Advent word - Home

Merry Christmas and thank you to anyone who's taken the time to read my blog this advent. I'm always surprised that people do read it- I do it as a way of ensuring I take some time to think and be with God each day.

In the craziness of our lives, remember one thing: that God really does love you, and wants to make a home in your heart just as he made a home in that stable so many years ago.

-Br. James Koester

This is the sermon I preached at midnight mass, based upon Isaiah 9:2-7, Titus 2:11-14 and Luke 2:1-14. It reuses/rejigs part of a sermon on storytelling I wrote in October 2015.

I wonder what your favourite stories were growing up? I loved books as a child, I was always reading. When it came to fiction I loved fantasy and writers who built their own worlds like Narnia, Middlearth and Discworld.
Then there were bible stories- somewhere between fable, myth and reality. I went to Sunday school from being very small so I knew all the bible stories we tell to children, I think my favourite was always the story of Moses’ birth and how his mother saved him, but there were other Old Testament tales such as the Garden of Eden, Noah and David and Goliath. Then there were the gospel stories- feeding the 5000, Jesus riding a donkey into Jerusalem and of course the Nativity story which we’ve just heard retold.
These stories were part of my childhood, part of me, absolutely ingrained in me. I was really shocked when I went to high school and realised how few of my classmates knew these bible stories. It was just normal to me, going to church and having these tales be part of me, and I’m sure these stories have helped to shape me, my beliefs and my life, just as the stories others grow up with shaped theirs.
Because narrative and story-telling is an incredibly powerful thing. Stories matter. We’re a race of story tellers. Novels, fairy tales, family stories and bible stories. We remember them, we share them, and we pass them on to our children. Our story telling expands far beyond books or even the more ancient tradition of oral storytelling. Our lives are packed with narrative- TV, cinema, DVDs, online streaming, gaming- we may be more often immersed in imagined worlds than the real one. I could probably tell you more about the geography of Discworld than Europe.
Every culture has its important stories, those which are deeply imbedded in our history. They may go some way to encapsulate the core beliefs of that culture or society, family stories may do the same. This is who we are, where we’ve come from, this is what we believe. Stories may reinforce the stereotypes we buy into, or serve to challenge them. The stories our leaders tell us may shape how we view our national identities, and those of other nations.
The Hebrew people - like Mary and Joseph - would have grown up hearing many of the same stories as you and I – Moses, David and Noah. These stories are part of their identity, but I don’t think I had any bible picture books about the prophet Isaiah. There’s familiarity in the Isaiah reading, some of the words are repeated in the new testament and in our Anglican liturgies, and Isaiah is present throughout our Advent journey in the readings.
Isaiah and this narrative or story of the coming messiah would have been as woven into Mary and Joseph’s lives, as the Nativity or resurrection are for us. Children would know them as well as  I knew the stories I learned in Sunday school.
For a child has been born for us,
   a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders;
   and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
   Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
His authority shall grow continually,
   and there shall be endless peace
Parts of the scripture led to expectations of what kind of a leader the Messiah would be; defeating armies, ruling nations, bringing peace. This saviour would be a great military leader or mighty king and monarch. He’d have to be to save and subdue.
And yet these expectations are completely subverted in the gospels. The expected military leader or political king becomes a prophet, a teacher and a miracle worker, and more than that, what those hearing the stories and prophecies never would have imagined; the Messiah was God. God incarnate. And it all begins here in the manger, helpless and fragile, a fragile, vulnerable God- what a paradox.
Stanley Hauerwas is a writer on the subject of Christian virtue ethics, and he’s a big believer in the power of narrative. He writes that Christianity doesn’t rest on abstract philosophical principles but on these stories, that God has indeed revealed himself narratively in the history of Israel and in the life of Jesus. These stories shape the character of the individuals and communities where they’re still repeated today. We tell and retell the stories in order to maintain our identity and we see the narrative of our lives within this wider story- the bigger picture.
By telling and retelling the stories about Jesus and his life we build that narrative into our lives and try to reflect something of him. But what story do we want to tell? Where do we want to fit in the story? Will the story of our lives be part of the ongoing revelation of the God who has concern for the least, most vulnerable members of our society? Who was born amongst the least, visited by the least? Who subverted that expectation that strength comes through military or political power, showing that true power comes when we make ourselves vulnerable.
What we have woven through the bible is the story of a people wanting to be closer to God, yet continually turning away from him, only to have God always draw closer to them again. Because we don’t in any of these stories get closer to God by any of our actions, it’s always God drawing nearer to us, and never more so than in the gift of the Christ-child.
This is our story. The ultimate story. God comes to us and dwells amongst us, reminding us of the infinite possibilities of life available to us, and we celebrate that in this season of good cheer, gift-giving, and community. And we tell and re-tell the Nativity story, reminding ourselves that God did, does and always will draw near to us.
Our part in the story is to reflect that in the way we live our lives, not being afraid to be vulnerable ourselves, honouring those perceived as being the least and most vulnerable and knowing that true power belongs to God and God alone.

What's Your Story?

As always I found today's sermon difficult to write. The challenge this time was having a different audience, as I'm on placement at St Peter's University chaplaincy in Manchester. The congregation are educated, ecumenical, multi cultural and many don't have English as their 1st language. It's a bit longer than I'm used to as well- aiming for 15 minutes instead of 8.
The readings were Jeremiah 31:7-9, Psalm 34 and Mark 10:46-52.

I’m a massive fan of the writer Terry Pratchett. I started to read his books when I was 11, so for most of my life the world he created- the Discworld- has grown and developed alongside me. The narrative of this imagined world actually contains a lot of commentary which I think has shaped how I look at our world- his books contain social commentary, philosophy, ethics, satire of organised religion and even exploration of difficult theories of quantum physics but it’s all woven within a fantasy world and its imagined characters- all of whom, like real people have evolved and changed over the course of the narrative.

Stories matter. We’re a race of story tellers. Novels, fairy tales, family stories and bible stories. We remember them, we share them, and we pass them on to our children. I couldn’t wait until my children were old enough to start sharing the Discworld with. Our story telling expands far beyond books or even the more ancient tradition of oral story telling. Our lives are packed with narrative- TV, cinema, DVDs, online streaming, gaming- we may be more often immersed in imagined worlds than the real one.

Every culture has its important stories, those which are deeply imbedded in our history. They may go some way to encapsulate the core beliefs of that culture or society, family stories may do the same. This is who we are, where we’ve come from, this is what we believe. Stories may reinforce the stereotypes we buy into, or serve to challenge them. The stories our leaders tell us may shape how we view our national identities, and those of other nations. The media too like to use narrative to challenge or strengthen how we view the world or particular groups or issues.

What stories did Bartimaeus, the blind beggar, grow up with? What narrative? “Son of David have mercy on me!” he calls out. He’d heard the rumours- this Nazarene, this Jesus, was rumoured to be the long promised Messiah, woven into the narrative of the Hebrew Scriptures, the stories passed on orally from generation to generation.

It’s a stereotype that those born blind compensate with other senses or skills, but just maybe Bartimaeus had a keen memory for the stories he’d heard from his father or the rabbi. Maybe he’d grown up hearing Jeremiah’s words:
“The days are surely coming, says the LORD, when I will raise up for David a righteous Branch, and he shall reign as king and deal wisely, and shall execute justice and righteousness in the land. In his days Judah will be saved and Israel will live in safety.”
This narrative of the coming messiah was woven into Bartimaeus’ life. The long awaited righteous Son of David. Is it these words “son of David” which cause Jesus to stop and act? Why? What purpose does this gospel story – the healing of Bartimaeus- have in Jesus’ narrative?

I believe that the very last thing today’s gospel is about is a physical healing. Yes it’s part of the narrative, but it’s a device which serves another purpose.

I began training as nurse in 1996, 19 years ago. I qualified in 2000 and ever since have worked at Christie hospital caring for patients undergoing high dose chemotherapy and stem cell transplants. 19 years in healthcare has taught me that illness is indiscriminate of age, race, gender, social standing, religion and righteousness. Some people do badly without explanation and likewise some people do well when you wouldn’t expect them to.

On very rare occasions someone’s recovery could be described as “miraculous”. Do I think God healed them? I honestly don’t know. Consultants generally don’t like giving anyone else the credit. I believe all healing has Gods hand in it, but the established church is very reluctant to take ownership of what might be seen as miraculous healings. At times I’ve prayed- lamented- on my knees for miracles that didn’t come.

So what comes into my mind when I read today’s gospel is why him? Why Bartimaeus? What purpose did Jesus have in healing him? When we look at this healing, and other healing stories in scripture, what we come to understand is that when God miraculously heals someone he’s making a point. Healing glorifies God, reveals his power, fulfils his promises and shows his mercy. It’s part of an ongoing revelation of the character of God and our relationship with him. We must think then what does Bartimaeus being healed reveal about God, within the over-arching narrative of Mark’s gospel.

Son of David, promised Messiah. The king who would come and save. A righteous judge, but also a military leader- he’d have to be to deliver the people from their Roman occupation. By responding to the cry of “Son of David” Jesus is saying “yes. I admit it- that’s me, the messiah” but Jesus admitting he’s the Messiah subverts the expectation of what the messiah will be. This is part of Mark’s wider narrative- the reinterpretation of messiahship. The expected military leader or political king becomes prophet, teacher and miracle worker. Messianic expectations are subverted further later in Mark’s narrative when we see that it’s central to Jesus’ ministry for him to suffer and die.

Jesus chooses this point in the plot to reveal he’s the Messiah as it comes at a pivotal point- straight after today’s gospel, according to St. Mark, Jesus enters Jerusalem. The passion narrative begins. Bartimaeus is healed and immediately follows Jesus, but where is that leading him except to the cross?

Bartimaeus doesn’t need to be healed of his blindness. Physical sight makes no difference to faith. But Jesus knows the importance of a good story, we see this recorded in the gospel parables. What Jesus is doing with Bartimaeus, instead of revealing God through telling a parable, is physically acting out a parable. In this morning’s reading from Jeremiah we hear of the God who will “gather them from the farthest parts of the earth, among them the blind and the lame” and the psalmist “cried, and was heard by the LORD, and was saved from every trouble”. The God revealed in prophecy and poetry in confirmed in this acted out parable. The story arch reveals not only something of God’s character, but signposts what we who follow Jesus are committing to.

Blindness to sight, dark to light, veiled knowledge to true insight. What Bartimaeus receives is a gift from God, but it’s not his physical sight. It’s the true insight, the knowledge, of who Jesus is, and that he must follow him, even if that means following him to the cross. The Messiah will know suffering, as the blind beggar has known suffering. He’ll be rejected as the blind beggar has been rejected.

How did the reality of Jesus compare to the messianic stories heard as a child? Did Bartimaeus really think the Son of David would hear his cry for mercy? The character of God he knew from scripture, the God who wants to gather to himself even the most marginalised and vulnerable in society, is revealed through Jesus responding to his cry and through the narrative device of a physical healing, gifts him with the insight to follow him no matter what.

The bigger picture, the overall sweep of the narrative, and therefore the purpose of this healing, is the revelation of the God who hears the cries of his people, knows what they need, has concern for those suffering but also invites us- even requires us- to follow Jesus and see him suffering, to see Jesus cry out, because only then do we know that this is a God who really understands us and human suffering. And because if we don’t follow Jesus to the cross, we can’t be party to his resurrection. If the narrative ends at Good Friday the story’s incomplete, and without Good Friday there can be no Easter Day.

So how, indeed, is this the word of God for us today? Stanley Hauerwas is a writer on the subject of Christian ethics, and he’s a big believer in the power of narrative. He writes that Christianity rests not on abstract philosophical principles but on stories, that God has indeed revealed himself narratively in the history of Israel and in the life of Jesus. These stories shape the character of the individuals and communities where they’re still repeated today. We tell and retell the stories in order to maintain our identity and we see the narrative of our lives within this wider narrative.

By telling and retelling the stories about Jesus and his life we build that narrative into our lives and try to emulate it. To return to Terry Pratchett he once wrote “Goodness is about what you do. Not what you pray to.” I believe there’s truth in that. If we’re Christians but not attempting to be Christ-like it doesn’t really matter what we label ourselves.

So, what story do we here want to tell? Where do we want to fit in the narrative? Will the story of our lives be part of the ongoing revelation of the God who has concern for the least, most vulnerable members of our society?

The refugee, the abused, the despised, the rejected. As Jesus wove the narrative of his life into the lives of the marginalised so must we. It’s then that our lives touch that of Jesus, and we tell the best story possible.