Tag: Bridges Group of Churches

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.”

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

David HerbertLeave a comment

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).

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

Creation Day

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September 1st is Creation Day – the first day of the Season of Creation which ends on October 4th, the Feast of St Francis of Assisi. Genesis 1 was the reading chosen for the creation Day liturgy at church in the heart of Warwickshire countryside.

September 1st 2024

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)

Who would want to deny that? Even at the extremes of suffering, even when human nature goes grievously wrong there is a sense that, even then, we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

And not just us. The fish of the sea, the birds of the air, even the crawling insects and the tiny seeds – all of them fearfully and wonderfully made.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made
say the people of God
in words that have reverberated
down the centuries
from the faith of the Psalmist
who echoed the words
of all those who see God
in their beginning
in one generation after another.

We are fearfully and wonderfully made
say the people of God
in words that reach
across the ages
from the very beginning
of all who see God
in the end
even in the bad times,
the mad times, the mean time.

Genesis chapter 1, verse 1. You can’t get more “beginning” than that. Genesis – the start of everything. Page 1 in our Bibles (even though this opening page of our scripture is far from the first to be written). There in the beginning is our sense of wonder, how everything came into being. This is no scientific account – how bored we would be by that. This is us – finding some order for the awesomeness of the world around us, and accounting for our wonder by putting God at the heart of everything there is.

This is the sensing by those fearfully and wonderfully made that God is the making of us. So fearfully and wonderfully made are we that nothing else can account for just how fearfully and wonderfully made we are.

There is a universal wonder in creation. We wonder “why?”, we wonder “how?” and we wonder “who?”. All people of goodwill share this sense of wonder. You have to be very insensitive, selfishly egotistical and cruel not to. And the people of God put God at the beginning seeing creation and creativity as wonderfully divine. We see God in our beginning, in a love that is never ending. We see God in the beginning – and we see God in the end, with his love in us and for us through all the time from beginning to end, in the time we call the “mean time” and the hard times.

Even in the meantime, in the darkest times we discover new things about life on earth – as we dig the garden, as we watch Life on Earth through the lens of David Attenborough and Chris Packham. We can never know enough. We are always learning, intrigued by the play of light and darkness, the stars, by the birds and the bees, all creatures, seeds, plants – and forever challenged with the sense of responsibility

The wonder we have is the beginning of faith and hope, the genesis of faith and hope, the generation of faith and hope which takes us through all our days, from the very first day of creation to the last when, in the words of Julian of Norwich, “all will be well and all manner of things shall be well”, when there will be peace beyond our understanding (Philippians 4:7), when mountains and hills will burst into song and the trees will clap their hands (Isaiah 55), when God’s kingdom comes on earth – as it is in heaven.

These verses from Genesis are pearls of wisdom and love, strung together by wonderful imagination. They put us at the heart of God’s creation, seeing us as the image of God. It was the sixth day of his work and the finishing touch of his creation. There was nothing more for God to do other than delight in his work. The next day he rested having put his work into the hands of his very image. 

In his image he made us – male and female he made us to be just like him in his love of creation and in his care for everything that is, subduing the forces of nature just as he had done in these 6 days of creation.

Today, September 1st, is being celebrated as Creation Day – a world day of prayer for creation. It’s been part of the Christian calendar for the last 35 years Patriarch Demetrios issued the first encyclical inviting all people of good will to dedicate September 1st as a special day of prayer for the preservation of the natural environment. The call was first taken up by Orthodox Christians. Then the World Council of Churches, the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Communion joined to develop an ecumenical initiative for a Season of Creation taking us from today (September 1st) to the Feast of St Francis of Assisi (October 4th).

These days, our love for creation has to take a new turn. Creation groans and demands the compassion which is the very likeness and image of God’s compassion. The seas are rising, coastlands eroding, communities are flooded and people are fleeing. The earth is burning fire while prosperous industrial nations choke the atmosphere with smoke. Species are becoming extinct as scientists fight for their lives. What we once saw we no longer see – and these were supposed to be the friends we loved and cared for.

Creation groans after decades of neglect, exploitation and abuse. It’s time we said sorry. It’s time we begged life on earth for forgiveness. It’s time we sought reconciliation. It’s time to start loving again. The whole of life was committed to the men and women God created in his likeness. None of all that life could do wrong. It was only us who could go wrong through our greed, self-interest and negligence. This Season of Creation is time for us to pray, to confess, to commit to what has been committed to us, and to reimagine the wonders of creation with God in all our beginnings.

The congregation is the point

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I don’t think I have ever preached a sermon where the point has been the congregation before. The congregation seems to be the point of the readings set for the 8th Sunday after Trinity (year B). They are Jeremiah 23:1-6, Psalm 23, Ephesians 2:11-end and Mark 6:30-34, 53-end (text below). I’m covering a long term “vacancy” in a group of churches. I’m hoping these congregations will find encouragement here.

July 21st 2024

The point of today’s readings is the gathering after the scattering – the scattering of people. I don’t think I have ever preached a sermon where the point has been the congregation before, but that seems to be the point that links the readings appointed for today. All four: the reading from Jeremiah, the Psalm, the reading from Ephesians and the gospel reading from Mark – they all build the point. The congregation is the point. The gathering after the scattering is the point.

Never has there been so many people on the move as now. By the end of last year 1 person out of every 69 was forcibly displaced, having been forced to flee persecution, conflict, violence, human rights violations and events seriously disturbing public order. That is double the number of a decade ago.

I in 69. 

Last year the global refugee population increased by 7% to over 43 million people. 73% of them came from just 5 countries: Afghanistan, Syria, Venezuela, Ukraine and Sudan.

As well as those 43 million people another 63.3 million people who were forced to flee remain in their own countries. They are known as internally displaced people. Can you imagine this? Over 9 million people in Sudan, over 7 million people in Syria, 6.9 million people in Columbia, 6.3 million people in the Democratic Republic of the Congo and 4.5 million people in Yemen – all internally displaced, mostly due to conflict and violence, and some due to natural disasters.

1 in 69.

Every bomb dropped on a village or a housing block in Ukraine and Gaza displaces the families who live there. Every military push forces out those in its path.

I in 69 people displaced and scattered. Poet Warsan Shire, herself a British poet born to Somali parents in Kenya, begins her poem called Home with the lines:
No one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark.

Home by Warsan Shire, read here by Sir Jonathan Pryce

1 in 69 people forcibly displaced – according to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees recent report on global trends. 1 in 69 – and it’s getting worse. 1 in 69 displaced and scattered because of the failure of governments to guarantee their peace and security.

This is the world we live in. Our scriptures reflect the same realities – the failure of government to secure peace and security. Our scriptures come from the heart of people displaced by persecution, oppression and exile – and those moved with compassion for them.

Jeremiah is one such person used to address the tragedy of his contemporaries being displaced in large number and scattered far and wide. Just as the UNHCR report puts the blame on the failure of governments to safeguard peace and security, so does Jeremiah all those centuries ago.

Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of the pasture! Says the Lord. Shepherd was a term used to describe the king. Jeremiah’s “woe to the shepherds” is a judgement on the line of kings who have failed the people. 

In the previous chapter Jeremiah protests against the succession of rulers whose eyes and hearts have been set on “dishonest gain, for shedding innocent blood and for practising oppression and violence” (22:17) in contrast to the good king (Josiah) who “judged the cause of the poor and needy” (22:16). 

It was the failure of the rulers to “execute justice and deliver from the hand of the oppressor anyone who has been robbed” which resulted in the scattering of people. The promise in Jeremiah is to gather the scattered, the ones lost, to raise up shepherds who will shepherd them, so that they shall fear no longer, nor be dismayed, nor go missing.

Similarly, in our gospel reading, Jesus sees the crowd coming to him. (Is Mark here seeing the fulfilment of the promise of Jeremiah?) Mark writes that Jesus had compassion on the crowd because they were like sheep without a shepherd. 

The verses of today’s gospel immediately follows the beheading of John the Baptist in prison – the beheading of Jesus’s own cousin by Herod at the request of his dancing daughter and wife. Herod, as king, was supposed to shepherd the people, but left the people like sheep without a shepherd. Mark pictures Herod partying with his courtiers and the “leaders of Galilee” – the very ones who should have been keeping watch of the people. Another Partygate. Mark pictures Herod and his court getting fat at the expense of the poor. 

The lost and scattered, then as now, are always the victims of failed government, self-serving leaders (misleaders) and corrupt shepherds. The lost and scattered are always the people on whom God shows compassion, through the prophets, through Jesus and through the work of the Holy Spirit.

All we see in today’s gospel is people gathering and coming together around Jesus and the disciples. The intention was that Jesus and his disciples were going to find a deserted place so that they could get some rest. They went by boat. But they were spotted. Many saw them and recognised them, and they hurried on foot from the towns and got there before the boat landed. There were five thousand of them – an unimaginable number of people, like sheep without a shepherd.

Again, later, when they landed at Gennesaret in the second section of our gospel reading), people recognised Jesus and they rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was.

Notice the rush people were in. Mark underlines their hurry. They rushed about that whole region bringing the sick to wherever he was. Wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the market-places, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak.

Jesus doesn’t let them go. He has compassion on them.
He heals them. He makes clean what the religious (mis)leaders had made unclean He restores them to their communities – no longer outcasts.

He feeds them – yes, the crowd in today’s gospel is the crowd he feeds with just the five loaves and two fish.
And he began to teach them many things.

Here is the good shepherd doing what good shepherds do: gathering the scattered, the least, the lost, the sick and helpless – making right the people the bad shepherds and corrupt leaders had wronged.

This is the point: the gathering after the scattering. The crowding together is the point. 

And here we are – gathered, a congregation.
How do we see ourselves?
Do we see ourselves as among those on whom Jesus has compassion?
Do we see ourselves as held together by his love?
Do we see that without our gathering we would (in the words of the epistle) remain as strangers and aliens, hopeless and far off?
Do we see that we are brought to this point “by the blood of Christ”? 
Do we see that we are citizens with the saints and members of the household of God?
Do we see ourselves built together spiritually as a dwelling-place for God?
Do we see that Jesus feeds us – even as we walk together through the valley overshadowed by death?
Do we see that Jesus has begun to teach us many things?
Do we see this as the rule of heaven, his will on earth, as it is in heaven?
Do we see ourselves as the lucky ones, even as the ones the world counted least, or last or even lost, who by amazing grace have become among the first gathering of Jesus?
Do we see ourselves being joined by others, including some of the many others who make up the 1 in 69 people currently on the move, without a shepherd?
Do we see this as our place of belonging – after all our longing?

Is this not home, where we belong – counted, fed, healed, restored?
Do we see our congregation as the point that proves Jeremiah’s promise, the gathering that justifies our faith in the Lord our shepherd?

Mark 6:30-34, 53-end

The apostles gathered around Jesus, and told him all that they had done and taught. He said to them, ‘Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest a while’. For many were coming and going, and they had no leisure even to eat. And they went away in the boat to a deserted place by themselves. Now many saw them going and recognised them, and they hurried there on foot from all the towns and arrived ahead of them. As he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them, because they were like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.

When they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret and moored the boat. When they got out of the boat, people at once recognised him, and rushed about that whole region and began to bring the sick on mats to wherever they heard he was. And wherever he went, into villages or cities or farms, they laid the sick in the market-places, and begged him that they might touch even the fringe of his cloak; and all who touched it were healed.