Camels, needles and rich men

Amos 5.6-7, 10-15  & Hebrews 4. 12-16  & Mark 10.17-31

“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

Right now, if I’m perfectly honest, I wish I was in Ghana – as indeed I will be next week.  It would easy to preach on this text among people who are often desperately poor.  It is easy to rail against the inequity of the world, to people who have nothing.  In those circumstances, the preacher can call on all the inbuilt sense of injustice in his congregation.  Ghanaian congregations will call out ‘Amen!’ or, as my friend Matthias frequently does ‘Preach on!’.   The preacher can raise the tone and the excitement of a sermon to fever-pitch.  Oh, I can imagine it now…

“This is the cry of God.  This is the two edged sword of the word of the Almighty!  It divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.  The mighty word of God cries out to the rich, “Beware!”  You have oppressed the poor.  You have lined your pockets, and built your mansions, while 90% of the world is starving.  You have gold taps, while billions of people have to carry their own water from the river.  Beware!  The day of the Lord is coming like a thief in the night.  Amos accuses you to…You have trampled on the poor.  You have taxed them, so that you can build your fine houses.  Beware!  You have planted fine vineyards…but you shall not drink their wine.”

Preach on!  (I can hear it now).  Ay-men!

Oh yes, it would be easy to preach like that in Ghana.

But here in Havant, it’s a little more difficult, isn’t it?  Here in Havant, it is tempting to offer words of comfort to people who may be fearful that the preacher is about to ask them for their mortgage deeds! 

It is tempting, for example, to repeat the old preachers trick about the eye of the needle.  Over many years, western preachers have offered a little hope to western congregations, by suggesting that in Jesus’ day they used to be a pedestrian-only gate into Jerusalem, called the eye of the needle.  Such preachers would offer the hope of heaven to their congregations by saying that it was just possible to push a camel through that pedestrian passage.  Therefore, they would conclude, it is possible for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of heaven.  He just has to work out how to accomplish it.

Unfortunately, however, scholars have more recently shot that particular fox.  There is, in fact, no archaeological or manuscript evidence that there ever was a pedestrian gate called the ‘Eye of the Needle’.  It didn’t exist.  Nothing.  So, the only conclusion that we can draw is that Jesus meant his metaphor quite seriously.  He was talking about an actual camel, and an actual needle – and the practical impossibility of threading the one through the other. 

What we don’t know, and can’t know, is how big a twinkle there was in Jesus eye when he said this.  Was this a joke?  Was he deliberately using a comic image to make his point?

Well, probably, yes.  There’s a lovely moment that Mark captures for us in the text.  The rich young man was keen to show that he had kept all the laws and done all that was required to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.  But Jesus’ response, painted by Mark, is lovely.  Mark says:  ‘Jesus looked at him, and loved him’.  That’s not like Mark.  Mark’s Gospel is the shortest of the Gospels, and often the most compressed.  There is a sort of breathless quality to Mark’s writing.  He goes from story to story, place to place, very efficiently.  But here, at this moment, he pauses and he gives us this beautiful detail…”Jesus looked at him, and loved him”.

We can use the eyes of our imagination to picture the seen.  We can imagine Jesus looking at the rich young man with a knowing smile and with love in his eyes.  We can imagine him looking deeply into the man’s soul, and realising that for him the problem was material.  He was keeping all the religious laws, but he had this nagging feeling, which wouldn’t go away.  He had this sense that somehow keeping all the laws wasn’t enough.  There was something still preventing him from moving forward in his relationship with God.  So he came to see Jesus.  He came to see if Jesus could diagnose the problem.

And Doctor Jesus puts his finger on the problem.  Wealth.  It was the man’s wealth that was holding him back.  It was the single greatest obstacle on his journey of faith.  Doctor Jesus saw that the only way the man would be able to move forward would be to shrug off the weight of his wealth.

Wealth can affect us all that way, can’t it?  For one thing, it can make us reliant on ourselves, rather than others or God.  We lull ourselves into a false sense of security.  We tell ourselves that with our reliable monthly salary or pension, with our private health insurance, with our substantial well maintained house, all will be well, and we will never have to reach out to anyone, or even to God, for help.

The trouble comes when bad luck, or market crashes, or an unexpected car crash rips away our self-reliance.  Then, we find that we need others, and God, after all.  But, for many who find themselves in that situation, they have forgotten how to do it.  Pride in one’s own self-reliance prevents us from reaching out for help.   

Many such poor souls find themselves lonely and cut-off from the world in their final years.  They are too proud to seek help.  They are too proud to admit that they are lonely.  Too proud to seek out the company of people who they would once have thought beneath them.  And so they choose the alternative – miserable isolation, fear, and hatred of the world outside.  These are the habitual letter writers.  This is ‘Disgusted of Tonbridge Wells’ whose only way of interacting with the world anymore is to write poisoned pen letters to the Editor of the Telegraph.

Wealth was the problem for the rich young ruler.  But it isn’t everyone’s problem.  Many wealthy people manage to live beautifully balanced lives, which overflow in generosity to those around them.  Wealth itself is not evil.  Money is not, in itself evil.  It is the love of money which is at the root of all kinds of evil (as St Paul teaches us).

But there are other obstacles to faith too.  Every one of us is likely to have some obstacle to our own growth in faith.  It’s perfectly natural.  And it’s very real.  Part of the job of a Pastor, like me, is to help people identify what the obstacle in their life might be.

Perhaps it is some unresolved anger, or hatred for another person who has wronged you.

Perhaps it is some habit that you can’t shift, but which consumes you to the point of being fixated upon it day and night.

Perhaps it is an addiction – to sports, to video games, to porn, to alcohol, to gambling – each one calling you away from the life of faith into the dark place of addiction.

Perhaps it is just plain laziness.  Perhaps you (and I) are just too darned lazy to take on the discipline of being a follower of Jesus.

I don’t know.  Only you can know.  But what I ask of you now, as I sit down, is that you ask yourself this question.  What is my personal obstacle to moving forward in my faith?  

If the Rich Young Ruler had to sell all his goods in order to advance in his faith, what do I need to rid myself of?  

What is God calling me to dispense with, to put away, to fundamentally change in order that I might go forward in my faith?

Let’s pause, for a few moments, and think on these things…

Amen.

Serving the Lord of the Harvest

(Genesis 2.18-24  Hebrews 1.1-4; 2.5-12 & Matthew 25.14-30)

Sometimes, you just have to say “Thank you!” don’t you?  Because we have got so much to be thankful for haven’t we?  Come Ye Thankful people come!  God is just SO very good to us...isn’t he?

I mean - think about it. God is the all-powerful source of all being and life. He did not have to create the Universe like this. He could have created a Universe any way that he wanted to. He could have made one that was entirely black and white - devoid of any colour. He could have made one in which food had no taste - or in which his people had no taste buds.  Imagine not being able to taste what chocolate was like!  He could have made a world that didn’t have sunlight, and mountains, and rivers, and oceans.  He could have just made one which was all flat desert.

But he didn’t. God created a world which is teeming with life, and variety, and colour and sound. He gave us delicious food. He gave us every kind of resource that we could need. He gave us families and friends - and communities in which we can live together.

And so, we come together on a Harvest Sunday to thank Him for all his amazing gifts to us. We come to say, “thank the Lord, O thank the Lord, for all his love!”

In our reading from the Letter to the Hebrews, just now, we were reminded of words from Psalm 8.  “What is man, that you should be mindful of him?  You have made him little lower than the angels…you have given him dominion over the works of your hands.”   Did you pick that up?  The idea there is that God has given control of the whole world to human beings. 

The theme was picked up in our reading from Genesis, the great mythological creation story, during which God brought all the animals of the world to the first man, to see what he would name them.  Elsewhere in the Genesis story, God gives the Man a command that he should ‘take care of the garden’.

And my goodness, haven’t we done just that!  There is hardly a landscape on earth which human beings have not shaped by their own hands.  The rolling hills of England, for example, were once a dense forest, until we humans cut down the trees, and tamed the land.  The great rolling plains of the Americas have been tamed and tilled into enormous fields of grain.  In land after land, across Africa and Asia, the Americas and the Antipodes, the hand of human beings is seen everywhere.  We have developed the technology to reshape vast swathes of land, and to transport the harvest of the world into every corner of the planet.

But somehow, along with all our technology, all our science, all our cleverness we have forgotten where all this harvest came from.  We have forgotten that all this abundance is given to us - we did not create the world.  None of us, even the cleverest of us, can create life.

Have you heard the story about the scientist went to talk to God and he says, "God, we can now clone humans, make life, and take care of ourselves and we don't need you anymore." and God said "Ok that’s fine, but I want to challenge you to a contest before I let you go. Each of us has to create our own human using nothing but dirt, and the first one done wins." So the scientist agreed and reached down to start making his human, and God stops him and says, "Whoa not so fast!  I made that dirt.  You have to create your own!"

Not only does all this abundant life come from the Creator God, but God also gives us another very special gift.  He gives each of us abilities and talents which can be used – or abused – as we see fit.  God gives us free will, to use our talents for our own self-development, or for the needs of others.  He gives us the ability to make huge differences in the lives of other people, or to make a huge difference for ourselves.  He gives us hands which can work in two directions…either to gather, or to give.  We either sweep the resources of the harvest towards ourselves, or we hold out our hands to others, and share with them.

The same is true of our skills and talents in the life of our church.  Some people come to church because they receive something from coming. 

Perhaps it is the warm feeling of love from other people and from God – which helps them cope with whatever is going on with the rest of their lives.  That is no bad thing.  We all need to be loved and held, especially when life is hard. 

Some of us come because we like the music, or the liturgy, or the architecture.  That’s no bad thing.  We all need a little beauty in our lives. 

But if we only come to church because of what we receive from church, then we have rather missed the point, haven’t we?  The primary functions of the church can be summed up in two very short lines: 

a) to worship God

b) to make God known

Both of those are ‘outward imperatives’.  Neither of them is about what any of us can receive personally from church.  Instead, they are about our calling to look outwards from ourselves.  These ‘outward imperatives’ call us to use our God-given talents and abilities to worship God, and to make God known to the people around us.

So, on this harvest Sunday, as you and I give thanks to God for all his abundant gifts, what are we going to do with the gifts and talents he has given us?  How are we going to harvest our talents in order to worship God and make God known? 

Many of us already give huge amounts of time to those tasks.  All who serve at the Altar or the Choir, or in the Bell Tower.  All who patiently welcome strangers throughout the week.  All who visit the sick and bring them the comfort of communion.  All who raise funds, and steward our resources, or clean our floors, or sell goods in the charity shop.  Each and everyone is using their God given talents in order to worship God and make God known.

But are there some who have buried their talent?  Are there some for whom church is about what they receive, more than what they give?  Are there some who need a little encouragement to learn the deep contentment which comes from using one’s talents for the purposes God created them?  

Have you ever tried to use the wrong tool to do a job?  I know I have.  You know…there’s a screw that needs unscrewing.  But I’m too lazy to go out to the garage and get a screw driver.  “I know!  I’ll use that spoon!”.  It never works, does it? 

Using a tool for the wrong purpose is never a satisfying experience.  Well, we human being are like that.  The Lord of the Harvest made us, and gives us abundance, for one primary purpose:  to worship him and to make him known.   Any other purpose to which we put our talents just isn’t satisfying.  Is it?

I’m going to sit down now…and I’m going to offer you a moment or two for reflection.  Just take a moment, and ask yourself this question:  “Am I using my talents for the tasks God has given me?  As someone built to share, as God’s child, created for the sole purpose of worshipping him and making him known: am I doing what I should?” 

If the answer is yes, then congratulations!  If however, you want to think some more about this question…let’s talk!

Amen.

He who is not against us is for us.

Mark 9. 38-41

One of the joys of St Faith’s, is the number of visitors we receive on a daily basis.  I have rarely been in the church during the week, when a visitor hasn't shown up from some corner of the world.  Interestingly, one of the most frequent questions they ask is ‘What kind of church is this?’

As our weekday welcomers will tell you, it is not always easy to explain what an ‘Anglican’ church is – especially to someone from outside the UK.  It’s quite funny to watch people’s faces when you say ‘Well, basically, we’re a catholic church’.  When you say that, a light of recognition dawns….most people, anywhere in the world, recognise the word ‘Catholic’.  They have an image in their head of certain kinds of robes, certain ceremonies.  Everyone has heard of the Pope.  

But then…you deliver the ‘killer fact’ and watch their face become all puzzled again…”But we don’t follow the Pope…we have an elected church government”.  Confusion reigns!  “How can you be catholic, but not follow the Pope?”

To some people, it really matters what kind of church they are in.  In fact some people have been taught from an early age that their kind of church is the only true church.  I remember, as a child, having very strange feelings about walking into another kind of church. 

In my case, in my little Devon village, it was the URC church down the road.  It was weird!  It didn’t feel like a church.  They didn’t have stained glass windows.  The pulpit was in the centre of the building.  The organ was at the back.  There weren’t any memorials on the walls.  Where was the font?  It was all very distressing.  But worst of all, I found myself asking, ‘are these people actually Christians at all?’

Over the years, I have had the blessing and privilege of worshipping in a vast array of churches – all over the world.  Some of them have also struggled to see me as a Christian.  That won’t surprise those of you who know me well…but actually it had nothing to do with my personality!  Rather, some churches in foreign lands have simply never heard of us Anglicans. 

Take Romania, for example.  I first visited Romania soon after the fall of Communism.  The Communists had very effectively squashed all the churches of Romania, between 1945 and 1989. By 1990, when I arrived with a delegation from the YMCA, the only churches left standing after Ceausescu were the Orthodox Churches.  Orthodoxy has some practices which you and I would find very strange indeed...  

For a start, there is the screen of icons around the altar.  They effectively create a ‘holy of holies’ where only the priest may enter to celebrate the sacred mysteries.  Communion is given on a long silver spoon, so that the body of Christ cannot be defiled by being touched with human hands.  Services are routinely three hours long – with some worshippers coming and going throughout for their favourite bits.  As you know, Orthodox worshippers put great store in icons – believing them to be windows to the heavenly realm.  They may ask Saints in heaven to pray for them to God – because, after all, they are nearer to God.

But for me, a member of the Church of England, the National Church, THE church (as far as I was concerned) the strangest thing of all was to be treated by my new Romanian friends with a huge amount of suspicion.  Many of them wondered whether I could be described as a Christian at all.  They guessed that an ‘Anglican’ was another religion all together…perhaps I was like a Muslim, or a Hindu or something.  It took some very patient work to listen to each other, and to work out that despite our differences, we were both Christians.

For me, there was a real joy in this encounter.  I learned a great deal from my new Orthodox friends.  They taught me new ways of seeing faith, and of understanding God. 

For example – and it is only one example – I learned a new theological idea, known as ‘deification’ or Theosis.  The Orthodox Church teaches, like the Anglican and Catholic churches, that we are made in the image of God.  Like us, they believe that human sinfulness has distorted and spoiled that image.  Like us, they believe that through Jesus it is possible for that sinfulness to be removed…and for us to be restored to a right relationship with God.  But then, Orthodoxy goes one step further. 

Orthodox Christians believe that it is possible for us to attain such a state of Union with God, that we can become ‘deified’ – or like gods (with a small ‘g’) ourselves.   The Orthodox Saint Athanasius said it most succinctly:  “Jesus was made incarnate so that we might become gods” (again with a small ‘g’).

Now that’s a fascinating idea isn’t it?  It means that the Christian life is much more than a simple transaction -  we sin, Jesus dies, we repent, God forgives us.  The notion of ‘Theosis’ invites us on a journey of ever increasing holiness.  Theosis offers us the possibility of becoming so much like Jesus, day by day, that we can even obtain the condition of being a kind of god ourselves.  Of course, this process doesn’t happen overnight.  Orthodox saints are those who after a lifetime of prayer, repentance, self-sacrifice, and daily holiness are considered to have become like Jesus in their soul. 

I wonder what you think about that idea?  Does it encourage you?  Does it make you wonder whether, with God’s help, you too could embark on a process of becoming so much like Jesus that you might even be described as a kind of god?  If you are encouraged, or challenged, then that’s the point….that’s the point of exchanging ideas across different churches.  That’s the point of ‘ecumenism’.  That’s the point of movements like ‘Churches Together’.

As we saw in today’s Gospel reading, the Disciples were rather suspicious of anyone who wasn’t in their camp.  They came running to Jesus…”Teacher, Teacher…there’s this fellow over there who is casting out demons in your name!  Help!  Panic!  We tried to stop him….”

But Jesus is much more relaxed about things.  “Don’t try to stop him” he said.  “For no-one who does a deed of power in my name will soon afterwards be able to speak evil of me.  Whoever is not against us is for us”.

Jesus, it seems, was an ecumenist.  He understood that an infinite God could be revealed in an infinite number of ways.  There are many Christians today who get terribly worried about the vast range of churches that there are in the world.  To some extent, I share their concern.  There are certainly some churches who I think are barely recognisable as Christian – especially any who try to persuade their followers to sign over the deeds of their houses in return for false promises of blessings from above! 

But, by and large, the infinite variety of churches on this planet are, themselves, a reflection of the infinite complexity and depth of our God.  We can, and should, listen to each other.  Each of us has been given something unique and precious.  Each of us, if you like, has our own small window into heaven.  By sharing our perspectives, and learning from each other, we have the possibility of flooding our churches with the full light of heaven.

Therefore, I welcome the chance to work with other churches in this Town.  I welcome the contemporary, modern worship of the Family Church or the Portsdown Community Church at the Beacon.  I welcome the radical ecumenism of the URC, a church created out of a vision that it was a church born to die – when all the churches of the world came together as one, United, Re-formed church.  I welcome the historic rootedness of the Catholic church, who preserve and hand on the traditions and beliefs of the ages.  I welcome the radical social agenda of the Methodists, born among the working classes of England. 

And I hope that we Anglicans can add our distinctiveness to the whole too.  I hope that with our innate sense of ceremony, our wonderful hymnody and musical traditions, our profoundly rich liturgies, and our inclusive vision of parishes – that we too can offer something to our sisters and brothers of other churches. 

He who is not against us is for us.

Amen.

Take up your Cross

Mark 8: 31-end.

HEALTH WARNING…the first four paragraphs are a parody…to be read in a phoney American accent!

I have great pleasure in announcing that from today, we are changing our name.  From now on, we will be known as the "Havant Branch of the Church of the Blessings of the Almighty Saviour Jesus ".  Why is this? Well let me tell you, brothers and sisters. Last night, I had a vision! The Lord God Almighty spoke to me from the heavens. He said to me...

"Rector", he said, "Rector - I have good news for you! I want to shower you and your congregation with abundant blessings. (Praise the Lord!) I am going to make yours a church of millionaires! You are going to become so wealthy, so full of miracles, so full of powerful acts of God Almighty, that the whole of Havant will flock to your doors!

All your congregation has to do is to show that they trust me. They simply have to sign over the deeds to their houses to the church. Then I will know that they trust me. Then I will bless them with riches from heaven. Then they will become millionaires, and all their problems will disappear". (Praise the Lord!)

So, my brothers and sisters, our Treasurer, Sister Shelley, will be standing by, at the ready, with forms for you to sign. Just sign over the deeds of your house to the church, and the Lord God Almighty, in the glorious name of Jesus, will give you your heart's desire! A-men, brothers and sisters. A-men!

----------

It's a bit frightening to think that there really are churches like that in the world.  They feed on people's misery. They create an image of the world which is so pumped up with future hope, that gullible people really do believe that God is in the business of making them wealthy...but they are tricked into making their preachers wealthy instead.  Hmmm…perhaps I’m in the wrong branch of the church?!

According to today’s Gospel text, modern-day prosperity preachers are not the first people to have got the wrong end of the stick. This text comes at a pivotal point in Mark's gospel. Up until this chapter, which comes right in the middle of the gospel, Jesus' disciples have seen him doing all sorts of amazing things. He drives out evil spirits, heals and feeds the multitudes; he’s even walked on water. But now, in this passage, the whole trajectory of Jesus' life and ministry turns...it pivots, towards Jerusalem, and to the incomprehensible scandal of the Cross.

Verse 31: "He began to teach them that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected...and be killed".(Mk 8:31). You can just imagine Peter's reaction can't you? He probably thinks that Jesus has gone nuts.  Perhaps the Messiah has been working too hard?  So he rebukes Jesus. Matthew's gospel gives us the words that Mark doesn't record: "Never, Lord" he said. "This shall never happen to you!" (Matt 16:22)

But Jesus is adamant. He tells Peter off with really startling words: "Get behind me, Satan!" Pretty stern stuff.  And then Jesus goes on, in verse 33: "You are setting your mind not on divine things, but on human things". In other words, "You are thinking like a man, but by now you should be starting to think as God thinks...to see things from God's perspective".

Anyone confronted with the idea of suffering might well react as Peter reacts. After all, God can heal, can't he? Jesus' many miracles are proof that God does not delight in suffering.  And yet, somehow, for reasons we might only be able to guess at, suffering enters into God's plan for humanity.  It's there. It was there for Jesus, who suffered on the cross.  It was there for the many whom Jesus encountered but did not heal.  Suffering, somehow, is part of the plan. Christians who are fixated on the Jesus of the miracles have missed out on the suffering Jesus of the Cross.

But that is precisely whom we are confronted with in this text. Jesus had to suffer...it was part of the divine plan.  But Jesus says that suffering is part of the package for us too..."anyone who wants to follow me must deny himself, and take up his cross".(Mark 8:34

Let's notice that there are, in fact, two elements to Jesus stark statement: we are called first to 'deny self', and secondly, to 'take up our cross'. Let's look at those in turn.

First - what does it mean to 'deny self'?

To deny self, when you think about it, is actually about putting others first.  It's a way of living that always looks out for other people. It's a way of living which never asks "what's in it for me?" but rather "what's in it for my neighbours, and for the Kingdom of God?".  Think about this:  if Jesus had asked himself 'what's in it for me?' before embarking on his ministry, he would never have got beyond his baptism.  We too are called to live that way...to live generously…

…And to live lightly upon the earth.  The son of man had nowhere to lay his head.  To deny self, is also about learning to let go of the things we shackle ourselves with – learning that true contentment is not found in great wealth, but in great relationships, with God and neighbour.  There’s a saying among a certain group of rich people which indicates something of the contemporary mindset about wealth:   “He who dies with the most toys, wins”. 

Nothing of course could be further from the truth.  “You fool”, says God in Jesus parable of the farmer with massive barns.  “This very night, your life will be required of you”.  You can’t take any of it with you.  Jesus says:  “Deny yourself.  Build up treasure that thieves cannot break in and steal.  Build up treasure for heaven”.

Secondly, what did Jesus mean by saying we have to take up our cross?

A while ago, I spent time with a parishioner in my previous parish who had become very frail – let’s call her Lucy.   Lucy had spent all her life serving others through the church. She had been at coffee mornings and fundraisers, and served on the PCC, and made endless cups of tea. She had truly denied herself for others.  And yet, Lucy now found herself frail, bed-bound, and unable to serve others anymore. She even had to rely on others to help her to the bathroom.

Lucy’s body was failing her.  But her mind was as sharp as a razor – and she was a thinker.  She said something very profound to me.  She said "perhaps God is teaching me that there was still a bit of pride in me.  I’m learning that I need to let others serve me for a change. Perhaps I'm learning that in the end, we all must rely on God, and on other people.  That none of us can exist in isolation."

I was intensely moved by what Lucy said.  After a life-time of Christian faith God was still teaching her something deep, something profound, about our need for each other, and for God.  There was, for Lucy at least, a purpose in her suffering.  She learned to gladly take up her cross, for what it would teach her and others.

Jesus own suffering clearly had purpose too. But I find it interesting that the Gospels themselves don't provide a definitive answer to why Jesus had to suffer. The task of interpretation is one that was left to later writers, like St Paul - and other great thinkers of the Church.  All that Mark says on the subject, in today's reading, is that Jesus taught his disciples "that the Son of Man must undergo great suffering" (Mark 8:31). The task of working out why is something that Jesus leaves to his Church. We continue to grapple with it...just as we grapple with the reasons for our own suffering, or the suffering of martyrs across the centuries, and even now in other lands.

We continue to grapple - but we also continue to trust...that denying self, and taking up our own cross - participating in our own suffering and the suffering of the world is an essential, central message that is right at the heart of the Gospel.

May you come to know the power of God that is often revealed in suffering. May you come to know the power of denying self, and taking up the cross that is offered to you.  May you come to know that God's power is so often revealed in and through weakness - our own weakness, as well as the weakness of those we encounter.

And it’s alright…you don’t have to sign over the deeds of your house to Shelley!

Amen

Children and Dogs - the Syrian Woman

Mark 7: 24-37  and James 2.1-17

Insults. I like insults. I confess it. There is nothing quite so pleasing to an old cynic like me than a well-crafted insult.

Take, for example, the anecdotal tale about Sir Winston Churchill. Once, at a party, he is said to have been approached by one Elizabeth Braddock, who exclaimed "Mr Churchill, you are drunk!" Churchill is said to have replied, "Madam, you are ugly. However, come the morning, I will be sober but you will still be ugly."Priceless, isn't it?

In my own family, we have two favourite expressions. If one of us does something stupid (usually me) we get called a 'plant-pot'. Don't ask me why...it just works. "You plant-pot!".

But these are all in good fun. Everyone understands the rules...and no-one is offended. We all know, though, don't we, that insults can easily cross the line between gentle playful fun, and downright hurt and offence.

Certain words have the power to wound...for all sorts of reasons. Which is why it is quite surprising that in today's Gospel we should hear Jesus describing the non-Jewish races around him as 'dogs'. In the Middle East, calling someone a dog has always been a gross insult. And yet, when a Syro-Phoenician woman comes to Jesus to ask for healing for her daughter, Jesus' response is 'it’s not fair to take the children's food and throw it to the dogs'.

Jesus appears to be saying that his ministry, his power, his gifts, are meant only for the people of Israel - not for anyone else.

What a shock! What an insult! To the woman in question, it would have been like me saying that only people of my race can come to this church.  What Jesus said was, on the face of it, a racist statement.

But when we read the Bible, we have to be very very careful. It is too easy to take individual quotes from pages of the Bible, and then to use them to justify our own position on something. There are three words which must always be in our minds when we read the Scriptures: context, context, context!

Only a few pages earlier, in verse 8 of Chapter 3, Mark reports that many people came to hear Jesus from all around the area surrounding Galilee - including the towns of Tyre and Sidon which were well known Gentile cities. There is no sign that Jesus tried to send those Gentiles away...in fact he preached God's good news to them as much as to the Jews from Jerusalem and Galilee.

In Chapter 5, Jesus heals the man called Legion, who was said to have many demons inside of him. This man was also a Gentile... living in a region which kept the pigs into which the demons were sent, over a cliff. (As I'm sure you know, Jews would never keep pigs).

At the end of Mark's Gospel, (16:15) Jesus commands his disciples to "Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation".

So the immediate context of Mark's gospel tells us that Jesus was happy to preach to non-Jews, happy to heal them.  He clearly wanted all peoples to know about God.

And that theme is repeated throughout the Gospels. There is a wider context too. John's Gospel, chapter 4, records Jesus' conversation with a Samaritan woman. That was an astounding thing for Jesus to do.  Men of Jesus' time would hardly ever have spoken to a woman in public...let alone a divorced Samaritan woman!

So - let's break down the evidence. First we've got ample scriptural evidence that Jesus was anything but a racist. But then, we've got scriptural and historical evidence that the people all around Jesus pretty much hated each other. So...with that evidence before us...what are we to make of Jesus statement about children and dogs?

Again, I want to drive you back to context. Do you remember what Jesus was up to in the earlier pages of Mark's Gospel? Do you remember how the crowds followed him for all the wrong reasons? Do you remember his theological battles with the Pharisees and Sadducees? He is opposed by his own religious leaders, doubted by his family, followed often for all the wrong reasons by the crowd, accompanied by disciples who only partially understand.

At the beginning of this particular story – about the Syro-Phoenician woman, Mark tells us that after all these battles, Jesus went off to the city of Tyre - some distance from Galilee. He entered a house and, according to Mark, "did not want anyone to know it". Mark presents us with a Jesus in retreat...trying to get away from it all for a while...needing to get his head together in a quiet place without crowds all around him asking for another miracle.

Then along comes this woman - a Gentile - who asks Jesus for another miracle, a miracle of healing for her daughter. Weighed down by the difficulties of his mission, tired, worn-out, it seems to me that Jesus actually appears to snap.  One can imagine him, frustrated that he is not getting through to his own people, saying to himself "I need to focus on Israel...I need to get them to understand before we can take this message any further". He gropes for a metaphor. Tired, he turns to the woman and sighs "First let the children eat all they want...".

Notice the use of the word "first". Jesus' reply doesn't exclude the Gentiles...he simply states that as a Jew, from a nation of Jews, through whom God has chosen to bring salvation to the world - Jesus needs to focus on the Jews first.

Then comes the difficult line: "for it is not right to take the children's bread and toss it to the dogs". It's a metaphor. Jesus is trying to soften his automatic response.  In fact, although we translate the word here as 'dogs', scholars tell us that Jesus used a word which referred to household pets. It was a diminutive form of the word for dogs. A playful word. More like a puppy than a fully grown Rottweiler!

But the woman is more than a match for the tired, worn-out Jesus. And she's desperate to get Jesus to change his mind. So she spars with him. "Yes Lord", she replies...accepting for a moment the idea of the Gentiles as being his second priority. "Yes Lord, but even the dogs under the table eat the children's crumbs".

You can almost see Jesus laughing at this point. You can see him acknowledging that he was wrong to not give his help immediately...and smiling that the woman had so cleverly turned his own metaphor against him.  Mark tells us that then he told her "For such a reply, you may go: the demon has left your daughter".

So what have we learned from this story - and from this bit of bible-study we've been doing together?

First, we've seen something of Jesus' humanity. We sometimes forget that Jesus was human, as much as he was God. He felt the cold, like we do. He felt hunger, like we do. He felt tired, and stressed, and worn-out like we do. And, like we do, when he was tired and stressed, he was capable of getting things wrong.

There is no sin involved in getting something wrong. Jesus was not sinning when he thought that he should not help this woman. He was simply, for a moment, in error. For Jesus to have sinned, he would have had to continue in his error, after it had been made clear to him.

The same goes for us. It is not sinful in itself to hold a wrong opinion. But it would be sinful to continue steadfastly holding that opinion in the face of revealed truth.  When strong science, or  the Holy Spirit, reveal to us that an opinion we hold is simply wrong, we sin when we refuse to change our mind – to repent, to turn around, to face in the new direction of truth.

Secondly, I think this story reminds us to have some patience with each other when we sometimes get things wrong.  It’s good to recognise that we are all human… that we can all mis-speak from time to time...and being always ready to forgive and move on in our relationships with one another.

How different that approach is from the approach of so many in our society. One wrong word, one misplaced phrase can be quoted back to us for the rest of our lives. Families get broken up and destroyed because of a wrong word at the wrong time...because some people seem to almost enjoy feeling insulted. They revel in it...and take a sort of warped pleasure at being at war. Nations go to war with each other because of an insult cast by one politician towards another. Just think, for example, what harm was done by George Bush when he referred to a whole family of nations as being part of an 'axis of evil'. Words do matter. Words can hurt. But forgiveness is stronger. Forgiveness is holy. Forgiveness is worth pursuing.

Finally, I need to say this:  there is a final sharp irony about this story being read on this particular Sunday.  The Syro-Phoenician woman came from an area of the Middle East which is broadly the same as modern-day Syria.  As we sit in comfort around our Sunday dinner tables today, perhaps we will spare a thought for the modern-day Syrians…including those who are walking from Budapest to Germany at this very moment, and those who have set off in leaky tubs across the Mediterranean.  Could it perhaps be said of us, the children of Europe, that we are in danger of only throwing scraps to the poor ‘dogs’ of Syria?

If that is indeed what we think, in the face of all the teaching of Scripture about welcoming the stranger and giving protection to the alien in our land, then we sin.  And God help us if we treat the children of Syria like dogs.  

Let me conclude by letting the words of the the Letter of James ring in our ears:  "What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if you say you have faith but do not have works?  Can faith save you?  If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, 'Go in peace:keep warm and eat your fill', and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that?  So faith by itself, it it has no works, is dead."

Amen.

VJ Day Sermon 2015

Sermon on the 70th Anniversary Commemoration of VJ Day - August 16th 2015

War is, without doubt, the most destructive force on our planet.  Forget earthquakes, hurricanes and volcanoes.  Their destructive power – though often immense for a few hours – pales into insignificance against the destructive power of war.  The destruction of cities, the millions of victims of any world-wide conflict, the destruction of whole economies and entire races of human beings – these are just some of the effects of war.

Nuclear war cranks up the destructive potential to an even greater height.  It was Albert Einstein, reflecting on the pure destructive potential of the weapon he helped to create who said, “I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”  He understood that a worldwide nuclear war had the potential to push the human race back into the Stone Age.

And yet, War is an inevitable and, it seems, ever-present aspect of human nature.  So, what can we learn from the wars of the past (let alone the wars of today)?   On this 70th anniversary of the surrender of Japan, perhaps it is worth a look at the causes of that particular conflict.

Between 1928 and 1932, Japan faced domestic crisis.  The Great Depression which affected the whole world also affected Japan.  There were spiralling prices, economic collapse, unemployment, falling exports and social unrest.  In November 1930, the Prime Minister of Japan was shot by an ultra-nationalist.  In 1932, the army tried to assassinate the next Prime Minister, and ultimately the military seized control of the country.  Between 1932 and 1936, admirals ruled Japan.  Confident and arrogant, they believed that the whole of Asia should be ruled by them – as a way out of economic collapse.  China was invaded, and in response, in 1941, the United States announced a punitive oil embargo.  For the Japanese leaders, that move was a perfect pretext for war, unleashed in December 1941 with the Pearl Harbour attack.

The rest, as they say, is history – including the history that some here today, like Bill Marshall and Govan Easton lived through in all its horror.  But it is the history behind the history from which we need to learn.  The conditions which prompted the rise of the Japanese military machine are similar to those that led to the rise of Hitler, half a world away.  Market forces in crisis, spiralling debt, unemployment and poverty – however caused.  It is when economies go bad that people look to extremist leaders for solutions.

That is, of course, precisely why so many people in the Middle East are following the mad mullahs of ISIL today.  Have you seen how they live?  Have you seen the poverty of shanty towns, unemployment on a massive scale, lives shackled by debt owed to Western banks and institutions?  People who are downtrodden by debt and poverty look for someone to blame.  It is not hard for their leaders to point the finger at us, with all our stored up wealth.  All that ISIL then has to do is remind their followers that many Americans and British people are Christians – and a war about economics quickly becomes a war about faith.  People will blow themselves up for a belief.  They will fly into skyscrapers for the promise of heaven.

War is what happens when language fails, and when we focus our angst, our fears, our problems on some other easily identified group.  For the Nazis, it was the Jews.  For the Japanese, it was the ‘evil Americans’ and their allies.  Today, for billions of people throughout the world, the West is perceived as ‘the great Satan’.  To those who live in abject poverty, shanty towns and starvation, we who live in relative comfort with our bank accounts and shares are seen as the problem.  Our apparent refusal to share our wealth, our insistence on closed borders, our pre-occupation with pleasure-seeking, these are all hated by the rest of the world in their misery and poverty.

Of course, our own perspective is entirely different.   Today, we give thanks for 70 years of peace in our own land.  For us at home, life has been peaceful.  We have been able to go about quietly building our society, largely without the fear of doodle-bugs or other bombs dropping onto us.

But in fact, such peace at home is largely an illusion.  British Troops have been involved in wars all over the planet – since 1945.  Many of you will remember such wars – many of you have even fought in them.  Greece, Malaya, Korea, Egypt, Kenya, Cyprus, Indonesia, Dhofar, Aden, Nigeria, Northern Ireland, the Falklands, Lebanon, the Gulf War, Bosnia, Iraq, Kosovo, Sierra Leone, Afghanistan, Iraq (again), Libya, and now ISIL.

To imagine that the Second World War was the last Great War is to be naive in the extreme.  There has never been a ‘war to end all wars’.  And there never will be – for as long as human beings choose violence over talking, self-preservation over sharing, hatred of the ‘other’ over love of neighbour.

But there is another way.  Writing around 2,700 years ago, the Hebrew prophet Micah dreamed of a day when all the peoples of the earth would ‘learn the ways of God’.  “He will teach us his ways”, said Micah, “so that we will walk in his paths”.  “He will settle the disputes between peoples, and they will beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks.  Everyone will sit in peace under their own vine, and no-one will make them afraid”.

This peace will only come about when the peoples of the earth finally accept the rule and governorship of God.  Such peace will only come about when the people of the earth begin to take seriously what God meant when he told us to love our neighbours as ourselves – a message repeated again and again through the Hebrew Scriptures, and taken up with vigour by Jesus of Nazareth.  Only when we stop keeping the best stuff for ourselves, being content to watch our neighbours in other lands starve and die, will the world ever find the peace for which we all yearn.

If we will let him, the Lord will indeed be our Shepherd.  If we will follow his ways, he will indeed lead us beside still waters.  Our cups will indeed overflow.

But how will this be achieved?  There is no other way but the way of changing one person at a time.  To quote Mahatma Ghandi, ‘if you change yourself, you will change your world’.

So today, we give thanks for the 70 years of relative peace we have enjoyed here in Britain.  We remember, once again, those who gave their lives – or who were forced to give up their lives – for our peace. Today we especially pay tribute to those who endured the horror of the Death Railway and the Far East prisons. We remember, too, the innocent children of Hiroshima and Nagasaki – those who never raised a weapon against any one of us.  We remember them, and all those who have sacrificed themselves, or who were sacrificed, in the vast number of conflicts ever since.

But let us not simply remember them.  Let us honour their sacrifice with a sacrifice of our own.  Let us, each one, commit ourselves to living differently from today.  Let us put aside the lure of wealth, and the pettiness of nationality, and realise that we are all, each one, children of the same God.  Let us learn from him, and follow his ways…so that perhaps, one day, such commemorations as this will no longer be necessary.

Amen

The Passion of the Christ

A Short Homily on the day of the Performance of the Havant Passion Play

Reading:  John 6.51-58

I wonder how many of you saw yesterday’s production of the Havant Passion, in the park.  If you missed it, there is another opportunity this afternoon at 3pm.

I also wonder how many of you have dared to sit through Mel Gibson’s 2007 film, ‘The Passion of the Christ’.  Gibson went to great lengths to make his telling of the Passion as authentic as possible (at least as far as he could tell).  The result, I have to warn you, is rather shocking.  Hollywood must have got through a lot of bottles of tomato ketchup in the making of that film!

The challenge of the Passion Story is of course to get a mental grip on what the suffering and death of Jesus really meant.  Jesus’ death has held a variety of powerful meanings for Christians – and in theological circles, it remains a topic of hot debate.  Here are just three of the main focuses for that debate…

Sacrifice for Sin:  Many Christians believe that human wrong-doing (sin) makes it impossible to be with God (the source of all purity and love).  Such sin can, however, be wiped away through the payment of a death penalty.  By dying in our place Jesus ‘paid the price’ and opened the way for us to be forgiven and restored as children of God.  This, many believe, is how Jesus ‘saves’ us from ourselves, our human folly, and even from Hell.

Redemption: Some Christians believe that our sins effectively make us slaves of the Devil or Satan (though others use the Devil only as a metaphor for sin).  Through his death, Jesus ‘redeemed’ us (like redeeming a hostage from a kidnapper) by paying the Devil a ‘redemption’ in the form of his own blood.  “O Perfect redemption, the purchase of God…”

The Great Example:  Jesus was willing to be executed by the violent forces of power and  influence of his day (the Roman authorities, and the religious leaders).  He did this, many believe, to demonstrate powerfully what happens when violent power, bad politics and human greed are allowed to control society.  The weak and defenceless are left to die, and God gets pushed out to the margins of society.

Christians have debated these (and other, still deeper) interpretations for centuries. New meanings of ‘The Cross’ are always waiting to be discovered.  It fascinates me, however, that Jesus himself said very little about the actual meaning of his death.  Nowhere in the Gospels does is he recorded as giving the kind of clear theological and intellectual meaning that we humans crave.  According to the Gospels, Jesus talked about his blood as ‘poured out for the sins of many’ (which points to the idea of sacrifice) and as the ‘wine of the new covenant’ (which implies that his blood is the seal of a new contract between humans and God).  But Jesus doesn’t get any more specific than that.  “Do this,” he says, “in memory of me – as often as you eat it”.

So, in Jesus’ words, as with so much of his teaching, there are quite deliberate layers upon layers of meaning.  As we see in today’s Gospel, those who heard him speak were just as perplexed.  ‘How can this man give us his flesh to eat?’ asked the Jews…clearly failing to understand the way that Jesus spoke in metaphors.

I have personally struggled with the meaning of Jesus’ passion for many years.  I’ve read hundreds of different theologians’ take on it.  I could lecture you for hours on the deeper possible layers of meaning that his passionate act of Sacrifice has for so many different people!  But I won’t.  There isn’t time today!

Instead, let me offer you this thought.  Following Jesus is not so much about precisely what you believe, but about how you follow Jesus.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus didn’t tell his followers exactly what to believe about his flesh that they were supposed to eat, or his blood that they were supposed to drink.  Rather, he simply says ‘eat’ and ‘drink’.  It’s a little bit like a parent who says to their child…”do as I say.  Don’t ask why.  Just do it!”.

Following Jesus is an act of faith, not an act of belief.  We can choose to believe all sorts of theological theories about Jesus.  But at the end of the day, Jesus calls out ‘Follow Me’.  Have faith in me. Live as I call you to live.  Live openly & generously.  Give freely, and you will receive.  Give up your life, and you will have life.  Love God and love your neighbour as yourself.  That’s the key, that’s the heart of it.

Don’t get hung up on the theological niceties…but rather, as the old hymn says:  Trust and obey, for there’s no other way to be happy in Jesus but to trust and obey.

Amen.