Yesterday I conducted my first two weddings, not that I told them that until it was all over!
As I prepared for these last week I was struck by the privilege of being able to preside at such joyous occasions, the beauty of the language and how marriage stands as an enduring sign of faith, hope and love.
In stark contrast none of us could open our newspapers this week without having been struck by the grief of families affected by war, the spread of swine ‘flu and the latest figures on the state of our public finances.
It’s hard to know where these two realities meet and one wonders whether they can both be true at the same time? In my wedding preparations, however, I found a prayer that seemed to address this very question and which offers marriage as a sign to the world;
Almighty God, in whom we live and move and have our being,
look graciously upon the world which you have made
and for which your Son gave his life,
and especially on all whom you make to be one flesh in holy marriage.
May their lives together be a sign of your love to this broken world,
so that unity may overcome estrangement,
forgiveness heal guilt,
and joy overcome despair;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
Corpus Christi
This last week the Church celebrated ‘Corpus Christi’, a day of thanksgiving for Holy Communion. As I approach presiding at my own first Mass, it is a sacrament that I have been reflecting on much recently.
Down the centuries, the Church of England has not wanted to restrict believers to one interpretation. Indeed, our differing words for the sacrament witnesses to its richness of meaning. For some it is the ‘Lord’s Supper’- a memorial of Jesus’ Last Supper with the disciples, for others it is ‘Holy Communion’- a place where we meet God in a very special way, others use the term ‘Eucharist’- a word that comes from the Greek for thanksgiving and still others use the Word ‘Mass’- from the Latin words at the end of the service which sends us out into the world.
In a typically diplomatic observation Elizabeth I famously said, “His was the word that spake it, He took the bread and brake it; and what His word doth make it, that I do believe and take it.” In many ways each of these understandings have something to offer us as we hear of Christ’s actions of taking bread, blessing it, breaking it and giving it to his disciples.
Like me, you too may have had moments at the altar rail that have been particularly powerful yet which you struggle to define. And so, as we mark Corpus Christi, I would not worry too much about exact definitions but would commend to you the advice of Cyril of Jerusalem (c.350AD) who encouraged communicants to, “Make your left hand as a throne for your right hand, as you prepare to receive a King.”
Elvis has now left the building
Elvis has now left the building. This now classic phrase was first uttered in 1956 by one of Elvis’ concert promoters in a vain attempt to encourage his fans to stop hanging around for yet another finale. The fans, however, didn’t believe him or just didn’t want to hear it. So as the promoter, one Horace Lee Logan, tried to ram the point home he continued, “"Please, young people... Elvis has left the building. He has gotten in his car and driven away.”
But the phrase, ‘Elvis has left the building’ has been oft quoted in popular culture, becoming the title of a film in 1994 and a Frank Zappa song released in 1988. And it sums-up something the sense of shock and disbelief that fans can feel when their hero suddenly leaves the stage.
This morning we too have to come to terms with a sense of shock and disbelief as we take on board the fact that Jesus too has, ‘left the building’. Or to put it in more traditional terms, he is ascended.
Because, this week we took another step in our Easter story when on Thursday we celebrated Christ’s Ascension to Heaven. Over the last forty days we have been hearing of the appearances of the risen Christ to the disciples and others. This week, however, marks the end of those appearances as he ascends to heaven, returning to his Father as his glorification is complete.
The feast of the Ascension is a confirmation of Christ’s victory over death and the cross and also acts as sign of our own destiny to return to God, our heavenly Father. As such, it is an opportunity to celebrate the joy and hope of our eternal calling.
But as one reads the stories of Jesus ascension, there is something else going on as well. First, when Mary Magdalene recognises the risen Christ at the tomb she clings on to him- but he says that she must let him go so that he can ascend to the Father.
In the account of the Ascension in Acts, we hear about the disciples criticised by the angels for staring up into the clouds as Jesus ascends. Indeed, they appear bewildered as it begins to dawn on them that Jesus really has left.
And finally in our reading this morning from John’s Gospel, Jesus looks ahead to the time after the ascension and prays for a group of disciples who seem to want nothing more than to leave the world behind and to disappear off to heaven with Jesus.
So, if the ascension is a fulfilment of all that Jesus had lived and died for, it is also a moment of crisis and loss for the disciples. One in which they seem to either be clinging on to him, staring after him or desperate to be in heaven with him.
However, there are no more finale, their hero is gone. Jesus has now left the building.
Together these scenes paint a picture of a group of disciples seemingly unable to face the future. They had left their jobs and homes, they had followed Jesus during his preaching ministry, they went with him to Jerusalem. They suffered the terror and tragedy of his trial and crucifixion and then- beyond their wildest dreams- he was raised from the dead.
For the disciples it has been a momentous three years which had utterly changed them and convinced them that God was indeed doing something miraculous in Christ. But now it seems that they are facing the biggest crisis of all- as Jesus seemingly leaves them on their own.
As Mary Magdalene clung onto him she must have thought back over the love and acceptance that he had shown to her and realised that she too had to share that inclusive love with others. But for now- she just couldn’t let him go.
As the disciples looked up into the clouds as Jesus ascended, they must have thought back over all that he had taught about the Kingdom of God and realised that they too had to proclaim that topsy-turvy Kingdom to others. But for now they felt rooted to the spot, staring into the clouds.
As the disciples feared for the future, they must have been reminded of all that Jesus suffered and may have realised that they too were called to lay down their lives for others and to build a community of love in his name. But for now, the idea of disappearing off to heaven seemed more inviting.
Somehow they just didn’t seem to have it in them to live up to all that Jesus stood for and died for. Indeed they seem to be so heavenly minded, that they are no earthly good.
So what do we learn from these responses?
Firstly, they remind us that if there are times when we don’t feel able to respond to Christ’s calling- we are not alone. From those who first witnessed Christ’s ascension, to saints down the centuries to each of us gathered here- none of us can do it on our own.
As I approach my own ordination to the priesthood, I have to say that this is a familiar feeling. As I look to other Christians, consider all that might be done and the responsibility of this office- running away sometimes seems a reasonable option. I was reading of a newly appointed medieval Abbot, who in a particularly low moment, once prayed; ““Wretch that I am, What have I done? What have I undertaken? What was I thinking of?” None of us can do it alone, Abbots included.
The ascension also reminds us that we do not come to Church to cling desperately to Jesus, neither to stare wistfully up into the sky, nor to leave the world behind. Rather we come to remember what God has done in Christ, to allow his gentle love to reshape us and to build communities that live out that love in the world.
Lastly, it reminds us that all we can ever do to respond to God’s love is through the power of His Spirit. A power for which the disciples prayed, but which they were yet to receive.
So if you hear these stories of the ascension and like the disciples feel yourself a little bereft or, like me, not really up to the job, then Jesus says to you;
“I will not leave you as orphans but my Father will send the Holy Spirit in my name and he will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give"
Wait for it...
If you were left in a room with a plate of marshmallows and asked not to touch them, what would you do? I know my answer.
Apparently this was a serious experiment conducted with children in the 1960s. Tracking them in later life, scientists concluded that those who could wait turned out to be more successful. Well now we have a similar experiment, right here in Church.
Sorry, there are no marshmallows- but I can offer you the season of advent which starts today. Advent invites us to wait, before we enjoy the celebration of Christmas. Looking down the high street or flicking through our own diaries may make this seem a forlorn hope.
Despite this background noise, however, Advent demands patience; patience to wait for the coming of Christ at Christmas and patience to wait for his return at the end of time and the ultimate fulfilment of the Kingdom of Heaven.
I have never been very good at waiting but according to one new book, it is an important Christian virtue. ‘The meaning is in the waiting’, says Paula Gooder in her book of the same name, containing daily reflections for advent. Through such active waiting, she suggests that we can learn to savour the present moment, to recollect God’s promises from the past and to yearn for their ultimate fulfilment in the future.
As a gentle chant from the Taizé community puts it:
Wait for the Lord,
Whose day is near,
Wait for the Lord,
Keep watch, take heart!
Martyrs and witnesses
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This week the Church remembers several important ‘martyrs’ amongst them Nicholas Ridley and Hugh Latimer. They were both Bishops, important figures in the English reformation and ultimately victims of its tumultuous politics. Their legacy to the English Church is significant. Ridley was Chaplain to Cranmer when he was Archbishop of Canterbury and had an important influence on the Book of Common Prayer. Meanwhile, Latimer was a great preacher and eventually became Bishop of Worcester.
Eventually, when Mary Tudor came to the throne and restored Roman Catholicism, both Ridley and Latimer were burned at the stake in Oxford. According to tradition the older Latimer cried out to Ridley as the flames grew higher, “Be of good comfort master Ridley, and play the man. We shall this day light such a candle by God’s grace in England, as I trust shall never be put out.” Over four hundred years on, it seems his final wish was granted.
Today, we understand martyrs to be those who have died for their faith or for a cause. Interestingly, the ancient Greek word, ‘martyros’ refers to ‘a witness’. It was only later within the life of the persecuted early Church that it became clear that to be such a witness sometimes called for the ultimate sacrifice.
St. Paul tells us that we must all stand ready to give an account of what he describes as “the hope that lies within”. So whilst none of us are likely to be martyrs, all of us are called to be witnesses.
A very modern idol
Several years ago, when Helen and I were planning our wedding we decided that it would be fun to work with a jeweller to make wedding rings for one another. This involved spending a day melting a lump of gold, pressing it into a band and bending it round, creating the join and smoothing out the curves, before finally buffing and polishing. This complex process was all assisted by an attentive jeweller over our shoulder and a glass of bubbly within easy reach. It made for a memorable day and I’d be happy to recommend them to any engaged couples here this morning.
Melting down gold jewellery is also a significant feature of our Old Testament reading this morning. The infamous story of the golden calf. Moses, we hear, has been away on the top of Mount Sinai, speaking with God and receiving the ten commandments. Meanwhile, the people of Israel seem to have given up on him and God- deciding instead to make a god for themselves. And so they gather-up their gold, cast the image of a calf and bow down in worship- as Aaron proclaims, “These are your Gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt.”
This is perhaps the classic story of idolatry in the Hebrew Scriptures. A story that is replayed again and again as Israel turns from God and his law and puts in his place a variety of idols. Sometimes they chose gods of more powerful nations. At other times they chose gods who seemed more accommodating than the God of Israel- with his tiresome laws. And on more than one occasion they preferred eastern fertility gods with what we might politely term their ‘exotic’ worship practices.
Time and again we hear the prophets preach against these idols and mock those who bow down to lifeless statues. Isaiah challenges these idols to predict the future, knowing that they will be silent. Jeremiah asks what kind of people go around swapping gods- exchanging the glory of the one true God for a worthless lump of wood. Meanwhile, Ezekiel takes it a stage further suggesting that people have set-up idols in their hearts and that it is not just an outward temptation but also be an inner obsession.
Talk of idolatry can seem an ancient irrelevance. Surely these are merely the bizarre practices of a bygone age and an ignorant people. And yet, there are some very modern idols. Indeed only last week, as turmoil on the financial markets deepened and Gold reached £16/gram the Archbishop of Canterbury suggested that the western world has made an idol of the market.
In an article in the Spectator, he argued that capitalism has its own mythology. One which proclaims that the market has a reality, authority and mind of its own. Reading the papers this week, it does seem as if the market has a global power which all must recognise, that we must follow wherever it leads and that huge, possibly human, sacrifices must be made to it. It seems that the Archbishop may have a point.In the Old Testament, idolatry in the Temple was seen as the cause of decay in wider society and potential national ruin; justice was forgotten, the poor trampled under foot and foreign nations threatened war.
This week, there has certainly been a lot of comment on the failure of ethics and regulation within our own financial markets; whether it be unrealistic borrowing, trading in toxic debt or bonuses that reward recklessness. This in turn has given way to even more worrying talk of a wider economic recession.
We do have to be careful about reading Scripture on to the modern world. But might these events be the result of our idolisation of the market? A belief that greed and fear are the only economic principles?
Perhaps the most developed Christian analysis of the market can be found in the social teaching of the Catholic Church. It understands the market positively as an effective engine for progress and development, however, it warns that the market must never be allowed to become a law unto itself.
Rather the market should be seen as an effective means to a higher end. That higher end is the ‘common good’ and flourishing of all humanity. And this requires us to use justice, freedom and truth as our guiding principles and love as our final regulator.
It would seem that this idol is now crumbling before our eyes. Possibly, collapsing under the weight of its own rich decoration. In the face of these momentous events there are, of course, many lessons to be learnt not only for our bankers and politicians but also for all of us who borrow and save.But perhaps the most radical response that we can make as the Church, is to worship. To worship the one true God, to allow his love to fill our hearts and overflow into lives which seek the common good of all humanity made in His image and likeness.
Amen.
Funeral Prayers for Shakilus Townsend
The video above is a Home Office anti-knife Crime video. Copies of this were circulated to young people attending the recent funeral of Shakilus Townsend at St. Stephen's south Dulwich. Below are some of prayers that were said at that funeral.
Creator God, we give thanks for Shaki’s life. For his cheeky smile, for his friendship, his love and for each of the special memories that we cherish.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
God of faithfulness, you have called Shaki to yourself. Forgive his sins and failings we pray, welcome him into your presence so that he may find his rest in you.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
Christ you called us to be a neighbour to all. And so we give you thanks for all those who were with Shaki in his last moments on earth. For members of the public, for the paramedics, and for the doctors and nurses of St. George’s hospital.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
Father of all, whose Son is the Prince of peace. We pray for all our young people that they may know the power of your love and may see it in the care of their own family and friends.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
Christ said, “Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called children of God” and so we pray for all working to bring an end to this violence and commit ourselves to bring peace to our streets.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
We pray for all who miss Shaki so much, especially Nicola, Derek, Shaki’s brothers and sisters and all those who love him. Father, we offer you our anger, our grief and our tears. We pray that you may hold us tightly in your arms so that we might know your peace, your comfort and your love.
Lord hear us
Lord, graciously hear us
Father God, you are our beginning and our end. We pray that we may live in the light of that knowledge and ask for your wisdom and grace that we might to use well the time left to us on earth.
And so we say together…
God of mercy,
Entrusting into your hands all that you have made,
And rejoicing in your communion with all your faithful people,
We make our prayers through Jesus Christ our Saviour.
Amen.
Forgiveness...
A couple of years ago, I was one of several leaders organising a Church youth club camping trip. The minibuses were packed and before we set-off, we decided to fill-up at the petrol station opposite the Church. I went over and dutifully filled-up with about £50 worth of diesel. That’s back in the days when £50 bought you quite a lot of fuel!
Anyway, I drove the minibus back over the road. The young people piled in and I turned the key in the ignition. In response the engine spluttered, thick black smoke poured out of the exhaust but forward movement- there was none. I wonder whether you have spotted my innocent mistake? Yes. This minibus ran on unleaded petrol and was not going anywhere.
The person leading the trip did not take this development terribly well. Indeed, it would be fair to say that she was apoplectic with rage and did not speak to me until we had rented a new minibus, unloaded, reloaded and driven in silence to the campsite. It was a long journey during which time, I had ample opportunity to meditate upon my need for forgiveness.
The unforgiving servant
In our Gospel reading today we hear of others in need of forgiveness in the ‘Parable of the Unforgiving Servant’. This story tells the tale of a King who discovers gross mismanagement of his accounts by his servant and is about to sell his family into slavery when the servant pleads for mercy.
His debt of ten thousand talents is vast. One talent represents 20 Kilos of silver and ‘ten thousand’ was a turn of phrase for the largest number imaginable. The servant’s plight seems to be hopeless.
To our surprise, however, the King displays an outrageous generosity and forgives the debt. The servant’s memory is, however, very short and rather than allowing this gracious experience to change his life he rushes out to demand full payment of one hundred denarii grabbing his debtor by the throat. The King hears of this, calls the slave back to him, tortures him and demands he pay back the whole, original debt. Something he will never achieve.
So what are we to make of this parable?
Is God an angry King and are we merely miserable sinners in need of forgiveness? Our modern secular society would say no. Instead it would suggest that we are responsible individuals, requiring no higher authority for our lives. So, it would conclude that we need neither God, nor his forgiveness. I would like to suggest, however, that this is not true.
Firstly, I believe that we know our need of forgiveness inside ourselves. We wish to do the right thing and to live out the Gospel and yet too often what we pray and desire on a Sunday evaporates under the pressure of Monday.
Secondly, we know our need of forgiveness in our personal relationships. We may wish to do good by our friends, neighbours, even our loved ones. And yet we all carry memories of regret. For selfish choices, for things said in anger or- not said in fear.
Thirdly, we know our need of forgiveness in our wider world. Whilst many God-given energies are making the world a better place. We read daily of hunger in a world of plenty and pollution in a world of abundant blessing.
So perhaps the image of God as a merciful King is not so unhelpful. Perhaps the idea of ourselves as people given huge responsibility, and yet flawed, isn’t so wide of the mark. And maybe the idea that this forgiveness needs to be shared around starts to make sense.
Forgiveness is a fundamental plank of the Gospel.
For it is forgiveness that reconciles us to God and one another. At its heart, forgiveness is about relationships and it points us back to the relationship of unending love and understanding shared between the three persons of the Trinity.
Reconciliation, is also one of the sacraments of the Church, and it is offered to us when we come to baptism. In Baptism, we are invited to turn to God in response to his overflowing love. And in a few moments this is the profession that Jose will be making and all of us will have the opportunity to join with him in repenting of our sins and turning to Christ.
When the people of Israel passed through the Red Sea they were liberated from slavery. And, as Jose passes through the waters of baptism, he will be liberated from his sin. As they stood on dry ground, Jose is now putting his life on a firm foundation. And as they sought the promised land, so too Jose take the next step in his journey of faith.
And so, brothers and sisters, I invite you to join Jose as we are reconciled with God and one another and march on together to the promised land.
Amen.
Anyway, I drove the minibus back over the road. The young people piled in and I turned the key in the ignition. In response the engine spluttered, thick black smoke poured out of the exhaust but forward movement- there was none. I wonder whether you have spotted my innocent mistake? Yes. This minibus ran on unleaded petrol and was not going anywhere.
The person leading the trip did not take this development terribly well. Indeed, it would be fair to say that she was apoplectic with rage and did not speak to me until we had rented a new minibus, unloaded, reloaded and driven in silence to the campsite. It was a long journey during which time, I had ample opportunity to meditate upon my need for forgiveness.
The unforgiving servant
In our Gospel reading today we hear of others in need of forgiveness in the ‘Parable of the Unforgiving Servant’. This story tells the tale of a King who discovers gross mismanagement of his accounts by his servant and is about to sell his family into slavery when the servant pleads for mercy.
His debt of ten thousand talents is vast. One talent represents 20 Kilos of silver and ‘ten thousand’ was a turn of phrase for the largest number imaginable. The servant’s plight seems to be hopeless.
To our surprise, however, the King displays an outrageous generosity and forgives the debt. The servant’s memory is, however, very short and rather than allowing this gracious experience to change his life he rushes out to demand full payment of one hundred denarii grabbing his debtor by the throat. The King hears of this, calls the slave back to him, tortures him and demands he pay back the whole, original debt. Something he will never achieve.
So what are we to make of this parable?
Is God an angry King and are we merely miserable sinners in need of forgiveness? Our modern secular society would say no. Instead it would suggest that we are responsible individuals, requiring no higher authority for our lives. So, it would conclude that we need neither God, nor his forgiveness. I would like to suggest, however, that this is not true.
Firstly, I believe that we know our need of forgiveness inside ourselves. We wish to do the right thing and to live out the Gospel and yet too often what we pray and desire on a Sunday evaporates under the pressure of Monday.
Secondly, we know our need of forgiveness in our personal relationships. We may wish to do good by our friends, neighbours, even our loved ones. And yet we all carry memories of regret. For selfish choices, for things said in anger or- not said in fear.
Thirdly, we know our need of forgiveness in our wider world. Whilst many God-given energies are making the world a better place. We read daily of hunger in a world of plenty and pollution in a world of abundant blessing.
So perhaps the image of God as a merciful King is not so unhelpful. Perhaps the idea of ourselves as people given huge responsibility, and yet flawed, isn’t so wide of the mark. And maybe the idea that this forgiveness needs to be shared around starts to make sense.
Forgiveness is a fundamental plank of the Gospel.
For it is forgiveness that reconciles us to God and one another. At its heart, forgiveness is about relationships and it points us back to the relationship of unending love and understanding shared between the three persons of the Trinity.
Reconciliation, is also one of the sacraments of the Church, and it is offered to us when we come to baptism. In Baptism, we are invited to turn to God in response to his overflowing love. And in a few moments this is the profession that Jose will be making and all of us will have the opportunity to join with him in repenting of our sins and turning to Christ.
When the people of Israel passed through the Red Sea they were liberated from slavery. And, as Jose passes through the waters of baptism, he will be liberated from his sin. As they stood on dry ground, Jose is now putting his life on a firm foundation. And as they sought the promised land, so too Jose take the next step in his journey of faith.
And so, brothers and sisters, I invite you to join Jose as we are reconciled with God and one another and march on together to the promised land.
Amen.
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