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.

Christ the King

David HerbertLeave a comment

A sermon for the last Sunday of the year for two small congregations in rural Warwickshire

November 24th 2024

This is the last Sunday of the liturgical year. Next Sunday, Advent Sunday, begins a new liturgical year with a new cycle of readings. The whole lectionary cycle comes to this – the conclusion of all the readings, all the prayer of the year, all the praise we have sung, all we have learned – it all leads us to the conclusion that Jesus Christ is Lord and King. So today is known as Christ the King Sunday. 

Our worship is structured the same each week. What changes are the readings appointed for each week. Those readings inspire us to sing different praises each week. Those readings affect the way we pray each week and those readings inspire different preaching for each week. They give us our seasons: seasons of Christmas, Epiphany, Lent and Easter. They give us “Ordinary Time” and they give us this time which is slowly being recognised as “Kingdom time”. 

I don’t know how the readings have been chosen but the pattern of readings has become so established that we can say that the lectionary we use is the same as is used throughout the Church of England and within the other denominations including the Roman Catholics across the world with very little variation and few exceptions. We can be confident that the readings we’re taking to heart today are the same ones worshippers in Coventry Cathedral, at Our Lady & St Wulstan Church in Southam, in the churches in the Netherlands, in Jerusalem, Hong Kong, Africa etc. Joe Biden, King Charles, Archbishop Justin, will all be engaging with the same texts alongside worshippers in Ukraine and Russia. And all of us are coming to the same conclusion today – that Jesus Christ is Lord. 

The lectionary follows a three year pattern. The years are A, B and C. Each year focuses on a particular gospel. Today is the last Sunday of year B when the focus has been on Mark’s gospel. Next year (next Sunday) we will turn to Luke’s gospel, and the following year we’ll be with Matthew again. Readings from John’s gospel are interspersed throughout the three year cycle. 

The readings account for our faith. They describe our faith journeys and our life journeys, from beginning to end, from alpha to omega, from the germ of faith, from being strangers to becoming friends – all the way to being his beloved followers, choosing the way to live for the kingdom of God, letting the way of Jesus be the governance for our lives. We’ve turned to Christ. The liturgical year accounts for how we got to that point and helps us to get to that point of acknowledging that the king of love my shepherd is. 

The king of love is not like any other king. We have a king –  Charles. We can’t help having him as king. Without him there would be no United Kingdom. The government is his. Keir Starmer is his Prime Minister. He’s king for all of us whether we like it or not. We pray that the king of love will be his love so that he may be a king of love himself.  We have history to show us the dreadful consequences of the rule of those who aren’t ruled by love.

The king of love never forces his rule on us, and neither does he force his rules on us. We can choose to follow them or not.  

We can choose him, or choose the rule of others. And when we do choose him we choose a rule unlike the rule of any other kingdom. The rule of the kingdom is love which puts the last first, which finds the lost, which treasures the least and smallest and promotes them as the very model of discipleship and faith. The entry requirement is that we have to change and become like little children to enter the kingdom of God. Jesus pictures entry the size of a needle and only the smallest get through. 

These are the rules we discover in our reading of scripture day by day, Sunday by Sunday – making new discoveries all the time about the ways of the kingdom of God and the way of the king of love. He’s the king who insists on service, not lordship. He’s not spared suffering – in fact he embraces suffering for our sake. He goes to the heart of the suffering of his people, taking on their wounds, persecution, oppression and pain, showing his way through them – the way which refuses the use of the sword, which endlessly forgives, which subjects enemies to his love. 

This is the way that took Jesus to Jerusalem – on a donkey, not a motorcade. This is the way that ultimately sees Jesus’s throne on the cross, just like other criminals and enemies of state, pilloried and crucified. And there on the cross, reigning supreme to the last divine breath, and suffering agony and torture, he is ironically crowned, “KING OF THE JEWS” 

This is the way through it all. This is the way of the king of love who shepherds us through the valleys of our lives when death overshadows us. This is the way of the king of love “whose goodness faileth never”. 

This is the rule we follow, the way we follow through our lives when we follow the way of Christ the King, when we follow Jesus as his disciples. 

So we come to the end of the year full of praise for Jesus and prepared for committing ourselves afresh to live for the kingdom of God and all its ways of love, on earth as in heaven. 

In this week’s newsletter Margaret has drawn our attention to the collect from a time before this Sunday was ever called Christ the King Sunday. It’s the collect which gave this Sunday the name “Stir up Sunday”, the cue to start stirring our Christmas puddings. It would be a strange thing if our year’s work culminated in the first stirrings of a pudding! It’s not about stirring our puddings, but stirring our wills to live for the kingdom of God with Christ our king. “Stir up, we beseech thee, O Lord, the wills of thy faithful people”

Let’s sing. 

The folly that brings the house down

David HerbertLeave a comment

This is a reflection for Safeguarding Sunday for two rural Warwickshire churches where there is a clergy vacancy. The readings for the day, the 2nd Sunday before Advent, Daniel 12:1-3 and Mark 13:1-8

‘What large stones and what large buildings!”

You can almost hear the disciple’s jaw dropping at the sight of the wonderful temple building. If he’d had a camera on him he’d have taken a photo. He might have even taken a selfie and posted it on his insta account!

WOW

That was the popular view – to be amazed at the structure of the temple and the institutions of Jerusalem.

But Jesus’s response is very different. He’d been inside the temple and seen for himself. In fact, he’d only just been in the temple – the verses of today’s gospel come immediately after he’d watched the widow give her last pennies into the treasury inside the temple and it made him see the temple and its structures differently.

We normally use that passage to encourage generous giving. Give like that widow. Instead of it being an example of generous giving it really is an example of exploitative abuse by a hypocritical institution.

Hear what Jesus said: “Beware of the scribes who like to walk around in long robes, and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honour at banquets! They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.” (Mark 12:38-40)

He’d seen it for himself – all those large stones and imposing buildings so loved by pilgrims and tourists – they were built off the backs of vulnerable widows. Religion built up with injustice can’t stand – not one stone on top of another.

Mark’s gospel was most likely written in AD69, during the Jewish revolt against Rome. In the background would have been recruiting agents trying to enlist people for the war effort. The revolt was to regain sovereignty and freedom from Rome. 

To parody today’s political parlance it was “to take back control” and “make Israel great again”. The aim was to restore their fortunes – but if things were restored there would still be the scribes being hypocritical and abusing the widows. The old structures would still be in place.

Everything had to come down – as it did the year after Mark wrote his gospel, after Titus was dispatched by Rome to put an end to the rebellion. After five months of pitched battles Jerusalem lay destroyed with the temple burned to the ground – not one stone standing on another.

Jesus had seen it coming. He was concerned for his followers. He knew it would be the end of the world for most people to see their city ruined and their temple destroyed. Their whole identity was so wrapped up in Jerusalem and the temple. He told them not to be alarmed when these things happen, when war comes, when earthquakes shake us or when famine strikes, because none of these things are the end. They’re not the end, they are “but the beginning of the birth pangs” if we allow them to be. 

All sorts of things can be the end for us. Some of us may have had moments in our lives which we thought might be the end – grief, suffering, depression, disappointments which we thought we would not have survived. But with God on our side, at our side, as midwife, as Father, Son and Holy Spirit we have found faith restored, hope renewed. We’ve made that journey to hell and back, living through what we thought would be the end of us.

What Jesus is trying to do is help his followers see through all the rumours of disaster (destruction of temple, war, famine earthquake etc) to the promise of beginning again with the power which makes rebuilding possible in a world which seems to be ending and where everything seems broken.

Today is Safeguarding Sunday. This is timely in a week where the structures of the Church of England – with all their fine stones and large buildings have been shown to be woefully inadequate for safeguarding people against those wolves who come among us in sheep’s clothing in search of prey. The regard and admiration people may have had for the Church of England is in tatters because of the failures in protection and reporting.

The scandal that prompted the resignation of the Archbishop this week, and which is likely to trigger the resignation and sacking of others is a scandal of the elite. John Smyth was an elite judge in an elite movement to recruit elite boys from elite public schools to train them for elite leadership in the church which they would have kept elitist. 

One of the most telling phrases about Archbishop Justin’s part in all of this has come from a friend in a Facebook post. He thinks “the problems that Archbishop Justin had in his ministry really all stem from the fact that as a disciple of Christ he found it too difficult to distance himself sufficiently from the establishment in which he was born and raised.  We all struggle to outgrow the environments that shaped us.  Unfortunately, in his case, it would appear he could never leave behind a fundamental respect for temporal power.”

It’s all very sad – some of you may have known Justin and benefitted from the gifts of his ministry when he was in Southam from 1995 to 2002. He has asked for prayer for himself and his wife Caroline.

Too often we see institutions intent on protecting their reputations at the expense of those who have become suffering victims within them. We saw that in the Post Office scandal

Too often we protect our own personal reputations in spite of the suffering caused by our harm and neglect. But when we do we get in the way of God whose whole mission is to protect and redeem the victims of abuse and injustice. We mustn’t be afraid of upsetting the status quo, or damaging reputations or even the dismantling of whole structures. Sometimes buildings need to be toppled from the top down so that there can be regime change.

So much in the church is imposing – including the stonework. But so much of what is imposing is also intimidating. Many have suffered in silence not daring to raise their voice. Others have known that it would be a waste of time reporting their concerns. The culture of entitlement, protectionism and deference needs to be dismantled wherever it is found. That is difficult for anyone raised within the culture of establishment.

This is what the call to discipleship is – to come away and accept a regime change by turning to Christ and accepting the regime of God. The toppling of the stones so admired for generations is nothing to be alarmed by. It’s not the end. It’s the beginning.

Sometimes things need to end for God’s work to begin. Sometimes things need to end, in the words of Daniel, leaving  “some to shame and everlasting contempt”, so that God’s work of safeguarding his creation can begin, again, in the words of Daniel, when “those who are wise [in the way of God’s kingdom] shall shine like the brightness of the sky and those who lead many to righteousness will be the real stars, for ever and ever.

In this context we pray. For this purpose we work and pray, as in this prayer for Safeguarding Sunday:

Dear God,
help us to be a church that
loves, welcomes, protects.
Listens, learns, serves.
Repents, restores, transforms.
Values, cares, believes.
God of Justice and compassion, hear our prayer.
Help us, heal us, guide us, we pray.
In Jesus name. Amen. 

November 17th 2024

Daniel 12.1-3
12  ‘At that time Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book.
2  Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.
 3  Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars for ever and ever.

Mark 13.1-8
1  As he came out of the temple, one of his disciples said to him, ‘Look, Teacher, what large stones and what large buildings!’
2  Then Jesus asked him, ‘Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.’
3   When he was sitting on the Mount of Olives opposite the temple, Peter, James, John, and Andrew asked him privately,
4  ‘Tell us, when will this be, and what will be the sign that all these things are about to be accomplished?’
5  Then Jesus began to say to them, ‘Beware that no one leads you astray.
6  Many will come in my name and say, “I am he!” and they will lead many astray.
7  When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come.
8  For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs.

The Cruel Sea is on its way out – a reflection for All Saints Sunday

David Herbert1 Comment

All Saints Sunday

Some made heavy weather through this sermon for All Saints Sunday in spite of the very well read scripture for the day – Revelation 21:1-6a. (My fault.) It was the detail in the text of the sea being no more which caught my eye and triggered my imagination. It’s not often we preach from Revelation. It’s the last word in our scripture, the last book that graphically seems to sum up the ways in which the Bible as a whole reveals God in the troubles of our lives.

All Saints Sunday – November 3rd 2024

Every grandparent of young children knows the Disney film Moana – probably word for word. Moana is the daughter of the village chief on a remote island where no one goes beyond the reef because of the dangers of the wider sea.

The wider sea is a place of danger. It’s not a place for poor islanders if they want to stay safe. Their boats were for fishing in the shallow seas. The seas are dangerous particularly for those who are poor, as we have been seeing in the attempted channel crossings that desperate people are making. The seas swallow the poor who dare to go beyond the reef.

It’s only the empires of the world that have conquered the seas with their vast ships and wealth of engineering. Rule Britannia and all that. 

Rule, Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves!
Britons never, never, never will be slaves.

Rule Britannia was written in 1740 just at the time when the British empire did rule the waves – as it did for two centuries until the First World War. While it may be true that empires bring some benefit, so often the ships of empire only brought trouble, bringing occupation and taking land, minerals and people for empires own purpose.

This is how Revelation sees the sea. Revelation is the last book of our scriptures. It wraps it all up and wraps it all up so graphically. It’s like a graphic novel. 

Revelation 21.1-6a
21  Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.
2  And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.
3  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them;
4   he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.
5   And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’ Also he said, ‘Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.’
6  Then he said to me, ‘It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

John sees a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.

In the graphics of his revelation, John sees “the beast” rising out of the sea with ten horns and seven heads bearing blasphemous names. The beast comes from the darkness and the vastness of the sea. The beast had authority over every tribe and people and language and nation. In other words it was “empire”. The beast/empire made war on everyone who threatened its power, including trying to conquer the saints. All the suffering of the first heaven and the first earth comes from the beastliness of what comes out of the seas – those who rule the waves cause poverty, pain and tears “for the peoples of the world”. This is John’s revelation – what God revealed to John.

John himself was a victim of the beast of the sea. In his introduction, in chapter 1, he tells us that he is a victim of the persecution of Christians and that he was on an island called Patmos “because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus”. 

Pliny and Tacitus tell us that prophecy, particularly prophecy with political implications, was seen as a threat by the Roman empire. Those guilty of such prophecy were deported. So, here is John, having been deported across the sea of empire to an island surrounded by cruel sea, living in exile. More graphically, empire swallowed John up and spewed him on an island – cast away.

Just as empire was doing its worst for John, those earliest Christians and other peoples of the world John has this revelation of the end of empire – the ending of the first earth ruled by empire. He sees a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more, because evil empire is no more.  He sees the end of the old rules and the beginning of a new rule in the form of the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, and he heard a loud voice coming from the throne of the new rule saying the “home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.”

The point about empire and the sea underlines the political context of this revelation of God’s work. We still live in a political context which causes untold suffering. It is within that political context that God lives, moves and has his being. This is how God has revealed himself, time and time again, ever present in the troubles of the peoples of the world. This is the revelation that is treasured in our scriptures in book after book.

He comes to us. The Lord is here. His Spirit is with us – in the here and now, helping us through times of trial, strengthening our fight against injustices, making saints out of sinners. “See” said the one seated on the throne so different from those of worldly empires to John. “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them.”  

This is down to earth. It’s not pie in the sky when we die, as when we say “she’s gone to be with Jesus”. No. The point of God’s revelation is that he is with us now. The Lord is here. His Spirit is with us.

Down to earth, not pie in the sky.  God makes his dwelling with us. He stands at the door and knocks – and waits, and waits till we answer his call – and all is revealed as soon as we let our hearts, minds, hands and eyes be opened.

It’s in our lives here and now that God reveals himself – as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. As father, making good things of earth, fashioning us for now, answering our prayer. In Jesus proving himself down to earth. As Holy Spirit breathing new life into us, inspiring us, encouraging us, strengthening us here and now.

Then the one seated on the throne made John see again. “See, I am making all things new.” This is heavenly Repair Shop stuff – making new the stuff of our lives. This brings hope here and now. This is the age we are living in – (the same as John’s, the same as everyone’s). We see so much that is broken – around us, and within us. But it is really the beginning of the end with God making all things new. Here’s the alpha, the beginning that leads to the end, the omega when there will be no darkness for shame to hide in.

This is how the book of Revelation came down to us. The one enthroned in love said to John, “Write this. Write this for these words are trustworthy and true” These words being “the home of God is with mortals” (those who will die), and “I am making all things new”.

This is how we have received the revelation of the love of God. Those words are trustworthy and true. We need to guard them with our lives and never let our Godtalk be pie in the sky when we die, but always the love from above, down to earth, here and now. Insist the Lord is here and his Spirit is with us, making all things new as we battle the beast.

We began our worship by remembering all the saints using this list circulated by Sheffield Manor Parish on their Facebook page. They credit Nel Shallow and Pete Phillips for the words.

We remember Lord today all Your saints
the brave and bold
the faithful and fearless
the pursued and persecuted
the imprisoned
the impoverished
the murdered
the martyred
the grace-full and generous
the poets and the prophets
the wonderers and the wise
the healers and the helpers
the preachers
the paupers
the cloistered
the commoners
the foolish and floundering
the unready and unsteady
the careless and the cautious
the following
the hopeless
the hopeful
the faithless yet forgiven
the faithful yet flawed
the wandering and wayward
the lost and longing
We remember today Lord all Your saints
called and chosen
beloved and beheld
holy and human
Amen

For crying out loud, what do you want me to do for you?

David Herbert1 Comment

A sermon for the Last Sunday after Trinity (Year B) encouraging us to join Bartimaeus in his loud prayer that helps him see. The readings for the Last Sunday after Trinity (B) are Jeremiah 31:7-9 and Mark 10:46-end.

October 27th 2024

Here’s the question. “What do you want me to do for you?” This is the question Jesus asked Bartimaeus. It’s exactly the same question he asked the two disciples who approached him in last week’s gospel. The sons of Zebedee, James and John, came forward to Jesus, saying: “we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you”, to which Jesus replied: “What is it you want me to do for you?”

It’s a question any helper might ask. “What is it you want me to do for you?” It might well be a question you imagine Jesus asking you. As you settle down in prayer you might imagine Jesus asking you, “What do you want me to do for you?” Our prayer may specifically answer that question as we lay open the heart of our concerns to God.

Not that we expect God to do all we ask. Remember James and John. They wanted Jesus to do for them wherever they asked, but what they asked for was so wide of the mark that there was no way Jesus was going to do it for them. They asked to sit either side of Jesus in his glory – there was no way Jesus was going to save the seats for them. As it turned out the gospel shows us in the crucifixion scene that those to the left and right of Jesus “in his glory” are those disgraced by society, those shamed and ashamed – all three of them convicted criminals.

But sometimes our prayers are answered. Sometimes what we ask to be done is done, as in the case of Bartimaeus. 

The beginning of his prayer is shouted out and is heard above the noise of the crowd. Often our prayer is a cry, and sometimes we cry out loud, as Bartimaeus does here: ‘Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!’ He goes against the crowd who mercilessly tried to shut him up. But he carried on shouting, ‘Son of David, have mercy on me!’ Jesus heard his prayer. He couldn’t help hearing him: he was shouting so loud. 

Mercifully Jesus called him to him asking that question. “What do you want me to do for you?” The blind man replied, “My teacher, let me see again”. Jesus recognises the faith of the blind man in what the blind man has called him. He’s called him “Jesus”, “Son of David” and “Teacher”. According to Mark, Bartimaeus has seen in Jesus what the disciples have so far not seen. He’s the one who’s seen. It’s the disciples who are blind. When we call anyone “Teacher” we’re already trusting them to show us the way. Jesus responds to such faith, insight and trust. To the blind man he says “your faith has made you well”. Jesus had helped him see again – and Mark leaves us with this spectacle of Jesus journeying to Jerusalem with this beggar by his side. We don’t very often see the procession into Jerusalem that way, do we? But that is the way Mark paints the picture.

We can’t get away from the blind in our worship. Our other reading is also about the blind and the lame. They are what’s left of Judah after generations of suffering at the hands of the babylonian empire six centuries before Christ. Babylon invaded Judah three times that century and occupied her for 50 years. Judah was ruined. There was very little left. So much had been destroyed – Jerusalem, the temple – everything that gave them a national identity was gone. And most of the people had gone as well – killed or deported. Those who were left lived with the humiliation of being beaten. They were refugees scattered far and wide.

This scripture from Jeremiah has been treasured because of the vision Jeremiah has for these people and the words he has for them – the blind, the lame and those scattered to the four corners of the earth. These are traumatised people. They are survivors of devastating disaster. Some of you will know what it is to be traumatised by what’s happened to you. You may have lost someone or you may have suffered a life-changing injury. The news these days is full of reports of whole communities destroyed and traumatised by war in Gaza, Beirut, Lebanon. We look into their faces. There are no words. We often frame our speechlessness with those very words. “There are no words”, we say.

Traumatic shock leaves us reeling disrupting our normal mental processes because we can’t work out what is happening to us. The mind shuts down and the memory of the traumatic events become fragmented. The wounds are unspeakable. There are no words. The mind automatically shuts down feelings and turns off human responses locking violent experiences away in a form of self-protection which often means we never get to understand our pain, our loss, our grief. Trauma disrupts the trust we have – whether that is in God, in others or in the future. The future we had in mind is simply no longer there – and many traumatised people are left feeling that there is no future. “I see no future.”

This is the context for Jeremiah. He is part of a people traumatised by events. They have lost everything. There are no words. They have no vision for the future apart from their ongoing pain. But Jeremiah gives them words. They’re words given to him by God. Jeremiah shares his vision. Our reading comes from a part of the book of Jeremiah which is known as “the Book of Comfort”. God through Jeremiah is restoring their faith and renewing their hope. They have a vision for the future. Jeremiah is helping them see again.

Our readings are related. In both people are being helped to see again. That’s the one thing Bartimaeus asks of Jesus in today’s gospel. “I want to see again.” In our Old Testament reading Jeremiah helps the whole people to see themselves again, something like the people they had always been.

I suggested that you might use Jesus’ question in your prayer. Imagine Jesus asking you, “What do you want me to do for you?” After all you’ve been through, whatever that is, what will your answer be? What will you ask for?

Remember that Jesus asked that question to James and John as well as to Bartimaeus. He wasn’t interested in answering James and John’s request for status and privilege. Jesus will never answer our thirst for power, wealth or prestige. It’s no good praying over our lottery ticket. He only answers the beggar’s prayer.

Our readings are related to inspire the church to join the beggar in his prayer (not James and John in theirs).
Do we turn to Christ to help us see – to help us see differently,
to help us see ourselves differently,
to help us see our neighbours differently,
to help us see strangers differently,
to help us see our enemies differently,
to help us see the future differently,
to help us see our past differently?

Anais Nin wrote: “We don’t see things as they are, we see things as we are.” Maybe we’ve grown old. Maybe we are jaded, tired, cynical. Maybe ….

Lord Jesus, help us to see.
Help us see the way you see so that we may follow you that way.

The glory of Jesus, the bullied and the shamed standing side by side

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Sermon for Trinity 21B – Oct 20th 2024

This sermon is for the shamed, the bullied, the ostracised, the oppressed as we get to grips with our readings for today from Isaiah 53:4-end and Mark 10:35-45. I am increasingly aware that the gospel of Jesus Christ and the work of the Holy Spirit is for the shamed, bullied, ostracised and oppressed. God takes his place with them.

We may well have been bullied, shamed or ostracised.

And/or we may have been the bullies responsible for shaming and ostracising. Or we may have joined in because we were afraid that if we stood out from the crowd we, ourselves, would be bullied, shunned and ostracised.

To jog your memories, let me take you back to school. I’ll take you to my school all those years ago. It was an all boys school. Then, as now, the slightest difference was picked up and became opportunity for mockery and worse.

There was a boy we called Cheggers, even though he hated that name. We were probably 12 or 13 at the time. We’d do monkey impressions in front of him, making fun of the way his jaw was set slightly differently and the way he walked differently. Of course, I joined in. I joined in because that was the safest thing for me to do. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Cheggers. I didn’t know him – and the bullying kept it that way. How could he ever make himself known in those circumstances?

There’s a six part series on Sky Atlantic called Sweetpea featuring a young woman who was bullied and neglected. She becomes a “ghost” of her former self – always feeling invisible. People keep bumping into her, saying, “I didn’t see you”.

The bullied and ostracised are never seen for who they are. We see that in the fear-ful treatment of refugees when they’re not seen as people but as a threat. We didn’t “see” Cheggers. We only saw his difference and the opportunity for joking and banter – at his expense. We didn’t know who he was. We didn’t want to know how he felt. It didn’t matter that he probably felt awful. We didn’t know that, perhaps he was the bravest boy amongst us – brave enough to keep coming back, lining up with us to brave the taunts and humiliation again and again.

And here’s where it matters – in the scriptures we treasure, to the Jesus we follow.

In those days, my schooldays, he, Cheggers, was the one who bore our sin. Our hatred, anxiety and fear was turned on him and he suffered because of us. In the language of our reading from Isaiah, he was wounded for our transgressions. “He was oppressed” by us. “He was afflicted” by us, myself included. 

Such is the emotional and physical suffering of the scapegoat.

We usually read this passage from Isaiah with Jesus in mind. It is normally read on Good Friday when we turn our minds to the suffering servant bearing the shame and pain of crucifixion. This is how we have come to know Jesus – mocked, bruised, afflicted and even numbered as one of the transgressors, one, two, three of them in the crucifixion scene.

But what we say of Jesus from this passage we can surely say of any we’ve scapegoated that he/she/they have borne our sin – our hatred, anxiety and fear. They are oppressed and afflicted when we, like sheep, have gone astray, turning to our own way of doing things. They are wounded by our transgressions and crushed by our iniquity. 

It’s not clear who Isaiah is referring to as the scapegoat in this passage.  He might have  someone in mind, or a community used to suffering persecution (such as the Jewish people down the centuries) or any sufferer of bullying. We don’t need to narrow the scapegoat’s identity down to Jesus, though, certainly the choice of Jesus was to join the afflicted, tormented and bruised, becoming one such himself.

In the book of Acts we find this very same passage from Isaiah being read, and Luke takes us scripture readers to this particular scripture reader. (It’s Acts 8:26-40). It’s an angel who directs Philip to the reader who is on the road from Jerusalem to Gaza. He is  an official in the court of the queen of Ethiopia. So important. But he was a eunuch. Historians of the period point out that although eunuchs could be given great responsibilities they were seen as “monstrosities”, stigmatised for being morally and sexually distorted and the objects of suspicion and derision. They were seen as sexual deviants. They were a laughing stock scapegoated for no fault of their own.

So, here, on the road to Gaza, we have a man who was seen as “not a man” reading of one who was “oppressed and afflicted”, who was “wounded for our transgressions” and “crushed for our iniquities” – and an angel of the Lord, from the realm of glory, had directed one of Jesus’s disciples to help him to read, mark and inwardly digest that he was reading about himself, and that he was also reading about Jesus – and there and then, he was baptised.

God’s realm of glory is very different to the realms of glory we have in the world, where glory is measured in wealth and winning, in power and popularity – and in importance. This is the way of thinking of James and John when they come to Jesus and ask him for the best seats in the house. Their request, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.” 

The disciples are always getting it wrong according to Mark’s gospel. They’ve missed the point of Jesus and his mission. Jesus points out the ways of the world and underlines the suffering caused by the ways of the world. He points out that those we recognise as our rulers so often lord it over us, making themselves exceptions to their rule, enjoying the power they have over others – and in so many cases turning out to be tyrants, striking fear into people, upsetting their lives and causing suffering.

He said, It is not so among you: but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be your servant must be slave of all. This is not what James and John had in mind when they came to Jesus with their request to be one up on everyone else. (Nor is it what we have in mind when we choreograph our ecclesiastical processions or when we excuse the abuses of power in a culture of deference.)

No, scripture points us to another way of doing things. Glory in the kingdom of God is for those, in the words of Isaiah, afflicted, wounded and oppressed by the powers that be, just as Jesus was afflicted, wounded, mocked and shamed by those rulers of Jerusalem and Rome, the rulers of religion and empire – just as the eunuch would have been, just as whole groups of people are, just as certain ethnic groups continue to be.

Who will be on Jesus’ left, and who will be on Jesus’ right in his glory? Is it James? Is it John? Mark gives us the answer. The glory of Jesus is first witnessed by the Roman centurion, who, faced with Jesus, said “truly this man was God’s son!”. And on his left hand and on his right were neither James or John. They were nowhere to be seen. They’d deserted him. Instead, on his left and on his right were two “bandits” – together with Jesus – the three of them shamed, mocked, scorned and killed by empire and those who want the glory of being empire builders.

This, brothers and sisters, is where the gospel of Jesus Christ takes us – to the cross where one oppressed, afflicted and wounded was hung out to die – with one on his left and another on his right, neither of whom are James or John. They’re still glory seeking – they’re in hiding, saving their own skin. The glory of the kingdom is the salvation of those who bear the sins of the world – victims of shame, injustice and empire (maybe ourselves included).

Delight and service in the nature of things: more down to earth preaching for the Season of Creation

David Herbert4 Comments

September 22nd 2024

Imagine this. Whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way.

Whatever we do affects everything and everyone else. That’s what Norton Juster wrote in his children’s book The Phantom Tollbooth published in 1962. “Whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. Why, when a housefly flaps his wings, a breeze goes around the world.”

This has become known as the butterfly effect – exploring the possibility that a butterfly flapping her wing might eventually cause a tornado half way round the world and weeks later. Whatever we do affects everything and everyone else, if even in the tiniest way. The effects caused by a butterfly’s flap of a wing might be tiny in their first instant, but then grow and grow. Of course, we don’t know, but the theory underlines the importance of cause and effect AND just how interconnected everything is.

In the garden where the trees are, in the garden of connections, Eden – there we were made. We were made for this world of connections, part of this world of connections. Formed from the dust of earth it just took a breath of God to breathe life into us. Having made one he made another from the rib of the other. Made for each other they were, forever relational we are – NOT as we may think these days, made for nuclear family life, husband, wife, children living away of their private bit of land behind locked doors – disconnected. We were not made for that. We were made for the garden where we’re all connected. 

In those first days of creation gardeners were obviously hard to find. Genesis 2:5 – “there was no one to till the ground”. The one made from dust and the one made from his rib were made to be gardeners, to till the earth, to keep it, to serve it and sustain it.

Someone asked me last Sunday whether I believed the creation stories in Genesis. I absolutely do. I don’t get the sense that we are reading God’s diary entries – you know, on this day this happened, the next day this, and you’ll never guess what happened on the sixth day. No, it’s not history we are reading when we read Genesis. Some truths are more important than historical truth and scientific facts. What is most important is the deep spiritual truth that sees God in everything. I love the poetic imagination that sees God in our beginnings, that sees us made from earth alongside everything that there is, and that sees everything made in terms of love and goodness. These are the truths to treasure. They give us an everyday sense of vocation and down to earth purpose.

There was no one to till the earth till man and woman standing side by side started helping one another in the garden. 

There are two ways of looking at this gardening job. In the first creation story (Genesis 1:26-28) God said, “Let us make humankind in our image, according to our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and the birds of the air …..” This language of dominion has led us up the garden path into the frame of mind of domination – thinking it’s all for us, misleading us into a sense of entitlement and into behaviours which have exploited and abused those to whom we are supposed to be lovingly connected. As a result we see rivers choked, earth stripped bare, forests on fire, coastlands flooding, icecaps melting and the extinction of whole species.

The other way of looking at the job is in the language of “tilling the earth”. The Hebrew word translated as tilling is abad. The most common meaning of that verb is serve. Human beings were created to serve Earth – the whole world and all its connections rather than dominating creation and overruling all other species of creation.

We are in the liturgical Season of Creation. This is the fourth Sunday in the Season of Creation which began with a day of prayer for the preservation of the natural environment on September 1st and ends on the Feast of St Francis of Assisi on October 4th. It’s a relatively new liturgical development intended to turn the liturgical dial the crises we see all around us, and is the result of an initiative begun in the Orthodox Church and taken up by the World Council of Churches, the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion.

We haven’t always taken the time to celebrate creation with all our connections and patterns of nature. We haven’t always taken the time to reflect on the consequences of our actions. What is life, if full of care, we take not time, to stop and stare at the wonder of our creation, the wonder of our nature and the awesomeness of the responsibility we have for one another. What is life if we don’t bring our wonder into our worship, our remorse into our prayer? This Season of Creation gives us time for all of this, and time for us to turn our commitment to our vocation and responsibility to till the earth, to serve and sustain all that is.

When we look into nature we see an instinct to nurture. Many of us are transfixed when we see nature programmes such as Springwatch looking through cameras at the ways bird nurture their chicks. We’re bowled over by the way commitment of emperor penguins incubating their eggs for months on end. We can scarce take it in that trees communicate with each other and care for each other through their own underground broadband fibre network in their wood-wide web.

Wherever we look in nature we see love. It’s a love that makes sacrifices, a love that nurtures new life and makes new connections. It’s a love that is divine and seems to many to be the very image of God – ourselves included. Love is the heart of creation. Whatever love does affects everything and everyone, even if only in the tiniest way.

In these times of Earth’s suffering we need our times of wild swimming, of tree bathing, of country walks. We need our times with animals, our time working the land. We need the time to witness the awesomeness of nature with all of its nurture and abundance of love. Immersing ourselves in nature refreshes us. It’s good for our mental health. And nature needs to make that connection with us for her own sake. If we don’t give her the opportunity to remind us constantly of her love then she easily gets forgotten by us who have the responsibility and calling to be her servants and sustainers.

And we need something like this Season of Creation
to refresh and inspire our wonder in our human nature,
to commit ourselves to the safekeeping of the whole of creation

and to reshape our worship of God
whose delight was and is In the beginning of all things
and whose delight is in our tilling and serving of all that is.

With our ear to the ground – down to earth preaching for the Season of Creation

David Herbert1 Comment

This sermon was written for the 3rd Sunday in the Season of Creation and is dedicated to Earth and those who suffer along with her. Genesis 2:4b-23 and Romans 8:19-23 were the chosen readings.

September 15th 2024

It’s not all about us. Sometimes it seems like it is, either about the congregation or about people in general. We may be forgiven for thinking its all about us. But it isn’t.

Psalm 148 calls the whole creation to praise the Lord – the sun and moon, the stars, sea monsters and the deeps, fire and hail, snow and frost, stormy wind, mountains and hills, fruit trees and cedars, wild animals and all cattle, creeping things and flying birds, kings of the earth, princes and rulers, young men and women, old and young together – let them all praise the Lord.

It’s not all about us. The whole creation is called to praise the Lord together. Its all about us being joined in praise together.

Today is the 3rd Sunday of the Season of Creation. This Season of Creation is a reminder of our joint vocation; that It’s not all about us, but is for the whole of God’s creation. It’s a reminder of our separation, egocentricity, selfishness and sin.

The Season of Creation is a relatively new variation to the liturgical year, dating back to 1989 when Patriarch Demetrios (of the Orthodox Church) invited all people of goodwill to dedicate September 1st as a special day of prayer for the preservation of the natural environment. It became an ecumenical project backed by the World Council of Churches, the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion and turned into a season beginning on September 1st and ending on the Feast of St Francis of Assisi – October 4th.

You will see that this sermon sticks out like a sore thumb from today’s liturgy. And we’ve changed the readings so that they fit the Season of Creation better than the ones we are supposed to be reading today. There is a lot of work to be done to develop theological and liturgical resources to respond to the crises we see all around us, and the cries which come from the heart of creation. It’s not something I’ve done before either – it’s all new to me – but I do feel a strong sense of vocation to make this start – including penance for our neglect of the subject.

We have to begin somewhere. Your Harvest festivals and Pet Services are something of a start and echo the faith of the psalmist in Psalm 148.

I suggest we begin by putting our ear to the ground. Hebrew is the language of most of our scriptures. Adamah is the Hebrew for ground/earth. Adam bears that image in his name. God planted a garden.

We may have the Monty Python question. What has the earth ever done for us?

It was from the ground of the garden that God grew “every tree that is pleasant to the sight and good for food” (Genesis 2:9). From the ground God formed every animal of the field and every bird of the air. (Genesis 2:19). From the dust of the earth God made humanity. There is no other way. Earth is the mother of all living creatures. Everything comes from the earth – except woman. The Genesis tradition has it that she was formed from the rib of the one born of earth.

Those who play with words will know that HEART is an anagram of EARTH. Earth is the heart of creation..

Aboriginal poet Mary Duroux laments:

My mother, my mother,
what have they done?
Crucified you
like the Only Son?
Murder committed
by mortal hand!
I weep, my mother,
my mother, the land. 

The primitive and aboriginal understanding of the elements of creation is that we are caretakers of them. But over the centuries earth has become an increasingly abused and exploited partner, subject to human violence and carelessness. 

We’ve denuded her. We’ve stripped her, scarred her and left her exposed to the elements. We have fought over her and left her covered with blood. We have dug into her and taken her jewels, mining her with human greed. Mine, mine, mine! People fighting over her coal, gold and diamonds, pulling her one way and another – land grabbing. She’s mine, mine, mine.

If we put our ear to the ground we will hear her deep sigh of suffering.

The story of the Fall in Genesis is also the story of Earth. God said ‘because you … have eaten of the tree which I commanded you ‘You shall not eat,’ cursed is the ground because of you’ The curse on the ground may strike us as grossly unjust. What has earth done wrong. But the story of the Fall tells the deep truth that earth is cursed because of us, because of our disobedience, because of our greed, because of our abusive behaviours. Earth bears her curse like so many mothers bear the curse brought on them by their children.

We live in the midst of beautiful countryside. We enjoy looking over it. Our ear to the ground may be deceived by the restfulness of this patch of earth. But don’t be deceived. I bet the politics of the land round here is as contested here as anywhere – planning permissions, boundary disputes – not to mention the ripping apart of the earth to make way for HS2. Earth is cursed because of us – and Earth hasn’t been given her say. The voice of Earth in pain has been suppressed – just as the voices of so many exploited and abused remain suppressed.

When we have our ear to the ground we hear the Earth. She has her say. It’s not a human voice. She screams and groans her own way – and many of her groans and screams will be joining the groans and screams of others. Very often people are suffering grave injustice in those places where Earth hurts. People are hurt most where Earth hurts most, and Earth is hurt most where people hurt most because of the extremes of injustice, poverty and war. Think Ukraine. Think Holy Land. Think fire and flood where Earth and human life are cursed together, crying and screaming together in their own ways.

The prophets of the Old Testament had their ear to the ground. Jeremiah understood her desolation and heard her mourning and crying. Isaiah sees Earth “languishing”. Joel hears the groaning of the animals after fire has devoured Earth’s pasture and burned all the trees of the field.

Paul has his ear to the ground in the passage we’ve listened to from his letter to the Romans. He knows that creation has been subjected to futility and that the whole creation has been groaning … not only creation but we ourselves, who have the fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly. This Season of Creation takes us down to Earth. As the Earth groans, we groan as the Spirit of God groans within us to urgently pray for God’s kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven.

Faith takes our ear to the ground. She keeps us down to earth. Humility is a word which finds its meaning from humus, the soil. The rule of God is that the humble are blessed. How blessed are the humble. They shall inherit the earth. (Matthew 5:5). In their care Earth will find her peace. Her curse will be lifted and with all the redeemed her voice will be full of praise.

Note: The poem by Mary Duroux appears in her collection Dirge for Hidden Art