counted least come first, and those usually first, come last?

Repentance means that we make a turn in our lives, that we turn ourselves round from self-ishness, self-satisfaction, self-absorption and self indulgence so that we see God and our neighbours face to face. Repentance means turning back, re-turning to where we started – loved by God from the beginning. Repentance means we change our ways and our minds with the result that we will do things very differently and see one another very differently.

I was saying last week that we might have focused so much on our forgiveness that we don’t see anything wrong with us. We might feel that we have done little wrong. But there are those we’ve wronged, those we’ve hurt, those we’ve taken advantage of, those we’ve demeaned and those we’ve neglected – and those who are frightened of us. Yes, the question is for us too. What are we to do?

I’ve looked at the three groups of people featured in today’s gospel. They have something in common. They are all potentially menacing, dangerous and harmful. The soldiers were obviously in a position where they could extort money by threats, could take backhanders and could blackmail people – and many probably did. Woe betide their vulnerable victims. John tells them to be satisfied with their wages and not to extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation.

The tax-collectors were obviously in a position where they could collect more in tax and make money for themselves at the expense of people who were reduced to poverty by the excessive triple tax demands of empire, state and temple. Woe betide you if you were on the wrong side of the tax-collector. Remember Zacchaeus. He admitted to Jesus that he’d wronged people – and in penitence offered to repay what he’d wrongly taken four times over. John tells the tax-collectors to collect no more than is their due.

Then there’s the crowd. How menacing is the crowd. How quickly can a crowd turn nasty by a single word, or a rumour? How toxic can groupthink be – how fearful it can be – and how demeaning and controlling the supposed crowd can be. You know when you’re told “everyone is saying”, “everyone thinks”, “everyone knows” that the virtual crowd has your back against the wall. Even when Christians say “Christians believe in x, y or z” when they know not all Christians do – that is crowd behaviour designed to intimidate and control others into conformity.

The crowd is the place to hide in. The crowd is what we follow so often. The crowd is what condemned Jesus – one day praising him and the next cursing him. The way John tells them to change is to be kind and generous: “whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise”.

So, what should we do? What does repentance mean for us? It means we have to keep changing, changing our minds, our attitudes and our behaviours. And there is no place better to start than with our gospel reading.

We’ve noted how dangerous and harmful those three groups are – and why. The crowd, the tax-collectors, the soldiers were all people that those who come first in the kingdom of God – the last and the least – the most vulnerable are the most likely to be a major cause of their suffering. In other words, they were their enemies.

But watch what Luke does with them in the telling of his gospel. He shows that they’re not written off. He shows that they are capable of repentance. He shows them redeemed. They (at least some of them) come to be saved and become “true children of Abraham”. 

Here is one of the “enemy”.

Several soldiers feature in Luke’s writing. There was the centurion who asked Jesus for help whose faith, Jesus said, was like the faith he’d ever seen in Israel. It was one of the centurions at the crucifixion who stood out from the crowd  who praised God for Jesus believing “certainly this man was innocent.” (23:47) And right at the end of Luke’s work it was a soldier who stood up against his fellow soldiers to spare Paul’s life after their ship had run aground off the shores of Malta. (Acts 27:42, 43).

Here are some of the enemy.

Luke can even demonstrate the repentance of the crowd, those thousands who heard the word from Peter at Pentecost. They repented and produced fruits worthy of repentance. They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship. They were united and held everything in common. They would sell their possessions and goods and share the proceeds as any had need.

Here was a crowd to love. And Luke comments that they had “the goodwill of all the people”. The gospel of Luke is so inclusive. There is good news especially for our enemies. 

For that very reason we need to change the way we see our enemies.

What shall we do?

Here’s something we can do.
Those who can harm us,
those who can exploit us,
do not condemn them
with our fearful judgement
(dangerous though those enemies are).

Instead, leave a window open
for the word of God
which from the beginning
spreads the table
even with my enemies present
so making all things possible.

Yes, we’ve been drilled
to hate our enemies,
but don’t let that fool us
or crowd our minds
so we can’t see
the possibility of change.

The word made flesh
suffered all his enemies
could throw at him.
Every stone became a prayer
as the word of God

came near for us to hear
that word “Repent” and change.
It’s our turn to turn Jesus’ way.
That’s what we can do this day
love the enemies that come our way
till some turn the kingdom way, the only way
to save ourselves from ourselves.

Luke 3.7-18
7   John said to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, ‘You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?
8  Bear fruits worthy of repentance. Do not begin to say to yourselves, “We have Abraham as our ancestor”; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children to Abraham.
9  Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.’
10   And the crowds asked him, ‘What then should we do?’
11  In reply he said to them, ‘Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.’
12  Even tax-collectors came to be baptized, and they asked him, ‘Teacher, what should we do?’
13  He said to them, ‘Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.’
14  Soldiers also asked him, ‘And we, what should we do?’ He said to them, ‘Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusation, and be satisfied with your wages.’
15   As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah,
16  John answered all of them by saying, ‘I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.
17  His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’
18   So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.

Facing the refiner’s fire – a sermon for Advent 2c

David HerbertLeave a comment

The readings for this Sunday included Malachi 3:1-4 and Luke 3:1-6. Judgement hasn’t featured much in my preaching. Here I try to make amends and begin to understand why.

December 8th 2024

Facing the refiner’s fire – photo by Amancay Blank

The context of our readings is everything.

First we have Malachi. In our three year lectionary cycle we only read three times from Malachi. It is the last book of our Old Testament. Today’s reading is from the penultimate chapter. We don’t know who Malachi is but we do know that the word Malachi means my messenger.

When we finish reading Malachi and turn the page in our Bibles we find that we are in the New Testament, into the gospels and the story of “my messenger”, namely John the Baptist. Luke gives the context in historical detail. “It was the 15th year of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee …” It was at that time when the country was occupied and governed by Rome and, precisely that time, when things were so bad, that the word of God came to John … in the wilderness, beyond the pale, outside, in the uninhabited margin. It was then and it was there that the word of God came to John and John becomes malachi, “my messenger”

That is so dramatic isn’t it, turning from one page to another, from one testament to another, from the promise of a messenger to the delivery of the messenger in just a word from God? Like most times it was the worst of times but the worst times are the best times for hearing the word of God.

As Charles Dickens describes the times in Tale of Two Cities, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

Or, as as we read in the verses immediately following our reading from Malachi, a time of sorcerers, adulterers, of people who swear falsely, of people who oppress hired workers in their wages, who oppress widows and orphans and who thrust aside those who are aliens and refugees. In other words, times just like ours. God promises judgement against them, the sorcerers, the cheats, the liars, the oppressors, the callous and indifferent. And promises judgement in favour of their victims. 

Judgement is very much a theme of our readings through the season of Advent. It makes it a season of judgement and the coming of judgement. I suspect that this is something that has been downplayed in our minds. By and large I suppose we have come out on the right side of history. We live in a nation which can afford to protect itself. We have an economy more advanced than most. We are more prosperous even though that prosperity may have been the result of companies being able to exploit their power to mine resources which properly belong to the earth or to others. We can afford to defend ourselves. We can pay the insurance.

It is those on the wrong side of history who long for judgement, those who suffer in the system, those who are oppressed who need the judgement to set them free. It is the exploited, abused and hurt people who long for their day in court.

We have so downplayed the idea of judgement that we have stylised it. We have kicked the can down the road. It’s a second coming, on a date to be confirmed, and we can’t believe that either, can we?

It was an age like this when paths are crooked and the ways of the world are anything but smooth and straightforward that the word of God came to John in the wilderness. It is in the turn of a page from the intention of “sending my messenger” to the actual arrival of the messenger, a real malachi, “my messenger” whose every word was the word of God.

His place is the wilderness – like no other place, and so a judgement against those places and the crooked ways of the town and city. His appearance is like no other – no dedicated follower of fashion. He wore coarse camel hair wrapped in a belt. He ate locusts and wild honey. He is wild and in that wild-er-ness the judgement of God drew near.

Luke pictures crowds of people flocking to John to be baptised by him, all of them asking “what shall we do?” The tax collectors came asking “what should we do?”. The soldiers came asking “what should we do?” What should we do? And John told them what they should do. “Share what you’ve got”, “don’t rob or cheat” and don’t do anything that is going to force others into crooked ways. This was the word of God that came to John in the wilderness. What they should do is the judgement of God.

Crooked ways of living make the victims of crooks walk crooked ways, often leaving people with no choice other than the devious path and the ways of subterfuge, cunning and craftiness to survive the traps set for them. The crooked path, from pillar to post is not the easy road. When crooks hear the judgement of God, the message of the prophets, and change, their ways become straightforward – and that smooths the road for their victims.

It is at times like these that when our own paths are crooked and the ways of the world are anything but smooth that the word of God comes to us. We might have taken the idea of judgement lightly. We might feel that we have done little wrong. We all think that don’t we? That is part of our natural self defence. We might have focused far too much on “forgiveness” and forgotten the importance of judgement. But what of those we’ve wronged, those we’ve hurt, those we’ve taken advantage of, those we’ve demeaned and those we’ve neglected? What about those who have suffered because of us, because of a harsh word or because of our harsh judgement of them? What about those who have had to stay in the closet? What about those who can’t walk straight, or hold their heads high because of our words, attitudes and behaviours?

THEY need US to come to God’s messenger. They need us to ask that same question, “what must we do”, “what must we do to change?” They need us to hear the judgement of God. They need us to take the judgement of God to heart so that they will not be oppressed, belittled or shamed because of us.

Malachi describes the messenger in terms of a “refiner’s fire” or like “fuller’s soap”. Goldsmiths and silversmiths melt their precious metal in a crucible of fire to refine the silver and gold. Once a metal is melted down the dross rises to the top and then removed before it cools.

Fuller’s soap is the soap used by the fuller when cleaning the wool of the sheep. Sheared wool is never clean having got tangled and dirty while growing on the sheep. The fuller’s soap would bleach the wool and kill the bacteria. So, a very fitting image for us, “all we like sheep have gone astray” (Isaiah 53:6)

That is how judgement is pictured by Malachi in the last pages of the Old Testament, like a refiner’s fire, like fuller’s soap, showing that the judgement of God is never about punishment or condemnation, but always about change, cleansing and refinement. It shows the great love of God for us to believe that we can be refined to something precious – worth our weight in gold, precious as silver in the kingdom of God.

And this is how John the Baptist practised – as the messenger of God, with words of judgement, for times such as these. “He proclaimed a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” – a baptism which shows our hearts and minds changed and turned to Christ so that we become a blessing to those around us rather than a curse.