Simul Justus et Peccator

Based upon Matthew 13.24-30,36-43

Today’s gospel in an incredibly difficult passage and not one I’ve relished having to unpick. We hear Jesus share a parable of weeds and wheat, growing together and then being sorted at the harvest, the weeds being burned up. Jesus even gives us a handy explanation which seems to tie everything together neatly.

And yet the parables are never that neat or easy to interpret, even when an explanation seems to have been offered. We have a knack of entirely removing the context and relating it to ourselves, often missing its meaning entirely. 

My difficulty with this passage is how it’s been used over the centuries- as a means to control through fear, as a way of perpetuating a view of the afterlife which I don’t believe in and doesn’t match the loving God I do believe in. it’s also been used as a means of virtue signalling; we are the wheat and you are the weeds. We are good and you are bad.

I don’t know if it’s necessarily a useful analogy for us here and now. It may have given reassurance to Matthew’s audience, and it’s interesting to note it only appears in Matthew, written for a people who were victims of oppression, violence and war, wanting the evil that caused their pain eradicated. Wanting to know there would eventually be justice. 

I have a rule when trying to decipher the bible. Does what I’m reading about who God is and how God is resonate with Jesus’ primary teachings? If not their must be something else going on.

The image of weeds and wheat is so inflexible- wheat can’t become a weed and weeds can’t become wheat. This doesn’t fit with the image of an all-loving God who loves each of us and knows we each have the ability to grow and change and become the people God knows we can be. No one is all good or all bad, we’re each a complicated, nuanced mixture. 

If there’s any absolute truth it’s that each of us is simultaneously weeds and wheat. Martin Luther had this absolutely correct when he said that we’re simul justus et peccator: we are at the same time, sinner and saint.

Our task is to recognise that within ourselves, to know what our weeds are, be realistic about them, name them and work on them. We run into trouble by imagining we’re weed free, that we’re only magnificent, flawless and faultless wheat. 

If we think about how God loves us it might be worth thinking about someone we love, how we love them; a child, spouse, parent or friend. We love them despite their imperfections, why would God be any different? 

The thing being in lockdown has forced us to confront is ourselves, and those we live with. Having no option but to be either alone with ourselves or those in our household for several months may have highlighted for each of us the things which irk us about those we love or those things within ourselves we’re not so happy about. 

I’m sure, for the most part, we still love those we live with despite the things which have annoyed us. Hopefully we can say the same thing about the person we see in the mirror. Can we accept our own weeds and love ourselves in spite of them?

There’s so much mystery in how God has created us and our world, and within that good and evil, saint and sinner, are held together in a constant tension, as the weeds and wheat grow alongside each other, the removal of one would damage the other. Our flaws contribute to the person we are.

Maybe one way we can interpret this passage is to know that eventually, when at the end we’re drawn into the eternal mystery of God’s love and become one with that love, all things are made good and pure and whole. 

The fire of God’s love transforms everything, even our deepest flaws and wildest weeds. Until then we live the paradox of being both wheat and weed, saint and sinner, and knowing that is actually how God intends it to be. Amen.

Splagthnizomai

Based upon Matthew 9.35-10.8

I’m sure many of us are pretty familiar with this passage, you’ve probably heard it preached on before, or maybe the similar passage from Luke or Mark. I’m not going to talk about what The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few means for us today, because that’s not what I’ve found interesting as I’ve mulled over this passage over the last few days.

I absolute love it when I read a passage of scripture which I’ve read dozens of times before but in that moment something different than before grips me, as if I’m reading it for the first time. That happened when I read He had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless.

Now I’m going to get a bit anatomical this morning – that’s a fair warning for those of you who don’t enjoy talk of bodily things.

Compassion is a wonderful word, and an even more wonderful component of our humanity. I think it’s a massive part of what it means for us to be made in god’s image. But it’s actually a bit of a “nice” or weedy translation of what the original Greek word used by the gospel writer means.

Their word was far more visceral – literally. I have a writer called Charles Erlandson to thank for this translation, and my Greek isn’t great, but the word splagthnizomai, comes from the word for inward parts or entrails and so means to be moved with “bowels of mercy” or to have a visceral, physical, reaction of compassion.

For me this translation completely transforms Jesus’ reaction to the crowd. I was trying to think of a modern comparison that might make the reaction relatable for us and one which came to mind was the collective response to watching Michael Buerk’s 1984 news report on the famine in Ethiopia. The report caused that visceral, gut-churning experience of compassion which then forced a reaction in us- in that instance a world-wide drive of action and aid.

It’s also really interesting to look at the translation of the word which has driven Jesus’ splagthnizomai. The Greek word used for the helpless crowd is, according to Church Times writer Angus Ritchie eskylmenoi - translated as “harassed”, but more accurately “mangled” or “torn asunder”. Another translation is feeling “flayed alive”. It’s another very visceral word, and these very physical words are a reminder that we have a God who has lived our human life with our human body and human emotions.

We’ve seen a lot of crowds on our screens recently but I don’t know if your own reaction has been one of compassion, or fear or anger. Now I don’t think that those protestors I’ve seen standing in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement have necessarily been fearful or leaderless, so this is in no way a direct comparison with our gospel story, but I think it may give us some degree of insight into how and why people have been driven to demonstrate even when it may be putting their own safety or the safety of others at risk in the middle of a worldwide pandemic.

I think protestors probably fall into two camps- the first are those who have felt harassed and helpless, mangled and torn asunder. People from black and minority ethnic groups who have experienced abuse, hate, racism, discrimination and “othering” from individuals, groups and institutions, or have witnessed it in others.

A world-wide coming together of circumstances has triggered a collective snap, and these protestors feel they can no longer live without much needed systemic change.

The second group of protestors I believe are those who have experienced the gut-wrenching physical compassion of witnessing the harassment and helplessness of others and have been moved into action, standing beside the harassed and helpless, and maybe even recognising their own part in the systems which have allowed discrimination to continue. 

Now I don’t know if the protests are right or wrong, I believe our right to protest is a fundamental one, but we are still in the grip of this awful virus, yet I do believe those who have chosen to protest are acting upon conscience and compassion.

It was incredibly moving on Monday evening to attend the Diocese online event Prayer and Protest where our own Cathedral Dean, Rogers, spoke of his experiences of racism and life in South Africa under apartheid. Archdeacon Karen talked about her inability of knowing whether to go out and protest or not- preparing to leave the house three times before finally staying home.

These are, as we are constantly reminded, unprecedented times and it’s so hard to know how to react and respond even when we feel that gut-wrenching compassion for the suffering others have experienced and continue to experience.

Jesus’ response to what he witnesses is in part to recognise that he alone is not enough. In this context I don’t think the harvest is plentiful, but the labourers are few is about going and making new recruits for the church. I said I wasn’t going to talk about that didn’t I? I guess it couldn’t be avoided but I read this as meaning there’s an awful lot of people out there who are in need of help and healing, and not enough of us willing to do the helping and facilitate the healing.

It’s also interesting to look at what Jesus’ form of help looks like; Recognising he needs help he instructs the 12. This is the first place they’re called Apostles, meaning sent, and he gives them their mission; cure the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. It’s practical and physical, it’s acts of healing and love, it’s making God’s love visible in the world. The foundation our church is built upon.

If our compassion drives us to want to act, how can we make God’s love visible in the world? How can we offer healing and practical help – and how can we do this in the middle of a global pandemic?

The most important thing we can do is educate ourselves. The General Commission on Race and Religion have made some suggestions. 

We can read articles or books or watch films and documentaries by people from other cultures and backgrounds. There's a lot of things we can view online right now- the documentary 13th and the film Belle are a good start. I've seen historian David Olusoga interviewed a lot recently and his book Black and British is on many of the recommended lists.

We can follow the social media of people or organisations which represent BAME groups.

We can visit online museums and cultural centres.

We can listen to friends who identify as belonging to another culture.

And we can learn about our own history and how that history has affected others.

Educating ourselves is the most important step but there's action we can take too- signing petitions on parliament.uk to bring about official response, writing to your MP about issues of racial justice, donate if you're able. There's a whole variety of causes you may wish to support financially, including a bereavement fund helping with memorial and funeral costs for BAME families who we know are disproportionately affected by covid-19.

A spokesperson for Hackney Stand Up To Racism said: “Our best way of fighting racism is in unity. Anti-racists are the vast majority and our strength is in solidarity and organisation and a refusal to concede a millimetre to the racists.”

If our role as a church is to be a visible sign of God's love in the world than I believe it's our duty to be actively anti-racist.

We’re the body of Christ and as we read in 1 Corinthians “if one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honoured, every part rejoices with it.” Amen. 

To follow up on this morning's sermon here is a resource list. These a just a few suggestions and is the tiniest tip of the iceberg:

LISTEN

Witness Black History' by BBC World Service https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/p01h9dl0/episodes/downloads

READ

'Black, Listed: Black British Culture Explored' by Jeffrey Boakye

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-Listed-Jeffrey-Boakye/dp/0349700559

‘Black and British: A Forgotten History’ by David Olusoga https://www.amazon.co.uk/Black-British-Forgotten-David-Olusoga/dp/1447299760 

‘Brit(ish): On Race, Identity and Belonging’ by Afua Hirsch https://www.waterstones.com/book/brit-ish/afua-hirsch/9781784705039 

WATCH

13th (2006) https://www.netflix.com/gb/title/80091741 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krfcq5pF8u8 

Belle (2013) https://thevore.com/film/35834/ 

The Unwanted: The Secret Windrush Files https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/m00068sk/the-unwanted-the-secret-windrush-files 

Britain’s Forgotten Slave Owners https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b062nqpd/britains-forgotten-slave-owners-1-profit-and-loss 

SIGN

UK Government and Parliament https://petition.parliament.uk/petitions?state=all 

WRITE

Write to your MP https://www.writetothem.com/ 

Email Gavin Williamson, Secretary of State for Education, to support The Black Curriculum’s campaign to address the lack of black history taught in UK schools. https://www.theblackcurriculum.com/action 

DONATE

Black Lives Matter UK (BLMUK) https://www.gofundme.com/f/ukblm-fund

Stand Up to Racism https://www.standuptoracism.org.uk/join-donate/ 

Majonzi Fund https://www.gofundme.com/f/majonzi-fund-covid19-bereavement-fund 

FOLLOW

Some suggestions here: https://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/black-lives-matter-anti-racism-activists-instagram-social-media-a9554186.html

Leaving the Sheep Fold

There’s going to be a lot of sheep metaphors today because the 4th Sunday of Easter is also called Good Shepherd Sunday. If we were to have our full set of readings we would hear the Shepherd and their sheep evoked in Psalm 23; by St Peter’s writings; and we would hear of those very first Christians in the Book of Acts living out a version of Jesus’ gospel teaching. 

There must be something important in what Jesus is trying to get across to his listeners in this passage because he’s using an image that comes up again and again throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. As well as probably the best known psalm, the shepherd metaphor is used by Isaiah, Ezekiel, Micah…Jesus must be trying to communicate something important about God’s character and intention, and how his hearer’s should respond to that, even if, as we heard in the gospel account, they weren’t quite grasping it.

I remember on this Sunday five years ago Huw’s dad came to preach- I don’t always remember sermons I must admit but that one stuck with me. He spoke of God’s care for each and every one of us. We’d just entered an interregnum so we were a flock without a shepherd; now we have a shepherd, but the sheep are scattered, unable to be physically gathered in our fold.

It’s an incredibly unsettling time as clergy, and all those involved in church leadership, and our team here at St Michael’s, try to work out what shepherding our flock looks like in lockdown- and beyond as we imagine what church and community may be like when the world, probably quite slowly, begins to emerge from isolation.

We also have the challenge of looking to the ultimate Good Shepherd, Jesus himself, and wondering how we live that God-infused abundant life in our varying situations right now.

The Good Shepherd has for centuries been used as the ultimate model of how a “good Priest” should lead, it’s written into our ordination rites, and is what I would hope we each aspire to. Jesus describes the shepherd as a gatekeeper, but gates can be used to keep people out or let people in, admission or exclusion.

Our task is finding ways to nurture and feed our community which admit as many as possible and exclude as few as possible. As we find these new ways of worshipping and sharing our faith we’re admitting new people through the gate, but at the same time these new ways aren’t accessible or helpful to all members of our community and they may feeling excluded or shut out.

But there is good news here for those of us worried about the flock, concerned that we aren’t able to care for all as we’d wish. 

In the shepherding metaphor we, the people of God are the sheep. Now your impression of sheep may be that they're kind of skittish and none too bright but if you’ve spent any time with them you come the realise they’re also pretty tough, they’re hardy and resilient creatures. They're out in all weathers, in all terrains and in all circumstances. 

Also, they don't require constant attention, they're pretty good at just getting on and doing their own thing without their Shepherd being constantly present- they just check in every now and again to make sure one of the flock isn't in bother. 

Essentially sheep are equipped for survival, if we're God's "sheep" that means we’re equipped for survival too!

We're experiencing a pretty tough time right now but I truly believe we are designed for tough times. Having faith isn't a magic bullet to protect us from times like these but part of what helps pull us through and weather the storm, knowing we aren't on our own; the shepherd may not always be in sight, but they're never too far from us either.

I read a couple of articles this week on the Patheos website by a David Roberts and they gave me a new perspective on the shepherding metaphor.

We see the sheep fold as the place of safety, maybe as our home or church, or the traditions of our faith that bring us comfort- but where is the shepherd? Not in the fold.

To lead us to the green pastures we hear of in that famous psalm, to the abundant life promised by Jesus, The shepherd calls us out from the fold, we follow their voice as we’re led through the wilderness and eventually we will make it to those green pastures to the life Jesus intends for us.

To all of us who’re trying to lead: please try not to worry, the flock know the shepherd’s voice and are a hardy bunch, built to weather the storm. And to us the flock; trust the voice you know is God’s, follow where it leads. We will weather the storm, we will pass through the wilderness and there will, eventually, be in green pastures. Amen.

John 10.1-10

‘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. The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep hear his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes ahead of them, and the sheep follow him because they know his voice. They will not follow a stranger, but they will run from him because they do not know the voice of strangers.’ Jesus used this figure of speech with them, but they did not understand what he was saying to them.

So again Jesus said to them, ‘Very truly, I tell you, I am the gate for the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and bandits; but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the gate. Whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly.

Nick Cave on prayer

The following is from a blog post authored by Musician Nick Cave. As a team we've been pondering if "prayer" is an inclusive or exclusive term as we (alongside many chaplaincy teams throughout the country) plan to light a candle at midday, each day, and pray for colleagues, patients and their dear ones who are effected by Covid-19.

The act of prayer is by no means exclusive to religious practise because prayer is not dependent on the existence of a subject. You need not pray to anyone. It is just as valuable to pray into your disbelief, as it is to pray into your belief, for prayer is not an encounter with an external agent, rather it is an encounter with oneself. There is as much chance of our prayers being answered by a God that exists as a God that doesn’t. I do not mean this facetiously, for prayers are very often answered.

A prayer provides us with a moment in time where we can contemplate the things that are important to us, and this watchful application of our attention can manifest these essential needs. The act of prayer asks of us something and by doing so delivers much in return — it asks us to present ourselves to the unknown as we are, devoid of pretence and affectation, and to contemplate exactly what it is we love or cherish. Through this conversation with our inner self we confront the nature of our own existence.

The coronavirus has brought us to our knees, yet it has also presented us with the opportunity to be prayerful, whether we believe in God or not. By forcing us into isolation, it has dismantled our constructed selves, by challenging our presumed needs, our desires, and our ambitions and rendered us raw, essential and reflective. Our sudden dislocation has thrown us into a mystery that exists at the edge of tears and revelation, for none of us knows what tomorrow will bring.

In our hubris we thought we knew, but as we bow our heads within the virus’ awesome power, all we are sure of now is our defencelessness. In the end this vulnerability may be, for our planet and ourselves, our saving grace, as we step chastened into tomorrow. Released from our certitude, we present our purest offering to the world — our prayers.

The original post can be found here

Broken Bread

Sonnet by Malcolm Guite used in this morning's service:

We thought that everything was lost and gone,

Disaster on disaster overtook us

The night we left our Jesus all alone

And we were scattered, and our faith forsook us.

But oh that foul Friday proved far worse,

For we had hoped that he had been the one,

Till crucifixion proved he was a curse,

And on the cross our hopes were all undone.

Oh foolish foolish heart why do you grieve?

Here is good news and comfort to your soul:

Open your mind to scripture and believe

He bore the curse for you to make you whole

The living God was numbered with the dead

That He might bring you Life in broken bread.

Tuesday of Holy Week 2020

Short meditation from last night's service of prayers for wholeness and healing.

On Ash Wednesday we entered the wilderness; we started a journey that began with the words “remember you are dust and to dust you will return” on a day set aside for us to remember the fact that one day we will die.

 

How could we have known, less than 6 weeks ago, what Holy Week would look like this year, just how deeply we would be in the wilderness place and how starkly we would be confronting death.

 

That’s a journey not one of us would want to begin, buts it’s the journey we’ve had no choice but to be led on.

 

In our Holy Week readings Jesus has now entered the last week of his life, and he knows it. But he still takes time to provide comfort for those around him:

 

Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.

 

What light can we find in the midst of all this darkness? What do those glimpses of light point us towards?

 

Maybe it’s our faith, our family, the kindness of people we didn’t know before this or the gratitude of someone we’ve helped.

 

I’ve seen God in so many people through these last few weeks; in acts of random kindness, in the coming together of communities, in the finding of new ways to be together; as friends, families and churches. In the slower pace of life, in the enforced sabbath rest. God is here in it all.

 

Those glimpses of light are glimpses of God, and therefore glimpses of love. The morning canticle from the Northumbria Community helps us to pray each day to be directed by the light:

Christ, as a light illumine and guide me.

Christ, as a shield overshadow me.

Christ under me; Christ over me;

Christ beside me; on my left and my right.

This year when Easter day dawns and we meet the risen Christ we’ll still be in the wilderness. Again, I look to the Northumbria Community for comfort with words from their evening prayer: Lord you have always lightened this darkness of mine; and though the night is here, today I believe.

I believe God is holding us in this darkness, I believe Jesus meets us in the wilderness and walks beside us. We believe in the light to carry us through the dark. We believe in the light, so that we may become children of light.

Amen.

Love alone overcomes fear

This is the message I read during yesterday's eucharist from my home.

A Message from Richard Rohr about COVID-19

Love Alone Overcomes Fear
March 19, 2020

It is shocking to think how much the world has changed in such a brief time. Each of us has had our lives and communities disrupted. Of course, I am here in this with you. I feel that I’m in no position to tell you how to feel or how to think, but there are a few things that come to mind I will share. 

A few days ago I was encouraged by the Franciscans and by the leadership team here at the CAC to self-quarantine, so I’ve been in my little hermitage now for three or four days. I’ve had years of practice, literally, how to do what we are calling “social distancing.” I have a nice, large yard behind me where there are four huge, beautiful cottonwood trees, and so I walk my dog Opie every few hours.

Right now I’m trying to take in psychologically, spiritually, and personally, what is God trying to say? When I use that phrase, I’m not saying that God causes suffering to teach us good things. But God does use everything, and if God wanted us to experience global solidarity, I can’t think of a better way. We all have access to this suffering, and it bypasses race, gender, religion, and nation. 

We are in the midst of a highly teachable moment. There’s no doubt that this period will be referred to for the rest of our lifetimes. We have a chance to go deep, and to go broad. Globally, we’re in this together. Depth is being forced on us by great suffering, which as I like to say, always leads to great love. 

But for God to reach us, we have to allow suffering to wound us. Now is no time for an academic solidarity with the world. Real solidarity needs to be felt and suffered. That’s the real meaning of the word “suffer” – to allow someone else’s pain to influence us in a real way. We need to move beyond our own personal feelings and take in the whole. This, I must say, is one of the gifts of television: we can turn it on and see how people in countries other than our own are hurting. What is going to happen to those living in isolated places or for those who don’t have health care? Imagine the fragility of the most marginalized, of people in prisons, the homeless, or even the people performing necessary services, such as ambulance drivers, nurses, and doctors, risking their lives to keep society together? Our feelings of urgency and devastation are not exaggeration: they are responding to the real human situation. We’re not pushing the panic button; we are the panic button. And we have to allow these feelings, and invite God’s presence to hold and sustain us in a time of collective prayer and lament. 

I hope this experience will force our attention outwards to the suffering of the most vulnerable. Love always means going beyond yourself to otherness. It takes two. There has to be the lover and the beloved. We must be stretched to an encounter with otherness, and only then do we know it’s love. This is what we call the subject-subject relationship. Love alone overcomes fear and is the true foundation that lasts (1 Corinthians 13:13).