Through Christ God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

Last Tuesday morning, on the last morning of the meeting of the General Synod of the Church of England here in York, Archbishop Hosam, the Anglican Archbishop in Jerusalem, addressed the General Synod and spoke about the mission and ministry of the diocese that he leads in a rather troubled part of the world.

He spoke of the 35 institutions his diocese runs – institutions principally concerned with healthcare, with education, and with hospitality. He spoke about the 28 congregations in his charge. “These,” he said, “our arms of ministry in which we show our faith in God through action and ministry. Healing the sick and teaching reconciliation with peace and justice,” he said, “is at the heart of our ministry.”

And do we know why?

Saul of Tarsus, who we also come to know as Paul, discovered in a blinding revelation, so the Acts of the Apostles relates, he discovered that in Christ all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, as we just heard read – and Saul-turned-Paul realized that this astonishing statement had implications – implications that fundamentally changed his life, changed his understanding of discipleship, of action, and of prayer.

Paul’s ministry was extraordinary and extensive and he gathered his own band of followers and disciples around him. And – probably – after his death, one of his own disciples wanted to pick up the baton, to carry on with the good work and share its mission with others. And thus this anonymous figure – in all probability – wrote to the church in Colossae, wrote the letter to the Colossians to remind them (and anyone else who might just be listening – like you and me here this morning) that Christ is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation… He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together. He is the head of the body, the church… [and] in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell.

And if that isn’t remarkable enough, through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

So, in other words, for Archbishop Hosam, and for the 35 institutions that he leads, working in those precious areas of ministry, in that troubled region. For them and for their staff, they must be Christ-like – whatever the cost – because, as the author of the letter to the Colossians makes so clear – Christ is and therefore must be at the centre of everything.

In an interview with the Church Times after his talk to the Synod, Archbishop Hosam developed the theme of what it must mean to be church in a difficult environment, what it must mean to be church in a time or war. How are we called to act as church? How do we proclaim God’s holy message? His answer was, “We are committed to reconciliation and peace-building… The ministry of presence and the ministry of resilience… We live and embody the gospel.” And he does that, and his team around him do that because, as we heard, we are now reconciled in Christ’s fleshly body through death.

And it isn’t, in a sense, just Christ’s death. It’s a call to set aside the values of human comfort and safety. We certainly know if we watch the news that the ministry of the diocese of Jerusalem comes at one hell of a cost. The Ahli Hospital – the Anglican hospital in Gaza City – that hospital has been attacked six times during the war between Hamas and Israel. Its emergency department was bombed on, of all days, Palm Sunday.

And just this past week, while Archbishop Hosam was in York, to wake us up to what is going on out there, just this past week while the Anglican archbishop was our guest, the one Roman Catholic church in Gaza City was bombed by Israel. Its priest was injured along with several others, and two people were killed – Saad Salameh, the church’s janitor, and an elderly lady called Fumayya Ayyad –whose younger brother, it just so happens, is the senior doctor, the medical director, of the Ahli Hospital in Gaza.

Years ago now, back in 2014, I visited Gaza. I was there after the last military campaign between Hamas and Israel, a campaign which at the time seemed horrifying, but really is like a children’s tea party when compared to what has happened since the terrible Hamas attacks on October 7th, 2023, and all that has followed. But I found myself, on this visit, in a war zone looking at the ruins of indiscriminate violence and bombing. It was, for somebody who has led a very innocent life in military terms, it was all very shocking. And on the last of my two nights there, having dinner with the staff of the Ahli Hospital, I found myself sitting next to this extraordinary doctor.

And Dr Maher asked me a very simple question. “Do you know,” he said, “the secret of a good life?” I didn’t dare answer, because I knew that my attempt to have a good life would sound comfortable, would sound selfish. I simply waited for him to offer me his wisdom. And he said, “It’s very simple: just make sure your neighbour has a good life.”

A remarkable statement even then from one of the tiny minority of Christians in the enclave that is Gaza – surrounded by so many Muslims, a small number of whom would actually gladly have eradicated the Christian presence. And all of them surrounded by Israel. “Make sure your neighbour has a good life,” said this doctor. And he said it, I am sure, because, In Christ God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

And so to hospitality. And so to that well known and well misunderstood brief little story of the two sisters, Martha and Mary. They come in a very improbable place in the gospel if you look at the action that is going on. In Luke’s gospel, Jesus takes nine chapters, from chapter 9 to chapter 18, to get from the Galilee in the north of Israel down to Jerusalem. Luke traces a journey during which Jesus teaches and preaches and performs miracles – Luke paints this journey step by step, adding to the drama that will unfold when Jesus gets to Jerusalem on what we call Palm Sunday.

And yet, because Luke has a point he needs to make for us, Luke grabs Jesus’ arrival in Bethany, at this house – Luke grabs it and yanks it chronologically completely out of place. Because Bethany is a suburb of Jerusalem. Jesus is nowhere near there. But theologically, this story comes in a very important place.

Regular listeners, as it were, might remember that last Sunday we heard the famous parable of the Good Samaritan read here in York Minster, and read in churches around the western world. That ultimate parable about action – about doing something, about being practical, about getting of your backside or getting off your horse and helping somebody. And if you come back next week, whether to the Minster or to any church in the western world, you will hear Jesus telling his disciples how to pray. Next week’s gospel begins with Jesus teaching the Lord’s Prayer. Jesus, in a sense, making sure that whatever else his followers do, they are fervent in prayer.

And in between these two so significant passages, comes, ripped out of geographical sense, comes the brief story of Jesus rolling up in the house of Martha and Mary. And this story has been subject of all sorts of interpretation, some of which have stopped us looking at what’s really going on. Martha, for instance, isn’t necessarily tied to the kitchen stove in a frantic way, because she is clearly a house-holder who has resources. Jesus didn’t rock up on his own – he had quite an entourage traveling with him.

But Martha clearly thinks that she is doing everything that counts as discipleship herself, and she has the nerve to criticize Jesus. It’s not directly Mary she’s criticizing – she’s criticizing Jesus. Because she wants to get Mary to see what is going on. It’s one of those moments when she can’t see the wood for the trees. She’s forgotten why she is busy.

But, as Colossians reminds us, you do need to be busy. We are ‘holy and blameless, says the author of Colossians, when you continue securely established and steadfast in the faith. Both of them are doing the right thing. But Martha is forgetting the right reason.

Saint Augustine, 1500 years ago, said “Martha was absorbed in the matter of how to feed the Lord; Mary was absorbed in the matter of how to be fed by the Lord. Martha was preparing a banquet for the Lord, Mary was already revelling in the banquet of the Lord.”

And it’s when we take those two sisters together – when we reconcile them – they serve as the example, together, of discipleship lived out in action and prayer. Because it’s through action and prayer together that we can be good disciples in a world where the ministry of reconciliation needs to be paramount.

At the end of his interview with the Church Times, Archbishop Hosam said, “I’m an Arab, but not Muslim . . . I am a Palestinian, but not a terrorist. And I am an Israeli, but not a Jew,”

“If,” he said, “if I can reconcile myself as both Palestinian and Israeli and Arab and Christian, surely that means that we can live together as Israelis and Palestinians?”

And that principle, that principle we see in our Scriptures this morning, applies to us and our attempts properly to be disciples. This morning we are being asked, asked by those two sisters, asked by Paul and whoever came after him that wrote to the Colossians, asked by Archbishop Hosam and Dr Maher, asked, really, by God, the very simple question: Is Christ central to us? Because, in Christ, God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.

And so the baton gets passed down. From Jesus himself to Martha and Mary, to Saul-turned-Paul and those who followed him, so very visibly to Archbishop Hosam and Dr Maher in Gaza. The only question now, this morning, is whether Christ is central to our lives. And if he is – what are we going to do about it? Amen.