Questions propel our faith journey...Job 38.1-11, Psalm 107.1-3, 23-32, 2 Corinthians 6.1-13, Mark 4.35-41

“When you come to the edge of all the light you have And take the first step into the darkness of the unknown, You must believe one of two things will happen: There will be something solid for you to stand upon, or you will be taught how to fly.”

Many times in our lives we face the unknown, the uncertainty of a future, an outcome, we cannot see.And what we have to hold onto in those moments is our faith that God is with us: that God will be our solid rock to stand on, or that we will be taught to fly.

The Old Testament lesson shows us what this looks like, with the steadfast faithfulness and absolute conviction of Job in the face of excruciating darkness. We see this, too, in the gospel lesson, with the new understanding of the disciples as Jesus calms the wind and sea.

Both stories illustrate faith. Neither story is that simple. Each story incudes a crucial question.

“Who do you think you are?” God asks Job. “Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me! Who determined its measurements? Surely you know!” God demands of Job: “Who do you think you are?!”

“Who is this?” the disciples ask each other as the waves roll, the winds roar, and their boat pitches in the sea. “Who is this,” they ask about Jesus when he calms the storm, “that even the wind and the sea obey him?”

We have two stories of faith, two questions. God asks Job: Who are you? The disciples ask of Jesus: Who is he?

If we can answer these two questions, we can describe our faith and equip ourselves for those times that will come: when we will be required to step off into the darkness of the unknown.

Who are you? Who is God for you?

Lots of people would be happy to answer your questions for you, but what they will give you are their answers. As much as we might not like others telling us what we must believe and who we are as Christians, it is the churches that are doing this that are experiencing booming success. The mega-churches, which are thriving, offer answers as bait. “We will tell you what to believe, how to live. There is no need to bother with seeking and searching, with the messiness of doubt. We have the truth and we will give it to you.”

Does this sound familiar? In an ever-changing world fraught with uncertainty and stress, this can be very seductive. It’s a rare security, a comforting assurance. Tidy.

But is it faith? Can answers given to you by someone else stand on that brink of darkness, looking into the unknown?

The author Frederick Beuchner once observed that doubt is – and perhaps it is also fair to say questions are – “the ants in the pants of faith.”

Get a visual on that: ants in the pants. There is no way you can sit still, relax, remain calm. The adventure of faith requires energy and courage. It requires movement. If you have all the answers, you may as well go to sleep, because your work is done. But if you have questions – “ants in your pants” – then the journey continues. You must seek, you must search, you must move.

People often look to the Bible for answers, and many claim to find them there. “The Bible says it, I believe it, that settles it.” Have you seen that bumper sticker? But the Bible is not a proof-text document, a finished, static idea. God is not dead, or asleep.

We can look to the Bible, instead, for questions.

God asks, in the Garden of Eden: Adam, Eve, where are you?

Cain asks: What? Am I my brother’s keeper?

The psalms lament: How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?

John the Baptist asks: Are you the one who is to come?

Jesus asks Peter: Who do you say I am?

Pilate asks Jesus: What is truth?

The apostle Paul asks: What can separate us from the love of God?

It is the questions that are alive, the questions that describe what we believe, the questions that continue the conversation with God.

Consider one of our more popular television game shows, “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?” It is the answers that win the prize. The right answer, chosen from four possibilities. You can even get help in narrowing it down to two possible answers, or involving a friend, to get just the right one.

There is something in us that likes the adventure of questions, yet clings to the security of answers when we are facing a frightening unknown. But we are often faced with questions that demand our response without really having clear answers. Medical technology, for example, forces us into questions no one should have to address. And while we’re grateful for the advances in healthcare, it’s tough being caught in the dilemma of a difficult decision with little guidance but our faith in God. Do you have the treatment in a limited hope of prolonging life? Or do you live the life you’re given, let nature take its course? When do you pull the plug on someone? What about organ donation? Questions like these are now commonplace, as so many of us have learned.

Such questions challenge us to think big, to think beyond, to examine our innermost selves, to involve God. Such questions require us to ask, “Who am I?” and “Who is God?”

Such questions are life- and faith-changing. Look at Job. Look at the disciples. They were each and all forever changed, forever clarified, by the questions.

Think of a time in your life when you faced a question, the answer to which changed the direction of your life forever. “Will you marry me?” “What shall we tell her?” “How shall we break the news?” “Do we continue treatment?” “Where do you want to live?” “What do you want to study?”

The way we answer these questions forever influences our knowledge of ourselves and our understanding of God.

We are not a particularly noble people. Our faith is no more spectacular than anyone else’s. But in an instance of grappling with an unanswerable question in an imperfect world, perhaps some of us might choose a continuing question over a definitive answer – to live in the unknown, trusting God, instead of settling the issue then and there.

Living with the questions is often difficult. There can be much ambiguity, lots of loose ends. But as difficult as it can be to live in the ambiguity of questions, trusting that God will be with us at that edge between light and darkness, we may find that standing in the unknown with God brings more blessing than the imagination can dream of.

The apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian church that, in Jesus, every one of God’s promises is a yes. Gospel musicians, taking inspiration from this scripture passage, sing: “Find your YES in him.” Whatever questions confront us, may we trust God to be our answer.

“When you come to the edge of all the light you have And take the first step into the darkness of the unknown, You must believe one of two things will happen: There will be something solid for you to stand upon, or you will be taught how to fly.”

Every journey brings blessings. Journeys don’t begin with answers, only with questions, whether it’s a journey to the next state or a journey of faith.

Who do you think you are? Who is this who calms the wind and sea?

Wishing you love life peace and blessings, Fr. Gareth

My Peace I Give To You

Jesus gives us something: his Peace, or his Shalom. This gift is more than anything we can want. And it seems that in this world, and in our culture, we want an awful lot. Since we already want all that the world can give, it is difficult for us to imagine more than that, which the world cannot give.

Yet, that is God’s gift to us in Jesus: God’s shalom, God’s peace, is greater than anything we can desire or imagine. God’s peace, means becoming a people who seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbours as ourselves.

When Jesus says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you,” he is telling us to be people who bring God’s Peace to all people and to all the nations.

Jesus wants to give us all Peace. Jesus wants to give us all of this and more than we can either desire or imagine. Jesus doesn’t want us to worry, he doesn’t want us to get stressed about exams or about what other people think about us Listen as he calls to us, He says: My own Peace I give to you; I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid. Peace I leave with you. It is yours to have and to give to the rest of the world.

Amen.

Love one another

The Collect for today asks God to “increase our love for one another, that both in name and in truth we may be disciples of the risen Lord Jesus, and so reflect by our lives the glory that is yours”.

Once there was a church that had the phrase “I am the way, the truth and the life” on a sign above its iron gate. The church and its message intrigued a young man, so he decided to go there on Sunday. He was not welcomed. No one spoke to him, or smiled, or offered him a handshake. After the service he left in a puzzled state.

In the Bible, God reveals that nothing in His creation is profane, that the “purity code” is a limitation imposed by humans, not God, and that keeping that purity could in fact be hindering God. This was something obviously lost on the folks in the small church that the young man visited. They were uneasy with somebody they didn’t know, so they kept their distance, “he might not be like us”.

Have you ever thought about what’s going on in the world today? Have you ever wondered why many are afraid of immigrants, legal or not? Have you ever wondered why many are afraid of people of different a sexuality? Do you understand that Sunday morning can be the most exclusive, segregated, and separate time of the week? All week long we work with, bump up against, commute with, and eat with people who are not like us, but often on Sunday we attend a church that consists mostly of people like ourselves.

There are exceptions, of course. But many of our churches do not look anything like the communities that we live in or the grocery shops we shop in. Why is that? Do you ever wonder?

The writer of Revelation offers a passage often read at funerals. The image of death having been vanquished, of mourning and crying being no more, and of God wiping away every tear is a powerful image, followed by the declaration that God is making all things new. One of those new things is surely the way we experience one another, as diverse gifts of the God who made us all.

If we begin to think about people who differ from us in race or culture or sexuality, then see them as gifts to us from God. And that gives us a wholly different point of view toward the many people sent to us by God. We can turn away from them, but are we not then also turning away from God?

When we hear the gospel and Jesus’ own words call us to love one another, “Just as I have loved you.” This is not a phrase easily dismissed. Jesus’ entire ministry, including his death and resurrection, hangs on this phrase, “Just as I have loved you.” Jesus loved people in a radical way. Today he would be – and often is – in the supermarket talking with the checkers, the shelf fillers, and the customers finding their way through a bewildering array of products. He is there because that is where all the community goes. He is there because that may be where a lonely newcomer to town gets a smile at the cash register, or even a query, “Are you new here?”

But what about church? What about that Sunday morning experience that is often the place where we see only familiar faces, only people like us, only people we know? Is Jesus there? Of course he is, but he is there to welcome the stranger – whoever walks in that door timidly and tentatively looking for new community. Are we ready for that? Do we seek those people? Would they be welcomed, truly welcomed here?

Not long ago the young man who had visited a church and was made to feel like an outsider was back in the neighbourhood and walked by the church he had visited on that Sunday. It had been many years. The sign “I am the way, the truth, and the life” still stood above the iron gate. Then he saw that the church doors were boarded over, as were many of the windows. The church was obviously closed and looked as though it had been for some time. He walked on, wondering what had happened. We can draw our own conclusions, but if that church had welcomed him and others instead of being closed to what God was sending them on frequent occasions, the end of their story might have been very different indeed.

Easter Sunday 2010

Easter moves around a lot from year to year. Unlike Christmas, which always falls on December twenty-fifth, no matter the day of the week, Easter can fall on any Sunday between March 22nd and April 25th. There is, in fact, an entire section of the Book of Common Prayer devoted to finding the date of Easter Sunday in any given year. Read it some evening if you are having a difficult time falling asleep.

Before you drift off, you will learn about golden numbers and Sunday letters, astronomical and ecclesiastical equinoxes, and the phases of the moon – all of which are critical in determining when exactly it is that we celebrate the feast of the Lord’s Resurrection. In fact, the dating of Easter was one of the earliest controversies to face the early English Church long before the time of Henry VIII. Sadly, it has not been the last. But that is another story.

Time has always been important to Christians for the simple reason that our redemption takes place in time. Unlike the gods and heroes of mythology, Christ lived among us in time and history. He was born. He grew up. He preached the kingdom, and he died. It is recorded there in scripture for all to read. It is part of salvation history.

And as the Gospel of Luke tells us, on a certain first day of the week – specifically at early dawn – Christ’s empty tomb was discovered, and the proclamation of his Resurrection began as the women made their way back to the eleven and told them what they had seen and heard. That proclamation continues to this day.

It is no wonder then that over centuries the Church has been so precise and meticulous about the timing of such an important feast. But as arcane as the computation is for establishing Easter Day, it is only part of the story. For not only is Easter a special time, it is quite literally special time. It is time out of time, time like no other.

The Resurrection is something completely unique and unprecedented. Here is how New Testament scholar Holt Graham explains the Easter event:
“We do not understand it and indeed cannot. … It never happened before, and it has never happened again. What we have learned from ordinary existence is no help when we come up against the absolutely unique happening. It is in the full and literal sense a mystery. It occurred beyond the boundary line of our existence.”

The Resurrection in other words, while a part of our salvation history, nevertheless occurs beyond our experience and senses. Other scholars explain the Resurrection as the “bursting forth” into time – into history – of eternity itself. It is as if all eternity were concentrated into this moment when Christ overcomes death and the grave, and the infinite sweeps away the temporal. Yet if the Resurrection is unique in our experience, it is essential to our existence as Christians.

No one saw the Resurrection. No one knows just when it happened or how. There was no car chase. No film on the News at 10. No leads. No body. No CSI. No Gill Grissom! The tomb is open and empty, abandoned except by a couple of ethereal, angelic figures and a few devoted, if somewhat disconsolate, women. For something at the very heart of our faith, this remains pretty slim pickings. Where was BBC News? Where were the press?

But of course we don’t get any of it. There is quite literally nothing to this story. An empty tomb. Our great Christian symbol of life and hope is found in something missing, something not there, a displacement. “The Case of the Missing Body,” as mystery writer Agatha Christie might have called it. It is indeed a mystery, but unlike anything Agatha Christie ever imagined.

For this empty tomb is full of meaning. From this empty tomb, hewn in rock, we as Christians draw forth all of our faith and hope for this world and for the kingdom to come. At this empty tomb we find the Christ of eternity alive in the here and now. From this chasm, a symbol of death and defeat, comes forth victory and life itself. Christ’s tomb is the earthen fissure through which God’s love pours out upon our parched world of sin and death.

We do not know how this is so. But then there are a lot of things we do not know. How life began in some ocean lagoon billions of years ago, for instance. Or even how our parents fell in love. Just as our lives today are in some real sense mysteries we shall never fathom, so is the Resurrection for us a sharing in the mystery of God’s own life. Or perhaps more to the point, it is a sharing by God in our lives.
Time is on our side. Our life and our world mean something. They are not random events, and we are not lost among the dust and debris of history, footnotes in a book of no meaning or consequence. In this single event, the Resurrection, everything is changed for all time. We live now in Christ forever. In Baptism, we have been raised with him, and death no longer has a grip on us. We seek now, as Paul says, “the things that are above, where Christ is.”

As Christians, we do not see and then believe. We believe so that we may see. And what we see in the Resurrection is our lives transformed. “Let the whole world see and know,” we pray in one of the final liturgies of Holy Week, “that things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new.” Christ’s Resurrection is finally the most real thing there is… or ever was… or ever will be!

The Lord is risen indeed.

Amen. Alleluia.

Luke 2 v 22-40 Expect the Unexpected

Snow, something we are not really used to dealing with. When it fell recently in large quantities, we were somewhat unprepared. For a few days it seemed as if everything had ground to a halt. The roads were treacherous, people couldn’t get to work, services were grounded, and we ran out of salt-grit. Some children, were treated to that rare and wonderful thing: a snow day or two.

For so many, an unexpected heavy fall of snow – especially on a weekday – is inconvenient, dangerous and frustrating. But perhaps we can all remember (and maybe just a few of us feel this still) the joy of a few hours’ liberation from the normal course of events: that feeling that things don’t always run their normal course, that sometimes everything goes topsy-turvy and we can build snowmen, make snow angels and risk our necks on a sledge. Alas, it never lasts long, but these interruptions to the everyday course of events can become treasured memories that stay with us for the rest of our lives

We read today of a really intriguing part of the Gospel story. Intriguing, not because it is packed with angel choirs and extraordinary events as the last part of the story was, and not because it is smattered with miracles and drama like the next bit will be, but because it speaks of a time of getting back into the swing of everyday life. Apart from one other significant event when Jesus is twelve, it is the last thing we hear of Jesus as a child – in fact the last thing we hear of him for about thirty years. And in the meantime, things get back to normal. Well almost!!!!

Mary and Joseph circumcise their son after eight days, and they set off to the Temple at Jerusalem to perform the ritual that every good Jew would perform – they offer a sacrifice to the Lord for their firstborn boy. The pattern of life and worship begins to resume. But then they are approached by Simeon – someone whom we know nothing about apart from the fact he lived in Jerusalem and believed God had told him he would not die before seeing the Messiah. It’s easy to picture this devoted man being – well, slightly odd. He takes the child – a little nerve-racking for a parent – and praises God for having let him see God’s salvation, although not without offering some disturbing words too.

And as this is happening, Anna the prophet comes upon them and begins to tell all those around that that baby was the one they had been waiting for: the redemption of Israel. We’re very polite about Anna, and, of course, hindsight proved her right, but this is a woman who has lived in the Temple for what could have been about sixty years, doing nothing but fasting and praying. She’s eccentric, to put it mildly. It’s easy to imagine that Mary and Joseph might have been a little embarrassed by this interruption to their quiet ceremony. But it is in this interruption by two out-of-the-ordinary people that God speaks, and this human baby is once more named as the saviour of the world. Food for thought as Mary and Joseph return home to Nazareth and begin the business of raising their child.

Application

For most of us, it is not the drama of the angels and shepherds that best reflects our experience of Christian life, but the more mundane interruption of the presentation of Jesus at the Temple as Mary and Joseph get on with the rituals of life and worship. The Spirit of God often moves in the interruptions and disturbances that take place as we try to get on with things. The thing is, do we see it? Just like that snow, interruptions can be inconvenient, dangerous and frustrating. We do our best to avoid them most of the time. But they can be liberating, joyful and the key to opening up new ways of being God’s people. Mary and Joseph were probably attuned by their recent experiences to observe and listen to God’s intervention in their lives. But what would we have done? Hugged the child to ourselves and scuttled on our way? Laughed it off with that embarrassing laugh we do. Who knows? Let’s pray that we may be open to the interruptions that God sends and to the changes that they might bring to our way of looking at things.

SUMMARY

1. Interruptions to the flow of everyday life can be both frustrating and liberating; a heavy snowfall can be inconvenient and dangerous, but it also can result in that rare treat – a day off school.

2. There is a “getting back to normal” feel to Mary and Joseph’s actions as they take Jesus to the Temple to perform the rituals after childbirth. But that ritual is interrupted by Simeon and Anna as they prophesy about the child.

3. Our experience of Christian life is often very much like Mary and Joseph’s: it is in the interruptions to everyday life that God speaks. We need to be able to take the time to hear.

Julie Bowen

First Sunday After the Epiphany/The Baptism of Our Lord

January 10, 2010 – First Sunday After the Epiphany/The Baptism of Our Lord Year C

Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

"I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky." These lovely works by poet John Masefield talk about the sailor's almost irresistible draw to the water.

It’s been said that since our bodies may be up to 75 percent water, we are automatically drawn to water. We know certainly that the body cannot exist without water – picture the old film Ice Cold In Alex where the soldiers in lorry are overcome with heat and exhaustion in the desert, no oasis in sight, a burning sun scorching the sand. No flowing streams, no rain, no hope for those caught unprepared in the desert. It’s as if heat and drought themselves yearn for water and so pull the water of life out of living things until bones collapse and blanch on the desert floor.

“I must go down to the sea again.”

Our hearts ache for the touch of water on our dry skin when we consider the desert. But then we imagine other films, “The Perfect Storm” or “Moby Dick.” We remember the desperation and horror of those caught in real-life tsunamis. Plenty of water there. More than plenty – too much. Instead of being life-giving, the water brings death. The sea, the blue-green and tranquil sea that painters love to capture on a beautiful summer’s day, becomes an enormous force, bigger than life, dangerous, frightening. It becomes black with fury, tossing ships like toys, overwhelming miles of landscape and claiming to its black depths lives, villages, and a future’s hope.

Water – life and death – hope and despair. In a way, we have absolutely no control over water; some pray for rain, others pray for the rain to stop. Water, like the air we breathe, is completely essential, and yet it brings death as well as life. Perhaps it’s those properties of water that make it such a perfect symbol of the grace of baptism.

Water is one of the most evident features in scripture. From the graceful beginning words of Genesis where the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters, through the story of Noah and the covenant between God and God’s people, to the Red Sea, and then to today’s anointing of Jesus’ ministry through his own baptism, water has woven the story of God’s life and ours together.

Baptismal water flows over us today. In Isaiah, we’re reminded that even as we pass through raging waters, God is with us. Overflowing rivers will not drown God’s people. And why? Because the word of the Lord through Isaiah says, “Fear not: for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name, and you are mine.” Of course water here is an image. Earthly water and fire – another image – can do us bodily harm, but when we dig deeper and hear what God is saying, we realize that God is reminding us that no earthly thing can keep us from the love and comfort of God. Even if natural water or fire overwhelms our bodies, God’s spirit is with us. God’s love comforts and heals.

In the gospel, water is used both figuratively and literally. John the Baptist offers the people of that time a baptism of repentance. The Jews are drawn to the waters of the Jordan to be cleansed of their unfaithfulness to God’s law. They are drawn by John’s words. Many may be drawn by the simplicity of his message. This is how you can live lives faithful to God’s law: tax collectors, don’t cheat; soldiers, don’t threaten or extort; all of you, share what you have with the poor. John offered them a chance to be renewed. And this was a very good thing. The Jordan’s water cleansed both body and soul.

It seems sensible that some would mistake John for the Messiah, but John introduces Jesus by using the two images heard in Isaiah: water and fire. “He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” This is a new baptism. This new baptism will do more than forgive sins, it will create the community of God. This community would be guided by the Holy Spirit. This baptism announced that the kingdom of God was at hand. As the heavens opened at Jesus’ baptism, the voice of God anointed the mission and ministry Jesus would live out among God’s people. God has pitched a tent among the people.

This isn’t just an historical telling of the start of Jesus’ ministry. This message is for us, too. But you might say, we know this story. We know it’s important to be baptized. We even baptize babies, not only adults, as they did in the early church.

But do we really know? Do we really take our baptisms seriously today? We certainly still take water seriously, its ability to effect both life and death, but if we really took our baptism seriously, wouldn’t our world and our church look different? Think about those promises we made at our baptism and then reaffirmed at our confirmations. We promised to keep alive the apostles’ teachings and the prayers. We promised, as those people did at the Jordan, to acknowledge our sins, repent, and return to the Lord. We promised to see Christ in each other and to respect the dignity of every human being. We promised to work for justice and peace. We didn’t promise just to think all these things would be nice. We promised to DO something about them – to WORK for them. Are we? From the look of the world and the church, we must not be doing too good a job.

This is why we have a lectionary cycle. This is why the church asks us to consider the story of our salvation, and everything that entails, over three years’ of readings. It helps us to look at all God has done for us. It helps us to remember that no matter what, God cares deeply for us and promises to be our strength. Hearing again and again the story of John and Jesus at the Jordan should cement in our minds that we must keep the mission and ministry of Jesus alive. We are asked to pray. We are asked to keep Jesus’ teaching alive by sharing in the liturgy, preaching God’s word, and then taking what we have learned out to others.

"I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;"

Our call to keep alive the good news of the gospel and to spread the love and compassion of God cannot be denied.

The Pastor as Narrative Leader

My Archdeacon, The Ven. Dr. Paul Wright sent me this...

The Pastor as Narrative Leader
by N. Graham Standish

Humans are living stories of experience. Our lives can be scripted like a narrative. In fact, when we think of individual lives in this way, what we discover is that those who live what seem to be successful lives have a generally compelling life narrative of overcoming obstacles in order to achieve. Those who seem to have dysfunctional lives often have life stories that read like disconnected or stuck narratives in which the main character struggles to overcome obstacles. Instead of overcoming obstacles, these obstacles overwhelm her or his life. Understanding the role of story is crucial to understanding the role narrative plays in leadership.

Over the years I have noticed a definite difference between good leaders and great leaders, a difference that is more than just a matter of great leaders doing certain things better than good leaders. Good leaders lead people toward a goal. They are able to articulate a common aim for an organization, a department, a team, or a congregation. They are able to get people on board enough so that the goals become common goals. And these good leaders are able to motivate people to want to achieve these goals.

What seems to make great leaders great is not that they are better at envisioning and articulating goals, as well as being better at uniting and motivating people to achieve these goals. What I notice is that great leaders seem to craft a story, a story that inspires others in the organization, team, or congregation so that they willingly become a part of and live out this story in their work and lives. Great leaders, through their whole style of leadership, tell a story about the organization or congregation that becomes a blueprint for its ongoing growth.

To be a narrative leader means to be something very similar to a novel writer. It means to be able to see not only life in general, but also a congregation's life, as an unfolding story that to some extent she is the author of. Obviously the pastor is not the author, but then again, most writers of fiction will tell you that they are not truly the authors of their stories either.

Many writers also speak of writing as a process of listening to their muse.
Pastors also have a muse: Christ. The more open we pastors are to the Spirit as we lead, the more the Spirit guides us not only to craft our own story, or the congregation's story, but also to make these stories part of the larger story that God is writing about life throughout the universe. The great pastoral leaders write a story discerned through prayer.

As the author listening to his muse, the pastor recognizes when the congregation is or isn't meshing with God's story. And he finds a way to bring it back into harmony. At the same time, he still sees pain, crisis, death, birth, divorce, marriage, difficulty, and celebration as crucial elements of the story. He understands that without these elements, the story has no life. As a result, he is always looking for ways to turn the more difficult situations into times of redemption, reconciliation, and resurrection.

Adapted from Living Our Story: Narrative Leadership and Congregational Culture, edited by Larry A. Golemon, copyright C 2010 by the Alban Institute.

The Second Sunday of Advent 2009

“And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways.” — Luke 1:76

Imagine for a moment a world and society in which our worth and wages were not determined by our work but rather by an entirely different standard. Suppose we were not assessed for our adult skills, but for our childlike abilities – our capacity to be vulnerable and spontaneous, to show our feelings, and to live fully in each moment given to us. Suppose further that our annual performance appraisal was done not by our supervisor at work but by our children – or grandchildren – at home, or perhaps even by “children gathered from west to east,” to borrow words found in our readings today.

It opens up all sorts of possibilities. Those who do not have children of our own would not be let off the hook. A child would be assigned to you for the occasion – preferably one not of our own choosing – just to make the evaluation fair and equitable.

Rather than a rating for promptness, we would probably have a scale reflecting the ability to lose all sense of time and place for hours on end. For the ability to lay carpet or hang wallpaper in a straight line, we would substitute skill with Legos or Tonker Toys or the latest video games. And original contributions to high-quality academic publications would be replaced by interesting bed-time stories, peer-reviewed and assessed by panels of children from the neighbourhood. The talent for making tasty pizza, and hamburgers that taste like Big Macs – preferably seven days a week – would merit extra points on our performance assessment scale.

Our world would certainly be a different place. Some of us would be in serious trouble and would have a lot of catching up to do. However, instead of being encouraged to sign up for evening classes, we would probably be required to enroll in the preschool program for a couple of terms. For all of us, priorities would change in a hurry as we came to terms with the new values and norms. After all, our livelihood would depend on it.

Perhaps we could even try this new way of doing things in the world of politics and high finance. There might be a little confusion at first, but it would be worth it. “No hitting” and “plays well with others” would take on new meaning as we appraised global leaders. And the world would be a more sensible place as Matchbox cars were substituted for BMWs as status symbols, Barbie-doll fashions replaced Prada and Armani, and Pokémon cards became the new coin of the realm.

Alas, the world has a long way to go in learning to cherish the child. Child-care workers are still among the lowest paid professionals in the country. According to some experts, they rank just below casual farm labourers and assistant zoo snake-handlers.
We should seek Child-inspired patterns of living during this holy Advent season. It probably does take a child to lead us back to that which is precious and holy – to the kingdom of heaven itself. A child, after all, would understand about the kingdom of heaven – at least until an adult tried to explain it.

Perhaps this is on Zechariah’s mind in the first chapter of the Gospel of Luke as he encounters his neighbours gathered in the temple for the circumcision of his child. “What then will this child become?” the neighbours ask, as they reflect on the events surrounding the birth of John, who is to become the Baptist. But they are not so much thinking of “child-inspired patterns of living” as they are the destiny and future of the extraordinary child before them.

For the aged Zechariah the answer to their question comes easily as he is “filled with the Holy Spirit” and speaks. “You, my child, shall be called the prophet of the Most High;” he proclaims, “for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways.” His words are an allusion no doubt to the traditional understanding of John’s future role as precursor of the Christ. Yet in some sense it is the child himself who is the prophet of the Most High because every child is an image of the loving and blameless God who sent his Son to be born among us in humble circumstance. Only a child can call us back to the simplicity and fullness of divine love.

If, in our contemporary world, we have learned to dispense with child-inspired patterns of living, we have also all too often learned to dispense with children themselves. Their images haunt us in scenes of famine in faraway lands. We read with horror of their abuse in our own country and elsewhere. In some quarters, children have even become as disposable as holiday wrappings and tinsel, lovely in their festive attire but otherwise nonessentials, neither profit centres nor revenue enhancers.

This Advent season we must learn again to treasure the child, whether it be children of our own families and neighbourhoods or those “gathered from east to west” throughout the world. But we can only do this by first rediscovering and cherishing the child still within each of us – hidden beneath layers of needless complexity and sophistication. Midway through this Advent season of preparation and wonder, we open ourselves to the child who approaches our doorstep in the cold and dark of our winter hearts. Let us welcome that infant visitor and become what John – and we ourselves – are called to be: prophets of the Most High.

Amen.

The First Sunday of Advent 2009

Advent, this season on which we embark today, these few short weeks of repentance, preparation, and expectation, begins with a picture of the end of the world. Jesus, already well aware of the likelihood of his own demise, is preaching prophetically about the destruction of the world people knew. And indeed, just a short 40 years later, in about 70 A.D., the Romans put down the last Jewish uprising, destroyed the temple, and the world for many ended. The Temple was the centre of the world for Jews, who still mourn its loss.

Jesus’ prophetic words give us a chill down the spine as we hear them today. There has been a lot of “distress among nations” for some time now, and people do “faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world.” Trying to explain this passage as fixed in time is not a helpful exercise. In our context today it is just as relevant.

Sometimes you have to say things in a prophetic way to get people’s attention. Sometimes you have to tell people the awful truth: that things are a mess and we are all somehow responsible for it. Sometimes you have to say disturbing things to get people agitated enough to change their behaviour.

Not long ago a couple went to a church, a large and prosperous church, for the first time. As they walked into the building they smiled at a number of people, but no one greeted them. Everyone was preoccupied with herding the choir and acolytes, getting business attended to about the coming bazaar, and depositing their children in Sunday school. As they entered the church, an usher in the back handed them a bulletin while engaged in earnest conversation with someone else, his face turned away from them. Afterward, the couple agreed the congregation was too preoccupied to engage in the simple act of hospitality.

And so are we, too preoccupied. Eugene Peterson, in The Message, translates part of this passage from Luke today, “Don’t let the sharp edge of your expectation get dulled by parties and drinking and shopping” (Luke 21:34). A season of preparation and expectation should permeate all that we do, from expecting and welcoming visitors, to focusing on what’s really important: our relationship with God and the Messiah who is to come.

So, are there any tools offered in this Sunday’s readings, any hope we can grasp, any piece of advice we can take home and dwell upon? Let’s start with the collect. “Keep us alert. Make us attentive to your word, ready to look on your Son when he comes with power and great glory. Make us holy and blameless, ready to stand secure when the day of his coming shakes the world with terror. “
This is a gracious prayer in which we ask God to help us. We can’t do it ourselves. A wise bishop one said, “People fix problems, God redeems messes!”

Let’s play that scene from the church again: It’s Sunday morning. A couple arrives for the first time and they are greeted at the door by someone who says, “Welcome. May I sit with you this morning?” After Church, they are taken to coffee and introduced to the clergy, and others. It’s all about them, and suddenly they’re not strangers, but part of a new community of welcome and light instead of the preoccupied one above.

{In Jeremiah, we get a short and pithy message: “God keeps his promises.” Nobody has to wonder about that. Jeremiah had to tell his wealthy friends and others that things weren’t right between them and God. But he also got to say that God was going to do something about that, even if they weren’t. He was going to re-establish righteousness, a right relationship between God and God’s people. In this brief passage one has the feeling it’s a done deal, so you might as well enjoy the show! The passage also proclaims God’s intention of justice and righteousness in the land – a hope that has sustained faithful people through many faithless times, and continues to do so. God redeems messes.}

In the passage from I Thessalonians the writer prays that the people who are the beloved believers will be blameless before God at the coming of the Lord Jesus with all the saints. And it all comes out of the boundless love that they share with one another. They have imitated Christ, and their reward will be Christ’s sustaining love forever.

So, we have the tools of grace, faith (promises kept), and our capacity to imitate Christ to use in our Advent journey. We can still shop, maybe even go to a party or two, but they’re not the main thing. The main thing is that even when the news is bad, and in the world it’s not very good right now, even when terrible things are happening and we get them flashed live into our homes, they are not God’s message. God’s message is a response. “Stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”

“How much should I give to the Church?”

“How much should I give to the Church?” This is the dilemma faced by most Anglicans as we consider our pledge and giving to the work of the church. People are often asked to give the church a tithe, a tenth of income. But a tenth of what income? Gross income? Net income? Earned income? Investment income? It’s just too confusing.

So here is a radically different way of going about this. Why not give it all – 100% – to the church, or better yet, to God?

Yes, you heard that right. Give 100% of your income to God and the work of the church. While you are at it, throw in your time and talent for good measure. Certainly makes stewardship a lot easier. You do not even need a calculator for this one. Hold nothing back.

How can you and I possibly do this?

Well, when you stop to think about it, we really do not have a choice. As the old saying goes, you can’t take it with you. There are no pockets in burial shrouds. In fact, everything will eventually be returned to God as its rightful owner anyway, including our very lives. So why not be gracious about it and give it all back right now – lock, stock, and barrel?

Truth be told, probably only one person in all of Christian history has ever come close to succeeding at this. That is none other than the humble Saint Francis of Assisi, whose feast is celebrated in many churches today, October Fourth. Having turned all of his possessions and great family wealth over to the poor and downtrodden of his community, Francis literally stood at the cathedral steps shivering in his loin cloth until the mortified bishop came along and covered him with his robes.

Francis gloried in what he called holy poverty and even spoke of “Lady Poverty” as his bride in Christ. Unencumbered by worldly distractions and possessions, he experienced the utter freedom and abandon of “the little children” mentioned in today’s gospel account. Others soon came to join Francis in a life of simple community and prayer. They became known as Franciscans.

While such radical gospel living may have worked well enough for Francis and his followers centuries ago, it might prove a bit more problematic for us today, as well intentioned as we may be. So here is a suggestion.

Let’s pledge 100% of our income, and ourselves, to God.

But then, let’s make an honest inventory of what we need to survive – and even thrive – as a child of God. The Lord will understand this, as all the things we need come from God to begin with. We might want to keep that roof over our heads, so we will need money for the rent or the mortgage. In today’s world, most of us will probably need a car to get to work and church and practically anywhere. So better put aside something for the car payment and petrol and occasional repairs.

Then there is the matter of eating. Since we no longer live in an agrarian society as did Francis, we will need grocery money to feed ourselves and our family. And of course these days who could dare forget to figure in the high cost of dental care and education? But after we have calculated out what we truly need and added in a little more for entertainment because “God loves a cheerful giver,” the rest will go to God and the work of the church. For most of us, this will probably come out somewhere around 10%. For a few, perhaps more.

Why go through this exercise? Why not just give the 10% in the first place and be done with it?
Well, you can certainly do that if you want to. And God bless you for it! But for the rest of us, it can be a worthwhile exercise to inventory our lives at least once a year, remembering that we “all have one Father,” as our lesson from Hebrews tells us. We are all God’s children.

Jesus demonstrates in today’s gospel account that it is to such as “the little children” gathered in his arms “that the kingdom of God belongs.” Little children of course know implicitly that “the kingdom of God” is the only treasure in life worth having – at least until the example of grown-ups teaches them otherwise. Alas many folks today, children and grown-ups alike, stand little chance of finding the kingdom amid the clutter of their busy lives filled with playthings and possessions too numerous to count.

Like Francis, we all need to simplify and we all need to remember the kingdom.
Amen.

Invitation to a Public Forum

PUBLIC FORUM
To discuss the recent EDF Networks Power cuts to be held at Saint Martin’s The Parish Church of Barnehurst, Erith Road, Barnehurst, Kent. DA7 6LE

Wednesday 29th of July at 7:30pm (doors open at 6:30pm)

As you will be well aware the recent power cuts in the DA postcode areas have caused much distress to many members of the public. Saint Martin’s Church is hosting a Public Forum to debate and discuss the power cuts and the way that EDF Networks have handled them.

Confirmed members of the panel will include David Evennett MP, Local Councillors, The Head of Bexley Council, Directors and Senior Management from EDF Networks plus other politicians and several members of the press.

Tea and coffee will be served afterwards.

For more details please phone The Rev’d. Gareth Bowen 01322 523344

Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

The early Christians adopted a simple drawing of a boat with a cross for a mast as one of the symbols of the church. In an age of persecutions from the outside and controversy and conflict on the inside, in their experience, the emerging church must have seemed like a boat on a storm-tossed sea. Recalling the story of Jesus' calming of the sea, like those first disciples in the boat, the early Christians must have joined in their desperate prayer, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

Little has changed in the intervening years. The winds of change and the waters of chaos continue to beat hard on the worldwide church and the people of faith. Christians are still being martyred in shocking numbers in tribal, ethnic, and religious wars around the world. At home, the church is fiercely divided around issues of authority, liturgy, sexuality, and cultural diversity, so that Synods and Conferences can start with feelings of foreboding as they look to the business before them with suspicious eyes, preparing to build alliances of power to bolster their respective sides. Today, the prayer of many in the church is: "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

Our private lives are not spared stress and storm as our individual little boats are tossed about by the waves of economic uncertainty and change, war, divorce, sickness, and death. Hardly a week goes by that we do not face the fearsome realities of these events, either impacting us personally or our neighbours or our friends in the church, and nightly the troublesome images of television news intrude into our homes from the larger world. "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?"

In today's Gospel, our Lord calms the wind and the waves and says to the tense disciples, "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" He surely intended the link between faith and fear. The opposite of faith is not doubt or unbelief; those tend to be doctrinal differences. No, the opposite of faith more often as not is fear. We fear the unknown. We fear the undiagnosed lump in the breast, or the persistent cough. We fear infections or, Swine Flu. We fear losing control of our bodies and our health because of aging. We worry about how changes in politics, technology, or the economy will influence our jobs and the income from our savings and retirement funds. We fear people who are different to us, that is why the BNP has managed to get 2 seats in the European Parliament, fear. Fear is like waves ever seeking to knock us off our footing -- our faith footing.

The story that follows, one of faith in a potentially fearful situation, was told by a Church minister. He told of his days as a Navy submariner during World War II. "We would often come under depth charge attack," he said. "The other sailors would be trembling with fear, while I just leaned back and read a book. One of them asked how I could be so calm. I explained to him that in my childhood I had very little supervision from my parents, so I spent many hours each day at the beach. Sometimes a huge breaking wave would catch me by surprise and drag me under the water, rolling me in the sand. But I learned when I would just relax thousands of air bubbles like the fingers of God would catch me up and lift me to the surface. Now, whenever I find myself in trouble, I just relax and wait for the fingers of God to reach under me and lift me up."

Faith is a stance toward life. According to psychologist Erik Erikson, faith is a confidence that is typically acquired very early in life when a child learns to expect his or her environment and the people in it to be reliable and trustworthy. During the Cold War, when we were all living with the possibility of nuclear annihilation, some researchers interviewed children to see how worried they were of nuclear war. What they discovered was that the children with the least amount of fear were those whose parents were active in nuclear disarmament efforts, or who regularly attended church, or who were deeply involved in the social issues of their communities. These parents did not feel hopeless in the face of tremendous challenges. They invested themselves in actions to change the world around them and remained optimistic that what they could contribute would make a difference. As a result, the attitudes of the parents infected the emotional and intellectual stance of their children. These children did not feel helpless. Rather, they saw that their parents and their church and the other involved citizens of their community maintained faith and were doing something toward resolving problems.

I once met a man who, several years ago, within a period of six months, lost his last surviving parent and grandparent, as well as a favourite aunt and uncle. It dawned on him at the time that all of the people in his life who loved him unconditionally were dead, and that he was out in the front of the line. About the same time, he was made redundant because of lack of funding. In those painful and challenging months, he wrote down his own definition of faith. I share it with you: Faith is the simple trust that life still can be good despite the fact that it is very painful and difficult. Out of the worst of experiences that he could have imagined, he found many little bubbles of love, joy, and hope in the form of friends, family, and church lifting him upward like the fingers of God. And the worst year of his life was followed by what he declares to have been one of the best years of his life.

"Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" In these rather impatient words directed to his disciples, our Lord brings into focus to the polarities of faith and fear. Faith is a stance and how we stand up to those things that would threaten us and how we manage our fears makes all the difference. In the midst of troubles, try reaching up your hand to God and saying, "Help!" And when you reach your hand out to others around you and say, "Help!" the fingers of God will never fail to reach down and lift you into new and reassuring experiences of God's grace. AMEN.

Trinity Sunday 2009

As Christians we have a different and distinctive way of understanding God, one that sets us apart from everybody else. And even though the prayers, the creeds, and most of the symbols we use in worship are thoroughly Trinitarian, the bulk of our thinking about God is not.

So, since today is Trinity Sunday, the day when Curates traditionally preach (because the Trinity is such a big subject), we are called upon to pay special attention to the way God has been revealed in the Christian faith, we should consider the Trinity. Of course, God is a whole lot bigger than anything we can say or imagine, so all references to God will be at best metaphorical and incomplete. At the same time, this vision of the Trinity of God is true, and it matters, and it makes a difference.

There are two basic perspectives we can bring to the Trinity, to the doctrine that one God exists in three persons: the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. On the one hand, the Trinity describes the way that we, as Christians, experience God. We know God as God is revealed in the person and life of Jesus -- and this revelation happens by and through the Holy Spirit. That is, the Trinity speaks to how we discover and experience who God is. This is the perspective usually offered when talking or preaching about the Trinity.

But there’s more. The doctrine of the Trinity also talks about who God is; it talks about what God is really like inside. This is where the mystics and the theologians sort of run together, and speak perhaps with more poetry and awe than precision. But let’s look for just a minute at what they say about God, borrowing some language from the third century.

Once upon a time, way before the beginning of everything -- not at the beginning, but before the beginning -- God the Father, who is love and who therefore must love, God the Father speaks his own name; He says his own word. And God the Son is begotten -- true God from true God, begotten not made, of one being with the Father. The Son is the second person of the Trinity. Later, after the beginning, the Son will become incarnate from the Virgin Mary, and will be born as Jesus of Nazareth. The Son is what happens when the Father expresses Himself, when the Father reaches out in His love. Now, the Son loves the Father, for the Son is the Father’s word, the Father’s self. And the Father loves the Son, totally and without reservation, and so the Father and the Son are bound together in love.

This love, which binds together the Father and the Son, is also real. This love is God the Holy Spirit -- the Lord, the giver of life, who proceeds from the Father and the Son. And the Son and the Spirit are of the same substance, the same stuff, as the Father; that’s the only stuff there is. In this way the Godhead is complete. Three persons, each distinct, each real, each from before the beginning, each and all are one God. The one-ness of God is discovered precisely in the free act of love by which the three persons of the Trinity choose to give all to each other. This relationship is what makes God who God is. Put another way, God is what happens when the Father loves the Son in the Spirit.

St. Augustine says this about the Trinity: “Now, love is of someone who loves, and something is loved with love. So then there are three: the lover, the beloved, and the love.” This relationship of love, God the Holy Trinity, is the foundation, the bedrock of the universe; it is the heartbeat of all creation. Everything that is begins here, has its purpose and its meaning here, and will find its fulfilment here.

Such is the living centre of the Christian understanding of God. We insist that God is not a mean old man with a beard; that God is not some unconscious force out of Star Wars; and that God is not that peculiar little committee -- two guys and a dove -- that we often imagine. Instead, God exists, at His heart, as a relationship of love -- one God in three persons, the well-spring of existence.

That’s a quick look at the Trinity, at our alternative to the “mere monotheism”. It is a complex, dynamic, and exciting understanding of who God is and what God is like. Like any good theology, it has consequences, and it sets the stage for how we can live.

If you think about it for a minute, it’s no wonder, as Peter says, that the Church learned very early that they could tell whether they were truly entering the mystery of Christ by how well they were managing to love one another. Relationships of love are what God is all about.

And it is no wonder that the one new commandment that Jesus gives us is the commandment to love one another; which is the commandment to imitate Jesus and his life -- to imitate his life as a human being among us, and at the same time to imitate his life as the only begotten Son.

It is through this command, seen in the light of our notion of God as the Trinity, that we can begin to see what God really wants from us and what God really wants for us. God’s will for us, God’s desire for us, is, first of all and most of all, that we choose to share his life -- that we become more and more deeply a part of that conversation of love, that constant, obedient, and joyful relationship that is the very core of who God is.

After all, we are created in God’s image -- in the image of the Trinity. So, the more our lives are shaped and formed by the life of love we see in the person of Christ and in the life of God, the closer we get to our best and truest selves. The more we become who we really are.

This business of the Trinity is not just abstract theology, it is very immediate, and very personal. In some very important ways, it is about us -- about us here and now; and about us forever.

The heart of creation is love, and we are both created and invited to enter that love, and to share that love. The divine love is our source, our vision, and our final end. That is good news. It is good news about why we exist; and it is good news about our destiny. It is worth paying some attention to.

Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui Sancto. Amen.

Sermon for the Feast of The Ascension

So much has happened. We have now walked through the story of His life, death, and resurrection. Now, with the Ascension of Jesus into heaven, so much more is promised – but not yet fully given.

Jesus’ last words in The Gospel According to Matthew restate the promise, “Remember: I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Yet, before we receive this gift in its fullness, we will pass through a time when it feels as if we’ve been left to our own devices. What is there to be learned in that time?

In our collect for this feast day of the Ascension, we recite that “that when Christ returns in glory all nations may be gathered into the kingdom.”

We may have thought that Jesus came just for some of us, to redeem only a portion of God’s creation. Those who first followed Jesus and were blessed to be personally reconciled with the Risen Lord, face to face, and who returned to rejoin the fold – they probably believed that at first.

But in this magnificent mystery of Jesus’ Ascension, the glory shared so far with but a few radiates out to fill every corner of creation – including those places we may have presumed were irredeemable.

The Ascension is essentially a festival of the future. By it, we see that the life we receive by faith has a destiny, and that destiny includes far more than we have yet asked or imagined. We are called to move with God in the power of the Spirit as it is being given, to move outside our usual circle to seek and serve God’s presence and life in every corner of creation. This will be for us both a struggle and a delight.

Of course, we need to believe we share this calling and give ourselves to be lifted up by Christ and with Christ, allowing God to forgive and heal us, to send us forth empowered, just as Jesus was sent into the world. With Jesus, we are to be incarnate in daily life, to speak truth to power, to extend a healing touch to those from whom others would flee, and to be ready to take up the cross we are given daily. We are to follow Jesus, even through death, into new life.

Are we ready to embrace so full a calling for ourselves?

Jesus gave us what came to be called ‘the Great Commission’, “go and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Teach these new disciples to obey all the commands I have given you. And be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

And that’s it... there is no back-up plan.

No back-up plan because the grace set free by the Resurrection, the Ascension, and ultimately the gift of the Holy Spirit is sufficient to affect God’s plan of salvation. The abiding question is whether and how we will choose to join in that work. Will we participate fully in the mending of creation, or will we choose to stand back and watch from a comfortable distance? And what a tragedy that would be, a choice to refuse the invitation to be fully alive.

It is a gift of love, this calling we have received to be as Jesus was and do as Jesus did, as members of Christ’s body. By baptism, we are embraced and challenged to receive the love God offers us in Jesus, and then to move out to share that love unconditionally.

We can choose not to move with God as the life of God radiates out to fill all of creation. We can choose to turn inward and cling to what we have previously recognized as signs of God’s presence among us. Or we can turn in our circles of faith and face outward, rejoicing to recognize and celebrate where God is present and active, even with many who will continue to serve God’s purpose while totally unaware of it.

There is a word in this for each of us personally. Most of us gravitate toward a limited circle of acquaintances, a comfort zone, to which we stay near. So much of our life energy goes into maintaining the borders of that comfort zone, and keeping close to that safe place. And that is a shame. For we know in our hearts that when fully alive, we will find ourselves stepping out of that circle again and again, to discover the Reign of God in ever new ways.

There is a word in this for us as a church and as congregations as well. In these most challenging and difficult times, with great change underway in our finances, our culture, and our global relationships, most will try to keep steering church life back to our personal comfort zones, to hold on dearly to church life as we’ve always known it. But the Risen and Ascended Lord, who is filling all things, calls us to step out of our comfort zone and discover new ways to celebrate life and love, and to share boldly in the work of reconciling the whole world to God.

All of creation is being filled with the life and healing power of God. When we remember this, it changes how we experience everything. For then we will have confidence that whatever we are called to endure now will lead us in God’s time and in God’s way to be raised and lifted up with Jesus to draw the whole world into deeper companionship with God and one another in Christ.

Amen.

To comment on this posting please email... fr.gareth@priest.com

Racist politics - why should Christians be concerned?

This has been taken from a paper published by The Diocese of Southwark Social Responsibility & Regeneration Working Group and Minority Ethnic Anglican Concerns Committee (MEACC). It is reproduced here with permission.

Racist politics - why should Christians be concerned?

Elections to the European Parliament 4 June 2009

“In the June 2009 elections to the European Parliament it is important that all Christians vote and vote in such a way as to ensure that parties with racist views are repudiated at the polls.”
The Rt Revd Tom Butler, Bishop of Southwark

The British National Party has made gains in local elections in recent years. This paper seeks to help Christians ask important questions about racist political groups like the BNP and articulate a strong and informed response, based on the Christian belief that all people are created as one race, the human race.

Most Churches shy away from instructing people on how to vote but are agreed that the racist policies and philosophy of the British National Party are incompatible with Christian faith. Far right political groups, of which the British National Party is the prime example, often make “British-ness” a central motif in their policies, but many Christians believe there is something far more sinister underlying this emphasis.

The great majority of Christians believe such sentiments are directly opposed to the Christian view that all people are made in the image of God, and to the vision of a just community where people of all backgrounds live together in equality. The BNP protests that it does not promote racial hatred: its words often have the opposite effect.

The tactics of racist political groups
Churches opposed to this brand of politics have a double challenge: not only does the number of candidates from far-right parties fielded in local, regional and national elections continue to rise, but increasingly there are elected councillors representing those parties. The BNP will try to use their support in certain areas as a platform for winning a parliamentary or London Assembly seat or take control of a local council.

The BNP also has strong links with ‘Civil Liberty’, a lawyers’ association, and ‘Solidarity’, a trade union led by a long-time BNP activist. In local campaigns, frequent tactics include focusing on seemingly ‘race-neutral’ issues such as litter, using ‘religion’ as a shorthand for race, targeting predominantly white neighbourhoods that adjoin more mixed communities and generally exploiting dysfunctional local politics.

It has also been noted that the current focus on migration from now figures strongly in the campaigns of far-right parties, giving a new twist to the racist agenda. An emphasis reinforced by the problems of unemployment that are the result of the economic recession.

What do the Churches say?
Many denominations and other Christian leaders have expressed their concern about and their opposition to far-right political parties whose views many would consider to be racist.

In the Diocese of Southwark the Diocesan Synod passed the following statement at its meeting in November 2007 for the Greater London Assembly and Mayoral Elections 2008. The principles should be applied to the European elections.

“The Bishops and Synod of the Diocese of Southwark call upon the parishes and people of the diocese to take an active part in the election for the Mayor of London and the London Assembly in 2008. Church members are reminded of the value of casting their votes, not least because this would reduce the proportion of votes going to parties which promote racist policies incompatible with Christian discipleship. The parishes and people are urged to work with ecumenical partners to promote Christian teachings and values in all political dialogue and in particular;

To ensure that respect for all people is part of the contribution made by churches to local dialogue

To emphasise that respect for all people requires equality and justice for all people

To ensure that where churches make their buildings available for hustings meetings that any party advocating racist policies are not invited nor permitted to take part in the meeting

To ensure that no literature or promotional material from any political party which advocates racist policies is permitted in any church building nor placed on any church notice board

To co-operate with other groups and organisations working towards these goals.”

What are Christians doing?
BNP electoral success is not one-way traffic. In several places churches have joined forces with other local groups to reverse far-right gains in council elections. A briefing note released by the Church of England in February 2007 makes a number of suggestions. “Be aware of the beliefs and activities of parties that promote racism… Be aware of the way such parties mis-use and distort claims for the word ‘Christian’ in their campaigns and literature… Get advice from those with long experience in dealing with such parties… This is not an area where individuals should work on their own: experience indicates that locally based alliances and strategies are the most effective.”

Questions to wrestle with
Church leaders are unanimous in condemning political views that have racist overtones, but local clergy and members of congregations are in the front-line when it comes to dealing with community issues. The following are some of the questions that churches at a local level may wish to address in order to develop a response to far-right political parties both at election times and also where councillors with a racist agenda have been elected.

What is the level of support for racist political groups in your area and what position, if any, do they have on the local council?

What are the biblical and theological objections to racist political policies?

How is it possible to oppose racist politics without telling people how to vote?

How can Christians support a positive and inclusive vision rather than taking a negative stance against views of which they disapprove?

How should local clergy respond when they find themselves attending functions where candidates or elected members from racist parties may be present?

What local alliances can churches form to promote unity in the community and oppose racist politics?

What can we do to tackle the reasons why people vote BNP?

How can we encourage local church folk to be more engaged in local non-party and party political life?

How can we play a part in telling positive stories to counter the negative stories of the BNP?

How can education for racial justice be built into the year-round programme of a local church?

Useful web links
http://www.cofe.anglican.org/

www.ctbi.org.uk/CB/14

http://www.methodist.org.uk/ - contains background information, suggestions for action and resources for churches. Look for “political extremism” under the A-Z

www.methodist.org.uk/downloads/pi_extremistparties_guidelines_0407.doc

For further information:
Terry Drummond 020 8769 3256 terry.drummond@southwark.anglican.org
Lola Brown 020 7939 9418 lola.brown@southwark.anglican.org
With thanks to The Diocese of Southwark, CTBI Racial Justice Team and the Barking Episcopal Area.

Saint George's Day Sermon 2009

2 Timothy 2.3-13

Share in suffering like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving in the army gets entangled in everyday affairs; the soldier’s aim is to please the enlisting officer. And in the case of an athlete, no one is crowned without competing according to the rules. It is the farmer who does the work who ought to have the first share of the crops. Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in all things.

Remember Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, a descendant of David – that is my gospel, for which I suffer hardship, even to the point of being chained like a criminal. But the word of God is not chained. Therefore I endure everything for the sake of the elect, so that they may also obtain the salvation that is in Christ Jesus, with eternal glory. The saying is sure:
If we have died with him, we will also live with him;
if we endure, we will also reign with him;
if we deny him, he will also deny us;
if we are faithless, he remains faithful –
for he cannot deny himself.

John 15.18-21

Jesus said to his disciples: ‘If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you. If you belonged to the world, the world would love you as its own. Because you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world – therefore the world hates you. Remember the word that I said to you, “Servants are not greater than their master.” If they persecuted me, they will persecute you; if they kept my word, they will keep yours also. But they will do all these things to you on account of my name, because they do not know him who sent me.’

Sermon:-

Walking around lately I have noticed, as I'm sure you have too, by a huge number of flags on car aerials, Red cross on a white background. And in the window of a card shop I was encouraged to buy, and presumably send, a St George's Day card. All very odd. . Because I'm sure if you asked even a handful of English men and women when their patron saint's day was they wouldn't have a clue. But then the advertising industry are ever mindful of opportunities to sell us stuff, as we've seen with the commercialisation of Christmas, and now even Easter, though that in the popular mind I suspect that has more to do with chocolate than the Resurrection.

Compare this with St Patrick, St David, and St Andrew. I think such universal ignorance would not be matched in Ireland, Wales, or Scotland. We only have to think of the huge St Patrick's Day parades in New York, or the wearing of daffodils or leeks in the button hole on St David's day, to realise that England’s patron saint is, well, shall we say a little less popular.

Which is a shame. I suspect one of the reasons is that not much is known about him, and his links to England at least date only from the period after the Crusades. He is greatly venerated by the Orthodox and Oriental Orthodox churches, and though demoted by the Roman Catholic calendar of saints in 1963 to optional veneration, you will be happy to know that he was reinstated in 2000. He is the patron saint of - wait for it - Aragon, Canada, Catalonia, China - that was a surprise -, Ethiopia, Georgia, Greece, Montenegro, Palestine, Portugal, Russia, and Serbia, so we can scarcely lay exclusive claim to him. He is also patron saint of many cities as diverse as Moscow, Beirut and Genoa, and the patron saint of everything from soldiers (with Saint Martin) and scouts to helping those suffering from leprosy and plague. He obviously has universal appeal. But what can he say to us today?

Well, as far as being patron saint of England, in our increasingly diverse society a Greek-speaking Christian Turk who lived in Palestine and joined the Roman army and was beheaded for refusing to persecute Christians, who as a group would have come from all over the Mediterranean and therefore contained many nationalities - well, as a patron saint of multi-cultural and multi-lingual England he seems peculiarly appropriate. He is not only representative of what it means to stand up for Christian beliefs, and pay the ultimate price, but also of the diversity and inclusiveness of the kind of Christianity which sees all fellow Christian men and women as brothers and sisters, wherever they hail from. Ironic considering the current neo-fascist connotation the flag of Saint George has gained through the BNP and the National Front still irony often comes out of ignorance!
Now cast your mind back to that long list of countries of which George is patron. How many of those would we feel safe in being a Christian? China has only recently relaxed its views on Christianity and the promotion of the Gospel, as has Russia; Serbia we all know about; and times are still tough for Christians in Palestine. Persecution of Christians continues all round the world. What we in England take for granted, toleration, is not a given in many, many parts of the world.

As we approach the Eucharist, it is as well for us to remind ourselves on St George's Day of what it means to be able to participate so freely in this country in this most intimate and personal encounter with our risen Lord. However sketchy are the precise details of George's life, what he stands for is in a sense far more important. Dragons and maidens and the rescuing of maidens from dragons has everything to do with myth but nothing to do with martyrdom. George refused to persecute Christians, and for that he lost his life. He joined a long line of martyrs which stretched behind him, and which stretch forward to us today, and to whose number many will be added in the future. He would not compromise, and he did what was right. Which is why, even though I count myself as Welsh, I for one am proud to call him the patron saint of England.

Amen