The cost of being a disciple...

 John 15.9-17

To watch this sermon, please click here: https://youtu.be/6SXRKLJpkj0 

Last week, we heard the first 8 verses of John 15, where the focus was on abiding in and with Jesus, so that we can be well-grafted onto the Vine of faith.  You’ll recall, I hope, that I suggested this requires a bit of effort on our part.  ‘Pray more, worship more and give more’, was the strapline I proposed.  This week, we move on to the next section of this really important bit of teaching from Jesus.

Abiding in Christ remains a focus, but now Jesus expands on his theme to include the topic of love.  He says, “If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love…”.  He goes on to encourage his disciples to ‘love one another as he has loved them’, and goes still further to say that he no longer thinks of his disciples as servants, but rather as his friends.

Wow!  Let’s just pause and think about that for a moment.  Jesus, the Lord of the Universe through whom all things were made wants to call you and me his ‘friends’!  Isn’t that mind-blowing?  What’s more, he wants to introduce us to his Father!

These concepts are SO far beyond what believers of the time were taught to believe.  They would have struggled to even grasp the concept.  For the vast majority of religious people at the time of Jesus, God, any god, was a remote, distant, unknowable mystery.  The Jewish understanding of God placed him at a marked distance from human beings – either up a mountain, or behind a great curtain, living in the Holy of Holies – a place which even the High Priest could only enter once a year.  And now, here was Jesus, God’s son, saying that he sought not just servants, but friends.

But here we need to sound a note of caution.  This is God, through Jesus saying he wants to be our friend – but there are some conditions to that friendship.  “You are my friends,” he says, “if you do what I command you”. 

There is a tendency in some quarters of Christianity to regard Jesus in rather familiar terms.   Some of the worship songs of the last century have, in my view, a rather mawkish, almost romantic quality to them, as indeed do some of our most familiar Victorian hymns: “What a friend we have in Jesus”, for example.  Such songs almost (and in some cases actually) sound more like love songs between two human beings.  They are passionate, loving or pleading in tone.  They lay on with a trowel the concept of love between creator and creature – leading some commentators to cheekily refer to them as ‘Jesus is my boyfriend songs’.

But we must not over-sentimentalise what Jesus is offering to his disciples in this passage.  Friendship with Jesus arises out of his gracious offer of friendship.  He, gracefully, mercifully, initiates a relationship of friendship.  Despite all the ways we fall short of his standards and teaching, the Lord of the Universe reaches down to his creatures, and offers us his hand.  But, it is a steel hand, in a velvet glove.  There is a condition attached – the condition of obedience to his commandments.    Jesus offers us his friendship, but we have a stark choice to make.  We can only be his friends if we keep his commandments.

This means, of course, taking Jesus seriously – which is something of what I meant last week when I talked about praying more, worshipping more and giving more.  In some Christian circles, it is possible to get so caught up in adoration, love and worship of the God who offers us friendship, and fills us with his Spirit, that we forget his friendship comes with conditions. 

Because, you see, how we live our lives matters.   If we live with hatred or unforgiveness in our hearts, we are failing to keep Jesus’ commandments.  If we live with greed or avarice, jealousy or infidelity, we fall far short of the standards that Jesus requires of those he calls friends.  If we fail to care for the poor, and the broken hearted, we cannot call ourselves Jesus’ friends.

But, lest anyone should think that I’m saying we can earn our place in the Kingdom by our own efforts, let me be clear.  None of us can ever do that.  None of us, not even the saintliest among us, can hope to be good enough to earn Jesus’ friendship.  Jesus offers his friendship despite our failings, out of his love and his grace.  But, if we accept that friendship, we also accept the obligations that his friendship places upon us.  It’s simply not good enough to say ‘I’m a friend of Jesus’, but then to fail to make any significant changes in the way we live our life.  Jesus may have indeed paid the price, but there is still a cost to being a disciple.  We may even be called upon to lay down our lives, as did our patron, Saint Faith and most of the first disciples.  For "no one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends".

The good news, of course, is that Jesus never stops reaching out his hand of friendship, even if the velvet glove conceals a steel hand.  He is always willing to forgive his friends, whenever we fall.  He always keeps his hand held out, for us to grasp and be drawn upwards.  Jesus offers us his love, and his friendship.  He initiates that relationship, by his Divine grace and mercy.  All he asks of us is that we follow him, live like him, and obey his life-giving, world-changing commandments. Amen

Are traditions stifling us?

To watch this sermon, please click here: https://youtu.be/Yfq-IdJL3Pk

Today’s Gospel essentially centres on the theme of abiding in Christ, which I dealt with in some depth on Sunday.  So, if you’d like to explore what ‘abiding’ really means, I encourage you to read that sermon in this week’s Chronicle, out today.

Instead, let’s focus on the first reading we heard, from chapter 15 of the Acts of the Apostles.  The reading was part of the record of the first Council of Church leaders, in Jerusalem.  We don’t know the exact date of this important conference, but it took place somewhere between 15 to 25 years after the death and resurrection of Jesus.  By this time, as the Acts of the Apostles tells, the Good News about Jesus had spread to many countries outside of Israel and Judea.  Paul and Barnabas had been especially determined to spread the Good News – travelling into Syria, and over to Cyprus, for example. 

As a result, a lot of non-Jews, known as ‘Gentiles’ had become converted to faith in Jesus.  They had become followers of The Way, and the title ‘Christ-ian’ was beginning to be used, at first as an insult by the enemies of Jesus’ followers.  But all these new converts were being brought into what was still regarded (in most quarters) as a Jewish sect (following the famous Jewish Rabbi called Jesus of Nazareth).   Some of the early Christians present at the Council of Jerusalem were also Pharisees.  Under any normal rules of Jewish sects, any man who wished to become a Jew had to go through circumcision – which had always been regarded as a sign of God’s Covenant with the Jews and Israelites.  The Pharisees were especially keen on this rule – as Pharisees tended to be!

Of course, for Jews this rather painful procedure was carried out soon after birth, and completely forgotten.  But for an adult convert, it was another matter altogether!  The early church was discovering, unsurprisingly, that there was a fair amount of resistance to the idea of circumcision, from potential converts!

So the Council of church leaders was called to work out how this difficult situation could be resolved.  In all likelihood, this was one of the most important decisions that the early church would ever make, if the Good News of Jesus Christ was to travel to the ends of the earth. 

St Peter had already had to confront the issue of whether or not to include Gentiles in the faith.  God had given him a vision of ritually clean and unclean food, and commanded him to eat them all, while God said to Peter, effectively, ‘who are you to decide who is in or out of the Kingdom of God?’.  So Peter was already convinced that Gentiles needed to be included in the Kingdom.  He therefore searched the Scriptures for evidence that this was indeed God’s plan too.  In the writings of the prophet Amos, he found these words:

After this I will return and rebuild David’s fallen tent.

Its ruins I will rebuild, and I will restore it, that the rest of mankind may seek the Lord,  even all the Gentiles who bear my name, says the Lord, who does these things’

This was a promise from God through Amos, that David’s Tent (a metaphor for Jerusalem), rebuilt after the Exile, would be a place for all peoples, Jews and Gentiles, to seek the Lord.  At the Council of Jerusalem, Peter used this passage of Scripture to underpin what God had already shown him:  that the Kingdom of God was for all people, not just the Jews.

Of course, Peter also had his own direct experience of Jesus’s ministry to underpin his argument.  He had witnessed how Jesus opened his arms to everyone.  Jesus had spoken lovingly to a Samaritan woman at the well.  He had preached all around the non-Jewish areas of Tyre and Sidon.  He had healed the child of a Roman Centurion, and commended his faith.  By his lived-example, Jesus showed, again and again, that the new Kingdom of God embraced everyone!

Thankfully, for our sakes (especially for the men among us!) Peter won the day at the first church council at Jerusalem.  Peter had the grace to recognise and argue that Jesus’ Kingdom was meant for the whole earth, not just the chosen nation of Israel and Judea.  Thankfully, he was able to persuade the rest of the Council of his view – and the rest, as they say, is history.  Followers of the Way, Christians, began springing up all over the known world, drawn by the promise and the message of new Kingdom of God, being established. 

And so ends our history lesson for today!  The question for us is whether there are aspects of our rules, our traditions, which stand in the way of new Followers of the Way being invited into the church of today.  That’s a question with which church leaders of today constantly wrestle.  Could it be that robes and cassocks are a barrier to new people joining us?  Could it be that our choice of music is too ‘out-of-date’?  Perhaps our use of 17^th century English at this Thursday service is just too much for some people to stomach?

I wrestle with these questions a lot.  Take music, for example.  Some of you will know that I have a history of playing rock and roll, blues and soul music in my spare time.  Personally, I love music played on electric guitars and with a heavy drum-beat.  But if I were to start playing such music on a Sunday morning, while ditching our traditional hymns, would it really bring a lot more people into the church?  What if I were to stop wearing robes, and stand here in jeans and a T-shirt instead?  It’s a question I often ask – and frankly, I’m not sure what the answer is.  During my ministry, I’ve led small churches which use drums and guitars, as well as large ones which use traditional music.  It’s never an easy decision to make.

The best, I think, that we can do is to always stay alert.  We must always ask ourselves whether anything we do could be a stumbling block to the growth of the Kingdom of God here in Havant.  I believe that we must keep asking that question, just as the first Council of Jerusalem did.  And we must remain genuinely open to hearing God’s answer.  Amen.

  

"Pray more, worship more and give more!"

 John 15.1-8

To watch this sermon, please click here: https://youtu.be/HBFYVIObFZw

“Abide”.  It’s a lovely word, isn’t it?  A quick search of the etymological dictionary tells me that is rooted in an old English word – abiden or gebiden – which meant to remain, or to wait.  My New Testament Greek isn’t good enough to parse the meaning of the original word used by Jesus, which we translate as ‘abide’.  But translators over the centuries have routinely stuck with ‘abide’ as the best rendering of what Jesus meant.  ‘Abide in me’.  Or deeper still, ‘abide in me as I abide in you’. 

Incidentally, it’s not the word which Sydney Carter chose when writing the Lord of the Dance – as we shall see when we sing it shortly.  Carter went for ‘I’ll live in you if you’ll live in me’ – but probably because that fitted the line of his poetry.  But ‘abiding’ is a much more complex idea.

There’s a richness to the word, which goes beyond simply ‘staying’ with Jesus, of hanging around with him.  The word ‘abide’ is linked with ‘abode’ in Old English (which meant a place to stay, to remain).  If we are abiding in Jesus, and Jesus abides in us, then, we are doing much more than hanging out with the Messiah.  We are living with him, staying with him, waiting for him, remaining with him – as he does with us.  There’s a deep closeness to the relationship.  Indeed, like grapes on a Vine, we are connected to him.  We draw our very life, energy and sustenance from him.

I wonder how many of you have experienced the Taizé style of worship which we offer from time to time in the evenings.  Taizé is a method of praying through song, in which a short phrase is repeated, and repeated, until it sinks into your very soul.  There’s one Taizé chant which always challenges me.  It is centred around Jesus’ rebuke to his disciples who fall asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane:

“Stay with me.  Remain here with me.  Watching and praying.  Watching and praying’. 

I say that this chant challenges me because whenever I sing it, I feel guilty for finishing it and moving on to something else!  The chant, and Jesus’ word, encourage me to remain, to abide, and not to go off searching for the next experience, or the next bit of sensory input.  In many ways, this one chant should be enough, in a whole Taizé service, to teach us to abide.

Because, let’s face it, we’re not very good at abiding, are we?  I wonder how many of us have a to-do list in our heads of all the things we need to get done immediately after today’s service.  For example, I understand that quite a few of you can be found wandering the halls of Waitrose after church – I’m told it’s like a post-church social club over there!  No doubt most of us will be thinking about what to cook for Sunday lunch.  Then there will be the need to do a bit of gardening, or to go for that walk, or meet up with those friends.  Then there will be some absolutely vital episodes of Line of Duty to catch up with.  But there won’t be much abiding going on, will there?

Please don’t think I’m being critical….my own to-do list after this service will be just as crammed.  I’ll spend some time on the ol’ interweb, uploading this sermon, and responding to comments and queries on our web-pages.  I’ll no doubt have an inbox of emails to answer, I’ll have some diary-planning to accomplish, I’ll have next week’s sermons to start researching.  I won’t be doing much abiding, either, if I’m honest.

So what shall we do, friends?  How shall we abide in Jesus – so that we can be so grafted on to him that when we pray, we will seek only what he wills for the world, and then see our prayers answered?  How shall we do this?

There’s an old adage which I learned 20 years ago in my training for the priesthood.  A wise old tutor at my college said that all preachers need to be wary of settling into a predictable pattern.  He said that there’s a real danger that all sermons can be boiled down into three points, which are ‘pray more, worship more, and give more – preferably to the church!’.   My wise old tutor encouraged us to think more widely, to embrace poetry, philosophy, and theology in our sermons – because our listeners will pretty soon give up listening if all they hear is a constant nagging to ‘pray more, worship more, and give more’!   The task of the preacher has to be to encourage, enlighten and build up their listeners…not to weigh them down with guilt about what they are not managing to achieve.  It was good advice, and its advice which I hope you’ll agree I generally follow.  But….

…at the end of the day, doing more of what we already do, in varying degrees of depth and commitment, is really the only way that any of us can ever truly abide in Jesus. 

·       If the only attention we pay to God is the one hour we devote on a Sunday morning, then we will never really know the deep joy of abiding in him. 

·       If the only time we pray is when we cry out for favours from God in times of crisis, we’ll never know the joy of uniting our wills to God’s will:  we will miss the joy of praying with him, and through him, and in him, for the things that delight God’s heart.

·       If the only money we ever give is the minimum we think we can ‘get away with’, then we’ll never know the real joy of giving sacrificially, and seeing God’s kingdom come powerfully to pass amongst us. 

In other words, truly ‘abiding’ in Jesus takes time.  We are in charge of how we use our time:  God has given us that gift, and that ability.  If we are to remain grafted to the Vine, if we want to truly abide in Christ, then how we choose to use our time, and indeed our money, is critical. 

‘Pray more, worship more, and give more’!  My old tutor was right to warn me against over-using that concept.  But from time to time, perhaps we all need a little encouragement:  to take the next step of commitment towards the goal of truly abiding in Christ.  Amen

 

Leading through serving...

The Humble Servant

John 13.16

“Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them.”

My grandmother, long since departed, was born in the early years of the 20^th century.  All her life, she worked as a cleaner – a profession of which she was very proud.  Everything had to be neat, tidy and beautifully cared-for.  With a tin of brasso in one hand, and a polishing cloth in the other, her home was always immaculate – every surface polished, and everything in its place.  (It’s more than possible that my own slight obsession with tidiness was inherited from my Grandma.  I think it’s probably her fault that poor old Sandra has to suffer in relative silence when I moan about the state of the Vestry, or insist that the Altar needs to be moved by half an inch!)

            Like many young girls at the turn of the last century, my Grandmother’s profession as a cleaner started at a very young age.  At 14, she was packed off from her little Brixham home to a big house in Torquay, where, in her words, she ‘went into service’.  She started by raking out and setting fire-places for the whole house, long before the days of central heating.  The rest of her days were spent scrubbing and washing and sweeping and cleaning.  In return for her ‘service’, she was given room and board and a small amount of pocket money – which she brought home to her parents on her occasional day off.  My grandmother was, in fact, a servant in the time when we still knew what servant-hood was. 

Around that same time, I believe that the typical Rectory would have had five or six servants to look after the Rector and his family.  (Ah!  Those were the days!)  These days, we engage professional cleaners, or gardeners, or other household professions for those tasks we can’t do for ourselves.  But they are not servants.  They are ‘trades-people’ – and there is equity between us.  We all play our part in keeping society going, each one contributing what they do best to the good of the whole.  On the whole, I think ours is a superior system…but it does mean that we have somewhat forgotten the force of the metaphor of a servant, when Jesus uses it.

            Servants were, of course, a well-defined class in Jesus’ time.  Usually, they were actual slaves – who had no choice about the job they were required to do.  In fact, whenever Jesus talks about ‘servants’ in the New Testament, the original word he used was ‘slave’.  There were clear lines of delineation, between slaves and their master.  It was very clear who was in charge, and whose rules were to be followed.  To be a servant – a slave – was to be one of the humblest members of society. 

            It was, for example, the job of a servant to wash the feet of anyone who entered their Master’s house.  First century roadways were full of muck, including horse and donkey muck, of course.  And everyone wore open-toed sandals.  So, washing someone’s feet was no happy task!  Which is why Jesus’ disciples were so scandalised by their Master being so insistent on washing their feet, before the Last Supper.  It was an act of complete abasement.  It was the worst job of the moment.  It was the job of the humblest slave.

             And yet this is what Jesus taught his disciples.  He taught them that to be the humblest of servants was their calling in life.  This was what he called them to: not power, authority, command and mastery.  But service.  Or in its Latin-based equivalent:  ministry.

            It does me no harm at all to be reminded from time to time that I am called to be your servant!  Of course, some of that service is expressed through the giving of leadership and teaching – which feels rather paradoxical, to be honest.  But leadership which is based in the concept of ‘servant-hood’ is a very different kind of leadership than that which is based in the concept of being a ‘Master’.  I lead you, to the best of my ability, as an act of service.  My motivation is your growth, and your thriving.  Someone who leads from the view-point of a Master may be said to be seeking to feather their own nest, or to advance only their own desires.

            It is for that very reason that Government leaders are also called ‘Ministers’.  The leadership of a nation should never be about gaining ‘mastery’ or power.  Neither should it be about the ‘feathering of one’s own nest’.  We may well ask whether any politician who seeks a form of ‘kingship’ as a result of their elevation to power is really suited to be the kind of servant-leader that the job of a minister, or even a ‘prime minister’ requires.

            Jesus tells us, in today’s Gospel, that a servant is not greater than their Master.  For a politician, that means remembering always that the electorate is their Master.  For a Christian, it means never failing to heed the teaching of our Master, Jesus himself. 

Everything we do, in the service of others or of God, must be done within the framework that Jesus himself lays down.  So when Jesus tells us that forgiveness is the route to salvation, we must learn to forgive.  When Jesus warns us that greed is not the pathway to joy, then we must learn to give things up.  When Jesus teaches us that suffering is the route to healing, we must take him at his word.

            As servants of the Most High God, and ministers of Jesus Christ, we are all called to embrace the radical, servant-leadership that he himself models for us.  For if it’s good enough for our master, it’s good enough for us slaves.  Amen.   

           

           

Is Jesus the ONLY way?

Acts 4.5-12 and John 10.1-10

To watch this sermon, please click here: https://youtu.be/KBGICvhqk1o

Believe it or not, we have now laboured and suffered together, you and I, for a little over 6 years.  (I took up this post in February 2015).  I acknowledge that you have done most of the suffering!  I’m quite certain that most of what I’ve said in that time, from this pulpit, has filtered only into your subconscious.  But there is one mantra which I have repeated SO many times, that I hope you’ve all got it by now.  It’s my mantra about how to read the Bible.  I call it the ‘three Cs’ of Bible reading.  So, let’s see if I’m right.  Tell me…what are the Three Cs of Bible reading?  Context.  Context.  Context.

My message has been that when we tackle any portion of Scripture, we must bear three contexts in mind.  The first is the context of the original story.  The second is the context of the writer of the story – sometimes decades, sometimes centuries later.  The third and final context is our context.  What is going on in our world, in our lives, that is affected by this story?

Today we are confronted by two very bold claims, made by St Peter, on trial before the Jewish Leaders, and then by Jesus, as recorded in John.  These are bold claims of exclusivity for the Christian faith. 

In our first reading, from Acts 4, Peter says ‘There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved’.  Then, in our Gospel reading, Jesus warns the Pharisees that he is the only ‘gate for the sheep’, and that anyone who enters into the sheepfold (that is, the Kingdom of Heaven) by any other route is a ‘thief and a robber’.

These are bold claims indeed.  But before we rush to condemn the believers of all other religions to eternal damnation, let’s use our tool of the Three Cs.

The context for both Peter and Jesus was a context of Roman military occupation.  Augustus Caesar (who ruled at the time of Jesus’ birth) believed that he literally had come from heaven to earth.  Caesar claimed that he was the son of God incarnate on earth. He used skilful propaganda to spread his message. Sound-bites like: “Caesar is Lord!” and “There is no other name under heaven by which people can be saved than that of Caesar.” He also had a 12-day celebration of his birth called the “Advent of Caesar.” You could even give him offerings so that your sins could be forgiven. He was, according to his own propaganda, “King of Kings and Lord of Lords.”

Do you recognise these phrases?  I’m sure you do.  These were political catchphrases of the day which Jesus and his disciples deliberately subverted, to spread the message that the true Kingdom of God would be nothing like the militaristic, greedy and violent rule of Rome.  Both Jesus, and then Peter, were making a political statement, as well as a spiritual one.

By the time that the Scriptures recording those events were being written down, Rome’s violent rule had progressed even to the tearing down of the Temple (in the year 70) and to the violent destruction of Jerusalem itself.  The Jews had been scattered across the known world, forced into becoming refugees – at situation which would last until the 20^th century.  The context of the writers of these Scriptures was therefore even more political than those of the speakers they recorded.  They wrote to offer hope to the persecuted and frightened followers of Jesus of Nazareth, that their faith was not in vain.  They wanted to encourage them to hold fast, even against the terror and power of Rome.

And what about our context?  Well, many of the same brutal forces which propelled the Roman Emperors are still in operation today.  Violence is still used as a means of imposing the will of the powerful.  Political slogans are still lapped up enthusiastically by the unthinking popular crowd.  Consumerism is a stronger force then it ever was for Rome.  Not only do we import luxury goods from foreign lands, just as the Romans did, we also want those goods to be made as cheaply as possible, driving millions of low-paid workers into slave-like conditions. 

So, we are wise if we understand Jesus’ claim to being the only gateway of salvation to be at least partly a political claim.  But what about its spiritual dimensions?  Is Jesus saying that his gate is the only way to heaven, as well?

In his context, he probably was.  His ‘Kingdom of God’ stood in direct opposition to the other dominant religious ideas of his day.  Judaism had become corrupt, and bound by life-choking legalism, and wasteful animal sacrifice.  Rome’s claim that the Emperor was the path to spiritual salvation (as well as economic salvation) was clearly nonsense.  None of the other religious ideas of the time were free from notions of legalism, control by powerful elites, and animal (or even human) sacrifice.  Jesus was providing the only path to God, in his context, which didn’t employ violence or greed and corruption at the heart of their method.

But, reading these Scriptures into our context, can we really state with confidence that Jesus would condemn to hell the likes of Mahatma Gandhi, or the Dali Lama?  Would he condemn any number of other peace-loving, violence-rejecting, consumerism-fighting, resource-sharing, enlightenment-seeking religious people of our day, of our context?   After a life-time of reading and studying his words, I honestly can’t believe that he would.

I am a Christian largely because I was born into a Christian family, in a nominally Christian country.  But if I’d been born in Tibet, or India, or Mecca, the spirit of God would have undoubtedly reached out to me through other gates, other paths. I would have been drawn towards other religions which honour the same core principles of the Kingdom of God – peace, selflessness, love, forgiveness, and respect for all creation. 

For me, Jesus Christ remains the greatest, clearest and most noble expression of what a spirit-filled life looks like.  He is the author and perfecter of my faith.  I’m glad and honoured to own the title of being a Christ-ian.  But, like you I hope, I also understand the context of the Scriptures we’ve inherited, the context in which they were written, and the context in which we read them.  Such an understanding means that I must take the claims of exclusivity with the pinch of salt which I believe all thinking Christians must also do.

Amen.

For England and St George?

To watch this sermon, please click here:  https://youtu.be/7b1VknXRveo

Tomorrow, the 23^rd of April, is of course St George’s Day.  Given the patriotic sentiments which are naturally abroad in the nation at the present time, I thought it would be interesting to explore this theme.  Let’s start by asking what we know about St George himself.  The answer is ‘precious little’!  In fact, in the year 494, Pope Gelasius I stated that George was among those saints (and I quote) “whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose actions are known only to God”. 

Further research tells me that for every story or legend about St George, there are two or three others which tell a different story.  But here’s a reasonable summary of what we may know about him:

George was probably a Syrian, and a Roman soldier living in Palestine at the beginning of the fourth century. He was martyred at the town of Lod, south-east of Tel Aviv in about the year 304.  This was the time of the persecutions of Diocletian (the same persecutions which ended the life of St Faith of Aquitaine).  George became known throughout the East as ‘The Great Martyr’. There were churches in England dedicated to him before the Norman conquest, from as far back as 704 in Dorset, for example.

The story of his slaying the dragon may be due to his being mistaken in religious paintings (icons) for St Michael, himself usually depicted wearing armour; or it may be a mistaken identification with Perseus’s slaying of the sea monster, a myth also associated with Lod.

George is, of course, not only England’s Patron Saint.  He is also the Patron of Ethiopia – a fact of which I love to remind white supremacists, when they try to appropriate George to their warped cause.  He is also the Patron Saint of Portugal, and of the Mediterranean Islands of Malta and Gozo. George is the Patron Saint of the Orthodox Church, whose depictions of him in icons are legendary.  The famous flag of St George – the red cross on a white background – was first conceived by the city-state of Genoa, in Italy. 

It is for me, an encouraging idea that England has chosen, as its Patron saint, such a multi-cultural figure as St George.  The other major countries of the British Isles are rather more parochial in their outlook.  Andrew was chosen for Scotland quite probably because Scotland was claimed to be the final resting place of that great Apostle.  Patrick was a Briton, but he did a fantastic job of converting the Irish to Christianity.  David was a Welshman, indeed a Bishop of Wales.  But England?  Well we used to have a Patron Saint who was a a native of Britain – namely Edward the Confessor, the last King of Wessex, who died in 1066.  St Thomas of Canterbury was another prime candidate for a while.  But they were all replaced by George, the warrior saint, who was venerated around the world, and a truly international symbol.  It was, in fact, only during the reign of Edward VI, in 1552, that George ascended fully to the status of England’s only and official Patron Saint.

Another irony of St George is the extent to which he is venerated by Muslims.  George features quite large in ancient Islamic texts, and he is still the subject of many prayers among Muslim people.  There’s a lovely story of when William Dalrymple visited the Shrine of St George in Beit Jala, in the West Bank, in 1995.  He asked the priest at the shrine "Do you get many Muslims coming here?" The priest replied, "We get hundreds! Almost as many as the Christian pilgrims. Often, when I come in here, I find Muslims all over the floor, in the aisles, up and down!”.

So, let’s review what we know.  George was a Syrian, and Roman soldier, who died in Israel.  He is venerated by both Christians and Muslims, by the Orthodox Church, by an African nation, across the Middle East and by other major European powers.  So when people wonder why I proudly fly the Cross of St George from the tower of this church building, I tell them this:  to appropriate George as some kind of narrow English nationalist is a remarkably ignorant thing to do.  It’s a laughable example of an own-goal!  George represents one of the most multicultural saints that I can think of!  He is loved and venerated across the world, from Russian to Africa, all across Europe and the Middle East, and (thanks to the Portuguese) across much of South America too.  He is a symbol of universal brotherhood, and the battle against the dragons of our weaker human natures which seek to corral us into tribes, locked in hatred and mistrust against each other.

And let's remember something important about all saints, to whose example we look:  no-one ever became a Saint by looking out for ‘Number One’.  No-one ever became a Saint by putting up borders and failing to offer aid.  No-one ever became a Saint by hoarding personal wealth, or failing to feed the hungry.  St George stands as an exemplar of saint-hood…someone whose story embraces all humanity, and whose life was poured out in sacrifice.  May we all have the courage to follow such an example as St George!

Amen

Divine Reading

 I wonder if you’ve ever heard the phrase ‘Lectio Divina’.  It’s Latin – and it translates literally as ‘Divine Reading’.  It’s a practice from ancient times, of (essentially) reading Scripture very slowly, carefully and prayerfully, to allow each word, phrase and theological concept the time to settle into one’s soul: time for the Spirit of God to commune with the Spirit of Man. 

Today, we are confronted with a blizzard of theological ideas, from the mouth of John the Baptiser.  The context is that people have been quizzing John about this new prophet who has appeared on the scene – this Jesus of Nazareth fellow.  Who is he? (the crowd is wondering).  Is he the Messiah that John foretold?

In response, John speaks in phrases and words which come at us like bullets from a gun.  Frankly, without taking the time to read them carefully, they can wash over us…like some of my more theological sermons!  We need to take time to fully absorb the importance of what John is saying. 

Lectio Divina gives us a simple, practical tool for doing just that.  Divine Reading has been a practice of the church since at least the time of St Benedict (in the 6^th Century).  It fell out of fashion in some quarters, but in the 20^th and 21^st Century it has been somewhat revived as a useful, spiritual tool.  The Second Vatican Council recommended its revival.  Pope Benedict re-affirmed the idea at the start of the 21^st Century.  And it’s a technique taught by Spiritual Directors and Guides all over the world.

Put simply, Lectio Divina – Divine Reading – is a four stage process:

1)    reading/listening

2)    meditation

3)    prayer

4)    and contemplation.

Let’s just unpack those a bit:

First, choose a text to focus on.

For example the chosen text can be from Eucharistic liturgy, daily prayers or affirmations, or from the Gospel; there are no specific requirements regarding the texts used during this practice: nor are there requirements on reading a certain amount each time you practice the Lectio Divina.  It could be a long passage, or just a few words.

Next, embrace silence.

Focus on your breathing, or repeat a prayer silently, as you relax and allow yourself to let go of noise and distractions. Once you are silent and focused, you can start to intently read the text you chose.

Read the text

Take your time, read very slowly, in order to take in each individual word and its sound. While reading, be sure that you are also listening, as you wander calmly through the words about and of God. When you arrive to a word or phrase that you feel grabs your attention, stop, and repeat it, memorizing it, absorbing it.  If the text contains a story, take time to imagine yourself as one of the characters in the story.  What would they have felt?  What might God have been saying to them?

If you find a phrase or a word that you don’t understand, make a note of it, or underline it for later study.  You could look it up, later, on the internet.  Or you could ask me, or another priest, for an explanation of what is being said.

You may find your thoughts wandering into memories, or current worries and distractions.  This is part of the process. This is you offering your thoughts, concerns, and mind to God and this, in turn, is God speaking and listening to you.

This should lead you to the next phase, of conversing with God;

You can “speak” with your thoughts, ideas, your inner voice, or out loud. Or you could draw or paint your thoughts.  You should feel calm and relaxed: this is you interacting with God, who is happy to visit with you. Then you can remain in contemplative silence, in God’s company, and return to the text when you feel it’s right.

Remember that the goal is not to complete a certain amount of text or reading, but to connect with God by reading his words.

Let’s try this technique with just half of one of the verses from today’s Gospel: “He whom God has sent speaks the words of God….”  (John 3.34)

We’ve selected our text.  Now, be still.  Let silence encompass you. 

Ready?  Now read the text, slowly, thoughtfully, questioningly…

“He who God has sent…”  Who is that referring to?  Well it’s John speaking.  And we know he was being asked questions about Jesus.  So this must refer to Jesus – that’s the ‘He’.  But what happened to him…’He who God has sent…’  So Jesus was sent by God.  His being among us wasn’t an accident of fate or history.  His arrival among us was a deliberate act of a loving Father-God.    But what’s next?  What did he do?

“He….speaks the words of God”.  So Jesus speaks the words of God.  Does that mean that his words have special power, special authority?  Are Jesus’ words different from the other words we read in the Bible? Perhaps the other words we read are inspired by God…like a mountain inspires a painter.  But not the actual words of God.  Those are Jesus’ words alone.  So what does that mean?  Does it mean that we should pay more attention to Jesus’ words?  Is that why some Bibles print Jesus’ words in red ink?  Is that why the book of the Gospels is paraded before reading, rather than just read from the Bible like other readings?

I could go on…but I hope you get the idea.  Out of just 10 words, a whole parade of questions, insights, and contemplation can flow.  And having done that task, Lectio Divina invites us to converse with God….so let us pray:

Father, thank you for sending Jesus to us.  Thank you for choosing to send him, out of your love for us.  Thank you for speaking to us, so clearly, so beautifully, so powerfully through the words he spoke while he was among us.  Thank you for his wisdom.  Thank you for his stories, and his insight.  Thank for the Love he conveyed.  Help me, Father, to listen more keenly to Jesus words, every day.  Help me to respond to them with joy, and with purpose.   Amen.