Sermon at Parish Mass, Corpus Christi 2017

Genesis 14.18-20

1 Corinthians 11.23-26

John 6.51-58

Before I was ordained I attended a church called All Saints Margaret Street, in the West End of London. It maintains a high standard of Anglo-Catholic practice and liturgy. One of the customs there is that, if someone cannot manage the steps up to the altar, the Blessed Sacrament is carried to them in their place at the time of communion. And when this is done, the people all kneel, in silence. No-one has told them to do this, they just do it anyway. It is a profoundly impressive act of wordless piety.

The story is told there of a member of the congregation who brought her friend, who was not a believer, to High Mass, to see what she made of it. Well she didn’t respond at the time, but years later, as she lay dying in hospital, that memory kept coming back to her: the people kneeling, in silence, as the Blessed Sacrament was carried into their midst. And as the image would not go away, she finally gave in, and called the Chaplain, and received the Blessed Sacrament before she died.

We have seen great tragedies recently, terrorist outrages and the terrible disaster at Grenfell Tower. As the Queen has said, “it is difficult to escape a very sombre national mood”. Amid so much that reminds us of the fragility and transience of life, we instinctively seek a life that is more than this life.

Down the ages countless souls have found that life hidden in the Eucharist, in the sacred host and the chalice. Scorned by the world, despised by its enemies, the secret source of life in the Eucharist continues undiminished through darkness and storm, the beating heart of the Church’s life, our bread for our pilgrimage, our food for eternity.

We do not have to understand or analyse – how could we? These are divine mysteries whose depth we can never exhaust. But, like the woman dying in the hospital, we know that here is what we need, more than anything in this world. Although the teaching of Jesus seems scandalous and incomprehensible to some, experience and belief teach us that here in the Eucharist is the eternal life we seek and need.

Through this food and drink we receive eternal life, for by it we abide in Jesus and he in us, and he abides in the Father who is himself life inexhaustible. Here is the bread of eternal life, the “medicine of immortality”, as St Ignatius, Bishop of Antioch, cheerfully called it, while on his way to be eaten by lions in the Colosseum.

So we celebrate with joy and bring the best that we can to this, the one act of worship that Jesus gave to his church. This is the highest act of worship, for it is the worship that the Eternal Son offers to the Father, in which we participate. It is the world’s salvation, the perpetual memorial and making effective in every time and place of Christ’s offering of himself. As the prayer over the offerings on Maundy Thursday puts it, “as often as we celebrate the memorial of this sacrifice, the work of our redemption is accomplished”.

We do not do this for ourselves alone, but for the whole world. We offer material gifts of bread and wine, the work of human hands, and by that offering the whole world is embraced in Christ’s redeeming work. So we rightly offer the Eucharist not only for ourselves, but for others, those in all kinds of needs, the living and the departed.

Our celebration today expresses our belief in the Real Presence of Christ in the Eucharist, which is the belief of the Church in every age. Even Luther never doubted it. Without the Real Presence the Eucharist would be no more than a subjective act, like looking at an old picture or reading a historical novel: not actually an engagement with something real, but a mere reminder or commemoration of it.

We know that we cannot save ourselves, and something that happens simply in our minds cannot save us either. Jesus has to save us, and he does that in and through the Eucharist that he gave us, in which he is really, truly and substantially present. If Jesus isn’t in the Eucharist, he can’t save us through it. That he does, is assured us by the Prayer Book Catechism which tells us that the Eucharist is “generally [that is, universally] necessary for salvation”. “Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood”, says Jesus, “you have no life in you”.

And if there are those who turn aside from this teaching, who demand “how can this man give us his flesh to eat?”, we can answer, firstly, that this man is God, so he can do it, and, secondly, that he is the Truth, so we believe him when he says it.

The special rites we celebrate today, exposition of the Blessed Sacrament and Benediction, are not indeed essential to the Eucharist. But they are part of the way in which our celebration and joy at this great gift overflows. This is a particular development in the Western Church, where things tend to be done more visibly than in the East.

It is a beautiful instinct that has led the Western Church to fashion the monstrance, for exposition of the Sacrament, in the form of a star or sunburst. Because here truly is the Daystar from on high, the Sun of Righteousness, Jesus himself, hidden under the outward signs of bread and wine for our salvation.

I recently read the novel “Laurus”, by Eugene Vodolazkin. Set in mediaeval Russia, though with some fluidity of time and space, it is an age of great peril and uncertainty, murder, plague, famine, violence and sudden death. But also an age of faith. Laurus is the life story of a man told in phases that pass from sinful youth, through penitence, to the wanderings of a holy fool and pilgrim, and finally that of a hermit living in a cave, with a tame bear for company.

The hermit gained a reputation for sanctity, and many people came to him for prayer, spiritual guidance, and healing. A rumour went round that he kept in his cave a supply of the elixir of life, the magical potion that confers immortality. And the more he denied this as nonsense, the more people believed it.

Eventually he gave in, admitted that he had the elixir of life, and told everyone to gather the next day, and bring their friends. A huge crowd assembled, anxious and jostling to get to the front, wanting to claim their dose of the magical elixir before it ran out.

The hermit emerged from his cave, beckoned everyone to follow, and led them through the forest, to the nearest church. He entered just as the morning service was reaching its climax, and the priest appeared before the altar carrying the Eucharist for Holy Communion. The hermit stood in front of the crowd, and pointed to the chalice. “The elixir of life is in there”, he said, “and there is enough for everyone”.

Sermon at Parish Mass, Trinity Sunday 2017

"The Bible Challenge" is available on Amazon

Isaiah 40.12-17,27-31            

2 Corinthians 13.11-13           

Matthew 28.16-20

Last week someone I visited told me about a question he had heard on a quiz programme. The question was, ‘which of the following words does not occur in the King James Bible: “Devil”; “Christian”; “Trinity”.’ The answer, as I’m sure you all know, is “Trinity”. The word “Trinity” does not occur in the King James Bible, or in fact in any edition or translation of the Bible at all.

Now it’s perfectly true that there are New Testament passages such as those we had this morning where Father, Son and Holy Spirit are named together. But these do not explicitly spell out the doctrine of the Trinity. They do not say in so many words that these are three distinct Persons sharing one Divine nature, which is what Christians believe.

When I’m collared by, say, a representative of the Jehovah’s witnesses (other non-Trinitarian sects are available) they usually try to catch me out with this as though somehow it would be a surprise. But I explain that the word “Trinity” – three in one - does not occur in the Bible, because it is a theological term developed in the early church to sum up what Christians believed they were reading in the Bible.

So, Jesus is spoken of sometimes as human – he is born, gets tired and thirsty, suffers and dies. And sometimes in language that can only be applied to God – he is the Word of the Father, he forgives sins, walks on the deep, says “I Am”, speaks of the glory he had with the Father before the world existed. The Spirit too, is distinct from the Father, but also spoken of as God. And yet scripture is absolutely clear that God is one and one only. Put all that together, and you get the doctrine of the Trinity.

All this is implicit in the Bible, but it took some time to arrive at the doctrine of the Trinity as we have it now.

If you went to a Church in the second or third century, you would have seen not a Bible as we have it, one volume bound together, but a row of scrolls on a shelf. There would have been the Jewish Torah, and some of the prophets, but perhaps not all. You might have had one or two gospels (but not the same ones in every place). There might have been some of the letters of St Paul, perhaps his letter to the Romans, his four letters to the Corinthians (of which only two have survived) and his letter to the Laodiceans (which we know existed but hasn’t survived at all).

You might not have seen the book of Revelation, or the letter of Jude, which were regarded as very controversial, though they are in the Bible today. But you might well have seen the Letter of Barnabas, or the Shepherd of Hermas, which still exist but aren’t in today’s Bible.

All these collections of writings were a bit of a mess, so the Church began to codify them, to decide which were authoritative. Which of the writings, in fact, could be said to be inspired by God, conveying the truths that he wanted us to have? There was pretty early consensus about most of them, though some such as Revelation continued to be controversial. Codification eventually produced a codex, that is a collection of writings bound together in one volume, which is more or less the Bible as we have it today. At this point we are around the middle of the fourth century.

That is about the same time that the Church formulated the Creed, the profession of faith we read together at Mass. The creed expressed what the Church did and did not believe about the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. This was the faith that the Church proclaimed to be uniquely revealed in the scriptures that the Church itself had received and compiled.

What, then, does the Church believe about the Bible? Well let us look at what Jesus says about it. In quoting a psalm, attributed to King David, Jesus says, “David himself, by the Holy Spirit, declared, “The Lord said to my Lord, ‘Sit at my right hand, until I put your enemies under your feet.’”

Scripture is inspired by God but has human authors. The words of the psalm are those of “David”, the human author himself, whoever in fact lay behind that name; the truth that the psalm conveys is from the Holy Spirit.

We need to note this two-fold nature of scripture. Because human authors, even though they are moved by the Spirit, have their limitations. The writers convey the truths that God wants us to have, but are not fax machines receiving transmissions from on high. The truths of God were expressed within their cultural horizon and limitations, which included things like their understanding of sexuality, the role of women in society and the acceptability of slavery. And we of course are reading what they wrote within our cultural horizon, which has its own limitations.

Reading the Bible is not simply a question of looking up an answer. It’s a process of engagement, with the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit. We need not only each other locally but the witness of the church in other cultures, times and places. We can never say to other Christians that we have the whole truth and they don’t. We need each other.

Together, as the Church, we receive the truths revealed by God in scripture and expressed in the Creed, but lived out in diverse ways in every culture and time and place. Truth invites us on a journey; to receive it is to accept the direction in which God wants us to go, not to arrive at the final destination in an instant. It is a process of engagement, with the whole church, guided by the Spirit whom Jesus promised would lead us into all truth.

It’s a good thing to read the Bible. But it’s even better to do it in an informed way. And we are not perhaps as familiar with all the parts of the Bible as we ought to be. The readings we have in Church on Sundays are selected highlights, but there is so much more.

There are excellent resources to help our reading and study of scripture, and I’d like to recommend one today. The Bible Challenge sets out a systematic plan for reading the whole Bible in a year, which is about four or five chapters a day. You could spread it over two years if you want. Each day has notes from a number of well known and reputable Anglican Bible scholars from all over the world, from different cultures and backgrounds, which helps to challenge and enlarge our own local perspective.

I do recommend this, or another way of becoming more familiar with the Bible. Because far from finding that the Trinity is not there, we will discover that the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit are there on every page, leading and guiding us, with all the church, into the fullness of truth. And truth in the end is nothing other than communion with God the Holy Trinity, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit, blessed for ever.

Sermon at Parish Mass Pentecost 2017

By bobosh_t (http://www.flickr.com/photos/frted/5713011900/) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Acts 2:1-21

1 Corinthians 12: 3b-13

John 20:19-23

Once again we are in shock at events in our own city, at people whose hatred leads them to murder complete strangers. Our prayers this morning are with the victims and their families, with others throughout the world who suffer similar things, and with the police and those who try to keep our city safe. And, as taught by Jesus, our prayers must also be for our enemies and those who wish us harm, that they may repent and come to a true understanding of the God who loves the world he has created.

This attack, in election week, strikes at the heart of our society. The different political parties have alternative visions of the future and different ideas they want to implement, but all of the mainstream ones at least are motivated by a commitment to work together in a democratic society for the common good. If we don’t agree with them, we don’t need to demonise them, but simply to vote for someone else.

As Christians, whatever may take place in the world, we can still be confident in the vision of the future that opens up today, the day of Pentecost. The Holy Spirit of God is sent with transforming power upon a little group of disciples, sending them out to change the world. Pentecost gives a new possibility for humanity in which all the ancient divisions of race and culture are overcome, and all peoples can be gathered in unity, understanding the mighty deeds of God each in their own language.

Saint Paul in the first letter to the Corinthians this morning tells us about the new future for humanity that the Holy Spirit makes possible. This is more than just a tick list of spiritual gifts.

We might miss that because for some reason the Lectionary begins today’s extract part way through Paul’s argument. There’s a bit missing from the beginning, in which Paul says, “I want you to understand that no one speaking by the Spirit of God ever says ‘Let Jesus be cursed!’ and no one can say ‘Jesus is Lord’ except by the Holy Spirit.”

St Paul is contrasting two different cultures, contrasting world views, one of which is characterised by cursing – even to the extent of saying that ‘Jesus is cursed’. That is, it is the culture that assumes that people who end up on crosses are cursed. It is a culture of violence defined by the victims it casts out. It is driven by accusation, blame and fear. At its heart is a false conception of God as the one who curses. At its most extreme, it leads to the murder of innocent people enjoying a night out. But any culture that treats other people with contempt, as being of lesser value than ourselves, is slipping dangerously into that world view.

The crucified Messiah, the outcast God, is incomprehensible to a culture that needs to make victims. But the Holy Spirit enables us to see through that to the truth that Jesus really is Lord, to see that God in Christ takes the place of the victim. Jesus shows us what God is really like. In the man hanging on the cross he takes on himself all the cursing of which the world is capable, and in his resurrection gratuitously gives back to us, not a curse, but the blessing of forgiveness and new life in the Holy Spirit.

Today’s Gospel reading from John is set on the evening of Easter day, the day of the resurrection. The disciples have locked themselves away out of fear. The last time they had seen Jesus had been Good Friday, when most of them had deserted him and run away. The authorities surely would not stop with killing Jesus, but would want to eliminate all traces of the movement he had started. No wonder they locked the doors.

Then that morning had come the bewildering news that the tomb had been found empty, and Mary Magdalene even claimed to have seen Jesus and talked to him. To the disciples this must have seemed like a ghost story, with the scary dimension that the ghost now apparently roaming abroad was that of a man whom they had abandoned to his death.

Fear and blame, the spectre of a curse, haunt this scene. But when Jesus comes into the closed place of their fear, he doesn’t say to them, “I’ve got you now!”, or “how could you have let me down so badly?”. No. He says, “peace be with you”. And they rejoice. The risen Jesus inhabits a world in which there is no fear, no blame, no curse. In coming to the disciples he draws them into that world, and frees them from their fear.

And he sends them to draw others into that world too. He breathes on them the Holy Spirit, and sends them, as he was sent, on the Father’s mission of forgiveness and reconciliation. The Holy Spirit is given to the Church, as St Peter says in his speech today, so that “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved”.

This is the alternative world, the different story of being human, into which we have been drawn by God’s Holy Spirit, and into which we are called to draw others, too. Love, in place of fear. Forgiveness, instead of blame. Blessing, not curse. The gathering of all people into God’s Kingdom, in place of a culture of violence defined by the victims it casts out.

“As the Father has sent me, so I send you”, says Jesus. As the people of God we are sent by God’s Spirit, bearing God’s Spirit, to bring reconciliation and peace, to enlarge the reign of God’s love in the world. This is the alternative world we seek to inhabit, the different way of being human we seek to live, every day, in every situation. We are the Pentecost people of God and we are here to change the world.

This week we have a particular way to do that as we consider how to vote in Thursday’s election. St Paul sees authority in human societies as reflecting the authority of God, to be exercised for the common good, and it’s a huge privilege, something unknown in the New Testament, that ordinary citizens have a part in how society is ordered and governed.

Now of course it is not the business of a preacher to tell you which party to vote for. Christians can and do support all of the mainstream parties. But it is my business, I hope, to encourage you to take your responsibility seriously and reflect on how best to use your vote for the common good, to build a society that is a blessing, not a curse, a society that seeks peace and reconciliation, that draws in the marginalised rather than casting out more victims.

And when it’s not election day, we still need to live in the alternative world of the Holy Spirit, in all of our daily lives and encounters, especially when fear stalks our streets. In ways that may be great or small, seen or unseen, we are called to be those who enlarge the reign of God’s love and make known the good news of Jesus Christ our Lord.

So let us pray and commit this week to the Lord.

Risen Lord Jesus, come in to all the closed places of our fear. Breath on us your peace. Renew in us the gift of the Holy Spirit. Send us in peace, send us in forgiveness, to enlarge the reign of your love in the world. For you have conquered death and hell, and are alive and reign for ever and ever. Amen.