Shards of glass, broken and scattered: A reflection for Remembrance 2020

The village of Youlgreave in Derbyshire lies in a typical Peak District setting.  Some of you may know it.  A few miles outside Bakewell, quite high up, it catches the early winter weather on all sides.

Once thriving on agriculture, its main industry now is tourism.  At its heart sits an impressive church – with a tower that dominates the village.

Inside the church there is also something quite striking.  As you wander about looking at many of its fine ancient features, you are suddenly brought up short by a window that looks surprisingly modern: almost as if it’s abstract art.

It’s a window full of colour, but it portrays no image.  The glass is pleasing to the eye, but each bit looks as though it belongs somewhere else.

And as you look down, the inscription explains how something so strange has come to be set in an ancient, sleepy, Derbyshire village church.  It reads as follows:

‘In memory of Captain Thomas Crompton Waterhouse,
born 1890 killed in action in advance into Gallipoli 1915.’

And further on:

‘This glass was salved from Ypres cathedral and other
churches by his brother between 1914 and 1915.’

Shards of glass, broken and scattered by bombing, were hidden away by Thomas’ brother, brought back to England, and set in their parish church after the war.

In a striking way the window represents so much that was broken and changed by the First World War.

It was a war that had consequences throughout the last century.

It changed the map of the world as Germany lost her overseas territories.

It was the beginning of the modern age, with aircraft and tanks used in warfare for the first time.

And for a generation of poets it brought home the full horror of what the modern age could bring: cavalry riding against machine guns – soldiers stuck in sodden trenches.

At this time of year it is always moving to hear those speaking who fought in these terrible wars.  Sometimes it’s in archive recordings of those – like Captain Waterhouse – whose world was changed forever.

A few years ago I remember hearing one of our oldest poppy sellers speaking.

Ernest Carr, then 101 years old, talked with clarity and emotion about his role in WWII and his reflections in older age of the lives he took as he did his duty.

It is a telling reminder of the shadow of war, echoing down the decades long past the events themselves.

It is clear that the pain of war – of so many who didn’t live beyond their 20s – still haunts these men.

A generation was lost, and they speak to us like survivors of an ancient catastrophe which they narrowly escaped.  Sorrow, pride, guilt and anger, all mixed together in the potent emotions they express.

The stillness of a peak district church on a winter morning seems a million miles away from the trenches and the modern world which that war ushered in.  And the wisdom of Captain Waterhouse’s brother should not be ignored.

He brought those precious fragments from the ruin of France to remind his neighbours of the terrible destruction of warfare – not only in single lives but also the fabric of our communities.  Our churches, monuments and homes.

But he was also saying that we shouldn’t lose hope.  We may not be able to turn the clock back but, if we pick up the pieces and persevere, there is the chance to turn destruction into something for good.

If nothing else, the memory of that war – and all wars since – should re-double our efforts to live in peace whenever, and wherever, possible.  The innocent always suffer – no matter how hard we try to avoid it.

Look at Syria.

The history of a land and its people is changed.  And places that have served as churches for many generations can be reduced to rubble in a day.  War is a very blunt tool with which to resolve the problems of the world.

So today, as we remember those who have lost their lives in warfare, let us also pray that the young people of this generation are never asked to stand in that place again at so great a cost.

And let us pray for all who seek peace – and those who gather up what remains after the devastation of war, and strive to build it into something precious, new and enduring.

Weeping over the Grave, we make our Song – Reverend Canon Vicky Johnson (Precentor)

A Sermon preached at the service for the Commemoration of the Faithful Departed, on All Souls day, 2^nd November 2020 by the Precentor Canon Victoria Johnson

Title: Weeping over the Grave, we make our Song.

There is something defiant about being a Christian. We are subversives. We are radicals. In a world where many argue that we are made to be purely functional, rational, material beings, we believe there is something more.  We are marked with the sign of the cross at our baptism which brings hope out of defeat and life from death.  In a world often devoid of hope, we live in hope- open to possibilities which no eye has seen, nor ear heard, open to new life emerging from a stone cold tomb, however impossible that may seem.

Christian hope is not naïve. We are not delusional. Christian hope is not a quick win- it is not always the consolation we expect it to be- it does not immunize us against pain or sorrow or death.  Our hope does not make loss any easier. Christians are not blind to the realities of mourning and loss and loneliness.

But despite all this, against all this – there is something that makes us hold on, through doubt and fear, to the promise that we have been given. We hold on to a living hope- the promise of eternal life, a life beyond this- the promise of a love which overcomes all things, bears all things, hopes all things, and endures all things and cries out in defiance- where O death is your sting? Where is your victory?

We hold on to a living hope -a promise that this is not the end- life and love are somehow impossibly, defiantly, victorious -refusing to be extinguished, crossing over the great chasm of death, so that nothing is lost. We hold on to a living hope that through Christ all will be raised up on the last day.

The words of the Russian Contakion of the departed, a gift from the Eastern Church, are often read, or sung at funeral services. They are echoed in the prayer before our act of commemoration today:

Give rest, O Christ, to thy servant with thy saints:
where sorrow and pain are no more; neither sighing but life everlasting.
“Dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return.”
All we go down to the dust;
and weeping o’er the grave we make our song:
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.

Whether the wound of grief is raw or whether it has healed over but leaves a painful scar- These words convey the reality, that it is through tears that we make our song at the graveside, but we make that song nonetheless. That song is strangely not a lament- through our tears we are called sing the most joyful word that a human being can express- Alleluia- Alleluia we sing, defiantly, subversively, hopefully.

We are here this evening to remember to sing Alleluia through our tears and lift our eyes in hope towards Christ himself. Though we are dust and to dust we shall return, we know that we are also drawn beyond this earth. As Christians we own our mortality, but we believe that there is more. We believe that nothing is lost to Christ, and he will gather all things to himself, to raise them up on the last day.

We can see that there is light despite the darkness, we can accept finite disappointment but never lose infinite hope, we can sing Alleluia and while weeping make our song over the grave- In God’s power alone we are given strength to leave our loved ones to rest in his eternal embrace as light perpetual shines upon them, so that we might live each day in hope, sustained by the love of God in Jesus Christ which never ends, which spans heaven and earth.

For us, death does not have the last word- it is not the final full stop.

In the grammar of the church, in this service- through music, through scripture, through the sacrament, under the light of the paschal candle and by the reading of names in prayer, we stand firm in the new birth of our living hope. We believe incredibly, miraculously, defiantly that Christ is the Resurrection and the life, and through him we may have life in his name, as our loved ones rest in his peace, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting, for they have been raised up on the last day. Alleluia.

All you Saints of God, pray for us – Reverend Canon Vicky Johnson (Precentor)

A Sermon for the Feast of All Saints, preached at York Minster by the Precentor, Canon Victoria Johnson

Title: All you Saints of God, pray for us.

Someone once said that a Saint, ‘is a person who lets the light of Christ shine through their lives’. Lives which, as we look back upon them, help us see the world through the eyes of faith, and give us a glimpse of the glory of God.

We have witnessed just a year or so ago the saint-making of John Henry Newman, a 19^th Century priest, writer, and theologian from Birmingham, our newest English Saint. It was in fact, he who said that ‘a Saint, is a person who lets the light of Christ shine through their lives’. In Newman, we can almost touch one of the great cloud of witnesses that surround our steps as we journey on.

Even more recently, you may have read about the British born, Italian teenager from Assisi, Carlo Acutis, who died of leukemia in 2006 when he was just 15. Since his death-Carlo has been beatified for his saintly life- which involved coding for catholic education websites, helping the poor and homeless and worshipping God. His body is to be found preserved under the altar of St Francis Basilica, he is wearing Nike trainers, a red T-shirt and a tracksuit.

I can’t help thinking that the three Christians killed in Nice this past week are now numbered with the Saints in light. Vincent Loquès, the churchwarden, Nadine Devillers, life-long worshipper, Simone Barreto Silva, careworker who ran to get help and died from her injury’s, but not before she had said ‘tell my children I love them’. There are also the saints with whom we might be more familiar- Blessed Mary, Peter the Apostle, Paulinus, Alcuin, William of York, the hosts of northern Saints: Wilfred, Oswald, Aidan, Hilda, William Wilberforce, Florence Nightingale, Martin Luther King, Oscar Romero, and on and on the list could go, at least one saint for every single day of the year. We are literally surrounded, if we only have eyes to see them. All you Saints of God, pray for us.

So what is a Saint? A saint is a person whose life and death point towards Christ And embody in their own lives the cross and resurrection –they will have known the pain and suffering that living a life in Christ can bring, they will have had their own journey to the cross, their own passion, but they will also have known that Christ gives joy and life in abundance; in all that they did, their lives will also point to the hope of the Resurrection and the glory and grace of God.

Every Saint is a window into the mystical body of Christ- which is the company of all faithful people, living and departed. They lead us into community, into a great company, from every tribe and language and nation, a great cloud of witnesses who worship God night and day, praying without ceasing, praying for us -their brothers and sisters in faith here on earth- and oh, how we need their prayers today. All you Saints of God, pray for us.

As we set our faces to enter into this next phase of the pandemic, we will all be facing our own ‘ordeals’ to a greater or lesser extent, we are being tested, individually, locally, nationally, globally, we face fracture, discord, brokenness, confusion, we might feel not only deflated and tired, but also as if our world is crashing down around us- but as Christian’s what is our hope?

Our hope is in the God who loved the world so much he gave his only Son, who showed us the Father’s love that we might not perish but have life everlasting, the Son who took upon him our sorrows as we nailed him to the cross, who journeyed to the depths of hell to wake the dead, and rose again through the power of the resurrection to bring new life, and new hope and new love to the whole of creation. Our hope is in the one who created a community of life, filled with his Spirit which we call the church- flawed and fallible on earth but shot through with the glory of God and made one with the church of heaven, those saints in light who endured to the end, who worship with us now, who assist our song and pray for us without ceasing, every day, every hour, every minute.

They too lived in this hope, they died in this faith, they have gone to glory and now they worship with us, and for us. We are not alone in all this. Their lives remind us of where we have come from, who we are, what we believe, and what we can become, they point to light in times of darkness, hope from despair and new beginnings from all that seems lost. They are promise and fulfilment and they hold us in their prayers.

All you saints of God, pray for us, we can be assured on this day of all days, that they have been, they are, and they will be praying for us, now and to the end of the ages. Amen.

Bible Sunday 2020 – Reverend Canon Maggie McLean (Missioner)

Bible Sunday 2020

I imagine that many of us can recall instant details about some parts of the Bible. If I say ‘Our Father’ you know the words that follow. If I ask you – ‘tell me about the Good Samaritan’ – you will be able to summarise the story.

Today is Bible Sunday, a moment in the year when the Church celebrates the importance of Scripture. We all know some of what’s in it; and none of us knows everything that’s in it. If you like, we have a landscape that combines familiarity with hidden surprise.

The Bible is one of those core elements of the Christian faith which draws the Church together. The books we hold in common with other Christians enable us to feed our faith and deepen our understanding of God. Of course, those same words have been a point of disagreement between Christians. How we read the Bible matters at least as much as the words on the page in front of us.

Perhaps, sometimes, we become over-familiar with some of the passages in the Bible. As I said a moment ago, the introduction to the Lord’s Prayer elicits a response almost without thought. The words can be engrained in our lives and emerge before we know it. I’m not saying that this is a bad thing. Having key words of Scripture to hand, without the need of a book, has helped Christians in difficult circumstances down the centuries.

However, we can all benefit from things which give us fresh insight. Things that disturb the familiarity of well-word texts.

Sometimes a different perspective can come from travel. Visiting Tanzania I saw familiar passages in new ways. Visiting a well to draw water wasn’t some remote event but a part of daily life. It was only in Africa that I appreciated quite how similar sheep and goats can appear – but I soon learned that the tell-tale difference was, in fact, the tail. Up for goats – down for sheep.

In a similar way, visiting the Holy Land, places with familiar names suddenly had a shape and a character. The position of Lake Galilee can invite stormy conditions that seem to come out of nowhere. At one moment placid waters can be stirred up when small boats can get into difficulty.

But it’s not only travel that can help us see the familiar with new insight. Thankfully the Church has always had good teachers who can help us see fresh ideas among familiar words. Many years ago ,I went to a conference and came across someone for the first time. Not someone I’d heard of before, but her presentation had the delegates enthralled. This was Paula Gooder, now recognised as one of the leading Biblical scholars of our generation.

I’m delighted to say that Paula will be one of four people sharing online reflections here at the Minster during Advent. In these sessions we’ll be looking at an aspect of Scripture which many people find challenging. Linked to sections of our Great East Window, the themes will reflect Advent and come with the title ‘Apocalypse Now (And then)’.

In the strange times we are in, these Advent reflections will connect our age to the time the window was created. The idea of Apocalypse occurs at many points in the Bible and today’s Gospel reading touches on the end times:

“he will send out his angels with a loud trumpet call,

and they will gather his elect from the four winds”

Experience changes us and, as we change, we read the Bible with new insights. At a time when so much we took for granted is being brought into question, apocalyptic sayings and passages can be read in new ways. We may not be travelling to new places, but the places we know seem to have changed. As we live with new rules and restrictions the familiar has been made strange. How do we sing (or not sing) the Lord’s song in this new landscape?

I hope that our excellent collection of speakers will help us relate the words of the Bible to the realities we face today. Ultimately that’s the basic task of every Christian – to search the pages of Scripture to learn what God is saying to us today. How God is leading us to live ever more faithful lives.

Today we are invited to read, mark and digest the words given to us in the Bible. I hope that we each feel the desire to do that, and to continue a journey of discover which has rewarded Christians across the centuries.

Peter said to Jesus: ““Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Divine Inspiration – The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Preacher: The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)
Title of sermon: Divine Inspiration

Date/time/service: Sunday 25^th October 2020 – Bible Sunday – Evening Prayer

Passage of scripture: Isaiah 55.1-11 & Luke 4.14-30

The Church faces many challenges. The Anglican Church seems to be constantly facing the possibility of division over disagreements and conflicts within itself. Most of these disagreements and conflicts have their roots in different approaches to the bible. At one end of the spectrum there are people who claim that the bible is the divinely inspired objective, historically accurate word of God. At the other end of the spectrum there are those who claim that the bible is a divinely inspired, many layered, work of art, which needs to be read with an awareness of the historical context in which it was written and constantly re-interpreted for each generation.

Those who see the bible as the historically accurate word of God have a tendency to weaponise sections and quotations of the bible in order to win arguments about what is right and wrong, what is acceptable and unacceptable behaviour. Those who see the bible as a work of art with many layers of meaning have a tendency to interpret the bible to suit their argument – for example, they can use it to create a version of Jesus which suits their beliefs and world view. None of this is satisfactory.

What is interesting is that everyone on the spectrum of understanding about the bible will claim that it is divinely inspired. So what does that mean? How does divine inspiration work?

I must confess that when I began to reflect on this thought this week my first thought was of Charlton Heston playing Moses in the film The Ten Commandments. I pictured him on a mountain with a tablet of stone, a chisel and a hammer listening to the voice of God dictating (in an American accent),

“Number 6, Thou shalt not kill”.

This is of course a caricature but I wonder if, in essence, it is what some people think of as divine inspiration. The point is that if this is something like what happened it is not divine inspiration at all, it is divine dictation. It is only if we accept that the bible was divinely dictated that we could claim that it is the objective, historically accurate word of God. The problem with this view is that it depends on God being a dictator, imposing his ways upon us when the overwhelming evidence suggests that God is a loving Father who gives us freedom and invites us to share in his love and in his creative activity. God does not impose, God invites.

So having dismissed the ‘Charlton Heston Theory’ I had to think again about divine inspiration again – what does it mean and how does it work?

We begin with the premise that the people who wrote scripture were divinely inspired. I wonder if this is too narrow a view and that we should begin with the premise that, in order to do justice to scripture, a person reading it needs to be similarly divinely inspired? The basis of all divine inspiration must be prayer. When the poet or poets who wrote the Psalms began their work surely they must have spent time in prayerful reflection before committing their thoughts and images to the page? When we read the fruits of their divinely inspired creative activity we should read it in the same spirit of prayerful reflection so that the same divine inspiration is at work to bring insight and understanding to us.

When Christians meet to find a way through difficult problems we should only ever use the bible and bible passages in an atmosphere of prayerful reflection. The image that came to my mind as I thought about this was that to read the bible not in a spirit of prayerful reflection is rather like driving a car without a seatbelt. The bible is big and powerful and dangerous, without the restraint of prayerful reflection it can be hugely damaging and destructive.

I know that these thoughts are incomplete and leave many questions hanging – is the bible the only writing that is divinely inspired, what about the scriptures of other faiths, not to mention the works other great writers? That question deserves another sermon, my own thoughts would be that divine inspiration is not confined to the Christian scriptures but that I trust that those who compiled the collection of writings we call the bible did so in a spirit of prayerful reflection and by so doing have provided generations of Christians with a rich collection of writings around which and through which God is revealed to individuals and to the Church, a rich collection of writings that reveal, through prayerful reflection, the mind of God.

On this Bible Sunday let us pray that the same divine inspiration that that moved Moses, the Psalmists, the gospel writers, everyone who composed books in the bible, that that same divine inspiration will be with us when we read what they wrote and that we, like them, will recognise and understand something of the revelation of God in the meeting place of the words they wrote, the sacred words of scripture.

Let us pray

We thank you, Lord God, for your word spoken of old through prophets and apostles and recorded for us in holy scripture ; and most of all for your final Word spoken to us in Jesus Christ, made flesh for our salvation. Grant that through the written word we may behold the glory of the incarnate Word, who is now exalted to the right hand of the majesty on high, and to whom we ascribe all praise and dominion for ever and ever. Amen

Are we tenants behaving like landlords? – The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Preacher: The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)
Title of sermon: Are we tenants behaving like landlords?

Date/time/service: Sunday 4^th October 2020 Trinity 17 Eucharist

Passage of scripture: Matthew 21.33-end

Apparently Jesus told 46 parables. To be more accurate, 46 of Jesus’ parables are recorded in the gospels. He may have told others that were not recorded. I would like to say that I discovered this by carefully reading and cross checking all four gospels, but the truth is that I ‘Googled’ it, so I hope this number is accurate! Most of the parables Jesus told were directed at his followers and his disciples in particular, they were designed to show what God is like; the extent of God’s love, compassion and mercy. It seems clear from the gospels that the disciples were not very good at parables. Often they did not understand them and they needed Jesus to unpack and explain them.

The parable we heard in the gospel reading this morning is different. It is not directed at his disciples but at his critics, the Chief Priests and the Pharisees. It is interesting that they seem to be better at parables than the disciples because they realise immediately that in the story Jesus tells they are the tenants of the vineyard who kill the servants of the landlord and then his son, so they can keep the vineyard and all the produce for themselves. This explains why their reaction is so negative.

So, if this is a parable directed at critics of Jesus, what is in it for us, people who love Jesus and want to be his faithful disciples?

In essence The Parable of the Wicked Tenants is about greed. Someone has invested a great deal of money and time to create a vineyard. It has everything needed, vines, a winepress, a watch tower to be able to guard against thieves and a sturdy hedge to stop wild animals entering and snaffling the grapes. In the parable this fully functioning vineyard is the Jewish nation, the people of Israel, God’s chosen people. The tenants are the religious leaders of Israel, those charged by God with the responsibility of caring for and nurturing the people of Israel. The landlord’s servants who were sent to receive what was due to the landlord from the vineyard, are the old testament prophets, sent by God to make sure his people were being faithful and fruitful and that they were thriving in the ways of justice and peace. The problem is that the tenants, the religious leaders, are enjoying the power and the prestige of their role so much that they reject the landlord’s servants and kill them. The tenants are greedy. They want the vineyard for themselves. They ignore the fact that the whole enterprise belongs to the landlord and seek to take it over for themselves. Matthew cleverly blurs the ending of the parable into real life by telling us that the Chief Priests and the Pharisees, having heard and understood it, wanted to have Jesus, the landlord’s son, arrested …… but they did not because Jesus was popular with the crowds, who at that time, saw him as a prophet.

So far so good ….. a little bit of interesting bible study here tells us about the failings of powerful religious leaders over two thousand years ago in Palestine, but what does this parable have to teach us today?

I love the Church and I believe that, at its best, it is the body of Christ bringing healing, peace, compassion, justice and love into the world through what it says and stands for on the international and national stage, but also by what it says and stands for in every little community and parish; building community, caring for the vulnerable, helping people navigate life and accompanying people through times of joy and times of sorrow. But, my spectacles are not rose tinted, and I know how easy it is for the Church to succumb to the temptation to think too highly of itself, to become self-serving and to spend more time arguing about itself than truly serving God. This parable becomes very uncomfortable if we read it as the Landlord being God and the vineyard being the world and everyone in it and the tenants being the Church which can, at times, lose its way and ignore or misinterpret the landlord’s servants of scripture and tradition to promote only itself and end up ignoring and therefore rejecting Christ. Please do not misunderstand me, a great deal of the time I think the Church gets it right and embodies Christ in what she says and does, but I also see that the Church sometimes gets it badly wrong, and it is when this happens that we need to read this parable, learn from it and renew our focus on following Jesus and the way of sacrificial love which leads to us to the Kingdom of God.

There is, of course, another way we can read this parable which will cause us even greater discomfort. We are disciples of Jesus. That is why we are here this morning. We love Jesus and seek to be faithful to him in all that we do and say. We believe that Jesus is the way, the truth and the life. We are called to follow him and we believe that the more people who follow him the better because the way of Jesus leads us to experience life in all its fullness and it leads to the establishment of God’s kingdom. But, maybe it would be helpful to grit our teeth and read this parable as being about us as individuals. God is the landlord of the vineyard. The vineyard is our life and all that we are, the gifts we have, the people we love and all that we possess. The servants of the landlord are the bible and Christian teaching and the Son is Jesus calling us to be more fruitful, to follow him more closely, to walk the way of vulnerability and sacrificial love, to live by the hard truth that we actually possess nothing, all is God’s and we are simply stewards of God’s gifts. Jesus calls us to live lives of radical obedience which may risk crucifixion ….. do we listen? Do we take this on board and adjust our lifestyles and priorities accordingly? Or do we act like the greedy tenants in the parable and seek to keep everything for ourselves and use the gifts we have been given to ensure we remain comfortable and safe while at the same time deluding ourselves that we are actually in charge and in control of our lives and of the bit of the world in which we live?

Uncomfortable thoughts! May we have the courage to read this parable in all its richness and many layers of meaning so that we are reminded as the Church, and that we are reminded as individual disciples, that the world and our lives belong to God.

The Chief Priests and the Pharisees Jesus was talking to would have known the verse from the first book of Chronicles I am going to close with, but they were ignoring it. The question this parable forces us to ask is, are we ignoring it too?

‘Yours, O Lord, are the greatness, the power, the glory, the victory, and the majesty; for all that is in the heavens and on the earth is yours; yours is the kingdom, O Lord, and you are exalted as head above all.’

Access to Heaven – Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Preacher: The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)
Title of sermon: Access to Heaven

Date/time/service: Sunday 27^th September Trinity16 Evensong

Passage of scripture: Ezekiel 37.15-end & 1 John 2.22-end

Imagine arriving in heaven and seeing all sorts of different people, including some wearing Hijabs and others wearing turbans! I once suggested this might happen in a sermon I preached at a Cambridge College and it caused a bit of a stir. Part of my rationale for suggesting this might happen was the story Jesus told of the Good Samaritan in which the stranger, the ‘other’ is the one who truly loves his neighbour. Everyone listening to the story when Jesus told it would have expected the priest or the Levite to be the hero, but Jesus made a Samaritan, a foreigner, the real ‘good neighbour’. The chaplain of the college received complaints about this sermon from a cohort of students who clearly read the bible differently to me and focussed on verses like this,

 Acts 16.31where the Apostles are asked, ‘Sirs, what must I do to be saved?’ They answered, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household.’

Romans 10.9 if you confess with your lips that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved.

The problem with this as far as I can see is that the Samaritan in Jesus’ story did not know that ‘Jesus is Lord’ but he did the right thing, he loved his neighbour. I know he is a fictional character, made up by Jesus for the sake of a good story, but if he were a real person would he really be excluded from heaven because he never said ‘Jesus is Lord’?

I thought of this when pondering our second reading this evening from the first letter of John. John is writing to people who are being subject to false teachers, he tells his friends to stick with the original true teaching they heard, presumably from him. Our passage today concluded with these words ‘If you know that he (Jesus) is righteous, you may be sure that everyone who does right has been born of him.’ You may be sure that everyone who does right has been born of him!

I have thought about this a lot and as ever it comes down to two things – how we read scripture and how do we think about Jesus. Idealistic and enthusiastic students and old liberal clergy like me can argue endlessly about who is saved by trading verses from scripture and no satisfactory conclusion will be reached until the Day of Judgement arrives. The more interesting thing to explore is to reflect on who Jesus is ……. of course we believe that Jesus is a historical figure from Nazareth in Palestine who lived at the beginning of the first century. But we also believe that Jesus is the second person of the Trinity who, in the glorious community of the Trinity, has been part of creation since the very beginning. The apostle John does not begin his gospel with the story of the birth of Jesus in Bethlehem, he starts it with these words about the birth of creation … ‘In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the word was God …..’

Perhaps one of the most interesting passages of scripture to look at as we consider who Jesus was and is, is John 14. This is the passage in which Jesus says to his disciples, in verse 6, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’ When Jesus said ‘no one comes to the Father except through me’ did he mean, ‘no one comes to the Father except those who are able to say ‘Jesus of Nazareth is Lord’ or did he mean, ‘no one comes to the Father except those who follow the way of love I have walked, believe in the truth I embody and live the life of love I live’? We don’t know the answer to this question but my reading of scripture leads me to think that both those who say ‘Jesus of Nazareth is Lord’ and those who live in the way, the truth and the life of the second person of the Trinity will ultimately be gathered into God’s eternal embrace.

I don’t think Jesus came to form an exclusive group of followers, he came that all people may have life and have it abundantly (John 10.10). We should never try to lock Jesus into our particular theology, or our favourite church, or in to our own limited world view. People once tried to lock Jesus in a tomb and we all know what happened next!

Yes, we do believe in the name of Jesus. Yes, we do profess Jesus as Lord, and we can and should do this with energy and enthusiasm, but we should not make the mistake of thinking that believing and saying these things is the only way. Jesus is more than the historical person from Nazareth who lived like us, on earth, in linear time over 2,000 years ago. Jesus is the second person of the Trinity, who swept over the waters at the beginning of creation, the eternal Word who brought all things into being and continues to be the source of all that is creative today and as such, is not to be confined by us in any neat theology or dogma. We should delight in God, the Son, wherever, and in whoever, we see creative work being done. Jesus came to include not to exclude so let us rejoice that ‘everyone who does right has been born of him.’ Including some who wear Hijabs and some who wear turbans.

Authority and Integrity – Reverend Canon Maggie McLean

There was once an MP who was campaigning hard to be re-elected. One day, after a busy morning chasing votes (and no lunch) he arrived at a church barbecue. It was late afternoon and the MP was famished.

As he moved down the queue for the food, he held out his plate to the woman serving chicken. She put a piece on his plate and turned to the next person in line. “Excuse me,” the MP said, “do you mind if I have another piece of chicken?” “Sorry,” the woman told him. “I’m supposed to give only one piece of chicken to each person.” “But I’m starving,” the politician said. “Sorry,” the woman said again. “Only one to a customer.” The MP was a modest and unassuming man (you can tell this is a work of fiction!), but he decided that this time he would throw a little weight around. “Do you know who I am?” he said. “I am the local MP.”

“Do you know who I am?” the woman said. “I’m the lady in charge of the chicken”.

Authority exists in many different forms. It can be about a time and a place, as well as about roles and responsibilities, as the MP in our story discovered. Someone can have authority in one context and entirely lack it in another. It isn’t always easy to tell who’s in charge, or who has the right to make decisions – though I’m sure this is never a problem at Minster!

And if it is true that authority can depend on a time and a place we sometimes look for clues to work out when it’s being used. We might know that someone is a person of authority because they have the right kind of badge. In health centres and other places the staff wear identification to show that they have the authority to be there. They carry a ‘token’ that tells other people who they are. We don’t just trust them because they represent themselves, but because they represent something a lot bigger.

If we need the services of a solicitor, accountant or other professional we look to see that they have the authority of a professional body. We want to know that their conduct is regulated – that if we have a complaint there will be someone to go to. All around us there are public authorities for education, health, trade and the law. Together they provide a framework in which we live, knowing what to trust and who to question.

Of course, some of the fiercest conflicts in our history have been about where authority lies in both religion and politics. Is the head of state also the head of our religion? Before it is established authority can often be contested. We ask, ‘who gave them the right to make decisions for us?’ Authority has to be authorised and accepted if it is to be truly effective.

Perhaps the single quickest way for someone to lose authority is for there to be a difference between what they say and what they do. No matter how strongly they carry the mandate of an institution, if a gap begins to emerge between what they say and do then people begin to lose faith in them. Like the parable used by Jesus in our Gospel today, we have more respect for the person who acts than the person who pays lip service. It’s not for nothing that we have the proverb ‘actions speaker louder than words’.

When the chief priests and elders of the people began to question Jesus’ authority what they were concerned about was his official status – his mandate. They are asking who put him in charge. Jesus takes that question and deflects it to another recent religious leader who lacked official approval: John the Baptist. Jesus challenges the leaders to tell him where John’s authority came from. If the authority for John came from heaven then the leaders couldn’t deny that the same might be true for Jesus. He might not need the human endorsement of a religious body: it might just come from God and be recognised by the people.

The authority of Jesus, like that of John, is that the people who know their need of God turn to him.
His authority is authentic – it comes out of living experience rather than a book, a tribunal or a legal charge. Jesus doesn’t have a badge. There’s no convenient ID for the religious leaders to see. They find Jesus scary because he doesn’t fit into their world: he isn’t ‘one of them’.

What’s more, it becomes clear to the leaders that Jesus isn’t interested in joining their holy huddle – their club – and that frightens them even more- Because they have nothing to offer Jesus. In fact, Jesus’ authority is greater with the people because he isn’t seen as an official representative.

Of course, in all kinds of ways in our world today, we need to see ID and evidence of authority. But authority that is inauthentic is of no use to anyone. I sometimes meet people who think that the Church always needs protecting in our society. That laws need to be made to back it up (or prop it up)! It always strikes me as showing remarkably little faith in God. If we believe that the figure we read about in the Gospels is risen and in the world – is present through the Holy Spirit- then the authority of the Church shouldn’t depend on institutions, laws or privilege. Our authority should come through what we do, the care we give and the love we show.

In our Gospel today we are reminded that what drew people to Jesus was his living authority. Jesus put his words into deeds and this is what drew people to Jesus 2000 years ago, and it is the only thing that will draw them to him today.

A God whose love is limitless. Is this a faith for me? – The Reverend Canon Maggie McLean

There are moments in the life of every Christian when we might ask: ‘is this for me? Is this the faith to which I should commit my life? Is Jesus the answer to my searching and striving, the person to put my faith in?’

It might be a question that comes when we heat a particular teaching. I can remember taking a mid-week service with a small congregation and reading the parable of the Prodigal Son’. One very faithful worshipper spoke to me at the door on the way out. For the first time, she said, I felt myself in a parable. What disturbed her was the fact that she identified with the older brother. With the one who’d been good and done all the right things.

The faithful child who stayed at home and kept the family business running. Put up, as we all do from time-to-time, with the peculiarity of parents and bitten his lip.

Then the second son returns – and it’s party time. All is forgiven. The elder son can’t cope with the fuss, the celebration, and what feels like the poor reward for his obedience.

Maybe today’s Gospel makes us feel that way too.

We might well find ourselves in the company of the grumbling, hard-working, all-day grafters. Miffed at being treated the same as the late-comers. What kind of world is this, where the sinner and the work-shy enjoy equal rewards? Is this the kind of Kingdom we want to support – to put out faith in.

It has echoes in our current crisis of Covid-19. Some, on furlough, have been paid to shield themselves at home while others have borne the ‘heat and burden of the day’. In places like the NHS, where colleagues have been divided by necessity, it can stir feeling of injustice.  How can we be paid the same, when some have worked and others have not? Our heads may know the reasons why this was needed, but human nature can stir very different feelings.

If the parable of the workers in the vineyard was acted out the consequences aren’t hard to imagine. On day two fewer people turn up early. Most wait until the heat of the day has passed and work an hour or two for their pay, in the coolness of late afternoon. I’m not sure how profitable the business would be a week or so down the line.

So why does it matter – what is this trying to tell us? More than anything else, I feel it tells us about the kind of God we are called to worship. A God whose love is limitless, and who desires our good no matter how late we leave it. A God revealed in Jesus who endlessly calls and invites, and at whose banquet no one is ever too late.

If we think it unjust that such love should be offered to both the timely and the tardy, then perhaps Christianity isn’t for us. If this parable offends us then it may be God’s way to let us know that there is more work to do. More work on our spirituality and the misguided feelings of envy for those who come at the eleventh hour.

Here in the Minster it is a reminder to us that long-standing service doesn’t privilege a relationship with God. Through these doors all are equally welcome and equally loved. If the Prodigal Son and the late-arriving workers disturb us, then we need to be disturbed. Faith is not always comfortable and God’s work is at different stages with each of us. We can never be too old to learn, or too entitled to think we don’t have to.

The wages of love are for everyone – and in the troubling times of Covid-19 we all need to be reminded of the God who is here for everyone. From the first light of the day to its end.

You need me and I need you – The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Preacher: The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Title of sermon: You need me and I need you.

Date/time/service: Sunday 6^th September 2020 10am Zoom Eucharist Trinity 13

Passage of scripture: Matthew 18v15-20

We have never gone in for those eye-catching luminous signs outside the Minster with catchy lines on them like ‘Down in the mouth? Come in here for a faith lift’ or ‘Carpenter from Nazareth seeks joiners’. Someone sent me one last week that I thought was quite good, it just said ‘Ch_ _ ch, what’s missing? U R!’ I thought that was quite a clever one.

It is one of the mysteries of the Church of England that so many of us think that faith is a private business, something that is just between me and God. I meet loads of people who tell me they believe in God and that they say their prayers but who are generally missing, they rarely, if ever, darken the doors of a church.

I talk to lots of people about Baptism. It is surprising how many people talk about wanting their children to be baptised because they want them to grow up with Christian values. Nothing wrong with that – I think Christian values are great. Sadly, people who say that and their baptised children are also, generally, missing from church.

I also talk to a lot of people who do go to church sometimes but their churchgoing is controlled either by their mood. ‘I didn’t feel like going today’ or by other people ‘We had visitors so I didn’t go to church’ or by their lifestyle ‘It’s the only day of the week I can get a lie in’. More often than they think, people who say these things are also missing from church.

What all these people forget, the ‘private religion people’, the ‘Christianity is a set of values people’, the ‘occasional, when I am in the right mood, there’s nothing else on and I’m not too tired people’, is that the heart of Christianity, the heart of being a Christian, is being part of a community. As Jesus says in the gospel this morning, ‘Where two or three are gathered together, I am there among them.’

The very first thing that Jesus did when he began his ministry was to gather a community around him, friends to share with, to offer mutual support, to help with his ministry. Jesus was not a loner. When he wasn’t being besieged by crowds of people wanting him to teach them or heal the sick he was with his disciples, his core community, talking to them, trying to help them understand his teaching and his message. Being part of a community was essential to Jesus and to his ministry. Being part of a community is essential for all Christians. ‘Where two or three are gathered together, I am there among them.’

There has been a resurgence in celebrating community over recent months – in many places volunteering and helping neighbours has been significant and then there was the ‘Thursday clap’ for the NHS – all of this has created bonds within our communities that maybe were not there before. These have been important community events. The point for us is that every week, here on Zoom and in the Minster, there is an important community event. We gather here to establish and celebrate community. We gather here primarily to worship God, but that involves learning together, offering mutual support, being aware of the needs we all have and being there to help each other. In all baptisms, whether they happen with just the family present or in a main church service, make it clear that baptism about joining the Christian community, it is not just about adopting a set of values. Baptism is the beginning of a journey into faith into friendship with God, a journey we do not undertake alone, we travel together. Becoming a Christian is about joining a community.

Part of the challenge for us is the eternal challenge we all face constantly, the challenge not to be selfish or self-centred. What I mean by this is that when we think about this church community, we shouldn’t just think about where we fit in, whether we have the time or the inclination to turn up, if it’s a big enough priority for us. What we should be thinking is that our presence, our prayers, meagre though they may be, our singing, quiet and off key though it may be, our smile at the sharing of the peace, our presence at the altar rail, our little square on the Zoom screen, may be important to somebody else, may help and support others in their journey of faith.

There is nothing wrong with saying our prayers on our own sometimes, there is nothing wrong with admiring and seeking to attain ‘Christian values’, there is nothing wrong with having a busy life with lots of commitments and responsibilities and there is nothing wrong with looking after ourselves. But, if we are Christians, if we are baptised people on the journey of faith, growing in friendship with God – we cannot and should not go it alone. We cannot and should not isolate ourselves from others. We cannot and should not consider our faith to be private. As Christians we are never independent, we are always interdependent, we need each other. This is just as true when we meet in person in the Minster as when we meet here on Zoom.

There is a clever song by Ed Sheeran called ‘You need me, I don’t need you’. Too many of us (including me) live our lives as though other people need us but we don’t really need other people. As Christians this is just plain wrong – we can all look around the church today or flick through the screens at our Zoom service and say about each person ‘You need me and I need you’. The Church Community is sacramental and we all play our part because it is when we gather that Jesus is made present, remember what he says in today’s gospel – ‘Where two or three are gathered together, I am there among them.’

Learning not to be in control – The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)

Preacher: The Reverend Canon Michael Smith (Pastor)
Title of sermon: Learning not to be in control… 

Date/time/service: Sunday 30^th August 2020 Trinity 12 11am Eucharist

Passage of scripture: Matthew 16.21-end

In the gospel last week we saw Peter at his very best. He responds to Jesus’ challenging question, ‘who do you say that I am?’ with the clear, confident answer, ‘You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.’

In the gospel today Peter is not so impressive! Jesus warns him and his fellow disciples that he is to go to Jerusalem and that he will suffer, die and be raised again. Peter’s response seems instinctive and panicky, ‘God forbid it, Lord! This must never happen to you.’ This provokes Jesus to respond by saying ‘Get behind me Satan’ he reprimands Peter further by telling him is thinking in human ways and not divine ways.

It’s very easy to be critical of Peter here but if someone we loved told us they were going to die we probably wouldn’t respond by simply accepting what they said and trusting in God. More likely, we would question them and look for ways to help and protect them, and that is all that Peter is doing. Looking at it like this, Jesus seems to be a little harsh on Peter, to say the least! But maybe there is quite a lot we can learn from this encounter as we deal with the pressures and fears of this wretched pandemic.

Over the last generation or two we, in the west, seem to have pretty much convinced ourselves that if we are sensible and careful and eat our ‘five a day’ we should be healthy. In addition, the way that we can access and manipulate information through computers and phones has made us believe we are in are in control of our own lives and our own destinies. We have come to believe that we can make ourselves safe from harm, and more importantly, we have come to believe that we have a right to be safe from harm.

For many of us, it is only when a massive storm strikes, a cancer grows, a tree falls as a car approaches or a virus spreads, that we suddenly have to face the reality that we are not, ultimately, in control of our destiny, or of the destiny of the people we love most in the world. We can do everything we can to care for our planet, to live healthy lives, to avoid danger, to avoid spreading disease, to care for each other – but in the end we have to live with the fact that from our first breath to our last, life is risky and however careful we are, there are things in the world we cannot control.

This belief that we have a right to be safe and well and this sense that we are in control is very modern. For all of history, and for billions in the world today, life threatening illness, famine, or other natural disasters were and are a daily reality to be lived with.

In addition to coming to believe that we have a right to be safe we have also made dying and death a taboo subject. It is rare to hear the words ‘dead’ or ‘died’ spoken anymore, now it seems, people ‘pass away’ or simply ‘pass’. Not only do we rarely talk about death we tend to treat it as a failure. We talk about people ‘losing their battle with ….’ If someone dies unexpectedly we tend to always want to find someone to blame. The truth is, of course, that death is inevitable for all of us. Death is actually just a part of life.

I read a fascinating article this week by Rowan Williams, the last Archbishop of Canterbury. In it he explores our attitude to death. He begins by responding to a claim by some extreme Christian group that as Christians they have no fear of death so they see no need to comply with all the rules and regulations surrounding Covid 19. Rowan Williams begins by saying that risking ones own life by not complying with the rules and regulations is one thing, but that not complying actually means that you are risking other people’s lives, and that is wrong.

Rowan Williams agrees that we, as Christians, should not be overly fearful of death. He says that if we are constantly recognising and rejoicing in those we love and acknowledging what we truly value and learn to accept that these people and things are not dependant on me and will not be destroyed by my death – then we can face death with greater equanimity. Take the masons who built this Cathedral for example. The ones who laid the foundation stones at the bottom of these pillars knew they would be dead by the time the last pinnacle was put in place on the tower. But, they must have loved and valued their work, and this place, so much that the fact that they would not see it finished, didn’t matter. And the fact that they probably trained up their sons and daughters in their craft meant that they knew that though they wouldn’t see the building finished their grandchildren would ….. and that was fine. I don’t want to pretend that this made life and death idyllic and easy for our forebears, simply that they must have been much more accepting of the risks involved in living and much more accepting that there comes a time when we all have to move over so that the next generation can take over.

Certainly Jesus’ reprimand to Peter in the gospel today has particular resonance because Jesus knew, and we now know, that his great work meant going to Jerusalem, suffering and dying, so that he could rise again so that we could all become an Easter people, a people of resurrection, afterwards. Of course we want to live, and, like Peter, we want the people we love to live as well. We should do everything we can to care for ourselves and each other, we should do all that we can to preserve life and the quality of life, but I think this story and the gospel in general, calls us never to deny or ignore death, not to see it always as a defeat or a failure or an offence against our human right to well-being and life.

I heard a radio programme this week in which two women from Ireland were talking about the interesting, funny and quirky nature of the culture from which they came. They spoke about the unusual way that some from the Irish culture frame a proposal of marriage. ‘Will you marry me?’ is considered way too banal and simplistic, the question asked, when you want to share the rest of your life with someone else, is ‘Will you be buried with my people?’ Not terribly romantic, but actually really helpful – the question is not just about living together, it is acknowledging at the outset, that living together will inevitably mean dying together. I thought this was rather beautiful and actually is an expression of the profoundly Christian belief, so beautifully and simply articulated by Paul in the middle of his beautiful passage in 1 Corinthians 13, ‘Love never ends’.

Rowan Williams concludes his article about death with these words which emphasise that we should be realistic and honest about death and, if faced in the context of love, value and relationships, and the belief that ‘Love never ends’, dying is not the end of the world!

‘A summons to faith, courage and energy in the face of death isn’t a call to heroics for the ego. It is an invitation to attend, to be absorbed in value, depth and beauty not our own. It is to recognise the gentle insistent pressure of a shared reality which tells us to make room for one another.’

Key to discipleship – The Revd Canon Maggie McLean

As I’ve discovered in recent months, all around York there are images of crossed keys.

This is most common around the Minster and connects with the Cathedral’s dedication.

Looking down on us from the East End is the carved figure of Peter, blessing the city. His symbol the keys which give access to heaven.

All of this is here because of the words heard in our Gospel today.

Jesus gives Peter a special role; the Church came to understand Peter as its first leader; and York’s dedication is seen to be linked to the first church here, founded by Peter’s successor the Pope.

Peter connects York to Rome and Rome is connected to Peter, who takes us to Jesus.

For some Christians the physical links of history matter a lot.

For other Christians this is less significant, and it is the Bible that first and foremost connects us with faith.

Perhaps, when it comes to Jesus, the route we take perhaps doesn’t matter too much, so long as the journey brings us to a living faith.

In the Gospels the disciples don’t all reach the same conclusions at the same time. None of us do.

We aren’t all the same and faith develops at its own pace.

In responding to Jesus’s question it’s Peter who takes the plunge.

He isn’t tentative; hesitant or vague. He makes his declaration without qualification. ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the Living God’.

Perhaps we tend to think about this passage as revealing about Jesus. But of course it’s very revealing about Peter.

We see in this exchange that Peter puts his full commitment behind his faith.

Peter is a rock of conviction; the disciple who commits his life.

As we go on to see, he is not without moments of doubt and disowning, but he remains fundamentally committed to Jesus – learning from his mistakes as much as his moments of triumph.

We all come to faith in different ways. In Peter we see that discipleship isn’t for the perfect but for the loving and the committed.

The followers of Jesus don’t have to get everything right but we are asked to learn from our mistakes.

Perhaps the pandemic has brought us new questions and maybe even doubts. It can be hard having less contact with our brothers and sisters in faith. We might feel that the way we shared our faith has changed or that in some way we’ve not lived as we hoped we would.

The example of Peter should bring us some comfort.

There will be days when we get it spectacularly right and days when everything seems to go wrong.

Days when we feel close to Christ and days when we wonder where our faith is leading.

Faith finds its own way.

From top disciple to being called Satan;

from unshakable faith to a skulking figure by the fire, denying Jesus time after time.

If Peter can get through so can we.

Let’s not pretend we’re better than we are. It’s Peter’s honesty and open failure that make him dear to Jesus.

In this example of an imperfect person, full of faith – failing, but always coming back to Jesus – we find the key to discipleship.

And in that, we should all feel encouraged to continue in our lives in the company of Jesus.