St Mark's Day: Do we worship St Mark??

Mark 13: 5-13 and Ephesians 4: 7-16

Today we celebrate St Mark's Day - which makes this our Patronal Festival.  Some Christians from other traditions are often a little puzzled as to why Anglican, Catholic and Orthodox Christians tend to name their churches after saints.  The Roman Catholic church's most famous building is of course St Peter's in Rome.  The Orthodox have St Basil's in Moscow.  We Anglicans also have famous cathedrals with patron saints, like St Paul's.  The most famous St Mark's is probably the great basilica in Venice - with its magnificent bell tower that stands over the St Mark's Piazza.  But to Methodists, Baptists, Free Church people, Charismatics and many others - this naming of churches after a person is rather puzzling.

So why do we do this?  After all, we are the church of Jesus Christ aren't we?  Are we worshipping St Mark instead of Jesus?  Well, of course not!  Mark is only a patron - and example of a life that was transformed by faith - which we are encouraged to follow.

NOTE:  The following section (in light grey) was not in fact preached...it was rather too long for the time I had available!  However, I've included it here as background information about the practice of praying to saints.

Let's start with this word 'patron'.  What is a patron?  In the times when nations were ruled by Kings and Emperors, a patron was someone you knew who had the ear of the King.  Perhaps you wanted a special favour - maybe a reduction in your taxes, or a judgement in some dispute that you were having with a neighbour. But security was high around your King.  Only a few people could actually get close to the King - and you were not one of the lucky few.  So you would ask your patron to raise your case with the King on your behalf.


The idea of patron saints is linked to that idea.  It comes from an earlier time, and an earlier understanding about how heaven was constructed.  Ancient peoples read the biblical descriptions of heaven as a sort of court...and began to take them literally.  Heaven was seen in the popular mind as being a spiritual version of the kind of courts which existed on earth.  


Consider one of the open verses of the book of Job, for example.  Job is believed to be probably the very oldest book of the bible.  In verse 6 of chapter one we read, "One day, the heavenly beings came to present themselves before the Lord, and Satan also came with them".  Presenting yourself before a great ruler was exactly what happened in an earthly court.  Consider the famous opening of Isaiah's vision of God in the Temple, from Isaiah Chapter 6:  "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and his train filled the temple".  


(That doesn't mean that God had a giant train set...it means - for example - the kind of train that brides have trailing behind them, or that monarchs have as they walk through Westminster Abbey to their coronation.)


So in the popular mind, a thought began to arise:  "how can I, a humble farmer or peasant hope to have my prayers heard by God in the heavenly court?  After all, I wouldn't be able to get near my earthly King.  Why on earth should I be able to get anywhere near God Almighty?"  From that thought - that instinctive humility of most of the world - arose the idea of a patron saint.  The logic was inescapable.  If earthly Kings had special advisers and friends at court, who could act as patrons for ordinary people - surely God would do the same?  Now who would these special advisers and friends be?  Well, of course, they would be people who had lived the holiest lives.  They would be the people whom the church had declared to be Saints.  And perhaps Angels too.


And so, people began to pray to particular saints - especially those whose life stories suggested that they would be sympathetic to the cause of the person who was praying. Jesus had taught that his followers were his body - and so the lives of particular saints reflected aspects of Jesus back to those still on earth.  


Fishermen began to pray to St James - because he had been a fisherman.  Mothers prayed to Mary - because she was a mother herself, and the mother of the Lord in his earthly incarnation.  Carpenters and artisans prayed to St Joseph - Jesus' earthly father.  If you were sick, you might pray to St Luke - because he was a physician.  And so on. Essentially the prayers all said the same thing...though dressed up in posh language.  "Oh Saint so-and-so.  You understand better than anyone else the problems I'm having - because you had the same problem when you were alive.  Please would you speak to the Lord for me...and ask him to sort out my problem".


Praying to saints has never been about worshipping those saints themselves - at least not officially.  The Church has always taught that a prayer to a saint is always no more than asking a saint to be your patron in the Court of Heaven - to add their prayers to yours in the hope that God will answer them.  Some people who converted from religions with lots of Gods often preferred to pray to saints...and sometimes confused the saints with God.  But officially - that has never been permitted.  The church does not permit the worship of saints...only prayers to them.


This is partly about an understanding that we who are alive on Earth are part of a much larger body of Christians who are also alive in heaven.  The 'church militant here below' is united through prayer and praise with what is called the 'church triumphant' in heaven.  By remembering, and asking the help of prominent Christians who have died, we are, in fact, acknowledging that Christ has defeated death - and that this existence on earth is just a small part of our eternal destiny as children of God.  Those who have died are anything but lost...in fact they are closer to God than we are...more alive, more energised by the Spirit of God then we could imagine.


Our modern understanding of saints, at least in the protestant tradition, has somewhat shifted.  We are perhaps less inclined to think of God as sitting on a literal throne - but rather to embrace him as the 'Father' that Jesus described God to be.  We know, because Jesus taught us this, that we can pray directly to God - to 'Our Father in heaven'.  But there is still much of value in the old tradition of engaging with the saints of the past.

(NOTE: The sermon as preached resumed from here)

I could go on rather more about this topic - because I do find it rather interesting!  We could think about why certain saints are more popular than others. We could talk about the attitude of different branches of the church to the whole practice.  We could discuss the Orthodox practice of prayer to icons...but enough is probably enough!  Perhaps these are ideas we could explore in our forthcoming study-evenings about prayer.

Let's instead ask ourselves about St Mark.  After all, he was chosen for us, by our forebears, to be our patron in this parish.  What was in the mind of our forefathers when they chose St Mark to be the new church in the new town of North End?  Why St Mark?  Why a Lion as an emblem?

St Mark - or St John Marcus as he was known - was the author of St Mark's Gospel.  He is first mentioned in Chapter 12 of the Acts of the Apostles, where he is identified as a travelling companion of St Paul.  Later, according to church tradition, he became a disciple of St Peter when Peter was in Rome.  It has always been believed that Mark was essentially Peter's biographer - and that his Gospel is a writing down of stories about Jesus that were told by Peter.

Mark was a rather controversial figure.  He was the centre of quite a debate between Paul and Barnabus, leading to Paul and Barnabus separating and going in different directions in the work of the Gospel.  Later, according to tradition, Mark made a real pain of himself in the city of Alexandria - where his constant preaching and insistence that the citizens of Alexandria should turn away from their Greek gods led to him being martyred.  According to one of a number of traditions, he was attached to a horse and dragged through the streets until dead - but not before he had founded what is today called the Coptic Orthodox Church.  St Mark's bones - his 'relics' are said to reside in St Mark's Church in Venice.

Mark's traditional emblem, as you will know only too well, is a Lion.  I have to tell you that Emily was particularly excited to learn that when we first came to St Mark's - being somewhat of a Lion King fan!  A winged Lion was chosen for St Mark because his Gospel speaks most eloquently of the royal divinity of Christ...and the lion has always been seen as a royal figure.  It is also said that the Lion was chosen because Mark's Gospel uniquely begins with the story of John the Baptist, who, like a distant lion was described as the voice crying the in the wilderness.

So what are the themes which emerge about our patron from these stories?

First of all, I'd say, Mark was obviously a thinker.  He thought deeply about Jesus, and about what it meant to be his follower.  He clearly thought long and hard about what Peter had taught him about Jesus, before writing it down in his Gospel.  Sometimes that thinking got him into trouble - and he ended up being the cause of one of the first splits in the church - between Paul and Barnabus.  And that is always a danger when people start to use their God given minds to try to understand the ways of God.  The history of the church, and all its splits, is essentially a history of ideas.  People who use their minds will often find themselves at odds with people who prefer to approach God at a more instinctive level - or who are willing to simply accept what they've been taught, without thinking about it.

There is not a lot we can do about that.  We are encouraged, by the First Commandment of Jesus, to worship God with all our mind, as well as our body and our souls.  It is sad that some people are not prepared to do the hard work of thinking about God.  It's especially sad when we look around North End and see that for many people, thinking about who they might vote to be the next Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz is about as far as intellectual pursuit goes!  God has given us the wonderful instrument of a brain...Mark, our patron, encourages us by his example to use it.

Secondly, Mark was obviously an evangelist.  The word 'evangelist' stems from a Greek word meaning 'good news'.  Mark passionately told people what God had accomplished through Jesus.  He was passionate enough to write a whole book about it - his Gospel.  He was passionate enough to spend months and years travelling around the known world to tell people about it.  He was so passionate about it, that he ended up being silenced by the people of Alexandria who killed him - but he also succeeded in founding a church which still exists in very much the form that he founded it.

Again, this is a message for us.  Our Gospel reading this morning contained those warning words from Jesus, that "all men will hate you because of me" (Mark: 13:13). Telling people what they don't want to hear is never popular.  Did you hear the story in the news of the three people who had imprisoned and repeatedly beaten a man with mental health problems?  Their 'home video' showing them repeatedly hitting their victim, Michael Gilbert was simply horrific.  Theirs was an extreme example of what happens to people who cut themselves off from the love of God.

But many people cut themselves off from God in much less dramatic ways.  Some worship money, and greedily accumulate all they can...forgetting that they can't take it with them to the 'heavenly court'.  Some live in ways that refuse to seek forgiveness and reconciliation with those who have done them wrong...and end up perpetuating feuds and even wars which ruin the lives of millions.  To all such people, and even for the simply lazy, the Gospel is a challenge - often a deeply unwelcome challenge.  The Gospel is good news to those who are being saved.  To others, its a nuisance and even a threat.

The last quality of St Mark which tends to shine through is his tenacity.  Here is a man who, once he had been convinced of the resurrection of Christ, dedicated his entire life to the service of Christ.  He kept on - travelling the length and breadth of his world - writing, teaching, preaching, goading, establishing the good news about Jesus wherever he went.

Mark's example encourages us to do the same.  The Church which names him as our patron in the 'heavenly court' can do no less.  Church, for us, is never about simply spending a couple of hours together on a Sunday - and then forgetting all about God for the rest of the week.  The Church of St Mark is the place where the people of God come together to celebrate what God is doing in our lives, to lift our eyes up from the day to day for a short while, to enjoy the fellowship of other people who have the same love for God.    But the Church of St Mark is more...its the place where we think about our faith, as St Mark did. In Paul's words, from our second reading, our task is to "become mature, attaining to the whole measure of Christ".  Then, Paul goes on, "we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.  Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the head, that is Christ."   (Eph 4: 13-15)

And finally, following Mark's example,  the Church of St Mark is the place from which we go forth with the same tenacity of our patron.  To quote Winston Churchill - whose metaphor can so easily be turned to the task of the Gospel..."we will never surrender".  We will never surrender to the mediocrity of a consumer society.  We will never surrender to the lies of capitalism, or the false promises of communism.  We will never stop declaring that the Kingdom of God is the only way of living which offers any real hope to humanity.  Like roaring lions in the desert wilderness, we will keep on speaking of the value of love, forgiveness, generosity and charity.  We will keep on telling the story of the Lord who died for us, but rose again so that we might know that all eternity waits for us.

For, as Mark would undoubtedly have declared:  Alleluia! Christ is risen!

Doubting Thomas: Never Say Never Again

Back in 1983, the movie world was stunned when Sean Connery decided to reprise his role as James Bond. He was by that time decidedly middle aged - and had not played Bond since 1971. Movie-legend has it that after he finished filming for 'Diamonds are Forever' he said to his wife "never again". But she was horrified, and replied "no - never say 'never again'!"

The title of the 1983 movie was a bit of a joke at Connery's own expense.  It was a way of him recognising that he had been a bit rash in his original statement.

And that's something I think we've probably all done at one time or another, isn't it?  I know I have.

A couple of weeks ago you might remember that I introduced a visitor to you.  His name was Jeff Harvey - and Jeff is currently the Deputy Warden of Readers - or Licensed Lay Ministers as we now call them.  Jeff and I go way back...right back to the days when I was a young and somewhat naive evangelical at St Luke's Church in Southsea.  In those days, St Luke's Vicar, at the time, was extremely suspicious of the more catholic wing of the Church.  Communion was only celebrated once a month, during an evening service - and used to be celebrated on an old collapsible card-table, without any silver-ware.  No-one ever wore robes during worship - and the Vicar himself only rarely wore a clerical collar.  Candles were absolutely forbidden - as being rather too 'popish'.   In those days, Jeff was assigned to St Luke's as part of his training to be a Reader - but he came from a rather more catholic background.  I remember him being rather puzzled by the Vicar's choices - and he would often pull the Vicar's leg.

When Jeff visited us a couple of weeks ago, he had a rather wry smile on his face throughout the service - as he watched me dress up in these robes, light candles and embrace all the drama of our liturgy.  After the service, he took the opportunity to pull my leg; "Do you remember," he asked, "how you once said that you would never been seen dead in a cassock?"

He was right of course.  I've changed....or rather, I think, God has led me on a path of change.  I am a very different liturgist than I was even 10 years ago.  I'm a very different theologian too - I now have a much less 'black and white' version of Christianity in my head.  Mind you - I don't claim that the way I lead worship now is the way God has told me to do it.  I'm not claiming that our way of worship is any better than, say, evangelical or pentecostal ways.  In fact, as you know, we are going to worship in a much more relaxed, modern style during this evening's service.  No - I don't claim that 'my way is God's preferred way'.  I simply say that at this time, in this situation, with these people - it feels about right.

What I am not going to say is "never"..."never", in other words, "will we do things differently".  And that is because, I think, God has a way of turning round people who make such pronouncements...and of reminding them that this is God's world...not theirs!

That was certainly the experience - the painful, embarrassing experience - that Thomas had.  When Peter and the other disciples told him that they had seen Jesus raised from the dead, his response was pretty unambiguous, wasn't it?  "Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe".  In other words -"never - I'll never believe what you tell me...unless I see it with my own eyes". (John 20: 25)

Just imagine the embarrassment he felt when Jesus appeared to him in that upper room!  He must have felt like an absolute idiot!  "Why did I say I would never believe?!  What a fool I was?!  Why didn't I believe my friends?!"

And Jesus is pretty stern with Thomas as well.  "Have you believed because you have seen me?" (John 20: 29).  You can almost hear an 'harrumph' from Jesus!  "What?  You only believe because I'm here?  Don't you trust your friends and your brothers with whom you've been living all these months?  I'm not very impressed!...Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe".

You see, the thing about Jesus is that he has a way of over-turning all our expectations.  His whole life-story is one of apparent contradictions to the way that others expected he should act.  He was born in a stable, not a palace.  He ate and drank with sinners, not the religious leaders.  He taught about love and forgiveness - even towards the Roman occupiers.  He rode into town on a donkey, not a gleaming white war horse.  He allowed himself to be murdered by the state, instead of calling down legions of angels to protect him.  He stubbornly refused to stay dead...and rose up from the grave.

Jesus overturns our expectations - just as he overturned Thomas' expectations.  Thomas expected that he could cling to the notion of empirical evidence - that he could depend only on his eyes and his own sense of touch in order to establish what was true.  And that is the fundamental mistake that is made by so many people today...people like the now infamous Richard Dawkins, and other prominent secular atheists.

Atheists make a basic error every time that they say they can 'never' believe in a God.  They make the mistake of assuming that because God cannot be proven to exist by any kind of scientific method, that the whole notion of God must be false.  They fail, utterly, to understand that man's greatest wisdom (including scientific wisdom) is as foolishness to God.  (See 1 Corinthians 1:25).  They fail to understand that God cannot be proven by scientific method, because God is beyond and above and outside of all such 'touching' and 'seeing'.  God is the source of all that has been created - and while we believe that he fills all the Universe with creative energy, God is separate from all that God has made. Above it.  Beyond it.  Outside of it. We should not be surprised that God cannot be found in a test tube - God doesn't want to be found in a test tube.  Instead, God wants us to connect with him through our souls, through our spirits - through the essential essence of what it means to be God's own creation.  God wants us, like Thomas, to discover God with the eyes of faith, and the hands of trust.

Why should that be?  Why should Jesus say to Thomas that it is those who believe without seeing who are blessed?  Wouldn't it be easier for God to make himself touchable, scientifically prove-able?

Well, perhaps it would...initially.  But the problem is that in order to be the dynamic, ever-changing world that we experience, the world needs to be constantly on the move.  To quote that wonderful old hymn; "Change and decay in all around I see...Thou changest not, O Lord, Abide with Me."

If God could somehow be scientifically reduced down to a substance that could be seen in a test tube - it would not be God.  God is as far above such reductionism as the sun is above the earth.  God is far more than anything which can been seen or touched.

That's one of the reasons why the Church, and the Hebrew Nation before us, has been so cautious about images, statues and pictures.  It is too easy to confuse the created with the Creator.  Those who worship Mother Earth make the same mistake.  The Earth is not our Mother - it is only a kind of created womb of our actual Mother, who is God.  As soon as God gets reduced down to this object, or that thing, our sense of the incredible power of God becomes compressed.  God cannot and should not be reduced down to that kind of thinking.  God does not want our picture of him to be limited to anything physical.  He is greater than everything he has made.

The Temple Curtain was torn symbolically in two at the death of Jesus.  This was precisely because God wanted his people to understand that God does not live in a box in a room.  God does not confine himself to a Temple, or even to a Nation.  God is the Creative Love behind the whole of the Universe.  He cannot be touched, or seen - except, in a sense, during that brief time when he was most physically present among us in the body of Jesus of Nazareth.  God cannot be touched with fingers, or seen with eyes.  He can only be believed in.  And those who are able to make that leap from the scientific to the spiritual, from the physical to the ethereal, from matter to the source of all life...they are the ones who Jesus calls 'blessed'.  They are the ones whose spiritual antennae have been turned on.  They are the ones who have learned to go deep and wide when looking for God.

So what does this mean for us - in our daily lives, and in our life as a church?

For our life as a church it means that we must 'never say never again'!  In other words, we must learn, in Rowan William's words, that all our language about God must be provisional...it must always be open to being shaped and changed by the God who is outside of all human methods of proof.  It means never saying that we could never do things differently.  It means never saying that we could never change our view about what God is like.  It means accepting that the way we worship, the way we pray, the way we use our time and our money in the service of God must always remain open to the reality of God.

In our daily lives, it means growing in our attentiveness to God in all aspects of our life.  God is not tied down by our decisions, or even by our circumstances.  God has the capacity to break-through even the hardest of situations that life has thrown at us.  He can heal, because he is beyond all human capacity to heal.  He can comfort, because he is beyond human systems of support.  He can challenge, because he is greater than all human challenges.  He can change our minds about priorities, life-style choices, jobs and political allegiances - because he is beyond all such limitations.

God can neither be touched, nor seen...and yet God is present with us in every circumstance of life.  God cannot be boxed or sold - and yet he is the ultimate manufacturer.  God cannot be seen, and yet he is the light.  He cannot be touched, and yet he is the ultimate ground of all being.

At the end of the day, we can, and should, do no more and no less than our brother Thomas the Twin - fall on our knees as cry out, "My Lord and My God".

Amen

Wait a minute! A Sermon for Advent

Luke 1:39-55 The Magnificat

This sermon was preached during Advent (the period before Christmas).  I've only just noticed that I had not got round to publishing it.  Apologies to all!

Every morning, in my house, there is a small ritual that unfolds. The ritual revolves around whichever one of us gets up first. It's the ritual of feeding the animals.

For some reason which eludes me, our house has become home to one dog, two cats and other assorted small furry creatures. It's got something to do with my daughter, I suspect. Anyhow - assuming I'm the first one up, this is what happens. I stagger out of bed, bleary eyed and desperate for caffeine. In the blessed, halcyon days before animals, I could just about manage to switch on the kettle, and make a coffee. But these days, a river of animals follow me all around the kitchen...scrounging for breakfast.

"Meow! Feed me!!" "Whine Whine...come on! I'm hungry." 6 eyes watch my every move as I open the fridge or the cupboard. "What's that? Is that mine? Go on... I could eat a biscuit. Actually I could eat a truck-load of biscuits." In vain I try to do a bit of washing up...to find myself a clean cup for my coffee. "Do you want that bit of baked-bean juice? On that dish cloth? I could lick that off for you if you like. There's a lot of goodness in cold baked bean juice"

It's not just the whining. They get under your feet. Many's the time I've ended up kicking the cat or the dog, just because I'm trying to make my way from one side of the kitchen to the other through a sea of furry bodies. Or they jump up onto the worktop - sticking their heads in your coffee cup. "What's that you've got in there? Milk eh? I like milk. Can I have some milk? Go on!"

If you could hear a recording of the morning ritual in the Kennar household, it would sound something like this: Meow! Whine! Meow! "Wait a minute!" Meow, Whine, "Look, just hang on...get off...get out of the way will you?" Meow! Whine! St Francis would have been very proud of me!

You see, the trouble with animals is that they don't know how to wait. It’s no good trying to persuade them to sit still and wait for a minute. They want feeding...and they want it now! They have no idea about the concept of waiting.

And unfortunately...neither does the human race.

Back in the 1980s or 90s, the rock band Queen recorded a song which summed up the mood of the time. It was released about the same time as the comedian Harry Enfield created his satirical character 'Mr Loads-a-money'. Queen's track was called "I want it all" - and the chorus had these words:

"It ain't much I'm asking, if you want the truth
Here's to the future, hear the cry of youth
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all and I want it now!
I want it all, I want it all, I want it all and I want it now!"

Wait a minute! It seems that the youth of the 80s that Queen were singing about have grown up into the bankers and celebrities of today. "I want it all" is the cry of aspiration for so many people. I want the fast car. I want the holidays in exotic places. I want the plasma screen. I want the Playstation. I want the latest fashion - a new outfit for every occasion, a new pair of shoes for every party. I want food in immense proportions. I want buckets of alcohol to pour down my neck. I want 20,000 music tracks on my mp3 player. I want to party every weekend! Meow! Meow! Whine! I want. I want. I want....

Wait a minute!!

There have been many ways of ordering our society over the centuries. The early Greeks had a form of democracy, in which leading citizens could vote for new laws. Socrates proposed a system of 'philosopher kings' - rulers who would be trained to rule from birth, but not allowed to benefit financially from their rulership. We've had Empires. We've had monarchies. We've had the Holy Roman Empire, and we've had one-person-one-vote Democracy. We've had military dictatorships, and we've had Communism. But, wait a minute. Which type of Government is it that has finally won? It's the Government of 'I want it now'. To give it its proper name - it's the Government of Consumerism.

No longer are we citizens of a nation, or even a planet, with responsibilities to one another. Instead we are now consumers - who vote for whichever Government will give us the best chance to consume the things we want. Just think about that for a moment. We will have a General Election next year in this country. What would the chances be for a political party which stated, in its manifesto, that it was going to give away 10% of the country's wealth to the poorer countries of the world. Just 10%. Doesn't sound like much, does it? And it's a perfectly biblical principle. And yet the foreign aid budget of the United Kingdom for this year is just about 1%. We spend nearly 700 Billion pounds on ourselves. And we send about 6.5billion pounds to the poorest nations of the world.

Wait a minute! That would be like me spending £700 on a new plasma TV, and then giving £6.50 to Christian Aid.

We are teaching our children that the most important thing in life is to work hard, pass exams, and get a good job...so that they can buy stuff. That's about it. That's the basic message of western society today. All the things we could be teaching our children in school are falling by the wayside. There is no longer time in the school curriculum to learn much about art, music, philosophy, poetry, sport or religion...all the things that have given our society their depth and their meaning until now.

Ask any teacher, and they will tell you that they are bound by tick-boxes and testing, all designed to turn out identi-kit kids who can fill the factories and offices of our consumer society. Where are the next generation of thinkers? Where is the next generation of philosophers? Where are the opportunities that many of us had - the opportunities for exchange visits with other countries, or for long days out in the hills with our teachers, or visits to local churches to hear about the spiritual questions of life. There's no time in the curriculum anymore. Just like the shelves of the supermarket, our kids are being wrapped, packed and stacked ready for their role in keeping the consumer-wheel turning.

And so many of our kids will end up on that consumer wheel. They will learn, from an early age that it is their right to possess anything they desire. They will demand the latest toys - and be given them. They will demand the latest gadget, the latest fashion, the latest music...and will go out and get them.

Last year I had the privilege of marrying a very young couple. They were a lovely pair - just starting out in life. One of the questions I always ask young couples is whether they have discussed the topic of children. (It's always a good idea to make sure that they have the same view about whether or not they want kids!). This particular couple said that yes, they had talked about it. And yes, they would like kids. But not yet. "Why not yet?", I asked. "Because we have to save up for a bigger house first. This house has only got two bedrooms...we couldn't bring a child into this house could we?"

As I say - they were a lovely couple. But like so many - they had completely bought into the consumer dream. They simply couldn't conceive of having children in a house with only two bedrooms - because that would mean that there would be no spare room for when family came to stay. They were already both working full-time - for as much as 6 days a week - to afford the mortgage on their modest little home. But, rather than scale-back their expectations in order to bring a new life into their family, they were going to work even harder, even more over-time, even more hours...just to have a bigger house.

Wait a minute! That's the problem with consumerism. Its fine for those who have the cash...but it creates a way of thinking which drives everyone into thinking that they have got to live by the same standards. Anyone who doesn't have a plasma TV is thought of as old fashioned. Anyone who doesn't have a new dress for every party is thought of as 'frumpy'. Anyone who doesn't buy the latest pop album to come out is 'out of date'. Anyone who doesn't work every hour God sends in order to buy more stuff is thought of as lazy and work-shy. As a result, everyone know has credit card debts which shackle them to multi-national corporations. They couldn’t choose to live differently if they wanted to…because the credit card bill has got to be paid!

The very idea that someone might use some of their life to read books, or look after children at home, or grow their own vegetables, or attend a church. That's all just a waste of time for so many people...time which could be spent on e-bay, or at work, making money...buying and selling stuff.

And yet...wait a minute…we've been shown a different way. Mary's song - the Magnificat - which we just heard in our Gospel reading, sets out an entirely different agenda for our planet.

"(God) has performed mighty deeds with his arm; he has scattered the proud in their inmost thoughts. He has brought down rulers from their thrones and has lifted up the humble. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away."

This is Mary's summary of the whole of the Bible until that point - and her assumption of what Jesus', her baby's message to the world will be.

This baby won't be born in a two bedroomed house, or a three bedroomed one...or even in a royal palace. This baby will be born in a animal shelter. And laid in a food trough.

This baby won't be taught to gain stuff. As part of Jewish tradition, this baby will be taught to give stuff away - 10% of everything he earns, and generosity to everyone he meets.

This baby won't be given hundreds of pounds of plastic toys for Christmas – made of precious oil, dragged out of the ground and sent to China, to be made into toys, to be shipped to England, to be wrapped in more plastic, put under a plastic Christmas tree, to be played with for a day or two, then forgotten in a cupboard until it is thrown away in another plastic bag, and shipped off to China again to be buried in a land-fill.

Instead, this baby will receive three very special and significant gifts. A little gold - to acknowledge his royalty. A little frankincense to acknowledge that he is God. A little myrhh - to foreshadow his death.

This baby won't be a king. He'll be a pauper. He won't sit on a throne...he'll stand in the fields and the streets and declare a new way of living.

This baby won't be a friend to prime ministers and emperors, celebrities and bankers. He'll be a friend to the poor and the sick and to those who are searching for Truth.

And over time, throughout the generations, he will slowly but surely begin to turn the world upside down. In due course, he will put down the mighty, and exalt the humble and lowly. He will fill the hungry with good things...and the rich he will send empty away.

But wait a minute…when will he do this? When will this new order take place? When will consumerism and greed give way to wisdom and generosity? When will the rich be brought down? Many of us thought the time might be coming this year, as bankers were temporarily halted in their tracks. But the bonuses are back. The City has bounced back. Consumerism wins again.

I don't know the answer to that question. When will Jesus' just, merciful, generous, giving rule be established? Perhaps he will physically return - "riding on the clouds" as the Bible so poetically puts it.

Or perhaps the real exaltation of the humble and meek takes place at the moment of death. Perhaps it is then that we discover the real value of lives built on stuff. Perhaps it is when we meet our God, face to face, that we discover which parts of our life had the most meaning. Was it the hours we slaved in order to buy things? Or was it the time we gave to other people, and the hand we offered to the needy? Was it the hours we spent in front of the X-Factor or Strictly - or the hours we spent raising money for the refugees of Bangladesh? Was it the huge bill we just paid to Tescos for our Christmas shopping, or the £5 voucher we gave to the Churches Homeless Action appeal for the homeless in Portsmouth? Which of these will be the decisions by which we will want to be judged when we meet the baby born in the stable?

Unlike my cats and dogs, we will have to wait to learn the answer to those questions. But I know which path I am called to follow...however much I stumble and fail with the pressure of consumerism upon me. What about you?

Amen

Good Friday - It's All about the Story

This sermon was preached at the Good Friday Vigil at St Mark's on Good Friday 2010.  It was preceeded by the following readings from Scripture:


1 Cor 1: 18-25
1 John 3: 13-18
1 Peter 2: 19-25
2 Cor 5: 17-20


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There is nothing new about terrorism.

It’s almost as old as the human race. The country we now call Iraq, was once the home of some of the nastiest bully-boys in history - known as the Assyrians.  When the Assyrians set out to conquer their neighbours, they needed to use a terror-tactic that would frighten those who had conquered...frighten them SO much they they would accept slavery.  For many conquered people, death was a preferred option to slavery...so the Assyrians found a way of executing people that was so horrible, so painful, that conquered people would accept their new status as slaves, rather than have to die in such a horrible way.

It was called crucifixion - and it proved to be a very effective terror tactic indeed!

Then, centuries later, along comes the Roman Empire.  It was the policy of the Romans to examine all aspects of a society which they conquered, and then adopt the most useful aspects into their own society.  The Romans found that crucifixion was an excellent tool of intimidation - so they adopted it...and used it to threaten and maintain control over the nations they had conquered.

Crucifixion involved being stripped naked, and then being hung up to die a long, slow, painful death in a public place.  For the Jews, the pain wasn't so much the issue.  Pain is bad enough...but the humiliation of being naked in public for days on end was perhaps even worse.  Jews were the people who gave us the story of Adam and Eve, whose first act on starting to think for themselves was to sew fig leaves together, to cover their nakedness.  Jews hated nakedness.  And perhaps we can sympathise with them.  What would you feel like if you were stripped naked, and then forced to stand in the middle of North End?

Incidentally, crucifixion was deemed so horrible that Romans wouldn't use it on themselves.  Roman law forbade Crucifixion to be carried out on a Roman citizen, even a traitor. It was reserved only for slaves and conquered peoples.  Crucifixion was such a degrading, humiliating punishment that for centuries, Christians didn't use the cross as a symbol at all.  It was so awful to contemplate, so humiliating.  Early Christian pictures of Jesus showed him in the guise of a Shepherd, or as the King of Kings.  Never on a cross.

Slowly, however, crucifixion fell out of fashion, and with the rise of the Christian Church as a power in the Roman  Empire, it was eventually made illegal.  Then, as the awful reality of crucifixion began to fade from the public consciousness, the image of a cross became somewhat less awful to contemplate.

Alongside that, the image of a cross itself was, in fact, a very old religious symbol.  The Egyptians had used it, and so had many other societies.  It was a simple symbol which demonstrated an intersection between heaven and earth - a simple way of demonstrating the notion that God is connected to us, and we to God.  St Paul used a similar idea in our last reading, just know (2 Cor 5: 17-20) when he talked about us being 'reconciled' to God by the Cross.  Sometimes crosses were used to illustrate the four 'elements' - earth, air, fire and water - a reminder of the way that all of life is interconnected.

So, Christians began to use that ancient symbol of God and of nature, and use it to speak of Jesus.  In fact, throughout the centuries, the Christian Church,  has been very clever at taking ancient festivals, ideas and symbols - and relating them to the life of Jesus.

Now, we see crosses everywhere.  They are used as earings and jewellery, we see them on T-shirts and handbags, key-rings and tatoos...small signs of some kind of belief in God.  They have lost that primal power as a sign of searing pain and torture.  Which is perhaps a good thing.  Instead of pain, the cross now represents hope to the modern mind.  It is no longer a sign of humiliation and death, something to feel frightened and ashamed of.  Instead it is sign of God, and a sign of hope.  Perhaps we can even learn from some of those ancient societies - and begin to see the cross again as a sign of the way God reaches into human life and transforms it.

Last year, at this Good Friday service, we used a series of readings which helped us to get some idea of what the reality of Roman crucifixion was like.  I'm sure that those of you who were here will remember the reading of a doctor's account of the pain - of how fluid would fill the lungs of the crucified victim, and the excruciating pain of the sagging weight of the body on the wrists, nailed into wood.  That was fine.  It was, I hope, both interesting and moving. I hope it helped us to realise what Jesus went through, unwillingly but obediently, for us and for all humanity.

But this year, I'm inviting us to move away from focusing on the horror of the actual event, and to focus instead on the meaning of that event.  We've heard four readings, from different New Testament writers - each of whom was attempting to grapple with the meaning of what Jesus accomplished on the cross.  Every story has meaning, and every good story can have multiple layers of meaning.  Our task as 'theologians' - people who talk about God - is to grapple with those layers of meaning.

We started with Paul, writing to the Corinthians, who commented that the Cross is what he called 'foolishness' to those who are perishing.  Paul is saying, effectively, "Look, I know that it doesn't make any sense.  How can putting the Son of God to death have any effect on us?  To any normal person, the Cross looks like a defeat for God - not a victory.  And yet,"  Paul is saying, "what appears to be foolishness to ordinary people, is in fact wisdom."

Throughout his letters, like other New Testament writers, Paul uses many different images and phrases to try to get a handle on the meaning of this particular story.  He talks about 'redemption' - the idea that somehow Jesus' death has purchased us - like redeeming a sort of promise, a kind of voucher that has been held in trust through the centuries.  Elsewhere he talks about Jesus death as being like a ransom paid to a terrorist - buying us out of the hands of danger (or in Paul's mind, the power of Satan).  Other writers, especially, John, talks about Jesus' death being punishment that we deserved, which because of his love for his earthly children, God decided to inflict on his own Son, even his own self.

But, all of these ideas - and the many others that the Christian Church has grappled with over the years - all of them are just trying to comprehend the incomprehensible.  As Paul himself says in the passage we heard, "God's foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God's weakness is stronger than human strength" (1 Cor 1:25).  Anyone who tells you that they understand exactly what the significance of the Cross is...they are a fool.  Don't listen to anyone who pretends to themselves that they are wise enough to know the mind of God.  Don't listen to anyone who says they are wise enough to have understood all the intricate details of what took place on that Good Friday.

Instead...let the story speak to your soul.  Grab hold of some of the ideas...ransom, redemption, paying the price, signing a new covenant in blood, Christ the sacrificial lamb, Christ the supreme moral example...take them all, and let them sink into your soul.  Let them speak to you of a God who will go to the very end of life for you.  Let them speak of a God who is prepared to be tortured for you.  Let the stories shriek about the  inhumanity that human beings are capable of...human beings who are prepared to murder someone whose only crime was to call us to love God and love one another.  Let the story inspire you, let it sadden you, let it outrage you...let it stimulate you to lead a life that is like that life...a life of total self-emptying.  A life that looks for the good in others, and draws it out.  A life that is given, continually, daily, in service of others.

In a moment, the Choir are going to sing the Lenten Prose - an ancient song of mourning for the way that our lives are so often less glorious than Jesus' life.  Its a song of lamentation - of sorrow for the way that we have lived, and which asks God to forgive us, and give us what the Prose calls 'loving absolution'.  After that, I'm going to invite you to come forward and tie the red ribbon you've been given to this ugly, wired covered cross.  As you do so, let me encourage you to pause - take a moment to re-commit yourselves to the central message of the Story of the Cross - re-committing yourself, your energies, your resources, your money, your time, your talents, your skills to living the life of Christ.

In the last of our readings, Paul taught us that somehow, mysteriously, we are 'in' Christ. Somehow, mysteriously, God's foolishness on the Cross, foolishness that is higher than the greatest heights of human wisdom - that foolishness reconciles us to God.  Christ is in us.  We are in Christ.  By his death, Jesus somehow absorbs us into himself, he 'reconciles' us, he heals us.  The Orthodox Church teaches that he somehow deifies us - helping us to live as we were created to live...as people who were created in the likeness of God.

Let that be the picture that you take away with you today - the picture of your life being joined inextricably to God's life.  Let God be the first breath you take in the morning, and the last breath as you lay down to sleep. Begin to live as people whose whole existence is infused by God, and with the things of God.

Then, together, we might really begin to know and comprehend the power of the Story of the Cross.


 

 

Another Treasure in a Clay Jar!

In my previous Lent Talk (click here to read it!) I talked about my love of Philosophy.  It's something that, as Di said last week, 'floats my boat'.  It's something that nurtures and sustains my faith.

I wonder whether you've noticed the differences between the subjects that float my boat, and those that help Di and Bev stay afloat.  Let's recap on what we've heard so far in this series.  Bev has shared her love of Celtic Spirituality - a sense of deep connectedness with the earth and with creation.  Then there has been her practise of meditation, which sustains her body, mind and soul.  Di has shared her passion for silent contemplation - looking for the flash of the kingfisher in her patient quest of God.  Both of their passions have been deep-down passions - they have been passions that feed the gut, which speak to something deep within.

On the other hand, what did I give you?  Philosophy!  That's a passion which can touch the inner core - the deep-down...but essentially its a passion of the mind.  Philosophy - the love of wisdom (as I'm sure you remember) is ultimately a quest for what is true.

Bev and Di and I were reflecting on the contrast between our treasures last week. And Bev reminded me that human beings are said to operate on either of the two sides of our brain.  The left side of the brain is the said to be the analytical part of our heads...whereas the right side of the brain deals with the more emotional, felt, experienced aspects of life.  It seems to be the case that women, generally, favour the right side of their brains, whereas men tend to focus on their left.  We must be careful not to over-simplify here - or to pigeon-hole people.  Clearly there are many men and women who naturally operate on the opposite side from what we're told is the case.  But in general, its not a bad observation is it.  Men tend to be interested in how things work, and whether something can be proved or not.  Women tend to be more interested in how something feels, or what the effect is on the inside.

That thought has challenged me this week.  Because I do operate on the right side of my brain sometimes!  I've been wondering which of the other treasures I have inside me I should pull out and reveal.  Perhaps my passion for music? - something which touches my soul on levels that I have no intellectual language for. Perhaps the love I share with my family, which sustains me at a deep and often unconscious level - even when I'm doing battle on the intellectual field of the latest statistical return from the Diocese.  Perhaps, I thought, I could share my passion for science-fiction - which leads me to dream dreams about the future of humanity.  Perhaps my love of gardening - when I get the chance. Perhaps, like Di, the developing passion I have for silent contemplation...but Di has pipped me to the post on that one!

The trouble is, that the more I thought about these right-brain aspects of my life, the more I had to acknowledge that none of them sustain my faith in quite the same way as the treasure I've chosen to bring.  They all sustain me emotionally - they all help me to live life that is rich and meaningful.  But, the treasure I've brought today is, I'm afraid to tell you, much more of a left-brain thing.

Last time I talked about philosophy.  This time, at the severe risk of making you groan, I'm going to talk about theology!

Now - let's get something out of the way at the beginning.  Like the word philosophy, which translates easily as 'love of widsom', the word theology is not something to be scared of.  Like 'philosophy', theology is basically two greek words sandwiched together:  theos (which means God), and "logos' which means 'word'.  So 'theology' is, essentially, 'words about God' - or, 'speaking about God', or even more simply 'God-talk'.

Philosophy helps me to find answers to those big questions we were talking about last time - who am I?  Where did I come from?  Is there a God?  As I told you last time, I have used the tools of philosophy to arrive at a conclusion that there is indeed a God.  But having established that, what comes next?  If you believe in God, the next stage is to ask questions like, 'what is God like then?'.  That's what theology - God-talk - is all about.  It's about asking those kinds of questions.  What is God like?  Where did he come from?  Is he a he?  Or perhaps a 'she'? Or perhaps both?  The questions can go on for ever...who was Jesus then?  Was Jesus God?  Or was he simply a great prophet? - as Muslims believe.

Theology is a subject which has fascinated people for thousands of years.  (I have to admit that most of such people were men!).  Like all investigative work, theology was for centuries classed as a science - such like biology or physics.  In fact, because theology dealt with trying to find out about the Creator of the Universe, it was known until only fairly recently as 'the Queen of Sciences'.  Now, because atheist views are taken far more seriously than before, and because there are less and less people who take the existence of God as a given fact, theology is considered an off-shoot of philosophy'; its one of the 'humanities', rather than a science.

But for most of the last 2000 years, theology dominated academic life in every major civilisation.  Answers to the question 'what is God like?' became the dominating factor for the way that whole societies were structured (and still are, to some extent).

Why is this?

Well, let's play with some theological ideas - and see what happens.  Let's imagine that a group of powerful, influential people decide together that God is like a strict headmaster.  This headmaster is a disciplinarian.  He stands guard over the world, waiting for naughty children to misbehave, so he can whack them with his cane.  But he is also just and fair...and if some of his children are good, he might reward them at the end of term.

That's not such a bad picture for the way that some people see God, is it?  Some people imagine God to be a jealous, angry God who can't wait for the slightest chance to throw them into hell - but who might just forgive them if they say the right words, pray the right prayers, believe the right things.

If that is your picture of God - and if you are a powerful, influential person (like a Bishop, or a Pope, for example) then your picture of God is going to colour everything you say and teach about God.  You are likely to start looking through the Bible very carefully, trying to spot the rules that your flock needs to obey in order to escape the fires of hell.  Sooner or later you fix on a selection of phrases and teachings from the past, and you start to shout them from the roof-top.  "Believe in the Lord Jesus and you shall be saved"!  You then start to lump together everyone who doesn't fit into your picture of what you think God wants...

"Thieves, murderers, adulterers, money-lenders, coveters, those who disobey their parents, those who paint images of God, those who pray to Mary or the Saints, those who put too many actions into the way they celebrate the Eucharist, those who don't believe in women priests, those who do believe in women priests, homosexuals!  You're all going to burn!"


Here, for example, are the words of Jonathan Edwards, a famous evangelical of the early days of the United States. Edwards believed that everybody who is not saved deserves to burn in hell for the sins they have committed, and God is in complete control of when people will be sent to the eternal damnation. He uses a metaphor to describe the situation, saying that "The god that holds you over the pit of Hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire... he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire... thus it will be with you that are in an unconverted state." God views the people who are "unconverted" as spiders, little pests he can do away with at any time, simply by dropping them into the hell that they deserve. He is in absolute control over people's destiny, and as the Great Puppeteer, he can choose when and how people will die. God has great wrath towards people because of their sinful ways, and this is manifested through his practice of dispatching these sinners to burn in hell for eternity.

If you are such a person, and if your picture of God is such a picture, then that's the kind of 'theology' that you are going to display for the world to see.  It will be a theology of certainty - a theology which no-one can disagree with...because if they do, you worry that they'll burn!  It doesn't make you a bad person to believe that.  In fact, you might be a very good, caring person - who is desperately trying, out of pure love, to prevent the awfulness of hell that you fear for your neighbour.

Now let's imagine another group of people.  Let's imagine a group of people whose picture of God is very different.  Their picture of God is that of a Mother.  They see a loving, creative life-giver, who longs to see her children grow and to become all that they can become.  They see a Mother who forgives her children when they muck things up, and who picks them up and cuddles them, saying "That's alright.  I forgive you.  You are loved.  Go on, try again".

What would the preaching of someone who believes in that kind of God be like.  I suggest it will be a rather gentler, less rule-bound, more creative, accepting kind of preaching.

You see, it is important to think about what God is like.  Getting our view of God into the right focus is essential - because it has all sorts of consequences for the way that we will act.

Take for example, the current debate about homosexuality that is taking place in Uganda - a country that is close to my heart.  The Ugandan Government, supported by many Ugandan churches, proposes to introduce a law to not only ban the practise of homosexuality, but to punish active homosexuals with imprisonment and even execution.  Despite international outrage and condemnation, the Ugandan Church and State are united in their view that God condemns homosexuality.

On the other hand, the Bishop of Liverpool, a couple of weeks ago, described homosexual people's position as a 'given', and even as what he called a 'grace' - which is a theological term.  He describes a church in which people of different opinions on this issue can nevertheless learn to drink from a common cup.

Both of these views - the Ugandan view, and the more open evangelical view of the Bishop - are shaped by an understanding of God.  If you believe that God is a a sort of heavenly headmasters, dishing out rules, and punishing the law-breakers...then you are likely to want black and white clear answers on an issue like homosexuality.  If, on the other hand, you see God as a Mother-figure, who loves her children through all the mess and muddle of human life, you are likely to have a very different idea about whether or not something like homosexuality should be condemned.

Our view of God matters.  Our theology matters.  That's why I'm passionate about theology.

Let's pause for a moment and let me ask you to think about what your view of God is like.  Sit in silence for a moment - and ask yourself what kind of picture you would draw if someone asked you to draw God.  Or, if you are not much of an artist - like me - what words would you use to describe God.  (And then we'll share our ideas with each other).

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The trouble with theology is that it is hard work.  And I'm not surprised that some people are scared of dipping their toe into the waters.  There are members of my family who get really fed-up with me when we have another theologian come for dinner.  "Stop talking about theology!" they say.  "It's boring!"

What they mean, of course, is that it is difficult to follow - unless you've started at the beginning.  When I start debating theology with another theologian, we use phrases like 'pre-destination' and 'anti-millenniumism'.  We talk about kerygma and hypostastis.  We get all excited about biblical hermeneutic of fundamentalism...and those around us can get rather glassy eyed.  Now please don't think I'm showing off.  I only know these words, and some of what they mean, because I've taken the time to study them.  That's all it takes.  Some time.  There are thousands of subjects I know nothing about.  If you were to start having a conversation about herbaceous borders or different types of Green or Black-leaf tea - I'd be just as lost.

Doing theology, like any subject worth studying, just takes time and willingness to learn.

And it does matter.  It matters because whole nations, and whole ways of life have been shaped by theological decisions.

Here's an example.  Have you ever wondered how we got our Bible?  I dare-say some of you may have never wondered.  Perhaps you've been brought up simply to believe that the Bible is the Word of God...and that is that.

But where does that idea come from?  Who decided that these words, this particular group of writings, should be bound together and called the Word of God?  What about the documents which they could have included, but didn't?  There are lots more books out in the world than the books of the Bible.  What makes these books, these Scriptures so special.  And who decided?

Let me offer you an answer by posing another imaginary scenario for you.  Imagine that you lived in a world in which there was no Bible...a word in which there were lots and lots of books about God, written by thousands of authors - but no definitive collection of books which authoritatively claimed to be the Word of God.

Now imagine that you picked up a newspaper today, and read that a group of bishops, led by the Prime Minister, had decided that it was time someone decided which of the books about God in the world were true, and which of them were not.  Imagine you read that these Bishops and the Prime Minister had just finished have a meeting.  During that meeting, they looked at all the books about God that had ever been written, and they sorted them into two piles.  One pile was marked 'true', and the other pile was marked 'false'.

Now image that books which were decided to be 'true' descriptions of what God was like had been stuck together - and were being issued as 'the true Word of God'.  Accompanying their publication was an edict that anyone who possessed copies of any other books about God would have them confiscated.  They would be put in prison, and, if they refused to shut up about their ideas of God, they could even be burned at the stake.

Now, ask yourself...would you be confident that the collection of books that the bishops and prime minister had decided on was actually the Word of God?

Or would you be just a little bit suspicious that they might not have chosen completely wisely.

Because that is pretty much exactly how we got our Bible.  Only it wasn't a British Prime Minister who decided to bring all those bishops together, it was a Roman Emperor, called Theodosius, in the 4th Century after Jesus.

What happened to all the other books about God?  Well, most of them were burned.  In fact the Christian Church ordered the burning of the great Library of Athens, which contained the largest collection of writings about God ever seen at that time.  Writings by other believers in God, if they didn't conform to the Church's view of God, were systematically routed out, condemned and burned.

And that's how we got our Bible!

Now again, I want to emphasise, these bishops weren't necessarily bad people.  Let's not imagine that these were all power-hungry megalomaniacs who were trying to control an Empire and unify it under one belief-system.  Let's be generous and say that many of them honestly believed that God wanted them to act in this way.  They thought it was their duty to protect people from the fires of hell.  They acted in good faith.  But did they act wisely?

The problem, I believe, is that these early theologians had forgetten something I said to you earlier.  They had forgotten that theology is a branch of philosophy.  God-talk arises out of loving wisdom.  Unless discovery about God is tempered with wisdom - we can quickly find our way onto a road of fanaticism. Theology gets in trouble unless it stays in a constant dialogue with philosophy, continually going back to the primary questions "what I am I here for?" and, crucially, "how can I be sure that what I think I know is actually true?"

That, I believe, is why the world is now so divided over questions of religion.  Fundamentalists, of every religious hue, are people who - I think - have only ever been taught what to think, not how to think.  The children of fundamentalists are brought-up in madrasas, or a fundamentalist homes, where they are drilled from an early age into believing that their thoughts about God are the only true ones, and everybody else's thoughts are wrong.  Is it any surprise that they quickly move from loving their own ideas about God and hating everyone else's?  Love turns to hate which turns into violence which turns into war.

It's not religion which causes war - it's badly taught God-talk...badly conceived and mis-understood theology.

That's why I'm passionate about Theology and Philosophy.  I believe that the world desperately needs more theological philosophers - who can ask the 'what do I believe' question, but also the 'why do I believe it?' one.

That's why I am hoping that after these two lectures, you might also be interested in learning more about both philosophy and theology!

Mothering Sunday 2010 - The Agony and the Ecstasy

Luke 2: 21-35

When I was a child, I was into go-karts. No...I was really into go-karts...I spent my whole child-hood on go-karts!  Now these weren't motorised, or even pedal powered go-karts.  I mean go-karts made out of bits of wood we found in my Dad's shed, knocked together with any old nails we could find, with ancient, rusty pram-wheels that we picked up from the local tip rubbish tip.  Our go-karts were incredible creations!  We even made one which could carry four people...it had ten wheels...with a main go-kart, plus two trailers!

We lived on a rather steep hill...which I realise might be difficult for you Flatlanders of Portsmouth to conceive! To give you a idea, let me say that it was a hill of similar length and gradient as the one that goes up Portsdown Hill, past QA hospital.  And like that hill, the one I grew up also had a junction at the bottom, on to a main road...which was itself, another hill. Overall, we had a run of over a mile from the top of the hill to the bottom...

My friends and I liked nothing better than to hair down our hill, on wooden go-karts, steered with string. To slow ourselves down before the junction, we would use our rubber Wellington boots as brakes...forcing them against the tarmac to slow our descent a little, before weaving into the traffic on the main road. That meant, of course, that Wellington boots had to be replaced with great regularity!

When I think back on those wonderful childhood days, I remember them with joy. I remember coming home at night, with new holes in my Wellingtons, scrapes and grazes all over my body, exhausted beyond belief...and yet wonderfully happy.

But when I look back on those days more objectively, I find myself asking an uncomfortable question...and one that might have occurred to you already...namely this; while I was careering over a mile down a hill on nothing more than a plank of wood, some pram wheels, a piece of string and my trusty Wellingtons at speeds of up to 30 miles an hour….where on earth was my mother?! (My father, of course, was for the most part out at work).

I asked my mother about this some years later...and learned precisely where she was. She was in our house, keeping out of my way...and terrified out of her wits. At any moment she expected a knock at the door, or a telephone call from the hospital, to say that her son had been discovered in a pile of blood and pram wheels at the bottom of the hill.

So why didn’t she stop me?

I think it was because my Mum was part of that generation which understood that young people don’t grow well when they are rooted to the sofa. She knew that for me to become the exceptionally well rounded human being you see before you - (ahem) - it was important that I had the chance, the free will, to explore my environment...to find my own paths...to make my own mistakes. Her actions, or rather her deliberate inactions, didn't arise because she was an uncaring mother...in fact exactly the opposite.  

Motherhood is of course something that most people have to grow into. It’s a road that is paved with all sorts of good intentions…many of which get thrown out of the window the first time that your darling little baby turns to you and says ‘No…I won’t!’.  Motherhood – and for that matter fatherhood – sort of creeps up on us. Here are five signs which conclusively prove that you have become a mother – which I found on the internet:

· You start spending regular half hours in the bathroom…just to be alone!

· You start hoping that tomato ketchup is a vegetable, since it’s the only one that your child eats.

· You find that, without thinking about it, you’ve cut off the crusts of your husband’s sandwiches

· You hear your own Mother’s voice coming out of your mouth when you say “NOT in your best clothes!”

And finally…the most telling sign of all…

· You use your own spit to clean your child’s face.

This morning’s gospel reading invites us to consider something of both the joy and the pain of motherhood. When Mary and Joseph presented their new son Jesus to the Lord at the Temple, Simeon prophesied over the child – whom he recognised by divine light to be the promised Messiah. And his prophecy contained some strange words – topsy turvey words: “This child is destined to cause the rising and falling of many in Israel…” (Luke 2:34)

Mary exalted at this prospect. There was real joy in the gift of motherhood she had been given, because she glimpsed something of the potential of the child she had borne.

But there is a darker edge to the prophecy of Simeon too. At the end of his promises, there is a dark foreboding in his final line: “And a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Lk 2:35).

Simeon knows his Scriptures. He knows, for example, that Isaiah had prophesied that the Messiah would have to die to achieve his ultimate goal of redeeming Israel. He knows that the path Jesus must tread is going to a difficult one. 

Do you remember the story of Jesus, when he was about 12 years old?  It's the only reliable story that we have about his childhood, other than his birth.  It’s the occasion when the boy Jesus stays in Jerusalem to discuss theology with the priests – rather than returning home with his parents…(which is the very next story in Luke’s gospel).   Just imagine the worry and pain of Mary as she hurried through the streets of Jerusalem, searching for her lost son among the Passover crowds, and the invading Roman Soldiers.  

And do you remember the occasion that Jesus was told of his mother and brothers being outside?  I wonder how Mary felt when Jesus responded that his mother and brothers were now all those who hear and act on God’s words? (Lk 8:21)

And that is something that many mothers – and fathers too – must experience. As children leave the nest, and make their own way in the world – there can be pain at their passing.  There is a sense in which all parents are called to give back the gift of their child to the God who created them…just as Mary did.  

Worst of all, of course, is the occasion when Mary finds herself at the foot of her son's cross - watching him die, having been deserted by all the crowds, and all the followers, expect John.

So - from the example and story of Mary, we see that both joy and pain are inevitable, normal aspects of what it means to be a mother.  That's one of the reasons why I say that Motherhood is one of the highest callings on earth.   

There's something else about Mary's story which should give us pause for thought.  Like most mothers of her day, Mary worked out her role and task as a mother in community.   Mary had her cousin, Elizabeth, during the earliest stages of her pregnancy.  At Jesus' birth she had the companionship of Joseph, and the acclamation of shepherds and wise men.  In the story we've just read, Mary and Joseph present Jesus to the priests of the Temple, so that by his circumcision he can be welcomed into the community of faith.  During the visit to Jerusalem, when Jesus gets lost, the family travel with many pilgrims.  Even at the end of Jesus life, Mary has the support of Mary Magdelene, and of John. 

Motherhood is never something which should be done in isolation.  As a church, we have a duty to support mothers in the joyful, painful, testing, glorious calling of motherhood.  In our community cafe, over the next few weeks, we are going to be adding some play-equipment, out on a new front lawn...precisely so that mothers and children will feel even more welcome here.  At St Nicholas, we provide space for a Pre-School, to supplement and build on what Mothers do.  The Rev'd Bev, as part of our team, is currently planning a course on Spirituality for mothers, which we hope to deliver.  We are also hoping to run  a training course called 'Made of Money' which is designed to help families, and especially Mothers, to get a grip on their finances.  Our Sunday School teachers, week by week, are giving support to families, by teaching our youngsters the things of God.  Children have the chance to sing in our choir, which helps them to grow and develop, and therefore also supports their mothers.

All these things we can do because we are a church!  I feel so incredibly sorry for mothers who try to do the hard work of bringing up children all by themselves.  So many mothers in our city think that the only additional support they have as mothers is to plonk their child in front of a Playstation.  But as a church, a body of people, we are stronger together - we can support one another, as well as the local community.    

I wonder whether you've thought about that before?  Have you ever thought that one of the main reasons for coming to church, is quite simply - to serve our neighbour?  We can worship God at home.  We can pray on a mountain top, or walking by the sea.  In fact, Jesus was fairly suspicious of people who come together to pray...he recommended doing prayer in private (he even went as far as to say, "when you pray, go into your chamber and close the door"  See Matthew 6.6).  Although praying and singing and worshipping together might be wonderfully uplifting, and encouraging for us, I want to suggest to you that, believe it or not,  its not the main reason why the church exists!

The church's primary task - the primary goal given to it by Christ  is to carry the gospel, the good news about God, into the world.  (Matthew 28).  Part of that good news is that people are stronger, happier, better when they live in community with one another - as members of the body of Christ.

That is something worth bearing in mind the next time you don't feel like coming to church...the next time that you want to pull the duvet over your head and go back to sleep.  We don't come to church for our benefit - we come to church for the benefit of the community.  When we come to church, we show by our very presence that we believe in community.  By adding our body to the other bodies around us, we create a feeling of community that reaches out and touches others.  People walking into a full church of many people will be drawn to that community.  

But when we stay at home, when we can't be bothered to come...we leave a gap.  When we are not here, our seat is empty - and so are the hearts of those we would have encountered...including 

· that elderly person who has spent the week on their own, and is desperate for some human company

· including that young couple who are starting out in life, and need the guidance, love and support of people who've been married for years

· including that mother who has been coping with a crying baby all week - and needs to see your friendly smile, and gain your assurance that crying is normal, there's nothing wrong with her baby.

· including that young woman who has not yet been blessed with a child - but who is supported through her grief and anxiety by the love of those around her.

In other words - don't only come to church for your benefit.  Come to church because being here is part of your duty, part of your calling, your vocation, to be a Christian who lives in community with other Christians.  Come to church because it is as church that we have the capacity to become all God made us to be - people who need people.  Adam needed Eve...it was not good for him to be alone.  I need you.  I hope you need me!  We certainly need each other, and mothers need us.

Just like Mary did.

So on this Mothering Sunday, we thank God for all Mothers - and for the joy, privilege and incredible challenge of motherhood.    We remember that motherhood is a calling which brings great joy, but can also bring great pain...and we pray for all mothers, and those who feel called to be mothers.  But at the same time we recognise that, as Mary taught us, the best motherhood is carried out in community with others and, I pray, we dedicate ourselves to being part of that community.

Just like Mary did.

Amen

Treasure in a Clay Jar

Today (Tuesday 22/2/2010) we are beginning our series of Lent Talks.  We've called this series 'Treasures in Clay Jars' - which is a deliberate quotation from St Paul.  In his 2nd letter to the Corinthians Paul talked about his faith...what he called 'the light of the knowledge of the glory of God' which for him was a marvellous, amazing revelation of God.  But, Paul says, in chapter 4, 'we have this treasure in clay jars'...acknowledging the fragility of the body and mind which carry around this knowledge and experience of God.  Paul goes on, 'even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day'.  For Paul, the treasure, the precious faith he carries in his heart is what sustains and renews him, despite the fact that his 'outer casing' is wasting away.

Bev, Di and I (blog-note: leading-priests of the North End Portsmouth Team Ministry) all acknowledge that we are clay jars.  We are subject to the same weaknesses of body and mind as everyone else.  We are just as likely to make mistakes as everyone else...we are fragile, clay jars.  But we also carry around treasure, inside of us - treasure that we believe God has placed within us.  Our treasure is of slightly different types. It might be gold, rubies or diamonds...but it is treasure.  And it's this treasure that sustains us in our ministries...and it's this treasure that we want to share with you over the coming weeks.

You will have your own treasure too - we hope.  You will have ideas and feelings that sustain you, and which propel you forward in your own faith.  Hopefully, as we share with you something of the treasure that we hold inside us, you will be helped to recognise and begin to use the treasure you have inside your own clay jar.

It is my task to start this series of talks.  And I want to do so by outlining to you something that I carry around with me as true treasure.  This is treasure which always has value for me...it doesn't rust, and it doesn't ever run out.  Sometimes it gets a little dusty, because I don't always have enough time in my day to day life to take it out and look at it.  But its always there.

The simplest way to describe this treasure is in the form of a question.  It's an important question.  It's a question which gets me up in the morning, and sustains me through the day.  It's a question which, when I really begin to wrestle with it, helps me to find meaning for the life I lead, and the things I do.  It's also a very simple question.  I suppose you want to know what the question is now?  It's this...

Who am I?

That's it.  There are supplemental questions too.  Questions like 'why am I here?'.  And 'where did the Universe come from?'  But at the root, the most basic question that any of us can ask is 'Who am I?'

This is a philosophical question.  And the treasure in my clay jar that I want to bring out to show you today is a love of philosophy.

I imagine that the word 'philosophy' is a frightening word to some of you.  It perhaps conjures up names like Plato, Aristotle, Heidegger and Kant...and long, technical words like existentialism.  But please don't worry.  I'm not going to give you a lecture on the history of philosophy!  Let me just break down the word 'philosophy' itself.  It is an ancient Greek word, made up of two separate words.  Philo - which is one of the words that the Greeks used for 'love'.  The second part of the word, 'sophy' - comes from the Greek word 'sophia' which simply means 'wisdom'.  So 'philosophy' is 'the love of wisdom'.  A philosopher is someone who loves wisdom.  That's all it means.  So please don't let the word frighten you!

Perhaps the best way to approach philosophy is to ask a few philosophical questions.  These are the kind of questions which people of every age, and every culture, have always been asking.  Questions like: how was the world created?  Is there any active, living Will behind what happens?   Or is life just a series of random events?  Is there life after death?  Perhaps one of the most important questions that lovers of wisdom have asked is 'How should we live?'

The question that I said sums up my own treasure in this clay jar was 'who am I?'.  For me, that question acts as a focus for all the other questions.  Am I a random, chance event...just a collection of chemicals that have randomly come together to make me?  Or am I the product of a Force, a Will, a Creator who has deliberately desired that I should live now, at this moment, in this time and place?

Essentially, there are not many philosophical questions to ask.  The ones I've just posed are certainly some of the most important ones.  But history presents us with fascinating and different answers to each one.  The task of the philosopher - the lover of wisdom - is to explore the answers that other people have come up with...and to let those answers help us form our own opinions - and ultimately the basis on which we build our life.

Studying philosophy can be a bit like a detective story.  Some detectives might think that Smith was the murderer, or Jones, or Green.  Or perhaps they were all involved.  Perhaps they all planned the murder, and were all involved - but only one of them pulled the trigger.  How can you tell?  Sometimes the police can solve a crime - but sometimes they just can't get to the bottom of it.  Perhaps there is not enough evidence.  Or perhaps the evidence is in conflict with another piece of evidence.  But whether the crime can be solved or not, there was still a crime.  It's the same with questions of truth.  There may only be one right answer to a question...or there may be many...perhaps different shades of truth.  But there is a solution somewhere - if only we can find it.

It's the same with philosophy - the love of wisdom.  Some philosophical questions can have only one right answer.  Either there is a God, or there isn't.  Either there is life after death, or there isn't.  The philosopher's task, like a detective, is to sift the available evidence - and arrive at a reasonable conclusion.

One of the greatest Philosophers was a Greek man called Plato...who based his writing on the thoughts of his teacher and mentor, Socrates.  Plato believed that philosophy sprang out of human beings' sense of wonder.   Over time, humans had developed the ability to think about themselves.  They became, in the words of another philosopher, "the man who knows that he knows".  That's what the term homo sapiens refers to...and is, in fact a contraction of the original phrase...'homo sapiens sapiens'...the man who knows that he knows.

Have you every thought about that before?  Have you ever wondered what makes us different from other thinking creatures on this planet.  Consider a dog, for example.  If you've ever owned a dog, you will know that dogs can certainly think.  My dog is very able to think about how to sneak food out of the cat's bowl!  Dogs definitely think - and they definitely feel. You should see how depressed my dog gets when she can't get anyone to give her a tidbit from the table.  And how happy she gets when a certain favourite visitor comes to call...especially one who throws a ball for her.  But the difference between me and my dog, is that I can sort of stand outside myself, and realise that I think.  I can think about the process of thinking.  I am a man who knows that he knows.

Once human beings had developed that ability to know that they knew things - many thought that it was astonishing that they had that ability...and astonishing that they were alive at all.  It was so astonishing to be alive that philosophical questions began to arise of their own accord.

According to a modern-day philospher, called Jostein Gaarder, its like watching a magic trick.  We cannot understand how the trick is done.  So we ask: how can the magician change a silk scarf into a white rabbit?  A lot of people experience the world with the same sense of wonder as an audience who watch a magician.  In the case of the rabbit, we know the magician has tricked us.  What we would like to know is how he did it.

But in the world, it's somewhat different.  We know that the world is not all sleight of hand and deception, because here we are, in it; we are part of it.  Actually, says Jostein Gaarder, we are the white rabbit being pulled out of the hat - the world, and our very existence is so amazing, so improbable, that we are a kind of living magic trick.  The only difference between us and the rabbit, is that we know we are taking part in the trick.  We feel we are part of something mysterious and we would like to know how it all works.

Philosophers, throughout the millennia, have tried to help us to get to know how the magic trick works.  They have tried to expand our consciousness of the world around us, and of our place in the world.  They have forced us to ask the hard questions, the deep questions:  why am I here?  Who am I?  How was the world made?

The trouble is, as philosophers have complained all through time, many people just don't want to do the hard work of thinking about those sorts of things.  Many people are happy to go through life just being told what to think - and what to believe.  Many homo sapiens simply never get to the point of being sapiens sapiens!  Worse still, some people never get beyond working at the level of simple instinct...the instinct to survive, or the instinct to destroy, or to dominate, or control.

Earlier this week I walked out of my house to find that a drainpipe from my garage was hanging off the wall.  I thought it was odd.  Perhaps someone had accidentally knocked it with their car while turning in the street? But then, as I walked on down the road, I discovered that the house next door had also got its drain-pipe hanging off.  And the next one.  And the next one.  It quickly became clear that some individual had systematically gone down the street destroying drainpipes.

Why?  What possible reason could anyone have for mindlessly destroying drainpipes?  Perhaps at some instinctive level, someone had simply decided that they enjoyed the sound of drainpipes creaking and cracking before falling off.  Perhaps someone had lost control over something in their life...perhaps a partner had left them...and this small act of vandalism was a way of showing themselves that they still could control something in their life?  Who knows?  What was clear though, was that this was not the act of someone who has asked the philosophical questions.  Who am I?  What am I here for?  This was someone who was acting at a purely instinctive level of consciousness....like a dog who chases reflections endlessly around the lawn.  Pure instinct.  This was someone with no sapiens sapiens.

Sadly, as philosophers have observed across the millennia, this is the standard pattern for many human beings.  We see it, all too often, in our own streets, and among our own families and neighbours.  People get stuck into the dull routine of getting up, going to work, slumping in front of the box...and then doing it all over again.  They so rarely stop to gaze at the magnificence of a sunset, or the intricate beauty of a flower.  Rarely do many people stop to ask themselves even the most basic sapiens sapiens question - like 'what makes my relationship with my partner work?'.  Even less do most people ask themselves the question 'Why am I here?'.

Jostein Gaarder continues his analogy about the white rabbit by saying that we can see the rabbit the Universe.  A wondrous thing, brought into existence by forces that look like magic to us.  And yet, most human beings choose to bury themselves in the fur of the rabbit...where it is warm and cosy...where nothing can frighten or challenge.  Philosophers are those rare individuals who are prepared to climb up one of the hairs, and to peer out at the Universe.  In Gaarder's words: 'Philosophers are always trying to climb up the fine hairs of the fur in order to stare right into the magician's eyes'.

Plato - that ancient Greek lover of wisdom - used another analogy for this same dilemma.  He effectively said to his readers:  most people live as though they were dwellers in a cave.  Such people spend their whole lives standing in one position - staring at the back-wall of the cave.  Behind them is a light, and in front of the light, other people are moving wooden cut-outs of worldly objects - making shadows on the wall in front of the cave dwellers.  For the cave dwellers, this is all there is to life.  To them, a house is just a shadow of the outline of a house.  A tree is just a long shape with a fluffy bit on top.

Imagine what would happen if one day, one of the cave dwellers turned around, and saw what was happening behind them.  How excited they would be to discover that there was more to life...that, in the first instance, a house was not a shadow, but a firm outline made of wood.  Imagine then that our rebellious cave-dweller realises that the light, behind the cut-outs, is coming from further away...in fact from the entrance to the cave.  Astonished at this discovery, the cave-dweller walks towards the light - and then, in the full glare of the sun, he discovers what a house is really like, and how wonderful is a tree!

Plato suggests that this is the kind of journey that philosophers - lovers of wisdom - can make.  Philosophers are those of us who are no longer content with a world of shadows.  Philosophers want to walk towards the light...and find the source of life.

That is my treasure in my clay jar.  That is, ultimately, the force that drives me to want to be a priest.  I like to think that I am one of those people who climb up the hairs of the white rabbit's fur...and try to look the Magician in the eye.    

The philosopher's road has been a fascinating journey for me so far.  I think that I have only just begun to scratch the surface of the big questions - the 'who am I?' sort of questions.  I believe, for example, that my life has a purpose - and that I am not a random accident of fate.  I believe that there is a Creative Force, out there, something greater than I can ever conceive...and that somehow, I am linked to the rest of the Universe, through that Creative Force.

I choose to make my journey of discovery a Christian one.  I believe that Jesus of Nazareth was someone who was more connected to that Creative Force than anyone else who has ever lived...and that he was uniquely in tune with the big questions.  I follow his teachings because they make sense to me, on a philosophical level.  They give me a framework around which I can fine-tune my own, personal understanding of the 'who am I?' question.  Who am I?  I am a child of God.  What is my purpose?  It is to live for God, and to show God to others.  It is to stand in the door-way of the Cave, and to call back to the other cave-dwellers 'come and see what it is like in the sunlight!'.

However, as a philosopher - a lover of wisdom - I don't claim that I have got all the answers.  Do you remember Socrates...the mentor of Plato?  Socrates was executed by people who didn't like the fact that he would spend all his time going around telling people that they don't actually know anything.  He had an irritating habit of seeking out people who thought they were wise, and then like a child who keeps asking 'why', he would gradually reduce them to having to admit that they didn't know anything.  He famously said, "True wisdom comes to each of us when we realize how little we understand about life, ourselves, and the world around us."  Or to put it more pithily: "One thing only I know, and that is that I know nothing"

In a rather longer explanation, at his trial which was recorded by Plato, Socrates related how he came to a conclusion about a supposedly wise man whom he had interviewed.  He said this,

"Well I am certainly wiser than this man. It is only too likely that neither of us has any knowledge to boast of; but he thinks that he knows something which he does not know, whereas I am quite conscious of my ignorance. At any rate it seems that I am wiser than he is to this small extent, that I do not think that I know what I do not know."

I take those ancient words, and that ancient warning, right to my heart.  I have chosen the path of being a Christian minister - but I freely acknowledge that this is probably an accident of birth.  If I had been born in Tibet, I would probably be a Buddhist.  If I had been born in Mecca, I would almost certainly be a Muslim.  But I was born in Weston-Super-Mare...and in Somerset, in the 1960s, no-one knew what a Muslim was...let alone a Buddhist!  So I was introduced to Jesus, from an early age, and found in him many meaningful answers to the philosophical questions that I was asking.  Jesus has never led me astray...in fact, he has brought me back from going astray on many occasions!  So my allegiance is to him.  But, as someone who fully acknowledges the wisdom of Socrates, I don't claim that I have understood everything there is to know about God, through Jesus.  As a lover of wisdom, I keep my eyes and ears open to what else there may be to learn...what other solutions to the puzzle of life might also be available to me.  Like the policemen who try to solve a complicated murder, I know that there are sometimes shades of grey.

In a moment I'm going to ask you to ponder some of the big questions for yourself.  But let me just conclude with a couple more of my favourite quotes from Socrates...

• What a lot of things there are a man can do without.
• Ordinary people seem not to realise that those who really apply themselves in the right way to philosophy are directly and of their own accord preparing themselves for dying and death
• An unexamined life is not worth living.
• Here's one for an election year:  No man undertakes a trade he has not learned, even the meanest; yet everyone thinks himself sufficiently qualified for the hardest of all trades, that of government. 
• And finally, with his tongue firmly in his cheek, Socrates said, "By all means get married. If you get a good wife you will become happy, and if you get a bad one you will become a philosopher".

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Further reading:  
For those wishing to dip their toe into the world of philosophy, I heartily recommend "Sophie's World" by Jostein Gaarder