Tag: St John the Baptist Lower Shuckburgh

We’re all at sea in our small boats

David Herbert2 Comments

This is a reflection on the sea and the troubled waters we call life for the 4th Sunday after Trinity (B).

I spotted “the other boats” in the gospel reading for the day, from Mark 4:35-end (text below). They played on my mind as we prepare for a UK election which some want to turn into an election on immigration. It made me think – “we’re all at sea” and the forecast is for more storms. This sermon comes with a health warning – it is metaphor heavy.

The first verse we see when we open our Bibles is “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep while the spirit of God swept over the face of the waters.” (Genesis 1:1-2) 

The last verses in our Bibles are also about water – the “river of the water of life, bright as crystal, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb, through the middle of the street of the city, feeding trees bearing fruit for all seasons and leaves for the healing of the nations”. (Revelation 22:1-2)

In the beginning of the Bible there is total darkness. In the end, there is only light – no darkness and no hiding.

The Bible begins in water and ends in water. And between the two there is all the difference in the world – as different as night and day.

The Bible begins in water. The water is chaos. The first thing God does is make light. The second thing he does is sort the waters out. He separates the waters of heaven and earth, gathered the water together and let dry land appear. That’s how it began. 

This is a theological view of life. This is how we open our Bibles. We open them with an understanding that we are all at sea. From the very beginning we have been surrounded by water, the sea, the deep. We’ve been on flood alert since the time of Noah.

Probably all of us here have had times in our lives when we have felt overwhelmed, engulfed or drowning – and used these metaphors to describe how we felt, using so many metaphors drawn from our collective experience down the ages of chaos and the sea. So much of our language reflects this. Like “we’re out of our depth”, or “we’re in it up to our neck”, or “we’re all at sea”.

The Bible begins with water and ends with water. From day one there is storm after storm. The waves crash all around us until that day when the waters become calm and do God’s bidding of giving life and healing to the whole of creation.

These are the times we live in, when there is one storm on top of another. For the time being we are between the devil and the deep blue sea. (Another popular saying.)

These are the times Jesus lived in as well. The storms he faced were different to ours. With his contemporaries he was assaulted by religious oppression and exclusion, a taxation poor which kept them in poverty and debt, and an occupation by a foreign power which robbed them of their freedom.

His attitude at times like these is captured in the snapshot we have of him in today’s gospel reading. They’re all at sea. A great gale arose, and the waves were beating the boat and swamping it. And Jesus slept. Calm as you like.

There were other boats. It’s strange how you miss details like this. I must have read this passage hundreds of times, but I’ve never seen those four words before. There were other boats. Have I never noticed these other boats because the focus has always been on Jesus’ boat? Have I only spotted these boats now because of the small boats that desperate refugees are taking to to escape to safe havens. 

(Isn’t it terrible that some people are turning the election into an election about immigration and the people in these small boats?) It is Refugee Week – and we need to spot their boats, not stop their boats. There is a growing refugee crisis – that means a crisis for a growing number of refugees. 1 in 69 of the world’s population is now displaced, largely because of conflicts around the world. It’s important we respond to their Mayday.  M’aidez. Help me! It is, after all, the refugees who have the problem – all those who have no safe routes for escape. They have enough problems without being turned into a political football.

We’re all at sea. We’re not all in the same boat. We’re not in the same boats as the refugees. We’re all in our different small boats. We’re all at the mercy of troublemakers, powers-that-be, the forces that make waves, and the sea so dangerous. 

There’s a well known fisherman’s prayer that captures our plight. It’s become known as the Breton Fisherman’s Prayer: 

Dear God,
be good to me;
the sea is so wide, and my boat is so small. 
Amen.

They’re words from a poem by Winfred Ernest Garrison.

It’s not surprising that so many make that prayer their own. The words fit the experience we call “being all at sea”.

The sea is our life with its currents and tides, its ferocity and deceptive charm constantly eroding and undermining us. The challenge of our lives is how we navigate these waters.

We are like those who, in the words of Psalm 107 “go down to the sea in ships and ply their trade in great waters”, who have seen the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep. While they were at their wit’s end as they reeled and staggered like drunkards, they cried to the Lord in their trouble and he brought them out of their distress. He made the storm be still and the waves of the sea were calmed.

Our lifetime at sea is summed up in our baptism. We are soaked in deep water, and brought through water as if this is an acknowledgement of our life at sea, weathering the storms faced by us all, Jesus included. The question we’re asked in baptism is, “Do you turn to Christ?” Our response then is “I turn to Christ”. It’s stated as a promise. Perhaps it should be stated as a habit. 

In the storms of life, when you’re all at sea, when you feel you’re drowning, do you turn to Christ? The faithful ones, like the ones in the psalm, will say, “Yes, I turn to Christ. He’s the one who can sleep in the storm. He’s the non-anxious presence. We turn to him to hear him say ‘Peace! Be still!’ – and when we do, the wind dies down and we feel the calm.”

It’s easier said than done because in the midst of things it is too easy to panic.

The waves that have panicked me have been so slight compared to what others have faced. Dare I say I’ve done enough doom scrolling to sink a battleship? I am only beginning to learn to wake Jesus in my mind, to hear him in the head of the storm, to find better things to think about, to take his word as gospel. 

I know that when the sea calms for me, it calms also for all the other small boats.

Here we gather. We call this gathering place the NAVE – the Latin word for ship. We are shipmates in our small boat.

Here we are, all at sea, our metaphorical sea. The metaphorical weather is awful. Even though the long term forecast is for beautiful, calm weather, immediately, all we can expect is one storm after another. There are dark forces within us, and all around us, threatening us – driving so many from their homes, driving them to the edge, condemning them/us to their/our fate on the sea of life.

We are shipmates. We’ve been through it before. We’ve been through the waters of baptism. We’re used to turning to Christ – who in today’s gospel we see in the same boat as ourselves. In the rage of the storm he makes himself heard. We hear him call us “beloved”. The wind and the sea hear him. ‘Peace! Be still!’ they hear him say. For the moment they obey him.

Here we are, churches in the Bridges Group of Parishes – like a bridge in troubled water for all those who live in these six parishes. When we’re weary, feeling small, when times get tough, when we’re down and out, when darkness comes and pain is all around – we know the words of the one even the wind and sea obey.

Mark 4:35-end
On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, ‘Let us go across to the other side.’ And leaving the crowd behind, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. Other boats were with him. A great gale arose, and the waves beat into the boat, so that the boat was already being swamped. But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion; and they woke him up and said to him, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” He woke up and rebuked the wind, and said to the sea, ‘Peace! Be still!’ Then the wind ceased, and there was a dead calm. He said to them, ‘Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?’ And they were filled with great awe and said to one another, ‘Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?’

Seeing the wood for the trees – something for Palm Sunday

David HerbertLeave a comment

Here’s a sermon with donkeys, trees and their glad hosannas for two churches in the heart of Warwickshire countryside. We used Mark 11:1-11 and Philippians 2:5-11 as our readings.

March 24th 2024

The Cubbington Pear, European Tree of the Year 2015

They announced the winner of the European Tree of the Year this week. The winner is a Polish Beech called Heart of the Garden. It’s the third year in a row that a Polish tree has won. The UK Tree of the Year is a Sweet Chestnut in Acton Park in Wrexham. The Cubbington Pear won the award in 2015.

The Heart of the Garden took me all the way back to the tree at the heart of the Garden of Eden to the pomegranate tree we know as the Tree of Life where we made the choice of listening to one another, making our own decisions, breaking free and breaking bad in the same moment. In Holy Week we follow a carpenter to a cross made from a broken tree – a tree they broke to break Jesus. That tree is for us the Tree of Life. That’s the tree we gather round. It is the Tree of the Year all our years. It is where we meet God, hear him, and learn the practice of obedience in following him.

We can trace the roots of the tree broken for Jesus to the tree grown for us, the tree at the heart of the garden. Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem traces that route.

It begins with temptation. When Jesus told his followers that he must go to Jerusalem and will face suffering, Peter took him aside and rebuked him suggesting that there was an easier way of life for Jesus. Jesus dismissed this temptation of Peter in the same way he’d dismissed the temptations he faced in the wilderness. He used the same words to Peter as he had to the other tempter – “get behind me Satan”.

The journey to Jerusalem goes from the tree at the heart of the garden, all the way to the tree that was broken, bruised and cut for the crucifixion of the one they wanted to break, bruise and cut. Trees play their part all the way. Branches from palm trees cheer him on his way to the olives of the Garden of Gethsemane to the greatest of all tests of obedience as he faced up to his betrayal, arrest and murder. The journey to Jerusalem takes us from the first sense of human shame all the way to the final sense of divine glory, when, in the words of Isaiah, the mountains and hills will burst into song and the trees of the field will clap their hands.

The journey to Jerusalem goes from the wilderness of temptation to the heart of power, to the religious and political capital. Jesus moves from the edge, from the margins to the centre. Hosannas ring in his ears. Palms are waving, clapping their hands.

We left last week’s gospel with the promise that “Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out”. (John 12:20-33) That is what the Hosannas are about. That’s the reason for the palm waving. That’s the point of the donkey.

Hosanna is a cry for help from those who need helping. It means “help, I pray”, or “save us, I pray”. It’s a cry as old as time, reverberating from the tree at the heart of the garden of Eden, that weeping pomegranate. It’s the sound of despair. But it’s also the sound of jubilation for those who realise that the one who is able to help and save is with them. They are seeing the ruler of this world being driven out. They have been the victims of those who have made them struggle, who have made them poor and who have made them suffer. They clap their hands. They wave their palms. Celebration is in the air. Their help is in the name of the one who comes riding a donkey.

How absurd.

How absurd to have a king on a donkey.

Donkeys are known as beasts of burden and carry those burdens with patient determination. This donkey carried the one who himself had burdened himself with the world and was bearing it with patient suffering. Those who waved their palms could see that. They could see in the absurdity a different sort of power – the power of humility which would drive out the ruler of this world.

They had a picture in their minds, drawn for them by Zechariah the prophet. Here’s what Zechariah envisaged:

Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem!
See your king comes to you, righteous and victorious,
lowly and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.
I will take away the chariots from Ephraim
and the warhorses from Jerusalem,
and the battle bow will be broken.
He will proclaim peace to the nations.

Zechariah 9:9-10

You get the picture. It’s the one who rides the donkey against the riders of chariots and those who sit on their high horses – and the humble donkey wins. Jesus drew on the faith of the Psalms. He will have known Psalm 147 – where God’s delight is not in the strength of the horse, nor his pleasure in the speed of a runner. The Lord takes pleasure in those who hope in his steadfast love, like those whgo shout “Hosanna!”

Many rulers of this world will have come and gone in Jerusalem invading with their war horses. The people of Jerusalem will have been used to the sight of the chariots used by their Roman occupiers and overrulers. And, here on a donkey, is the peasant teacher who walks alongside the poor as their helper and deliverer, driving out the rulers of their world. The donkey highlights Jesus’ affrontery and the scorn he pours on those who use their power to exploit and oppress others.

We may think that the way our gospel ends this morning is a bit of an anticlimax. Mark says, Jesus went into Jerusalem. He went into the temple, looked around at everything, as it was already late and then went away again. But he comes back later in the week with his disciples. While they are awestruck by the magnificence of the Temple, particularly the wonderful stonework (Mark 13:1-2), Jesus is condemning the Temple and its rulers for turning the house of prayer for all nations into a den of thieves. Not one stone would be left standing on another as the rulers of that world would be driven out.

The rulers Jesus has in his sights are not those who run their affairs with love and compassion. He would have been delighted if he had found the temple was being run so that it was truly of place of prayer for all nations.

The rulers he wants to drive out are the same ones all those who shout “Hosanna” want out. Those who are self-serving, cruel, exploitative and oppressive. They are the tyrants and dictators – not just those in government, or with empires, but all those who abuse their power becoming bullies in the playground, tyrants in the workplace and violent abusers in their homes.

Jesus plodded into Jerusalem, at the same pace as those he walked alongside, their hosannas ringing in his ears. Just being on the back of the donkey was like a parody sketch through which Jesus poured scorn on the rulers of this world. It is an insult to them high and mighty and an assault on their fortifications and defences. Of course, they are going to fight back, and they did get their own back. They were able to turn the weapons of betrayal and the force of empire on Jesus, manipulating the crowd into calling for his crucifixion.

This is how hope arrives. It plods alongside the slowest, the weakest, the last and the least. It is as David to Goliath. It is an absurd way. It is the way of the cross. It is the way of love. It is the way the rulers of this world are driven out and the just and gentle rule of God begins. It is the way the “Hosannas” of desparation become the “Hosannas” of joyous celebration. Our help is in the name of the Lord (Psalm 124:8). The Lord is here. His spirit is with us.

The fight goes on – not on horseback, but on donkeyback. With our palms we join the trees of the field as they clap their hands and we sing our hosannas.

Our second reading, Philippians 2:5-11 explains how we believe the just and gentle rule of God begins:

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus:

Who, being in very nature God,
    did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage;

rather, he made himself nothing
    by taking the very nature of a servant,
    being made in human likeness.

And being found in appearance as a man,
    he humbled himself
    by becoming obedient to death—
        even death on a cross!

Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
    and gave him the name that is above every name,

that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.

Mark 11:1-11

When they were approaching Jerusalem, at Bethphage and Bethany, near the Mount of Olives, he sent two of his disciples and said to them, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and immediately as you enter it, you will find there a colt that has never been ridden; untie it and bring it. If anyone says to you, “Why are you doing this?” just say this, “The Lord needs it and will send it back immediately.”’

They went away and found a cold tied near a door, outside in the street. As they were untying it, some of the bystanders said to them, ‘What are you doing, untying the colt?’ They told them what Jesus had said; and they allowed them to take it. Then they brought the colt to Jesus and threw their cloaks on it; and he sat on it. 

Many people spread their cloaks on the road, and others spread leafy branches that they had cut in the fields. Then those who went ahead and those who followed were shouting, ‘Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord! Blessed is the coming kingdom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!’

Then he entered Jerusalem and went into the temple; and when he had looked around at everything, as it was already late, he went out to Bethany with the twelve.

Righteousness rights wrongs

David Herbert3 Comments

Not for ever in green pastures …….

This simple reflection for the 2nd Sunday in Lent (B) is for a small group who gather once a month for worship following the Book of Common Prayer. Hymn singing is not part of what they do, except today when the focus is on the hymn Father, hear the prayer we offer as a way of a simple exploration of Jesus’s way of suffering in Mark 8:31-end.

We have prayed this morning:

Almighty God,
you show to those who are in error the light of your truth,
that they may return to the way of righteousness:
grant to all those who are admitted into the fellowship of Christ’s religion,
that they may reject those things that are contrary to their profession,
and follow all such things as are agreeable to the same

We have prayed to God who shows to those in error the light of his truth that they may walk in the way of righteousness. God wants his people to walk the way of righteousness, and he gives us the means to do that.

What is the way of righteousness?

Righteousness is the translation of the Greek word in the New Testament which gives us also the word justice. In other words, that Greek word, is translated in two different ways: righteousness and justice – and can be summed up in the word rectification. So the way of righteousness is the way of rectification, the way of setting right what is wrong, the way of rectifying what is unjust. It is the way of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Another word we use is salvation. We, alongside many others, including many non-Christians lovingly long for this rectification and salvation.

And we know it’s not an easy way.

A song from the heart of the church is Father, hear the prayer we offer.
Father, hear the prayer we offer, not for ease that prayer shall be, but for strength that we may ever live our lives courageously.

In today’s gospel Peter again gets it wrong. Jesus was talking openly about how the Son of Man had to undergo great suffering, be reject and be killed, and Peter took him aside to rebuke Jesus about this. To which Jesus said to him what he’d already said to the tempter in the wilderness – “Get behind me Satan”. Peter was suggesting an easier way for Jesus. Father hear the prayer we offer, not for ease that prayer shall be.

We went to see the film about Nicholas Winton this week – One Life. He was a stockbroker who in 1938 went to Prague to witness the plight of refugees there – people fleeing for their lives. He took an enormous risk going there. His mother didn’t want him to go. She knew how dangerous it was. She wanted an easier way for her son. But he insisted, “I have to go”.

He was horrified by what he found in Prague and immediately set about finding a way to rescue some of them. It was the plight of the children which most affected him. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to help them – nor did those who were with him. He just knew that he had to find a way – a way that would need visas, foster homes and money. Gradually he found the way and organised the trains that would rescue 669 children.

Father, hear the prayer we offer:

Not for ever in green pastures do we ask our way to be, but the steep and rugged pathway may we tread rejoicingly.

Esther Rantzen’s programme, That’s Life, featured his story. They invited him as a guest and in great appreciation surprised him with an audience made up of the children he had saved back in 1938. The final credits of the film One Life suggested that over 6000 people owed their life to him – taking account of the families the children he rescued went on to have. He never talked about his work. His wife only discovered what he had done when she found a scrapbook in their home many years later.

He is remembered in Israel and named as one of The Righteous among the Nations – they are non-Jews who saved Jews during the Holocaust. He is one of the righteous who followed the way of righteousness, righting wrongs in his small ways, the only ways he could.

We have heard a lot this week about the former leader of opposition to Vladimir Putin. Alexei Navalny died in his cell in his prison inside the Arctic Circle – most likely he was killed. Alexei Navalny was a Christian. The Beatitudes were his inspiration. He called them his instruction book. He was particularly inspired by the blessing on those who hunger and thirst after righteousness. That is what he did. He hungered and thirsted after righteousness, all the while knowing the risks he was running, undergoing great suffering, getting rejected, and finally being killed ….

We don’t live with the same extremes as Alexei Navalny. We are not victims of Russian imperialism, nor are we Jews facing persecution and extermination, nor are we living in Jesus’ context in Israel, where their life wasn’t their own because of the Roman occupation and the cruelty that went along with that.

We could say that we live in quieter times in this rural setting of Warwickshire – but Christian prayer isn’t about having an easy time. There is a temptation to turn our backs on the suffering world, and we can do that because we might have built up protections. It is a temptation – to turn our back, to close our eyes and to not engage our hearts and minds. We have to resist the temptation to turn our back, to turn away from trouble, and instead we need to turn to face the realities of life and engage with the suffering of those who are the victims of wrongdoing. This is the way of righteousness – making things right, righting wrongs in our own small ways.

Father, hear the prayer we offer:
Not for ever, by still waters, would we idly rest and stay.

There are two ways we can go. We can go the way of the tempter, or we can go the way of Jesus. “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.” That’s the way of righteousness. It’s the harder way and the way that those who love us may prefer us not to follow.

Mark 8:31 – end

Then Jesus began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days rise again. He said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and began to rebuke him. But turning and looking at his disciples, he rebuked Peter and said, ‘Get behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on human things.’

He called the crowd with his disciples and said to them, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it. For what will it profit them to gain the whole world and forfeit their life? Indeed, what can they give in return for their life? Those who are ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of them the Son of Man will also be ashamed when he comes in the glory of his Father with the holy angels.’

PS I am grateful for Fleming Rutledge’s work. She is the one who has pointed out the meaning of righteousness as rectification in her book The Crucifixion.

Discovering consolation with Simeon and Anna

David Herbert1 Comment

The weekend of Holocaust Memorial Day is the day we celebrate The Presentation of Christ in the Temple. Here’s what I prepared for a small worship gathering in a Warwickshire village.

Presentation of Christ in the Temple – January 28th 2024

I don’t know how many of you watch films, TV or read books. Charles Darwin read novels to relax. But he had one requirement. The book had to have a happy ending. If it didn’t he would fling it furiously on the fire.

So says Polish poet Wislawa Szymborska in her poem called Consolation.

The poem continues:

Roaming in his mind over so many times and places
looking back on all the extinct species,
such triumphs of strong over weak,
so many tests of survival,
sooner or later all in vain,
that at least in fiction
and its micro-scale
he had a right to expect a happy ending.

I don’t know what you make of evolutionary theory, whether you agree with it or not, but I suppose that our usual viewpoint is that of the “survivor” and the “strong” and “fit”. The theory is about the “fittest” surviving. The theory is very good news for the strong as they continually score triumphs over the weak, but it’s very bad news for the forever beaten, weakened to extinction. The logic of natural selection and survival of the fittest was behind the Nazi death camps – their catastrophe we remember this weekend in Holocaust Memorial Day.

Seeing life like that, it is understandable that Darwin looked for happy endings when he read to relax.

Our gospel this morning is about the search for happy endings. Simeon, we are told, was “righteous and devout” and was “looking forward to the consolation of Israel”. His consolation was to take the child Jesus in his arms and to find in him the hope of salvation, “a light for revelation to the Gentiles” and for glory to the people Israel.

The old lady in the gospel story, Anna, started speaking about the child “to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem” – in other words, those looking for consolation because of the state of Jerusalem.

The poet continues her poem by listing all sorts of happy endings. Here they are, some of them:

And so, necessarily: sunrays behind a cloud,
lovers together again, kin reconciled,
doubts dissolved, faith rewarded,
fortunes recovered, treasures dug up.
Neighbours regret their mulishness,
good names restored, greed put to shame,
old maids married to respectable ministers,
schemers expelled to the other hemisphere,
forgers of documents cast down the stairs,
seducers of virgins hurrying to altars
orphans taken in, widows embraced,
pride humbled, wounds mended,
prodigal sons invited to the table,
the cup of bitterness poured into the sea,
tissues wet with tears of reconciliation,
universal singing and music-making,
and the puppy Fido,
lost already in the first chapter,
let him run home again
and bark joyfully.

We’re here, not just because we are survivors. We may have survived many plots and lived through many twists and turns but it is because we love our neighbours as we love ourselves that we are here. Together we stand. We know those who are going through hell. We know those who are hanging on by a thread. We know those who are beaten, rejected and weakened by those who are stronger, wealthier and better connected. We know the plight of the poor, the refugee. We know the victims of hate crimes. We know people who aren’t allowed to be themselves. We cry for the children killed in war, for the families who go hungry. We’re here for them, to worship the God who brings consolation.

Nicholas Winton saved the lives of many Jewish children. His life is featured in the film One Life now showing in cinemas.

We all understand that fiction is fiction and that too often there are no happy endings. There is too much tragedy and that grieves us so. We live in the world where the strong rule over the weak, and where the weak, if they survive at all, continue to suffer. If only there could be a happy ending to all the unhappy endings.

And so we pray – for those who are poor, those who are sick, those in prison, those who are vulnerable. In our prayers we are looking for consolation for those for whom we pray. We are with Simeon whose eyes were fixed on the consolation of Israel, and we are with Anna in her conversations with those looking for the redemption of Jerusalem. We are with them looking for the happy ending for all those who have been wronged and for all those suffering in the state of things today.

We will do all in our power to help those who need our help. We will fight for better lives, happier endings. We gather our energies to make sure that the vulnerable do survive. We know they deserve their happy-ever-after and we will do all in our power to stop those who don’t care for the way it ends for them, the heartless beasts, the wolves, the tyrants.

Israel was suffering from heartless beasts. They were prey to wolves. Tyrants ruled them. They had a history of exile, persecution, oppression – a vast accumulation of trauma and tragedy. Simeon felt that. Anna felt that. And all those Anna spoke amongst felt that. That is why they were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem – a very different ending to the ignominious end which seemed to be their destiny.

Simeon knows there is a happy ending. He has seen it with his own eyes. He has held it in his arms. He has embraced the ending which will see many “fall” and many “raised”. The poor will be blessed. They will rise up. The beasts will be slain. This is the consolation of weak, occupied, isolated Israel. The consolation of Israel is the survival of the least, the last and the lost. The consolation of Israel is the humiliation of the beastly strong. The consolation of Israel is the child. The consolation of Israel is the vulnerability God takes to heart.

Not everyone knows that the Christmas season is a 40 day season in the liturgical year, just like Advent was and Lent is. The Christmas story ends with the presentation of Jesus in the temple. There is a Feast on February 2nd to celebrate this ending. That is the 40th day which churches keep on the Sunday before feb 2nd if they don’t keep weekday festivals. Our gospel reading is the reading for that 40th day.

There are many twists and turns in the Christmas story. There is the danger Mary is in by getting pregnant outside of marriage, there is the discomfort of the journey, there not being any room for them in Bethlehem, the threat to Jesus’ life from Herod, having to take flight to Egypt as refugees. All this is part of the story, let alone the battle between light and dark. There is a happy ending. Simeon finds the consolation Israel was searching for and Anna names their redeemer.

Musicals were playing in the background when I was finishing this sermon. The earworm was Love changes everything. It is love that changes everything. It is love that gives Charles Darwin and ourselves a happy ending. The happy ending is not the survival of the fittest. 

The happy ending is the unhappy ending for the villains (often the fittest, strongest, riches and most powerful). The happy ending is the survival of the people God loves – those so easily lost and so often last and least.

Luke 2:22-40
When the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord (as it is written in the law of the Lord, ‘Every firstborn male shall be designated as holy to the Lord”), and they offered a sacrifice according to what is stated in the law of the Lord, ‘a pair of turtle-doves or two young pigeons.’

Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,
“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace,
according to your word;
for my eyes have seen your salvation,
which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples,
a light for revelation to the Gentiles
and for glory to your people Israel.’

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, ‘This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own heart too.’

There was also a prophet, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was of a great age, having lived with her husband for seven years after her marriage, and then as a widow to the age of eighty-four. She never left the temple but worshipped there with fasting and prayer night and day. At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

When they had finished everything required by the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him.

So late in the day – the parable of the labourers in the vineyard

David Herbert1 Comment

So late in the day. This is a sermon on the parable of the labourers in the vineyard from Matthew 20:1-16 (text below). It’s for a small congregation in rural Warwickshire who only meet once a month and use the Book of Common Prayer for their worship. Interestingly there is a local landlord and the villagers are his tenants.

So late in the day I am realising how earth shattering Jesus’ teaching is, shaking us to our foundations. None more so than this parable of the labourers in the vineyard in which the time of the day is so important. It is late in the day.

Preparing this has shaken me up – me, now so long in the tooth and late in the day.

I am in my 70s. I’ve been preaching for 50 years. I am white, educated, male. I have been privileged, among the first chosen, and never short of work.

So, so, so late in the day I come to this parable and I am shaken to my core by Jesus’ teaching about the kingdom of heaven where the last come first and the first come last.

I realise that even so late in the day I have much work to do. At last I realise I am among the last. It has taken me so long.

The landowner in Jesus’s parable of the kingdom seems outrageously unfair and the labourers who have worked the longest hours are right to complain that they could have worked for just one hour for the same pay. They complain: “You have made us all equal”.

Imagine your local landowner doing something like that.

Now, remember the horrors of your school PE lessons when two people were chosen by the teacher to pick sides. You may have been one of the lucky ones to be amongst those picked first. You may have even been one of the gifted and talented privileged to choose the teams. Or you may have been the one picked last with your arm forlornly over your head the longest calling half-heartedly “pick me”. It was always humiliating to be amongst the last to be picked – to be one of the “also rans”.

We easily understood how those decisions and choices were made. Those who were “best” were chosen first because they were “winners”, or they had friends in high places. Those chosen last are the “losers”, who, because they are “losers” are the Billy-no-mates. If ever they complain they’re told to get over it, “life’s like that”, “get used to it”. Life isn’t fair, Everybody isn’t equal.

This parable uses the labour market as its backdrop. The labour market works pretty much the same way as teams are chosen in PE. The strong candidates, with their strong applications, with their right qualifications and their right experience are the ones chosen first. They’ve often been to the right schools and know the right people. Other candidates show their weaknesses and carry penalties such as their not-so-good education possibly because of the poverty of their childhood, or the way they talk, or look, or the colour of their skin, or their gender or their age. There will always be people who are chosen last, who might eventually be told that there is a little job they can do to help. That little job will keep the wolf from the door, but the gap between those who are chosen first (the well paid) and those chosen last (the poorly paid) gets wider and wider.

This is the economic order we live with in the kingdoms of this world. This is the rule: the first will be first and the last will be last.

In the parables treasured by the church, Jesus points us to a different kingdom – the kingdom of heaven. The kingdom of heaven is nothing like the kingdoms on earth because in the kingdom of heaven the rule is not that the first will be forever first and the last forever last. The rule of the kingdom of heaven puts the first last and the last first.

The landowner is strict in his instructions to the manager. He tells him to call the labourers and give them their pay. “Begin with the last, then go to the first.” This is how the last come to be first and the first come to be last. It is the deliberate choice of the landowner who, of course, is God.

Jesus’s teaching really does shake us to our foundations.

Here was something for them to really complain about – those complaining would have been those who were first – those who had lost out in the landowner’s deliberate discrimination in favour of those hired at last. It’s their complaint that makes them last. They complain “you have made us all equal”. That is a complaint against the landowner, against God and against the last. It’s a complaint that makes them unfit for the kingdom of heaven. Of course they will be last in that kingdom where the truth is that the first will be last and the last will be first.

It’s not the first time in Matthew’s gospel that we have heard that the first will be last and the last first. In the previous chapter (19:16-30), when Jesus is explaining to his followers how difficult it is for those who are rich to enter the kingdom of heaven (as hard as it is for a camel to climb through the eye of a needle!), he uses the same rule. “Many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.” And he says that this will happen “at the renewal of all things”.

What can we take from this?

The first thing is that there is hope for those who are last in the choices and power dynamics of the world and that they have every reason to fervently and faithfully pray for the “renewal of all things” because they are the first choice of God.

The second thing is that those who have been used to the privileges and power of being among the first have a choice to make. They (we?) can choose to complain or not complain. They (we?) can choose to join the complaints about the apparent injustice of the rule of the kingdom of heaven (which puts the last first), implying that they will have no part in such a rule or kingdom.

Or they (we?) can choose to celebrate with the last at the renewal of all things. They (we?) can help them (us?) to be first. They (we?) can take their side. Even so late in the day they (we?) can take the side of the refugee, the poor, the sick, the disabled, the weak, the voiceless, the excluded, the ridiculed, joining their prayer for the renewal of all things, joining God’s pleasure in those otherwise forgotten and often forsaken.

All of us have that choice to make – and we make that choice in our prayer. There are people who always come first in our way of thinking and there are people who always come last. If we pray as our Saviour taught us, for his kingdom to come on earth as it is in heaven, we will be praying for those who are the last or seldom chosen. When we make that choice we join Jesus and Mary in their prayer. 

Mary’s joy in God is captured in her song. Her soul rejoices that God has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant, that he scatters the proud in the thoughts of their hearts, that he brings down the powerful from their thrones, lifting up the lowly, filling the hungry with good things and sending the rich away empty. (Luke 1:46-55)

These are the people Jesus has chosen to be uppermost in his mind. He names them in his teaching (Matthew 25: 31-46) in the parable of the sheep and the goats. Those chosen are the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the prisoner. These are the people who come first to Jesus and they are the ones who come first in the prayer of the church. Among them are those who want to join Jesus in his prayer for the renewal of all things.

It’s not that we don’t also pray for those who come first. We do pray for those who come first, our leaders. Our prayer for them is that the last will always be first for them, that everything will be for their sake. So we will pray this morning for King Charles and the government that their governance will be governed by the rule that the last come first and the first come last.

In the parable the landowner, the owner of all, gives very careful instructions to his “manager”. The instruction is: begin with the last then go to the first. The question for all those who hear the parable is CAN WE MANAGE THAT? Can we manage to do that and manage the complaints and grumbling that come our way for always beginning with those who come last in the kingdoms and empires on earth? It is, after all, teaching like this that crucified Jesus.

St John the Baptist, Lower Shuckburgh – September 24th 2023

Matthew 20:1-16
“For the kingdom of heaven is like a landowner who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2After agreeing with the laborers for the usual daily wage, he sent them into his vineyard. 3When he went out about nine o’clock, he saw others standing idle in the marketplace; 4and he said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard, and I will pay you whatever is right.’ So they went. 5When he went out again about noon and about three o’clock, he did the same. 6And about five o’clock he went out and found others standing around; and he said to them, ‘Why are you standing here idle all day?’ 7They said to him, ‘Because no one has hired us.’ He said to them, ‘You also go into the vineyard.’ 8When evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his manager, ‘Call the laborers and give them their pay, beginning with the last and then going to the first.’ 9When those hired about five o’clock came, each of them received the usual daily wage. 10Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received the usual daily wage. 11And when they received it, they grumbled against the landowner, 12saying, ‘These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.’ 13But he replied to one of them, ‘Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for the usual daily wage? 14Take what belongs to you and go; I choose to give to this last the same as I give to you. 15Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or are you envious because I am generous?’ 16So the last will be first, and the first will be last.”