Sunday Sermon: Luke 17 5-10 - Jesus, faith and the mustard seed

Luke 17:5-10

The apostles said to the Lord, “Increase our faith!” The Lord replied, “If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you could say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you. “Who among you would say to your slave who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field, ‘Come here at once and take your place at the table’? Would you not rather say to him, ‘Prepare supper for me, put on your apron and serve me while I eat and drink; later you may eat and drink’? Do you thank the slave for doing what was commanded? ¹So you also, when you have done all that you were ordered to do, say, ‘We are worthless slaves; we have done only what we ought to have done!’”

Do you ever think about the nature of your faith? Do you ever analyse  

whether, in your view, it is strong or weak? Do you draw any conclusions from your answer?

The reading from Luke begins with the apostles crying, "Increase our faith!" but we don't know why. The lectionary has given us this brief extract of an exchange between Jesus and his followers but unless we can remember what went before we’re pretty much in the dark. Why did they feel they needed more faith? Now possibly you can remember what happened in the preceding verses, but I couldn't. What’s the context here – because we do need the context or we’re likely to go off on entirely the wrong tack?

I read these words and wondered if the disciples were perpetually anxious or pious but that doesn’t sound much like the disciples as Luke generally presents them. Or perhaps they just felt like you could always use more faith so they just asked for it every once in a while. (Well, we could all do with that attitude, couldn’t we?) Or, possibly they felt they were duty bound to ask for more faith. (Again, who doesn’t?)

After I read back in the passage, I discovered the real reason was simpler than these - but the implications much harder. Jesus had just asked the disciples to do something they knew they couldn’t do. He told them, "If a person sins against you seven times a day and turns back to you seven times and says, 'I repent,' you must forgive." If we ponder the daily practicalities of that for a moment we should all be horrified: that is indeed a hard road to travel.

In one of the other Gospel versions of this story, Peter asked Jesus, "Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?"  Jesus answered, "I say to you, not seven times but seventy times seven.” or to put it another way, an infinite number of times.  Challenging or what?

So, there’s our context: no wonder the disciples were begging for an increase in faith and felt inadequate. Perhaps they could forgive seven times in a lifetime, but seven times a day? Surely even Mother Teresa couldn't do that? I’m not at all sure that I could anyway.

The disciples are more like us than we are often willing to acknowledge. They were willing to do what was reasonable and even exceptional to follow Jesus. They had left their homes and their jobs and their families to travel with their Master, but now Jesus was beginning to ask seemingly impossible things of them and they didn't know how to do them. As a matter of fact, they knew they couldn't do them. They weren’t sure that they could take Jesus at his word: was he speaking literally or figuratively?

Do we recognize that in ourselves? Are we not like the disciples? Do we not have the same doubts and the same crisis of confidence?

When they came to this realisation, it’s as if they wanted Jesus to give them some blueprint - some clear manual - that offered simple steps for being a disciple. You may not remember an American initiative called the Four Spiritual Laws that were doing the rounds in Evangelical circles some years ago, but they wanted something like that. Not that there was anything wrong with the Four Spiritual Laws as such but they weren’t, of course, the simple answer Christians then hoped they would be – they were a sort of 1970s pre-figuring of The Alpha Course: lots of discussion but, as it turned out, no easy answers.

In short, the Disciples wanted to be transformed, but they didn't really believe they could be. Does that ring any bells? Like them, have we become so accustomed to seeing our world as it is that we can’t imagine the world as God wants it to be? They couldn’t imagine seeing the people who have wronged them as their brothers and sisters instead of villains. Are we a bit like that too? We largely spend time with PLUs – people like us: people who share our values and our worldview and we are often stumped by other ways of thinking or by other people’s experiences. Christians are often uncomfortable with people of other faiths, straights with Gays, blacks with whites, able-bodied with the disabled and so on because actually we don’t get out that much and cross boundaries, so our worldview is restricted and therefore, so is our ability to relate to others who are also part of what Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu refers to as “the rainbow people of God”.

Here we are a few days after the reelection of the Labour leader and all the angst and division caused by that – which is far from resolved. Here we are just a few months from the BREXIT referendum and all the angst and division that went with that – also far from resolved. How have those events given our faith a knock? We hear stories of family relationships and friendships that have suffered as a consequence of those divisions as people feel bruised, let down and betrayed.

Most of us have known for a long time if we are red or blue or orange – maybe even green or purple (you know, when they show the map on election night and colour the constituencies according to which party won there). So deep are the divisions that much of the time we don’t feel we can engage beyond a superficial level with those who think differently to us, much less hear the piece of the truth the other person has to say. American politics seems even more polarised.

My mother was an ardent Tory and I mean ardent. She was only slightly to the left of Attila the Hun. I once asked her, "How do you get along with your friends who vote Labour or Lib Dem?" and, after a pause, she said, "I don't think I have any friends who vote Labour or Lib Dem." Why would she? In her eyes they were simply wrong.

In political terms, we tend to think that the world is red or blue or orange, and we struggle to imagine that there is an identity deeper than that because it isn’t our experience. Our world so readily gives us labels and we much too readily accept them. Just ask someone one of those red-line questions: immigration, the E.U., gay marriage, abortion, and immediately when they answer you think that you know who that other person is and make judgements about them based on that snapshot – generally negative judgements based on stereotypes. Watch a stranger on a bus read a newspaper and, if you can see the name of the paper, you probably believe you know their voting profile and their stance on any number of political and social issues. Our response to them may well be shaped by the preconceptions we have about them and part of that revolves around a sense that they have got it wrong, and in their own way have contributed to the mess we believe we are in, so we generally don’t engage with them – and that’s not in any way to assume that we are right in our views. Once we have that identity fixed, it's hard to believe anything else.

Yet Jesus says if a person repents seven times in one day, seven times we are to see them afresh as a child of God. Jesus calls us to look again at the person who we perceive is wrong or who as a consequence of their outlook has wronged us and see them as God sees them: not as the other but as a child of God capable of receiving forgiveness – our forgiveness - which means seeing them differently. Forgiveness is not about whitewashing the past; it's about seeing the present in a new light. And it’s not just about seeing others in a new way but recognizing, as part of that, our own inconsistencies and weaknesses: it’s about reconciliation and looking toward a future of change and openness to new perspectives, of redemption - and surely we need a deeper faith to manage that because it’s not likely to come through our own endeavours.

Forgiveness insists that people are not red, blue, orange, green or purple - or male and female; black, white, brown or yellow; straight or gay; working class or middle class or any number of other false categories we use to pigeonhole people. Instead we all belong to the same flock with Jesus as the shepherd.

No wonder the disciples cried, "Increase our faith." Jesus is calling for them to see their reality in a new way, as he’s calling us today to see our reality in a new way.

Since they don't know how to do this, Jesus gave them an answer, but it's not the one they expected. He told them, "If you had faith the size of a mustard seed, you say to this mulberry tree, "Be uprooted and planted in the sea, and it would obey you." The disciples wanted a diagram for getting from point A to point B in the journey of their discipleship, but they didn't get one. Faith isn't a game plan for solving our problems, nor is faith understanding why things are the way they are. At the end of the day, faith is rarely about answers.

Faith is what we believe about the love of God through Jesus Christ and how that impacts on our relationships with others. Faith is about being grasped by Jesus so that we know in our hearts that our lives and his life and the life of the world are mixed together. Once that happens, we see ourselves and our neighbours and our world in a completely fresh way. Once that happens, we know that the only thing that matters is that love, and that the only reality is God’s grace. Once that happens, we can forgive because we are new creations; and, therefore, we see everyone else as a new creation.

The hard truth is that we cannot earn this grace nor can we achieve it. It's a gift. All we have to do is open up a little and God does the rest. All we need faith the size of a mustard seed; that is, we need a small crack in our preconceptions and God will transform us.

When we think about whether we can change the world, we always despair. But let us remember it's not about us, it's about God working through us. We can do little, but is there anything God can’t do? Our task is to pray for faith and to trust in the Holy Spirit to effect change in us and through us.

And the truth is, it doesn't take much: a word, a touch, a gesture can give us a fresh perspective. It only takes faith the size of a mustard seed for God to transform us.

Have any of you ever read "To Kill a Mockingbird"? When I was teaching, I was once on detention duty and some of the kids were doing catch-up reading for their English Literature GCSE. Supervising detention is very boring – one step away from spiritual death - so I picked up a copy and as I browsed I came to the point where the white men came at night and surrounded the jail where Tom, the black man who had been wrongly accused of a crime, was being held. The men were a mob. They didn’t see Tom; they only saw an enemy because of how they had categorised him and they were blinded by rage. Scout, a little girl, (It can only be an American story) watched them. Her father told her to run away and go home. But Scout didn't run, and she didn't fight. Instead she found the right response that became the mustard seed.

Scout looked at one of the men in the mob and said, "Hey Mister Cunningham, don't you remember me? I go to school with Walter. He's your boy, ain't he? We brought him home for dinner one time. Tell your boy 'hey' for me, will you?"

There was a long pause. Then the big man separated himself from the mob, squatted down and took Scout by both her shoulders. "I'll tell him you said 'hey,' little lady." The mood began to change. Mr. Cunningham left, and one by one the mob dispersed. The girl had whispered words of grace. She offered the mustard seed of faith that opened the man's eyes, his heart and his soul.

Instead of a world of divided loyalties, ours has the potential to be a world of grace. God whispers those words every day in every place. In faith we should be ready to be open enough to ask for -  and to receive that grace and then who knows what change we can effect in this world and in the lives of others?

Amen

 

 

 

Sunday Sermon: Luke 16.19-31. The Rich Man and Lazarus

Luke 16:19-31

 

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and who feasted sumptuously every day. And at his gate lay a poor man named Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man’s table; even the dogs would come and lick his sores. The poor man died and was carried away by the angels to be with Abraham. The rich man also died and was buried. In Hades, where he was being tormented, he looked up and saw Abraham far away with Lazarus by his side. He called out, ‘Father Abraham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue; for I am in agony in these flames.’ But Abraham said, ‘Child, remember that during your lifetime you received your good things, and Lazarus in like manner evil things; but now he is comforted here, and you are in agony. Besides all this, between you and us a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who might want to pass from here to you cannot do so, and no one can cross from there to us.’ He said, ‘Then, father, I beg you to send him to my father’s house— for I have five brothers—that he may warn them, so that they will not also come into this place of torment.’ Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the prophets; they should listen to them.’ He said, ‘No, father Abraham; but if someone goes to them from the dead, they will repent.’ He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the prophets, neither will they be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’”

 

 Three friends die in a car crash, and they find themselves at the Gates of Heaven. Before entering, they are each asked a question by St. Peter himself.

"When the funeral service is taking place and your friends and families are talking about you, what would you like to hear them say about you?" asks St. Peter to each in turn.

The first man says, "I would like to hear them say that I was a great doctor and a great family man."

The second man says, "I would like to hear that I was a wonderful husband and a teacher who made a huge difference to our children."

After some thought, the last man replies. "I would like to hear them say.... LOOK !!! HE'S MOVING!!!!!"

No, I’ve not gone mad.  I start with that as an illustration: given time, I’m sure we could all come up with a joke about the afterlife and today’s Gospel reading illustrates that there were stories about the hereafter at the time of Jesus too but what we need to recognise straight away is that the parable teaches absolutely nothing about the nature of the afterlife and it was not intended to; here Jesus is merely playing around with an old folktale. The difference is that we tell our afterlife jokes to amuse: Jesus told his to challenge a group of people – The Pharisees. The passage tells us: “Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and Scribes were grumbling…” (Weren’t they always?)

Now the nature of a parable is that it has two levels of meaning: there is the literal meaning – what you see is what you get – but there is always another level, often more obscure and it is this level that usually carries the real punch. It’s a story with a hidden message: a spiritual nugget for those who understand. “I speak to them in parables, because seeing they do not see, and hearing they do not hear, nor do they understand.” We hear from Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel. (Ch 13)

So, let’s consider the literal meaning.

This parable takes place at a gate: an entrance, a passing point. The rich man in this story lives a life of ostentatious comfort on his side of the gate, while Lazarus suffers on the other side of the gate. The rich man's preoccupation with wealth and their different social status prevents him from acknowledging Lazarus or reaching out to ease his suffering during his lifetime. We can imagine the rich man passing by the poor man at the gate several times a day, never once addressing him.  From the rich man's point of view, they live in two entirely different worlds with a huge divide between them. There is a gate between them which keeps them apart and, because that divide had been so fixed during their lives, the parable tells us that the distance – or chasm as the text puts it, kept them apart in the afterlife too.

In so many ways, this is a parable about society and illustrates today, as it did then, how fractured and compartmentalised society at its worst can be. It speaks of social division with so many people leading life in a bubble, separate from, and ignorant in any real sense of the lives of others. We live in very different worlds from so many other people and because of that we can apply the parable in a variety ways in relation to our society: wealth, class, education, political affiliation, race etc. but however we choose to interpret the story, Jesus is teaching us about the link between our spiritual life and how we serve and treat our neighbours. So, looked at that way, the gate where the story takes place can be understood as the gate of ignorance, of understanding, of empathy, of compassion – or lack of.

Anyway, both men die: Lazarus likely of starvation and illness, and the rich man? Well, it’s tempting to imagine his death as an over-indulgence linked heart attack or stroke. Lazarus goes to heaven; and the rich man to Hades and in the afterlife their roles are reversed, with Lazarus resting in the "bosom of Abraham" and the rich man suffering the torments of Hades.

Just because this is the literal story and Jesus’ message is really to be found in the hidden meaning doesn’t mean that we can’t take a moral from this level of understanding. We can. We can talk quite reasonably about a practical application to our attitude to wealth and status, or at least relative wealth and status. We need to make this parable real for ourselves otherwise it will remain as a story without the power to touch us. We need to find an application to our daily lives: I don’t have a starving beggar living on my doorstep but, as it happens, I personally find beggars in general, alcoholics and addicts, often aggressive and all rolled into the same person, a problem.

How about you? Who is it that you don’t see? Who is your Lazarus? Is it about race, sexuality, gender, age, disability, social class, weight, political affiliation, a position on BREXIT? Which is it? The parable should become very uncomfortable because in so many ways we are like the rich man. What sort of future do we have to look forward to? How have we been a part of the problem or solution in terms of a more equal society? Have we been good stewards of our riches and do we share them with people in need? Are we judgemental towards those who are different to us? Or do we, like the rich man, live selfish lives, and care less about the outcast in our midst and the poor in the wider world? Tough questions: yet the parable raises these questions for us and it is for each of us to answer them.

So the parable works on the literal level because there is a challenge there to living the Christian life and serving the outcast and the marginalised out of obedient discipleship. We have a perfectly valid application of a Biblical story which is that it is not sufficient merely not to do evil and not to do harm, but rather that we must seek to be helpful and do good, to go the extra mile. The Rich Man wasn't even a little merciful to Lazarus in his lifetime; he was blinded to the needs of compassion by his own wealthy lifestyle. Lazarus, by contrast, was forced to live a life relying on mercy and compassion, which was not forthcoming.  

 But we must still struggle with the hidden meaning. One of the keys to unpicking this level of understanding is to recognise that the key characters almost always stand for someone else. Well, we only have three – unless you include the dogs – The Rich Man, Lazarus and Abraham - and we should include the dogs because they aren’t there as a throw away detail. Indeed they may be the key to unlocking the puzzle. Do you remember the account of Jesus meeting a gentile woman in Mark’s Gospel: a woman from Syrophoenecia? Jesus is initially very harsh with her: “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.” He just called her a dog, which was how the Gentiles were seen, so who are the children in that story? The Jews.

It is the same in this parable. Lazarus, unclean because of his sores, is comforted by, and associated with, the dogs: unclean animals in Jewish belief and the Rich Man would certainly not have had one in his house. Lazarus is being presented as the outsider, the Gentile. At the same time the Rich Man is being identified with the Jews so, on his death it would be only right and proper for him to go to the bosom of his father Abraham and take the seat of honour beside him. But no, it is the outsider, Lazarus who takes the place of honour at the spiritual banquet so far reserved for the Jews, while the Rich Man is cast away.

Yes, well, very interesting but so what? What has this to do with me?

Well the stories of the Syrophoenecian woman, the Centurion with his Servant, the parable of the Good Samaritan and a number of others, open up the prospect that Gentile believers would also become “sons of Abraham” through faith in Christ. The Jews had been Abraham’s physical descendants, but after the crucifixion the place of honour and blessing would be also opened up to the people represented by Lazarus. That’s you and me and potentially most of the people we know.

The self-righteous, accusing Pharisees and scribes, the religious authorities, should have been the ones telling these people of God's love for them. They should have been the ones teaching the people, all people, exhorting them to return to God and receive His love and forgiveness. But, because of their faith in their own righteousness and their contempt for these common people who didn't measure up to their standards, the Pharisees and scribes excluded them and considered them outside the scope of God’s grace.

And what of the ending which didn’t get much attention in the literal understanding of the story? It’s key here: the ending points beyond the parable to Jesus. In the same way that the rich man’s brothers wouldn’t believe if someone were sent from the dead to warn them, The Pharisees would not believe even when Jesus was raised.

Not even a visitor from the dead would convince the elite to recognize the needs of the outsider. Neither does Jesus’ resurrection have the power to create faith, if one does "not listen to Moses and the prophets”, which directs us to caring for the poor, the needy, the outcast and the marginalised. In this understanding the physically marginalised become the spiritually marginalised and the injunction is now to go beyond their physical needs and acknowledge their spiritual needs.

Now this is quite a different understanding of the story to the first and yet in many respects the outcome is the same in terms of its practical application: in either understanding of this parable we need to talk about our obedient discipleship in the way we relate as Christians to others. From the literal understanding of the story we can legitimately talk about understanding our own prejudices and recognising the other in our society to whom we need to express the love and compassion of God. We can then work out ways in which we can be servants of those people in our charitable giving, in our volunteering of time and in our attitudes when we meet those people.

It is the same when we consider the hidden meaning of the parable. We are confronted again with issues of obedient discipleship in the way we relate to others. This time, though, our responsibility lies in recognising that it is not for us to seek to put limits on God’s grace but to recognise that through Jesus’ incarnation, the way to God - so often seen as the exclusive preserve of one group - is now open to all people. The task here surely lies in our being willing to see God in those we come into contact with, regardless of who they are, and to trust the Holy Spirit that those same people will see God in us. This is our Christian witness by word and deed and the Spirit works through us to convict others of God’s love for them and to bring them back to Him – whoever they are. This is God’s grace and it isn’t earned: it is a free gift. It doesn’t depend on a person’s status in society, their wealth, their morality or their religiosity: it depends simply on faith in Jesus. The gate in the parable now becomes not just the gate of compassion but the gate of salvation.

Because of the incarnation no one is an outsider any more. As St. Paul teaches us in his letter to the Galatians, “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.” That’s not to be seen as an exhaustive list as it merely reflects the social divisions of its time. People just need to know that God’s gift of a relationship with Him is a free gift of grace and how will they know that if not through us? Surely we would want to share with others who have not yet experienced it, our experience of the saving grace and love of God.

Now there’s a practical application and a challenge.

 

Sunday Sermon. Luke 15.1-10. The lost sheep and the lost coin.

Luke 15:1-10

 Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to him. And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.” So he told them this parable: “Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness and go after the one that is lost until he finds it? When he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders and rejoices. And when he comes home, he calls together his friends and neighbours, saying to them, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who need no repentance. “Or what woman having ten silver coins, if she loses one of them, does not light a lamp, sweep the house, and search carefully until she finds it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbours, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost.’ Just so, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents.”

 

When I came to look at this passage, I was rather dispirited. These two stories are generally told as part of a trio with the Parable of the Prodigal Son. “Whoopie”, I thought, “The Prodigal Son.” There’s a story to get your teeth into.

It begins in V11.

So we’re left with these two little stories which are generally seen as the starter to the main course of the Prodigal Son, the soup rather than the meat.

Perhaps that’s why the compilers of the Lectionary chose to end at v10 today, to ensure that we give these little nuggets of teaching due attention, these little nuggets that have a touch of the Sunday School about them – and we all know the meaning in these parables: the shepherd and the woman stand for God who seeks the lost and when they repent, there is rejoicing in Heaven. There we go! Job done! Coffee anyone?

So the challenge has to be to find something new in what is so familiar that we tend to slide over it, “Yeah, yeah, we know this one.”

I think the first thing that strikes me about these parables is they are quite passive in the sense that we are pretty much observers to the stories. Two scenarios are presented to us as an audience and, short as they are, they each have a beginning, a middle and an end and each parable is resolved with a good outcome. As I’ve already said, we know from way-back the moral of the stories and because they are resolved happily there doesn’t, on the surface, seem very much for us to do – other than assent, because the resolution is in God’s hands and at God’s initiative.

Where’s the challenge?

We know that Jesus used parables to their greatest effect when they spoke to the lives of his audience. Yes people in his original audience would easily identify with the scenarios. They were often poor, so the story of the lost coin would have significant resonance there, and many kept their own livestock because theirs was often a subsistence existence and the loss of one animal would  have untold negative consequences. Well, in the relative poverty stakes none of us here can count ourselves as that poor and yes, I know Brunel keeps rabbits but livestock? Really?

These examples don’t speak to our generation in the way they spoke to Jesus’ original audience. Perhaps the second parable speaks to the house-proud, (and my personal strategy on that is to leave a duster ostentatiously lying about in the generally forlorn hope that Rachel will believe I’ve actually been doing something around the house), but tidiness isn’t really the point of the story.

So we have two parables of how the lost were found and we know, in a general sense, who the lost are – other people: people who don’t know God; people who don’t have a relationship with the living Christ; people who see no place in their lives for the sort of spirituality Christianity offers.  Not bad people as such - people who in many senses live lives much like ours but without the added dimension of a daily experience of the grace, the love and the forgiveness of God in their lives and who, like the sheep and the coin, have no sense of being lost and who would probably be very offended at the very idea.

Recognising that sort of shifts the dynamic of the parables away from the passive way they seem to be presented. We know these people. They are family members, friends, neighbours, co-workers and fellow students. They are no longer abstract, anonymous beings and because we know them, the emphasis of their being found shifts from God to us: they become our responsibility. Now, there’s a challenge. How are the lost found if we know who and where they are? (And just as a passing thought, this speaks to the reality of our diocesan Leading Your Church In To Growth initiative.)

Is the problem that we tend to think of the lost as those on the very fringes of society? The homeless, the beggar, the addict, the offender, the refugee? Those who, rightly, we think need the specialist help of outside agencies because we don’t have the skills and resources to support them? Well, they’re there too, numbered in the lost, and perhaps we are right not to get too involved with those needing specialist help because there are others who work exclusively with them, but that doesn’t let us off the hook with the rest, those we come into contact with on a daily basis and to whom we can relate. The bottom line is that we number ourselves with the found and the experience of that should, surely, be enough for us to want to share that same experience with others.

On Friday night we had a little community event in our street. I got into conversation with someone I hadn’t met before, a very personable and socially able man who, inevitably, asked me what I do. “I’m a vicar.” I said with a certain degree of misgiving because that does tend to be a conversation killer, but actually it wasn’t and I was left pondering my own somewhat apologetic attitude. I’m embarrassed about being ordained? Perhaps I’m guilty here of projecting that diffidence about my faith on to you. Am I right in assuming that what was true of me on that occasion is also true of you: that you feel awkward about initiating discussions about personal faith and belief? And are you sitting there now thinking, “Good grief, if he can’t do it, what hope is there for us?” But actually that was a very fruitful conversation and it led to a discussion about my role as a prison chaplain and how small acts of kindness and friendly words become moments of grace for those I meet in the prison.

There’s a famous quote from St. Teresa of Avila which I’m sure we’ve used in our own liturgy on a number of occasions: “Christ has no body now on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ must look out on the world. Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good. Yours are the hands with which He is to bless His people.”

There was a picture that turned upon my Facebook feed yesterday: it shows a shocked couple looking at a letter. “It’s from our church. We’ve been called up for active duty.”

It really is down to us and if we don’t yet feel too confident about being theological in our conversations we need to recognise that this isn’t the only way to be “out and proud” followers of Christ. If “talking the talk” is too challenging, we can “walk the walk” and show in the way we live our lives that we are disciples. In doing so we may well plant a seed that others might water and harvest.

There’s a young man called Tim Haigh who comes into the prison as a volunteer. He’s an ex-offender, a former drug user and general thug. He’s now a Christian who has written a book called “The Leopard Who Changed His Spots” which charts how he had an encounter with the risen Christ at the point of his lowest despair. It talks about being found. It talks about redemption and its being read by literally hundreds of prisoners, many of whom have started to come to chapel. Now one of the key things about his story is that on a number of occasions in his early life, Tim came into contact with Christians who planted seeds for him in much the same way that he is now planting seeds for others. They may come to fruition immediately or it may take decades, but the seeds are planted.

In our own small ways we can be - indeed already are - like Tim. We may not have dramatic life-changing stories to share, but what we say and how we behave plants seeds for others. We may be the ones who reap the harvest of the seeds planted by others and we may simply be the ones who plant the seeds but you can’t have one without the other and so perhaps we shouldn’t feel awkward about our fumbling attempts to share our faith because we don’t know how or when the Holy Spirit will water the seeds and tend the new growth.

“Christ has no body now on earth but yours; no hands but yours; no feet but yours. Yours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ must look out on the world. Yours are the feet with which He is to go about doing good. Yours are the hands with which He is to bless His people.” Let’s renew our understanding of the implications of that today and commit ourselves to being more up-front and less apologetic about sharing the good news of the Gospel with those we meet.

Amen

Sunday sermon - Luke 13.10-17: Jesus heals on the Sabbath

Luke 13:10-17

 

Now he was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. And just then there appeared a woman with a spirit that had crippled her for eighteen years. She was bent over and was quite unable to stand up straight. When Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, “Woman, you are set free from your ailment.” When he laid his hands on her, immediately she stood up straight and began praising God. But the leader of the synagogue, indignant because Jesus had cured on the Sabbath, kept saying to the crowd, “There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.” But the Lord answered him and said, “You hypocrites! Does not each of you on the Sabbath untie his ox or his donkey from the manger, and lead it away to give it water? And ought not this woman, a daughter of Abraham whom Satan bound for eighteen long years, be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?” When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame; and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing.

 

What are you going to do this afternoon? This afternoon, the street I live in is having an open gardens event. We may go to the cinema this evening – there’s a new Jason Bourne film I quite fancy. Often after the service I pop up to Gomersal to see a former colleague: sometimes alcohol is involved. I can pretty well choose to do as I please and I can’t think of any prohibitions to stop me. Other Christian friends choose to do absolutely nothing apart from attending a Sunday service. There's a world of variety in Christian practice in between.

Think for a moment about what you’re planning to do today and think back to some of the things you’ve done in the past on Sundays.  Think back (if you’re old enough) to how Sundays were celebrated twenty, thirty, forty years ago and consider the changes. Custom and practice has changed and we’re left wondering about how to obey the Third Commandment: Remember the Sabbath day, and keep it holy.

From the time this commandment was given by God to Moses, there has been disagreement about why we should honour the Sabbath and how we keep it holy. The book of Exodus links Sabbath observance to the creation: For in six days the Lord made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, but rested the seventh day; therefore, the Lord blessed the Sabbath day and consecrated it. In Deuteronomy a different reason is given: Remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the Lord your God brought you out from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm; therefore the Lord your God commanded you to keep the Sabbath day. The Sabbath was meant to be a gift, a time of rest from work and restoration, a time to worship God on a day set aside and different from the rest of the week. But quickly that gift turned into Law, and all sorts of rules grew up about what was work and what wasn't, what was permissible to do on the Sabbath and what was not. Keeping the Sabbath holy meant reserving that day for worship of God, and, as we all know, people have various ideas about what constituted worship and, therefore, exactly what kept the Sabbath holy – then and now.

Jesus and his disciples were constantly getting into trouble with the religious authorities for not properly observing the Sabbath. The issue comes up four times in the Gospel of St. Luke, and three of these controversies involve healing on the Sabbath.

In today's Gospel, Jesus was teaching in one of the synagogues on the Sabbath. He was doing what rabbis did. He operated within a tradition. To be in a synagogue on the Sabbath was an expression of his Jewish faith just as being in church on a Sunday is an expression of our Christian faith.

During the service Jesus noticed a woman who was so crippled that she was completely bent over. She had been suffering this way for 18 years. Try to imagine that. I hadn’t realised at first reading that the woman didn’t approach Jesus, nor ask for anything. She didn't have to. The minute Jesus saw her, he called her over and said, Woman, you are set free from your ailment, and he laid his hands on her.

To understand the implications of this better, it’s a help to be reminded that in the religious tradition of Jesus’ day, any form of illness was perceived to be a punishment for sin, either her own or those of her parents, so little compassion would have been shown throughout her life to a woman who was seen in some way to have deserved her suffering.

With that in mind, what Jesus did for the woman was more than just a healing: he set her free from the torture and imprisonment of her own body certainly but he also gave her a new life, free from pain, free from shame, free from isolation and free from the superior judgement of her peers. Jesus restored to the woman her dignity, her sense of self-worth, her place in the community, and her very identity. No longer simply a cripple, she was, as Jesus called her, a proud daughter of Abraham, an heir of God's promise. Jesus reached out to this outcast, this woman whose everyday life was an unequal struggle, touched her, and gave her the wholeness, health, and peace that God always intended people to have. And she didn't have to do anything. What Jesus did for the woman was a gift of pure grace.

When Jesus touched the woman, she stood up straight and tall for the first time in 18 years and she began to praise God. She knew the source of her healing and there on the Sabbath, in the synagogue she praised God for this unexpected, wonderful, unbelievable gift of life. We look back on such events in the gospels and struggle, I guess, to see anything other than an appropriate act of compassion.

Not everyone, however, felt the same way. The elders of the synagogue couldn’t rejoice in this mighty act or thank God for it. They could only see that Jesus had worked on the Sabbath and therefore broken a key law of Judaism. Rather than confront Jesus directly, however, the Leader of the synagogue criticized the congregation and the waiting crowd and told them to go away: There are six days on which work ought to be done, he says; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day.

But Jesus was not willing to let the issue rest. He accused the ruler of hypocrisy because it was permissible for someone to untie an animal on the Sabbath to give it some water: relieving the thirst of an animal so that it could continue to live was not a violation of the Sabbath so why should relieving the suffering of a woman who has been crippled for 18 years so that she can live, be any different? Was she of less worth than an animal? The ruler's inconsistency and his lack of understanding of God's will are revealed to all. St. Luke reports, the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that Jesus was doing.

As we know, Jesus ushered in a new religious order but he never rejected Judaism, including the religious law, but Jesus embodied an attitude of innovation and development. He worked within a tradition, but he was not enslaved by it. He was free from it, though he respected it.

He represents how tradition is different from traditionalism. Perhaps we can see it this way:  tradition is the living faith of the dead; traditionalism is the dead faith of the living. Jesus bears witness to tradition by being innovative in ways that attempt to preserve the life-giving character of the tradition. This woman’s presence challenged the normal protocol, and what Jesus reveals to those there and to those who would subsequently hear of the event, is that a person takes priority over accepted practice.

On that Sabbath day, Jesus was trying to re-orientate the essence of his religion by giving it a heart, a heart for people. Jesus tried to restore the tradition to be freeing and joyous once again, not restrictive and hide-bound.

In fact, on one level, this story is not really about healing: it is about the unexpected disruption of business as usual, plans as usual, life as usual. The status quo is comfortable and familiar, but it can be stagnant, as this story reveals. So, what’s the learning point for us? How willing and ready are we for divine disruption in our lives? There is no doubt that God improvises and innovates and moves in mysterious and surprising ways, if we are open to acknowledging it. The whole passage we’ve looked at this morning is really about the need for transformation. Not only are we in need of it personally, we are in need of it socially. Our society stands in need of transformation but when religion speaks out in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion, its message is compromised.

Jesus' objective was to call people to a new vision of the way things ought to be with themselves and with the world. He called it the Kingdom of God and he said it is "at hand," "within you," "in your midst." The only thing standing between us and its final arrival is our need for transformation. It's happening all the time, and it has also happened that the circulation of genuinely compassionate love has changed not just individual lives but whole societies, but that transformation doesn’t generally come by dramatic revolution but by the small, daily acts and expressions of ordinary people as well as churches who do what they can and say what they can, to people, to newspapers, to elected officials, to transform our country into being the instrument of the love of God that God wills it to be. And we will do this in partnership with God, remembering, of course, which of us is the junior partner.

But we see that not everyone can handle spiritual improvisation and innovation or disruption. Not everyone appreciates change. This disruption of the Spirit may disturb some, but it will liberate others by breaking us out of our confining norms, crossing boundaries to help someone in need even if the social or religious standards dictate otherwise. Such disruption can be like the gift of the Spirit at Pentecost. It restores joy and newness and freedom, because it reveals the Kingdom of God in new ways.

Jesus ushers in the possibility of being, to use the words of C.S. Lewis, “surprised by joy.” He does so by following the spirit of the law and not necessarily the letter of the law and it is a freeing experience. And when we are freed ourselves, may we recognize the call to free others who are bound by systems and structures and religious philosophies and laws and ideologies and economies and stereotypes, so that they might be restored to full human dignity and experience the joy of God.

Jesus means freedom: freedom, not only from sin and guilt, but from rules, regulations and rituals. These rules, regulations and rituals are believed to originate in the Bible but are often cultural impositions. Jesus means freedom from these particular religious rules, regulations and rituals as we see in today’s Gospel and one thing the gospels make consistently clear is that Jesus had a profound influence on all kinds of people who encountered him and they were never the same again. We have encountered Jesus so let’s be open to the movement of the Spirit to see whether we can be part of such a revolution in the lives of individuals and wider society and if that involved ditching outdated religious rules and customs, so be it.

Amen

Sunday Sermon: Luke 12.32-40 Jesus is coming back - look busy!

 

Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit; be like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet, so that they may open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks. Blessed are those slaves whom the master finds alert when he comes; truly I tell you, he will fasten his belt and have them sit down to eat, and he will come and serve them. If he comes during the middle of the night, or near dawn, and finds them so, blessed are those slaves. “But know this: if the owner of the house had known at what hour the thief was coming, he would not have let his house be broken into. You also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour.” Peter said, “Lord, are you telling this parable for us or for everyone?” And the Lord said, “Who then is the faithful and prudent manager whom his master will put in charge of his slaves, to give them their allowance of food at the proper time? Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions. But if that slave says to himself, ‘My master is delayed in coming,’ and if he begins to beat the other slaves, men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk, the master of that slave will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour that he does not know, and will cut him in pieces, and put him with the unfaithful. That slave, who knew what his master wanted, but did not prepare himself or do what was wanted, will receive a severe beating. But the one who did not know and did what deserved a beating will receive a light beating. From everyone to whom much has been given, much will be required; and from the one to whom much has been entrusted, even more will be demanded.

 

Sunday evenings in our house in days gone by: The Vicar of Dibley. I could never really take her seriously as a person of faith but I nevertheless enjoyed the programme, if only for the deconstruction of the joke at the end with Alice, the verger, misunderstanding the point in epic style.

Did you ever notice the poster above Geraldine’s desk?

Jesus is coming back – look busy.

For those who believe in Jesus, this is a day they can look forward to with joy and expectation. It is the day when everything we have believed in without seeing, will become visible and be fulfilled.

But many people don’t think of the second coming of Jesus as something joyful. I have heard many Christians talk of how they lived in fear of the second coming: they lived a life of constant anxiety because they didn’t know whether they were ready to meet Jesus when he came again.

Unfortunately, many Christians have fed this fear by preaching about the second coming in a scary way. They seem to believe that they can threaten people into becoming Christians if they remind them that Jesus will come again to judge them.

But that’s not at all how the Bible tells it. Neither Jesus nor the apostles tried to scare people into faith by threatening them with Jesus’ second coming and judgement. When they invited someone to receive Jesus, they did it by describing salvation in Jesus and the love that he has shown us in that he, who was God, became a human being like you and me so that we could identify with him and know him and through him know God.

When Jesus talks about his second coming, it’s to encourage those who already believe in him. It’s to tell them that all the promises that he's given them will one day be fulfilled in a visible way.

Today’s Gospel contains a beautiful image to help us understand what is going to happen when Jesus comes again: It will be good for those servants whose master finds them watching when he comes. Truly I tell you, he will dress himself to serve, will have them recline at the table and will come and wait on them.

 Just think about that for a moment.

This just isn’t the way things work. It should be the servants who would have to wait on the master, but when Jesus comes again, God’s own son will put his apron on and be the servant of those who have been expecting him.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve never before thought about it in those terms.

So, while this passage from Luke is introducing Jesus’ encouragement to be watchful, always ready for the Son of Man’s unpredictable return, these verses are also the conclusion of Jesus’ well - known words about being free from worry that began a few pages earlier: Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or your body, what you will wear. Remember those words - how he points to the ravens, and the lilies and the grass - and says, “If all of these are under God’s providential care, so are you. Stop striving; cease your vain, anxious seeking. Seek God’s Kingdom instead, and the rest will come.” And then he concludes with the beginning verses from today: Don’t be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the Kingdom. Sell your possessions and give alms. 

Seek God’s Kingdom, as most translations put it. Not: build, grow or advance God’s Kingdom: these are the terms we use to describe our own initiatives to usher in God’s Kingdom but those aren’t the Bible’s words. We are invited to seek the Kingdom, and receive it. It’s the Father’s good pleasure to give the Kingdom, a Kingdom no amount of money can build, hence all the advice about wealth, greed and hoarding we’ve had in previous weeks. God himself is the great philanthropist, here. God is the giver. We seek and receive. 

Jesus tells us what makes the Father happy: giving the Kingdom. And then he invites giving as a way to characterize our own lives, as if rejecting possessions and money is the natural way of life for a people who worship a God who, in giving us Jesus and the Spirit, has given us everything we need.  

As a little imitation of God, our giving is an end in itself. 

Nevertheless, Jesus tells his disciples about his second coming because he wants them to be ready. He tells them several parables where he explains that it may take a while before he comes again. It’s worth remembering, too, that in New Testament times there were some people who made fun of Christians because they were walking around waiting for Jesus to return. The apostle Peter knew all about this.

They will say, Where is this ‘coming’ he promised? Ever since our ancestors died, everything goes on as it has since the beginning of creation. (2 Pet 3:4)

In response to the question of the delay of Jesus’ second coming, Peter continues: But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but for everyone to come to repentance. But the day of the Lord will come like a thief. The heavens will disappear with a roar; the elements will be destroyed by fire, and the earth and everything done in it will be laid bare. (2 Pet 3:8-10)

Well, the language of the end times may seem a little overblown for modern tastes but that Jesus’ second coming may be delayed is something he wants us to be prepared for. But he also wants us to be ready to receive him when he comes. He also predicts that there will be some people who are not ready.

So, what does it mean to be ready?

First of all, one thing must be clear, and that is what being ready doesn’t mean. To be ready doesn’t mean to know when Jesus is coming. Jesus makes it crystal clear that no one knows when he'll come again. His second coming will be as equally surprising as his first coming. You also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him. (Luke 12:39-40)

Jesus himself did not even know when he would come again. But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.  (Matt 24:36) Nevertheless, many people appear to believe that to be ready means to know when Jesus is coming, so they make themselves busy trying to interpret the signs of the times, usually using that most misunderstood piece of scripture, the book of Revelation, attempting to work out the countdown before Jesus’ return, almost like an Advent calendar for the second coming. And again, it appears that the purpose is to scare people: we have now progressed this far according to the schedule of the end times and now we are getting closer and closer, so now we have to be looking out.

No we don’t. No one knows but God.

Have you ever heard of Harold Camping? He was an American, famous for issuing multiple failed predictions of dates for the End Times, which temporarily gained him a global following - and millions of dollars of donations.

He predicted that Jesus would return to Earth on May 21, 2011 when the saved would be taken up to heaven. There would then follow five months of fire, brimstone and plagues on Earth, with millions of people dying each day, until on October 21, 2011 the final destruction of the world would happen. You have to admire his chutzpah: He had previously predicted that Judgment Day would occur on September 6, 1994.

But people believed him.

So, what does it mean to be ready?

Well, in our Gospel passage for today Jesus explains his parable. The servant who is not ready, he says, is the one who says to himself: ‘My master is taking a long time in coming,’ and he then begins to beat the other servants, both men and women, and to eat and drink and get drunk.

In other words, the unfaithful servant is living his life as if his master would not return. He thinks he can abuse his power as much as he wants, because no one will hold him accountable. The master of that servant will come on a day when he does not expect him and at an hour he is not aware of. He will cut him to pieces and assign him a place with the unbelievers.  For those who are not ready, Jesus’ second coming will be an unpleasant surprise.

The servant that is ready, on the other hand, is the one who constantly does what his master entrusted him to do. The Lord answered, Who then is the faithful and wise manager, whom the master puts in charge of his servants to give them their food allowance at the proper time? It will be good for that servant whom the master finds doing so when he returns.

This faithful servant does not have to make any special preparation when the master comes. He is always ready. He doesn’t need to know the time of his master’s arrival, he's ready, anyway. That's how Jesus is encouraging us to live our lives and the good thing is we know what Jesus expects of us. We know what Jesus wants us to do. Earlier in Luke’s Gospel Jesus was asked the question, What must I do to inherit eternal life? In fact the answer was given by the same man who asked the question, Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind and love your neighbour as yourself.

Maybe that’s what the Vicar of Dibley’s poster means: Jesus is coming back – look busy.

 No. Be busy.

Jesus is coming again and this is what we need to be busy doing: loving the Lord our God with all we have and our neighbour as ourselves.

Amen.