Homily for the 19th Sunday of Year B (Jn 6:41–51) ‘Bread for the life of the world’ 12.viii.12
Trinity IX Evensong: Hebrews 11:17–31
Trinity VIII Evensong – Hebrews 8
Homily for 18th Sunday of Yr B (Jn 6:24–35)
29.vii.12 Homily for the 17th Sunday of Yr B (Jn 6:1-15)
16th Sunday of Year B – 22.vii.12 – Jer 23:1–6, Eph 2:13–18, Mk 6:30–34 ‘He took pity on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd’
Trinity VI Evensong 15.vii.12 Rom 15:1–29 May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abide in hope
Trinity VI 15.vii.12 Mt 5:20-26 Except your righteousness shall exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees, ye shall in no case enter into the kingdom of heaven
|
It may not surprise you to learn that the Church is absolutely not a place in which to do politics. Politics is the art of the possible, where compromise lets you get something close to what you would originally have liked, with as many people on board as possible. Whereas what we see in this morning’s Gospel is something different, Our Lord would seem to be asking the impossible; he presents us with a totally uncompromising picture of what it means to live a Christian life, or in Matthew’s terms, to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There is no compromise here, and what is required looks completely beyond us – that is, I would suggest, the entire point – it isn’t about what we as human beings can do on our own, but what God can do through us.
|
Trinity V Evensong 8.vii.12 Sermon : 1Kings 18:17–39; Jn 15:1–16
14th Sunday of Year B – Mark 6:1-6
Sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter Evensong, And their words seemed to them as idle tales, and they believed them not. Lk 24:11
Homily on the Day of Our Lord’s Resurrection – Jn 20:1–10 ‘and he saw and believed’
Homily for the Easter Vigil: Mk 16:1–7 ‘There is no need for alarm’
May I wish you all a Happy and Joyous Easter!
Homily for Good Friday
Homily for Maundy Thursday: The Mass of the Lord’s Supper – Jn 13:1–15 ‘He had always loved those who were his in the world, but now he showed how perfect his love was’
|
I
|
Tuesday in Holy Week: Jn 13:21–33, 36–38
WE are used, as human beings, to the concept of glory – of seeing in the great achievements of great people, Roger Bannister running the sub-four minute mile, Neil Armstrong walking on the moon, Sir Steve Redgrave winning five gold medals in consecutive Olympic games. It is something wonderful, something which points beyond the realms of normal human existence, and ultimately to the transcendent, to God, the source and origin of all glory.
And yet, in this evening’s gospel, after a description of the Last Supper, we see Judas Iscariot going out to betray Jesus, to hand him over to the Jews, while Jesus tells him ‘what you are going to do, do quickly’. Night falls. It is a time of darkness, not of light, evil will triumph over good and all will be lost. The disciples, Jesus closest and most intimate friends will scatter leaving him alone. Even Peter, the acknowledged leader of the disciples, will deny his Lord three times despite his protestations to the contrary. This picture of sadness, fear, and betrayal does not appear at first sight to be very promising material for the glorification of Jesus Christ the son of God, the eternal Word of the father. The actions of the Last Supper are finished: the washing of his disciples’ feet, the institution of the Eucharist, the sharing of his body and blood which looks to the cross and beyond to the new life of the kingdom of God.
And so Jesus begins a series of farewell discourses, reflections upon what he has done and is about to do, which express the heart of the Christian faith in action, which show us most fully who and what Jesus is and what he does. In this, the apostle Peter, a man who thinks before he speaks, states his commitment to our Lord. In the events that are to come, his resolve will turn through fear to denial. This is a profoundly human response: our initial zeal can, through fear and the pressures of this world, fizzle away. We are, all of us, at one level, no different to Peter. For all our good intentions can end up sacrificed upon the altar of expediency. And like Peter the inadequacy of our good intentions must be exposed before we can follow. Peter trusted in God, he asked for forgiveness and unlike Judas he trusts in God for healing and forgiveness.
Traditionally God’s glory is glimpsed in the light of the divine presence that presents which gives the law to Moses and makes his face shine. It is the glory of the Transfiguration. And yet, having washed his disciples’ feet and fed them at the table and being about to be betrayed abandoned and denied by his closest followers, Jesus is entering his hour of glory. He will in the words of the prophet Isaiah restore the tribes of Jacob and bring back the survivors of Israel; he will make us, his people, the light of the nations so that his salvation may reach to the ends of the earth. Thus, the saving work of our Lord’s passion, death, and resurrection shows us in the deepest and most intimate way what God’s glory is really like. We cannot, if the truth be told, understand it, it is mysterious. We need rather to enter into it, to be in a relationship with God through his reconciliation and Love: to be healed by him, restored by him. It is a strength shown in weakness, action shown through passivity. Understanding this turns the world around: when in his passion he is clothed in a purple robe, given a Crown of Thorns and reed for a sceptre, he really is the King of the Jews. Pontius Pilate ends up proclaiming to the entire world the fact of Jesus kingship, a sign fixed to his Cross to show the world what true glory and kingship are.
The events of his passion are clearly foretold in Scripture, in the prophets, Isaiah and Jeremiah. Having told the people of Israel how this is to be brought about, Scripture is fulfilled, its meaning is deepened, it is shown to be true as coming from the source of all truth, God himself. In the events of his passion, trial, death, and resurrection Jesus shows the world what God’s love, reconciliation, and healing are like. He shows us the lengths to which the Father will go to embrace the prodigal son of humanity. And there is no price which he is not willing to pay to save you me and all of the human race.
In the events of the next few days, we will see how God’s salvation can reach to the ends of the Earth. The proclamation of the Gospel is the work of the church, it is our work: yours and mine which is done so that the world may believe. The world may choose to reject this message but that does not mean that it can and will fail. Christ’s victory is total and complete. In spite of his being rejected by the Jews Christ was ready to conquer by dying. But he did not set out to be rejected: his work was not a ritual suicide; it was an outpouring of love. So we can ask, what did he set out to do in his mission to Israel? Shall we not say that he brought the divine life into the world of humanity so that it overflowed upon them and through them into union with itself? What else? He formed a fellowship with them which not death itself, not anyone’s death, be it his or theirs, should break: for he was King in the everlasting kingdom of God – grounded in a relationship of love, restoring humanity to God, and bringing about a new Creation as the second Adam, feeding us with himself, giving us the hope of heaven, and the possibility of being filled with Divine life. This then is true glory, expressed through selfless love, humility, pain and rejection. This is the true balm of Gilead, pointed to in Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet. This is how the world is healed. Let us turn to him, come to him, and ask for his healing love and mercy. Let us be transformed through his grace and lay down our lives for him.
Monday in Holy Week Jn 12:1–11
LET ME BEGIN this evening by asking you all a question: when was the last time something extraordinary and unexpected happened to you? If not yourself then someone you know, and something you saw. Take a moment to recall it, shut your eyes, picture it in your mind, feel the emotions, smell the smells, relive it. In a similar way we should find it both strange and surprising to be confronted with this picture from this evening’s gospel. Jesus, throughout his earthly ministry, has shown particular care for the poor, the needy, and the outcast, they have been fed by the disciples at their own expense and healed and welcomed by Jesus: they see the kingdom of God in their midst. They are to be loved and cared for by us as Christians.
And so, the picture of a lavish expense, of a reckless generosity, strikes us as odd. It goes against the grain, it’s almost as though there’s something wrong here. We should be alert to the fact that something important is happening in the gospel account. Mary’s anointing of Jesus is done in preparation for his burial, after his suffering and death on the cross, before he is laid in a stranger’s tomb. Straight after his triumphant entry into Jerusalem the day before, on a donkey just like his mother on the way to Bethlehem, or the Holy Family going into exile in Egypt, Our Lord’s mind and heart are set on the events of Good Friday – and this is exactly where our hearts and minds should be too. The King of the Jews will reign triumphantly from the Cross: as both priest and victim, the Lamb of God (who will be sacrificed upon the altar of the cross to bring about the true Passover of God’s people). He is prepared for his death and burial with the same substance which was burnt upon the altar of incense in the temple, symbolising the fact that Christ’s service, suffering, and death will be a fragrant offering to God the Almighty Father.
The cost of the ointment which Mary used was (in rough terms) a year’s wages for an agricultural labourer. Taking something worth ten or twelve thousand pounds in today’s money to anoint someone’s feet is an act of reckless generosity. As such, it points towards the outpouring of God’s love upon his world – it shows us the lengths to which God in Christ is willing to go to save and heal a world wounded by Sin – nothing is too costly, no expense is spared for the love of us, sinful humanity. These days of holy week are unique, and the sacrifice of Christ upon the cross is a singular event, whose effects are felt through time.
To reinforce the importance of the events leading up to our Lord’s passion and the passion itself, this week we find ourselves reading with the Church a number of portions of the book of the prophet Isaiah and in particular, those sections known as the four servant songs. In these the prophet describes the persecution, suffering and death of the servant of the Lord. The church has always seen these passages of Scripture as pointing toward Jesus, his suffering and death. His passion is prefigured in these prophetic utterances. We see in the events of this week a rollercoaster of emotion, which starts with a triumphant entry into the Messiah into Jerusalem only to end in trial, torture, and death.
In this evening’s first reading we see the silence of our Lord before the high priest and before Pilate, it is a picture of someone filled with God’s spirit, the chosen one in whom God delights. The events of the passion will show us both what God’s love and God’s justice are. What this will bring about is the healing of the nations: the opening of the eyes of the blind, the freeing of captive humanity from the prison of sin, from the darkness of our dungeon into the new light and life of Easter. That such wonderful things should be inaugurated by an act which mirrors God’s reckless and overflowing generosity is not that surprising at all.
It also teaches us that our human response to God in worship should likewise be extravagant, mirroring God’s response to us. Our worship should be costly in terms of time and effort and expense. We should try to give our best in every sense, solely for the glory of God, and to mark things out as a special, extraordinary, not of this world. As we gather around the altar to be fed by the Lord with his body and blood, we partake in the one, perfect, sufficient sacrifice of Calvary, made ever-present on the altars of God’s church. We are nourished and transformed by God’s saving love. So then, as we walk in our Lord’s footsteps, let us pray that he will nourish as in both word and sacrament, perfecting our human nature by his grace, and enabling us to live his risen life in thought and word and deed that the world may believe
Homily for Lent V Year B
Homily for Lent IV Year B
It is far too easy to see the church in a negative way. We can be characterised as strange, quaint, and out of touch. It suits people to see us as opposed to certain things. We are prescriptive, we limit people’s freedom, and failing to practice what we preach, we can be written off as hypocrites, with no right to proclaim objective truth, to offer the world a moral framework, within which to live its life; to offer the world an alternative paradigm, a new way of living and of being through which to have life, and have life in all its fullness.
This morning’s gospel reminds us of the fundamental truth that God loves us. In the incarnation Jesus comes among us as a poor helpless baby, laid to rest in the rough wood of an animals’ feeding trough. He is cared for through the love of his mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary, who in her love, service, and obedience, stands as the model for all Christians. She is the first Christian, the greatest, a pattern for us to imitate, and a foreshadowing of our great mother the church.
Upon the rough wood of the cross, Jesus will suffer and die for us. His mother, Mary, stands by and watches and weeps. As the church we too should watch and weep for the wounds of sin and division which still scar Christ’s body. We should do all that we can to live God’s life of sacrificial self giving love: living lives of light, which shine in the darkness. The salvation and eternal life which Christ offers freely to all, comes through the church, which we enter in baptism, where we are nourished in word and are sacrament, given food for the journey, strengthened and taught, to live his risen life, to share in the joys of Easter.
God cares so much about the world and its people that he takes flesh, and lives a life of love, amidst the messiness of humanity, to show us how to live lives filled with love, life in all its fullness. Not to condemn the world but to offer it a way of being. God has made us for himself , and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in him. The spiritual needs and searching which characterise people in the world around us, can be satisfied in God and in God alone, through the church.
We can rejoice, and relax our Lenten discipline for a little while to give thanks for the wonderful gift of God’s love in our lives, in the church, and for the world. But we also need to trust God, to listen to what he says through Scripture, to be fed by him, and to live lives in accordance with his will and purpose, together, as a family, as a community of love, cared for and supported by our mother, the church. And in so doing we look to our Lady as mother of our Lord and mother of the church, as a pattern for love and obedience, as a model for all mothers: loving and tender, putting the needs of others before self, self-giving, sacrificial, and open to both joy and pain.
This, as any mother can tell you, is not easy, it’s difficult, really hard, but its rewards are likewise great. So let us, as we continue our Lenten journey towards the cross, where God shows his love for us most fully and completely, giving his body to be broken and his blood be shed for us, a sacrifice which will be made present here today under the outward forms of bread and wine, to strengthen us to live the risen life of Easter, to offer the world and alternative to selfishness, to self-centredness, to the sin which continues to separate us from God, in a self-giving love of mothers, and of our mother the church. That we may join the Angels in our song of love and praise to the Trinity, Father Son and Holy Spirit, to whom bw ascribed as is right and just all might, majesty, glory, dominion, and power, now and forever
Remembrance Day 14.xi.2010
‘Greater love has no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.’ Jn 15:13
We come here this afternoon to remember, to remember and give thanks for a sacrifice. We remember and give thanks for the sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which reconciles us with God and gives us the hope of everlasting life in him. As we meet him week by week and day by day in word and sacrament, truly present in Scripture and in his Body and Blood, what we are doing is not simply recalling the events of the past, but experiencing those events and their effects in the present. The sacrifice and its effects are a reality in our lives.
Likewise when we recall the sacrifice made by people from this village, this country and all over the world, our remembrance must likewise be an active one which has an effect in our lives. We recall the generosity of those who have tried to ensure that we can live lives free from warfare and suffering, a generosity which must leave a mark on our lives. Many people, members of our own families, as no-one has not been touched by the events of the past one hundred years, gladly offered, and still continue to offer themselves for the safety and security of humanity. An act of remembrance has a deeper significance when we know that members of Her Majesty’s Armed Forces are on active service overseas, working for peace and stability, for a safer, fairer, world, where people can live in peace and plenty. We remember too all the victims of warfare, the countless millions who have lost their lives in a century characterised by conflict, and on the 70th anniversary of the bombing of Coventry we call to mind the dreadful cost paid by our near neighbours. Our reaction will, I suspect, of necessity, be a complex one – a mixture of sadness and thankfulness, gratitude and grief – while we are grateful to live in comparative peace after a period of wholesale slaughter, we cannot fail to be moved by the cost of military and civilian lives, which continues to this day.
It is important to see the sacrificial self-giving love of God in Christ’s passion as the pattern of our lives. We are called in our baptism to share in Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, and this can be lived out in any number of ways. We can remember, too, the vision of peace which characterises the understanding of the Messiah in the prophets. It is a time when the lion will lay with the lamb, and when swords will be beaten into ploughshares. So it seems as though we’re not there yet and in many ways this characterises much of the two thousand years following Christ’s birth. Humanity it seems, while it deeply wants the vision of messianic peace finds itself engaged in warfare of one sort or another.
So is there a way out of this endless cycle? In short, Yes. In the sacrifice of Jesus Christ upon the cross, who gave himself and suffered for our sins and the sins of all hu-manity: past, present and future. The slaughter of millions of people which characterised the wars of the last century is an act of brutality which nails Jesus to the cross, yet he goes to his death gladly, for love of us. It is this act of total self-giving which shows us what true love is, and how we too need to fashion our lives after this pattern of love. We must always remember that Jesus’ loving self-giving is done for the healing of sin and division – for the reconciliation of humanity with God. While we are conscious of our failings and shortcomings and need for God, we must always remember that we are a people who are forgiven, who are loved by God in a way which has the power to transform our lives. Our lives can be transformed when and if we learn to love not only our friends and family, but our enemies, only then can swords be beaten into ploughshares and the peace for which people fought, struggled and died become a reality in our world. By our trusting in the superabundance of God’s mercy and the power of the cross in our lives can we realise our hopes and dreams for peace. But we need to co-operate with a merciful and loving God, by living out lives which are informed by and filled with our faith, to bring about the peace for which we long, and which is the will of Almighty God.
‘I am the bread of life: and he that cometh to me shall never hunger: and he that believeth on me shall never thirst.’
It has been said that the oldest profession in the world are the ladies of the night, but as much as I hate to disappoint those of a more salacious disposition, this opinion is quite wrong. In the second chapter of the Book of Genesis we read that ‘the LORD God took the man, and put him into the garden of Eden to dress it and to keep it.’ Thus, to work the land is to engage in something which takes us back to the very beginnings of humanity, an honourable profession indeed. The practice of coming together to offer our praise and thanksgiving to Almighty God for the goodness of creation and a harvest safely gathered in is, likewise, an ancient and honourable thing – just as the Ancient Israelites gave thanks for their life in the promised land, so do we. We should, as part of our worship of God offer him the best of all that we have as a response to a loving and generous God.
But while this is important, we need to be careful not to get things wrong – we need to ask ourselves what are we here for, not as a question of existential angst, but as a serious question. Is what we are engaged in a bit of cosy folk religion, a matter of duty, an excuse to be seen, or perhaps something more? When this church was built, its congregation, who lived on and worked the land would gather on the 1st August for Lammas, or Loaf-Mass to give thanks for a successful grain harvest and with the renewal of the Church in the nineteenth century the idea of a harvest celebration became popular once again.
But as well as giving thanks to God, we also need to be shocked challenged and changed by the example and teaching of Jesus in the second lesson. Are we as a church and a society, content simply to be fed, or is God asking more of us. Our faith is not something we can keep safe in a box, to put on like a hat for church on Sunday – it needs to be more than that. Our faith must form all that we are, and all that we do, and say, and think. Our belief in our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ needs to form the very ground of our being. This faith, like a plant, needs to be tended, watered, and protected from weeds. Like a child it needs to be nourished, encouraged, and taught.
The crowd in the Gospel story have not grasped the meaning and importance of their being fed, they have not understood its spiritual meaning but are rather interested in the prospect of another free meal, whereas Jesus feeds them as a sign of their heavenly food, the bread of eternal life. Rather than working for the food that perishes we need to work for the bread of life, which is Christ himself. We need to meet at the Lord’s table to be fed by his word and his very self, his body and blood under the forms of bread and wine, to have our bread for the journey for our life of faith together, as God is the sustenance of life itself, of our very existence, for those who trust in him, and he will fill our every need, by giving us that which we cannot work for ourselves, and for which we hunger most.
Our desire for a world where none are hungry, where all are loved, requires our cooperation with the will of God, and our trust in him. By our being fed by his word and the Eucharist our lives can be transfigured, our faith strengthened and renewed, enabling us to transform the world around us, conforming it to the will of God. We can only do this through being nourished body and soul by God – through our participation in the Eucharist, the Holy Communion, the Lord’s Supper – fed by God, with God, for God’s work in the world. Only this can satisfy our deepest hunger and thirst, and give us true peace, and hasten the coming of God’s kingdom on earth.
‘In this way he will be able to encourage the others with the teaching, and also show the errors of those who are opposed to it’
– 28.viii.10 –
PREACHED AT VESPERS OF THE PATRONAL FESTIVAL OF S. AIDAN’S NEW PARKS, LEICESTER
It is fair to say that, of late, Celtic Christianity has been all the rage – with its ‘Wild Goose liturgy’ tear-and-share Eucharists, gazing into water, plenty of pebble-rubbing, and thinly-disguised nature-worship and a touchy-feely approach to the Christian faith which perhaps taps into the emotional side of the British which has been repressed by the stiff upper-lip approach.
If, however, such an understanding is allowed to go unchallenged, it will only serve to perpetuate a misunderstanding which does a great service to the life and witness of saints such as Aidan. These Celtic saints were serious, hard-working men, who took their inspiration from the first monastic communities founded in Egypt, whose leading lights were the Desert Fathers and whose lives and sayings are recorded by John Cassian and others. What we are dealing with are people, above all else, seeking to love God and their neighbour in thought, word and deed, living out the heart of the Gospel in their life and example. It is far too easy to engage in a superficial reading of them which fails to do justice to their lives of Christian service, but this will not do.
A salutary example can be found in the life of S. Aidan. A mission from the Celtic Church to the people of Northumbria had failed and it is Aidan who identifies correctly the reason why it failed. At a conference convened to discuss the failure of the mission, Aidan sets his colleagues straight: ‘Brothers, it seems to me that you were too severe on your ignorant hearers. You should have followed the practice of the apostles … and gradually nourished them with the word of God until they were … able to follow the loftier precepts of Christ’. In other words, Aidan saw clearly the need to meet people half-way, even when one is in the right, which is exactly what our Lord did.
In meeting people where they are, and bringing them to faith gradually, nourishing them first on the milk of human kindness before moving on to the more solid food of the Gospel, we see in Aidan a Christ-like gentleness combined with a zeal that the Good News of Christ will take root in the hearts and in the minds and in the lives of those to whom he is ministering. Aidan is sincere and serious, as Paul advises Titus to be, but he is, above all else, not overbearing, lording it over his brethren, or those whom he is seeking to convert. Rather, in patience and humility, which flow from the love of God and neighbour, his life and example speak of Christian charity lived out in a way which is infectious, to which people cannot fail to be attracted.
This, then, is the challenge to all of us here today – all the baptised people of God need to follow the example of Aidan in gentleness and love, aware of our sins and shortcomings and deeply penitent for them, yet firmly resolved to bear witness to the truth of the Gospel in our own lives. This is a demanding undertaking, one which needs to be grounded in prayer, in waiting on God, in letting him form us. It needs the comfort and strength of the Sacraments where Christ is truly present. We need to be nourished by the Body and Blood of Christ, fed in our minds, in our souls, and in our bodies, to have strength for the journey, for the task which Christ calls us to do in His name and for His glory.
This, then, is the true teaching which Aidan embodies and lives out. It stands in stark contrast to the error of touchy-feely liberalism, of a wishy-washy perversion of Christianity: the dangerous nonsense of Paul’s letter, which damages the Gospel with its laxity just like the harshness which Aidan opposed.
Aidan’s message and example, however, can be trusted as it is rooted in the example and doctrine of Christ and the Apostles – touchstones to which the Church must cling, lest it fall into error. We need then to be sincere and serious, as Paul advises Titus, since the commission to preach the Gospel by word and deed is a serious business for all Christians. We need to be sincere, as anything false or hypocritical damages the Church and the message which it proclaims. We also need to be serious, as it is our compassion, gentleness and humility, which make us truly Christ-like and our proclamation authentic. But for our doing the work of God to bear fruit, we need above else to pray for patience and perseverance. Only if we keep going can the good news of Christ flourish in our own lives and in those whom we seek to bring to new life in Christ, Such an undertaking takes time, and just as Aidan was prepared to live and preach in a way which would win out in the long run, so we too have to be prepared to be willing to taking our time and persevere in the service of Christ.
Quo nunc Ecclesia Anglicana?
It would seem appropriate to perhaps begin to think about such questions in the light of recent events, especially the Apostolic Constitution Anglicanorum coetibus.
I ought to begin by stating that my own opinion is neither fixed, nor settled, so … watch this space… Some people are overjoyed at the thought of ‘going over’. Can the work started by Newman, Keble, Pusey, Froude and countless others be said to have reached its completion?
All I can say at present is that the best thing to do is to listen to Thomas Tompkin’s Sad Pavan for these distracted times which while it was written in response to the murder of Charles Stuart by a bunch of Puritans, seems strangely appropriate.
I suppose the night is darkest just before the dawn