A Dialogue with Scripture – Canon Peter Collier QC, Cathedral Reader
Preacher: Canon Peter Collier QC, Cathedral Reader
Date: 21st August 2022 11am
Readings: Isaiah 58: 9b-14; Hebrews 12: 18-29; Luke 13: 10-17
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you, O lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
Personally, I get the sabbath stuff
As a young child – no games were allowed in our home on a Sunday, not even kicking a ball about in the garden.
That made it difficult at secondary school – I took up rowing and others in the crew wanted to train occasionally on a Sunday, but I really felt that was something I could not to do. We did reach a compromise – I would go with them occasionally if they came to church with me once.
At university I continued rowing but Sunday was not initially an issue there as the river was closed to college crews on a Sunday. But in my final year our college IV was asked to represent the university at the university championships – but the race was to be on a Sunday – it was not really such a big issue for me by then but I still had some feelings of guilt. I did row and we did win the gold medal.
So not quite Eric Liddle and Chariots of Fire!
But for me, how I should treat Sunday was an ongoing dialogue with the bible for a significant part of my early life.
The leaders of the synagogue had no need of such a dialogue – for them what you could and couldn’t do on the sabbath was clearly laid out in black and white. And their traditional interpretation had been passed down from one generation to the next and left no room for discussion.
But then Jesus turned up.
He regularly attended at synagogues and he was often asked to speak when he did; but he was also out and about, as we would say “in the public square”, where what he said and did often drew the attention of the synagogue leaders.
Luke records several instances where Jesus upset those leaders by breaking with their traditional understanding of what the bible required of the sabbath.
In Chapter 4 – he records Jesus in the synagogue at Capernaum casting a demon out of a man on a sabbath day.
In Chapter 6 – after the Pharisees had challenged him about rubbing grains of corn together in the corn field and eating them on the sabbath, he said “The Son of Man is Lord of the sabbath”; and Luke immediately follows that by telling us that on another sabbath day he went into a synagogue and healed a man with a withered hand, which made the scribes and Pharisees furious.
And when in Chapter 13 he was in another synagogue on another sabbath day he saw this woman who had been bent double for 18 years, and who was quite unable to stand up. So it is no surprise that he immediately told her that she is literally “fully freed” or “released” from her sickness. And then he laid his hands on her and immediately she stood up straight for the first time in 18 years.
The exchange that then followed with the leader of that synagogue is very instructive. The leader said that there were six days on which work should be done and so she should have come on one of those days to get cured but not on the sabbath.
Jesus answered him by referring back to Deuteronomy 5 where Moses repeated the 10 commandments. In Ex 20 Moses had said that the reason for keeping the sabbath holy – was that God had rested on the 7th day and so should we. But in Deuteronomy having said that the seventh day is a Sabbath to the Lord on which they should do no work, he went on to say that God had delivered them from slavery in Egypt, and that remembering that was what was they should be thinking about on the sabbath.
Why do I say that Jesus had Deuteronomy rather than Exodus in mind? Well, In Exodus Moses spoke about livestock not doing any work but in Deuteronomy rather than the single word “livestock” he says “your ox or your donkey, or any of your livestock”.
And Jesus challenged the synagogue leader by referring to his ox and donkey saying that he would untie them and set them free so they could get water on the sabbath, (a clear reminder of the Deuteronomy passage), so he says why won’t you let this woman be set free from 18 years of being tied up with her condition.
The sabbath was a day for remembering and celebrating the freedom and liberty that God had given them. If they adopted that mindset then it would inevitably challenge their traditional interpretation of the old testament law.
Our first reading from Isaiah 58 captures something of that same celebratory spirit. The issue for Isaiah was not the sabbath but fasting. He said that in God’s mind true fasting is not about following a rigid ritual procedure and then behaving very selfishly, oppressing the workers and fighting with one another. True fasting is about loosing the bonds of injustice, letting the oppressed go free, sharing bread with the hungry, and bringing the homeless poor into their homes. And Isaiah says that if they live like that, they will be like a watered garden, their ruins will be rebuilt, their streets will be restored, and their sabbaths will be a delight – he paints an inviting picture of the kingdom of God, as a joyful celebratory community where everyone flourishes.
At the beginning of his ministry we read in Lk 4 that Jesus had gone into the synagogue in Nazareth and announced that he had been sent “to proclaim release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”
And throughout his ministry he challenged all traditions and all interpretations of Scripture which tied up rather than set free. That was the core of his teaching about the kingdom of God.
And that gives me a clue as to the direction my dialogue with Scripture should always take me in.
Sunday wasn’t the only thing in the bible I had an issue with as a schoolboy. For me the seven days of creation were seven days of 24 hours. With the aid of booklets from the Evolutionary Protest Movement, I seem to remember it was called, I wrote an article in the 6th form magazine, which in my mind at least established clearly that Darwinian evolution was “fake news”. The headmaster noted on my report that term “his Philistine attitude towards science will be recorded on his UCCA form.”
Since then an understanding of science has also become a part of my dialogue with Scripture, and of course that has changed my schoolboy view about how to understand Genesis 1.
And there have been other issues where I have engaged in dialogue with the Bible as to what it meant for those who initially wrote and read it and now what it means for me today. I am sure it will be lifelong journey.
Last week at this service Canon Michael spoke about some of the contemporary issues that the bishops had been discussing at the Lambeth conference. There were several but the one that caught the headlines was their discussions about the different interpretations of what the Bible says about gender and sexuality. Catriona picked up on the same topic at Evensong last week and spoke of the need to look at our own understandings of the interweaving issues of identity, gender and sexuality.
And here we are again. And I make no apology for that. Because although the sabbath and the bible, and science and the bible have at times in the past been critical issues for me, and there have been others along the way, they are no longer.
And it probably won’t surprise you to know that I have had to engage in a dialogue with scripture on these very contemporary issues and it is a dialogue that continues. And the meeting tomorrow night will help us to begin to look at some of these issues together.
Just as I needed to let science in on my dialogue with Genesis ch 1, so I need to let it in on this dialogue also. But for me perhaps more importantly I need to allow this dialogue to be shaped by the very challenge that Jesus put to the synagogue leader – have you not understood that my kingdom is a place where captives are released, and the oppressed go free. A kingdom where what Isaiah foresaw becomes a reality – a city is rebuilt, it is a safe and happy place to live in and where God’s people celebrating the sabbath together was a delight.
I hope that with me you long for this cathedral and each church represented here today to be just that sort of place and community.
Amen.
A Need for Comfort – Canon Peter Collier QC, Cathedral Reader
Preacher: Canon Peter Collier QC, Cathedral Reader
Date: 7th August 2022 Evensong
Readings: Isaiah 11:10–12:6; 2 Corinthians 1: 1-22
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be pleasing to you, O lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen
I expect most of us recall what our childhood comfort blanket or soft toy was. Some of us still have them. I have a small and very well chewed bear. I think I am the only person who looking at him knows what he once was. Many years on we have probably each developed different ways of finding comfort when we feel overwhelmed and in need of comfort. For some it may be a stiff drink, for some it is comfort-eating; for some getting stuck into a book or magazine, for others distracting themselves with TV or a movie. None of which are probably as effective as the childhood comfort item.
Even as I talk about comfort you may be thinking about the last time you experienced a need for comfort? It may have been a bereavement, a piece of bad news, a hard time at work or still struggling with after-effects of mental illness, or the long recovery we are all making from Covid. What helped you? Where did you get comfort – in many case is was probably someone who came alongside and had some understanding of what you were in the midst of.
The apostle Paul in his letter of which we read the opening part this evening, speaks of his need for comfort. He had really gone through the mill. We don’t know what it was. But he speaks about affliction, about something that had happened in Asia where he was utterly and unbearably crushed to the extent that he despaired of life itself, he speaks about whatever had happened feeling like a sentence of death and he speaks of being in deadly peril.
We can speculate about what it might have been. Many have done. It might have been physical illness. Whatever it was it had certainly affected his mental health and his general sense of wellbeing. It may have been physical assault and injury. He may have been faced with criminal charges and prosecution, and perhaps experience of imprisonment. We do know that when he was in Ephesus, such was the impact of the gospel on people as they turned from the worship of the local goddess – Diana –the local tradesmen began to suffer, Paul was arrested and in deep trouble. Prof Tom Wright suggests that it may be that Luke downplays what actually happened to him so as to keep the lid on things.
Whatever it was, it was very real and it had a profound effect on Paul in the ways that he describes, particularly he admits that it affected his mental wellbeing.
The Paul who writes this letter to the Corinthian church seems a very different persona from the author of the first letter to that same church. The first letter as you know is full of confidence and clear instructions. That wonderful passage in Chapter 15 where he speaks about the resurrection of Jesus from the dead and all that that means for us seems some little distance from Paul’s feelings as he pens this letter.
However, he tells us not only of his great need for comfort or consolation but where and how he found it.
10 times in 5 verses he uses the word for comfort which is translated in different ways in our various translations. The NRSV which was read this afternoon speaks of consolation; the KJV – speaks of comfort but also consolation; the NIV –uses comfort; and the Msge – uses a quite different phrase – coming alongside us.
You will know that in some places in the NT the word for comfort implies strength, or strengthening.
But the word Paul uses here has at its root that idea of coming alongside – it is the word from which we get the word paraclete – which you may know is used about the Holy Spirit as the one who comes alongside us, speaks for us and represents us.
But is more than just coming alongside. Tom Wright says “…. there is the sense of making a strong appeal to someone, … The idea is of someone being alongside another person, speaking words which bring about a change in their mood and their situation, giving courage, hope, direction, making a difference, altering the way someone feels about whatever they are facing.”
So that is what has happened for Paul. He has had that kind of comfort, and consolation. He is now in a different place. God has done it. But how?
The answer is found in what he calls the sufferings of Christ.
The ultimate suffering Christ experienced was on the cross. But he suffered much more than that. Paul speaks about the abundance of his sufferings. In another place in the NT we read that Jesus was tempted in every way like us. There is no temptation I now face that Jesus did not face in some shape or form. So we learn here that there is no suffering I suffer which he has not suffered already.
We know from the gospel accounts about his experience of suffering.
He was misunderstood
At times he was anxious
He knew loneliness and isolation
He was misunderstood by his family and sensed that he was separated from them at times
He knew also about rejection
Despair
Physical pain and suffering
Emotional pain
The fear of facing death
Death itself, and an agonizing one at that
So we have that abundance of Christ’s sufferings. And just as he died for us, so he bore all that suffering in abundance for us.
So now I can come to him as the one who suffered, and know that I am in the presence of one who has suffered like me and more so.
And that gives me comfort and consolation and it can bring change.
We know this – that just as he died for us, he also rose for us. And as he rose for us, he has now ascended into heaven and is at his father’s right hand waiting to welcome us home.
Paul writes to another young church and speaks about knowing Christ and the power of his resurrection and sharing the fellowship of his sufferings – Phil 3 – and we are able now to look at suffering through the lens of the resurrection
Just as all of that is able to change us, so we are able to offer that life changing possibility to others. Contact with changed people brings change.
We are people who have been much affected in the last two and a half years through the covid pandemic. All around us are people who in addition to whatever else they were suffering have almost certainly had that amplified by the pandemic and probably had additional suffering as well.
The Message version says – “he comes alongside us as we go through hard times, and before you know it, he brings us alongside someone else who is going through hard times so that we can be there for that person just as God was there for us.”
So there is good news for us this afternoon – whatever we are going through, however we are suffering, if we come close to Jesus in his word, in the sacrament and in prayer we will find the one who has suffered like us and for us and who will be with us sharing our suffering.
And as we come to him as always we find he has come to us
And this will change us.
But the good news for the world this afternoon is that as we move among people – our family, our friends, our neighbours, and colleagues, we can be instruments of change for them too.
Amen
The Reality of things hoped for – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Preacher: Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Title of sermon: The Reality of things hoped for
Date/time/service: Sunday 7th August
Readings: Genesis 15:1-6, Hebrews 11: 1-3, 8-16, Luke 12:32-40.
From the letter to the Hebrews: Faith is the assurance of things hoped for and the conviction of things unseen.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen.
To use the words of Oscar Wilde, ‘we are all in gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars’. Are you an optimist or a pessimist? I want to make the case today, that to be a Christian is to be a faithful optimist, even if, in the day to day course of events, you are a bit of an Eeyore, or a Victor Meldrew, or just occasionally despairing about the state of the world which we inhabit. To be a Christian is to be someone who is hopeful about the future.
To be a Christian, to be a faithful optimist, is to live in the reality of this world with an eye to heaven, looking at the stars, one might say. Or as it says in the letter to the Hebrews, ‘desiring a better country’, a heavenly one, looking for a city with eternal foundations.
When God said to the childless Abraham, that he would be the father of a people as numerous as the stars of heaven and the sand on the seashore, that required quite literally a leap of faith on his part- it was an exercise in faithful imagination. Abraham must have questioned: How can I possibly get from here to there?
One of the foremost New Testament scholars of our times, is the American Harold Attridge. He suggests that a better translation of the first verse of Chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews is this: Faith is the reality, of things hoped for, and the proof of things unseen.
This means that this isn’t just a Christian platitude telling us to cheer up and hope for the best- this isn’t blind optimism, but faithful optimism. This is about God’s reality breaking in to our reality, this is about our faith and what it can do, this is about our faith becoming a living proof of the coming kingdom and a sign of our journey towards it.
We might describe the writer of the letter to the Hebrews as a faithful optimist. Someone who has a view of the world shaped by the resurrection of Christ. Someone who, after the promises made in Christ and through Christ, looks to the future in a way which shapes the present. This is someone who can imagine the cities and kingdoms of God whilst starting the practical work of building them now.
Faith gives us a broader perspective, a greater context in which to situate ourselves, it gives us a narrative to be part of, something beyond us, a fabric to be sown into, a family in which to be grafted, part of a history which is not yet finalised. And at those times when our vision is limited, when our perspective is diminished, and when the world seems to be closing in upon us, when we want to crawl back under the duvet, faith shows us a better kingdom and a heavenly city which is being prepared for us, and we are called to lay down a stone towards that endeavour.
Think for a moment about how this cathedral was built: the church in which we sit was not completed for hundreds of years, those who began building it, those who laid the foundation stone, would not see its completion, but they nevertheless thought this project was worth beginning and working towards and they committed to making their vision a concrete reality, well, a limestone reality. This is a proof of things unseen.
Think about how our actions today might be affecting the lives of those who come after us, how can we build right now, a better world for tomorrow? What are we building in faith? How can we make our vision of a better world for all people, a reality today, and how can what we do be a living proof of that aspiration? We daily pray for peace and the alleviation of poverty and prejudice as if they were a long way away, what can faith do, to make these things a reality today?
We live in troubling times, and even the joy of England winning a European Championship hasn’t been able to completely overcome our woes in relation to climate change, Brexit, wars and rumours of wars, a looming recession and the appointment of the next prime minister.
Lest anyone should accuse Christians of being so heavenly minded that we are of no earthly use, we might shape our earthbound lives in a way which accords with our ‘faith’ in God’s promises for all people. Faith is the reality of things hoped for, and the proof of things unseen.
Jesus, always one for practical advice, suggests to his disciples that they might live in the world but not of the world. That we might wear our possessions lightly, because where our treasure is, there our heart will be also. That perspective on life can help us be generous and active for the gospel and gospel values here and now.
We are given the vision to see that there is a greater purpose, a deeper meaning, a grander vocation for this bundle of flesh we are called to inhabit. Instead of looking downcast, the gospel calls us to be dressed for action with our lamps lit, like those who are waiting for their master to return from the wedding banquet at an unexpected hour.
We live our lives then, as faithful optimists, in the light of the one who overcame even death itself, who rose from the dead and brought new life where there had only been pain, and hatred: the living one who completely transformed the perspective from which we human beings experience the world.
That should give us confidence to begin making our present reality, a reality of things hoped for in Christ- where good news is brought to poor, the humble are raised up, the captives are set free, the blind recover their sight.
In his letter to the Corinthians, St Paul writes If there is no resurrection from the dead, then Christ has not been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain.
Our faith is a reality for us, because we believe that Christ has been raised from the dead and Christ will come again at an unexpected hour. That hope should surely make anything possible, and give us all cause for faithful optimism in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen.
God who will not give up on us – Canon Missioner Maggie McLean
Preacher: Canon Missioner Maggie McLean
Title of sermon: God who will not give up on us
Date/time/service: Sunday 24 July 2022, Choral Evensong, 4pm
What on earth is going on in the book of Genesis?
‘In those days, the Lord said… I must go down and see… I mean to find out’.
So, we might wonder, here is a God who doesn’t know it all. A God who needs to be present and among people in order to ‘find out’. It’s the same God who decides, earlier in Genesis, to ‘walk in the cool of the evening’. I’m quite sure that after last week we can all sympathise with anyone, even God, not wanting to get too hot. But all this might seem rather peculiar if you believe in a God who is omniscient and unchanging. Why would God find the cool of the day any more bearable, or need to ‘get up and go down’ in order to find out?
Perhaps the idea of Genesis is not only that creation begins, but that the human understanding of God also starts a long journey.
In one sense the casting of God as a human character is fully understandable. How else might we talk about God, describe God or relate to God? There is even that hint of kinship from the start of Genesis, that God formed us male and female ‘in his image’.
Like the recent Mystery Plays here in York, God is a character in the story – a dazzling person who commands and argues; condemns and saves.
As Derek Browning, Morningside Parish Church puts it:
‘God is surprising and subversive; God is angry and gentle; God is cool and fiery. God is more than we can ever imagine. In the face of our persistent unfaithfulness, God is persistently faithful. God is no divine doormat, but the relentless, restless Lover who, because of us, despite us, will not give up on us’.
In other words, God isn’t another human being – God is far beyond our imagining and may be experienced and encountered in contrasting ways. However, it is very understandable that in order to talk about our relationship with God we reach for examples of human conduct. After all, as we heard in our Gospel this morning, it’s what Jesus does.
In Luke’s Gospel Jesus appears to tell his hearers that it’s never a bad idea to pester God. If you don’t get what you need on first asking, keep asking. Persist. Even, perhaps, become a nuisance. Because, although God might be fed up with you, God might give you your daily bread simply because even God sometimes wants a bit of peace and quiet.
It feels to me that in this teaching Jesus is communicating something absolutely vital to his mission. What we’re not asked for in this parable is sacrifice. The person who petitions brings nothing other than their need in the hope of generosity. This isn’t about burnt offerings to a distant Deity. It’s about honest relationship. Something that becomes possible because, in the text from Colossians, any debt that we had to pay has been cancelled.
Little wonder that this teaching follows the Lord’s Prayer. Not everyone finds it easy to begin an approach to God as ‘Our Father’. Many of us haven’t always had easy times with our parents. However, it seems to me that the key aspect of this prayer is that it begins in the language of close relationship. It is a prayer that places us back in Eden, with a God who walks beside us in the cool of the day. A God we converse with on familiar terms.
The Bible offers us a wealth of stories about how people experienced God. Perhaps like our art installation below the crossing, these are countless reflections and glimpses of light – some that catch our attention and others that seem almost invisible. But together there is a pattern of movement, a direction of travel, and an impetus to which each individual piece of glass contributes.
The people of God, the Church – us together here today – bring our own pieces of reflection, lit by a God we have known at different times and in different places. Sometimes a God who has been near us, and at other times a God more distant. As we focus today on the most familiar prayer of the Christian Church I hope that we are encouraged to hear once again a call to be in relationship with this God: ‘the relentless, restless Lover who, because of us, despite us, will not give up on us’.
Amen.
Keep Going and Keep Singing! – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Preacher: Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Title of sermon: Keep Going and Keep Singing!
Date/time/service: Sunday 17 July 2022, Choral Evensong, 4pm
Readings: Psalm 121, Isaiah 52:7-10, Ephesians 5:15-20
From St Augustine’s Sermon number 256:
“So, then, let us sing, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure, but in order to lighten our labours. You should sing as travellers do—sing, but continue your journey. Don’t be lazy, but sing to make your journey more enjoyable. Sing, but keep going. What do I mean by keep going? Asks St Augustine: Keep on making progress. This progress, however, must be in virtue. If you make progress, you will be continuing your journey, but be sure that your progress is in virtue, true faith and right living. Sing then, but keep going.”
It’s been a busy couple of weeks, so it was tempting to just read out the whole of St Augustine’s 256th sermon this afternoon, but I do want to say something of my own on this special occasion.
St Augustine seems to be suggesting that when you sing, you never stand still. You sing as you journey, you sing as you walk onwards. Of course, for our choristers, and choral scholars and Vicars Choral, they have been singing from one particular place for a number of years, in their stall, in this Cathedral Church, in the famous Camera Cantorum. It may appear that they have been standing still, but of course, they have been journeying too.
They have been travellers, singing as they walk on their journey of life. Our choristers have been singing as they have grown and matured, from little acorns of musical potential to the mighty oaks of music we see today, and our Choral Scholars and Vicars Choral have grown daily in virtue, filled neither with wine nor ale, but with the spirit! This community of singers, has sung psalms, hymns and spiritual songs together as they have moved school and navigated a global pandemic, we’re so glad we are today able to properly Read-out those choristers who finished their time in the Choir in the midst of lockdown. This community has continued to sing as their own lives have been changed around them, as the world has changed around them, and they have sung not only to sweeten their own labours, but also to sweeten the toil of others and be a balm for those who have needed it, lifting the saddest hearts through their song.
In his 256th sermon, Augustine also said this: Even here, among the dangers, among the trials and temptations of this life, both by others and by ourselves let alleluia be sung. Over the past two and a half years, this choir, one body of many members, has sung online, they have sung as a single voice, in groups of three, six, and then spaced two metres apart, they have sung through all these challenges like sentinels lifting up their voices, like the ruins of Jerusalem being rebuilt, they have sung Alleluia, the song of new life even in the face of challenge.
Whatever else today is, it’s a marker not only on your musical journey, but on your life’s journey when we pause and look back and give thanks for all that has been, and say yes to all that lies ahead. There will probably be many other moments like this in your life, sweet farewells and new beginnings, and at those moments let your heart be steady with the rhythm of prayer, let the words you have sung be inscribed on your heart, sing to make your journey enjoyable and remember your friends will walk with you, wherever you go, let what you have learned here be a constant and help keep you going.
You will have learned many things during your time here, you will have learned some of the most awesome music ever written, you will know more music by Sir Edward Bairstow than any chorister in the land, you will know the psalms almost off by heart, you will know how an organ works – which is seriously a life skill, you will have learned the art of discipline and perseverance, teamwork and leadership, you will have learnt how to use your own voice, you will have learned how to perform at the highest level in the presence of a red light, and hopefully you will have learned what a church is and what it does, so wherever you go in the world you will always feel at home in these holy places.
This is the moment when we can all give thanks for your part in the most amazing human endeavour which is to bring heaven to earth, and raise earth to heaven through song. And while you have been singing, the earth has been turning, and it will continue to turn, so wherever you go whether going out or coming in, we pray the song you have been part of will give you the strength to keep on going.
And then, at the end of all things, when all our labours here are done, we will all sing together again with angels and archangels and the whole company of heaven in one triumphant song of praise to the glory of the one and only living God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Amen
For your tomorrow, we gave our today – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Preacher: Revd Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Title of Sermon: For your tomorrow, we gave our today
Date/Time: Thursday 7 July 2022/ 11am
‘When You Go Home, Tell Them Of Us And Say,
For Your Tomorrow, We Gave Our Today.’ Kohima Epitaph
I want to dwell for a moment on the words of the Kohima Epitaph: For your tomorrow, we gave our today. These seven words might help us understand the connection between past, present and future and the relationship between thanksgiving and remembering, the relationship between war and peace, the relationship between freedom and service, and the relationship between death and life.
For your tomorrow, we gave our today, articulates the voices of the many who gave their own liberty and life in the service of a future that they would never see. They gave everything in hope of a future which would be better for everyone.
On this 78th Anniversary of the battles of Kohima and Imphal, we remember again the service and the sacrifices made in the pursuit of freedom and peace, by both soldier and citizen in that place. We are here because we know that the impact of war lasts for lifetimes, we stand here 78 years after the battle of Kohima knowing the impact that war had on the Naga communities and on the Veterans who came home, and their families and communities. We stand here today knowing the cost of war, and the lives lost. We are here to remember.
We are here 78 years after the battle of Kohima, knowing that war rages again across our world: in Europe, cities are flattened, cultures are destroyed, families broken, lives lost. Man’s inhumanity to man, knows no bounds. We are here living in the very future which was fought for 78 years ago, as new threats cast a brooding shadow over our world. What have we learnt? What might we do today to ensure that the tomorrow of generations to come is peaceful and constructive? How do we continue to remember?
We can be lulled into the idea that remembering, is a passive verb. This is wrong. Remembering is always active and it provokes those who enter into it, into action. To re-member is to rebuild and reconstruct and reform, it is our response to those who gave their today for our tomorrow.
Remembering is more than an exercise of the mind. Remembering has to be made real and physical through our lips and in our lives. Remembering requires something of those who remember. We stand here today to remember, this service being part of that active response, and hopefully the continuation of remembering in our daily lives, the kind of remembering which builds a better tomorrow, from the sacrifices of our today.
In our broken world this ‘remembering’ applies to the sacrifices of our today, which require us even now, to work for peace. The sacrifices of our today might recognise our planet is being shaken by climate change and the effects of that will affect the most vulnerable in our world most severely, including our Naga brothers and sisters. The sacrifices of today, for us, might mean challenging all that is unjust and merciless in our world, the systems and structures which exclude, blame, vilify and persecute others for who they are or what they believe. The sacrifices of our today might mean working, once again, for peace and mercy, not just here at home but throughout our world and on behalf of all peoples.
Ultimately, remembering, in its truest, and most authentic form, is always as act of love. To remember is to love, and to live out that love in whatever way we can, in everything that we think, or speak or do, today, and tomorrow, and for the tomorrows of those yet to come. If called upon, may we be ready to say, to the children of the future, for your tomorrow, we gave our today.
We can only give of our todays through the power of God’s all giving love, which binds all things together: for neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Amen.
Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Preacher: Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Title of sermon: Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe
Date/time/service: Sunday 3 July 2022, Choral Eucharist, 11am
Readings: Habbakuk 2:1-4, Ephesians 2:19-end, John 20:24-29
It seems to me, there can often be quite a journey, quite a distance between seeing and believing: a whole world of human responses which range from absolute certainty to faithful doubt, to complete denial. We have, quite possibly, been conditioned to affirm only what we see with our eyes, and if something cannot be seen or touched physically, it might not really exist.
We live in a scientific age, when to be real, to exist, something has to be measured, quantified, observed, analyzed. But speak to any scientist at the top of their game, and they will tell you that Science in its purest form, is often far from a certainty. In any scientific endeavor there are worlds of possibilities too, layers upon layers of things which are not seen and not understood, hypothesis, theories, unknowns yet to be fathomed. Max Plank, the Nobel Prize winning physicist who developed Quantum Theory, said this:
“Anybody who has been seriously engaged in scientific work of any kind realizes that over the entrance to the gates of the temple of science, are written these words: ‘Ye must have faith.’”
We cannot be surprised that in the face of a world changing event, when the seemingly impossible came to pass, Thomas the Disciple, wanted tangible evidence. Perhaps he is an architype of modern humanity? We who have been formed by the enlightenment and the march of modernity can surely sympathise with Thomas? It’s no wonder that Thomas felt he needed to reach out and touch the risen Jesus, in order to prove to himself, that all that he had heard and seen was true, that Jesus really was alive. Wouldn’t you want some evidence too?
‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in his side, I will not believe.’ Thomas, like so many others since, thought that physical evidence was the basis for belief, that faith was measurable and simply based on quantifiable and observable facts.
Let me rewind for a moment. When I was confirmed as a teenager, my vicar bought me a wonderful book about the archaeology of the Holy Land: The Oxford Bible Atlas. I still have it. This book with its maps and images, set me researching all sorts of things relating to the physical landscape which Jesus inhabited and the artifacts that he may have left behind. I should admit I was probably also influenced by Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade. At around the same time, The Turin Shroud, a linen cloth associated with the burial of Jesus, was being carbon dated. This cloth was said to have an imprint of the face and body of Christ himself- a shadow of a crucified man, even showing his wounds. I was thrilled at the prospect of a proof for faith.
At the time, I asked a teacher what difference it would make to her faith if the Turin shroud turned out to be real? I was so excited by this possibility: if we had physical, scientific evidence that we could see and touch. She said, quite rightly, that it wouldn’t make any difference one way or the other. She didn’t need evidence. She didn’t need facts. She had faith.
I was kind of caught short by her response and it’s stayed with me ever since, and I now recognize her words as the response of a wise and faithful christian. She didn’t need evidence because she was walking by faith, rather than by sight. It turned out by the way, that the Turin Shroud was carbon dated to the 12th or 13th century, but that didn’t detract and doesn’t detract, from its power as an object of devotion and the focus of faith.
Some years later I was lucky enough to go to the Holy Land and see the place where Jesus had walked upon this earth, the pictures from my Oxford Bible Atlas were right there in front of my eyes, and I have to confess, that as I stood there looking at the dusty landscape, and feeling a little tearful, the words of Jesus bubbled up within me ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe’. Here I was, two thousand years after Christ was in this place, believing not by sight, but by faith; stood in Jerusalem, not because of any physical quantifiable evidence or proofs, but because faith had brought me there.
Read todays gospel very carefully, and you will notice that Thomas doesn’t actually put his hand in Jesus side. In the end, he doesn’t need physical evidence. He is overcome by the love of God standing before him. Thomas has been overwhelmed by faith, he is standing before life itself. In the second letter to the Corinthians, St Paul says that the Christian community walks by faith and not by sight. Seeing is not believing, believing is seeing the world in a new way. In the letter to the Hebrews, we are told that faith is the assurance of things hoped for, and the conviction of things not seen.
Thomas’s response to Jesus form the climax of John’s gospel. He proclaims, ‘My Lord, and My God.’ It is from Thomas’s mouth that the truth of the Christian faith is spoken: Jesus is the Lord of all creation, the living God. And Thomas the Doubter, becomes Thomas, the Believer. Thomas the Believer, the name he is given in the Eastern Orthodox Church.
You probably haven’t heard of the 17th Century priest Thomas Fuller, but he is famous for the phrase: ‘seeing is believing’. The only thing is, that’s only half of what he said: Seeing is believing, but feeling is the truth, is the quote in full. There are things beyond what we can see and touch, and measure and quantify. A world of the heart where faith, hope and love abide. The truth is, the Gospel must be experienced in order to be believed. Faith, just like hope and love, cannot be bought off the shelf, it takes much more work and will always gather in its wake, all the doubts, all the unknowns, the things not seen, the things hoped for.
The Community created around Jesus is not always going to have all the right answers pre-packaged, or oven-ready, it’s not always going to be in control of things, the community of faith will measure the world differently, not in grams or indeed ounces, but by love given and received; faith felt but not quantified; hope searched for, but never contained or restricted.
If we are to take anything from the witness of Thomas the Apostle, perhaps we are to welcome our doubts and journey through them, happily exploring them in the land between seeing and believing until we find the truth. The most dangerous thing in the world, is thinking we have all the answers and silencing the questions that need to be asked. And as has been said many times before, doubt isn’t the enemy of faith, but certainty is. When certainty holds sway, faith stops.
The church doesn’t have all the answers, but we do, as people of faith hold on to the mystery and look to what is beyond our comprehension. God is over all things, seen and unseen. In this eucharist, for a fleeting moment we hold on to that mystery of faith in our hands, we are invited to touch the body and blood of Christ, taking the bread and tasting the wine, and look at the world with the eyes of the heart.
One day these sacraments, these outward and visible symbols of an inward and spiritual grace, will cease and we will no longer need to touch or see, because we will know. We will stand before Christ with his glorious wounds, and we will fall to our knees and join with Thomas and all the saints, proclaiming: My Lord and My God. Through the doubting of Thomas, Jesus gives us his blessing, a blessing which has sustained the community of faith since its beginning and continues to sustain us today: Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet have come to believe.
Amen
Divine Subversion – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Preacher: Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Title of sermon: Divine Subversion
Date/time/service: Sunday 26 June 2022,Choral Evensong
Readings: Genesis 27:1-40, Mark 6:1-6
I stand here in some trepidation because as a Preacher, when faced with that reading from Genesis about Jacob and Esau, who was ‘an hairy man’, one can never hope to exceed the archetypal and wan Church of England Sermon preached by Alan Bennet in the 1960’s! So I won’t compete, but I will use the very same reading as the basis for what I want to say today.
Just over 100 years ago, Parliament gave approval for women over 30 to vote. The right to vote was also extended to working class men; in what was known as the Representation of the People Act. Until then, only wealthy male landowners and the aristocracy were entitled to democracy. No offence is meant, but I suspect not many of us here today would have had the right to vote at that time. I’m not going to speak about politics this evening, though there is plenty to speak about, but I am going to speak about who gets to be heard in our world: who has rights and who doesn’t; and contrast that with the subversive-ness of the Gospel, which undermines our human conventions, expectations and norms, and enables us to question in the light of Christ, who gets given rights and power, and who doesn’t.
At the time of Isaac, Rebekah, Esau and Jacob, the order of the world was mainly governed by predictable people holding power and authority. Within families and tribes, the first born son was always the privileged, rightful heir, the person on whom the future was built. Younger sons and daughters did not even figure, however much wisdom they had, and were cut off from the natural legacies of power passed on from one generation to another. In the book of Genesis, we see Jacob, the youngest son, and not by much because he was a twin, grasping at the heel of his older brother Esau, even in the womb, to try and subvert the expected privileges of power in his world which would be bestowed upon the first born male. Later in life, as we hear tell this evening: Jacob deceives his own father to take the birth right of Esau, gain his Father’s blessing and so ultimately fulfil God’s plan.
When reading this story before, I have always felt naturally sympathetic to poor Esau, robbed of what was ‘rightfully’ his, but I’ve been trying to fathom why God chose to work through Jacob, the young pretender. Was I missing something and looking at this story with the eyes of predictable privilege?
The story of Jacob is, in some ways, a story which repeats itself over and over again throughout the scriptures if we are prepared to look beyond the usual pattern of disseminated powers and patriarchies. It seems God’s will and God’s way often take a different course, choosing the unexpected or atypical, the weak, the small, the ignored, the youngest, the poor, the women, the children, the outcast, the foreigner and the widow, in fact, all those who have traditionally had no voice in society, and certainly no rights.
St Paul offers: God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong (1 Corinthians). The last will be first and the first will be last, we hear Jesus teach. Look for divine subversion and it can be found throughout the scriptures, and throughout the life and teaching of Christ, if we have eyes to see and can perhaps learn to see beyond our own privilege.
Moses is abandoned and then rescued from the bulrushes and goes on to lead his people; David, the youngest son of Jesse is chosen as the one to be anointed. Mary, an unmarried teenager is chosen by God to be the mother of his Son. Matthew the Tax Collector is called to be a disciple, these are just a few examples of unpredictable outcomes, by human standards.
The Gospel of Mark recounts that Jesus the Carpenter, the son of Mary and the brother of James and Joses, Judas and Simon is the Messiah of God and of course he is rejected by his own community because he does not conform to what they were expecting a Messiah to be. In his own humanity, Christ subverts the prejudices of humanity itself and points us to our better nature. Christ then tells us stories of prodigal sons, widow’s mites, banquets to which those on the streets are invited, children who inherit the Kingdom of heaven, untouchables who are healed, sinners who are forgiven and restored.
In Hebrew, the name Jacob can mean “to supplant, circumvent, assail, overreach”. What if the person of Jacob, represents all those who long to be heard and recognised and given a voice? What if he represents those who strive to over-reach the stereotypes and restrictions laid upon them by the privileged of their society? What if Jacob represents all those who struggle to supplant and circumvent the oppressive power structures of their world, and assail every form of injustice?
Perhaps we can all be more attentive and alert to our human proclivity to revert to the predictable patterns of power: in the church, in our communities and in our world. Let us observe who holds the power, who speaks, and whose voice is erased or ignored. Let us observe who sits in the seats of honour, who is always at the table, who is always given a platform or indeed a pulpit and what happens to those who ask the difficult questions, or try to give voice to the voiceless or try to shake up the way the world works? Who gets the rights and who doesn’t?
The work of the gospel will continue until these imbalances are reconciled, and Mary sings so beautifully and so clearly in the words of the Magnificat of a God who will scatter the proud in the imagination of their hearts, put down the mighty from their seat, exalt the humble and meek, fill the hungry with good things and send the rich empty away. For many in our world today, the words of Mary and the Gospel of Jesus Christ, might well herald an uncomfortable reckoning.
We should not be surprised that all of this is a struggle, there is always a wrestling between powers and for power, but as Christians we are children of this subversive God and called to recognise the unjust structures in our world which need divine disruption and challenge. Jacob goes on to wrestle with an angel, until he is given a new name ‘Israel’ which means- the one who struggles and contends, the one who wrestles for recognition and so becomes a light for all people and bring salvation to the ends of the earth.
As we observe all these things and as we meditate on who holds power in our world this week, whether dictated by birth, gender, class, wealth, race, sexuality or education, perhaps we might pray for a little divine subversion to gently disrupt and deceive our human systems of power and privilege, and have faith that it will, according to the promises of Christ and just as it has always done if we have eyes to see.
To the glory of the one and only living God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Present day Taboos – Canon Missioner Maggie McLean
Preacher: Canon Maggie McLean, Missioner
Title of sermon: Present day Taboos
Date/time/service: Sunday 19 June 2022
Today at Evensong we have readings full of women who are the subjects and agents of action. So I’ve no idea why I was asked to preach!
There is Abraham determined that his son will marry one of his own people, rather than a Canaanite from where he was living. In seeking this potential wife for his son, Abraham isn’t interested in compulsion: ‘if the woman is not willing to follow you, then you will be free from this oath’. However, the priority for Abraham is to secure his ‘blood-line’. To have descendants that ensure the continuity of the Jewish people.
The second reading recounts a remarkable set of events that highlight the unique character of Jesus as a Rabbi. Firstly, as a teacher touched by someone ritually unclean and, secondly, as a rabbi who risks further impurity by holding the hand of someone who has died.
It is highly likely that, at the time, contact between this woman and a Rabbi would have rendered Jesus impure. In the Biblical text there is a strong suggestion that the woman’s action ‘was seen as crossing the boundaries of decency’[i]. However, Mark’s main focus in the account lies in the illness rather than the impurity. The woman comes to Jesus in a state of despair, having sought the help of doctors. Her condition has worsened over 12 years, and all her resources are now spent. Almost certainly aware that she will make Jesus impure, she approaches him from behind, attempting to be unseen as she reaches out to touch him.
Today we may not have any particular sense of ritual impurity. We might see ourselves in an enlightened age that’s beyond such things. But that doesn’t mean we have no sense of ‘taboo’. There are many topics which are tacitly excluded from public debate or polite conversation. Often these will relate to perfectly natural bodily functions that are still, all too often, shrouded in shame.
It seems remarkable that it is only in recent years that the subject of period poverty has achieved political significance. Hidden and silent, the topic has long been a reality for women across the world but has failed to get the attention it deserves. Of course, it is not the same situation as the bleeding of the woman who turns to Jesus in her desperation. But it is a topic that is taboo. Undoubtedly it is also a situation where gender is critical to the story; and it’s a Gospel account that concerns both need and poverty.
One of the people honoured in the recent Jubilee Birthday Honours is Tina Leslie. Based here in Yorkshire, Tina was awarded the MBE by the Queen for founding the Freedom4Girls charity in 2016. It’s a charity that works to improve access to sanitary products for women in the UK, Uganda and Kenya. Here at York Minster we are delighted to support Yorkits, a local Rotary charity spearheaded by a member of our congregation – Issy Sanderson – which makes and supplies feminine hygiene kits to a huge number of countries around the world, including refugee camps in Europe.
I can only imagine that as the cost of living crisis deepens it will be the taboo topics; the minority groups and the poorest in our society, who will struggle most to access the basic necessities of life. We hear on the news about families choosing between heating and food – but I’m sure that other choices will be made, and sometimes those will involve women’s fundamental health and dignity.
One of the most moving and remarkable things about the ministry of Jesus is that he wasn’t limited by the conventions of his time. In order to heal people; to save people; and to love people, he crossed a line, time after time. While onlookers may have been aghast at a Rabbi being touched by a woman who was bleeding, there can be no impurity in Jesus – and he cannot be made impure. Instead, his presence transforms suffering into wholeness. When the Lord of life takes the hand of a young girl who has died, risking his own purity, it is death that is driven out.
Sometimes, when we touch on difficult topics, we might feel uncomfortable. We might want to stand back and look away. But we need to remember that this is where Christ walks. This is where Christ stands with arms open to the suffering of the world. Our discipleship, our calling, is to be with him – and to transcend any barrier that prevents us being in his Kingdom.
How do I love thee? – Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor
Sermon preached by Canon Victoria Johnson, Precentor, on Trinity Sunday 2022
Readings Proverbs 8. 1–4, 22–31, Romans 5. 1–5, John 14. 23–29
Title: How do I love thee?
‘How do I love thee, let me count the ways!’.
So wrote the poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning, ostensibly about the love she had for her husband. But for Barrett Browning, a faithful Christian with a lively theological mind, the many forms of love which we experience in our earthbound life, were consummated most fully through the love of God, the love from which all other loves come.
Of course, there is an irony in the first line of the poem because it supposes we can count the ways that we love, but we can never really count the ways can we? Barrett Browing knew that, and I think we all know that too- Love is beyond numbers, and beyond measure and sometimes beyond even our understanding.
In our reading from the Book of Proverbs, we see a representation of wisdom, a name assigned to Christ, designated as a co-worker and a delight to God the creator. There at the beginning of all things there was a relationship, a community of love, which delighted in the human race, a human race always destined to be loved and have the capacity to love in return. But if we’re not counting the ways– how do we human beings show that love for which we were made? How do we express, how do we show that we love God? How do others know that we love God?
Is it through great works, or through a keen intellect? Is through knowledge, or charity? Is it through status or effort? Are we rewarded for long service? Humans may monitor such things and measure them and indeed judge them- but God counts none of these things. For God only looks at the heart, each and every heart. It is the greatest mystery and miracle that God asks nothing of us but love.
Since the beginning of time, human beings have made known our love of God, shown our love of God, through worship, through adoration. How do I love thee? we might ask the creator of heaven and earth. Let me offer praise, might be our answer.
Tom Wright, Theologian and former Bishop of Durham, describes worship as ‘love on its knees before the beloved’. He implies that Christian worship calls us always to humility, to obedience and to love. Worship is an activity of the human heart. It is a school for the soul and it is the place where love is made.
It is the way that human beings can ultimately show their love for God: an expression of that first commandment: To love with heart, and mind and strength.
Trinity Sunday is a day when the Church acknowledges the call to worship God. We don’t have to understand the Trinity, we just have to worship, letting ourselves be swept up into adoration of God who is our creator, our redeemer and our sustainer.
Worship is not a means to an end, it is an end in itself -but through the grace of God it is always a beginning, because being drawn into the loving community of God can only result in building a loving community in the name of God. Worship is not a mission strategy, but it is the source of all mission, it is the bedrock of all evangelism, it is the engine oil of all loving service in the name of God. It is where God’s love is poured in our hearts.
Of course, it is from the love of God that other loves come, because when we are drawn into worship, that divine love shines upon us and within us, so that we may bring light and love to the world. Our love for God ripples out into the wider pool of our lives and into the ocean of our humanity, and that love can move us to speak against injustice and prejudice, and name corruption, and call out evil, and attend to feeding the hungry, caring for creation, binding up the broken hearted and raising up and honoring the most vulnerable. Through worship, the Spirit of truth guides us into all truth.
The Love of God and God’s love for us, always provokes us to greater loves which know no boundaries and carry no agenda and seek no gain nor reward, we are called, for this loves sake, to love neighbour beyond the self, the second great commandment.
God is always drawing us into the community of love, and this is what the love of God means. If we enter into that love, if we even speak the words of love given to us in Christ, we will find that we are, in Michael Ramsey’s words: humble to the dust, full of gratitude and our whole scale of priorities and concerns may be turned upside down, because the first thing, the love of God and our response to it, will indeed come first. First before everything else, before family even, before work, before politics, before nation, before the conveniences and habits we cling to, before even our traditions and our history.
If the church decided to count the ways, if we took a measure of how we assign worth to God, we might note that nationally, fewer and fewer people attend worship. We do pretty well here in York but it’s not like this everywhere. Does that really matter? Is our mission to get more numbers in at any cost- is our mission economic? A numbers game? Or is our mission simply to be faithful- to love God and have faith that God will do the rest? Is not the love of God the best witness to our faith and the best measure of our health as a church?
Jesus said ‘when two or three are gathered together my name, there I am in the midst of them’. In Cathedrals of all places we know this to be true because cathedrals, of all the ecclesiastical entities of the church, seem to have an increasingly unique vocation. We’re not just about the big services!
Day by day, in this Cathedral we offer prayer and worship-morning and evening, and in between we break bread together, we are never closed (barring global pandemics), we are open to all, 7 days a week, 365 days a year, that’s more than Tesco. The reason? Worship.
Worship is our primary purpose in this place, and even when no-one comes to join us, even when people have other priorities, even when it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, or isn’t at a convenient time, worship continues come rain or come shine, even if there are just two or three of us. Without that, this place is just a museum or a glorious heritage asset. Worship brings this place to life and it gives life to those who come here, and it gives life the world. We do this on behalf of, and for, everyone.
I have to break the news that we don’t worship for the numbers: maybe that’s why we’re growing? It’s great to have a full house, but if one person offers prayer here that is enough. T.S Elliot, who wrote quite a lot about Cathedrals (as well as Cats) said that “The ‘use’ of a cathedral is the performance of the complete liturgy of the church through the Christian Year.
‘The numbers of people attending seems to me of quite minor importance’, he said. ‘I should feel no misgivings even were there no congregation at all.’
The Cathedral, for Elliot was a sign and a symbol of the continuous worship of God, whether by one, or one hundred, or one thousand. Perhaps we are called to be a sign and a symbol of the continuous worship of God, and an embodiment of humanities vocation to love God with heart, and mind and strength, seven whole days a week, not just one in seven- a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving on the altar of the Lord? Perhaps we are called to be the sacred heart of culture, a gift, for all those who cannot, or choose not to be present? We worship to show our love of God, and humanities capacity for love.
When I see people kneeling in prayer, and approaching the altar with such awe and reverence, lighting a candle, when I see what is brought into worship and how people prioritize worship against all the other demands on their time, the places they have come from, the problems they are facing, the suffering, the endurance they bear, the hopes they have, the joys they celebrate, when I see all this, I remember why we are here and I remember that this worship thing that the church is called by God to do- is truly, a priceless gift and our true purpose.
Oscar Romero said ‘let us not measure the church by the number of its members or by its material buildings. That doesn’t matter, what matters is you the people, your hearts. God’s grace, giving you God’s truth and life. Don’t measure yourself by your numbers. Measure yourselves by the sincerity of heart with which you follow the truth and light of our divine redeemer.’
Perhaps the seemingly impossible mission that God is calling the church to fulfil in this age- is to be faithful and to adore, to bow down in worship, and embody love on its knees before the beloved, and to the glory of the one and only living God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
An Unexpected Ending
Preacher: Canon Victoria Johnson
Title of sermon: An Unexpected Ending
Readings: Psalm 98, Daniel 6.6-23, Mark 15:46-16.8
Date/time/service: Sunday 15 May 2022, 4pm, Choral Evensong
Last night, as you settled down to watch the Eurovision Song contest, perhaps you were expecting the usual ‘nil points’ for the United Kingdom, or perhaps you were expecting political voting to hold sway, as I believe it occasionally does- so what on earth happened!? Ukraine won and we came second- our best result since 1998! The narrative we have been so used to, was happily and miraculously subverted by a spirit of generosity across Europe! It’s almost as if a new chapter has been opened in the history of the Eurovision Song Contest. Isn’t it wonderful, when things don’t turn out as you have come to expect?
The acknowledged ending of Mark’s Gospel, which we have heard read this evening, suggests that after being told by an Angel that Jesus was risen from the dead, the women: Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Salome, fled from the tomb in terror and amazement, and said nothing to anyone. For they were afraid. We are left wondering what happens next. We are left with a closing down of the story. It’s over. The tomb is empty, the women flee in fear. Is this the end? According to the Gospel of Mark it seems so.
The Gospel writer is though deploying a dramatic device to cause the reader to question where this story really ends, because as we read and hear this story again, two thousand years later, we suddenly realise that of course, the story did not end with the women fleeing in fear and remaining silent…our very presence in this place today, suggests that the women may have fled in fear, but very soon afterwards they shared with others what they had seen and heard, they had good news to proclaim and they did just that.
Mark is actually telling us that the story continued, and you are only reading this story, or hearing this story, because it did not quite end in the way that is implied. What actually happened, beyond the written words on the page, is a story of the risen Christ subverting the ending that the world expected, subverting the ending we have been given. Death was not the end of this story- there was more to come, another chapter. This story did not end in silence, it ended in song.
A similar subversion of an expected narrative happens in the Book of Daniel, Daniel is thrown to the lions for praying to God, and is miraculously left unharmed, because an Angel commands the lion to shut its mouth leaving Daniel unscathed. These are unexpected and curious turns of event. Daniel too- through his faith in God, subverts the expected gory ending of the narrative. His story had more to give. He had more to say. This kind of narrative turn is one we experience throughout salvation history. There is an apparently inevitable outcome, but God subverts our human expectations. All seems lost, but instead things start again, or new life finds a way through. The lost are found, the broken are healed, the outcast is restored, the last are first, the dead come back to life.
In the mighty anthem we have just heard- (For Lo, I raise up by Charles Villiers Stanford) a violent and corrupt people are ravaging through the Land and terror is all around, but God promises that a new world will be born, even if it seems a distant dream. ‘Be patient and wait for it’, God says, for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea. The anthem begins with loud drama, but it ends, perhaps unexpectedly, with the soft sound of peace. The Magnificat, which we know so well in this service, is also a narrative of subversion: the rich and powerful are knocked down from their pedestals and the poor and lowly are raised up. This is not the ending we might be expecting in a world driven by power, wealth and status.
In our own histories, we might often feel trapped by the endings that are imposed upon us, watching things unfold just as they always do, the same old, same old, imprisoned by the dictated narratives which keep being rolled out again and again. But we learn through Christ, that it does not have to be this way. The biggest narrative turn in scripture is probably spoken by that anonymous young man, dressed in white. ‘Do not be alarmed, you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He is not here’.
No longer can we predict the outcome, no longer need we be trapped by the usual endings that others may have imposed upon us, or the narratives we are predicted to inhabit, because the Lord himself, through the power of the resurrection gives us the possibility of a new ending and a different future.
The same Lord, from whom all good things come, gives us all the possibility of an unexpected ending and a new start. We all have more to do, more to say. The story of Christ – the good news we have been given, is a story of a birth in a stable, the story of a love given for all people, the story of trampling down death with the joy of new life.
We are invited to be part of this story, to live out this story, and to keep proclaiming it over and above the narrative frameworks which the world tries to impose upon us.
He has been raised. Alleluia.
Resurrection life – Honorary Minor Canon Peniel Rajkumar
Preacher: Honorary Minor Canon Peniel Rajkumar
Title of sermon: Resurrection life
Date/time/service: Sunday 8 May 2022, 4pm, Choral Evensong
When I initially told my wife about my new association with York Minster, I was gently reminded that I had a hard example to emulate, because one Indian many would associate with Yorkshire would be the Indian cricketing legend Sachin Tendulkar. Well, no pressure there, though I have to admit that my cricketing abilities are not quite up to Tendulkar’s. But on the other hand, I learnt that Tendulkar’s link with Yorkshire lasted just a little over four and a half months, and I’m genuinely hoping to be here a bit longer, not the least because of the beauty of this place and the generous welcome I’ve received from its people. Thank you.
Narratives, narratives and more narratives! The Easter experience of Jesus’ disciples seems to be filled with narratives. Our gospel reading is set in the middle of one such narrative and begins with the words “while they were talking about this”. The disciples are talking about Jesus’ appearance on the road to Emmaus, and Jesus appears in their midst.
However exciting these narratives of Jesus’s resurrection may have sounded, they nevertheless seem powerless to irrupt into the reality of the eleven disciples, who seem barricaded from the rest of the world by grief, fear and doubt. The disciples seem to be in some senses what the Indian theologian Stanley Samartha calls “the Saturday people”, squeezed between Good Friday and Easter, who inhabit that unbearable pause between death and life, to whom Easter never comes.
No wonder they are shocked when Jesus appears among them. They did not expect this because Jesus’s crucifixion was a Roman execution that was meant to be the metaphorical final nail – something so cruel, so cunning and so complete that it was meant to be a ‘full-stop’.
And into this reality of doubt, despair and disillusionment Jesus breaks in, confounding the disciples. But what happens next is even more shocking. Jesus calls the same disciples who doubt his resurrection, to a new life of witness. While they are still caught in a flux of conflicting emotions – joy, disbelief and wonder – Jesus calls them to a new life which will culminate in them receiving power from on high. They are embraced in all their vulnerability and confusion into the possibility of a transformed life.
Yet, this transformed life is not a life of quick fixes. One of the consistent features of Jesus’s resurrection stories is that they offer no quick solutions for the disciples’ fears and doubts. Jesus appears and disappears, but very little happens in their life. However, the way the disciples are transformed is through embracing Jesus’ invitation to enter into a new pattern of living.
In our reading we see that the initiation to such living begins with the sharing of food – a distinctive mark of Jesus’s earthly ministry. In this table fellowship the disciples become hosts to Jesus himself, who enters their life as a hungry guest and asks them “have you anything to eat?” and teaches them at the heart of their new life was the challenge of responding to the need of the ‘other’.
It is a pattern of living where the disciple’s minds are opened to fresh readings of the scriptures in a context where closed minds may have provided more comfort and certitude.
It is a pattern of living where the disciples are promised the power to proclaim repentance and forgiveness in a context where revenge and retaliation might have been easier and preferable.
Finally, it is a pattern of living where they are asked to wait to be clothed by that power which is not of this world, while resisting the overwhelming temptation to make this power one’s own possession.
That is the promise and possibility that the risen Christ opens to a despairing and disbelieving people. The former archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams captures the significance of this dimension of the resurrection in the following words, “The Christian proclamation of the resurrection of the crucified just man, his return to his unfaithful friends and his empowering of them to forgive in his name offers a narrative structure in which we can locate our recovery of identity and human possibility”.
In Christ’s resurrection we are offered the possibility of a life that is both transformed and transforming. It is this transformed and transforming life that we may be called to live out in a turbulent global context of war, hate and greed, where it is easy to lose hope like the disciples, and – as a modern poet poignantly put it – “let the wire brush of doubt scrape from our heart, all sense of ourself and our hesitant light”.
Thankfully this life is available to us as an invitation of the risen Christ, who accompanies us through our fears, our doubts and beyond with the words – “Peace be with you. Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?” Amen