by church news | Mar 25, 2017 | Sermons
This morning’s sermon could be about a marriage, or a pilgrimage, or a heartfelt cry to learn to live with difference, but really it is about baptism. Whenever there is water mentioned in John’s Gospel, you just know that he will get on to the subject of baptism – like last week, being born of water and the spirit – like the wedding at Cana – no need for daily acts of ritual cleansing as the baptised are free to celebrate with the best wine of heaven – and so this morning, as soon as Jesus starts to talk about living water – bubbling water, moving water – we know that baptism is on the cards.
But the set up is much more complex than that. For example, we know exactly where this encounter happens, and we could go and visit it tomorrow, if we wanted to. Jacob’s Well is now a fixed point on the tourist trail within the occupied West Bank, a few miles from the town of Nablus, so we could go there, sit on the well, and try to engage one of the local women in conversation, and see if we have the same results as Jesus. Or we might not be able to, because as soon as we mention the West Bank, we know that this is disputed territory, and that sometimes tourists are not allowed in. 2,000 years after this encounter, little has changed in this place – Jesus was as unwelcome in the town of Sychar in his day as we might be if we rolled up in a tourist coach today.
In Jesus’s time, this area was not under occupation, but was the subject of a dispute that dated back nearly 500 years, to the aftermath of the Jewish exile and their subsequent return. Sychar and its surrounding area had been annexed by the Assyrians as far back as 700BC, and they had brought people in to farm the land from other parts of their empire. The remaining Jews had intermarried with these gentiles, but had maintained a version of Jewish religious practice. When the main body of Jewish exiles returned from Babylon, starting in 538BC, there was a major conflict about the status of those who had married gentiles, which resulted in Samaria becoming a separate land, with a separate culture, and a separate temple as the centre of their – ostensibly – Jewish worship.
500 years of suspicion and hatred had not abated when Jesus sat down at Jacob’s Well – deep within Samaritan territory but a landmark dear to all Jewish hearts, as the place where tradition taught that their ancestor Jacob had met his wives. Jacob’s Well also happens to be at the foot of Mt Gerizim, which is where the Samaritans had built their temple – so the woman’s attempt to redirect the conversation, once Jesus gets onto the touchy subject of her private life, is not totally without relevance.
So, you get the picture: Jesus, a foreigner, sits down at a place claimed by two hostile nations as their own, and talks to a woman with a dodgy marital history about knowing God in a new way. Not the most obvious of exchanges, but this is what we have. Why did he do it? Could he not have waited for his disciples to come back with the bucket? It is what any other Jew would have done. But no, the Lord of the universe, the creator of all, was not going to turn down an opportunity to talk about the love of God for humanity, especially if the person he was going to talk to was both a social outcast – why else was she at the well at midday, other than to avoid all the other people in town – and on the wrong side of the religious and cultural divide.
Now we could stop there, and learn all sorts of lessons about the love of God and the way we should live as his people – about the inclusive nature of the love of God, about the radical engagement that Jesus had with everyone and anyone, about not shying away from difficult topics, about confidence in our faith in the face of age-old differences and mounting indifference – but Jesus is not going to any of those places. Jesus is treating this woman as someone who needs the living water of the love of God deep within her, to transform her life and the lives of others around her, so that all that has been put up as a barrier before can be left behind in the joy of the living presence of God. Whichever way the conversation twists, it comes back again and again to how we encounter the living God – and here he is, in flesh and blood, asking her for a drink.
We have gathered today to encounter the living God. Whether we come because we want to, because we always do, because our parents have dragged us here, because we have been invited to attend the baptism or whether we have simply walked in off the street, we are here to meet the living God. [This young man is going to meet the living God in water, in oil, in word and in light.] How well we get through to him, how well he communicates with us, is totally dependent on how much we allow him to talk to us, to fill us with his living water. We can put up all sorts of barriers, use all sorts of excuses, but God is here, with us, in us, present in bread and wine, in music and song, in word and deed, in peace shared and in prayer offered. God is here in the space between our words and thoughts, in the silence and in the noise, in the stillness and the movement – and all he wants of us is to acknowledge him, to love him in return for his amazing love for us, to want to let that living water rip through our lives and refresh us every day.
And in refreshing us, that living water will transform us from people who see barriers to people who see opportunities, from people who look only to the past to those who see God at work in the past, in the present and the future. And in refreshing us, we will be transformed into God’s people who see difference as a reflection of God, and so embrace it. We will be transformed into people who deliberately cross boundaries to take Christ’s love to those whom society says we shouldn’t even talk to.
This is Lent in all its glory – freedom to go beyond ourselves and society’s self-imposed limits to explore areas where fear and tradition have held us back. Come to a Lent Lecture, and discover that all those people who go to other churches here in Kew are exactly the same as us, have the same reactions and same doubts, same hope and same expectations – for they too are filled with the living water of God. Use the time and money freed up by whatever you have given up to make a difference somewhere – to help local refugee families, to explore and document the wonderful world that God has put us in, to spend more time with those neighbours you have always felt you should talk to but somehow have never got past the time of day and the beauty of the weather. Go long – help us organise a cracking Big Get Together in memory of Jo Cox, killed by someone who could not cope with difference during the referendum campaign – just to say to the world that we are a people of welcome and inclusion and love.
And may that living water that God filled us with at our baptism well up in us today as we worship, tomorrow as we work, and forever, as we delight in the God who loves us cares for us day by day.
by church news | Mar 11, 2017 | Sermons
I have pondered long and hard about this sermon. I have read books, I have shared in long discussion about all the passages on Tuesday morning with our merry band of Bible studiers, and I am not happy with what we decided, nor with what my Boys Own Big Book of Lent tells me.
If you want, we can read all those passages today as typological. That is, Adam & Eve are types of humanity, the snake is a type of the Evil One, and Christ is the new Adam, the new Moses, and his people are the new Israel. How do we know this? Because my Boys Own Big Book of Lent says that all of Jesus’s answers to the temptations come from the book of Deuteronomy, which is, as you know, a recapitulation of the story of Israel from the Red Sea to the border of the Promised Land. They took 40 years to get through the wilderness, Jesus spent a symbolic 40 days in the wilderness, they succumbed to three temptations – food, water and the worship of a golden calf – Jesus resists all three temptations – refuses to interfere with creation for his own physical needs, refuses to go for the big public act to encourage belief in his Messiahship (unlike Moses, who struck the rock to get water out, when God had told him to speak to it), and refuses to bow down and worship the tempter. Just before these temptations, Jesus had been baptised – viz Israel crossing the Red Sea in safety, from slavery to freedom, as we say in our baptism prayer over the water) – and afterwards Jesus calls his first disciples. There we are, a nice knock-down argument, neat, convincing, complete.
But the answer to that is, “So what?” That unpacking of the story and piecing it back together again only tells us that Jesus was the Messiah, and that the Church is the new Israel. All that temptation stuff is merely to re-assure us that Jesus could triumph over the issues on which the People of Israel failed – but that doesn’t do anything for us, weak, wandering, timid human beings that we are.
So we turn to another page of the Boys Own Big Book of Lent, and we read a neat, three point explanation which will sort us out good and proper. These three temptations are about our spiritual life, that is, the temptation not to be spiritual, but to do things for ourselves, the temptation to be super-spiritual – to overdo our spiritual abilities and boundaries, and the temptation to become a spiritual megalomaniac.
Well I’m sorry, I may accept the first one, but the other two are unrecognisable, even in an O so humble parish priest as my poor, struggling self. Those three pat answers are just that, easy preaching, sermon done and dusted in minutes.
No, I want something more than that out of this story of the temptation of Christ. I want something more than a folk tale to reinforce the social hierarchy, by blaming human failings on the first woman. I want something that might just be helpful in today’s complex and interconnected world, and I want that to be as hard as going 40 days without food – which, by the way, can be life-threatening and certainly life-altering, so don’t do it.
No, I want an acknowledgement that temptation is real, it is physical, it is spiritual, it is deep within our psyche and our soul, and that this is a hard world in which to try to sort it out. And the temptations are different today to those which Christ underwent. The temptation to go with the flow, not to rock the boat, is a real one, but leaves injustice unchallenged and unjust structures intact. The temptation to think small, to think of a narrow world around ourselves which is to be protected at all costs, is a real one in a global world, where our narrow-mindedness can have a negative impact on peoples’ lives around the world. And the biggest temptation of them all is the temptation not to think, not to engage our brains and our energies in analysis, debate, struggling through all sides of an issue until a reasonable and beneficial answer is found. Where are those temptations faced in the wilderness?
They are, of course, all there. Narrow, selfish thinking is the stones into bread temptation, not thinking at all is leaping off the pinnacle of the Temple, and going with the flow is bowing down and worshipping the tempter. We may live in a complex and interconnected world, but our basic humanity is unchanging, merely our context.
What we have to get through to is the effort that Christ had to put in to resist these three temptations. The story reads as if he had the quotations from Deuteronomy at his fingertips, ready to be used as soon as an appropriate temptation came his way. That is not human, that is unrealistic. No. Christ struggled to come up with those answers, as he craved food, as he looked forward to his ministry across the Jewish nation, and as he prepared himself to bring in God’s kingdom of love and mercy. And so we too have to be prepared to struggle, to work hard at countering lazy thinking, at piercing to the heart of an argument or a policy, or an attitude, to be able to put it properly within the context of God’s standards of love and justice and then live appropriately as the children of God – if it is wrong, we fight against it. If it is right, we uphold it gladly and say so publicly.
Some matters are relatively straightforward. The government’s decision to abandon the Dubs amendment on bringing migrant children to the UK is quite simple wrong on any count, under any analysis. False news, lies, black propaganda – call them what you like – are wrong, as we are a holy people who live and speak the truth. The current squeeze on social care is much more complex, and there are many options to be taken into consideration, not least everybody paying a bit more tax to make it happen properly.
But this is not just about politics. This is about personal relationships, the workplace/homelife balance, our interdependence with creation, our wellbeing as individuals, as families and as a community. Lazy thinking, going with the flow, does not improve a deteriorating situation. Thinking small about a big problem does not advance a wider solution. Opting out of debate does not ameliorate that debate, it merely closes it down without resolution. Lent can be a time to get to grips with things, to knuckle down and come to a decision, and to have the boldness to follow it through.
Christ in the wilderness puts in the hard thinking, does the analysis, works through the situation to find the mind of God – and so Scripture comes to his aid as he explains his decisions. May we equally, in our Lenten discipline and in our Lenten spiritual journey of prayer and worship, engage fully with all that life and reality throws at us, work through it, and find the mind of God. And then God’s Holy Spirit will enable us to put into practice everything that she has taught us.
by church news | Mar 5, 2017 | Sermons
How are your Lenten preparations going? Tuesday is Pancake Day – have you bought your supplies yet? And Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, as miserable a day as the Church has yet to invent, apart, perhaps, from the end of the Maundy Thursday service, as betrayal sets in train the inevitable series of events that culminates in crucifixion. It is not exactly a week to look forward to, is it?! What other emotions are going through our minds in these last three days of plenty? What shall we give up for Lent? How feasible is that, given our work/family/health situation? Six weeks of grim-ness is an awfully long time – how can I legitimately cheer myself up during this rigorous season? Well, the days are getting longer, we are moving from snowdrops to daffodils and tulips, the spring migration is under way and it ought to be getting a little warmer. New life is bursting out all around us, and we are wrapped up in a little cocoon of self-imposed restrictions – but that is the point! As new life gathers around us, so new life springs up in the Church, a new life born of suffering and death, yes, but a new life of resurrection, never to die again.
And we are given a glimpse of that new life, in all its glory, in the story of the transfiguration. The true nature of Christ, unshackled by the limitations of a human body, is revealed to the disciples on the mountain-top and they are afraid, as well they might be. Jesus’s words to them as they cower on the ground, “get up and do not be afraid” are pretty similar to words that he will speak to them after the resurrection – fear is the dominant emotion in that first Easter week, followed rapidly by joy. So today, on the eve of Lent, we are given that glimpse of Christ in glory, the glory towards which we shall all be travelling as we journey through the depredations and trials of these upcoming 40 days of self-denial and hard discipleship.
But where is that glimpse given? On top of a mountain, in cloud and echoing voice – just where Moses had been when he collected the 10 Commandments but here the physical word of God is the man Jesus, not two carved blocks of stone. This mountain-top meeting with God is just that – in God’s very presence, and then these disciples will go back down the mountain in the presence of the self-same man they have seen in glory. How can they look at Jesus again, having seen him transfigured like this? How can they see Jesus, their friend and teacher, touching lepers, healing the sick, challenging the Pharisees, without seeing him in glory, on top of the mountain? He has surely changed, completely, for them, for ever.
And yet this Jesus whom they have seen transfigured they can abandon in the Garden of Gethsemane, they can deny in the High Priest’s house, they can hide from as he hangs on a Roman cross, they can disbelieve as he comes to them on that first Easter Sunday. Our very humanity is displayed in them, our weak, fragile humanity, as distinct from the glorious humanity and divinity as seen in Jesus transfigured before them. Even the sight of God in glory is not sufficient to take them through testing and dangerous times – how can we hope to have a good Lent, a purposeful Lent, a Lent that works, for we only have their report of the transfiguration, not the experience.
Of course we can’t, but we do have one advantage over the disciples, in that we have received the Holy Spirit to live in our hearts and direct our ways, and there are more of us than the 12 disciples, so mutual support and creative ways of helping each other are much more numerous than in their time. Also, we come in the wake of 20 centuries of Christian practice, with examples a-plenty and enough reference material to fill several very large cathedrals – we are not short of ideas and help in these matters.
So, we have two things to get on with: three days of freedom to worship and to live in the glory of God, and three days to plan for a good Lent, informed by those three days of glory. Just because it is Lent does not take away the glory. Just because it is Lent, we do not lose our freedom to worship and to live in the light of Christ. We are merely adjusting our lives to bring them closer into line with Christ’s wilderness experience, as we long for the glories of Easter.
Our Lenten observation is a personal thing, special to us and not necessarily for sharing with others, but there are one or two pointers that can be given.
Firstly, Churches Together in Kew have organised a series of Lectures at 8pm on the Monday evenings of Lent, to look at how charities respond to crises, the motivations behind their establishment and the work that they do to maintain those goals. The series is launched on Tuesday at 8pm at the Barn, with Prayers and Pancakes – an opportunity to worship together and to start thinking together.
Secondly, each Lent we are called by our Bishop to support one of his Lenten causes, and our linked diocese of Matabeleland is always top of his list. Matabeleland is the poorest of the provinces of Zimbabwe, it has been devastated the most by farm clearances and the collapse of the Zimbabwean economy – unemployment runs currently at 80% in the country. The churches do their best to witness to Christ in the daily struggle for a decent living, but it is our solemn Lenten duty to support their work practically – next Sunday, donation envelopes will be available for a generous offering of ourselves to help our linked brothers and sisters in Christ in Bulawayo and its surrounding region.
Thirdly, Ash Wednesday, which is this week, will be celebrated at the Barn at 8pm and that service, which is for everybody, will also be the starting point for the group of people from the parish who are preparing for confirmation. It would be a great day to join this small group, to study together before meeting the Bishop at Christchurch East Sheen on 18th June. If you or someone you know would like to get confirmed, just turn up on Wednesday, (but it would be nice to know beforehand).
Fourthly, of the making of books about prayer and the Bible for Lenten study there shall be no end – we still have time to get one – go online when you get home and will be delivered to you before you can say “Goodness me, it’s Lent again.”
May we be blessed together and individually this coming Lent, as we bask in the glory of Christ revealed on the mountain-top, and walk in his light and the strength of his Holy Spirit. May our Lent be productive, joyous and a cause of spiritual growth, that will bring glory to God and a more vigorous discipleship, in our prayer, our study and our life together.
by church news | Feb 1, 2017 | Front Page
This coming Sunday, 5th February, we celebrate Candlemas, with Christingles, everyone welcome!!
by church news | Feb 1, 2017 | Sermons
In every story there is a central hub, a pivot around which everything turns. In today’s Gospel reading, which part is that pivot? Is it the setting – a wedding with an embarrassing lack of wine? Is it the relationship between Jesus and his mother? Is it the miracle of the water turned into wine? No, it is that reference, seemingly in passing, to the purpose of these six stone jars – Jewish rites of purification. It is not any old jug of water that Jesus turns into wine, it is a particular stock, whose purpose has been completely transformed.
We need to get to a level of understanding of why this is so central to Jesus’s ministry, and why it is still so important for us today.
Ritual cleanliness was at the centre of Jewish life. The rules surrounding it were complex, and in a small place like Cana, a two-horse town to the west of Lake Galilee, 180 gallons of water were needed to keep everyone in the village ritually clean. This water was not for washing your hands after they had got a bit muddy while working in the field, or sticky while cooking – there was different water for that. This water was for the rite of purification in the morning, after a night’s sleep, this water was for the rite of purification, with prayers, before going outside, on coming indoors, on greeting relatives and friends, on welcoming guests to the house. This water kept the people of Cana ritually clean through all the different seasons of the year, through all the different phases of the day and the night, and it was extremely burdensome. Everything that everybody did could involve ritual washing with prayer, and generally it did, and failure to wash in this way could lead to exclusion from social activities, even exclusion from village life, and eventually exclusion from the worshipping life of the nation.
These six stone jars, massive in their appearance, centrally placed within the village, dominated people’s lives and everyday activities – and it is their content that Jesus transforms into wine – wine of the very best quality, to celebrate a wedding. A wedding? Which wedding? The wedding that Jesus and his disciples were attending? Or another? The wedding of heaven and earth, the spiritual union which is Christ with his church – this is wine we are talking about, the wine of heaven, the wine of Christ’s blood, the sacred outpouring of God to redeem and to bind to himself all of humanity. This is no ordinary wedding, where 180 gallons of the best vintage are suddenly made available to the guests. No, this is a turning point in the life of the world, when water for ritual cleanliness is replaced with the wine of celebration, the wine of remembrance, the new wine of the Kingdom of God.
No more ritual washing is required, when Christ is present. No more ritual washing is needed in our everyday lives, just a consciousness of the presence of God to enfold, to redeem, to save. Instead, we have the wine of joy, the wine of new life, the wine that only God can give as he lifts us out of ritual obedience into a new life of freedom and delight.
Some water remains, some ritual water, but that is the water of baptism, in which Christ joins us to himself and in which we rejoice. That water will remain precious, ritualistic, holy, for in it God washes us clean once and only once, and then the job is done for the whole of our lives. In that water, God puts his holy life inside ours, making us holy for all eternity. In that water, we die with Christ, so that we may live Christ’s risen life in the world. That’s plenty of ritual water, all the ritual water we need – the rest is miraculously transformed into joy in the presence of God, joy in the sharing of bread and wine, joy in the sharing of fellowship with our brothers and sisters in Christ, here, and all over Kew, and around the world.
So no, the story of the wedding at Cana is not about marriage, but about burdens of ritual being lifted and replaced with the wine of delight. The bishops may well have messed up, once again, on the inclusivity of modern marriage, but we here will continue to delight in God’s all-encompassing, all-welcoming joy, for there is room for everybody, for every expression of the multiplicity of God-created humanity, and we here will rejoice together in that new wine.
