Sermon at Parish Mass Trinity 5 2016

Image credit: The Spectator

1 Kings 19.15-16,19-21

Galatians 5.1,13-25

Luke 9.51-62

It’s been a turbulent week in our national life, to put it mildly, and I doubt if it is over yet. When we enter a time of turmoil and change which is leading us into an unknown future, when we are seeking security, as Christians we might well turn to the Bible for comfort and guidance. But what do we read today?

Today’s gospel reading presents what seems to be a message of disturbing insecurity. Jesus is setting his face to go to Jerusalem, to be “taken up”; that is, this is his journey towards his death, which he foresees.

To someone who wants to follow him, he says, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head”.

Attachment to family, perhaps the most foundational unit of human identity and belonging, is ruthlessly rejected. “Let the dead bury their dead”. Nationality, race and religion – be they Jewish or Samaritan – are seen as stumbling blocks in the way of the Kingdom.

The message is uncompromising. Where do we truly belong? The Kingdom of God. Where are security and safety to be found? Nowhere at all on the way.

Why? Because of what we are leaving behind. Look at the long list of sins with which St Paul regaled us in the extract from Galatians this morning, what he calls the works of the flesh: “fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing”.

What are all those things but ways of seeking our security and safety, not in God’s Kingdom, but in things that we possess and control and the idols that we have to defend? And what do they lead to? St Paul says, biting and devouring one another. Because if we seek our security in possessions and other transient things, then we end up wanting what the other person has got and getting into conflict with them.

We see this in the episode that opens our Gospel reading today. Jesus sends messengers to a Samaritan village, but they refuse to receive them. Why? Because the Samaritans sought their security and identity in defining themselves over against the Jewish people. They were attached to their own identity and religious customs, and therefore rejected those who adhered to the Jewish identity focused on Jerusalem.

And James and John are just as bad: they are attached to their Jewish identity, and so want to call down fire from heaven on the Samaritans. But Jesus rebukes them. We must not become attached to transient things on the way to the Kingdom, or we will never get there.

The mistake of James and John is understandable, in a way. In the Old Testament the Land and the religious laws feature strongly as part of Israel’s identity. The Land of promise was the home of those who had received God’s promise of salvation. The religious laws defined who they were.

But the New Testament looks out beyond the boundaries of Israel, to the whole world. The New Testament does not see Earthly kingdoms and empires as ends in themselves, but does acknowledge them as useful if they serve the universal message of salvation.

So, the chosen people of Israel have faithfully carried God’s promise of salvation down through the centuries, sometimes in their Land and sometimes in exile. And the Land is the place where the Gospel begins – “beginning from Jerusalem”, says Jesus. But this promise is for the Gentiles too. It must go out into the world, and cannot stay within one people or place.

Again, in the New Testament the Roman Empire provides the context of a united Mediterranean world with good roads, a single currency and a common language, in which the Gospel could spread rapidly. But beyond that usefulness the New Testament has no interest in the Empire as an end in itself. And it acknowledges that the Empire could be an oppressive power as well as a useful one.

The landscape through which we travel on our journey to God’s Kingdom can offer many things which are useful and expedient, if they serve God’s Kingdom and its values. Earthly political structures, countries and states, are part of that. But if we become attached to them, if we turn them into idols and a cause of sin, then we have turned aside from the way of God’s Kingdom.

In Britain we now look to an unknown future for our country and for Europe. The UK has voted to leave the EU, for better or worse. For some people that is a cause of celebration. For others it comes as a great shock and is deeply distressing. And there are all the reactions in between. But Jesus reminds us that we must not become attached to passing institutions and structures, be that family or country or anything else. They are useful and of value insofar as they serve the Kingdom of God, but they must not become obstacles in our path.

We as Christians must seek to embody the values of God’s Kingdom in the new political reality that will unfold over the coming years, whatever form it may take. Those Kingdom values mean that we must focus attention on the poor, the marginalized, the vulnerable; we must stand for a radical commitment to peace, justice and human rights. All these things may come under threat from those attached to their own idols. It will be our task to bear a different message, a message of hope and love that points to God’s Kingdom and keeps us going on the way.

We are to be free from attachment. This is what St Paul means when he says “you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters”. He doesn’t mean freedom to do as we please, but a freedom from attachment that enables us to live in love and service to one another.

If we are seeking the Kingdom of God in all things, then we will see the fruits of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control”. That applies whether we are living in Judea, or the Roman Empire, or Great Britain, or the European Union, or somewhere else altogether. But, wherever we are, we are to use our citizenship of this earth to forward the purposes of God’s Kingdom, because it is there alone that our true citizenship and lasting identity are to be found.

Sermon at Parish Mass Trinity 4 2016

Isaiah 65:1-9

Galatians 3:23-end

Luke 8:26-39

When we read stories of people possessed by demons we might wonder what to make of them, in the 21^st century. Is this just a hangover from a dark age of superstition? But then we might well think of the demons that seem to be haunting our own society. We are in shock over the murder of a fine young member of parliament who worked tirelessly to support refugees and other people in need. We are appalled at the violence we have seen in America, most recently the murder of 49 people partying in a nightclub, targeted just because they were gay.

These acts of violence don’t come from nowhere. There is a background of fear, hatred and demonization that hovers around such deeds.

So today’s Gospel reading speaks very powerfully to our own situation. But it is an unusual story, even for the Bible: the language of people being possessed by demons occurs only in Matthew, Mark and Luke. And it goes with a big theme of those first three gospels: that the Kingdom of God is breaking in on the Kingdom of the Devil and overcoming it. This is what Jesus proclaims in word and deed. Throughout these gospels there is more to events than their surface appearances, and the powers of evil and destruction that oppress humanity are seen to have a spiritual dimension. This is why so many of Jesus’ healing miracles are described in terms of breaking the oppressive power of the Devil.

What, then, is that oppressive power, in today’s story? A man has been driven out from his community by the demonic powers; wild and uncontrollable, he lives naked among the tombs. And Jesus asks him to name the oppressive power. What is it that has driven him out? And he answers, “my name is Legion”.

The whole of Palestine at that time was under Roman occupation. The people were kept down by military power, the might of the legions of Rome. In particular, the Tenth Legion "Fretensis" had a strong presence and, in AD 70, it was to be that Legion that would destroy Jerusalem. The emblem of the Tenth Legion was a pig. It depicted was on their shields and banners, and stamped on the millions of bricks and tiles that they made to build their walls and fortifications. Everywhere the people would have seen this reminder of their oppression: the words “Legio X” and the image of a pig.

“What is your name”, asked Jesus. And he answered, “my name is Legion”. And the demons demanded to go into the pigs.

The oppressive power of Rome sat heavily on the whole of the community. But this man particularly seems to be acting out that oppression in his own person. He is possessed by the demons of his society. And he has been driven out into the tombs.

In his vulnerable mental state he seems to have internalized the oppression of his own community. Their own fear and sense of oppression is being acted out by this man, but at a distance. He is a scapegoat, carrying away what ails them into the wilderness. They probably feel more secure because their fear has been projected onto him and carried off to the margins.

No wonder, then, that when he is cured, clothed and in his right mind, the people are afraid. He can no longer act as their scapegoat, and their fear has returned to them. But although he wishes to leave them and follow Jesus, Jesus tells him to remain with his people and tell them what God has done for him. He has to stay, and teach them not to be afraid.

Jesus commanded the unclean spirit to come out. This was more than freeing one man from spiritual oppression, it began the healing of his whole community. And the Kingdom of God broke in upon them, freeing them. The Kingdom of love, not hate; of unity, not division; of forgiveness, not revenge.

What are the demons that oppress our society? Many people I think feel a sense of alienation and disillusionment with our common life. People feel that decisions are made remotely from them, that they have no opportunities or say in their own lives. This can lead to anger and resentment.

And such feelings are easily exploited. On both sides of the Atlantic we have seen fear, hatred, demonization of the foreigner and refugee. Some of the words and images used in the EU referendum campaign have been recklessly inflammatory. And on the other side of the water the rise of Donald Trump is causing grave concern.

We live in a world of social media, of instant reaction and split second comment, where emotions escalate rapidly. I try not to read the comments sections under online news articles, where people post whatever they like, often comments of scorching hatred and contempt.

“Comment is free”, says the Guardian. I beg to differ. We pay a heavy price in our common life when so much comment is instantaneous, unthinking and malicious. Irresponsible talk and imagery reacts more strongly on those who feel most alienated, and on those who are less in command of their reason. As Goya put it in one of his most haunting etchings, “the sleep of reason produces monsters”. And have we not seen that, this last week?

But the monsters do not have the final word. The Gospel is the good news of the Kingdom of God breaking in on the Kingdom of the Devil and overcoming it. The risen Christ is triumphant. In a wonderful piece of imagery used by St Paul in Colossians, he says Christ defeated the powers and led them in his victory parade. Exactly what the Roman empire did to its captives, Jesus has done to the powers that were embodied in the empire itself.

As we vote this week in the EU referendum we can recall the Christian values that are at the heart of European and British civilization. The Archbishop of Canterbury has reminded us of this in these words:

‘At the heart of Britain’s Christian heritage are certain glorious principles. They are what make the best of our nation, whether we are Christians, of another faith or of no faith. They come from Jesus’s teaching, especially in the Sermon on the Mount and the Beatitudes. Among those principles is a vision of peace and reconciliation, of being builders of bridges, not barriers. … Sacrifice, generosity, vision beyond self-interest, suffering for others, helping the helpless, these are some of the deeply Christian principles that have shaped us.’

Christians can and do have different views on whether membership of the EU best promotes those principles, both for ourselves and for other nations. But let those be the principles that we think about when we consider how to vote. Let us as Christians set an example and lead the way in recovering our political life: with careful listening to others, courtesy and moderation in our speech, a broader vision that looks out for the stranger, the marginalized, and the poor. Let us through our lives and words proclaim what Jesus has done: the defeat of the power of the Devil, and the inauguration of God’s Kingdom of love, unity, forgiveness and peace.

Sermon at Parish Mass, Trinity III 2016

2 Samuel 11.26 - 12.10,13     

Galatians 2.15-21                   

Luke 7.36 - 8.3

We’ve probably all experienced those awkward social moments. The person you’re talking about in disparaging tones whom you suddenly realise is standing just behind you. The unpredictable uncle at the wedding reception who’s had a bit to drink but insists on making a speech and mentions all the things you hoped had been forgotten. The moment you remember that Sally is a vegetarian just as you start carving the roast beef in front of her.

Well today’s gospel reading certainly ranks with those occasions. The scene is a dinner party at the house of Simon the Pharisee. Meals like this, at that time, would not have been private affairs. The doors of the house would have stood open and all sorts of people would have been coming and going.

But this was still a society with strict rules of behaviour, of inclusion and exclusion. Some people were unclean under the religious rules. They would have known not to go in, because they would have contaminated everyone else and ruined the meal. Others were just simply permanent social outcasts, people with a bad reputation whom no-one wanted to mix with. They too would have known their place, that they couldn’t mingle in normal society. The doors of Simon’s house may have been open, but there were still invisible barriers to keep the wrong sort of people out.

Simon was a Pharisee. Pharisees were good people, law abiding and religious, concerned that everything should be done properly, in accordance with the rules. And this new Rabbi, Jesus, had come along, and was causing quite a stir. Simon wants to know, is Jesus really from God, or not? Might he even be a prophet? So he invites Jesus to a meal, hoping to find out more.

And then disaster strikes. In the middle of this dinner party, doubtless with many important guests, there appears this dreadful woman. Luke doesn’t tell us the details of her bad reputation, but everyone present knew who she was, knew the rumours about her. Social awkwardness seizes the gathering.

And it just gets worse. The “fallen woman” comes up behind Jesus – the guests would have been reclining on couches with their feet pointing away from the table – and pours out a precious ointment, and the tears that are streaming from her eyes, onto his feet. She touches Jesus, transmitting her ritual uncleanness to him. She lets down her hair – no respectable woman would have done that in public – to dry his feet in place of a towel.

And Simon thinks to himself, if this man was a prophet, he would know what sort of a woman this is, that she is a sinner.  And – this is the crux of the whole story – Simon is right. Jesus knows exactly what sort of woman this is.

But Jesus embarrasses his host even further by pointing out his lapses in hospitality, and comparing him unfavourably with the woman. You gave me no kiss, you didn’t wash my feet, you didn’t perfume me. She has done all these things. Why? Because she loves.

And Jesus then tells a parable to bring home the point. She loves so much because she has been forgiven so much. She is indeed a sinner – that is, a child of God who has gone astray. And she has seen in Jesus the God who knows her to be a sinner and loves her anyway. She believes in the God who has found her in Jesus, and her faith has saved her.

In this story, the woman and Simon the Pharisee are opposites. He is secure, in his social position and wealth, and in his sense of his own righteousness. He knows and keeps all the religious rules.

But the woman has broken all the rules, or at least enough of them for Jesus to talk of her many sins. But she finds herself justified in the presence of Jesus. She, and not Simon, is told that her sins are forgiven. She has sinned much; she has been forgiven much; she has loved much. 

Simon and the woman illustrate St Paul’s point this morning in his letter to the Galatians. He is addressing a gentile church which has been disturbed by a controversy – if they believe in Jesus, the Jewish Messiah, should they keep the Jewish religious law? Paul’s answer is no – you are saved by your faith in Jesus, not by religious works. And doing the works of the law, being religious and respectable and upright, won’t save you. For Paul, when it comes to salvation, it is either Jesus, or your own efforts – and only Jesus will do.

God’s light, God’s searching judgement, reveals to us that we are sinners. Simon the Pharisee hasn’t got that far, yet. He does not see that his attachment to the religious rules is itself a sin, trying to justify himself by his own efforts instead of depending on God.

But if God’s light shows us that we are sinners, it also shows us the more wonderful truth, that we are loved. Faith opens our hearts to God’s forgiveness, his free gift in Jesus, and lets his love flood in to our lives.

There is something wonderful here. God’s love is so transformative that our sins become the very means by which we know ourselves to be loved. The woman in today’s Gospel loves much, because she has been forgiven much, because she has sinned much. The Franciscan Richard Rohr writes this:

“In the divine economy of grace, sin and failure become the base metal and raw material for the redemption experience itself… Sin and salvation [go together]. Salvation is not sin perfectly avoided, as the ego would prefer; but, in fact, salvation is sin turned on its head and used in our favour. That is how transformative divine love is. If that is not the pattern, what hope is there for 99.9 % of the world?... God seems to be about turning our loves around and using them toward the great love that is their true object.”

The woman’s sins may have been sexual in nature, given the scandal that she causes the religious people (sins of the financial order, which exercised the prophets rather more, don’t seem to bother religious people so much). What are sexual sins, though, but attempts at love that fall short of their object? Well, now she has found the great love for which we are made, the love of God. Her sins have been turned on their head and used in her favour.

Or think of St Paul. He was a Pharisee, like Simon, striving for perfection by works of religion, and violently opposing the dangerous new movement founded by Jesus which let any old sinner in to a place at the table. Until he met the risen Jesus on the road to Damascus. “Why are you persecuting me?”, asked Jesus, and turned him around. Saul, the Pharisee, became Paul, the Apostle of grace, making known to all the forgiveness and love that come through faith in Jesus Christ. His sins, too, were turned on their head and used in his favour.

In this church our door stands open, like the door of Simon the Pharisee’s house. The church is the people of God, not the club of good people but the community of forgiven people. We are a people who stand in the light of God and know that we are loved and forgiven, and so are able to love in return. This is the mark of a true church: that anyone coming in and looking at our community should be able to say, “you see these people? I tell you, their sins, their many sins, must have been forgiven them, because they show such love.”