Wounded but not abandoned

The news is a bit of a downer at the moment, isn’t it? Although I suppose it’s been like that for a while now - Climate change, war, people’s rights being stripped away, and communities divided by ideology…everything feels a bit broken, doesn’t it?

 

And amid all of this, today we celebrate the Feast Day of St Luke, as we’ve done for quite a few years now, with a service of Wholeness and Healing. When people hear the word healing, most of us naturally think about physical healing. And that makes sense on St Luke's Day as in scripture he is called a physician.

 

In today’s Gospel Jesus sends out the 72 to "cure the sick" and in the Old Testament reading, Isaiah speaks of the eyes of the blind being opened and the lame leaping for joy.

 

But the Bible's understanding of healing is much bigger than curing illness so the word I want to think about today is wholeness.

 

Because many of us carry wounds that can’t be seen -maybe grief, anxiety, loneliness, fractured relationships, disappointment, or fear about the future

 

And many of our communities carry wounds too.

The good news of today's readings is that God's healing is about making whole again what might appear broken beyond repair.

 

We have to remind ourselves sometimes that God's vision for creation is wholeness. Isaiah gives us a glimpse of this, which he hopes will strengthen weak hands and calm fearful hearts, and we hear the words echoed through all of scripture 'Do not fear'."

 

We hear of blind eyes opened, deaf ears unstopped, and streams flowing in the desert. This is perhaps less a list of miracles and more a vision of a world being put back together.

 

Fear is replaced by hope, isolation by belonging and places which were bare spring up with new life.

 

It might be that this is what our hearts are yearning for when we feel something in the world or our lives is amiss – not a simple wish for our lives to become easier but a deep longing in our very souls for life to become whole - for those parts of ourselves that feel fractured to be reunited with the person God created us to be.

 

As I've reflected before, sometimes God's work is not making us into someone different but helping us become more fully ourselves. More fully alive. More fully human. More fully the people God intended us to be.

 

There’s a difficult truth at the heart of every healing service; not everyone receives what they pray for. We see Paul’s experience of this in today's reading from 2 Timothy; Paul isn't writing from a place of triumph.

He's tired, abandoned by friends and approaching the end of his life.

 

I don’t feel Paul would claim everything worked out as he’d hoped, that everything he’d prayed for was given to him, but he does tell us that no matter what went wrong "The Lord stood by me and gave me strength."

 

Throughout scripture, history and our own experiences we see that God is often surprising and unexpected - sometimes God heals through restoration, sometimes through peace or reconciliation, sometimes through courage, and sometimes through the strength to take the next step even when it doesn’t feel possible.

 

The Christian promise is not that God prevents or removes what may hurt or harm us, but rather It’s a promise that we’re wounded but not abandoned. And neither is creation. And neither are our communities. And neither are any of those troubling things we see in the 24-hour news cycles.

 

If Jesus were walking around Urmston and Flixton today, where might he see the need for healing? He’d of course see Trafford General and the GP surgeries, but I also suspect he’d notice loneliness -many people surrounded by neighbours and yet feeling completely alone.

 

He might notice anxiety - people worried about money, caring responsibilities, their health, their children, and of course the state of the world.

He might notice how easy it’s become for people to retreat into tribes as we're increasingly encouraged to define ourselves by who we're against. There’re countless voices telling us who to blame for society's problems, often in the name of God or Jesus, but Jesus doesn’t tell the seventy-two:

"Whatever house you enter, if you enter in my name, you’re always right"

But "Whatever house you enter, first say, ‘Peace to this house!’”

 

What if healing begins there?

Could one of the most important ministries of the Church today be helping people rediscover how to live together?

 

Learning to listen before judging, choosing compassion over suspicion and seeing people not as categories but as fellow children of God.

 

And then there’s creation herself. We know something of its wounds - we've seen changing weather patterns, flooding, drought and wildfires much closer to home than perhaps we imagined possible.

 

Creation is groaning but creation is not abandoned. The streams flowing through Isaiah's desert remind us that God's vision of healing includes the whole created order.

The wonderful thing about today's Gospel is that Jesus doesn't simply tell the disciples to pray for healing but sends them out to actively participate in achieving it.

And there’s ways we can do that too:

 

Recognising loneliness and helping alleviate it, offering forgiveness where it’s needed, mending a broken relationship, welcoming someone who feels excluded, actively caring for creation, or standing alongside somebody who is suffering

 

We might not perform miracles, but we can be signs of God's healing kingdom.

 

Jesus tells the seventy-two: "Cure the sick and say to them, 'The kingdom of God has come near to you.'"

Whenever we see healing in the bible it always reveals a little bit more of who God is and it points to God's great plan of making all things whole.

 

Today, we pray for healing.

For ourselves.

For those we love.

For broken relationships.

For our community.

For our world.

For creation.

And we do so with hope.

Because in God’s kingdom fear does not get the last word.

 

Jesus has shown us that even death doesn’t have the last word.

 

For the kingdom of God has come near.

And through Christ, all that is wounded can yet be made whole.

Amen.

Step onto the dancefloor

So… Trinity Sunday. I’ll be honest — this is the one I’ve quietly dodged over the years. Many a preacher has stood before their congregation on Trinity Sunday and tied themself in knots with their Trinity metaphors.

The Trinity is like a shamrock…the Trinity is like water, ice and steam…the Trinity is like Aquafresh toothpaste – although other brands are available. Before you know it, you’ve gone and accidentally explained a heresy from the 4th century. Trinity Sunday heresy is rife in its preaching.

Congregations may politely nod at these sermons, but at the end of it you’ve no more idea of how the Trinity actually works and maybe some really unhelpful and confusing ideas of how it doesn’t. So today, I don’t want to try and explain the Trinity – I don’t think I ever could. Instead, I want to invite you into it.

Because at its heart, the Trinity isn’t a puzzle to be solved. It’s a relationship. Or, as Fr. Richard Rohr beautifully puts it… it’s a divine dance. Dance is about movement, reaction, and being in unison.

Now I did a little bit of dance in my younger days – I even have a medal for coming 3^rd place in a cha cha contest, but dance in my adult years mostly consisted of being in a mosh pit at Jilly’s Rockworld – for anyone who doesn’t know what that means you can ask me questions over coffee!

But however we dance or move our bodies, the Divine Dance of Father, Son, Spirit; Maker, Redeemer, Sustainer; Speaker, Word and Breath – the Divine Dance of the Trinity is never still, but constantly in motion, pouring out towards one another an eternal exchange of love.

You might find this way of thinking about the trinity easy to grasp – or you may be sitting in your pew absolutely flummoxed. As always, the bible readings today have been carefully curated to reflect where we are in the liturgical year- but we don’t find any further explanation in them. Instead, they give us glimpses — windows into this holy mystery.

In Isaiah we read - “Who has measured the waters in the hollow of his hand?" “The Lord is the everlasting God… the Creator… who does not grow weary.”

This gives me a sense of a God so big, so beyond us, as to be uncontainable…and yet…“He gives power to the faint… and strengthens the powerless.”

Despite that vastness, ours isn’t a distant, detached God. This is a God who is both beyond everything, and yet intimately present with us.

Then Paul, in that beautiful closing blessing from Corinthians writes: “The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you…”

Grace, Love and Communion.

This isn’t about doctrine; it gives us something tangible to explain how we experience God. We can see Grace at work, we can feel Love, and we live within Communion with God and each other.

And then we have the Gospel. The risen Jesus stands with his friends — some worshipping, some doubting – and I love when we have a bit of doubt thrown in, I’m sure Thomas in the altar window would agree, because that’s our reality, that’s how church is - a mixture of faith and uncertainty, with a bit prayer and worship thrown in.

Jesus doesn’t separate his disciples into good and bad, the believers and the doubters. He includes all of them in what we call the Great Commission – and this is the reading we have in all our afternoon baptism services.

“Go… baptising… in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit…” Jesus then promises: “I am with you always…to the end of the age." Intimately close to us though our entire lives.

When I try and put the glimpses from each reading together, it gives a picture of a God who is vast and yet comes and meets us where we are.

A God who is grace, love and communion.

A God who is Father, Son and Spirit

It gives me a sense of a God who wants to know us and be in relationship with us.

In Baptism we’re drawn into that relationship with God. When Jesus tells the disciples “go and baptise” he’s telling them their work is to draw everyone they meet into that relationship too.

When we say yes to God’s invitation, we allow ourselves to be drawn into the dance, caught up in the movement of God and living within that flow of love.

If God is a dance of love, then faith isn’t striving to reach God “up there”, always feeling beyond our reach. Faith is noticing that we’re already being held within God’s love, we're already part of the movement.

This view of God can also teach us something about our communal life and how we move together.

Paul says: “live in peace… agree with one another”

This doesn’t mean we all have to think the same things, because we know whether we’re talking about the wider church, or just our little corner of it, we’re never going to be the same as each other.

The wonderful thing is unity doesn’t mean sameness - the Trinity itself isn’t sameness, it’s diversity in relationship, or difference held together in love.

Which means church, at its best, is meant to look a bit like a dance too, sometimes in harmony, and sometimes out of step but continuing to move together, and to make space for each other.

The Cloud of Unknowing, a 14th-century English mystical treatise, teaches that God cannot be grasped by thought or imagination but can be approached through a "cloud of unknowing" sustained by a loving intention.

So maybe Trinity Sunday isn’t about getting our heads around something impossible, maybe it’s about letting go of the need for explanations, trusting the holy mystery and stepping onto the dance floor.

Letting ourselves be drawn into love.

Letting ourselves be held in grace.

And letting ourselves become part of a communion that’s always been there.

We humans love to complicate things, so maybe in times such as these we need to keep it simple;

God isn’t distant or unknowable

God is a community of love.

And we’re already part of that community

It can be so liberating to stop trying to solve the mystery and instead to start living it.

In the name of the Father, 

and of the Son,

and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Listening For Love

May I speak in the name of the One God who is Speaker, Word and Breath. Amen.

I don't know if Anna and Laurie knew when they booked today for Matthew's baptism, but today is Good Shepherd Sunday - a perfect day to welcome one of the newest members of our flock. 

The shepherding imagery weaves through the readings and feels quite familiar and reassuring

In the reading from Acts we hear what life looks like for that first community of Christians when they have heard and followed Jesus. They live together, sharing everything, eating, worshipping and working alongside one another. 

If we read the psalm for today it would unsurprisingly be Psalm 23 - a reminder that we’re known by God, and that God wishes to keep us safe.

But when we listen closely things really aren’t that cosy at all. In the gospel, Jesus is talking about thieves and bandits, about danger and about voices that can’t be trusted. Jesus says sheep need to learn the difference between the voice of the shepherd and those who might wish them harm.

He seems to be implying that there are those who claim to love God, to follow God, and to know God’s will, but aren’t really recognising the true voice of God. Jesus was preaching this at the temple, surrounded by Pharisees and others who definitely didn’t recognise his voice as the voice of God.

Now, sheep get a bad press. Being called a sheep for us usually means being accused of not thinking for ourselves or blindly following the crowd. But we might not be as different from sheep as we’d like to think.

Sheep have actually been proven to be pretty intelligent – they can recognise different faces, they have impressive memories and they experience a wide range of emotions. But when sheep are scared they panic, they behave irrationally.

They cluster, or scatter, or run towards danger, basically losing all sense of direction. And that feels… uncomfortably familiar.

We Humans tend to make our worst decisions when we’re scared. Fear makes us reactive, narrows our judgement, and makes us more likely to listen to voices we’d ignore at other times - and there are always people willing to exploit our fear.

Jesus names them plainly: thieves and bandits — those who don’t enter by the gate, who don’t care for the sheep, who take and scatter and destroy. We don’t need to look very far all these centuries later to hear the voices still exploiting our fears.

They’re the voices that tell us to fear the poor who’ll take more than they deserve, the outsider whose differences from us make them a threat, and the foreigner who threatens and takes. These voices tell us generosity is weakness, that compassion is naïve yet proclaim faith while preaching exclusion.

And those voices can be incredibly loud – and that volume can be amplified by wealth, influence, certainty, and power. The danger is that our fear can make their voices start to sound like wisdom.

Jesus tells us about the Good Shepherd – who loves, protects and leads the flock: “The sheep follow him, because they know his voice.” They might not know the path, or the terrain could be tricky, but the sheep know it’s the right way to go. They put their faith in the one leading them.

The shepherd’s voice never leads by fear. It doesn’t cause the sheep to scatter, or trample the weak for the sake of the strong. The shepherd’s voice leads towards the abundant life Jesus wants for each of us.

Now I’m a massive fan of The Chosen – I’m sure I’ve mentioned it in sermons before, I’ve told Huw to watch it as well, but he’s probably forgot. It’s an incredibly well-made TV series which depicts Jesus’ life, beginning with leaving the wilderness to start his ministry and the 5th series that came out last year finished with Judas’ betrayal – I rewatched the whole thing through Lent.

During the 4th series we see the scene from today’s gospel taking place on the temple steps, and it results in Jesus and the disciples being the victims of an attempted stoning by the Pharisees who are calling Jesus out, appalled at what they call blasphemy. Big James is quite badly injured, and they’re forced to retreat to their lodging house. And they’re scared.

The reality of how dangerous their ministry is hits them.

They realise that whilst they all believe that Jesus is the Messiah, not everyone will believe, not everyone will hear and understand, and some may even be threatened to the point where they want to kill those bringing the message.

It’s a moment of hate and violence as a response to a message of love, and I think that’s still the way some people respond when confronted with the true message of Jesus’ teaching, where the poor, the orphaned, the widowed, the sick, the tax collectors, people with questionable pasts and those cast out through illness are all equally loved and held up in God’s eyes; and to do God’s work is to care for the sick, the prisoner, the marginalised. 

This message of love and inclusion will always threaten those who benefit from exploiting our fears.

Which brings us, uncomfortably, to leadership. Today being Good Shepherd Sunday, is a day we inevitably think about those who have leadership and pastoral responsibility – whether in churches, in communities, or in the public eye.

Like Pope Leo, who recently seemed to become a threat to some powerful people by simply preaching the gospel. It takes courage for our Christian leaders to speak so clearly about love, justice, human dignity, and truth - especially when that brings them into tension with those who the world sees as powerful.

And it takes courage to resist those voices that trade in fear, to refuse a rhetoric of exclusion, violence and dominance, and to declare that our faith can’t be used as a weapon.

It takes courage knowing there will be a backlash, and part of that may well come from within the church. But finding that courage, knowing you must speak up to the fear-mongers, sounds like someone listening for and responding to the shepherd’s voice.

But not all those in leadership have this courage. Sometimes leaders are the same people preying upon our fears.

Jesus tells us something else in the gospel; “I am the gate.” This is a reminder to everyone – those who lead with fear but also us, who may think we’ve got it right, that we’re following Jesus the right way, which might lead us to have strong feelings against, or even hate, those who we think are getting it wrong.

The sheep don’t get to decide who comes through the gate, nor do the shepherds who came after Jesus and neither does the church.

Jesus alone decides who’s in and who’s out. 

He is the gate. 

And whenever we forget that - whenever we start deciding whose lives matter, whose suffering can be ignored, whose dignity is conditional – we’ve stopped listening to the right voice and we’re no longer following the shepherd.

When there are so many voices competing to be heard - political voices, religious voices, media voices, voices of friends, family and colleagues - which voices sound most like love?

Which voices speak about mercy rather than suspicion?

Which voices gather us together rather than scattering us apart?

Which voices speak of lifting up the most vulnerable rather than asking who deserves our help?

As we baptise Matthew this morning, what voices do we want him and our church family to hear as they grow in love, faithfulness and discipleship?

That is how we discern the shepherd’s voice – it leads towards love and leaves fear behind. It guides us into living an abundant life.

So I pray we resist voices that trade in fear. And even if the path is a bit rocky, or unfamiliar, may we have the courage - like sheep who trust their shepherd - to follow where God’s love leads.

Amen.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

The Collect:

O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

First Lesson: Acts 2:42-47

42They devoted themselves to the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers. 43Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. 44All who believed were together and had all things in common; 45they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. 46Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, 47praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved.

Psalm: Psalm 23

1 The Lord is my shepherd; *

       I shall not be in want.

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures *

       and leads me beside still waters.

3 He revives my soul *

       and guides me along right pathways for his Name’s sake.

4 Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

  I shall fear no evil; *

       for you are with me;

       your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

5 You spread a table before me in the presence of those who trouble me; *

       you have anointed my head with oil,

       and my cup is running over.

6 Surely your goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, *

       and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

Second Lesson: 1 Peter 2:19-25

19For it is a credit to you if, being aware of God, you endure pain while suffering unjustly. 20If you endure when you are beaten for doing wrong, what credit is that? But if you endure when you do right and suffer for it, you have God’s approval. 21For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you should follow in his steps. 22“He committed no sin, and no deceit was found in his mouth.” 23When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten; but he entrusted himself to the one who judges justly. 24He himself bore our sins in his body on the cross, so that, free from sins, we might live for righteousness; by his wounds you have been healed. 25For you were going astray like sheep, but now you have returned to the shepherd and guardian of your souls.

Gospel: John 10:1-10

1“Very truly, I tell you, anyone who does not enter the sheepfold by the gate but climbs in by another way is a thief and a bandit. 2The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. 3The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. 4When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. 5They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.” 6Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them. 7So again Jesus said to them, “Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. 8All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. 9I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. 10The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

Making Room

We were rushed off our feet that night, we’d never known the town to be this busy – it was the count you see, the census. Every room was booked up and my husband was just explaining this to yet another family when another road-weary traveller walked in, dusty and tired.

He was a Galilean – you can always tell – but this one was different from the others trying to barter with my husband. He looked very troubled, and with more than just the worry of where to sleep.

He noticed me noticing him and rushed forward – “please madam, is this your inn?” he inquired

“It’s my husband’s, but there’re no rooms if that’s what your next question’s going to be” I was very matter of fact, there was absolutely nothing we could do to make any space.

“Is there truly nothing?” he pleaded “It’s not me, you see, it’s my wife. We’ve travelled all the way from Bethlehem, it’s taken us over a week, and I think, well, I think our baby might be coming”

Well this was new, none of the others who’d tried to convince us to give them a room had tried this tactic…but then I followed his gaze, into the street and for the first time I noticed his wife. She’d managed to climb down from the donkey (which must have borne her for the journey) and was now crouched on the ground. She winced and held her stomach.

I knew that look, that wince. I’ve carried 6 babies and that was without question a woman in early labour.

Well I couldn’t leave her there, by the look of how young she was it was probably her first – no girl should have to birth her first child in those circumstances, but what could I do? There was literally nowhere – even the roof had people sleeping on it!

But it was then that a thought struck me – divine inspiration you might say- most of my recent midwifery experience was with the lambs and calves we kept out back. A bed of straw was a better option than the filthy roadside.

I touched my husband’s arm to get his attention away from the latest group of travellers he was disappointing. I gestured towards the girl “it’s her time Lazar” – he understood my meaning - “But what can we do” he replied” “I can’t magic up a bed, not even for her!”

“The outhouse” I said - he looked at me, utterly puzzled. “It’s got a roof and clean straw, and, in the circumstances, I don’t think we have a choice!”

He nodded in agreement “Do what you need to Hanna”

I grabbed a lamp – it was dark out back and I knew the light would help. “Follow me” I instructed the man “help your wife, it’s not far”

I shewed the animals from the outhouse into the yard, quickly swept aside the used straw and laid some fresh from a bale stored nearby. The man helped his wife into the small stone building and helped her lie down.

“Tell me your name child” I asked the girl

“M- Mary” she managed between contractions

“and you?” I inquired of her husband

“Joseph” he responded

“and I’m Hanna, so now we’re all friends”

“What do we do?” Joseph pleaded

“Well, son, you stay close by, and if I need you, I’ll tell you”

“Don’t be afraid Mary” I told her, gently “I’m not going anywhere”

And I didn’t – I stayed through it all, helped her know what to do. I did what my mother had done for me, what I’d done for my sisters and daughters. What generations of woman had done for each other since Eve.

The labour was quick, surprisingly quick, and the baby looked healthy – a healthy boy! God be praised. I wrapped him in my shawl and passed him to his father for approval. The joy which radiated from his eyes made my heart full – such love in the man’s eyes.

And the child – so oddly peaceful for a newborn, so content – almost radiant! I must have been getting tired and my emotions were getting the best of me.

The man passed the baby to the girl and her face seemed as radiant as his – the rush of love almost palpable.

I showed her how to help him latch on – he was hungry! I warned her she may be sore, but it passes.

I’ve no idea how much time had passed when the spell was broken by a dirty faced child appearing in the yard – he was holding a lamb around his shoulders, and it wasn’t one of ours. I took in his appearance – he was one of those filthy shepherds from the outskirts of town – and dear lord there were more of them behind him!

“Miss” the boy addressed the girl “miss – we…we were told not to be afraid, we were told to come” and the whole group of them knelt before the mother and child as if he were royalty! The boy lifted the lamb and presented it to them like a gift.

Now, I know I needed some sleep – but what was this? What on earth was happening here in my back yard?! Who were this man and woman – and who on earth was this child? The three of them sat there in the straw, radiating love and joy and contentment the like of which I had never seen.

Then, I don’t know from where, but words appeared in my head – I’d heard them before, the words of one of the prophets, probably shouted at me by a preacher in the market square.

“But you, Bethlehem... out of you will come forth for Me one to be ruler over Israel, whose origins are of old, from ancient times”

I looked down at that child, I saw and felt pure and unconditional love for maybe the first time in my life, and I thought maybe, just maybe – stranger things have happened!

And so I stood there, straw clinging to my skirts, lamp flickering in my hand, watching this tiny family in my outhouse — and I realised something. The Messiah hadn’t arrived in the palace as the men who debated in the temple imagined, or even in the temple itself where we thought holiness lived. He’d come to us — to the ordinary, the overlooked, the tired, the overcrowded, the unprepared. To a woman who had nothing to offer but clean straw and a willing pair of hands.

And perhaps that’s the point.

Perhaps the Messiah still comes to us in the same way — quietly, vulnerably, without fanfare — asking only whether we’ll make room. Not a perfect room, not a tidy room, not a “ready” room… just room.

As we gather this Christmas, may we remember that outhouse. May we remember that holiness can be born in the most unlikely corners of our lives. And may we dare to believe that even in our mess, our exhaustion, our crowded hearts, God still chooses to arrive — bringing love that radiates, hope that surprises, and light that no darkness can overcome.

Amen.

You Can't Take it With You

I want to know who was paying attention at last week’s Orchard Service – can anyone tell me the takeaway message which Nick had us repeating and that I’ve had in my head all week?

“You can’t take it with you” – I’m sure we’ve each heard that dozens of times, but in our Gospel, we’re again hearing Jesus ask us where our treasure lies, and it’s interesting in the context of our other readings, which draw us back to the relationship between faith and action.

In Isaiah’s vision to the people of Judah and Jerusalem, he’s declaring that God has no need of empty gestures, the sacrifice of things - animals or incense – or even festivals and praise. The message is very clear; material sacrifice means nothing, changes nothing. God wants us to show our faith by doing good and is very clear that this means standing with the oppressed, the poor and vulnerable. For any Christians who regard works of social justice as “woke nonsense” I suggest they give their bibles a read.

The writer of Hebrews reminds us that throughout history God’s chosen people have done what God required or asked of them by faith and faith alone, there may have been no pay off for their actions or personal sacrifices within their own lifetime, but their lives and actions formed part of a much bigger narrative, becoming part of the wider story of God’s relationship with humankind.

We’ve had this thread running through our preaching for quite some time, that our actions in the world reveal a lot about our relationship to faith and relationship with God. Jesus tells us in today’s gospel reading that what we treasure reveals where our heart lies, and this then seems to be directly linked to our readiness to receive Jesus.

I don’t know about you, but I’ve got so much stuff. Sitting writing this sermon I was surrounded by books, craft materials, board games, ornaments, a very full shoe rack. I’m surrounded by things, and as I contemplated this sermon I thought about how the things around me made me feel.

I’m sure many of us here are book people, there’s something so beautiful about a physical book – it’s a sensory experience of sight, smell and touch – and then there’s what’s in the book, be it knowledge or an exciting story, or a delicious recipe, or maybe we enjoy bokos of art or photography – appreciating that our creator has made us people who create. Books enhance our human experience, maybe even help us to understand it a little better. And we learn about God through books and of course The Bible.

And being created to be people who create, many of us enjoy craft or art – many of grew out of necessity but now I think is driven by the creative urge which God has put in each of us.

Then there’s the boardgames – boardgames bring people together, they give us a shared social experience which again can enhance our experience of life. Boardgames take us away from screens and are an active rather than passive way to spend time.

Ornaments offer us beauty or art, memories of where we’ve been or self-expression in our decor, as do shoes – many people say you can tell a lot about a person from their shoes, although I think mine mostly say I like to be comfy.

Not treasuring these earthly things I think is hard, an object can hold so much meaning – otherwise why would archaeologists spend their lives carefully uncovering, logging and exploring items from history?

And there’s objects like our wedding rings or items passed down through generations, yet all the while I’m looking around at these objects, I’m also remembering our entire congregation last week chanting “you can’t take it with you”.

Do these items hold our hearts more than God does? Or are we able to hold lightly onto these material things?

There’s a societal narrative, driven by advertising and media, that the acquisition of things, earning more money and buying higher status items is what we should aspire to. It’s contributed to making our relationship to what we treasure really complicated. We live in a society centred around earning money and buying things – this is how worth is often measured.

I don’t want to patronise or romanticise people who have little material wealth or goods, especially as none of us can hide from the knowledge of the extreme poverty and deprivation that exists in our world, but it’s sometimes the case that those who have less, those without the noise of acquisition or objects surrounding them, are more receptive to the concept of God – there’s a reason why most religious orders have rules around wealth and possessions. They believe, and demonstrate, it makes you more receptive and ready to welcome Jesus.

The perceived need for God in people’s lives has diminished as the standard of living has risen. The better off we become the less we feel we need a God.

But Christian’s don’t always get it right either - the first time I visited Chester Cathedral some really negative feelings rose up in me– I was appalled at its ornament and the massive displays of the past wealth of its patrons. I couldn’t get out of my head what good could have been done with that money – I couldn’t see the artistry or beauty at all.

So how do we get back to building our treasure in heaven so we’re ready to receive Jesus should he fancy a visit to Flixton any time soon? Well I think the writers of Isaiah and Hebrews would possibly tell us to act right and have faith.

And Jesus might remind us of the spiritual riches we have in abundance like God's love, grace and mercy. We don’t access these using some heavenly ledger, treasure in heaven, despite the imagery used, isn’t like a bank for good deeds, balancing the books to access Gods riches.

God just gives it too us, and desires that we love that freely given abundance more than we love the finite and limited riches the world has to offer. The books, the craft materials, the boardgames, the shoes and ornaments will one day be dust in the wind. I can’t take them with me, but nothing, absolutely nothing, can separate us from the treasure that comes from opening our hearts, having faith and choosing to welcome God into our lives.

Finding your work

May I speak in the name of the one God, who is Speaker, Word and Breath.

Stu mentioned a couple of weeks ago about the theme running through our readings and sermons recently around faith and acts – the belief that if our faith really reflects who God is, that will then be reflected in how we conduct ourselves in the world- the people we are, the things we do, the decisions and choices we make.

This seems to neatly come together this morning in probably the most famous example of loving action, the tale of The Good Samaritan – and it is a tale rather than a parable. There’s nothing in it that’s metaphorical, it’s very clear. It’s our job to be merciful, compassionate neighbours in the world.

Those of us who’ve been or are nurses will know there’s two types of nurse; if when you’re going about you normal life there’s some sort of medical emergency – someone collapses in the middle aisle of Aldi - and there’s a shout for medical help, are you the nurse who immediately runs forward, or the nurse who waits 10 seconds to see if someone else runs goes first?

I’m definitely in the second camp, I’m a fantastic nurse in a hospital-based emergency, but out in the wild is a different matter! I think the older and wiser we get the less likely we are to immediately jump in there – with age and wisdom we recognise our limits.

Or maybe we recognise what is ours to do and what isn’t. An up to date first aider might actually be more useful in that situation than someone who’s used to being surrounded by all the help and equipment you could wish for.

That level of self-reflection isn’t, as far as we know, seen in our priest and Levite this morning. They’re not waiting to see if someone else jumps in, thinking if someone else doesn’t step forward then they will, or reflecting there may be someone better equipped, it’s a very clear head down, walk-on-by scenario.

We’ve heard this story so many times - I can remember at priest school having an activity where we re-wrote it in a modern setting - but examining the story through our current lens, reflecting upon faith leading us into action, why did these people of faith not act? Considering this might help us to understand the times when we ourselves have felt we could do nothing but look the other way, despite our faith in God.

Fear could be one answer. What if he’s contagious? They may not have looked closely enough to see he’d been attacked – they just see a man lying there, half dead. He could have a contagious illness. If they catch it and become sick who’ll provide for their families? They have important jobs and responsibilities. Who’ll see to those?

There could be the fear that it’s a trap. If this area is renowned for attacks, it may be known that this is one way the thieves operate to lure in victims.

There’s Mosaic law to consider – if the man is dead, and they can’t tell at this point – if they touch him, they can’t do their jobs for 7 days, they’ll be ritually unclean. They can’t let that happen, again they’re important, relied upon. They’re men that matter.

Another explanation could just be complacency -how often do they see bodies or people collapsed by the side of the road? It could be over-saturation, compassion fatigue. Maybe they’ve stepped in before and it cost them in some way, maybe they see so many people collapsed along that road that if they stopped to help everyone they’d never get anywhere.

So we have fear, personal cost and complacency. I’m not going to lie, that sounds pretty familiar to me at the moment. Whilst writing this there was a charity advert on the TV in the background which I’ve seen dozens of times – a young boy in an African country at the risk of going blind. If I stop to actually pay attention to it, think of the enormity of the issue it's implications, It’ll break my heart. Sometimes we feel we have to protect ourselves from feeling empathy because it could break us.

We do have to have boundaries and protect ourselves from over-saturation of media and news and sadness, just so we can go about our lives. If we let every awful thing we have knowledge about into our hearts we’d be paralysed by not only the sadness but the knowledge that we simply can’t help every person or situation we’d like to. There’re things that are just too big for us to tackle or effect. Those in need are simply too numerous.

How does this fit with our theology of faith leading to action? How can we navigate this alongside our belief in the universal neighbourhood? The whole point of Jesus telling this tale is to help the young lawyer see that anyone who needs our mercy, or who shows us mercy, is our neighbour, and there’s a big scary world our there very much in need of mercy.

I read something by the wonderful Revd. Nadia Bolz-Weber a couple of years ago – I was actually talking to Joanne about this yesterday – to summarise, as I can’t find the actual quote, Nadia wrote that the way we’ve been created, and the world be now inhabit are out of alignment. We we’re created to be people of community and created to be able to carry the worries, concerns, anxieties and stresses of that community, or village or tribe.

With 24-hour news cycles, our connectedness and the global nature of modern life we’re trying to carry the worries, concerns, anxieties and stresses of an entire world, and we simply can’t do it, we’re not built for it…so what do we do?

Seeing the suffering and looking away, turning a blind eye, isn’t an option, because we see our neighbours, those in need of mercy, and our hearts ache for them, because we are people of faith, people who hunger and thirst after righteousness, people who like the Samaritan of the story are moved from our very guts with compassion- that’s the literal translation of the Greek – compassion you feel in your spleen.

Nadia Bolz-Weber also has this to share when it comes to the burn-out that can come from carrying global sorrows in our heads and hearts:

Every day of my life I ask myself three discernment questions:

What’s MINE to do, and what’s NOT mine to do?

What’s MINE to say and what’s NOT mine to say?

And the third one is harder:

What’s MINE to care about and what’s NOT mine to care about?

To be clear – that is not to say that it is not worthy to be cared about by SOMEONE, only that my effectiveness in the world cannot extend to every worthy to be cared about event and situation. It’s not an issue of values, it’s an issue of MATH.

It’s ok to do what is YOURS to do. Say what’s yours to say. Care about what’s yours to care about. That’s enough.

This is all part of being the body of Christ; we each have our role, our separate functions that ensure the body keeps working and moving.

The hope is that if we’re each finding out what work is ours to do, then all the things which need work, the peoples and situations that require our mercy, that require someone to be a neighbour, will eventually have people, enough people, and the right people, whose work it is to be a Christ-like, spirit-filled presence there.

We won’t need to fear, worry about the personal cost or feel complacent in the suffering we see, we won’t need to cross over, pretending we don’t see what’s happening, because someone will already be there, tending the wounds, and we’ll be tending to the wounds we’re called to bandage.

And if we’re outraged by a situation and asking where the mercy is, where the neighbours are, then maybe that’s a sign of the work which is ours to do.

I’m sure you all know that one of my great passions is inclusion – not just inclusion but belonging. I want anyone to walk through that door and feel they belong. That’s part of my work.

My years as a nurse have led me into my current role in staff support and improving culture. That’s part of my work.

Your work might be speaking out against the Palestinian genocide, standing with refugees, fighting for the rights and inclusion of older people, working to support our local domestic abuse charity.

Where is God calling you to carry Gods name and do Gods work? Where are you moved to your spleen with compassion? Listen to the calling and the feelings, if you’re coming back to the same issue or situation time and time again, chances are that’s the work God is showing you is yours.

See it as an invitation, or even a challenge from God. Identify where you’re being called, answer that call, and start the work. Amen

Growing together

A short address from the double vow renewal that was held at St Michael's yesterday

I wasn’t sure if I was going to make an address today, but the more I thought about it this morning, the more appropriate it felt to take a moment during this glorious celebration of marriage and love, for Paula & Wayne, and Nica & Med, a moment to pause and reflect upon these milestones – 25 years for Paula & Wayne and 50 years for Nica & Med – for which this holy and sacred place has played such an important part.

We were looking at Nica and Med’s wedding photos yesterday evening, and it was so glorious not only to see the joy in their youthful and hope-filled faces and some very impressive fashion, but also the evolution of the church – oh and Med’s very impressive hair!

Because everything and everyone evolves over time, 50 years may not feel particularly long in the life of a church building (when some bits of it can be dated back to the 1500s) but there are some significant changes. Each of you will have evolved as people over the course of your marriages, and thank God you’ve grown and changed together when so many of us grow apart in our relationships.

There are 2 trees out the back of the church, near the garden of remembrance, which are so close that even though they’re different species, the way they’ve grown they’re so intertwined that even though you can see that they’re different trees, they’ve grown together to make something new, something beautiful and entirely unique.

The beauty of growing together is clear from each of your relationships – your bond of love and marriage has created something strong and something beautiful. And St Michael’s being part of that means that right from the start of your marriages God was there too, helping the nurturing, the growth and of course the love.

The reading from 1 Corinthians tells us how God loves and gives us a template for how we ought to love each other – with compassion, kindness, humility and patience. With a combined 75 years of marriage between you I think you’re probably doing OK with holding to these qualities, the things which nourish the roots of a relationship.

My prayer for each of you today is that as you continue your lives together, joined in the sacred covenant of marriage, that you continue to grow together in love, upholding and supporting each other through both the joys and challenges of life, and that through all of this you remember that God, who blessed you on your wedding day and blesses you today, is always with you, encircling you with never-ending, unconditional love. Amen.

Anything to declare?

May I speak in the name of the One God, who is Speaker, Word & Breath.

Very much like the last time I was with you, I wasn't expecting to write a sermon this week, so again I’ve just tried to put some thoughts together around the readings – and they are an amazing three readings!!

I didn’t know where to look first – we have the earthquake, wind and fire, followed by the silence where God was to be found. 

We have a reading that I, as someone who is passionate about justice and equity, love - There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

And then, the weird and wonderful gospel story of Jesus healing the demoniac who lived naked among the tombs, sending the demons who call themselves Legion into the herd of pigs and over a cliff.

There’s so much to unpick in the gospel reading, but I get uncomfortable when contemporary writers or preachers try to explain demons or relate them to our modern understanding of various mental health or psychiatric conditions.

I’m sure than if like me you have people in your life, or even yourselves, who've experienced or are experiencing various mental health challenges, you wish that faith or prayer could heal them, but it's more complex than that, and there’s a lot more nuance needed when venturing into this area, so that’s not the road I’m going down.

What strikes me when we put these readings together is the sense of God’s power and how unexpected it is in relation to humankind’s idea of power – and that’s often the case when we look at God through the lens of Jesus.

There was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence.

Elijah witnesses the power of nature, of God’s created order – the power of the physical world. But that’s not where Elijah finds God. Elijah finds God in the quiet that comes after that, and maybe some of us can think of times that this was our experience as well.

There’re two very good films about the nature of faith and silence and I’d recommend them both – the first is Into Great Silence, an almost wordless film which follows a year in the life of silent Carthusian monks who live high in the French Alps – it’s a 2 hour and 40 minute meditation on how silence and prayer in extremis shape the lives of these men.

The other is Martin Scorsese’s Silence, one of the most complex and challenging films of this century – both intellectually and spiritually. It tells the story of Portuguese Jesuit priests in feudal Japan. For me the film is about how complex faith and our relationship with the divine is, especially displayed in the character Kichijiro, locked in a cycle perpetual penitence as he continually renounces then reaffirms his belief. It’s in part a film about what we do with our faith when we don’t hear God in the silence, and the power God still has in that.

The reading from Galatians for me demonstrates the power of God to make all people equal because There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.

God’s love through Jesus is the great leveller – when Mary sings the Magnificat and declares: He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly, it doesn’t mean raising one above the other but bringing them both to a place where they’re equal – it’s true equity, and that’s the power God has to bring justice into our world.

The labels we put on each don’t really matter as we’re all part of the body of Christ, all uniquely and beautifully different, all contributing our own thing, but all beloved children of the same divine parent.

In the gospel reading there’s so many ways we could interpret God’s power at work, but for me it’s all summed up in the last words we hear from Jesus in the passage: Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.

The everyday power God has in our lives is letting us see that now matter who we are, where we’ve been, what we’ve done or what we’ve experienced, when we welcome the power of God into our life the old narratives of who were, or thought we were, whatever other people may think we are, everything can be turned around, everything can change.

It can sometimes happen in a miraculous and dramatic moment as in our gospel, it can provide that powerful testimony capable of changing the lives of other people, or it can come, probably more often, in the way we evolve and change over time, with God’s powerful love working in us and being reflected to those we connect with.

I’m reminded again of The Magnificat: the Mighty One has done great things for me, and has done great things for us, and when we recognise this, it becomes our turn to go and declare how much good God has done for us.

Our lives and how we choose to live them are each examples of God’s power at work – and that power may be in silence, or in seeking justice and equity, or in our own stories of how our lives have been healed or reconciled, drawing us further into communion with Jesus.

Amen.

1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a

1Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. 2Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” 3Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there. 4But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” [5Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” 6He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. 7The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.”] 8He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God.

9At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”10He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” 11He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake;12and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” 14He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” 15Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus.”

Galatians 3:23-29

23Now before faith came, we were imprisoned and guarded under the law until faith would be revealed. 24Therefore the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. 25But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, 26for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith. 27As many of you as were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. 28There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus. 29And if you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s offspring, heirs according to the promise.

Luke 8:26-39

26Then they arrived at the country of the Gerasenes, which is opposite Galilee. 27As he stepped out on land, a man of the city who had demons met him. For a long time he had worn no clothes, and he did not live in a house but in the tombs. 28When he saw Jesus, he fell down before him and shouted at the top of his voice, “What have you to do with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? I beg you, do not torment me”— 29for Jesus had commanded the unclean spirit to come out of the man. (For many times it had seized him; he was kept under guard and bound with chains and shackles, but he would break the bonds and be driven by the demon into the wilds.) 30Jesus then asked him, “What is your name?” He said, “Legion”; for many demons had entered him. 31They begged him not to order them to go back into the abyss. 32Now there on the hillside a large herd of swine was feeding; and the demons begged Jesus to let them enter these. So he gave them permission. 33Then the demons came out of the man and entered the swine, and the herd rushed down the steep bank into the lake and was drowned. 34When the swineherds saw what had happened, they ran off and told it in the city and in the country.35Then people came out to see what had happened, and when they came to Jesus, they found the man from whom the demons had gone sitting at the feet of Jesus, clothed and in his right mind. And they were afraid.36Those who had seen it told them how the one who had been possessed by demons had been healed. 37Then all the people of the surrounding country of the Gerasenes asked Jesus to leave them; for they were seized with great fear. So he got into the boat and returned. 38The man from whom the demons had gone begged that he might be with him; but Jesus sent him away, saying, 39“Return to your home, and declare how much God has done for you.” So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.

Love is a many splendored thing

Love is a many splendored thing

Love lifts us up where we belong

All you need is love!

I was made for loving you

I will always love you

I can’t help loving you

The keen eared musical fans in the room may recognise some of the lyrics from the Elephant Love Medley from Moulin Rouge, a mash up of some of the best and most cliched love song lyrics, where our young hero, Christian, tries to convince Satine, a girl he’s literally just met, that love is the only thing that matters.

And he might be right, but that all consuming romantic obsessional love is not what Jesus was referring to in today’s gospel, but maybe it should make us as fired up and willing to devote our entire lives to, that’s certainly what happened in the case of the disciples.

“Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” How do you think we’re doing with that? Do we recognise other Christians by their signs of love, or do we recognise someone as a Christian by them declaring themselves to be one?

I don’t think I’m going to solve the centuries old theological debate of faith vs actions on this sunny May morning, but I do tend to side with the author of the letter from James that, yes faith is enough, but that true faith leads us to live our lives in a particular way, to act towards our brothers and sisters in the world in a particular way, that true faith transforms us into people who perform loving actions.

Not that we always get that right, almost every high-profile Christian we could name off the top of our heads also will have some sort of controversy linked to them or examples which only demonstrate that our humanity, even as loving, faithful children of God, makes each and every one of us messy, well intentioned, contradictions.

Speaking of which, let’s talk about Peter, as usual caught up in some new controversy. Now Luke, writer of the Book of Acts, thinks this episode is so important that he tells it twice.

What I love about Peter is how we see him get things wrong, but then learn and grow, and here we find him in the middle of an early church debate about rules, orthodoxy and what really makes you a follower of the way. And this has come about because people are joining their numbers, and have been since before Jesus died, who aren’t Jewish, who don’t have the same background of faith, customs and most importantly Mosaic law.

It's not going to be too long before the number of non-Jewish followers outnumbers Jewish followers, so these sorts of questions must have been really important.

How can they be one body of Christ, sharing in the eucharistic meal, if they can’t even eat in the same house?

There’s an argument that it’s the Jewish people’s differences that have assured their survival for so long, their laws, customs, strict rules around conversion and marriage, so they kept their identify despite the Egyptians, the Assyrians, the Babylonians, the Persians, and the Romans. They maintained their identity as set-aside, God’s special people.

There must have been a real fear amongst the Jewish followers because everything in their history and experience up until this point has told them they are not like the gentiles that they must remain set-apart, yet the waters were muddied by Jesus himself who began ministering to non-Jewish followers, Romans, Samarians, Greeks, and inviting them to follow him.

So questions were asked – should the gentiles convert to Judaism, should they be circumcised, and should they follow the food laws. Peter tells them of his experience, and the words which have been so important to me personally “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” God has created all things, all people, so there is nothing on the earth that doesn’t have its beginning in scared holiness.

What Peter demonstrates, with God’s stamp on it, is a living out of the commandment to love, which I try and apply to every area of my understanding of God, Jesus and the living out of my faith in the world. Does it come form love?

God is love and love is God. Did it feel like love to abide by the strict rules of their tradition, or did it feel like love to share food with a fellow believer? When we see contradiction in the bible, in theology, in dogma, in practice, we need to ask ourselves what feels like love?

Peter and the early church are coming to realise what we hear in John’s vision in the reading from revelation: “See, I am making all things new.”

What is developing is neither Judaism nor an assimilation of the customs of the various gentile groups, but something completely new. A new commandment, a new way of being, a new faith, whose followers have a personal, intimate relationship with God because God has walked beside them, broken bread with them, died for them, invited them to touch his wounds, and loved them. Through their flaws and imperfections – through our flaws and imperfections – God loves us because God has made us and that makes us Holy.

To return to recognising Christians by our love of other people, Jesuit professor Bruce Morrill, writes:

“What distinguished the followers of Jesus and successive generations of Christians was their outreach to the poor and sick, the practical love they demonstrated in openly forming fellowship groups (local churches) that actively reached out in service to the poor, the hungry, and the sick.”

And we still see that in the world today. Our systems of healthcare have their roots in our loving faith. Our faith is based in caring for others, in building relationships and being in fellowship with one another. To love each other we don’t have to agree on everything, but we do need to put loving people before rules. Also central to our tradition is how it evolves with our understanding.

Jesus and the early church invited those who were different, not accepted under the law, had terrible pasts or who were in other ways social outcasts because God loves them. We have evolved over the past few decades to marry those who’re divorced, ordain women, actively invite LGBTQ people to be in full communion with us because God loves them.

We’re now allowed to bless same-sex unions, even if the move that doesn’t go far enough in my eyes, because God loves them.

As I started with song lyrics I’m going to end with them too. The reading from revelation always puts in my mind a song I play every year at the end of our Good Friday Footsteps to the Feast Service – Trusty & True by Damien Rice.

We can't take back what is done, what is past

So let us start from here

If all that you are is not all you desire, then come

come alone, come with fear, come with love

Come with friends, come with faults

Come with me, and let go

Come so carefully close

Come with sorrows and songs

Come with yourself below

Come however you are

Just come

That’s all we need to do, come however we are to this new amazing thing God has gifted to us, to drink from the spring of the water of life so freely given, but not just to drink but to share it, to invite others to come, to offer them what is given to each and every sacred and holy person who desires it.

Because love dictates that this is way too good to keep to ourselves, it’s our job to share God’s love with each and every person we meet, whether they return love is up to them. Let our actions be loving so we can be known by our love, not by hate, disapproval or rules.

And we don’t just share that love with those we agree with, who look like us or act like us, that love, that invitation, our faith, is for each and every holy and sacred person in creation. Amen.

First Lesson: Acts 11:1-18

1Now the apostles and the believers who were in Judea heard that the Gentiles had also accepted the word of God. 2So when Peter went up to Jerusalem, the circumcised believers criticized him, 3saying, “Why did you go to uncircumcised men and eat with them?” 4Then Peter began to explain it to them, step by step, saying, 5“I was in the city of Joppa praying, and in a trance, I saw a vision. There was something like a large sheet coming down from heaven, being lowered by its four corners; and it came close to me. 6As I looked at it closely I saw four-footed animals, beasts of prey, reptiles, and birds of the air. 7I also heard a voice saying to me, ‘Get up, Peter; kill and eat.’ 8But I replied, ‘By no means, Lord; for nothing profane or unclean has ever entered my mouth.’ 9But a second time the voice answered from heaven, ‘What God has made clean, you must not call profane.’ 10This happened three times; then everything was pulled up again to heaven. 11At that very moment three men, sent to me from Caesarea, arrived at the house where we were. 12The Spirit told me to go with them and not to make a distinction between them and us. These six brothers also accompanied me, and we entered the man’s house. 13He told us how he had seen the angel standing in his house and saying, ‘Send to Joppa and bring Simon, who is called Peter; 14he will give you a message by which you and your entire household will be saved.’ 15And as I began to speak, the Holy Spirit fell upon them just as it had upon us at the beginning. 16And I remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said, ‘John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit.’ 17If then God gave them the same gift that he gave us when we believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I that I could hinder God?” 18When they heard this, they were silenced. And they praised God, saying, “Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.”

Second Lesson: Revelation 21:1-6

1Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “See, the home of God is among mortals. He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; 4he will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.” 5And the one who was seated on the throne said, “See, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this, for these words are trustworthy and true.” 6Then he said to me, “It is done! I am the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. To the thirsty I will give water as a gift from the spring of the water of life.

Gospel: John 13:31-35

31When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. 32If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.33Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now, I say to you, ‘Where I am going, you cannot come.’ 34I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. 35By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

Listen, hear and follow

May I speak in the name of the One God who is Speaker, Word & Breath. Amen. 

Have you ever considered what name you’d choose if were selected to be Pope? I have, in the unlikely event that it might happen, and just because it’s fun. I’d be Pope Julian after Julian of Norwich, which is a delightful coincidence as it was Mother Julian’s feast day on Thursday when Pope Leo was selected.

Did you enjoy Pope-Watch? I’m not going to lie, I loved it – the drama, the ritual and the history of it all, but the hope was beautiful as well- the hopeful expectations of millions of people. 

Mother Julian’s words were in my head as I thought about what kind of man might be appointed to be the world’s most visible Christian. “All shall be well and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well” I told myself as I waited for the announcement, trusting that the conclave were trusting in the Holy Spirit to guide them.

I was a huge admirer of Pope Francis, and my hope was that the person selected will continue his work. I think, from what I’ve read, that Pope Leo will continue in the spirit of Pope Francis, bringing Jesus’ teaching back to the heart of such a public ministry, focusing on people, on love, on social justice and inclusion. Previously he’s called out power imbalances and misuse or misrepresentation of Jesus’ teaching. It Feels rather Jesus-like I think.

Today is Good Shepherd Sunday, our readings are filled with pastoral imagery of God, of Jesus and of ourselves as the flock. As a minister we too believe we have a shepherding role to play, and I’m sure Pope Leo is feeling the weight of this as he leads the Sunday Mass today.

You may have seen the wonderful Series “The Chosen”, which tells the story of Jesus’ life and ministry from leaving the wilderness up until, at the end of the 4th series, entering Jerusalem in triumph. The 5th series is released next month and focuses on Holy Week. I can’t recommend it enough; it brings the gospels to life in a way nothing else I’ve seen or read has.

During the 4th series we see the scene from today’s gospel taking place on the temple steps, and it results in Jesus and the disciples being the victims of an attempted stoning by the Pharisees who are calling Jesus out, appalled at what they call blasphemy. James is quite badly injured and they’re forced to retreat to their lodging house. And they’re scared.

After this, the reality of how dangerous their ministry and mission is hits them, that whilst they all believe that Jesus is the Messiah, and that that is wonderful, not everyone will believe, not everyone will hear and understand, and some may even be threatened to the point where they want to kill those bringing the message.

It’s a moment of hate and violence as a response to a message of love, and I think that’s still the way some people respond when confronted with the true message of Jesus’ teaching, where the poor, the orphaned, the widowed, the sick, the tax collectors, people with questionable pasts and those cast out through illness are all equally loved and held up in God’s eyes, and to do God’s work is to care for the sick, the prisoner, and the marginalised.

We’ll each have our own view of what a “real Christian” or “good Christian” looks like, but for me anyone who supports a gospel of exclusion, of any kind of hate, of supporting measures which harm those in poverty, those with disabilities, or children, or immigrants or any child of God hasn’t heard the shepherd’s voice.

And it can be difficult in this complicated world to discern God’s voice above everything else. I look for what feels loving or based in love, and a church leader using their voice for the lifting up of the most marginalised, the poorest and those most in need in our world feels like love to me.

There will always be those whose hearts are hardened to this, or who feel threatened by a teaching that causes us to examine or change our deepest held convictions. So I pray today for Pope Leo, I pray for his ministry, and I pray for all those who teach a Christianity that excludes or hates anyone, or who doesn’t feel it’s our job to actively care for those who are suffering the most. And I pray for all of us to be able to listen to, hear and follow the voice of our shepherd.

Amen.

John 10:22-30

At that time the festival of the Dedication took place in Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the portico of Solomon. So the Jews gathered around him and said to him, “How long will you keep us in suspense? If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”Jesus answered, “I have told you, and you do not believe. The works that I do in my Father’s name testify to me; but you do not believe, because you do not belong to my sheep. My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me. I give them eternal life, and they will never perish. No one will snatch them out of my hand. What my Father has given me is greater than all else, and no one can snatch it out of the Father’s hand. The Father and I are one.”