Sunday Sermon: The Feast of Christ the King

 

Today is the feast of Christ the King. My heart sank when I read the text: what is there left about Christ the King that’s not already been said and would bear repeating? Not for the first time do I feel that I’ve drawn the preacher’s short straw.

When I first began looking at this text we were approaching Remembrance Sunday, and along with many others I watched as Her Majesty exercised some of the responsibilities of her office: in the Royal Albert Hall on the Saturday night and on the Sunday morning at the Cenotaph. I don’t know about you, but, state occasions apart – and not always then - royalty doesn’t have much of an impact on my daily life.

Nevertheless that theme of royalty stuck in my mind for this morning. When we come upon "Christ the King" in the church calendar, what are we to make of it? What does the metaphor of Christ as King mean in an age when, constitutional monarchies notwithstanding, we probably know more of fairy-tale, pampered royalty along the lines of Disney and Hans Christian Anderson?

On the other hand, depending on your cultural experiences, perhaps you associate royalty with despotic, distant, and exploitative leadership.

Remote or not, valued national asset or not as the modern monarchy might be, and, as an idea, contaminated by third world despots, conspiracy theories about Diana’s death, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, the State Opening of Parliament and Hello Magazine’s full colour edition on the latest Royal wedding, baptism or divorce, I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if, Monarchist or Republican, we might not be a bit schizophrenic about the exact nature of monarchy!

Yet we are faced this morning with a passage deliberately chosen for this feast because of its royal theme: Jesus is referred to three times as King: by the soldiers at the cross, on the inscription nailed to the cross, and by the criminal asking to be remembered when Jesus came into his kingdom. Unless we live in one of the world’s three absolute monarchies, kings don’t mean much to us.  Neither does calling Jesus our Prime Minister express what the Scriptures are talking about when they call Jesus a king.  They are saying that he is the absolutely most important person in our lives.

Now there’s a challenge if ever I’ve heard one: Jesus as the most important person in my life – or not. Wow.

So, let’s remind ourselves of the context again: the opposition to Jesus has been building. Irritated by how the people love him, Jesus' enemies display their resistance to God's reign by their absolute ferocity. We’ve already heard in Chapter 20 that after "the scribes and chief priests realized that he had told this parable against them, they wanted to lay hands on him at that very hour, but they feared the people". In Chapter 22, as Passover approached, we also heard how "The chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people".

As Jesus now hangs dying, we, too, join the people who ironically hear the truth spoken in ignorant, sarcastic insults. "He saved others, let him save himself!" That, of course, is exactly the point of how Jesus is enacting God's reign of mercy, by not saving himself. But they are blind. Then they cite the heart of the Biblical story as accusations against Jesus: "If he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one."

The Romans were responsible for the inscription over Jesus' head: "This is the King of the Jews." and their soldiers mocked Jesus and all of Israel with this title. It was the title with which Pilate scorned Jesus and the title which King Herod Antipas desperately wanted for his own. The point of crucifixions was to humiliate "enemies of the Roman Order" in public displays of Roman clout, as if to say: "Look here, Judeans, this is the fate of all with pretensions to royal titles only Rome can award!" Ironically, the faithful know Jesus truly is the King of the Jews, but not because Rome said so. No, it is the title, "The Messiah of God" that carries the promise, because it is God who has chosen Jesus by anointing him with the Holy Spirit and with power. And God's "Messiah" or "King" exercises God's righteous reign of justice and mercy. So "the Messiah of God" is truly "the righteous one!"

Look ahead a few verses beyond this and notice in Luke's account how, when a Roman Centurion "saw what had taken place, he praised God and said, 'Certainly this man was innocent!'" Mark’s version has "Truly this man was God's Son". The Greek word that is translated "innocent" also means "righteous." Through the centuries, the Christian faithful have understood that the Centurion was not merely announcing they had executed an innocent person, but his words noted the ultimate defiance of God's reign, killing the righteous one, the Messiah of God.

Now this is a familiar story and, as we’ve seen, it is interwoven with royal references: king, Lord, reign, anointing and so on. But what are we to do with this passage now? I’m always reminded of the parable of the sower at this point in a sermon. How is each of us to respond to the passage, because it absolutely requires a response? Well, we’ve stood with the crowd as the events have unfolded but unlike the crowd we’ve the benefit of hindsight. We know what’s going to happen and we have some grasp of the theological implications of the sequence of events. Is the seed of this passage going to land on stony ground or is it going to land on the good ground and grow and flourish. At the end of that parable Jesus warned his listeners, “Whoever has ears, let them hear.” That’s a constant challenge when we hear the gospel, however familiar the passage might be.

At the start I speculated whether such a familiar story would yield up new insights. It did for me and I’d like to share that with you.

My thought of the Kingship of Jesus focused on the royal quality of mercy, particularly as applied to the royal prerogative of the pardon. Let’s think for a moment of the two who were crucified with Jesus: one joins with the crowd and the religious authorities to insult and denigrate Jesus while the other asks for mercy, “Remember me when you come into your Kingdom.”

What was it that the penitent saw at that moment? Hardly Jesus in his glory, orb and sceptre in hand as he sat on his throne. We need to remember that this man saw Jesus at his lowest and most wretched: his glory had been ebbing away in Gethsemane and again before Caiaphas, Herod, and Pilate; but it had now reached the utmost low-water mark. Stripped of his garments, and nailed to the cross, he was mocked by the local branch of rent-a-mob, and was dying in agony. Yet, while in that condition, emptied of all his glory, hung up as a spectacle of shame and on the verge of death, he achieved this marvellous deed of grace.

I don’t know about you but I’ve been desensitised to the utter awfulness of the crucifixion by its very familiarity. It wasn’t until I saw Mel Gibson’s excoriating film The Passion of the Christ that the true horror of it set in: it leaves nothing to the imagination in its graphic portrayal of Christ’s last hours. It was truly shocking and for me - despite the disgust - all the better for it. I needed to be reminded what Jesus went through.

However, for me, what makes this event memorable doesn’t just lie in the weakness of Christ at this moment of grace but that the criminal being crucified alongside him could perceive it. It is the fact that the dying man could see the Kingship of Jesus before his eyes. Put yourself in the place of the criminal who did not have the benefit of theological hindsight. Do you think at that point that you could perceive the Kingship of Jesus? Could you readily believe him to be the King of glory, who would soon come to his kingdom? I’m pretty sure I couldn’t have. It was a very impressive faith which, at such a moment, could believe in Jesus as Lord and King.

And this is, surely, all the more remarkable because the man was in great pain himself, and at the point of death. It is not easy to exercise confidence in someone else when he is in as bad a state as you are.

I’ve no doubt that there are many in this congregation who have experienced significant suffering – disappointment, illness, bereavement and so on - and one of the things you’ll no doubt be able to warn those here who have yet to go through it is that when we are the subjects of acute suffering it is not easy to exhibit that level of faith we believe we possess at other times. Even so, this man, suffering as he did, and seeing Jesus in the same state, still believed and gained eternal life: it’s worthwhile remembering that this man who was Jesus's last companion on earth was his first companion in the Kingdom of God.

We need to be more like that man!

One of the great temptations for many Christians is to prefer a sugar coated Christianity – Christianity-Lite if you like, to accept the gift of salvation the King offers certainly, while eliminating the implications of this great call to discipleship. Our greatest temptation is that the cares and routines of this life can become more important than the Kingship of Jesus. Remember today’s passage is telling us that Jesus should be the most important thing in our lives. And so the business of family, friends, jobs, homes and hobbies – our own personal familiar routines - get in the way of our discipleship and therefore of Jesus’ mission to bring his kingdom closer.

I was going to say: our challenge as disciples is to join Jesus in his mission to bring the Kingdom of God closer, but actually, to extend the idea of Kingship, perhaps it would be good for a while to consider ourselves not so much as disciples of Jesus but as Subjects of the King. So our challenge as subjects of that King is to join him in his mission to bring the kingdom of God closer. Nothing more, nothing less. We follow Jesus not just as Saviour and King, but also as Role Model. We do it because he did it. That’s the challenge but I’m not coming with answers. If only!  I have to face that same challenge and there’s a little passage from Philippians that exhorts us, “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling”. I have to do it and you have to do it and there aren’t any answers because each of us is different. The prophet Micah put it very succinctly, “And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God”. If we want generic guidelines to begin to work out our own salvation and bring God’s Kingdom closer, we could do a lot worse than to listen to Micah, “And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God”. If we are acting justly and loving mercy it will inform our politics, our attitudes, our motivations. We need to be in the vanguard following our role model. What would Jesus do? What would Jesus say? What would Jesus think? How would Jesus respond? It’s not trite at all: it’s the challenge.

Where do you stand on the issue of the international aid budget? On poverty? On human sexuality? On race, immigration and asylum seekers? On crime and punishment and so on? Why do you think the way you do on those topics? Has that view been shaped the values of our society and the news media or by Jesus’ values?

The man dying beside Jesus could have gone along with the crowd. How easy that would have been. He was surrounded by scoffers: it’s easy to swim with the current and hard to go against the stream. This man heard the priests, in their ignorance and pride, ridicule Jesus and the crowd join in. The other criminal was caught up in this mood and he scorned Jesus too. How easy it would have been to have gone with the flow, but his faith was not affected by his surroundings. He is a model for our discipleship.

In Matthews Gospel Jesus tells the story of the sheep and the goats and he concludes: What you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me… and whatever you did not do for the least of these you did not do for me. That is Jesus’ Kingdom in practice. How are we measuring up?

It is the Kingship of Jesus that allows us to be his disciples and it is not a despotic Kingship but a benign Kingship that gives us the responsibility and the freedom to join him in bringing that Kingdom to others.

 

Year 10 again!

Year 10 again. O Joy!

“Roman Catholics?” Courtney is very animated for someone who appeared to be asleep only a few seconds ago.

“Roman Catholics? Do they still exist? What do they look like?” There is a note of incredulity in her voice – which is an improvement on the usual surly whine we’ve all grown to love and treasure.

There is that moment: you know? The briefest of moments when you could hear a pin drop?

And then the room erupts. Even by the very low standards of this most bottom of bottom sets, Courtney has set a new standard and the rest of them know it.

And fully intend to exploit it.

Not that Courtney is the slightest bit ruffled by the response and resorts to her time honoured default position: brazen it out.

I marvel at her willingness to brazen it out given

1. The derision of everyone else in the group
2. The untenability of her statement

“Well, how would I know? I live in the twentieth century!”

Loud guffaws from around the room.

Really? Anyway, Roman Catholics aren’t an extinct species.

There is the merest raising of an eyebrow as if to suggest perplexity. Given all the makeup she is wearing, I am amazed the eyebrow muscle has the ability to take the strain and I ponder the mental image of plaster flaking from a wall.

“They built all those roads.”

It’s my turn to look perplexed.

The redoubtable Mrs. Carol, Support Assistant Extraordinaire, chips in, “I think she’s talking about the Romans, aren’t you Pet?”

Now at this point I don’t think Courtney has any idea what she’s talking about, but that’s a position she’s quite used to.

The others by now have lost interest and are constructively filling their time by smearing each other with glue-stick residue or poking pencils in each other’s ears.

Please don’t do that. I’ll have to fill in forms!

They settle remarkably quickly and I notice Aaron (“It’s pronounced Arran” No it’s not.) has a significant amount of red in his hair. Fashion statement or problem with as board-marker? No time to ask.

Right! Have a look at the bottom of Page 7.

“Bottom! Hahahahahahaha!”

Thanks Alfie.

They work in something approximating an on-task fashion. When I say “approaching an on-task fashion”, given the nature of this group, what I really mean is an off-task fashion.

Put the hole-punch down now.

Now we need to keep abreast of current affairs, so …

“Breast! Hahahahahahaha!”

Cheers Alfie.

Sunday sermon: Jesus and the Ten Lepers from Luke 17:11-19

 

 

 

Luke 17:11-19

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus was going through the region between Samaria and Galilee. As he entered a village, ten lepers approached him. Keeping their distance, they called out, saying, “Jesus, Master, have mercy on us!” When he saw them, he said to them, “Go and show yourselves to the priests.” And as they went, they were made clean. Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice. He prostrated himself at Jesus’ feet and thanked him. And he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus asked, “Were not ten made clean? But the other nine, where are they? Was none of them found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?” Then he said to him, “Get up and go on your way; your faith has made you well.

 Some context: We are walking with Jesus in the final months of his life, toward Jerusalem. For many months he has crossed Israel preaching the gospel of the Kingdom, doing many miracles and healings, showing compassion and sympathy, tenderness and mercy but also speaking firmly about judgment, to awaken the people to the necessity of looking to Him as their Saviour, their Messiah.

We join him this morning passing between Samaria and Galilee and we witness a healing: a healing, unusually of a large group rather than individuals...ten people with leprosy.

Lepers were, of all the sick, the most to be avoided. That's why we’re told they stood at a distance. What must that’ve been like? Have you ever been isolated from family or other people? Such as being in prison? Or, being in the military and posted overseas, without your family? Or, moved to a different community where you knew no one? Or, went away to university for the first time and all was new and different? If so, you have the beginnings of a sense of the isolation leprosy brought.

In the ancient world they didn't know about bacteria, antibiotics, rates of infection, or any of that but what they did understand was that sometimes what starts out as a simple rash on the skin, can lead to disaster, and what starts with one person can end up affecting many more. So what did they do? They separated the lepers from other people, and didn't let them live with anyone or eat with anyone, or even talk with anyone, except for other lepers. It could cost you your family and friends and life as you know it is gone. Unclean -- outcast -- away you go, off with the other lepers. The people you needed most, the loving family and friends, you couldn't come near. You couldn't associate with other people in the synagogue or any social environment whatsoever. You were an alien from all of life.

And there were rules to make all this happen as set out in the Book of Leviticus: laws about how far away lepers had to stand from other people, about how they had to wear worn-out clothes and warn people in a loud voice whenever they were walking down the street, and people at Jesus' time believed that leprosy was the punishment for sin, something the leper had done to deserve this fate so they tended to be very unsympathetic. These were the most miserable of all people, believing that they had been cursed by man and cursed by God as well.

It is against this background that Jesus demonstrates compassion, sympathy, and power and in doing so, challenges and undoes what the people would have assumed was a divine curse. It is a powerful indication of the Kingdom at work: the old order is passing away and, for those willing to see it, there is a new future. It is an astounding and incredible healing from all perspectives. 

I don’t know whether that’s something we consider very much – well, I don’t, perhaps you do: our isolation from God is over and for most of us here it’s been over for a long time.

There are a number of directions we can take at this point in terms of a theological reflection and learning points – something practical we can take away from this morning. A lot of commentators concentrate on the ungrateful nature of the nine and there is clearly a huge area we could explore there in relation to our responses to God’s grace. Others concentrate on the fact that of the ten, the only one to come back is the Samaritan, the despised foreigner, and we could usefully have a discussion about the limits we and others like to put on God’s grace.

I think I’d like to look at the nine: not the ungrateful nine but the nine as they can stand for models of discipleship following the gift of God’s grace.

What happened to the nine is, of course, speculation. We don’t know what became of them but it is Jesus who invites us to speculate; it was he who asked, “Were not ten made clean? Where are the other nine?” Yes, where were they? What could have happened to them? Luke doesn’t give us an answer, so the question remains, hanging. It is up to the reader to wonder, to imagine, to speculate, to guess.

When we hear Jesus ask, “Where are the other nine?” I think we tend to hear a tone of judgment and criticism in his voice, as in, “Where are the other nine? They should be here!” But I can’t help wondering if it was more a deep sense of compassion that led Jesus to ask that question. “Where are the other nine? I wanted their healing to lead to a life of wholeness.” I find that interesting because the nine clearly had faith – they called out to Jesus to be healed and they were: it wasn’t faith that they lacked so what went wrong?

I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to compare us to the lepers and their lives after their encounter with Jesus to ours. We’ve had an encounter with Jesus: at some stage in our lives he has touched us and changed us. How has it gone from there? Well, it strikes me that there might be some models of discipleship amongst the nine that might be a challenge to us.

Let’s speculate about the first possible group of lepers. Perhaps their first thoughts were of their families. After all, how long had it been since they had last seen them? For many years they had had no contact with them. Like all lepers and other unclean people, they had been forced to live outside society and keep their distance from all others.  What if the families weren’t open to receiving them back? The healing becomes a curse. Things won’t be as they once were.

Describing one’s self as a disciple isn’t always a universally welcome thing amongst friends and family and rejection is a reality for some people who take the path of Christian discipleship. When someone comes to the Christian faith from another faith group, that conversion can cause untold antagonism and uproar. Others face indifference, ridicule and cynicism from a secular environment. How lonely that discipleship becomes: it could lead one to give up on it.

And a possible second group: what if they tried so hard to be accepted but others couldn’t forget what they had once been and they were never truly welcomed back?

We are constantly told that the church is a family and I know that over the years many people have settled here because they’ve not been made welcome elsewhere or have felt uncomfortable with the teaching they have experienced elsewhere. They’ve had the encounter with Jesus and then spent a period in the wilderness of the institutional church: they’ve drifted from the church but that encounter with Jesus has brought them back, perhaps a number of times, but the church has shown no welcome. The church isn’t always good at practicing what it preaches. As many of you know, I had a period with another denomination and would now class myself as a returner to Anglicanism. I can’t pretend that I have been universally welcomed back and in some quarters I’ve been treated with a degree of suspicion bordering on hostility. It seems to be what I was that defines me in the eyes of others, not what I am now or could go on to be. Such disciples run the risk of being kept on the margins.

Consider a third group: having been lifted from the bottom of the social order, they forgot that experience and could find no compassion in themselves for others who were outcast and marginalised.

We’ve met those Christians before haven’t we? I remember the Lent group here where we were examining the series “Rev” and we came upon the actor Darren Boyd’s funny but rather scary cool-priest with his juice bar and life of black and white certainties and the disappointment he expressed in Adam Smallbone’s spirituality with its layered shades of grey. For those Christians there is only one pattern of discipleship – theirs, and for these disciples the touch of Jesus has led them to look down on others as a consequence.

And some in that third group: what if they’d noticed that one of the lepers had been a Samaritan –“someone not like us”?  What if they couldn’t reconcile the way God had treated someone else with their own set of values; a set of values which counted some people as more worthy than others? That way could lead to hurt, resentment and bitterness in the disciple.

Well, we know them too don’t we? This is the next stage up from scary cool-priest. This is the monstrosity who is Adam’s Archdeacon. The Gospel is about theological and doctrinal orthodoxy and about putting others down: they are scathing and dismissive of those who hold alternative views – not that there are alternative views of course. Their certainty brings them a sense of superiority and it shows in their dealings with others. These Christians are arrogant, lacking in humility and lacking in the warmth of human kindness. Other wings in the church are to be tolerated – but only in as much as they can also be undermined. Yes, the touch of Jesus that might lead to superiority as a model of discipleship.

What if the healing was perceived by others amongst the lepers in such a way as to make them believe Jesus had seen something special in them? If that were the case, then surely others would also see in them something special. Perhaps they now had expectations.

This is a hard one I think: there are many people who truly believe that God has touched them and have called them to some form of ministry and service and they struggle to find their place in the scheme of things. I think it’s difficult because we are all called – “the priesthood of all believers” – so how do we discern what that calling is and how open are we to hearing the perceptions of others in our search for that role? In this model of discipleship the touch of Jesus might lead to disappointment and recrimination.

And a sixth group: what if some of the lepers had been on the margins for so long they couldn’t make the transition to the new life? What if that led to self-doubt and a sense of unworthiness? Did they really belong in this new world after all? Maybe Jesus had made a mistake.

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, and look, new things have come.” 2 Corinthians tells us. That doesn’t always ring completely true for some people does it? For some the struggle of discipleship means a huge turn around in terms of what they are leaving behind and for some there are the expectations that the church and other Christians put on them which might not themselves be what Jesus would have asked in terms of discipleship. Here the healing touch might lead to our being oppressed by others in the church with their perceptions of what God requires of us.

What if the seventh potential group truly wanted to give thanks to God and perhaps give their lives to serving others – when they got themselves re-established and their lives sorted out. But life has a habit of getting in the way doesn’t it? There’s always something else that needs to be sorted before I can take that next step.

I’m sure this has applied to most of us at some stage in our pilgrimage of faith. What opportunities for service have we missed because life got in the way? “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions” may not be a Biblical text – although it is attributed in some form to St Bernard of Clairvaux – but it pretty well sums up how we consistently fail to take Jesus at his word and allow other stuff to get in the way. “As soon as I get this sorted …. I’ll probably find something else that needs my attention.” The touch of Jesus here could lead to a discipleship of unfulfilled potential.

So, where does all this leave us? Can we identify a default position? Possibly in others, but we may have missed the point if we can’t see something of ourselves in these styles of discipleship.

I don’t know the answer to this, but the question is worth each of us asking: in what ways have we responded to Jesus after our encounter with him? Can we see ourselves in any of the models of discipleship I’ve speculated on for the nine who got it wrong? Have you spotted another style in there I’ve not considered and is that, too, inadequate as a response to Jesus?

I was careful though to couch my analysis of these models of discipleship in terms of “might” and “could”. It doesn’t have to be that way.

So, if the answer to either of those questions is yes, then the supplementary question has to be: what are you – and I include me – in the grace of God and the power of the Holy Spirit, going to do about it in order to be like the leper who Jesus perceived had got it right?

 

Sunday Sermon: Luke 12. Jesus comes to bring divisions.

Luke 12:49-56

[Jesus said to his disciples], "I came to cast fire on the earth, and would that it were already kindled!  I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how great is my distress until it is accomplished!  Do you think that I have come to give peace on earth?  No, I tell you, but rather division.  For from now on in one house there will be five divided, three against two and two against three.  They will be divided, father against son and son against father, mother against daughter and daughter against mother, mother-in-law against her daughter-in-law and daughter-in-law against mother in law."

He also said to the crowds, "When you see a cloud rising in the west, you say at once, ‘A shower is coming.'  And so it happens.  And when you see the south wind blowing, you say, ‘There will be scorching heat,' and it happens.  You hypocrites!  You know how to interpret the appearance of earth and sky, but why do you not know how to interpret the present time?"

Not an easy Gospel passage today. When I started preparing for this morning, I realised I wasn't familiar with this part of Luke’s Gospel, indeed it sounded quite alien – not the Jesus we’re used to at all. Its uncomfortable reading isn’t it? We may be better acquainted with Matthew’s version which somehow doesn’t sound quite so confrontational, Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Luke, on the other hand, concludes by roundly condemning his audience as hypocrites.

On reflection, perhaps they sound equally bleak.

I don’t know why I was discomforted: I’ve never bought into the Gentle Jesus, Meek and mild image, in fact in my classroom I’ve a picture of Jesus based on a Che Guevara poster which bears the legend “Jesus? Meek? Mild? AS IF!” The rather fey Jesus with small children and fluffy animals so beloved of Bible illustrators couldn’t be further from the truth because we do come across Jesus in anger and violence as he drives the money lenders out of the temple. We rationalise that, rightly, by talk of righteous anger and how offended Jesus was at the sacrilege and blasphemy associated with the way the temple courts were being used in the run-up to the Passover

When we read or hear the Gospel stories we generally assume that we are the audience for what Jesus is saying and that is often the case, but it may be a very individual and personal thing that speaks to your heart – but not to yours on this occasion but the next time we read Jesus’ words it could well be the other way round: the message may relate very much to our personal circumstances; to our political, cultural or social circumstances; it may apply to us today, but wouldn’t have twenty years ago and perhaps won’t in twenty years’ time. Having said that, there are messages which are for all of us and this is surely one.

Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!

Luke has Jesus talking generally to the crowds but in and amongst that he talks in asides to his inner group of 12. It really is two conversations juxtaposed with the disciples being treated to a more intimate commentary on the side. In these disciples, Jesus saw the potential of great commitment. Now, in terms of an implied audience, I consider myself a disciple and I think it’s fair to think that what Jesus said to those first disciples he is still saying to me – and to you - his later-day disciples. Isn’t it a little bit scary to think that in us Jesus sees the potential of great commitment too?

But he tells us he comes to bring division.

And this does speak to me: in my view Jesus is a divisive figure – it’s not for nothing that people warn you not to talk about religion (and politics), particularly at family events. Try talking to your Jewish and Muslim friends about Jesus and see how long it takes to reach at least a theological parting of the ways: friendships have been lost over this. Even within Christianity we can find ourselves in sharp disagreement about Jesus; about what his teaching means; about what we believe he would say about the issues of the day and almost always with the assumption that our view is the one that Jesus would espouse. Often without even realising it we like to own Jesus and deploy him as sponsor of our own theology/morality/ethics. I was once told by an American Christian that the reason I didn’t agree with him over some point of Jesus’ teaching was because of my “sin darkened mind.” Oh, that sin darkened mind of mine. Caught out again.

So, uncomfortable as this passage is, let’s not fool ourselves that what Jesus is saying isn’t based in fact and experience.

I come to cast fire on the earth Jesus tells his disciples. That’s very Old Testament isn’t it? When we hear talk of fire in an Old Testament sense, what images or themes spring into our minds? What is Jesus talking about here? To me, Jesus seems to be talking about judgement – but not in the sense that we usually think of it. I don’t think this is about lakes of fire and all the O.T. imagery we associate with that use of language.  Surely Jesus is being far more sophisticated here: think about that for a moment – it’s personal, it’s individual, but what are the certainties we hide behind that perhaps we shouldn’t? What are those things we delude ourselves with? That pride, those exaggerations we hide behind rather than the honest and painful self-awareness? Jesus' presence is an explosive presence: it lights the blue touch paper which blows away our self-delusions, and what we see as the certainties of life. Surely Jesus is talking about casting the fire of destruction over all the misplaced aspirations and expectations we have, stripping away all that we’ve come to rely on; those things which we allow to insulate us from God’s message of His Kingdom. Mary already anticipated this upheaval in Chapter 1 of this Gospel, when she says, He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imaginations of their hearts; he has brought down the mighty from their thrones and exalted the humble and meek; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away. 

Gentle Jesus meek and mild? As if!

But another aspect of fire, is that it brings light into darkness.  Elementary though that image may be, it is a very significant one theologically. It is the light of God that is shone into the dark places of this world and into the dark places of our hearts, highlighting those things we would prefer to keep hidden, even from ourselves. We can choose not to; we can prefer the darkness to the light or compromise with a sort of spiritual twilight; a form of lip service discipleship – and I include myself in that.

And light is about revelation – God’s revelation of Jesus. I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life. But that imagery of light is not fully complete without the imagery of fire: that's the contrast the burning away of our false hopes and certainties also illuminates Jesus the Christ. John the Baptist used this image at the very beginning of Jesus' ministry when at Jesus' baptism he said, I baptize you with water, but . . . he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and with fire.  Just as the children of Israel were led out of Egypt by a pillar of fire by night, so Jesus comes to lead us out of captivity into freedom from the slavery of our own self-centredness, our own self-defeating behaviours and our separation from God which religious writers down the ages have called sin.  That is a powerful image too.

These disciples Jesus is addressing here were to embrace that burning purity and give their total commitment to Jesus Christ and to the Kingdom of God. Not as superheroes but as broken, inadequate humans with all the foibles, weaknesses and frailties that go with the human condition. That’s the first part. The second part is that they were willing to be transformed by that commitment. So, what does that mean? I’m sure we all identify with the first part. How are you doing with the second? What does it mean to be totally committed to Jesus, to be radically committed to the Kingdom of God in this day and age, given that it will bring division?

And that’s the question we need to ask ourselves otherwise why are we here? This passage has to have the power to challenge us and to change or it will remain a slightly awkward piece of religious literature, nothing more.

One of the great temptations for many Christians is to prefer a sugar coated Christianity – Christianity-Lite if you like, to accept the gift of salvation certainly, while eliminating the implications of this great call to discipleship. Our greatest temptation is that the cares and routines of this life can become more important than the call of Jesus. And so the business of family, friends, jobs, homes and hobbies – our own personal familiar routines - get in the way of our discipleship and therefore of Jesus’ mission.

Is this what Jesus means when Luke has him condemn his audience as hypocrites?

Our challenge as disciples is to join Jesus in his mission to bring the Kingdom of God closer. Nothing more, nothing less. What did the reading from Hebrews encourage us to do? Let us run with perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. We follow Jesus not just as Saviour but as Role Model. We do it because he did it. That’s the challenge but I’m not coming with answers. If only!  I have to face that same challenge and there’s a little passage from Philippians that exhorts us, work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. I have to do it and you have to do it and there aren’t any answers because each of us is different. The prophet Micah put it very succinctly, And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. If we want generic guidelines to begin to work out our own salvation, we could do a lot worse than to listen to Micah, And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. If we are acting justly and loving mercy it will inform our politics, our attitudes, our motivations.

Jesus bringing divisions? You bet! And we need to be in the vanguard following our role model. What would Jesus do? What would Jesus say? What would Jesus think? How would Jesus respond? It’s not trite at all: it’s the challenge.

Where do you stand on the issue of the international aid budget? On poverty? On human sexuality? On race, immigration and asylum seekers? On crime and punishment and so on? Why do you think the way you do on those topics? Has that view been shaped by Jesus’ values?

In Matthews Gospel Jesus tells the story of the sheep and the goats and he concludes: What you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me… and whatever you did not do for the least of these you did not do for me.

Oh yes. That is about division.

Amen

It's A Knock Out

 

The summer heat wave moves on apace here at the Knowledge College as the term draws to an end. My 16 year olds are long gone, having completed their exams and I find myself attached to a Year 10 form for the enrichment activities of the last week of term, their regular tutor being on maternity leave.

I arrive at registration to discover, to some surprise, that only ten of them have turned in but they seem keen and enthusiastic. Conscious of the health issues associated with being outside in such temperatures, I run through my air-stewardesque safety routine. I hold up my water bottle.

How many of you have water?

One hand goes up. Not a good start. I dig into the bag and hold up sunscreen. Two hands go up. This is not looking good. Hats and sunglasses elicit no responses at all and I note a lot of strappy tops: so much for the baggy T-shirt. It isn’t as if they’ve not been told – repeatedly.

“It’ll be alright.” They reassure me.

 I rue the fact that I am not young enough to know best.

We set off to the sports field and my lot leg it to the front leaving me, somewhat in the slipstream of their enthusiasm bringing up the rear of a column of some 250 sets of hormones. The halt, lame and lazy are at the back – I exclude myself, although it doesn’t take long for me to wish I hadn’t worn these old trainers: I can feel chaffing and suspect I may be developing blisters.

Oh MAN UP!

The slowest of the slow include two girls who could only care less and walk any slower with the aid of mogadon.

“I’m gonna be nice today” girl A says as she slaps girl B.

“That wasn’t nice.” (Slap).

“Well you run with scissors.” (Slap).

“Yeah? Well, you play with matches.” (Slap).

It’s going to be a long day.

As we arrive I am both intrigued and impressed by a vast array of brightly coloured, giant, inflatable obstacle-course type games. The day is being run by an organisation called We're A Knock Out,  based on a long running pan-European TV show from the 1970s. The basis of the game is team competition with lashings of humiliation. It was a bit like a rerun of World War Two with a more predictable outcome: Germany always won, France peaked early and Belgium always came last. We did the usual magnanimous-in-defeat British thing and pretended that it was the taking part that mattered.

The lead instructor, an Australian, divided each form group into two teams, A and B. Because my lot were so light on numbers they opted to be both A and B and do everything twice, which worried me slightly given the temperature and the lack of shade in the games area.

I particularly liked the heat where the kids were strapped into a huge table-football game, if only because a lot of the kids ended up facing the wrong way and their instructor wouldn’t let them change. They were still better than my lame attempts at table-football.

Wearying of watching after a while I sloped back to the waiting enclosure for a drink and a reapplication of sunscreen. Lucy is brought over to where I am sitting.

“AND DON’T MOVE!” her Form Tutor instructs. I assume he is talking to her. I look at her.

“I hate him.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“Joanne splashed me with water, (the cow) so I splashed her back (the bitch). Then she poured a bottle of water over me, so I poured a bottle of water over her. Then she poured her juice in my hair, so I hit her with my bottle. Then she said I had a big bum, so I told her that her shorts were up her arse-crack. Then Sir came along.”

Some of mine wandered by for a snack. They were giddy with excitement.

“You should have seen Kelley! She’s soaked to the skin and she just kept whacking the boys out of the way.” I picture Kelley, elbows and knees sharpened for the fray, as she throws herself under netting and through huge inflatable obstacles. I’m glad she’s on my team.

At some point I realise that my blister is both sore and inflamed. I take myself to the designated first-aider, whine a bit and am rewarded with a plaster.

At lunch I find myself sitting with a gaggle of my Asian colleagues.

Where’s Derrinder today?

“He’s away. He got sunburnt on sports day.”

Are you serious?

“He’s got sensitive skin. It’s a good job he’s not a girl.”

There are blank looks from the non-Asians and smiles and sage nods from the Asians.

“It’s the Indian Tiger.” Ishvinder confides.

More blank looks.

“I mean the Indian mother. The Jewish mother has nothing on the Indian mother.” She adopts a heavy cameo Indian accent “Get out of the sun! You’ll go dark and then who will marry you? Do you want to be twenty-two and single?”

“You don’t have long to find a doctor.” Zibya takes up the challenge. “And if you don’t find one, we’ll have to settle with a dentist. Oh, the shame. Your grandmother will spin in her grave. A teacher? A TEACHER? Don’t be ridiculous!”

Not to be outdone, Kajol joins in. “When your grandmother was your age in Delhi she had thirty four children. Did she complain? What’s the matter with your cousin? He drives an Aston Martin! He’s a good catch. So what if he’s got one leg longer than the other? No-one’s perfect! What other men have paid you attention? You can’t afford to be choosy. You’re not exactly a looker yourself!”

I look at my friends, Muslim, Hindu and Sikh as they vie to outdo each other with stories of Tiger Mothers, Mothers-in-law, grandmothers, Aunts and Step-mothers, each more outrageous than the last, while the rest of us hoot with laughter. It puts me in mind of Mrs. Bennett from Pride and Prejudice. What a joy.

All was going well until we hear the dulcet tones of one of our Senior Managers.

“Oh God, someone’s given her a microphone.”

We sit in horror as she announces that there will be a staff heat. I look around at my colleagues.

They have evaporated leaving me on my own.

Tumbleweed blows by.

I am doomed and before I can say Not Bloody Likely I am pressganged into a team. Sixteen members of staff who have so far managed to stay clean and dry and two hundred and fifty baying fans: the potential humiliation quota is through the roof.

Has there been a risk assessment? I enquire weakly. Some of us are over 40 and strangers to exercise.

No quarter is given and we are off, bouncing on space-hoppers, scrambling under a net, submerging in a pool of water looking for a ball of a specified colour, (You call that blue?) scrambling under more net and throwing the ball into a bucket.

I decide not to go first when all the attention is on the opening four. Opting to go last in my team, I rightly surmise that no one will notice me in the general scrum. This is good because I fail spectacularly on the space-hopper (I am too tall), get tangled in the net on both occasions “Go on Sir.” Manage to grab Mrs. Bakers dress in the pool, apologise profusely as she accuses me of cheating, nearly drown, retrieve a ball of indeterminate colour, discover my legs no longer work and fail to get the ball into the bucket. My legs seem to belong to someone else and I remember, as I stagger back to the start and my life flashes before my eyes, that I’m not actually 15.

(Mrs. Baker has been coy and skittish with me ever since.)

My next round pairs me against the Demon Headteacher: he is very competitive and leaves me standing. I wouldn’t have minded so much but he’s older than me.

At the end of the game not one of us has actually managed to get the ball (was about to say our balls, but decided against it) into the team bucket.

I feel I may have risked my life to no avail. Four teams have tied for last place.

“It’s like a swimming pool” one colleague complains. “There was a plaster at the shallow end.”

I look at my toe. Oops.

I officially smell like a pond. I have no spare clothes and will be leading Compline in the local church after school. Great!

Every child is throwing water at every other child. Lucy seems to be leading the charge, but it is good natured.

Rather surprisingly, my little lot won both A and B competitions. I am very proud, even though I’d largely forgotten about them as the day wore on, what with me having problems of my own. They had to be stretchered off, but they won!

 

Jesus sends out the Seventy: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20, (and a Baptism.)

Jesus sends out the Seventy: Luke 10:1-11, 16-20

After this the Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go. He said to them, "The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out labourers into his harvest. Go on your way. See, I am sending you out like lambs into the midst of wolves. Carry no purse, no bag, no sandals; and greet no one on the road. Whatever house you enter, first say, 'Peace to this house!' And if anyone is there who shares in peace, your peace will rest on that person; but if not, it will return to you. Remain in the same house, eating and drinking whatever they provide, for the labourer deserves to be paid. Do not move about from house to house. Whenever you enter a town and its people welcome you, eat what is set before you; cure the sick who are there, and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.' But whenever you enter a town and they do not welcome you, go out into its streets and say, 'Even the dust of your town that clings to our feet, we wipe off in protest against you. Yet know this: the kingdom of God has come near.'  "Whoever listens to you listens to me, and whoever rejects you rejects me, and whoever rejects me rejects the one who sent me." The seventy returned with joy, saying, "Lord, in your name even the demons submit to us!"  He said to them, "I watched Satan fall from heaven like a flash of lightning.  See, I have given you authority to tread on snakes and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy; and nothing will hurt you. Nevertheless, do not rejoice at this, that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord.

 Where I work we have a sponsored walk every year. Last year we awoke to lowering leaden skies which did not bode well. Sammi arrived in registration, limping.

"I thought I'd walk today instead of getting the bus."

(Who, in their right mind, walks to school in new trainers on the only day of the year when registration is followed by a compulsory ten mile walk?)

Picture this: the elite runners had set off: those who would run the distance in some silly time and the rest of the children, the second team, the walkers in their Gladiator sandals, Ugg boots and flip-flops, were assembled, shivering - this is the British summer after all - to be given a range of stirringly inspirational speeches by members of the teaching staff who, as soon as the kids departed into the drizzle, would slope off to the weatherproof and warm embrace of the staffroom for a restorative coffee.

The kids remained, strangely, unconvinced by these inspirational speeches “Great.” They thought, as they digested the prospect.

It was with that in mind that I looked at today’s Gospel and thought that Jesus might have benefitted from giving one of those stirringly inspirational speeches before sending the Disciples off into whatever was the first century evangelistic version of a wet British summer morning: even if, like my students, the Disciples remained unconvinced. What the Disciples got instead was the analogy of going out into a complex and hostile world as sheep into an environment of wolves.  “Great!” they must have been thinking as they digested the prospect.

As if that unappetising prospect wasn’t enough, these first Christian missionaries are commanded to go empty-handed, without even the most basic provisions necessary for the road. No purse, no bag, no sandals. They must leave all these sorts of basics at home. They are armed instead with only this message: the kingdom of God has come near. This is both their proclamation and their promise. They are to speak these words to those who offer them hospitality and to those who don’t. They are to be ambassadors for Christ; they are to live as role models for all to see. They are to practice peace, do justice, live out the faith. Sheep in the midst of wolves.

It’s worth noting too, that this Gospel version alone refers to the wider group of disciples: not just the elite runners, the 12, but the second team who we don’t generally hear that much about, the first century equivalent of the Ugg boots and flip-flop wearers. Seventy Disciples in total, we are told.

They are Jesus’ "advance team" for the mission he was on. They were to go into all the towns and cities he intended to one day visit and prepare the way.

No longer watching from the side-lines, these followers are now sent out, to share peace and fellowship, to cure the sick, to proclaim the kingdom of God. In short, they were called to live out and practice the faith that they had confessed. And it is in the doing that the seventy are transformed from bystanders to active participants in the work of God. And we’ve been transformed from bystanders to active participants in the work of God because the Kingdom of God has been brought near to us. My students were pushed well beyond their comfort zones by doing something radically different to their normal routines and so were the Disciples.

Surely this is a really appropriate Gospel reading for a baptism. Surely the Kingdom of God has come near today as Tommy is baptised? If we use the analogy of a long walk for the Christian life then much of what is said here applies to Baby Tommy, to Kelly and Rob and to Sally, Karl and Jenny and the special God-friends who are here to support him, as they guide him out into a complex and hostile world like a lamb amongst wolves. We are all at different stages of that long walk: today Theodore has begun his journey. Look around the room and look at the age-profile. Not chronological age, but spiritual age and yet regardless of where we are on that journey, the Kingdom of God has come closer to each of us at various times and in ways that each of us could probably share with the rest. How has it done that?

Well, let's look again at the instructions Jesus gives to the seventy missionaries: they are to enter a town, and where welcomed they are to stay - that's Christian hospitality. They are to eat what is given to them - that's fellowship. Then they are to cure the sick - that's compassion and care. Finally, they are to proclaim that the kingdom of God has come near. Could it be that it is through the faithful and loving ministry of the disciples, then and now, that the kingdom of God in fact comes near? When we have experienced those things at the hands of others or been the means of sharing them with others we are bringing the Kingdom closer.

We need to recognise that the seventy were unlikely to be trained religious leaders.  Today, we are tempted to think of the clergy as the people who are sent into ministry.  The reality is that everyone is called to proclaim the "nearness of God's reign" no matter what we do to earn money.  The Epistle to the Hebrews talks about “The Priesthood of all Believers”. You and me, lay and ordained. The Vicar and Tommy .The seventy have real lives in addition to being followers of Jesus but what they do in those environments as followers of Jesus is to model, however inadequately the nature of God’s kingdom.  The sharing of God's peace, the bringing of justice, the curing of the sick are all signs of the breaking in of God's future reign into our present world and reality.  These things don’t, contrary to popular belief, require professional religious leaders.  All of us are called to this ministry, and we carry it out in any number of ways. Theo is called to that same ministry.

On the sponsored walk, despite all the moaning, blisters, cow dung and nettle-rash, there was a sense of achievement and accomplishment. At the end of the walk my kids were pleased with themselves.

And the seventy are wildly successful too.  They come back thrilled.  Jesus knows that they will do these things and more – much of which we read about in the book of Acts. 

So, an interesting piece of religious history: but it is more than that – the implications must be clear for all of us to see. You’ve heard me encouraging you to consider whether we are the implied audience for Jesus’ words in any given Gospel passage before. Well, if we call ourselves Disciples then it’s a no-brainer: this isn’t just a piece of religious history; it is an injunction to action to us too.

When we finish our journey will we have that same sense of accomplishment that my walkers and the seventy had? Have we already, at different stages in our lives, already caught a glimpse of this?

There is something about the Christian faith that simply has to be lived to be understood. There are some gospel truths that only make sense in the homeless shelter, or outside parliament, or at a hospital bed, or in any one of the great number of places in the world where people cry out for mercy, for food, for justice, for compassion.

I’m currently in the process of writing an essay on The Vocation of the Church of England. (Don’t ask.) And one of the things I’ve been looking at is the idea of mission. There are lots of examples of mission but, to cut a long story short, if, as modern disciples we are asking how we go about following Jesus’ instruction to minister to others and spread The Kingdom, one model of mission really stands out: see where God is already at work ….  and join him there.

See where God is already at work …. and join him there.

Well we can see God clearly at work in the lives of Rob and Kelly, and Sally, Jenny, Karl and all the other special friends here this morning have joined them there in bringing up Tommy and helping him to find the right path for that long walk.

The rest of us just need, every once in a while to see where God is already at work and join him there. Surely there will be plenty of opportunities on our own journeys to help bring the Kingdom closer.

Let us pray. Liberate us, O God, from all the burdens that we carry on this journey of faith, so that we might welcome your kingdom with open hearts and empty hands. Empower us, O Christ, to share the Good News that the kingdom has come near and to demonstrate its coming through communal acts of compassion, justice, and peace.

 Amen.

Names of the Baptismal Party have been changed.

Sir, what's a FEMIDOM?

 

In a moment of mental weakness I suggested to Mrs. George that age 13/14 might be a little late to start sex-ed so we decided to keep it at the same time of year but drop it down a year.

I am not convinced.

My year 8 class is perfectly pleasant but the boys are prone to giggling and making inappropriate comments. But then that's the point, I suppose: we need to challenge ignorance before it becomes ingrained.

"So, is a vasectomy when your testicles are removed?"

"But condoms always split - a bit like JLS. Did you see what I did there?"

We have reached the stage of discussing contraception and I thought I'd start with the coil. They are stunned into silence at the site of them.

"You could go fishing with that!"

I ask which life stage a woman who chooses to use the coil might be at that this would be her choice.

"Old women." shouts Callum. Now Callum isn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

"Old women dont need contraselectives, stupid!" Sabrina can be very forceful at times. You don't mess with Sabrina.

Then the class is entirely unconvinced that the cap is, indeed, a method of contraception. I go to my (very) badly rendered diagramatical cross section of "lady parts" and show how a cap would work but only after Callum had suggested that a man might put it "up him". One or two of the other lads looked less than keen at this point and I was left pondering whether we might be in the processing of traumatising young minds into celibacy. ("If you think I'm using that you've another think coming.")  I do not forget to mention the very important section about spermicidal jelly - a little of which lands on my desk. They recoil in horror as if it were acid and cry "Eeeewww" as one. I point out one of the disadvantages: that it is now hard to manipulate because it is slippy and, right on cue, it flies out of my hand and lands on Carly's table. There is almost a stampede to escape as if, in its evil intent, it might just eat one of them.

I remember watching one French and Saunders sketch with one of my girls when she was at an impressionable age; a sketch where Dawn French asserted that a slinky was a method of contraception. I'm sure that explains why my daughter isn't keen on dating.

Anyway, I say, let's look at the condom. I delve into the resources case and flourish a ... femidom. This attempt at humour is completely lost on them and they all sit there expectantly waiting for the explanation. Now the next stage of the explanation for the femidon requires the rather belated introduction into the conversation of Percy the prosthetic blue penis.

Also available in pink. I quip.

Over their heads.

It dawns on me at this point that it is break for another cohort of kids and I am standing with my back to the window waving a blue penis about for all to see. A part of my brain begins to imagine how a letter of parental complaint might be worded.

Nevertheless I plough on.

The femidom is very effective but it really doesn't seem to have caught on.

"Why?"

I don't think they've been very well marketed.

"Perhaps they could put glitter on them."