Author: reverendally

Human, parent, priest, (hymn)writer, painter, vegan, amateur. She/they. Chaplain @catz_Cambridge (views my own). Trying to do justly, love mercy & walk humbly.

Presence

hymns, random thoughts

Someone on twitter raised the question of how the language we use (perhaps particularly in worship) might how God is present to us.  Reminded me about a hymn I wrote for the closing worship of a supervision course ages ago, about us being present to God and God being present to us. The tune is Tallis’ canon.

Be present, Lord, among us here,
And speak to drive away our fear,
And as a stranger seeking rest
Be with us now as host and guest.

Our mind and spirit, flesh and bone,
Our past and present, things to come:
To you, O Lord, we now present –
We gladly spend, are gladly spent.

Our presence, Lord, we dedicate,
This time is yours, and we will wait,
To friend and stranger may we give
The gifts to help each other live.

John 6… again

sermons

We’ve been loitering around John chapter 6 for several weeks now.  Jesus has fed the five thousand, and his miracle has led into a lengthy and sometimes difficult theological discussion about the bread of life, which in today’s gospel has proved to be too much for some of the crowds. While Jesus was still making one packed lunch feed a crowd and even making the leftovers laughably miraculous, they were more than happy to follow him; now he’s started talking about them drinking his own blood and eating his own flesh, they’re not so sure. And small wonder – the very idea of cannibalism is abhorrent to most human cultures and societies, and for those who couldn’t get past the literal words of Jesus, what he was saying in today’s gospel was beyond what they could comprehend or accept.

For these last few weeks that we’ve been spending with John chapter 6, the lectionary has gradually immersed us in one of the most significant themes of John’s gospel account of the life and ministry of Jesus: namely, how does the physical, material reality of the incarnation, relate to the spiritual reality of what Jesus came to do?

When we ask ourselves this question as we read John 6, it’s helpful to remember something.  In John’s gospel, his account of the Last Supper doesn’t give us a version of what we call the ‘institution narrative’ for Holy Communion.  Where the other gospels give us Jesus breaking bread with his friends and saying ‘this is my body’ and pouring wine and sharing it with them saying ‘This is my blood – do this in rememberance of me’, John instead tells us the story of how Jesus washed his friends’ feet.

If we want to find a ‘this is my body’ and ‘this is my blood’ moment in John’s gospel, we look not to the Last Supper, but to John chapter 6,  Seeing the chapter this way can help us understand why John wrote his gospel in the way he did, and shed some light on how Jesus’ words and actions in chapter 6 relate to the rest of the gospel.

So, what do we find in chapter 6? Two things spring most readily to my mind, though there are many more.

First, we find an exploration of Jesus’ place in the history of salvation, of God’s love for the world. Just as the Last Supper makes the link between the Jewish Passover meal (remembering how God freed his people from slavery in Egypt) and our Holy Communion, so John 6 makes Jesus into a new Moses, contrasting the purely physical nourishment that the people of Israel ate in the desert, and the spiritual nourishment that Jesus can offer them.

Second, we find an exploration of the relationship between the physical reality of Jesus’ birth and earthly life, his miracles, and his coming suffering and death, and their spiritual meaning (on a purely metaphorical level) and effectiveness (in terms of God’s work of salvation).

So Jesus’ words in today’s gospel do rather challenge us with a question: what do we think is actually going on when we celebrate Holy Communion together?  I suspect that if we all wrote our answers down on a piece of paper right now, we’d get as many different explanations or understandings as there are people, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

But there might well be some common threads.

Firstly, that we’re taking part in something that’s bigger than we are, that has its roots in something that predates the time of Jesus’ earthly life, but that recorded and celebrated as one of the most significant moments in God’s relationship with his people. If you’ve ever had the privilege of taking part in a Jewish passover meal, or a Christian version of it, you will have been, I’m sure, acutely aware of the weight of history and the richness of tradition, of knowing that you are part of something that is far bigger than any of us. To sit down with one’s brothers and sisters in faith, and to share a simple meal is one of the most significant things that we can do together. It puts us in touch with one another and with God in a way that is profound and personal, simple and yet beyond our full understanding.

Second, we might find that between us we’ve tried to find words to express something of idea that the physical bread and wine and the words of the service are not all that is going on, that there is something deeper at work, through the grace of God.  When I see wedding couples, I often show them how the wedding service has four interwoven strands: words, actions, the couple’s own thoughts and feelings, and what God is doing in them and for them – together, those four strands make a wedding one of life’s most overwhelming experiences. It’s easy to see this at work in a wedding, but we can also see something similar happening in Holy Communion, in which we have Jesus’ own words of institution: this is my body, this is my blood; we have the bread and wine themselves, and the way we experience them with our senses; we have our own thoughts and feelings, understandings, doubts, questions, faith and so on; and we have the work of God in our lives through that moment that he has given to us that we call a sacrament.

John’s gospel is brilliant at highlighting the spiritual reality of Jesus’ actions and words.  This makes it inspiring and mysterious to read, and not always easy to understand. Some have even said that the balance is so far over to the spiritual that we lose some of Jesus’ humanity.  But even in chapter 6 I think there are real signs of Jesus the man even in the midst of all the theology: we have his frustration that the crowds can’t see beyond the free food, we see his despondency at the idea that some of his disciples may leave him, and that they may ultimately betray him; we see him trying everything to get them to understand what he is really about, what matters most.   Again and again we see his very willingness to use the ordinary stuff of life – fish, bread, wine, water – to unwrap the mystery of God’s love for his people. And ultimately, chapter 6 gives us a pretty heavy hint about the very real and physical death that Jesus is willing to endure in order that we might be raised up to participate in eternal life. ‘Lord, to whom shall we go, for you have the words of eternal life.’

John 6 shows us Jesus the teacher, Jesus the pastor, Jesus the leader, the new Moses, Jesus the sacrificial lamb, and Jesus the way to life eternal. As we receive the bread and wine today, may we experience the true closeness of the Son of God in bread and wine, and fine ourselves raised up and able to hear those words of life for ourselves and share them with others.

The Beheading of John the Baptist

sermons

Sermon for Sunday 15th July 2012 (Mark 6.14-29 & Ephesians 1.3-14)

I so often begin a sermon by saying that the gospel of the day is one of my favourites. This is not one of those times. In fact, it’s pretty hard to find any good news in this gospel.

As a moral tale, one can read it politically: point out that corruption and sleaze are nothing new, but have always been there, and that when those in power try to save face rather than face up to their mistakes, there are often casualties. We may lament at this, and at how those who speak up and speak out so often seem to pay too high a price for their integrity.

But there is no good news in any of that, no gospel, merely confirmation of what our sometimes-cynical minds know represents some of the worst of humanity. If anything, this shows us how much we – just as the world in Herod and John’s day – need the gospel.

And that gospel had been the whole meaning of John’s life. He’d spent his adult years preaching essentially three things:

  • Repentance and forgiveness are real, and necessary, and they are for everyone
  • The kingdom of God is coming closer, and this a promise of hope and a threat of judgement
  • There is someone greater coming: Jesus the Messiah.

These three messages were John’s whole reason for being.

The last one, that Jesus was coming, had finally started to be fulfilled.  The story of John’s beheading is told by Mark between the account of Jesus sending out his twelve disciples to begin their ministry, and their return, full of stories of success. The baton has well and truly been passed on.  John’s role as the last great prophet has been accomplished, and his work is done.

But the other parts of John’s message are not yet finished. And Herod stands as the final person to whom John brings them, and with whom he tries to share them.

John brings Herod the gospel of repentance, the truth about sin and forgiveness.  John’s right, Herod should not have married Herodias, it broke the laws that were there for a reason. And if Herod didn’t like it being pointed out, Herodias liked it even less. But Herod, at least, seems interested and ambivalent enough to listen. Were there stirrings of guilt and a desire for change somewhere in his heart, that could, eventually have found expression in the way he lived his life?  We will never know. But undoubtedly John’s last act was to keep on preaching repentance to Herod, and keep offering him the chance of God’s forgiveness, the chance to make things right. John never gave up his calling to show Herod the reality of God’s mercy, even though in the end, no mercy was shown to him.

And John also spend his last days showing Herod what the kingdom of God was like. This, I think, must have been what really intrigued the king. It’s as if he caught a glimpse of a different way of doing things, of a different kind of power, or a different world order, and was both fascinated and frightened by it. No doubt Herod would have kept John around far longer to see more of this kingdom of God at work, had he not made that rash, wine-fuelled promise to Salome and offered her anything up to half his kingdom.

So Herod was faced with a choice. Save John, and keep alive the glimpse of another kind of kingdom, or sacrifice John to save his own kind of kingdom, his own political reputation. Herod fails the test, just as Pontius Pilate would fail his own test when Jesus showed him a glimpse of the kingdom later. Herod, like Pilate, chooses the values of his own kingdom over the glimpse of the kingdom of God, and rejects his own shot at receiving mercy by failing to show it to others.

There are so many pre-echoes in John’s story of the story of the passion of Jesus. Not only the corrupt leader who can’t seem to make the morally right and spiritually right choice, the condemnation on a whim – but above all the way in which both John and Jesus approach their deaths offering to those who are hurting them a glimpse of the kingdom and a chance at forgiveness.  Right up til the end.

Jesus and John lived their lives as a blessing from God to the world.  But God’s blessing was not always straightforward or painless. They brought life and truth and mercy, and these values are sometimes so much at odds with the ways of the world that they may seem impossible to accept.  Jesus and John showed how to make good choices even when bad choices were easier, and they showed integrity even when self-interest was easier. But above all they showed us that there is nothing that God would not do, no length to which he would not go, to keep on giving his people glimpses of the kingdom and offers of forgiveness.

If we want a glimpse of that today, then we need look no further than the epistle reading: Ephesians will go on to talk at length about how to lead a moral life and how to live as a Christian community, but all of that is in the context of what Paul puts at the start of the letter: God’s love for the world is eternal, his blessing is beyond our imagining.  If we can keep that vision alive in our own hearts, truly grasping that the kingdom of heaven is not something far off and unattainable, but as something that is bigger than any of us, too powerful to be held back even by the corruption of the world, and is our whole purpose for being since the creation of the world, then we, like John and like Jesus, may find the strength and inspiration never to give up our calling, offering with every breath we have a glimpse of God’s mercy and blessing and forgiveness – to those around us.

Equality: Collective worship

children's ministry

Does equality mean everyone gets the same? Not always!

Imagine a row of chairs, each a different size. And imagine a line of people, all a different size.  The chairs and the people in Reception are all small, but the chairs for the adults are all big, just like the adults who sit in them!

Sometimes equality means getting something that fits us – the big people get big chairs and the little people get little chairs.

But what if a big person and a little person wanted to look each other in the eye?  If the adult’s on a big chair and the reception child is on the little chair, they can’t look each other in the eye so well!  But if the adult if they swap, they can see eye to eye – the big chair and the little person make the same height as the little chair and the big person!

And what if you’re trying to reach something?  If the reception child can’t reach the high shelf, is it because they are too small?  Or because the shelf is too high?  Just like if a person in a wheelchair can’t get through the door is it because they have a wheelchair that is too wide, or because the door is too narrow?  If we want things to be equal, we don’t make everything the same, we make sure everyone gets what they need.

So first we have to notice each other. Really really notice each other.  This is something we can all do.

But the best noticer is God.  He knows us each so well that he knows the number of hairs on our heads, and knows what we need before we even ask, and loves us all more than we can ever know.  He knows everything about us tha makes us special and unique.

Prayers:

Jesus said, God knows what you need before you even ask.

Think quietly about the things that worry you, about the things that challenge you, about the things that you are proud or, or afraid of.

Thank you God that you know all about us. Thank you that you hear us when we pray, and even when we don’t.Help us to notice what the people around us need, so that we can all be the best that we can be and do the best that we can do.

Jesus said, let the little children come to me.

Think about the opportunities you have, the chances to shine and be noticed, the people who care for you and love you and teach you.Think about children in other parts of the world who don’t haveall  the things we enjoy here.

Dear God, Thank you for all the ways that we are blessed here. Show us how to help others to have a chance to live life to the full.

Jesus said, not one of the little ones that belong to me will be lost.

Think about the people you know who are specially in need, because they are ill, or lonely, or afraid of something, or facing a big problem in their life. Think about the ways that you can show them they are cared for.

Dear God, thank you that you love every single one of us more than we can ever know. When we are feeling alone or when we think we’re not being noticed, help us remember that you are always watching over us.

SONG:

He’s got the whole world in his hands
He’s got the whole wide world in his hand,s
He’s got the whole world in his hands,
He’s got the whole world in his hands.

He’s got everybody here in his hands…

A little thought for Easter 2

sermons

When the risen Jesus visits his disciples his visit is characterised by several key elements of his overall ministry:

First, he brings peace – although they are startled and afraid at first, he brings his friends a peace of heart that they have not experienced for many days, and which will stay with them for ever. 

Second, he shares food with them – hospitality and sharing are central to the gospel, from the feeding of the five thousand to the Last Supper, and when we meet in Jesus’ name for Holy Communion we are continuing this tradition of gospel hospitality. Is there hospitality in our worship, in our life as a church?

Third, he brings joy – being in the presence of Christ should bring us joy, even amid the reality of whatever complex troubles of anxieties we have brought with us. Is there joy in our faith? In our life as a community of faith?  Are we really able to share one other’s joy?

Fourth, he brings the evidence of his own suffering, the marks on his hands, feet and side, showing that he truly has walked the path of life as we do, and that there is no place so dark or so painful that we have to go there alone; he will always go with us.  Are we willing to weep with those who weep, as well as to laugh with those who laugh? Are we willing to be vulnerable, to admit our own woundedness?

May we, as a church, as Christ’s body on earth, seek to live out these gospel values in all our activities.