The F Word

Sermon based upon Matthew 18:21-35

I feel like poor Peter has come in for a bashing recently on Sunday mornings! So many of the gospel stories we’ve heard have centred on his ability to get things wrong, and that’s the case again today.

Peter thinks he’s being super generous, abundantly merciful, with his suggestion of offering forgiveness 7 times. The thing is, in the Jewish tradition and wisdom teaching God forgave 3 times and punished at the 4^th offence, which I think comes from Amos where God forgives Israel’s enemies 3 times. Because humans could never be more gracious than God they could only forgive 3 times and no more, so Peter with his suggestion of 7 times, more than double what his culture taught, must have thought Jesus was going to be blown away by his answer.

Cue another instance of Jesus giving Peter a friendly pat on the shoulder as he shows that yet again his assumptions are very wrong, and states a figure of 77 times. This isn’t a literal 77, Jesus is using hyperbole and a playing on the words used in a verse from Genesis, referred to as the law of vengeance: If Cain is avenged sevenfold, truly Lamech seventy-sevenfold (Gen 4:24). Instead of extreme vengeance Jesus is calling us to extreme mercy and forgiveness.

To illustrate his point Jesus tells the parable of the unforgiving servant. The sum of money he owes, 10,000 talents is deliberately extravagant. It’d be millions today, this illustrates the extreme generosity, mercy and forgiveness he’s shown. The amount owed the servant, in which he shows no mercy, is just a few quid in comparison.

Jesus is illustrating that as God shows us radical forgiveness, we must respond to that by showing radical forgiveness to others.

I’ve been wondering this week what was it about the servant, after being shown such mercy and compassion, that failed to stir up the same mercy and compassion within him? What was is about his culture and background, his life experiences, that meant despite the extreme nature of the forgiveness he received, he was unable to show that, on a much smaller scale, to another?

I’ve probably mentioned it before but I’m a huge admirer of Desmond Tutu. His theology, his wisdom, the life he’s led, I admire him a great deal. A few weeks ago, I read some extracts from an article he’d written about forgiveness at our Thursday morning service, so apologies to anyone who was there when I repeat myself today.

His work regarding radical forgiveness, especially heading the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in post-apartheid South Africa is well known. During that process victims of human rights violations shared their stories, and perpetrators of those acts were granted amnesty. What might not be as well-known are the personal struggles he faced, particularly growing up with an alcoholic and abusive father.

He recounts witnessing his father abusing his mother and says this: When I recall this story, I realise how difficult the process of forgiving truly is. Intellectually, I know my father caused pain because he himself was in pain. Spiritually, I know my faith tells me my father deserves to be forgiven as God forgives us all. But it is still difficult. The traumas we have witnessed or experienced live on in our memories. Even years later they can cause us fresh pain each time we recall them.

Intellectually and from a position of people who belong to Christ we know forgiveness, radical and unconditional, is what we’re called to, but when the hurts run so deep our emotions blind us to what our logic or intellect might be telling us. The article continues:

I know [forgiveness] is the only way to heal the pain in my boyhood heart. Forgiveness is not dependent on the actions of others. Yes, it is certainly easier to offer forgiveness when the perpetrator expresses remorse and offers some sort of reparation or restitution. Then, you can feel as if you have been paid back in some way. You can say: "I am willing to forgive you for stealing my pen, and after you give me my pen back, I shall forgive you." This is the most familiar pattern of forgiveness. We don't forgive to help the other person. We don't forgive for others. We forgive for ourselves. Forgiveness, in other words, is the best form of self-interest.

Forgiveness takes practice, honesty, open-mindedness and a willingness (even if it is a weary willingness) to try. It isn't easy. Perhaps you have already tried to forgive someone and just couldn't do it. Perhaps you have forgiven and the person did not show remorse or change his or her behaviour or own up to his or her offences – and you find yourself unforgiving all over again.

It is perfectly normal to want to hurt back when you have been hurt. But hurting back rarely satisfies. We think it will, but it doesn't. If I slap you after you slap me, it does not lessen the sting I feel on my own face, nor does it diminish my sadness over the fact that you have struck me. Retaliation gives, at best, only momentary respite from our pain. The only way to experience healing and peace is to forgive. Until we can forgive, we remain locked in our pain and locked out of the possibility of experiencing healing and freedom, locked out of the possibility of being at peace.

This belief, of forgiveness bringing us Peace and Healing, was central to the Truth and Reconciliation commission. The acts requiring forgiveness would be to us inhuman, barbaric, and yet forgiveness, radical and Christ-like was offered.

These principals have been carried over into a UK based project backed by Desmond Tutu called the Forgiveness Project. It’s a charity that uses the stories of both victims and perpetrators of crime and violence to explore how ideas around forgiveness, reconciliation and conflict resolution can be used to impact positively on people’s lives. It’s non-partisan and non-religious but many Christian organisations have been involved as it so closely reflects Christ’s teaching.

It’s an encouragement to debate, not holding up forgiveness as an all-healing magic bullet, but rather an examination of forgiveness as a means to finding resolution, and hopefully, eventually, transformation. I really recommend exploring the project, reading some of the stories, because it’s a glimpse of the possible, and I believe a glimpse of Kingdom living.

I’ve used a lot of Desmond Tutu’s words today, and I’m going to use some more, because his lived experiences mean he puts this better that I ever could:

A human life is a great mixture of goodness, beauty, cruelty, heartbreak, indifference, love and so much more. All of us share the core qualities of our human nature and so sometimes we are generous and sometimes selfish. Sometimes we are thoughtful and other times thoughtless; sometimes we are kind and sometimes cruel. This is not a belief. This is a fact.

No one is born a liar or a rapist or a terrorist. No one is born full of hatred. No one is born full of violence. No one is born in any less glory or goodness than you or me. But on any given day, in any given situation, in any painful life experience, this glory and goodness can be forgotten, obscured or lost. We can easily be hurt and broken, and it is good to remember that we can just as easily be the ones who have done the hurting and the breaking.

The simple truth is, we all make mistakes, and we all need forgiveness. There is no magic wand we can wave to go back in time and change what has happened or undo the harm that has been done, but we can do everything in our power to set right what has been made wrong. We can endeavour to make sure the harm never happens again.

There are times when all of us have been thoughtless, selfish or cruel. But no act is unforgivable; no person is beyond redemption. Yet, it is not easy to admit one's wrongdoing and ask for forgiveness. "I am sorry" are perhaps the three hardest words to say.

We can come up with all manner of justifications to excuse what we have done. When we are willing to let down our defences and look honestly at our actions, we find there is a great freedom in asking for forgiveness and great strength in admitting the wrong. It is how we free ourselves from our past errors. It is how we are able to move forward into our future, unfettered by the mistakes we have made.

The parable of the ungrateful servant is both a parable of seeking forgiveness and of forgiving. It shows us how much can be forgiven when we know we’re wrong and we ask for forgiveness, and it also shows us how much hurt can come when we don’t give forgiveness when people ask it of us.

I don’t know what it was within the servant that meant he couldn’t find a way into forgiveness, but that inability led to the continuing suffering of both himself and the man asking for forgiveness. God requires us to be as generous in our forgiveness as he is with us, which we know is infinite. It’s a big ask, and it’s not easy at all, but it does contain the power to transform lives. 

Love thy white supremacist neighbour?

Sermon based upon Romans 12:1-8 and Matthew 16:13-20

Simon “Rocky to his friends” Johnson, the hot-headed fisherman of Capernaum. Peter to us, but I kind of like the nickname Rocky. It fits. He’s hot-headed and punchy, not really one for thinking before he speaks or acts.

We know more about Peter than any other of the 12, which means that we, as they must have done, can wonder “him?!!” when Jesus declares Simon to be Peter, his rock, and promises him the keys to the kingdom. 

A better nickname might have been “Sandy” because he shifts about so much; unstable, tactless and impetuous. We might think this is evidence of Jesus’ sense of humour, his eyes giving a playful twinkle as he says it, the other 11 smirking.

Yet Peter, for all his blundering, has said something that no one else up to this point has said or recognised; Peter in his complexity and paradoxical simplicity just comes out with it: “You are the Messiah”.

Because of Peter’s knack of saying, unfiltered, whatever comes into his head he’s actually the 1 disciple not only to recognise the activity of God when he sees it, but to blurt it out, not thinking of the implications. Peter acts on instinct, rightly or wrongly, a lot of the time, and that includes here.

Jesus then basically names Peter first amongst equals, and we recognise the importance of that in the early church. Jesus gives him permission to bind or loose- forbid or permit. 

He was the first to be called, the first named in lists of apostles and the one from whom Paul, even though they have disagreements, seeks approval from as he sets out on his own mission. 

For all his paradoxes and contradictions Peter becomes a unifying figure, at the centre of the vision of a community of faith, central to Paul’s vision of the one body, the perfect example of how it takes people of every kind to build that community.

The body image is the illustration of the perfect inclusive church where no one is ex-cluded, we all fit in somewhere. Both the person of Peter and the vision of Paul serve to give us hope that no matter what our faults or differences, God has a place for us.

I get so disheartened by reports of faith communities which are built up on a premise of exclusion rather than inclusion, a reading of scripture which I whole-heartedly disagree with.

The idea that you must have a particular view of scripture, faith, gender roles, politics, sexuality or style of worship to be acceptable to God I believe goes against the vision of the body of Christ and both the teachings and ministry of Jesus. To hear of faith communities rejecting and excluding those who don’t fit their own view of Christianity is heart-breaking.

We’re all guilty at times of making God too small, trying to make him fit our own world view, me included. 

Paul is reminding us that God is so big as to be able to accommodate each and every one of us. If Jesus excluded his disciples each time they tried to make God small, or acted in a way which didn’t fit Jesus’ own teachings, He would have been very alone very quickly.

This past fortnight, to see people marching in God’s name, in the churches name, with an ideology of white supremacy, has been something which I think our little community here might have found difficult to believe or imagine. Those of you who use Social Media may have seen or even used the phrases “not all Christians” or “not in my name”, as we try and distance ourselves from those who share our faith bur not our ideologies.

We can condemn violence and acts of hatred done in Christ’s name, for there is no excusing it, yet it’s a reminder of a past we also want to distance ourselves from, the role of our church in Empire Christianity, of conquer and conquest, a past of believing God gave us a mission and a right to overthrow, oppress and white-wash other cultures and faiths.

Peter’s life, as the first, unifying head of the church, is a good metaphor for the history of the church and of Christianity. We’ve got things wrong, we’ve rejected Christ for our own interests; we’ve got things right and recognised the activity of God when we’ve seen it. The church has at times been unstable, tactless and impetuous, at times been faithful and filled with love and life-giving.

Peter’s life also gives me hope for the church- and for myself. 

It took many years and many mistakes for him to become who he became. We share his faults and failings, so we can also share in his successes and ability to see Jesus for exactly who he is. 

The way Jesus never rejects him despite his actions gives me a template on how I should respond to my brothers and sisters who may share my religion but not me beliefs or world view; a way of confronting racist rhetoric dressed up as Christianity, because if I believe in Paul’s vision of the Body of Christ and full inclusion of each and every person, I must find a way to accept that those with views of ex-clusion, views we may find detestable, those who take part in marches to promote a white supremacist world view, are still somehow part of the Body of Christ.

Now this is uncomfortable stuff, how is this even possible? How can we be part of the same community of faith as those whose views seem to come from a place of such hate? I should imagine the majority of us would feel about these groups the same way our Muslim Brothers and sisters do when they’re thought to belong to the same group of people who commit atrocities in the name of their faith.

But the only way I know to drive out hate is with love, to fight exclusion with inclusion, to keep our hearts, our minds and our doors open. 

Only by showing the love of Christ can we open up the hearts and minds of others to what’s possible when we stop trying to divide and separate our communities, when we stop excluding and punishing in Jesus’ name, and when we become the living embodiment of loving in Jesus’ name. We show them with our every action that intolerance is not welcome in our church.

When we model what it can look like to truly live out the love which pours from God there’s a chance we can effect change in others, to include them even if we disagree with them.

To go back to where we started, with Peter, our rock, some of his views could now be considered racist. He discriminated against the gentiles and Paul called him out for it. We can all get things wrong, and we can all be redeemed. No one, not one single person is beyond that love which flows unending from God, to us, and is intended to be shared out in all places, to all people, at all times.

We're on a mission. From God.

Sermon preached this morning, based upon Matthew 9:35-10:8

We’re on a mission. From God”
Any of you familiar with the film The Blues Brothers, which just so happens to be my husband’s favourite, will be familiar with that line. For those of you who haven’t seen it I’ll set the scene:

Elwood Blues arrives at Joliet prison on the day of his brother (Jake’s) release. They visit the Roman Catholic orphanage they grew up in, only to find out it’ll be closed if they can’t raise $5000. The brothers then visit a Baptist church where Jake has a divine epiphany; if they reform their old band, The Blues Brothers, they can raise the money to save the orphanage.

As they meet up with former band mates and other folk along the way they tell them “we’re on a mission. From God.” This mission often finds them on the wrong side of the law, and various other groups along the way.

Eventually, and I’m sorry if this is a spoiler but this film is almost as old as me, they raise $10,000 which saves the orphanage, as well as paying for instruments they’ve borrowed along the way. However, just after they hand over the money and save the orphanage the police catch up with them and the film ends where it started, in Joliet prison, with the band performing Jailhouse Rock for their fellow inmates.
They may have ended up as convicted felons but they did complete the mission they believed God had challenged them with.

In today’s gospel we see the 12 apostles being given their mission from God. They’re each named; Simon Peter, Andrew, James son of Zebedee, John, Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, Simon the Cananaean and Judas.
This is the only place Matthew uses the word “apostle”, meaning one who is sent. I often tell baptism families that there’s very few examples of Jesus saying “do this” or “do that”, but here it’s very clear what he’s sending the 12 to do, clear what their mission is.

He’s sending the 12 to be a reflection of himself; cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons- this is the stuff the gospel writers have told us Jesus did, and yet he’s sending them to do this in a place he never ministered in; Galilee. As Paul will later become the apostle to the gentiles, this 12, one to represent each tribe of Israel, are being sent to preach and minister to Israel. Jesus is very clear; don’t go anywhere near the gentiles or Samaritans.

They’re to declare the gospel to those who should have it already written in their hearts; this mission is a mission to reclaim God’s chosen people, to remind them of their place as a consecrated nation and their calling to a universal priesthood- a kingdom of priests.

But who are these 12 men, what do we really know about them? Might they have more in common with Jake and Elwood Blues than with their saintly images decorating our church?

Churches are filled with images of the 12 as saintly- we have Thomas in the corner of our main window; Matthew, Mark, Luke and John hiding in the corners of the ascension window. If you look closely- as I sometimes get our family praise children to do- you can see some of the other 12 depicted around the church. And don’t they look holy? Any human imperfections hidden by the glow of their halos.

Is this how you imagine the 12? The wise and saintly founding fathers of our faith? Or do you like your Holy men a little more human and earthly?

We know Judas’ flaws and fete, and yet Jesus still chose him. Matthew was a reviled tax collector- although a changed man from meeting Jesus. These men were from such varied backgrounds- rough and uneducated fishermen, a political zealot- but Jesus changed all that? Taught them, trained them, and transformed them- or did he?

The 12 keep getting stuff wrong- Thomas doubts, Peter denies Jesus- in fact Peter gets loads of stuff wrong. He’s blunt and bumbling- emotion always getting the better of him. We know they squabble about who’s the greatest, and we know they hide in fear until the Spirit comes to shove them out of the door and into actually acting upon Jesus’ instructions.

We have in the apostles an imperfect bunch, from all walks of life, who aren’t made perfect even after 3 years in Jesus’ company. And they need a direct and transformational experience of the Holy Spirit before they go out and actually begin the mission Jesus has directly given them.

Jesus calls them, delights in them and sends them inspite of who they are, not because of who they are.

When I was on placement at St Peter’s House, the church and chaplaincy at Manchester University, their readings didn’t end with “this is the word of the Lord”, but “what does this mean for us today”? And that’s the question I’m asking myself about the mission Jesus sets out for our flawed, very human apostles.

I’ve had no choice recently but to think about the nature of calling, mission and being sent as I prepare to be priested next Saturday and stand before you next Sunday to preside over the Eucharist for the first time.

At times like this we’re confronted with our own flaws, with all the things that are a barrier to our mission rather than the things that make us fit for purpose.
We’re the only ones who know our own inner life, apart from God. We know all the darkest aspects of ourselves, the things which stand in the way of our feeling like a reflection of Jesus in the places where we find ourselves.

But, like the apostles, we’re called inspite of who we are, not because of who we are. We’re flawed, we’re human, and because of that we relate to the flaws we see in others. The amazing thing is that despite our imperfections we still reflect Christ, and are made in God’s image.

Each one of us has a mission, and it won’t be the same as that given to the 12. It may be that some of us will be agents for healing, but that was their mission, for their context- a very culturally specific set of instructions for a group of men in 1st century Palestine.

We minister to our own time, in our own context, and take responsibility for our own mission. Our call is to look forwards to where God is leading us.

Jesus was very clear with the 12- don’t look over there, at other people and other places, look here, look at your people. Your mission is your people. Maybe this, in part, is our mission too. Sometimes we don’t have to look far to see where we’re needed, where we can reflect Christ and bring God’s love.

Like Jake and Elwood Blues finding their purpose we must find ours. As members of the church we are, like Israel, a consecrated people, claimed as God’s own and called to the universal priesthood.

We don’t have to look very hard to see examples recently within our communities of the gospel being lived out- as tragedy has struck time and time again in recent weeks I’m constantly overwhelmed by the goodness of people- the helpers, those who contribute- physically, financially, practically, organisationally; those who seek justice for people unable to do so themselves.

We have a mission as a church community to serve the people of this parish, and yet we each have an individual path to tread as well. For me, that inexplicably led to this pulpit- who knows where it might lead any one of you.

Embrace your flaws, they make us human and give us parity with the apostles. Know that God will use them and use us, whatever those flaws may be, if we trust him and the plans he has for us. We’re all on a mission. From God.

The light shines in the darkness

I wrote a short article for the church newsletter:

I sit writing this in the aftermath of the horrifying events in Manchester this week, where people who went on a night out never came home, or returned home changed forever. When talking to my children about what had happened I encouraged them to focus on the response; the first responders, the helpers, those who draw together to provide a message of hope, love and unity. Our own cathedral staff, locked out of their building, took to the street to offer prayer and support- a visible sign of faith in a city which refuses to be a victim. 

The last twelve months since I was ordained as deacon, to serve here at St. Michaels, have had their ups and downs; moments of joy and of sadness. Our strength has come through how we’ve come together- both at times of joyful celebration and through grief and mourning. This is what being a community of faith is, this is how we reflect the light of Christ to the world around us. 

As I reflect upon what it means to be ordained as a priest on the 24th June, to serve this parish alongside my work at Christie Hospital, what I feel more than ever is the gospel we must proclaim is of Christ's inclusivity, of his drawing to himself the marginalised and outcast, broken and bereaved. 

We must also recognise the face in God in those who are different from us, those whose actions, motives and beliefs we can never understand, because we are all, without exception, made in the image of God and that can be uncomfortable reading when we know someone has committed an unspeakable act of violence. 

The bible verse I have seen more than any other this week is John 1:5

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

There’s light within each and every one of us but there is, I’m sure, darkness too. As we begin June with Pentecost it’s a reminder that whatever our struggles, both internal and external, God as Holy Spirit dwells within. The Chinese Christian teacher and leader Watchman Nee wrote:

Many saints cannot distinguish inspiration from emotion. Actually these two can be defined readily. Emotion always enters from man’s outside, whereas inspiration originates with the Holy Spirit in man’s spirit.

Whilst sometimes our emotions overpower us and lead our response, as Christians we must listen to the inspiration of the Spirit, placed within us to guide and to counsel, to lead and to teach. I pray the Spirit leads each of us to a place where we are a united body of Christ, moving forwards in hope.

Easter Day

God of little buds just now wearing green sleeves,
God of lilac limbs all full with signs of flowering,
God of fields plowed and black with turned-over earth,
God of screeching baby bird mouths widely awaiting food,

God of openness, of life and of resurrection,
Come into this Easter season and bless me.
Look around the tight, dead spaces of my heart
That still refuse to give you an entrance.

Bring your gentle but firm love.
Begin to lift the layers of resistance
That hang on tightly deep inside of me.

Open, one by one, those places in my life
Where I refuse to be overcome by surprise.
Open, one by one, those parts of my heart
Where I fight the entrance of real growth.
Open, one by one, those aspects of my spirit
Where my security struggles with the truth.

Keep me open to the different and the strange;
Help me to accept the unusual and also the ordinary;
Never allow me to tread on others' dreams
By shutting them out, closing them up,
By turning them off or pushing them away.

God of the Resurrection, God of the living,
Untomb and uncover all that needs to live in me.
Take me to people, events, and situations
And stretch me into much greater openness.

Open me.  Open me.  Open me.
For it is only then that i will grow and change.
For it is only then that I will be transformed.
For it is only then that i will know how it is
To be in the moment of rising from the dead.

(taken from may i have this dance; An Invitation to Faithful Prayer Throughout the Year by Joyce Rupp)

A suggestion for your prayer and meditation:

REJOICE, for Christ is RISEN!!!

Pastor Patty Fox 40 Days with 40 Christian Mystics

I hope that something within me has grown and changed and been transformed during these 40 days. My hope was to work on my spirituality and develop my prayer life. It's certainly given me a desire to delve deeper into mysticism, which I find resonates deeply with me.
I hope those of you who have read my posts have found some value in them and I thank Pastor Patty for originally taking this journey and blogging it so I could retread her path. 
As the prayers and meditations of the Northumbria Community have also been incredibly important over the last 6 weeks I leave you with their Morning Prayer blessing:

May the peace of the Lord Christ go with you,
wherever He may send you.
May He guide you through the wilderness,
protect you through the storm.
May He bring you home rejoicing
at the wonders He has shown you.
May He bring you home rejoicing
once again into our doors.

Day 40

One of my favourite meditations from the Northumbria Community came around again today:

Be open to the night…

Pray with open hand, not with clenched fist…

Shapes loom out of the darkness, uncertain and unclear: but the hooded stranger on horseback emerging from the mist need not be assumed to be the bearer of ill…

The night is large and full of wonders…

(Lord Dunsany)

Holy Saturday may be a day of darkness, of unknowing, but there are wonders - treasures - to be found in darkness. Pray with an open hand, not with a clenched fist. We're nearly there.

Day 39

Lent Day 39:

...Christian faith speaks about the paschal mystery, about Jesus Christ's death and resurrection as the first fruit of an inclusive harvest, about new unimaginable like breaking out through death itself and as a corrective to death.

Although for a time there was no glimmer of hope, God was near at hand, nevertheless, and Jesus was not ultimately abandoned.  The victory arrives through the living communion of love, overcoming evil from within.

To say this is not to rationalize suffering or to find a solution to the problem of evil or to offer cheap consolation.  The cross and resurrection scandalize and cannot be reconciled theoretically.

Rather, this event deepens the mystery of how God's solidarity with the suffering world brings about a future even for the most godforsaken.  It points to the real mystery of the trinitarian God as an ally against suffering and moves the community to the practice of love that corresponds to this mystery.

(from She Who Is: The Mystery of God in Feminist Theological Discourse by Elizabeth A. Johnson)

A suggestion for your prayer and meditation:

May all beings be free of suffering,
May all beings be at peace,
May all beings experience life breaking out,
May all beings be one with God.
Amen.
Pastor Patty Fox 40 Days with 40 Christian Mystics

Good Friday is a day dedicated to embracing the sadness, to dwelling with it, exploring it, accepting it. This is pretty counter-cultural as our society is perhaps more inclined to turn from sadness where possible; yet here we acknowledge our pain, name it and take ownership of it.