Showing posts with label Prophets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Prophets. Show all posts

Sunday, 10 August 2025

More (and more) on the Prophets: God as passionate

 Sermon. 10 August 2025. St George’s, Saham Toney.

Trinity 8 (Year C. Continuous Reading for Old Testament)

 

Isaiah 1.1; 10-20

Luke 12.32-40

 

Let us reflect on today’s first reading, from the Old Testament. I’ll just remind you why there’s a strong case for doing this. We are now in the long Green season of Sundays after Trinity (also called Ordinary Time), a season which extends all the way to All Saints (to keep it simple). And this year one of the things we are doing in this long season is working our way through edited highlights of certain Old Testament books. Concretely, edited highlights of the Prophets. Today, we begin our look at Isaiah. This is an in-depth study of the longest book of prophecy in the Old Testament (by some distance), and this deep dive is going to take us all of… two weeks. (To be fair, we do pretty much rely on Isaiah in important seasons of the Church year.)

 

Isaiah helpfully tells us when he was active. We’ve just heard. It was from the reign of King Uzziah to the reign of King Hezekiah. These are kings of the Southern Kingdom, of Judah, and Judah, with its capital in Jerusalem, is Isaiah’s focus. Later Isaiah clarifies that he had his dramatic vision and commissioning in the year that Uzziah died (see chapter 6 for details). Uzziah came to the throne somewhere around 790-780 BCE and died about 750-740.  Hezekiah died in 687. That gives us a span of some 60 years or so when Isaiah prophesied. Is that possible?... I say it is. It’s true some historians say that average life expectancy in the ancient world was around 35. But that’s the average, the arithmetic mean. We get that figure because so many people died in childhood. A significant proportion did live to a ripe old age.

 

You may have noticed that all this means that Isaiah is a younger contemporary of our old friend… our old friend, Amos (and also of Hosea, who we have also been looking at in our cycle of readings). You may also have noticed that Isaiah’s message is remarkably similar to Amos’s. For all Amos was speaking to the Northern Kingdom (Israel), and Isaiah is speaking to the Southern Kingdom, Judah, the core message here is the same. It is and remains a challenging, a sharp message. So, brace yourselves all over again.

 

The message:

12 When you come to appear before me,
    who asked this from your hand?
    Trample my courts no more!
13 Bringing offerings is futile;
    incense is an abomination to me.
New moon and Sabbath and calling of convocation—
    I cannot endure solemn assemblies with iniquity.
14 Your new moons and your appointed festivals
    my soul hates;
they have become a burden to me;
    I am weary of bearing them.
15 When you stretch out your hands,
    I will hide my eyes from you;
even though you make many prayers,
    I will not listen…

… 16b cease to do evil;
17     learn to do good;
seek justice;
    rescue the oppressed;
defend the orphan;
    plead for the widow
.

 

In other words:

You, the people of the covenant, the people of my choosing, are good at coming to do what you think is worshipping me. You positively enjoy doing the very things I have set out for you to do, as worship of me. I have no complaints about your enthusiasm, your religious enthusiasm, your religious commitment. You love calling upon me. You love prayer. But, however much you relish it, and however much you think you are addressing me and pleasing me, I say you are frauds. The whole thing is a lie. And I haven’t hidden from you why it’s a lie. I will spell it out again: you have to care about justice. You have to live care-fully. You have to care about the people who you push out.

 

Do you remember Amos saying just this a few weeks ago? Also like Amos, Isaiah has God say both

·        on the one hand: I am judging you for this, and condemning you, and you have lost it, and

·        on the other hand: all you have to do is change your ways, and I will forgive you, and we will be reconciled.  

 

Remember also that the point is not that the people who come to worship come as sinners. We all do that. That’s something like the human condition, this side of Kingdom Come. The point is that the people had become blind to their own sins. They were so convinced they were pleasing God by being the people who did the religious things with fervour, that they’d stopped thinking about how they live their lives. They shut God out of all of that. That truly is a warning to all of us.

 

In general, I do not like to repeat myself. Well, maybe I do indulge in repetition too often, over the years. But not normally every four weeks. I’d understand if you feel there is little new in what I have said here, given what I said about Amos, four weeks ago. But in my defence, sometimes the texts over different weeks mesh so closely together, that it would be simply wrong to say they differ in their import. (But notice one difference, for all that: I am not – I am not - suggesting you sit down this afternoon and read the whole of Isaiah. That’s a rather different task from reading the whole of Amos.)

 

Throughout these weeks, these weeks of the Prophets, we have to come to know how prophetic rhetoric works. It tends to be:

judgment; condemnation; judgment; condemnation; judgment, condemnation; promise, mercy, restoration, feasting.

All together. No intervening stage. Rather, hand-break turns.

The Prophets were not what we might call “systematic”; they did not have a system of how God is. They did not even seek consistency, not even from God. They make us do the work of looking for the golden thread among all their messages. It is we who have to see how it might all cohere.

 

I am confident that the golden thread is that promise, that mercy, that restoration, and that feasting, which I have just mentioned. I see it this way. Even when the Prophets say God is angry, they are saying that, if it ever comes to it, God would rather be thought of as angry, than be thought of as cool, cold, indifferent, or uninterested.

 

Don’t get me wrong, I accept that this in itself is hard. Some of us here will have been hurt by people saying: “I only got so angry with you, because I care”, and that can be abuse (let’s name it). But here remember it is rhetorical anger, from God, at one remove, and addressed to the whole people. Nowhere does God say: “I am so angry with you, and I want you to be angry in the same way with those you care for.” The Prophetic word just does not have that sort of consequence. This doesn’t make anger safe or easy, and questions remain. But I say again that the emphasis is that, if it ever comes to it, God would rather be thought of as angry, than be thought of as cool, cold, indifferent or uninterested. God is always close to us, involved with us, tied up with us. God does not want to have it any other way. God feels deeply about God’s people. When it comes down to it, God desires God’s people. God desires us.

 

This is something we also see in today’s Gospel. I am referring to the very opening:

“Do not be afraid, little flock,

for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.”

This is a reassurance only Luke has Jesus give us.

Some details. The word for “flock” here (poímnion) is a diminutive of the normal word for flock. So some would say – though others would say it’s not as big a deal as this – some would say it means something like “flock-let” in English. In itself, it may mean “little flock”. But to this Luke has Jesus add the word for “small” (mikrón – as in mikro-skope or microscope). If I were to translate: “my dear little bunch of lambkins” I am doubtless exaggerating, to make the point. But it is undoubtedly a term of tenderness, of endearment.

 

Then we come to “good pleasure”. That’s a slightly staid expression in modern English. It is close to the original, especially if we think about etymology, about how the word is made up. The Greek (eudókesen) might mean something like “the Father has thought it proper, and seemly, and good, and right”. But I say in context it is closer to: “the Father desires you and delights” in giving you all good things.

 

Can we hear that? Can we hear this, as the message of the Prophets, if we seek out that golden thread from all the other threads?

 

Dear little lambkins, the Father desires you, delights in you, and longs to give you good things.

 

Amen.

Sunday, 4 December 2022

On the fierceness of the New Testament and the gentleness of the Old!

 

Sermon. 4/12/2022. Advent 2 (Year of Matthew)

Isaiah 11.1-10

Matthew 3.1-12

 

There is no football in this sermon.[1] I am not proud of this. I am not ashamed of this.

 

Here’s a thing that does involve some shame. Here is an attitude I think it is hard for us fully to shake off. I mean that sense that

·        the god of the Old Testament is a god of judgement, anger, war, and narrowness;

·        the god of the New Testament is a god of forgiveness, love, peace, and inclusivity.

It is a contrast deeply if quietly embedded in our society.

Even if Christians are now a minority in the country (as we are told we do), some notions are still around.

I suspect that this is one of them.

Bluntly, the god of the New Testament replaces the god of the Old, and it is good that it is so.

 

I have already said that some shame attaches itself to this habit of contrast. So my criticism is implicit already.

Let me be explicit:

this contrast, this antithesis is not a Christian belief.

It has no place in authentic Christianity.

It is at very best an oversimplification a tired Sunday-school teacher might stumble into, on an off-day.

But put more simply: it is heresy, pure.

The Christian claim is that (GOD) is One, and Revelation is one, from Genesis to Revelation.

From Genesis to Revelation, (GOD), the One (GOD),

is faithful, creative, loving, forgiving, is for us, is with us.

 

That’s not all, of course.

Another side to this is that when we think of human beings’ relationship to (GOD), we have to say: “it is complicated”.

And so, again, from Genesis to Revelation,

there is much that is attributed to (GOD)

and even much that really does seem to come from (GOD)

which is sharp, harsh, challenging and dark.

I say again: from Genesis to Revelation. In both Old and New Testaments.

 

Why do I say this now?

If ever we wanted to invert the usual contrast (the tired and heretical contrast)

between the god of the Old Testament (furious)

and the god of the New Testament (fluffy),

we could do a lot worse than begin with today’s readings.

I am thinking of the Gospel

and the text from the Hebrew Scriptures, the Old Testament,

chosen to mirror, or echo, or anticipate, or match it, from Isaiah.

 

Even if you were not paying 100% attention to these readings, 

I think even at a headline level, the contrast was clear:

John the Baptist in the New Testament (the New) brings warning and judgement;

Isaiah in the Old Testament (the Old) brings peace and healing.

That way round.

 

Let us look at some details.

In today’s Gospel, John, the prophet of (GOD) comes and speaks of… sin. 

Worse than that, he addresses people like this:

You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?... every tree… that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. I baptize you with water for repentance, but one who is more powerful than I is coming… He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand… the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.

Stern stuff. It may be even sterner than we realise. From all that John says, we might want to rescue the promise of baptism in the Holy Spirit, and say that the promise of baptism in the Spirit is something good and hopeful and joyful. But I must ask you to curb your enthusiasm. We have to remember that the word for Spirit has a wide range of meanings. The Greek pneuma, like the Hebrew, ruach, means spirit, and it also means breath, and it also means wind. It is all about motion, about energy. So when John the Baptist promises one who will baptise with… wind and fire, he may actually be promising a fire fanned into flame, an out-of-control fire, a conflagration. “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come?”

Contrast all of this (if we call it a message of crisis and purification, we are being kind) with the utterly stately-majestic poetry of the First Reading. A different prophet (not John but Isaiah) promises one who

with righteousness… shall judge the poor, and decide with equity for the meek of the earth… The wolf shall live with the lamb, the leopard shall lie down with the kid, the calf and the lion and the fatling together, and a little child shall lead them… They will not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain; for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the LORD as the waters cover the sea.

No judgement, no wrath, no fire, but welcome, peace and inclusion. 

Transformation beyond your wildest dreams.

Who would not long for such a meeting with (GOD) on these terms?

Again, some details. Again, if anything, our translation understates the peacefulness and transformation of Isaiah’s vision.

Our translation says of the one to come: “with the breath of his lips he shall kill the wicked”. That’s the translators choice. Every bit as close to the Hebrew is to say “with the breath of his lips he shall kill off wickedness”.[2]

The underlying idea is clear:

whatever striking there has to be, it is his mouth which will do it

(speech not sword);

whatever killing-off has to be done, it is his lips which will do it

(words not weapons).

And that in turn is 

because of the spirit of gentleness (variously described in the opening verses) 

which rests upon him.

In Hebrew, the ruach (spirit, breath) rests (nachah) on this one.

Ruach – nachah.

The breathiness is there in the very sounds.

And I think the play on words is intended.

And actually the root words are ruach and nuach.

I have tried – and failed – to come up with a translation that captures this play on words:

The spirit spends free time upon him…

The air is at ease upon him…

The wind whiles away its time upon him…

The breath abides upon him…

None really works. I look forward to your suggestions later.

In any event, that stressed idea 

of rest, of restoration, of peace and ease, 

extends throughout our passage in ways that the English does not make clear.

I give my own translation of the ending. It says:

“This one the peoples will seek out. And glory will be his place of resting.”

Our translation refers to a “glorious dwelling”.

But the word translated “dwelling” is… menuchah.

Menuchah… from (yes) nuach. Place of resting,

A place of resting for the one on whom the restful spirit rests.[3]

No judgement, no wrath, no fire, but welcome, peace and inclusion.

Who would not long for such a meeting with (GOD) on these terms?


So let me say:

we need the fierceness of the Old Testament

and we need the gentleness of the New Testament.

And...

we need the gentleness of the Old Testament

and we need the fierceness of the New Testament.

The Testaments are not easily contrasted, 

and are not to be contrasted.

(GOD) is both fierce and gentle.

The life of faith exposes us to things gentle and fierce.

And it is good that it is so.


As for what combination of gentleness and fierceness will best suit the England team today, I keep my self-denying ordinance.


Amen.  



[1] That evening England were playing Senegal in the first knock-out rounds of the World Cup.

[2] Hebrew: U-ve-ruach sephatav yamit resha’ – resha’ is properly an adjective meaning a wicked person/thing.

Greek (LXX): kai en pneumati dia cheilion anelei asebe – “And with breath through lips he will destroy an ungodly [person].

[3] These language points are indebted to Robert Alter’s translation, ad loc.

Wednesday, 8 July 2020

Hosea and the One People of One Gd, Making It Real


Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, 9 July 2020 (Feria)

·        Hosea 10.1-3, 7-8, 12

Today’s first reading is from the Prophet Hosea.
We have been thinking a lot about prophets and prophecy recently,
and rightly so.
This is a time that calls for Christian prophecy.
All times are times that call for prophecy,
but this is one of the times when that is right before our eyes.

It might be worth just noting this.
If you knew nothing of the Bible and its own ways of seeing things,
the opening of the reading from Hosea must sound very strange.
Hear it again:

Israel is a luxuriant vine, that yields its fruit.
The more his fruit increased, the more altars he built;
As his country improved, he improved his pillars.
Their heart is false; now they must bear their guilt.
[GD] will break down their altars, and destroy their pillars.

Strange, no?
Things are going well for Israel,
and Israel is building more altars, with impressive pillars.
Israel is offering a full religious response,
in recognition for how good things are.
 Yet Gd condemns Israel for this,
and will destroy their religious paraphernalia.
If we didn’t know the back-story, we’d find that, well,
cruel of Gd.

The back-story is of course that these altars and pillars
are not for the glory of the One, Unique Gd.
They are for false gods,
or, perhaps, for false understandings of Gd.
Worship at these altars is lifeless, and indeed deadening.
It is actually 
rebellion against Gd-as-Gd-has-revealed-Gdself-to-Israel.
Which is what we call “idolatry”.

There is, though, a back-story to the back-story.
That is that Gd who reveals Gdself to Israel
makes it clear that this Gd wants only one place to be the place of altars.
There is to be a place which Gd chooses,
a place where 
Gd’s Name and Gd’s Glory dwells.
One place which Is Gd’s Dwelling.

From a philosophical or historical or indeed generic religious point of view,
it did not have to be this way.
It is quite possible to believe in One Gd,
and also believe that you might have several thousand altars,
set up wherever is convenient for worshippers.
Many do.
Belief in “monotheism” doesn’t require
belief in one single Dwelling Place for Gd.
Anything but.

But the Bible is not (or only rarely) directly concerned with religious philosophy (though it contains much wisdom of course).
Bluntly, the Bible is not concerned with
what religious philosophers call “monotheism”
(as opposed to “polytheism”, “atheism” or any other “ism”).
Rather, the Bible is 
a call for personal, existential loyalty to Gd
who reveals Gdself as One.

And...
in having One Place where the One People gather to worship the One Gd
at peak periods,
this Oneness is reinforced.
It is reinforced in the gathering.
Come together. 
Come together as one, to demonstrate
– and yes, I will use the word: to “embody” -
the Oneness of Gd.
The Oneness of Gd isn’t something the people invent. No.
But it certainly does involve a task, for its full realisation.
Come together as one.

This is how I read the Prophet Hosea, although other readings are possible.

You may say: why rub it in?
We as a parish are not yet in a place where we can gather for worship.
We are moving carefully and deliberately.
But why remind us, yet again,
of the pain of our inability to come together as one?

Now is not the time for a discussion about the practical matters.
But it may be necessary even here to make it clear
that even when we can gather (soon, please Gd),
we won’t be gathering 
as we gathered when we gathered.
When we have gathered, we have sat together.
We have rubbed up against each other, at the altar rail if nowhere else.
We have shared the peace, by touch.
Sisters and brothers, these oh-so-natural parts of our worship
will remain impossible, improper, 
because of the risk of serious harm,
to others, if not ourselves.

But, of course, you know, let’s be realistic.

The idea of
the One People gathering together 
in the One Place to worship the One Gd 
was always an ideal.
It never quite happened.
More than a historical fact,
it was an image of how things spiritually are,
of how Gd longs to gather us together as one.
The Hebrew tradition does not use images as most Christians do.
 But we can say that this idea of all gathering together as one
is an “icon” of and within the Hebrew Bible,
revealing how Gd calls us together.

And that spiritual truth, that Gd gathers us,
that Gd is a gatherer (always and everywhere),
is true for us, right now, in our physical isolation,
is one we can hold on to, is one we can make our own, right now.
Truly we are, here and now (whenever and wherever you are hearing this)
One People in one place of spiritual truth,
worshipping the One Gd.

How to live that out?
Amen.   

Friday, 12 June 2020

Sermon. Barnabas: Encourager and More

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford, 12 June 2020

Feast of St Barnabas (transferred). 


St Barnabas. 
The first thing we might say of St Barnabas is his name. 
His name was of course... Joseph. 
Yes, Barnabas is one of the many biblical characters whose name changes, 
and, unlike his friend and mentor, Saul-who-just-becomes-Paul, 
there is a story attached. 
Barnabas sells some land, and gives the money to the whole Church community. 
(The story is at the beginning of Acts.) 
For this he is called Barnabas, 
which is translated in the text itself (as we’ve been reminded) as 
“Son of Encouragement”.  

“Son of Encouragement” 
is a perfectly good translation of the Greek huios parakleseos. 
The idea is surely that he encouraged others both by supplying resources 
to meet real needs, 
and also by his example. 
He inspired.  
But encouragement is not the only possible translation. 
The word for encouragement (paraklesis) is closely related to the other name we give the Holy Spirit, Parakletos, the Paraclete, 
which is translated Comforter, or Advocate. 
How so? 
The core meaning for both words is one who comes alongside you, 
who is called alongside you, 
whether to comfort you, by holding you up, or to speak out for you.   

You will have spotted how different the name sounds from the Greek, though. 
This name is clearly Aramaic or Hebrew in origin. 
Actually, you can tell it is Aramaic, 
for the simple reason that Bar is an Aramaic word. 
It means “son” or indeed “son of”. S
o it is likely that the underlying is bar nehma. 
Bar nehma does indeed fit, and might be translated as “son of encouragement”. Again, though, that may not be the most natural translation. 
That word nehma relates to the Hebrew word for comfort. 
When in the prophecy of Isaiah [40.1] we hear those wonderful words: 
“Comfort, comfort ye, my people”. That’s Nahmu, nahmu. Comfort.

There’s another possibility. 
The underlying Aramaic may be Naviah. 
At the surface level of sound, that is a better fit. Bar Naviah. 
That would have a significantly different meaning. 
It would mean: "Son of Prophecy". 
And, let us remember, prophecy in the biblical sense tends not to mean telling the future as a clairvoyant, does not mean someone gazing into the middle distance and mumbling about good fortune, or tall dark handsome strangers. 
A prophet is someone who places both feet on the ground, and forthtells. 
A prophet has both feet on the ground and looks with Gd’s eyes at the present - and especially how the powerful treat those without power - and proclaims, declaims: 
“If you carry on, Gd will see to it that such-and-such happens”. 
A prophet threatens, warns, cajoles, nudges, and, yes, in that sense encourages. They draw out courage.   

So Barnabas is encourager, is inspirer, is advocate, is comforter, is prophet. 
Barnabas is one who comes alongside, 
whether to speak out fearlessly and loudly even against the wrong, 
or sit silently with the person in need, comforting with a hand on a shoulder, and a refusal to judge. 
All of that.  

What do we draw from this? 
It is as obvious as it is heart-felt. It is as heart-felt as it is obvious. 
We are called to be Barnabas in all these ways (and perhaps more).  
We, as personal disciples, as the Christians gathered in our patch of Little Ilford, and as the Church dispersed throughout the world, 
are called to be ones who comes alongside, 
both to speak out fearlessly against the wrong, 
and sit silently with the person in need, 
comforting with a hand on a shoulder, and a refusal to judge.  

In our days, this combination is a particularly difficult, 
an excruciatingly difficult task, 
for the reasons we know and have named. 
And we will get things wrong. 
But we don’t do it in our own strength. 
We do it, because we are called to be it. 
Called to it by Gd Gdself. 
And the One who calls us is faithful, 
and is the fulness of 
encouragement, 
inspiration, 
advocacy, 
comfort 
and speaking out. 
So there is, in truth, nothing to stop us committing right now, 
to be, in this way or that (as Gd sees fit), another Barnabas. 

A blessed Feast Day.  
Amen.