We’re all doomed! Or are we?

The human psyche is designed to look for danger and to be suspicious of change; so it is not surprising that, in every age, some have believed that the world is going to hell in a handcart.  In Christ’s day, as in ours, there is evidence to support this view: distress among the nations, people living in fear and foreboding.                                                                                                                      

 It was the same for Jeremiah, his writing is packed full of warnings but in today’s passage, 33:14-16, we glimpse the hope of a fresh start: The tree of Jesse, representing the family tree of the rulers of Israel, is now a mere stump, having been cut off by Babylonians and Assyrians.  Yet Jeremiah speaks of a shoot, springing up from the stump, offering hope.                                                                                   

And, in Luke 21:25-36, Jesus also sees signs of growth and newness, as he points to the new leaves on the fig tree.                                                                                                                                 

Advent is about endings but it is also about beginnings: inviting us to ponder what needs to end if something new is to spring forth.                                                                                                              

In the midst of change, Christ tells us not to be weighed down with worries but to stand straight and raise our heads; to be alert for the signs of God’s reign, signs of generosity and understanding, signs of justice and reconciliation.  In encouraging these signs to flourish, we too become a sign of God’s reign, a sign that a new world is possible.   

Today is the feast of Christ the King, a time to reflect on leadership, authority and power. This is a relatively new feast, instituted in 1925 in the face of rising nationalism in Europe.  It affirms that our primary allegiance is to Christ which means that we, like him, are called to stand in solidarity with all peoples.

In our Gospel, John 18:33-37, Pilate believes that he is the one with authority, he holds the power of life or death, but Jesus does not submit to his authority, only to God’s. 

At the heart of their interaction is a fundamental disagreement about the true nature of power: Jesus tells Pilate that if his power “were from this world my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over”.  Pilate’s role in the crucifixion reveals the truth about the misuse of power.  For him, leadership is about exerting power over people, for Jesus it is about using power to serve and liberate people. 

At our baptism we are all anointed with the sign of the cross, claimed as Christ’s own. We are all called to be leaders in the kingdom of God, refusing to use our power over others but instead employing it to set them free.   

As we head towards Advent, the beginning, our readings look to the end.  Today we are treated to two apocalyptic visions of the end times, when all that had seemed secure suddenly seemed fragile. 

Both Daniel 12:1-3 and Mark 13:1-8 were written for people who had witnessed the destruction of their temple and were experiencing upheaval and uncertainty.  They provide hope in a bleak time that the future will be better; that what has been destroyed will be rebuilt.  But hope is not passive, it is an act of radical resistance that commits to a new and better world.

This week, with the publication of the Makin report and the resignation of the Archbishop, there is great strength to be drawn from the metaphors that Jesus uses: the temple being torn down to be rebuilt; the labour pains before new birth; because they speak of renewal.

If we want a church, if we want a world, in which the weak are protected, the voiceless are given a voice, and needs of the vulnerable are not ignored to protect the powerful, we need to believe that such a world is possible but, more than this, we need to be the ones whose lives and actions bring that world into being.  Our task is not to wait for the signs, it is to BE the signs.

This Sunday is Remembrance Sunday when we gather at the war memorial to honour those whose lives have been given and taken away in wars and conflicts past and present. It is a day of deep reflection, a time for sorrow and penitence. 

This month, as the Christian year draws towards its celebration of the reign of Christ, the Feast of Christ the King, our readings today reflect on what it means to live under Christ’s rule.  Today they focus on the need for repentance, to turn from all that is not life-giving. In Jonah 3.1-5,10 we hear Jonah call the people of Nineveh to change, to turn to God and live.  In our Gospel reading, Mark 1.14-20, Jesus proclaims that ‘the kingdom of God has come near’; all we need to enter is to ‘repent, and believe in the good news’.

Our news today is filled with stories of conflict and suffering – sadly the wars of the last century did not bring the lasting peace that was hoped for.  In our personal lives we are called to examine our own beliefs and actions, and repent of all that may get in the way of walking in the way of peace. What does the Lord require of us, but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with our God. (Micah 6.8)

Sunday 3rd November 6:30pm.

The service provides a time and place for quiet prayer and reflection, so that we can remember before God all those we have loved who have died.

There is a list at the back of church for you to add the names of the loved ones you would like to be remembered.

Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind and strength and love your neighbour as yourself”, this, Jesus tells us, in Mark 12:28-34, is the greatest commandment.  The words are as familiar to us as they would have been to his first listeners.  They come as no surprise.  What is surprising is that this is a story of resounding agreement between Jesus and those who seem to be his enemies.  In the lead up to today’s encounter Jesus has been engaged in series of escalating rows with the scribes and the pharisees, deliberately provoking confrontation and causing offence, to the extent that some try to have him arrested.  What is beautiful in Mark’s telling of this story is that this moment of concord is initiated, not by Jesus, but by one of the scribes.  In the midst of the “dispute” with his colleagues, he listens and hears that Jesus answers well.  His is not a trick question, asked to trip up an opponent, it is an attempt to uncover shared values.  In our public discourse we are not used to opponents agreeing, trying to discover common ground, in fact, we are not used to opponents listening to one another.  But Jesus answers him with the Shema: “Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God is one.”  There is a oneness, a unity, which underlines all our experiences.  This unity does not mean that we all agree or that we are all the same but that we all are made by the same God for one thing and one thing only, to love.   The second commandment “to love our neighbour as ourselves” flows inevitably from the first, the love of God.  Today, as we welcome a new member of the family of God in baptism, we celebrate our unity, our shared kinship in God.  Our identity and our purpose in life is given to us by this kindship, a kinship with God that cannot be separated from our kinship from one another.  To love our neighbour as ourselves requires listening, demands genuine curiosity about their experiences and a commitment to understanding in order that we see and hear all that unites us and not just what divides us.

“Today, as we celebrate the feast of All Saints, we are offered a glimpse a future feast of all the saints in Isaiah 25:6-9.  This feast will come once God has destroyed “the shroud that is cast over all peoples”, when suffering, conflict and poverty are ended and the whole of creation can celebrate together.  In Isaiah’s vision, the saints of God wait for God to bring salvation but in John 11:32-44, Jesus calls to participate, inviting us to unbind the grave clothes from his friend Lazarus.  Unbinding ourselves, one another and our world from all that is not life-giving is a task for the community to undertake together.  In the gospel, those gathered must contend with the weight of the stone and the stench of decay to free Lazarus but most of all they must hold onto hope.  Lazarus is raised on the fourth day, a symbol that all hope is lost (resurrection and salvation in scripture always comes on the third day).  We are all saints, made in the image of God, set aside for God to use.  Our saintly calling requires courage to speak out about all that constrains and oppresses, all that keeps us shrouded from fullness of life and to play our part in removing that shroud but most of all we are required to practise the discipline of hope, that nothing and no one is beyond redemption. 

“The secret to becoming the greatest in God’s eyes is to become the servant of all.  In Mark 10:35-45 Jesus once more intervenes as his disciples squabble over who is the best, reminding them that they like him, were sent to serve.  Christians have often seen Jesus as the embodiment of the suffering servant we encounter in Isaiah 53:4-12; the one who suffers willingly for the sake of God’s people.  But, whereas Isaiah sees sin and suffering as some big cosmic transaction where one person’s suffering can cancel out another’s sin, Jesus offers something radically different: the only way to end suffering is if all of us take responsibility for ending it.  Like Isaiah, he insists that God is on the side of the oppressed but not because they are cancelling out sin but because God doesn’t want anyone to suffer, God wants everyone to flourish.   We are not called to bear suffering stoically but to fight to end suffering not just for ourselves and our people but for all people.   In the kingdom of God everyone’s needs are served because everyone is committed to service.  Jesus replaces a transactional view of the world with a relational one: if one suffers, we all suffer.  We are in it together.

“O children of Zion, be glad and rejoice in Lord your God” the prophet Joel exhorts us, for the rains have come, there will be grain, there will be wine and oil.  Will there though? After all, Joel 2:21-27 is addressing a people in the midst of famine.  Why should they believe that the future will be any different?  And then there is Jesus telling us not to worry in Matthew 6:25-33, do we worry? You can bet your life we worry.  There are floods, there are hurricanes, food prices are rising, there are over 7 million people in the UK suffering from food poverty, which is peanuts compared to the 27 million and counting at risk of starvation in Sudan.  As for the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, they are doing so well either. There is much to worry about and precious little, it seems, to rejoice in.  Do we worry? Damn right we worry.  But are we worrying about the right things and, more importantly, are we striving for the right things?  Jesus is not telling us that food, water, clothing and shelter are unimportant, he assures us that “God knows you need these things”.  And, like Joel, he promises that these things will be provided but not by some random act of God or providence but by building the kingdom of God: “strive first for the kingdom of God … and all these things will be given to you as well.”  We do not lack God given resources.  What we lack is justice and peace, equity and courage.  What we lack is belief in our God given ability to make a difference.  Do we worry? Of course we worry, we worry about climate change, energy security, sustainable food supply, we worry about the equitable distribution of resources and access to health and housing.  I am not suggesting that we stop worrying but that we start striving.  That we start believing, as Jesus did, that we can make a difference, that we each have a part to play in building the kingdom of God.

At first glance our readings today seem to be all about marriage and divorce but they are about so much more than that.  Genesis 2:18-24 gives us part of the second creation story.  I tend to prefer the first (Genesis 1) in which all humanity (and all genders) are created at the same time, whereas here the woman seems to be created only after the man to help him out.  But perhaps we are creating gender distinctions were there are none: as men and women appear at the same time in today’s reading too, both being formed out of one ha-adam or earth creature.  The creation of gender divisions is something that Jesus comments on too in Mark 10:2-16.  Divorce, as the Pharisees make clear, was something only a man could avail himself of whereas Jesus refers to both men and women divorcing their spouses as if they had equal rights.  It is the inequality that Jesus wants to draw our attention to. Once divorced, a woman risked destitution and death, as did her children.  The law is less important than the people affected by it.  Both our readings centre on dependency: our need for one another, for God and for the whole of creation.  Jesus does not condemn us for breaking any laws but for our hardness of heart; our refusal to take care of each other and our world.  When we do so, we forget that we too are dependant, created as part of one flesh and one earth.  As Jesus takes the child into his arms to honour and bless it, he invites us to do likewise: when every creature of earth, together with the earth from which we were formed, is honoured and cherished, we enter again the kingdom of God.

Today is the feast of St Michael and All Angels.  Angels are heavenly beings not earthly one but they carry messages from one place to the other.  Both of our readings this morning show angels moving between heaven and earth. In Genesis 28:10-19, Jacob stops to rest for the night after running away.  As he sleeps, he dreams of a ladder used by the angels.  Although God promises Jacob that God will be with him wherever he goes, Jacob thinks that God’s presence is linked to this particular place.  He consecrates it, naming it the gate of heaven and then goes on his way.  When Jesus meets Nathaniel in John 1:47-51, he describes himself as the ladder that joins heaven and earth.  The place where heaven and earth meet is not a holy place as envisaged by Jacob but is a living, breathing human being.  We, who follow Christ, are also called to be like Jacob’s ladder: connecting things earthly and heavenly; showing that there need be no division between the divine and the human, we are the place where God chooses to dwell on earth as in heaven. 

In our readings today both Jeremiah (Jeremiah 11:18-21) and Jesus (Mark 9:30-37) speak about the violence they are facing.  A violence provoked by them speaking about power from the perspective of those who are powerless.  They question the way we live now and offer a way of living in which no one is prioritised at another’s expense. The disciples lack of understanding is demonstrated in their fights over who among them is the greatest.  In response, Jesus places a child (who had no legal status being the property of its father) in the centre, in the place of status, the place of importance.  Jesus asks us to do more than care for the needy and powerless, he asks us to learn from them; the centre is also the place of teaching.  The disciples were ignorant because they were afraid to ask.  It is only when we ask that we discover what those who experience life at the bottom of the heap have to teach us.  Inequality and poverty damage all of us, not just the ones at the sharp end.   When farmers get poorer, the food they produce costs us more, when war ravages nations, the displaced end up on our borders.  Jesus is inviting us to work for a world in which power is not used for our own benefit but to serve others.  In such a world no one would be the greatest and no one would be the least. 

I can, Isaiah 50:4-9 tells us, sustain the weary with a word.  Words are powerful things: they can move us to compassion, inspire us to struggle for justice and bring hope.  Words can also stir up conflict, generate division and feed hatred. 

When Jesus asks his disciples to find words for who he is in Mark 8:27-38, they come up with some great ones: Prophet, Elijah, John the Baptist, Messiah.   But these are not the right words, they express what others want Jesus to be, someone who will champion their people, who will restore Israel. 

For Isaiah speaking begins with listening: “morning by morning God wakens my ears to listen as one who is taught”.  Listen, Jesus tells us, this is who I really am, someone who will suffer and die; someone who will not fight your enemies but will reconcile you to them; someone who will live out his belief that God’s kingdom will come and, when it does, it will be for everyone.  Words, Jesus tells us, are not enough.  We can talk about the kingdom of God till the cows come home (and we do!) but the kingdom will only come when we put our money where our mouth is: when we show, not just by our words, but by our actions, what we truly believe in. 

Isaiah 35:1-10 describes the journey towards God, a journey in which people are be changed: the blind see, the lame will leap.  As they are transformed so is the path before them: difficulties turn into provisions: the burning sand springs with water and the barren wilderness blossoms.  All that is needed for the journey is be provided on the journey. In Mark 7:24-37 Jesus is also travelling, heading into gentile territory.  Here he gets into an argument with a Syrian woman whose daughter he refuses to heal because she is not the intended recipient of his gifts, these are meant for the children of God.  But this remarkable outsider insists that at least there must be crumbs that fall from the children’s table.  The Syrian woman wants something from Jesus but he also needs something from her: a belief in the wideness of God’s mercy and grace.  On the journey Jesus’ mission is expanded and he travels on to heal other outsiders using the word: Ephphatha, be opened.  In our own lives the obstacles to following where God leads often seem insurmountable and we feel ill-equipped to undertake the journey.  We struggle to see God’s vision for the world, we resist letting go of our own plans.  Jesus both shows us and tells us, to be open, to be prepared to change, to risk the journey trusting that we, and the world around us, will be transformed on the way. 

Let me catch you up on what you might have missed if you’ve been away over the summer: six solid weeks of John chapter six, six solid weeks of Jesus talking about bread.  We began with Jesus miraculously providing food for 5,000 and ended with him offering to feed us with the bread of heaven.  Just as we need material food to keep our bodies alive, we need spiritual food to feed our souls.  The spiritual food Jesus offers involves sharing in the life of God.  This is the background to today’s argument, in Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23, about eating.  The disciples are eating without washing their hands.  This was more than poor food hygiene, it was a rejection of a religious tradition which divided the world into clean and unclean, worthy and unworthy, insiders and outsiders.  We too have many rules about what constitutes acceptable behaviour and, consciously or unconsciously, we use these rules to judge which people are acceptable and which are not.  Jesus does not reject these rules instead he asks us to consider their meaning and their impact: who do they serve?  Were those who strictly observed these traditions doing so to show obedience to God or to indicate that they were better than others?  The original purpose of these purity codes was to show other people that God’s people were different, not because they were better, but because they were close to God.  This was intended to invite others to draw close to God, not to shut them out.  The blessings we receive from God are not for ourselves they are for sharing.  Jesus is asking us to question our own rules and traditions: do they serve us or do they serve others; are they healing, nurturing and life giving?  Any behaviour that results in excluding others from God’s grace may be acceptable to us but will never be acceptable to God.

Choose. In our readings this morning both Joshua (Joshua 24:1-2, 14-18) and Jesus (John 6:56-69) offer us a choice: to accept or to refuse our identity as God’s people. The choice is not easy. In our translation Joshua states that we may be “unwilling” to serve God. The literal translation is nearer “it may seem evil to you”, unattractive, difficult, just as those following Jesus find his teaching difficult, hard to accept. There are alternative options: Joshua’s people could follow “the gods of your ancestors” or “the gods of the Amorites in whose land you are living”. Their lives, like our own, were shaped both by family and history and by the culture and society in which they lived. But Joshua insists that are conscious of the choice they are making. He does not claim that the path of faith is easy or obvious but that in serving God he finds the freedom to become more than just a product of his history or culture. For Jesus, just keeping on keeping on, unconsciously accepting life as it is, is to feed the body but not the soul. We need more than bread alone to be truly alive. Like Joshua, he wants us to perceive that we are more than our history and circumstances, we are made by God to carry God’s spirit into the world and, when we choose to embrace this identity, we become fully alive.

Over the last few weeks Jesus has been describing himself as bread from heaven, like the mana with which God fed his people in the wilderness. Today, in John 6:51-58, he describes himself as flesh just as God gave flesh in the form of quails, as well as bread, in the desert. His listeners were aware that Jesus was not speaking literally: they were familiar with the many scriptures which used eating as a metaphor for spiritual sustenance like the one in Proverbs 9:1-6. Here, the food offered is wisdom, nourishing the simple and the senseless so that they have the strength to live wisely and well. They may have been upset by his graphic language: the word he uses is not the usual word for eating but something more like munching, crunching, chewing, a word used to describe animals feeding. More likely, they, like us, find it hard to comprehend the idea of God who is fully known in the physical reality of our lives. God, who is not ethereal and distant, but present in the sweat and tears and pain and struggle of our ordinary lives. A God whose presence is experienced incarnationally. A God who desires to be completely incorporated into our lives. This God knows that we are hungry for more than bread and meat; knows that we hunger for God’s very self, without which we will still be empty and unsatisfied, without which we will not know the true meaning and purpose of our lives, without which we cannot become who we were made to be.

In last week’s reading the Israelites were “complaining among themselves” in the wilderness, this morning, Elijah, in 1 Kings 19:4-8, is also complaining bitterly and, in John 6:35-51, the crowd following Jesus are doing the same. The Israelites wanted to return to Egypt, Elijah wanted to wage jihad, the crowd around Jesus wanted miracles. In each case they are disappointed. God knows what they need. But before they can accept this they have to come to the end of their tether. It is only when they can no longer rely on their own strength and skills, when their own resources have been exhausted, when they give up, that they allow God the opportunity to act. In the mountains of Horeb, in the wilderness and in our own lives God’s power is made known in our weakness. God meets us in our own wilderness when we have nothing left to give and gives us the rest and resources we need; re-viving and re-forming us to continue, not on our own path but on the journey that God has planned for us.

For a month over the summer our readings are all about bread: Jesus, alongside, Elisha, Elijah and Moses, feeds the people of God and asks us to reflect on what we need to be fed and why. In this morning’s gospel, John 6:24-35, Jesus accuses the people following him of just wanting more bread just to fill their stomachs and not understanding the true sustenance he offers, the bread of life. The crowd wonder if he will provide mana for them as Moses did in Exodus 16:2-4, 9-15. This bread, Jesus points out, was not provided by Moses but given by God and now God is giving them Jesus, the bread of life. In the wilderness, God told the people: “in the morning you shall have your fill of bread; then you shall know that I am the Lord your God.” The bread is not just to feed them, it is to teach them, it is to bring them into right relationship with God. The wilderness is not just the space between Egypt and the promised land, it is the place where God will re-form his people so that they once more understand who they are and what they are here for. The bread they need is bread for the journey: the resources they need to go where God is leading them. We are not fed by bread alone. We are not made just to survive, we are made to thrive and we do so by becoming who we truly are: a people made by God to journey outwards, carrying to others the life that we have been given, sharing that which will enable all God’s people to thrive.