Sermons
Sermon preached by Mark Ashworth at Evensong on 29 August 2010
By the Fountains, near Peace (John 3:22-36)
John was baptising at Aenon near Salim where the water was abundant. We no longer quite know where the water was so abundant, but we do know that Aenon means fountains – which explains why the water was abundant, and Salim, of course, means peace. So John was baptising at the Fountains near Peace. There can be no better-sounding place to be baptised. But there was – and is – a better baptism, and that is the baptism brought by Christ – the baptism both by water and the Holy Spirit.
But John’s followers were unhappy that Jesus had set up in seeming competition with John. We can still sense the rivalry and resentment. This Jesus-come-lately was attracting all the crowds and seemed to be getting all the glory.
But John was clear. No one can receive anything except what has been given from heaven. Any worthwhile ability, any worthwhile success, any worthwhile following is a gift from God and not anything which we can boast about as our own. Exultation is by invitation, as Edd reminded us this morning. And John reminded his followers that he had told them that he was not the Messiah, rather that he had been sent on ahead of the Messiah.
John then draws an analogy with the friend of bridegroom – or the best man as we now know him. This echoes other similar analogies in the Bible. In the Old Testament, God is often called the husband or the betrothed of his chosen people Israel[1]. Elsewhere in the New Testament Jesus likens himself to the bridegroom of his disciples and of the Jewish people. There seems little doubt that Jesus used this analogy to describe his relationship with his followers. And this explains why women called to religious life are known as brides of Christ. And it is also for this reason that the Church itself is called Christ’s bride.
But back to the bridegroom’s friend – or the best man. The best man’s role is to support the bridegroom, and to introduce the bridegroom to the guests. The ceremony and the celebrations are about the bride and the groom – the bridegroom’s friend plays a supporting role, and this bridegroom knew his place. But the role is not one of subservience – it is one of delight and joy – the bridegroom’s friend rejoices greatly at hearing his friend’s voice. So much so that John’s joy had been fulfilled – his joy at the completion of a task worth doing. The joy at the completion of a task worth more than any other.
St John the Evangelist then completes the third chapter of his Gospel with a summary of all that has preceded it: the voice of John in the wilderness, the first miracle at the wedding in Cana, Jesus’ encounter with the incredulous Nicodemus, and Jesus’ proclamation of just how much God so loved the world. St John summarises all this, and more, in this last sentence: Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life.
What is the essence of this belief? It is more than the belief of a best-man in the virtues and friendship of the groom. It is more – dare I say it – than all the words of all the creeds. It is, I venture, nothing less than placing as much personal trust as we possibly can in Jesus, and committing our life to placing ever greater trust in Him.
We may never grow to trust completely. Most of us will ever retain traces of that fear and distrust which stop us fully letting go and letting God. But the holy paradox is that this trusting is not hard. It is not like mastering some difficult physical or mental skill. Each single step is serenely, joyously easy. Because we were made to trust. That is what God wants. That is why Jesus came.[2] Can’t we just feel him willing us now?
And by placing our trust in Jesus we place our trust in God. That for me is what Jesus meant by saying that no one comes to the Father except through Him. Jesus is not a gate-keeper, jealously protecting entry into a relationship, like some divine bouncer outside an exclusive religious club. Jesus is the gateway itself into that relationship. There are other ways of perceiving God, and of understanding God, just as there are other religions, but we believe that there is no other way of having quite the same personal relationship with God. St John tells us just before the last sentence of Chapter 3 that the Father loves the Son – and he uses a new word for love, rarely, if ever, previously used in the bible, and the word connotes a love which is actively concerned with and caring for the one who is loved.
God, in Jesus, has shown us this self-giving love, and as his beloved we in our turn have only to return this love. Archbishop William Temple, in his great commentary on St John’s Gospel concluded that this giving of ourselves does not earn eternal life; rather it is eternal life. This response, reflecting back to God the love which he has shown to us in Christ, is for us now a glimpse, or a foretaste, of the essence of eternal life. Of course, it is only partial, it is distracted and distorted by the distractions and distortions of this world. But it is the essence of the world and of the life to come.
Hilary, in a recent sermon, mentioned Brother Lawrence. Nicolas Herma, as he was originally known, lived in Lorraine and had been a footman and a soldier. He was admitted as a Lay Brother to the Carmellites in Paris in 1666, where he was given the name Brother Lawrence. Thenceforth he committed as much of his whole life as he could to Christ, and he practiced what he called living in the presence of God – being constantly aware of the presence and the love of God in all that he did, rather than just in his formal devotions.
I wanted to find out more about this Brother Lawrence and bought a book which collects together records of his conversations and his letters. His last letter, to a friend, contains these words, which I think demonstrate what St John means by believing in Christ:
Let us occupy ourselves entirely in knowing God. The more we know Him, the more we will desire to know Him… He is within us; we don’t need to seek Him elsewhere. We have only ourselves to blame if we turn from God, occupying ourselves instead with the trifles of life…Once and for all, let us begin to be His entirely. Let us banish from our heart and soul all that does not reflect Jesus. Let us ask Him for the grace to do this, so that He alone might rule in our hearts.
Brother Lawrence then concluded:
I must confide in you, my dear friend, that I hope, in His grace, that I will see Him in a few days. Let us pray to Him for one another.
The Cardinal who later collected together Brother Lawrence’s letters added these few words with which the little book ends: “Brother Lawrence passed from this life into the next just a few days later, on February 12, 1691, to dwell fully in the presence of his God.”
May we in turn, and all those whom we love, come to dwell fully in the presence of our God.
Mark Ashworth
29 August 2010
[1] Exodus 34:15; Psalm 73:27; Hosea 2:10 and Isaiah 54:5
[2] “The calm and joy uprising in our soul, which is the first-fruit of our recompense and of heaven begun” – as the Angel told Gerontius [John Henry Newman]
Sermon preached by Hilary Kay at Parish Eucharist with Baptism on 18 July 2010
Martha and Mary - Luke 10:38-42
The Gospel that we have just heard is a familiar one and follows on from last week’s story of the Good Samaritan. Martha and Mary were sisters who lived with their brother Lazarus in Bethany - a village not far from Jerusalem. It was Lazarus whom Jesus raised from the dead later on. They were all friends of Jesus and their home became a bolthole for him when He needed a break from the crowds.
It is obvious that the two sisters were very different - a fact common in many families. Martha appears to be the older and she felt responsible for providing food for her guests. She must have been very house-proud and conscious of the cleanliness of her home, and, as was the custom in the east, hospitality was extremely important to her. There was no possibility of ordering a “take-away” or popping out to Tesco’s to buy a ready-made pizza. With no freezers or fridges let alone a micro-wave, and only a woodstove to cook on, the meal would have had to be made from scratch. It would probably have consisted of a chicken killed on the spot, vegetables grown in their own ground and fresh bread would have been baked.
As any cook knows, these things take time despite what you may see on “Ready, Steady, Cook”! In other words Martha needed some help. We are not told but it is quite likely that Jesus was not alone; there would have been several of His friends there as well. She may well have had 12 to feed.
“Mary,” Martha called, “come and give me a hand” No reply, she calls again, no response. It was rather like calling a teenager to lay the table. Where is Mary? Not glued to the television of course, but sitting at Jesus’ feet, a rapt expression on her face drinking in every word that Jesus said. “That’s not fair” Martha says to Jesus; “Tell Mary she has to come and help me.” But to Mary’s surprise Jesus says the opposite. “Don’t worry so much” He says, “the meal doesn’t matter. It is more important that Mary has chosen to listen to what I have to say.” In other words she had her priorities right.
This is something that we need to do as well. We also must get our priorities right. All those involved in parenting, for example, know the demands that children put upon us, and babies in particular. A crying baby won’t be denied and this is something that Edd and Charlotte will soon find out. It is easy to get so bogged down with providing meals and clean clothes that we tend to cut short the quality time that we spend with our children. What is the most important way to spend our time?
I was as guilty as the rest in this matter. “They are little for such a short time”, my husband would say and how right he was. In the scheme of things the years of their babyhood until their independence are very short and need to be treasured. Many teenage problems might be reduced if we worried less about providing fresh clothes or cleaning the car.
It is the same with God; we need to remember to spend time with Him just as Mary did. As we feed the baby or do the washing-up, it is possible to talk to God, and if you couldn’t before, you soon learn to multi-task the other jobs. Those of us who have children know much an effort it takes to bring our children to church - almost the same as getting them off to school in the morning. But it is important to bring them to God.
That is where you parents are doing what is important. Today you have brought your children to God: for Baptism and to be made members of His Church - the Christian Church to which we all belong whether Anglican, Free Church, Roman Catholic or Orthodox.
We are all God’s children but like any other family - Martha and Mary included, - we have our quarrels. Despite our differences God loves us all, in return we must love Him, try to make time for Him giving thanks for all the many gifts He gives us, particularly our children.
Hilary Kay
18 July 2010
Sermon preached by Mark Ashworth at Evensong on 11 July 2010
Ritual - Mark 7:1-23
This evening’s reading from St Mark’s gospel is not easy. Indeed we might contrast it with the “comfortable” words of Jesus which we hear from the Book of Common Prayer at our early communion service. We might call these “uncomfortable” words, or at least awkward words.
The words seem to gather together various teachings of Jesus, with the general theme of purity and ritual. It appears unlikely that this is account of a single incident or address given by Jesus. The first controversy is over washing hands before eating. We hear that some Pharisees and accompanying scribes noticed that the disciples had not washed their hands before eating. Priests were required to wash their hands before offering a sacrifice to God. This ritual requirement was being gradually extended to all Jews. The motivation was to introduce a sense of holiness into everyday activity, and to extend the concept of priesthood from the priesthood of the few to the priesthood of all God’s people. It was a holy practice and not a hygiene requirement.
St Mark interrupts his account to explain that “all of the Jews” wash their hands thoroughly before eating, and he goes on to add that they wash their food before eating it, as well as washing their cups, pots and bronze kettles. He seems to be playing up the activity, almost giving the impression of a people with a collective obsessive compulsion. And the fact that he needs to pause to explain what “all the Jews” do makes it clear that he is writing for a gentile audience.
Mark goes back to the dispute between Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees. Why don’t the disciples live according to the tradition of their elders? Jesus answers with a quotation from Isaiah, but before he does this he calls his questioners hypocrites. The word comes from the Greek for “play actors”. The passage from Isaiah says that the people honour God with their lips but not with their hearts. The English Standard Version’s translation of the passage from Isaiah is worth hearing again – and then again – like almost every other part of Isaiah:
These people draw near with their mouths and honour me with their lips, while their hearts are far from me, and their worship of me is a human commandment taught by men. Therefore behold, I will again do wonderful things with this people, with wonder upon wonder; and the wisdom of their wise men shall perish, and the discernment of their discerning men shall be hidden.
After reciting this passage, Jesus concludes in his own words: You abandon the commandment of God and cling to human tradition.
What is Jesus angry about? What is the essence of the hypocrisy which so upsets him? I think that there are at least two causes for divine anger. First there is attitude, or judgment. Jesus knew how much his disciples had given up to follow him, and he knew that many would give their lives after he had given his. And here were these religious experts – the wise and the discerning – people who should have known better – outraged because they had not carried out a ritual washing of hands – in our terms because they had not imitated a priest in performing the lavabo before consecrating the bread and wine. The disciples had been judged not for who they were but for a ritual practice they did not observe.
I was in the midst of thinking about this evening’s Gospel when I attended a mid-week Eucharist at Bristol Cathedral – and in shuffled a man who did not smell quite as sweet as he might have done, and who would not sit as still as the rest of us. I was rather annoyed – my quiet time before the Eucharist was being disturbed in more ways than one. I even thought how unlucky I was to have chosen to sit where I had. And when the priest came in my neighbour did not stand when he might have done and did not join in making the sign of the cross when he could have done. And the celebration got underway. And as it, did my neighbour joined in the prayers, which he had by heart - and I have never heard a more heartfelt expression of every word. I was listening to someone talking to God and meaning every single word, in a way which could only be done if he knew that every word was heard. By the time I left that chapel I gave thanks amidst my tears for the privilege of sitting next to such a brother and a disciple – but I did not have a chance to say anything to him as he left almost before the service had finished. God had shown me what it is to judge by appearance and behaviour. That was one thing which distressed Jesus, and still does.
The other cause of distress was at ritual itself – where “human tradition” gets in the way of the commandments of God, to use Jesus’ words. The scribes and the Pharisees had made the mistake of not realising the true worth of the disciples by rushing to judgment over a ritual infraction. They had also made the related mistake of not realising anything about just whose presence they were in because they were hung up about the ritual error. And so it is if we fall into the trap of being concerned about the ritual rather than the spiritual – ritual only matters because it is part of the word spiritual. Ritual must never be the end – rather it should be the beginning – the door through which we pass in order to enter the presence of God. It is not the journey to the altar which matters, however glorious the attire and stately the progress and uplifting the introit and sweet the incense. This only matters – this is only valid – if it helps us to arrive at the altar ready – yearning – to meet our maker.
And it was to invite us here that Jesus did those wonderful things which Isaiah foresaw and to which Jesus referred. It was for our sake that he worked wonder upon wonder so that we might not be mislead by the wisdom of the worldly wise and the discernment of the deceptively discerning.
Jesus does not hate ritual when it is a means by which we approach him - he loves anything which brings us even an inch closer to him. But he hates, and hates for our sake, anything which would keep us or others even an inch more distant – and it is for this reason that he is so angry with those who pride themselves as wise or discerning, but who keep us away from Jesus. Jesus seeks to make his dwelling in us, and invites us to make our dwelling in him. Archbishop William Temple wrote (in his inspired commentary on St John’s Gospel) that all forms of Christian worship, all forms of Christian discipline, have this mutual indwelling as their object. Whatever leads to this is good; whatever hinders this is bad; whatever does not help to this end is futile. The words and the actions mean nothing of themselves, but, in Temple’s words, they are a means to the deeper apprehension of silence. The silence which is God with us, and God within us – here, now in this chancel.
Mark Ashworth
11 July 2010