Preaching Pentecost by John's Gospel Alone

 

Sermon. 28/05/2023 Pentecost

Gospel: John 20:19-23

 

We are here to mark on the Day of Pentecost, and to reflect on the gospel of the day. This immediately raises – if not a problem, then – an issue. For the gospel makes no mention of Pentecost at all. Indeed the word Pentecost is found nowhere, in any of the gospels.

 

We need to go back a stage. “Pentecost” comes from the Greek, meaning 50^th, and in particular the 50^th day after Passover, which brings us to the second of the three Harvest Festivals of Judaism. But this harvest festival takes on a new meaning in the story - not from the gospels but - from the Book of Acts. You know it, I think. There is a violent wind. There are tongues as of fire. Each tongue rests on one of the apostles. They speak new words, in new tongues. What could be more dramatic?

 

Today’s gospel is in some tension with this. It does describe an encounter with the risen Lord, on that first Easter Day. So, yes, it has a drama of its own. But! But what actually happens is: Jesus breathes. He breathes out. He breathes upon the apostles and says, in all simplicity: “Receive Holy Spirit”. And this Spirit is associated with the peace Jesus has already brought, and with a new pattern of forgiveness. Jesus breathes, breathes forgiveness,  and the capacity to forgive.

 

Do we have to choose between the two accounts of the coming of Holy Spirit? Surely we need both. We may long for – either boldly and publicly or secretly – long for the drama of the Day of Pentecost. And if we can’t have tongues of fire, then can we not have fire in our belly? If we can’t have tongues of fire, can we not have it so that our hearts burn within us. Such things are certainly part of the story of the Church. Such fiery and spirited passion is to be welcomed, always after testing.

 

But! But let us not forget the other story. The story that the Spirit comes from simple intimacy with Jesus. An intimacy with Jesus that is possible because his followers had gathered in one place. They wanted to be with each other. At least as much as any drama, we are to long for the closeness to Jesus that comes from feeling his breath on us. Feel his breath on us, so that we can receive some new gift from him. Feel his breath, so that we can bring forgiveness into the world.

 

I hope this speaks to you. But I am also aware – say it bluntly – that it may not speak to the people we long to reach out to, who have no connection with the story. They may say: “I can do forgiveness. Someone says sorry. I say that’s okay. We both move on. Why does it have to be more complicated with Gd?”

 

We need to be clear that forgiveness here isn’t a word of pardon. It isn’t any sort of transaction. Remember Jesus is with his friends, but his friends are the ones who have let him down. They fled. They let him die. And… not one of them has said sorry. It is even an open question if they feel guilt or shame. Yet Jesus is there, already there, fully there, reliably there, speaking peace. Because this forgiveness is not a pardon. It is Gd’s own determination to form a new community, one were recrimination – even justified recrimination – just has no place.

 

This is the divine forgiveness from the breath of Holy Spirit. This is for us, and it for us to help move and grow in the world. There’s something dramatic here – as dramatic as any wind, or any fire.

 

Amen.

 

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.

The Baptism of Christ - the Glory of the Trinity

 

Sermon. St Mary’s, Little Ilford, 10 January 2021 (live-stream only)

Final service in role as Associate Priest

 

The Baptism of Christ.

Mark 1.4-11

 

I have quite a lot to say. This won’t be the shortest sermon in Christendom! But you knew that.

 

I have also made a conscious choice. I have decided not to rewrite my sermon in the light of the increased dangers, risks and restrictions we are now under and which we are facing. There is always a good case for making the sermon about the Big News of the day. And there is always a good case for not making the sermon about the Big News of the day.

 

That sounds wrong. But the argument is this: there are too many wrongs and fears in the world. We have to face them. But the sermon can be a chance for something different. It can be a chance to let the story of salvation unfold in its own way, according to its own timing.

 

Which to do is always a judgement call. If I have called this wrong, forgive me.

 

*

 

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

 

John the Baptist existed. You have to be an exceptionally cynical historian (and they do exist of course) to deny that John the Baptist existed. He is referred to also outside of the New Testament and as a person of influence (and so with a legacy). His name does indeed mean “John the Immerser” (or John the Dipper if that doesn’t sound too flippant). Later in the Gospel, when Mark is discussing the Pharisees’ patterns of living, he says they “baptise” (or “have baptised”)[1] everything they buy from the market. The point is: everything has to be thoroughly plunged into cleansing water.

 

I go further. Jesus existed. (Every few years someone comes up with a new claim about how Jesus didn’t exist, based on the fact that the earliest references to him were a couple of decades after his death, the gospels later still. It’s a culpable refusal to do the work of imagining yourself in an aural society, where only a fraction of things are ever written down, but the sense of shared, agreed knowledge is vast.) Jesus existed. And Jesus was baptised. Jesus was baptised and was crucified. These things all but the most cynical of historians (who do exist) believe.

 

One thing that confirms that John baptised and Jesus was baptised is that there has been a growing body of evidence that ritual immersion had already become really rather popular in the century or so before Jesus. It’s not a theme in the Old Testament, but Judaism always has been and is a living religion. Archaeologists have uncovered a much greater number of mikvaot in the Holy Land than they had at one time expected. Mikvaot is the plural of the Hebrew mikveh. And a mikveh is a specially designed pool, always with access to naturally moving water, suitable for ritual immersion, as the Rabbis came to codify things in the course of time. So ritual immersion was certainly around, and could easily be part of a religious revivalist’s repertoire.

 

This also complicates things for us, of course. If Jewish ritual immersion was as common in Jesus’ day as it became, then the precise meaning of John’s baptism is harder to pin down. You see: Jewish ritual immersion is not a once-and-for-all action. You can repeat it. It is repeated, sometimes monthly, sometimes weekly, and sometimes even daily. So for all the “fact of John” is not in doubt, he remains a challenging figure, challenging not only in his diet and dress sense, challenging not only in the way he spoke to rulers, but also challenging in precisely what he intended, when he baptised.

 

And equally we cannot know with any certainty what Jesus intended in being baptised, in letting John baptise him. If John’s baptism is for the forgiveness of sins, did Jesus himself feel convicted as a sinner? That takes us into very thorny territory, to put it mildly. And the New Testament writers also found it difficult. Remember that Matthew - not Mark, Matthew - has John the Baptist declaring himself unfit to baptise Jesus, and Jesus saying: “let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness.” [Matt 3.15]

 

So be it. I make no pretence of being able to settle these or any other historical conundrums. I’m going to use a metaphor you’ll gather I’ve come to love in recent weeks. I am going to suggest we leave aside the microscope and pick up the telescope. (My last chance to use it with you. So indulge me!) We stop trying to work out what was the intention of John, or even what was the intention of Jesus, and go for the Big Picture. What is going on, in the baptism of Christ?

 

*

 

The Early Church looked at this story though its telescope and gave a clear answer. What is going on in the baptism of Christ is nothing less than the revelation of the Holy Trinity in history. At least as much as the infant Jesus meeting the Magi, here is epiphany, here is manifestation, and here is theophany, here is the manifestation of Gd, here is the manifestation of Gd, who is Father, Son and Spirit. Even Mark, who, truth to tell, likes to be blunt and brusque, cannot tell the story of the baptism of Jesus without [a] the Heavenly Voice who names [b] Jesus as his Son, nor without [c] the Spirit’s descent from heaven upon the Son.

 

The Orthodox are the clearest about this. When I say this is Epiphany/Theophany, for them it really is. In Orthodoxy, the Shepherds come on Christmas Eve, the Magi on Christmas Day, and 6 January is the Theophany of the Holy Trinity at Jesus’ Baptism.

 

This is the manifestation of the Trinity in time and in space. It happened there; it happened then. But as it is the manifestation of the Eternal Trinity, it is also a  manifestation beyond space and time. And so, it can happen here, too. And so, it can happen now, too. So a large part of the service of the Theophany is the Great Blessing of the Waters, blessed waters that people then take home, for the whole year.

 

This is a reminder of just how earthy Christianity is. The manifestation of Gd Holy Trinity does not happen in a lecture room. It doesn’t even happen in the Temple (church, synagogue). It happens in a river. The distractions are minimal. There is a person baptising, there is a person being baptised, and there is water. It takes something elemental, one of the elements of creation, humble, “nothing-y” see-through water, to reveal the truest nature of Gd.

 

And this is in turn a reminder of how paradoxical Christianity is. At one level, the story speaks of one seeking forgiveness of sins by an act of washing. But to the eyes of faith, what happens is that the sinless one enters into the waters, is submerged beneath the waters, such that the waters themselves become the heroic bearer of truth, become the means by which Gd is revealed, is seen.

 

I will say more about the role of water here. Water is cleansing. That is too obvious to be dwelt upon. Water is life-sustaining. Spend more than an hour in the desert country which is the setting for he Bible, and you are aware of that. Your very throat is aware of that. And there is this: water is.. attractive. It draws us to it. When I prepare families for infant baptism, I always ask if the infant in question enjoyed bath-time. So far the answer has been invariable: Yes. We all like a splash in water (if it’s at our preferred temperature). And why do gardens need water features ,and stately homes whole lakes? Why to we Brits love “to be beside the seaside, beside the sea”, in all weathers? Because we find water attractive. Precisely in its elementality, nothing-y see-through water is beautiful.

 

Beautiful. How else can I end my time of ministry with you?

 

In my time with you, I have sought not to make unrealistic demands that our lives be marked by relentless joy. For life can be hard. Joy is a fruit of the Spirit, but such joy is something so much bigger than happiness that talk of it can mislead.

 

I have sought not to use excessive language of Christian hope, for hope deferred can make the heart sick.

 

I have even moderated my claims about Christian love. For while it is unquestionably the heart of things (I don’t doubt that), talking too readily and too much about it can end up as unintended manipulation, forcing things which cannot be forced.

 

But I find (I didn’t plan it…) I find I have been perfectly content to make the highest claims about glory, beauty, attractiveness and wonder. About the glory, beauty and attractiveness of Gd…

and about the glory, the beauty the attractiveness of Gd as reflected in you.

Truly you are a beautiful people.

·        In your forbearance of me (you know I’ve been through some narrow times);

·        in your care for one another;

·        in your matter-of-factness in facing the changes and challenges of precisely these days;

·        in your holding to the vision of a church-within-a-community-centre even when the structures have spoken against that;

·        in your yearning both for greater liturgical riches and in your yearning for a prophetic edge to what we as a community do;

·        in your loyalty;

·        in your fun (your instinct for fun);

·        and just as you are.

 

On more than one occasion, I have cited a certain poem by a certain Irishman Paul Durcan, in which a priest at mass, at the Peace, tells the people to turn to one another and say: “You are beautiful.” As ever, I make no apology for repetition. The point is: you went with it. (Many would not have, but you went with it.) Just as we have the practice of signing “Alleluia!”, we have, we might say, an occasional custom of greeting each other with “You are beautiful.”

 

I have left the whole poem on the parish page [and below].

Here and  now, I stick to its prosaic core:

You are beautiful.

I am grateful.

Please pray for me.

I will for you.

 

Amen.

 

The 12 O’Clock Mass, Roundstone, County Galway, 28 July 2002

by Paul Durcan

 

On Sunday 28th of July 2002 –

The summer it rained almost every day –

In rain we strolled down the road

To the church on the hill overlooking the sea.

I had been told to expect “a fast Mass”.

Twenty minutes. A piece of information

Which disconcerted me.

 

Out onto the altar hurried

A short, plump priest in late middle age

With a horn of silver hair,

In green chasuble billowing

Like a poncho or a caftan over

White surplice and a pair

Of Reeboks – mammoth trainers.

 

He whizzed along,

Saying the readings himself as well as the Gospel;

Yet he spoke with conviction and with clarity;

His every action an action

Of what looked like effortless concentration;

Like Tiger Woods on top of his form.

His brief homily concluded with a solemn request.

 

To the congregation he gravely announced:

“I want each of you to pray for a special intention,

A very special intention.

I want each of you – in the sanctity of your souls –

To pray that, in the All-Ireland

Championship hurling quarter-final this afternoon in Croke Park,

Clare will beat Galway.”

 

The congregation splashed into laughter

And the church became a place of effortless prayer.

He whizzed through the Consecration

As if the Consecration was something

That occurs at every moment of the day and night;

As if betrayal and the overcoming of betrayal

Were an every-minute occurrence.

 

As if the Consecration were the “now”

In the “now” of the Hail Mary prayer:

“Pray for us now and at the hour of our death.”

At the Sign of the Peace he again went sombre

As he instructed the congregation:

“I want each of you to turn around and say to each other:

‘You are beautiful.’”

 

The congregation was flabbergasted, but everyone fluttered

And swung around and uttered that extraordinary phrase:

“You are beautiful.”

I shook hands with at least five strangers,

Two men and three women, to each of them saying:

“You are beautiful.” And they to me:

“You are beautiful.”

 

At the end of Mass, exactly twenty-one minutes,

The priest advised: “Go now and enjoy yourselves

For that is what God made you to do –

To go out there and enjoy yourselves

And to pray that, in the All-Ireland

Championship hurling quarter-final between Clare and Galway

In Croke Park, Clare will win.”

 

After Mass, the rain had drained away

Into a tide of sunlight on which we sailed out

To St Macdara’s Island and dipped our sails –

Both of us smiling, radiant sinners.

In a game of pure delight, Clare beat Galway by one point:

Clare 1 goal and 17 points, Galway 19 points.

“Pray for us now and at the hour of our death."

---

[1] Mark 7.4 – aorist subjunctive middle, but note textual variants.

Sermon: We Have All The Oil of Anointing We Might Need!

 

Sermon. St Mary’s and St Michael’s Little Ilford (Live-Streamed Worship only)

8 November 2020

3^rd Before Advent / Remembrance Sunday

 

Gospel: Matthew 25:1-13

 

What is going on in today’s gospel? In the first place, Jesus tells the story of a wedding. In Palestine in the first century, you didn’t get married by going to synagogue, or even to a lovely country house. A man may get married simply by going to fetch his bride, and bring her to his home. But, of course, since a wedding is the by far the very best excuse for a party, a meal was made out of each stage. So it’s very credible that a groom might say: “Right, I’m going to fetch her”, and then depart, and those left at home would have no idea when he’d be back. Because the couple are making a big procession, and calling in on people all the time. So, then, indeed, it might well be dark by the time the couple arrive, and then some form of light will be called for. Why not let the unmarried girls and women in the family have this task, again, to make a meal out of it? It’s probable, by the way, that the light in this story [sing. lampas] means torches, in the sense of tight bundles of sticks soaked in oil, rather than lamps or lanterns. It’s the same word that is used in John for the torches the Roman police bring to the garden of Gethsemane [John 18.3].

 

What is going on in today’s gospel? Jesus teaches as he so often does, by telling a story. A simple story to those who know the culture, but not necessarily with one simple meaning.

 

What is going on in today’s gospel? Jesus tells what this story is there for, he gives us the “therefore”. “Keep awake therefore, for you know neither the day nor the hour”. But what does this mean? It is unlikely that it is against sleep, literal sleep, loss of consciousness at night. There are, it is true, some spiritual traditions that are suspicious of sleep, and certainly suspicious of lie-ins, but that’s scarcely the focus here. Notice that in the story the bridesmaids are not criticised for getting drowsy and taking a nap: the foolish do it; the wise do it too.

 

Is it, then, about being expectant? Are we being called upon to expect the return of Jesus-our-Bridegroom at any minute? Any minute now. Any minute now. Are we meant to encourage each other with these words: “Jesus is coming – any minute now?” I doubt it. Of course, we have the advantage of being able to look back on 2000 years of Church life. There it’s pretty clear that communities which make a meal of the idea that we are in the last days, and “Jesus is coming – any minute now”, do not flourish, over time. It’s hard to stay intensely expectant in that sense, over a long period of time. It’s hard to live that way.

 

We know this ourselves. We might indeed have tried to encourage ourselves a lot between Wednesday and Saturday, by keeping the television on a news channel, and saying: “Any minute now, we’ll know who is the next President of the USA. Any minute now.” But if we had done this, we would have grown weary, and even jaded. Even more pertinently, we might indeed seek to encourage each other with “Any minute now, lockdown will be over – any minute now.” Or “Any minute now, they’ll find a vaccine – any minute now”, but if we do so, we find that what starts as encouragement becomes discouragement, and we become weary, and even jaded. It can be harmful.

 

And again, I say: the wise bridesmaids in the story are for their part not criticised for getting drowsy and taking a nap. So the message is not: “sleep is bad”, but nor is the message: “adrenaline is good, keep in a heightened state of awareness, always”.  

*

If we stick with the wedding story itself, another message emerges. 

It’s not about literally keeping awake. It’s not about keeping expectant, straining your neck to see a couple who simply must be around the corner. It is about being prepared. Yes (let me say it) we are all to be (as it were) boy scouts, and “be prepared”.

 

The foolish bridesmaids were not those who had a nap (to say it one last time), but were those who were not prepared, on waking. Who, on waking, were not prepared. This message also makes more sense. If we look back on those 2000 years, we surely do see that churches which sustain a lively sense that they must be prepared, prepared for the next thing Gd is going to do, because Gd really is active among us – these churches do tend to thrive (in one way or another). And we might hope to be such a church.  

 

How were the bridesmaids to “be prepared”? It’s not a difficult question. They are to have plenty… of oil. To keep a torch lit for a protracted length of time, you need a lot of oil. You need oil to spare. And of course, this isn’t Castrol GTX oil, this is olive oil, or similar.

 

[Shows oil]

 

And once we let the oil in the story move into view, we see something more. With biblical sensitivity, we see that this oil is the oil that enables light, yes, but is also the oil that enables anointing. Prophets and priests (sometimes) and kings (especially) were anointed with oil. And remember that the word “Christ” is not a name: it’s a description, a title; it means “anointed”, The Anointed One.

 

So we too are to be prepared, prepared by having plenty of the oil-of-anointing, by having our oil-of-anointing, and oil-of-anointing to spare.

 

Can we get a feel for this? That Jesus is saying by means of this story that there is plenty of the oil-of-anointing, there is oil-of-anointing for us and for all. Get as much as you need and want; it is there to be got. We are, after all, to be expectant, but not expectant in the sense that we keep going on about how Jesus is bound to return next week, or at any time soon, but expectant in the sense that we are to look within our lives for where Gd already is anointing, with the touch of his Spirit. The oil of the Spirit is with us. We have our supplies, and more than our supplies, if we only trust it.

 

So much is uncertain. Now, it is true, and importantly true, that we do not live with that bundle of agonising uncertainties that come under the heading of “war”, still less “World War”. We are conscious of this especially today, and we will remember the victims of wars, near and far, in just a little while, giving thanks for our peace. But much is uncertain here and now, for us, too. It is natural that for us, too, the adrenaline will flow, and we may fall into anxiety at least in that sense.

 

But here is one thing we need not be anxious about. We can let this anxiety fall away.  The oil of the Spirit is with us. We have our supplies, and more, if we only trust it.

 

We in our church here and now have, I think, a lively sense of this; we know we are on the cusp of change, and we pray that it will be anointed change, the change of the Spirit, and in so praying we do trust that our prayer will be answered, affirmatively. May we also know it throughout our lives, our own lives as workers (whether paid or not), as family members (as spouses as parents as children as siblings…), as people who play, and may we know this in the secret place of our own heart, in our own praying.

 

Keep awake, keep alive to the truth that we already have all the anointing of the Spirit we might need. Find it. Cherish it. Hold it. Let your light shine. Amen.

Sermon: The Corinthians as the Curate's Egg of Congregations

Sermon. St Vedast-alias-Foster, City of London

Epiphany 2 (Year A)

Isaiah 49:1-7; 1 Corinthians 1:1-9; John 1:29-42

How are you? Here's a piece of advice you can pass on to your new priest for free: it is almost always good to ask people how they are, and if you can ask it, and really care (you know: listen for the answer), you are a large part of the way there to being a pastor.

That also applies to you directly of course, as you continue to minister to one another, and to those who stumble into this church for whatever reason, and indeed as you will minister to your minister. For the idea that the priest dispenses spiritual goods to their flock, who simply receive, is, as well we know, nonsense. You will be pastors to him, and that is as it is meant to be (we are meant to need each other). So never fear to ask him and one another: How are you?

Here is a related question: How would you be, if you were a Corinthian? Let me focus in: How would you be, if you were a member of the emergent church at Corinth in the first century, and the person in front of you was – not me, and not Paul for that matter, but – the person charged with proclaiming to you what Paul had written to all of you, about all of you? How, then, would you feel?

I think you would feel... 'good' (as we now say). Or 'in a good place'. I think you would feel encouraged. You would hear Paul giving thanks to Gd for you, and the grace in you. Here – I'll remind you - Paul is improving - or subverting - the secular Greek letter-writing convention. The convention was to greet the readers with chairein (greetings), and go on to praise them. Paul praises Gd, and offers and speaks of charis (grace), a similar, related word, but with more theological heft. So, as hearers of this letter from Paul – and a letter from Paul is probably a new thing in your church life – a Fresh Expression, we might say – you feel 'in a good place' and encouraged.

Except it is not that simple. We have to dig a little deeper. Yes, Paul is gracious and at heart affirming. There is something of an inclusio in the passage we have; Paul ends as he begins. So Paul begins by saying that you Corinthias are sanctified and called to be saints. You have been made saintly, and will be saintly. Except that the words 'to be' in 'called to be saints' are absent in the Greek... which makes it even better. It means we can say that you Corinthias are called, here and now, already, as saints, as holy ones. And that's all of you, as a collectivity (Paul nowhere calls an individual 'a saint' by the way). And Paul concludes by saying that Christ will strengthen you (this time it is the future tense) to the end, so that you will be blameless, because you have already been called into fellowship with him.

Good news all round! Your salvation is secure. You belong to Christ and Christ's Church. You are valued and of value.

But... but we still need to look at precisely what Paul gives thanks for, in you. It is three things:

• your speech or your words (logos);
• your knowledge (gnosis);
• your spiritual gifts, or your giftedness (charismata).

Now, all of these things seem to be very good things indeed. We want them. A church community is the richer for them.

But... (and I am now coming to the problem)... precisely these things –

• ideas about our own speech,
• our own knowledge
• and our own possession of spiritual gifts –

these are what Paul has hard and harsh words to say about, throughout his letter. He never or rather seldom says they are bad things. He does say that they can be – and for the Corinthians, they are – the right things in the wrong place.

Right-and-wrong attitudes to knowledge Paul discusses in chapter eight, for example. This begins: 'Now concerning food sacrificed to idols: we know that "all of us possess knowledge." Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.' Paul goes on to tread a very fine line over what was evidently a painful and controversial matter in the Corinthian community (strange though it may seem to us), about whether and when Christians may eat meat which may have been involved in some pagan ceremony.

And he rules out 'knowledge' as an arbiter, or at least knowledge claiming to know more than love knows. He even goes on to say that knowledge can destroy your fellow Christians.

And for Paul's questioning or undermining of all three (speech, knoweldge and gifts) we can turn to an old friend – I mean 1 Corinthians 13. That hymn to love begins in a very particular way. We may miss it, as we lose ourselves in the poetry and think, quite wrongly, of romantic love. But this is how St Paul actually begins chapter thirteen: 'If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers [gifts], and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing [outhen eimi - 1Co 13:1-2 NRSV]'

There it is, Paul at his bluntest: right speech, right giftedness and right knowledge without love are nothing.

These are but the two most obvious examples. Paul has a lot to criticise – to express alarm about – in the Corinthians' behaviour. It actually begins in the very next verses after today's apparently affirming passage. Paul goes straight on to say: 'Now I appeal to you... that there be no divisions among you... For it has been reported to me... that there are quarrels among you.' [1Co 1:10-11 NRS] Thus Paul, for all his wordiness at times, can be summed up as simply this: 'Corinthians, for all your speech, knowledge and giftedness, you are a divided and quarrelsome bunch, and you need to begin to learn to love.'

Now, brothers and sisters, I want to be crystal clear that I am not saying that about you. I am not. (I am taking a risk in preaching as I do, lest I be heard as speaking of you. I simply am not. And I certainly did not know your PCC meeting followed and I make no reference at all to the matters connected thereto. No.) I am also not saying that you will need to decipher your new preacher in the way that I have tried to decipher Paul. Again, no. Let him speak with clarity and candour, always.

But I am saying that the absence from today's epistle is powerful, is moving, and can speak to us all. What is absent is love. Paul sees no love (or no love loving enough to be worthy of comment) in the Corinthians. Can we not see this as bitter medicine? I mean: who would like the eulogy at their funeral to be solely about how articulate, clever and gifted they were? So, do we not imagine that the Corinthians also – not of course the first time they heard this epistle, but the second or subsequent times – would themselves feel the absence of the reference to love, and be pained?

It is said that the last words of St John the Evangelist were 'little children, love one another'. And today I take a leaf out of his book.

And another from the book of Rabbi Lionel Blue of Blessed and Righteous Memory. (You knew there'd be a Jewish reference; I did not want to disappoint you.) He said that his mother at one point, prior to his being ordained a rabbi, said something like: 'Lionel, all this religion – will it make you a kinder person?' He took this as a serious, indeed a religious question.

And our own Rowan Williams has said this, in that august theological periodical, the Evening Standard: 'At the very basic level, religion is uncompromisingly committed to not ignoring people. My faith is one which tells me everybody is worth whatever time, attention and love you can possibly give.' (1)

This can come in many forms. It is not niceness or politeness; it emphatically is not about refusing to rock the boat. It can come from a fierce prophet like Isaiah, or an even fiercer more-than-a-prophet, like John the Baptist - kindness in the form of passionate truth-telling; tough love. Call it love, call it kindness, call it serious and committed and costly attention to the other as the other is – it is what we are about, always and everywhere, regardless of circumstance. It's who we are. It is how we are.

Amen. 

(1) http://rowanwilliams.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/2530/evening-standard-interview-with-archbishop-rowan-williams