Harvest of the Word.

(Acts 2,44-47; John 1,1-5 & 9-14)


When I was a primary school class teacher, there were certain types of children who drove me up the wall!

One of these was the child who was always doing something wrong – usually the same thing – and when found out and reprimanded, always said, “I’m really sorry, Mrs. P.”

One of these repeat offenders apologised so regularly, that I was once driven to say in reply, “You’re not really sorry. You say so, but you don’t mean it. If you were really sorry, you’d make an effort to change yourself, and not keep on doing the same thing wrong!”

I sometimes wonder if God feels like that about Harvest Thanksgiving!

I imagine the Almighty sitting up there, hearing “We plough the fields and scatter” sung for the millionth time, watching the baskets of fruit, the harvest loaves, the marrows, the tins (and even these days, the razors and the soap) pile up, and saying, “Yes, this is all O.K. but if you were really thankful, you’d make an effort to change things in the world, to make it a better place, and you wouldn’t  keep repeating all the things you do wrong”.

IMG_0414Of course, part of our expression of thankfulness to God for the riches of creation, the work of human hands, our clothes and our food is to hold services such as this: to make the church beautiful, to sing God’s praises, and to offer samples of the harvest to God. The Old Testament shows us that in doing this we are part of a tradition that goes back to the time of Moses, and probably, long before that.

But many of the Old Testament accounts of harvest make the point that there is a second part to any meaningful thanksgiving, a point made also by the reading from Acts we heard this morning. That second part is to share our plenty with those in our local community who haven’t benefited so obviously from God’s bounty: the elderly and lonely, the homeless, the refugees, and those who because of debt or unemployment or low wages, don’t have enough food at the moment. When we bring our harvest gifts of food to donate to the Food Bank and the Catholic Worker Farm, we are acknowledging that second essential part.

And there is yet a third part, which has come more and more to the fore over recent years. That is to work for justice for those who provide much of our food, by campaigning for justice in trade, and for the relief of debt; by working for better care of the earth, through opposing the things that contribute to climate change, and destroy essential creatures, like bees; and by campaigning for improvements in the lives of those who don’t yet reap the benefits of improved living standards in other parts of the world.

There is sometimes a reluctance to emphasise this part of our thanksgiving. “Why can’t we just have a party?” people say. “Why do we have to make ourselves miserable thinking about politics and all those people in want?” But as Paul told the Corinthians, sharing with those in want is not an optional extra; it is an essential part of giving thanks to God, and it is to be done not reluctantly or out of duty, but with joy, as an expression of our genuine acknowledgement of God’s goodness to us.

Harvest Thanksgiving is a reminder to us that we are stewards of God’s earth, and that God expects us to be good stewards; which means we have to take decisions and act on God’s behalf in the world. There is no-one else to do that if we don’t. This linking of worship and action for social justice is a theme which runs through the Old Testament, especially in the words of the prophets, and in the book of Deuteronomy, and it is there in the New Testament too.

So, the offerings of food which we have brought today will be shared locally, but our cash contributions will be given to the Bishop’s Harvest Appeal, which this year is supporting a project in Egypt to improve literacy among women.

The project is run by a partner of Christian Aid, Coptic Orthodox Church Bless, which works with whole communities, setting up village development committees to bring people together to address the issues they are all facing. Women’s literacy is just one of these issues.

In Egypt, as many as 4 in 10 women cannot read. In traditional communities there, many girls are kept at home to care for younger siblings, and even those who go to school may marry young, and so don’t finish their schooling. Sabren Awad, one of the women featured LearningPres1-200x300in the appeal materials, describes how it limits female confidence, happiness and ability to cope with modern society; “I cried because I couldn’t help my children with their homework. I was annoyed with myself,” she said But after COC Bless started literacy classes for women in her village, and she learnt to read, she became happy and confident. Now she teaches other women these skills and says: “I feel my own standing in the community has increased”.

The United Nations, along with many other organisations, has highlighted how important women’s literacy is in combating poverty, improving access to education among both girls and boys, and improving child health. Literate women live longer, and they have smaller families: literate women start their families later, and have fewer, healthier children. Even a few years of female education results in a drop in infant mortality, and greater use of health clinics. The families of women with some education tend to have better education, housing, clothing, income and sanitation.

All these things are particularly important in Egypt, where more than 20 million people live below the poverty line, and the political upheaval after the Arab Spring in 2011 has left social instability in its wake. Many families have lost members, particularly the men, meaning that women need to be better educated to become the main breadwinners. Many villages now are without police support; one of the women featured in the appeal material, Soheer Azey, has been inspired to try to become a police officer to support and protect others like herself. Christian Aid and its partners like COC Bless, are working to support communities to find ways to rebuild their lives and livelihoods and have hope for a better future.

Many of our harvest hymns, like ‘Come Ye Thankful People Come’, are not actually about growing crops. They are about the harvest of lives and souls, produced by spreading the Gospel of Christ. One of the metaphors that the Scriptures use for Christ is ‘The Word’ which brings light and life to those who live in darkness, as we heard in the Gospel reading from John. Not a reading you would expect in a Harvest service, but one which is especially relevant to the Bishops’ Harvest Appeal project for this year.

We who follow ‘The Word’ are being asked to give the gift of words to women in a faraway place, a gift which will bright light into their lives and revolutionise their prospects. This work for social justice is as much a part of our Harvest Thanksgiving as the traditional displays of flowers, fruit and other produce.

The prophet Isaiah tells us that when we celebrate Harvest, God does sometimes say: “The offer of your gifts is useless… I cannot tolerate your new moons and your festivals; they IMG_0412have become a burden to me, and I can put up with them no longer……. Cease to do evil and learn to do right. Pursue justice and champion the oppressed, give the orphan his rights, plead the widow’s cause”.

That is what God demands of us in a real Harvest Thanksgiving.


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Who do you say that I am?

Isaiah 51, 1-6; Romans 12, 1-8; Matthew 16, 13 – 20.


It’s a normal question to ask when you meet a person for the first time. “Who are you?” Sometimes you probe further, “What do you do for a living?” “Where do you come from?” Whatever the answer, it will have to be couched in terms the questioner will understand. It would be no use telling a native of an Amazonian rain forest tribe that you’re a computer programmer; it would mean nothing to them. That occupation only has meaning in the context of a modern technological society.

It’s most unusual, on the other hand, for someone to ask you, as Jesus is shown doing in this morning’s Gospel reading, “Who do people say I am?” and almost unheard of for someone to ask “Who do you say I am?”. Which is a sure indication that what we are dealing with here is very unlikely to be a record of an actual historical conversation, but is actually a statement of the belief of the early Church.

The Jesus we know from the Synoptic Gospels did not seem to be at all interested in what people thought about him. He didn’t talk much about himself. What he talked about was God, and God’s Kingdom, and how people should act in order to serve God’s Kingdom on earth. He didn’t ever claim to be the Messiah, he didn’t ever claim to be the Son of God. When his followers, or those he healed, or the demons he was exorcising gave him those titles, he commanded them to be silent.

Yet, within a generation of his crucifixion, when the Synoptic Gospels and Acts were written, he was being proclaimed as Messiah – in Greek ‘the Christ’, in English ‘The Anointed One’. It had become so much associated with him that it had changed from being a title – ‘Jesus, the Christ’ to being something like a surname, ‘Jesus Christ’ or even to being a name on its own, ‘Christ’. Then, by the third quarter of the first century it was being used as a way of describing his followers, who became known, as we are, as ‘Christians’.

But what did these titles mean to those who first used them? In the Judaism of the time of Jesus, there was a hope for a Messiah, a person appointed by God to save Israel, defeat her enemies, and restore the Jews to freedom and pre-eminence. It was not a major element in their faith, but it was an expectation among ordinary people, and a subject of speculation among some of the sects, such as those who lived at Qumran, and whose writings we have in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

The main expectation was of a Messiah who would be a king in the line of David. This King Messiah would defeat the Gentiles in battle, would restore the fortunes of Israel, would instil the fear of the Lord in the people, lead them in holiness of life, and administer justice with righteousness. Other ways of referring to this person were ‘Son of David’, ‘Branch of David’ and ‘Star of Jacob’.

There were claims that this person had come, especially during the time of the last uprising of the Jews against the Romans in 135-137 AD, when the leader of the rebels, Simon bar Kosiba, was renamed bar Kochba, ‘Son of the Star’ by those who thought he was the promised Messiah.

There were other expectations though. Because the royal line of David had died out, and the Jews were not allowed a ruler of their own, the High Priests exercised political as well as religious power. So some groups expected a Priest Messiah rather than a King Messiah. Simon Maccabeus, who lived aobut 150 years before Jesus, was praised in Messianic terms which spoke of his star rising, and the Dead Sea Scrolls speak of the Messiahs of Aaron (a Priest Messiah) and of Israel (a King-Messiah).

Then there was an expectation that one of the great prophets would return to herald the coming of the Messiah, as we read in the New Testament; but there was also some expectation of a Prophet Messiah, either alongside the King and Priest Messiahs, or as one facet of a person sent from God who would combine all these roles.

Some texts, especially after the 1st century AD spoke of a pre-existent Messiah, whose name and essence were known to God before he came into the world, but who remained only an idea until he was actually born. Other texts said he would not know he was the Messiah until God anointed or appointed him. However, the one characteristic of all these Messiahs was that they were human, and like all other humans, they would die.

It is perhaps because Jesus’s view of his mission was so very different from all these expectations, and the reality of his life and death did not in any way fulfil popular ideas of the coming of the Messiah, that the New Testament shows him as commanding his disciples and the demons to keep their ideas secret, and moving immediately to foretell his passion and death after these acclamations.

Similarly, the title ‘Son of God’ would not have had the overtones of divine status that it does for us, influenced by nearly two thousand years of church dogma.

Several sorts of people in the Jewish society of Jesus’s time might have been known in this way. The Jewish Bible called three groups of beings ‘son of God’: angels, the people of Israel as a whole, and particularly the Kings of Israel. Psalm 2 says to the Davidic King “ You are my son”.The Dead Sea Scrolls say the Messiah is God’s son. Therefore, it was natural to combine this title with that of the King Messiah.

But in the inter-testamental period, it was also a designation of a just or good man, or one who worked wonders or healed people. The Book of Ecclesiasticus says “be a father to the fatherless and God shall call you his son and deliver you from the pit’. Jewish charismatics at the time of Jesus believed that saints and teachers who were especially close to God were acclaimed in public by a Divine voice which called them ‘my son’. This voice was heard only by spiritual beings, evil as well as good, which was why demons are shown as recognising Jesus as sent by God.

Another feature of the holy men or Hasids of Judaism at this time is that they called God ‘Father’, using the Aramaic term ‘Abba’ which Jesus also used.

All these traditions would have fed into the disciples’ belief that Jesus was, as Peter proclaimed, ‘The Messiah, the son of the Living God’. Some strands of early Christianity saw his Messiahship as beginning with his resurrection and Ascension, others from his baptism, and yet others from his birth or before. There was a need make major adjustments in their thinking to cope with a Messiah who did not fulfil any of the expectations of the King/ Priest/ Prophet Messiah, but who was condemned as a criminal and died on a cross.

Eventually, the Jewish understanding of the terms was lost in the Christian Church, as its Jewish element grew smaller and smaller and eventually died out all together. The move into the Gentile culture of Greece and Rome, and nearly three centuries of Hellenistic philosophical and religious debate ultimately transformed the meaning of these titles of Jesus for the Church, which acclaimed him as the second person of the Trinity, the ‘only-begotten Son of God, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God’ that the Nicene Creed proclaims.

The understanding of Jesus as a divine being, sent down from heaven to live and die among us, and returning to heaven to reign with God until he comes again to judge the world is one that has been full of meaning for people in the centuries since Nicea. But it doesn’t seem to have much meaning for many people in our time. It has often been pointed out, by Bishop John Robinson among others, that whereas at one time the heavenly realm was more real to people than a foreign country, nowadays the exact opposite is true. Nowadays, to speak of heaven and divine beings is seen by many as talking about something that is unreal, on the same level as fairy stories.

If we are to convince people that the spiritual world is a real and relevant as the material one, then we need to present Jesus in a way which means something real to the people of our time and culture. It is obvious from the New Testament that when people came into contact with Jesus, they knew they were in the presence of someone special, someone whose words and actions opened their eyes to the reality of the Living God. People today are just as much in need of that encounter as they were then.

Our mission and ministry, the mission and ministry for which we were commissioned at our baptism, is to enable that encounter to take place. We hold the keys to the Kingdom, just as the first disciples did. But to do so, we will have to find new answers to that age old question of Jesus, “But who do you say that I am?” answers that are true to the life and teaching of Jesus, but which will resonate with the hearts and minds of people of our time.

Then, when we have discovered and agreed that renewed way of speaking of Jesus as ‘The Christ, the Son of the Living God’ wended to proclaim it to the world, and live it out in our lives.

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Sticks and Stones

(Romans 11.1-2 & 29-32; Matthew 15, 10-20 & 21-28)

 Canaanite woman

‘Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names can never hurt me!’ How many of us have had that rhyme quoted to us by our parents when we came home from school complaining that we’d been called ‘fatty’, or ‘big ears’ or ‘four-eyes’ by one or other of our classmates.


And of course, as we adults now know, what our parents told us then is codswallop, complete nonsense!

Names can hurt people. Name calling on the basis of differences of race, or religion, or sexuality, can wound people deeply, and even drive people to self-harm or to suicide. There are frequent examples in the news of people hurt so badly by names they have been called, especially about their sexuality, that they try to kill themselves to escape from the hurt. Names cause real damage, especially when used against people from minorities, or those whose sense of identity is fragile, or who have a damaged sense of their own worth.


That’s the whole point of calling people derogatory names. It is meant to separate ‘them’ from ‘us’; name-calling is meant to diminish them, to make it clear that ‘they’ are inferior. Name calling says

“You are not like us

we are the normal ones

you are the deviant

we are the powerful ones

you have no real power;

if you try to be like us

we may accept you,

….but that depends on us

and on how deviant you are.

Don’t ever say your way is as valid as ours;

We might get worried

We might attack

….. in fact We are who we are

because you are not who we are !


Name-calling is meant to hurt.


Which is why, if we are really listening to the miracle story in the Gospel reading for today, it should shock us profoundly. Although Jesus did not directly call the woman who came pleading for her daughter to be healed a derogatory name, he did so by implication. Now, we British are a nation of dog-lovers, but even so, none of us would  dream of calling anyone a ‘dog’ to their face; and any religious leader who compared a woman who came asking for help to a ‘bitch’ would soon find themselves front page news in the tabloids.


In first century Palestine, it was an even worse insult than it is now. Although Jewish households did have dogs, they were working animals, not pets. They were forbidden food according to the Jewish dietary code, and the strictest observant Jews ruled that their presence and touch made people unclean. Yet it was the term Jews regularly used for Gentiles, emphasising that they were outside the chosen people, unclean, of no concern to God.

Scholars who have written commentaries on this passage have struggled to find a way of freeing Jesus from the charge of being insulting and racist. Some have suggested that Jesus rebuffed the woman with a smile, spoke playfully, or referred to ‘puppies’ to make his refusal to help her seem less harsh and discriminatory. But being compared to an unclean animal is still insulting, even if it is said playfully or with a smile.

 Canaan dog

Other commentators have suggested that Jesus was just testing her faith, while always intending to help her. But as with the story of Abraham being asked to sacrifice Isaac as a test of faith, the sort of Saviour this ‘testing of faith’ shows us is abhorrent, hardly a being we would wish to worship. We expect divine beings to act with more consideration and love for others than us, not less. And anyway, other passages make clear that Jesus initially did believe his mission was only to the Jews; he made it clear when he sent out his disciples on their own.


So what conclusion can we come to about this incident? I think it shows that, just like all of us, Jesus had to learn, and grow in his understanding of what God expected of him. Just like us, he had to be freed from the prejudices and limitations of his own time and culture. He grew in wisdom, not just during his childhood, but during his adult ministry too. The Gentile woman made him change his mind, his assumptions about who he was and what he was doing.


One of the very disturbing things about this story is that it tells us God used someone his contemporaries would have viewed as a three times over despised outsider to teach Jesus a new truth. This miracle story is recounted only in the gospels of Mark and Matthew. In Mark the woman is a Syro-Phoenecian, but Matthew calls her a Canaanite, a member of the race that the Hebrews had to conquer and displace when they entered the promised land. So, to him and his disciples, she was not just a foreigner, an unclean Gentile, but a representative of the enemy!


Then, she was a woman. All adult women were ritually unclean at so many periods in their lives –when menstruating, after giving birth – that most religious teachers avoided being near them at any time, in order to avoid possibly being polluted by their touch.

Then, thirdly, she had a child who was possessed by a demon, and that would have led her to be shunned too, since such a misfortune would have been believed by many to be a punishment for some wrong-doing on her part. No wonder the disciples tried to shoo her away!


But she was desperate for help, and nothing was going to deter her. She pushed past the disciples, she ignored the insulting language, she found the witty reply to grab Jesus’s attention, and claimed the salvation he brought for herself and her daughter. She challenged the Messiah of Israel to reconsider his mission, and to offer the renewal of life he brought to a despised outsider.

The earlier part of the reading shows that Jesus was already sitting light to some of the ritual laws about washing before meals, that were so important to the Pharisees and those who challenged his understanding of God’s Kingdom. Already, he was judging some laws to be more important than others, and returning to the message of the great prophets, that how you acted, especially towards the poor and the vulnerable, was more important to God than ritual and keeping rules.

But what she taught Jesus was a message the Church has been slow to learn, and is constantly having to relearn, as circumstances change, and we encounter new categories of outsiders to name-call and exclude.


The Book of Acts and Paul’s letters show the infant church in the time of the apostles struggling with the question of whether Gentiles could become Christians without first becoming Jews, and adopting the food laws, and practices such as circumcision. It was something which deeply divided the church community, with the Jerusalem Church under Peter and Jesus’s family holding the line that the Way was only for Jews, and Gentiles who followed it had to convert; while Paul and his allies argued the message of Christ was for all the world. The letters of Paul, and the fact that the story of Peter and Cornelius is told 3 times over in chapters 10 and 11 of Acts, demonstrates what a crucial and divisive question this was.


Our reading from Romans shows that even Paul struggled with the implications of including Gentiles. Did it mean that his own people, the Jews, were excluded, because so many of them opposed the mission of Jesus and were complicit in his execution? Or did God’s salvation encompass both Jews and Gentiles? That question was settled so decisively that many Christians nowadays forget that Jesus and all his early followers were Jewish, and don’t find it strange that John’s Gospel can refer to those who opposed him as ‘the Jews’.


But the Church has continued to try to limit the wideness of God’s mercy. Again and again, it has labelled different groups of people as pagans, or heretics, or sinners and judged them to be unworthy to be leaders or even to sit at God’s table.


The story of the Canaanite woman shows us that those we seek to exclude, people who are different, awkward or disturbing, often have lessons we need to hear. We none of us have all the answers, and we all need to go on learning from others, and especially those outside our own community, throughout our lives as Christians.


So let this unnamed woman, with her desperate need, teach us today to listen to those who demand the salvation Christ brings. We pride ourselves on being inclusive – but whose voices are we failing to hear, whose needs are we refusing to meet, because of the limits of our vision? Who today is being pushed to the margins of the Church, but is still shouting and demanding to be fed even some crumbs from God’s table?


When are we, like the disciples, trying to push people away and shut them up, because what they are asking makes us feel uncomfortable? Who do we treat as dogs foraging for scraps under God’s table, instead of inviting them to share God’s abundance as honoured guests? Who do we dismiss as unworthy, at the same time as we say to God each week that we ourselves are “unworthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under his table”? Who do we insult, and label as unclean, instead of acknowledging them as sons and daughters beloved by God?


If even Jesus, our window into God, God’s beloved Son, needed to have his eyes opened and his vision expanded by the persistence of a despised outsider, who is it that  call names and try to silence, who is in reality, shouting out God’s truth to us today?

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Don’t be Afraid.

( 1 Kings 19, 9-18; Romans 10, 5-15; Matthew 14, 22-33)

I spent all of the early part of my childhood living near the sea. My mother was also brought up at the sea side, and we spent our holidays with my grandmother and my aunt – who both lived by the coast – so I was always at ease in the water. I can’t remember learning to swim – I just always could, and in those days I did things I’d never dream of doing now. When we lived at Dover, I used to jump off the breakwaters into the sea; when I look at them now, as we go through Dover to join a cruise ship, I wonder how I ever had the nerve.

I swam and played in the water with confidence only because my mother was nearby, and I was sure she would not let me get into difficulties and would rescue me if I did. But coming from a family with seafarers in my ancestry, and spending so much time near the sea taught me a respect for the power of the water, especially when it was rough weather. That means I would never have dreamt of doing anything as stupid as getting out of a boat into a rough sea, as Peter is shown as doing in our Gospel reading.

But we are not meant to take this story literally. As the Dean of St Albans Abbey, Jeffrey John, pointed out in his book “The Meaning in the Miracles”, trying to find out what actually happened when these incidents took place – or even if they did – is pointless. What is important is what the Gospel writers are trying to tell us through the miracle story.

First of all, the miracle is telling us about Jesus. There is a strand of the Old Testament that sees the sea as the place of chaos, inhabited by sea monsters who cause storms and the deaths of seafarers. But one strand of the creation myths, echoes of which are found in the Psalms and Job, tells how Yahweh defeated the sea monsters to form the earth. So, when Jesus calms the storm, the text is telling us that God is present. There are also passages in the psalms which talk of God walking on the surface of the sea. So when Jesus walks on the water, the story again is telling us that God is present in him. And just to confirm it, Jesus says, “Don’t be afraid, I am” ( using the name of God given to Moses in Exodus).

The miracle is also telling us that Jesus is at hand to help, even when he appears to be far off. Perhaps the church for whom the Gospel was written was going through a time of troubles, when they thought their very survival was in question, like those in Iraq at the moment; and as their troubles continued, they felt that God in Jesus had deserted them. The waves and the contrary wind represent everything that was against them. The story tells us that on the contrary, though unseen, Jesus is keeping watch on them from far off, and will come to them when they really need him – and that when he is there, the storms will be stilled, and they will reach their safe harbour quickly. In this, the story of the stilling of the storm echoes our Old Testament story. Elijah, too, thinks God has deserted him, and sinks into depression and despair; but it is only when he has reached this lowest point that he is able to hear the ‘still, small voice’ of God, commissioning him to undertake the impossible in God’s name.

Secondly, the miracle of walking on the water is telling us something about the life of the Christian disciple. It is telling us to trust in God’s care and presence, even if we cannot feel him close. It is telling us to trust that his help will be there when the storms and troubles are at their worst, when we most need it. It is telling us to keep our eyes upon Jesus if we want to succeed in following him.

Peter, the story tells us, was able to walk on water so long as he kept looking at Jesus. It was when he looked down, and let his trust be overwhelmed by fear, that he began to sink. In the same way we need to keep Christ at the centre of our thoughts as we live out our discipleship, and to trust in the way of love and acceptance he showed us, however difficult it may seem. We follow the path of discipleship not in our own strength, but in the strength we get from Christ. That is why being part of the Body of Christ, the Christian fellowship, is so important for us. If we try to do God’s work in our own strength, through our own limited resources, we will not succeed. This is also the message of Paul in our passage from the letter to the Romans. It is through our faith in Jesus that we will be saved, not through our own actions, however righteous.

But this miracle story also tells us that sometimes God in Christ will call us to get out of the boat, and do something amazing for him. Too many of us live our lives firmly sat down in the safety of the boat, firmly enclosed in our own comfort zone. In our church life and in our daily lives, we are not willing to take risks for God. But sometimes Jesus asks us to metaphorically leave the boat, and go into dangerous waters to meet him – because Jesus is not sitting where it’s comfortable and safe – he never did! So, the story is saying, be ready to leave your comfort zone if Jesus calls, and be willing to do things you would not normally do – you will never know you can walk on water until you do.

Of course we will sometimes fail; but that should not deter us from making the attempt. What people tend to remember about Peter is that he sank – they forget he was the only one of the disciples to be courageous enough to make the attempt. Just as they remember that he denied Jesus – and not that he was the only one of the Twelve who came out of hiding and followed Jesus to the High Priest’s house.

Taking risks and failing is as important as succeeding. We cannot live our lives without risk. Our present day society tries to minimise risks, especially with children – and as a consequence we are raising a generation who don’t know how to judge when a situation is really dangerous, or how to cope when things get difficult, or how to judge who to trust. With our children, and with ourselves, we have, sometimes, to face difficult situations in faith, even if we fail.

The story reassures us that, when we do try, and when we sometimes fail, God in Jesus will be there to catch hold of us and keep us safe. If we keep trusting in God, he will not let us go under.

The final and most important message to Christian disciples from this miracle is contained in Jesus’ words, “Do not be afraid”. As Bishop Gene Robinson said in his sermon at Putney before the last Lambeth Conference, we live in a world and in a church which is paralysed by fear. Much of it is unrealistic, a fear of things and situations that are not really so much of a threat as they seem. But whether it is realistic or not, the effect of being afraid is to prevent us from loving, and loving is what we are commanded to do in Christ’s name.

“Do not be afraid. I am” said Jesus. And the storm ceased and the wind dropped.

When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was sent a prayer in the Celtic style, one of a collection by David Adam. I found it a great help in keeping me calm and unafraid when things were difficult. Perhaps it will help you to stay confident in the midst of the storm, and even to walk on the water, if Jesus calls you to do so:

Circle me O God. Keep peace within. Keep turmoil out.

Circle me O God. Keep calm within.
Keep storms without

Circle me O God. Keep strength within.
Keep weakness out.


KL Methodists August 2011.
St Andrew’s Watford August 2008
St John’s Heronsgate August 2014

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Wisdom, Word and Parables

Sermon for Proper 12A

(I Kings 3, 5-12. Matthew 13, 31-33, 44-52)

Mustard seed oncarpetWe’re just coming to the end of the season of church annual synods. Many of them – the Methodist, the Church of England, and the United Reformed Church among them – have been considering contentious issues to do with gender and sexuality.

On the surface, these issues are about ethics and church practice; but actually, what lies beneath the ethical and theological arguments are questions about the Bible, and more specifically the use, abuse, status and authority of Scripture. This is not a new issue (though some commentators would have us believe it is a 21st century phenomenon) It is an issue which comes up again and again in the history of the church. It is a perennial question, which takes an enormous amount of unravelling, because it is so closely entwined with culture, and varying concepts of what constitutes authority.

Anglican belief has always been based on a combination of Scripture, tradition and reason. Methodists add ‘experience’ to those three. But some parts of our traditions insist that Scripture takes precedence, or even that it is the only basis on which we make judgements about what is right to do. But even if you accept that, how do we judge which bits of Scripture to obey?

If we are to deal intelligently with the debate over the use of Scripture, we need to understand the way different parts of scripture came into being, the different forms it takes, and the cultural and religious context in which it was formed.

Our readings today give us the opportunity to look at two different forms of Biblical teaching – wisdom literature and parables.

pearls-of-wisdomIn the Old Testament tradition all wisdom literature, and particularly the Book of Proverbs tends to be ascribed to King Solomon (just as all Psalms are ascribed to David and all Law to Moses). Hence the significance of our Old Testament passage, where the young king asks God to grant him wisdom.

Wisdom literature is a distinctive strand in the Israelite tradition. In our Old Testament it is found in not just in Proverbs, but also in Ecclesiastes, in most of the Book of Job, in Psalms 1, 32, 34, 37, 49, 112 and 128 and in the Song of Songs. In the Apocrypha, it is found in Ecclesiasticus and in the book entitled ‘Wisdom of Solomon’.

However, modern scholarship has shown that it is highly unlikely that all of this writing was the work of King Solomon. Wisdom writings were common across the ancient Near East, and there are numerous parallels in the Book of Proverbs to the Egyptian ‘Instruction of Amen-em-opet’. The Apocryphal book called the Wisdom of Solomon was almost certainly written after the Exile in Babylon. The Wisdom literature of the Old Testament and the Apocrypha , in fact, comes from across the whole time span of the pre-Christian period.

Wisdom literature was able to cross cultural boundaries because it was chiefly interested in the individual, and the problems of human existence, and because its teaching drew on observation of the natural world and human life to make its point.

One strand of wisdom consists of practical advice, expressed in short memorable phrases about how to get on in life and run your family. Much of the Book of Proverbs is like this. There are lots of proverbs about bringing up children – and several about living with a nagging wife! There are proverbs about being lazy or stupid or being wise and hardworking, and others about how to deal with powerful and rich people.

Another strand however, is more philosophical and ponders on the deeper meaning of life: what is the point of existence, why do good people suffer, where does true wisdom come from? The link between the two forms of wisdom writing, the practical and the philosophical, was the belief that both the moral world and the natural world reflected the mind of God

In Jewish tradition, wisdom was seen as a gift from God, and later wisdom writing saw Wisdom (who became almost a separate divine person, and who was female!) as the companion and agent of God in the process of creation. In the New Testament, Wisdom became identified with ‘The Word’ and therefore with Jesus Christ, the second person of the Trinity.

Then, in our Gospel reading we have a collection of parables, another form of Biblical writing. The Hebrew word for proverb, ‘mashal’ was also the word for parables. Both were memorable ways of teaching. Both drew on observation of the natural world to cast light on the spiritual world. Both could be quite short.

There is a lot of discussion among biblical scholars about what passages in the Gospels are the actual words of Jesus, and which have been added by the Gospel editors. One thing on which they are all agreed is that the parables are the original teaching of Jesus, and that parables were the characteristic mode of teaching which he used in his public ministry.

There’s a comment in Mark’s gospel chapter 4, which says that Jesus taught in parables so that some people who heard him wouldn’t understand. That is almost certainly an addition by the writer of Mark, designed to explain to his readers why the Jews who heard Jesus did not accept him as the Messiah. In fact, the opposite is true. Jesus taught in parables precisely because this concrete, pictorial teaching would be accessible to anyone, no matter what their education or intellectual ability. Since the parables, like the wisdom literature, drew on observations of the natural world and human society which anyone could make, the parables have continued to be accessible across cultures and across time. Though we may no longer live in a predominantly agricultural society, we still have sufficient contact with the natural world, and with largely unchanged human nature, to understand what the parables are describing.

book bread of lifeThe allegorical explanations for some of the parables were very probably added by the Early Church, to apply them to current situations in their religious life. Originally, however, most of the parables were designed to make one particular point. Some of them were just a couple of lines; others were full blown stories with a cast of characters. In all of them, the hearers are presented with a situation, asked to make a judgement on it, and then (either explicitly or implicitly) challenged to act on that judgement in their own lives.

One big difference between wisdom teaching and parables is that, whereas wisdom taught generalities, which could be applied in any situation and any culture, parables were about a specific situation. So, to understand Jesus’ parables, we need to understand the context in which they were told. Very often, as in several of the parables in today’s Gospel reading, we are given the context. Jesus tells us he is talking about the Kingdom of Heaven, (better translated as ‘God’s Sovereign Rule’) which is being ushered in by his ministry. He is challenging his hearers to recognise that, and to act on that recognition.

With that in mind, we can make an attempt to guess the particular point each parable is making. The Parable of the Mustard Seed refers back to passages in Daniel where a great tree sheltering birds stands for the reign of God, and so perhaps challenges us to recognise that although Jesus and his disciples are few, the Kingdom of God will come through their ministry.

mustardTree-300x200Leaven works from inside the dough, so the Parable of Leaven is perhaps teaching that the leaven of Jesus’ presence is bringing new life to the Jewish faith.

The parables of Treasure in a Field and the Pearl of Great Price are perhaps emphasising the supreme importance of following Jesus and making enormous sacrifices for the Kingdom. The Parable of the Drag Net, seems, like other parables to be promising that the consummation of the Kingdom is coming soon, but also gives the message that it is up to God, not us, to sort out who will be admitted into the Kingdom and who rejected. And then there’s the parable at the end of the passage – which some might not recognise as a parable at all – about the householder who brings both old and new things out of his store; is this, perhaps, urging the teachers of Israel to be ready to learn about and incorporate into their faith new insights from Jesus into what the Kingdom is all about.

But these are only possible explanations. The whole point about parables is that they were vivid and memorable, yet at the same time they left the mind in sufficient doubt about their precise application to prompt people into continued questioning of the stories, trying to tease out what exactly they meant. That was Jesus’ chosen way of teaching. He didn’t give rules; he didn’t provide set answers; he said ‘This is what I believe the Kingdom of Heaven is like; what do you think?’

This is something we need to remember when certain sections of the Church try to tell us “You have to believe this” or “You have to subscribe to that” if you are to be counted as a Christian. If there is any element of compulsion in that decision, it is not Jesus’ way.

The Word, in his wisdom, chose to teach us about the Kingdom of Heaven in parables, inviting us to walk with him, alongside others who are seeking the way, and to explore and question and decide, each one for ourselves, what God wants of us. Let those who have ears to hear, listen!


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The Message of the Kingdom


(Matthew 13.1-9 & 18-23)

I’m not the gardener in our family, but the parable of the sower still rings bells for me. Over the years, I’ve grown things from seed, most recently a small patch of wild flowers to encourage the birds and insects. I had to clear the patch of weeds and stones before I sowed the seeds, but it was still impossible to tell the weeds from what I had sown when they came up! (But that’s another parable!)


Judging by the number of gardening programmes on the television, this parable will ring bells with other people too. We may no longer be a nation of farmers and agricultural labourers – but many of us are interested in growing things, even if only on our own small plots. So we will all identify with the sower in his problems.


And this, of course, was Jesus’ intention when he spread the message of the Kingdom through parables. As many of us were taught in Sunday School, a parable is ‘an earthly story with a heavenly meaning’. As a good teacher, Jesus told stories about familiar things, which people understood. Their first reaction would be, “Oh yes, I know all about that” but then, “I wonder what he’s really getting at?”


Most recent Biblical scholars have taught that parables were meant to make one point only. In the case of the parable of the sower it is a message of encouragement. The farmer ‘broadcast ‘ his seeds, as was the custom in Palestine. His ground was of mixed quality, with some very shallow soil with rocks underneath, a path around the edge, and although it had been cleared of thistles, their roots hadn’t been dug up. Lots of the seed went to waste – yet his sowing still produced an abundant crop (even allowing for the oriental exaggeration in the story, for Galilee was a very fertile area.) So Jesus is telling his hearers not to worry if their work seems to fail in some areas; God will bless their work and make it fruitful as they proclaim the Kingdom in word and deed.

Jesus ends the story with an enigmatic comment “Listen then if you have ears”. This is his sign that there is something more to what he has been saying than just a story. Jesus seems to have followed the old military precept ‘Never apologise, never explain’ when he preached the message of the Kingdom. He expected his listeners to do some work for themselves and work things out, so he didn’t give them the solution to the meaning of the parable.

Sower modern

So how, then, do we account for the next section of Chapter 13 verses 18-23, which interpret this particular parable?


This section probably comes from the stage in the growth of the Christian community, before Matthew wrote his Gospel, when the faith was spreading into the Gentile world. As Geza Vermes reminds us, in his book ‘Jesus the Jew’, in using parables, Jesus was using a typical teaching method of the Jewish rabbi. Jews accustomed to Palestinian teaching methods would have needed no explanation – but non-Jews would have needed every detail spelt out. Indeed, they might have expected it, since interpreting stories as allegories, when every detail meant something, was the fashion in the Greek world of the time.


Hence the allegorical interpretation of the parable in verses 18-23. The explanation completely reinterprets the parable. The seed changes from standing for the good news, to standing for different sorts of people who receive the good news. Some are unresponsive and easily tempted, and the message never takes root in them. Others have a shallow faith, make a start, but then give up when things get hard. Some cannot withstand temptation; but there are still enough whose faith takes root to bring great results.


Now, I know that some people are worried by being told that parts of what is written in the Gospels may not be the original words of Jesus. They imagine this is equivalent to accusing the Gospel writers of telling lies. But this is not the case.


We believe that the Holy Spirit inspired Jesus when he taught. We believe that the Spirit inspired the writers of the Scriptures when they wrote. We believe, that if we ask, the Spirit will inspire and guide us when we read. But the Spirit’s inspiration will not override the normal and natural processes of our human minds.


So, whenever we read anything, what we understand is the product of a complex interplay between what was originally said, how the writer interpreted and recorded that, and what we bring to our reading of the passage from our own culture, education, experience and situation. So, people from different cultures and from different times are bound to ‘hear’ different things.

It is the task of Biblical scholars (inspired also by the Holy Spirit) to unravel the different layers of interpretation contained in the Bible, to help us in our reading and understanding. This is not just a modern practice. The scholars of the Jewish nation said of their Scriptures that they had several layers of meaning: first of all there was what was called Pshat - the plain and obvious meaning; then there was Remez – or hint – the implied meaning, referring forward to the Torah and Jewish history; thirdly, there was Drush - the meaning found by philosophers; and lasting there was Sod – the hidden meaning, accessible only to the mystics. So we should not be surprised that God’s Word, conveyed to us through the pages of Scripture, has a new message for each generation of the Church.


So as we read the Bible and receive the message of the Kingdom, we may be led by the Spirit to reinterpret it anew for each new age.

How we do so will depend on our outlook and our personality; but our reading will always be limited by our understanding that the primary message is about God and the kingdom.

So I want to offer you a reading of the parable of the sower, informed by our situation in the world today, to guide us in the way we should spread the Word of God – our seed – today.


Some of the seed falls on the path. Paths are made of earth that is trodden hard. For me, this ground stands for the down trodden peoples of the world; for nations where there is no freedom, for groups in society that are discriminated against. In this sort of situation, the forces of evil find rich pickings. Before the seed of the gospel can take root in this ground, the soil needs to be dug up, turned and loosened – so that the air of freedom and the water of encouragement can circulate, and the plants that come from the Gospel seed can send down roots. In these situations, the work of sowing the seed of Gospel truth will involve first preparing the ground by working for social justice.


The shallow soil with rock beneath speaks to me of those people who are dead inside – who are unable to receive the good news of God’s love because their spirits have been killed by self-hatred, low self-esteem, shame and past abuse. On the surface, these people may seem to be fine, fertile ground – but though their relationships may begin well, they always self-destruct, as their roots come into contact with the dead area inside. There will need to be long, patient works of preparation, often by carefully trained experts, before the Gospel seed can take root here: breaking down the hard rock, clearing the remaining stones away, then enriching what is left with a new topsoil of unconditional love and compassion and acceptance.


The seed which fell among thorns represents perhaps the most common ground in which present day evangelists try to sow the gospel seed. People nowadays lead busy lives, crowded with demands , distractions and temptations – from work, from their social life, from the media and the internet, from within their family. Often they can find no space for the seed of the Gospel to take root. It will not be much good just hacking at these ‘weeds’ when they show above the ground. That would be to do as the Palestinian farmer did, destroying the obvious weeds above ground, while leaving the roots to sprout again, grow up and take over. We need to dig deeper, into the fabric of society, and help to clear away the roots from which these social weeds spring. Also, we can provide – perhaps at first only bit by bit – areas and times of peace and freedom from demands, where the Kingdom can take root a few seeds at a time, and the crop can begin to bear fruit.


But, even this interpretation of the parable of the sower comes back ultimately, to the central message of the Kingdom that Jesus preached. God’s kingdom will come! Our efforts may seem small, our results unspectacular in the eyes of the world. But where God is at work through us, nothing, nothing, can prevent a glorious harvest.

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Choosing a Leader

5b211e94bcdee3a1ec4723456fb0e751-d26a0vl “Rejoice, daughter of Zion. Your king comes to you, triumphant and victorious is he, humble and riding on a donkey.”


“For John came neither eating and drinking, and they say ‘He has a demon’; and the Son of Man comes eating and drinking and they say, ’Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners’.”


Human beings find it very difficult to choose their leaders. At one time, of course, they had little say in the matter. The most powerful person got the job. But now, in our more democratic age, people can influence the choice, and are free to say what they do and don’t what. But this hasn’t made life any easier, because different people want different things from those who lead.


The tendency is to ask for too much, for qualities that can’t possibly be met by one person. I once heard an Archdeacon say that every parish who prepared a profile of the new vicar they wanted, asked for the Angel Gabriel, but with a wife and 2.4 children. I am sure Methodists churches look for similar things in their new ministers!


Our two readings today are both concerned with the characteristics of leaders.


The Zechariah passage comes from the time when the Jewish exiles had returned from Babylon, and were rebuilding the temple in Jerusalem. The royal line of David had disappeared – but there were still some people who hoped for a king of David’s house, who would lead them to military glory. Zechariah promises them a different kind of king – one who would triumph through negotiation and peacemaking; one who would end the need for arms and armies; one who would build community, and be a servant king, symbolized by the fact he would enter his capital on a donkey, not a war horse.


To some extent, the expectations of a king Messiah who would lead the Jewish nation to conventional victory persisted into New Testament times. But gradually other expectations were formed, fed by meditation on the Scriptures. As the Dead Sea Scrolls have shown us, there were hopes for a prophet Messiah and a priest Messiah, as well as a king Messiah.


Jesus, in the passage from Matthew’s Gospel, is redefining all those expectations. He claims to know the mind of God, not as God’s servant, but as closely as a child would know the mind of its parent. What God wants of us, he says, is that we should rely on God and rest on God; then we will find that the yoke of religion is light, not repressive, and will bring peace to our souls. Obeying God is not a matter of following a host of rules, but of being close to God and being true to what God made us to be.


At this time of year, we tend to be thinking quite a lot about our religious leaders. In both the Anglican and Methodist churches, ordinations take place around the end of June and the beginning of July; and for Methodist churches, July and August are the months when ministers move from one station to another, and when congregations may have to adjust to different styles of leadership. At the Methodist Conference, the new President and Vice-President take office, and the ones for a year’s time are elected. In the Anglican Diocese of St Albans, we will shortly be looking for a new Suffragan Bishop of Hertford, as the present holder of that office moves on to become Bishop of Liverpool.

All of these ordinations and changes involve consultations and decisions about what sort of leader churchgoers want nowadays. Different groups have different ideas!

Some ask for a pastor, some for someone who can work with people from other Christian traditions and other world faiths, and who can hold together groups with differing views. Some ask for a person who is good with youth, as numbers of young people attending our churches diminish. Others think it is important to have someone who can hold onto the older people we have got! People ask for someone who can inspire more realistic giving; or a pioneer minister, who can reach out to people who don’t find their spiritual needs met in conventional churches, who can encourage people to dream dreams and explore new ways of ‘being church’. Most ask for a person of prayer.

Some people are looking for moral perfection in their religious leaders. But we are all fallible humans, and as Jesus said “No-one is good but God alone”. Some people are looking for a leader who will give us all the answers; but Jesus rarely set down rules and regulations about beliefs or morality; more often he told a story and asked his listeners to draw their own conclusions. Some people are looking for someone who will give a moral lead, and condemn those whose behaviour they disapprove of; but Jesus ate and drank with such people, and welcomed them into the company of his followers. As the reading from Matthew shows, it is impossible to find a leader who will please everyone!


I want to suggest to you that the sort of leader that the church needs at the beginning of the 21st century is one who is, like the Messiah promised in Zechariah, humble and a person of peace. We need someone who sits light to authority, as Jesus describes himself as doing in the Gospel, and who does not impose too many conditions on those who seek to come to God through the institutional churches.


Our modern religious leaders no longer need to be people who do everything themselves. Rather, they need to be enablers and encouragers of others. As presbyters and deacons, bishops and superintendents, they will have their particular experience and training to offer to the church; but others, the lay members, will have experience and training which the clergy don’t have; in particular, the experience of living as a Christian in the world of work, and also perhaps, training in current management and personnel practices. A wise leader will value and make use of these, as well as other talents and skills, which lay Christians offer.


Any new leader will act as a focus for the local church where they serve, but he or she will be a focus in a church which is increasingly diverse. If they attempt to impose their own views on the church, whatever they may be, they will fail. I believe, that the primary task of any Christian leader nowadays will be to hold the church community together, and to teach its many factions how to live with disagreement, and how to talk through their differences without splitting the body.


In the passage from Matthew, Jesus compares those who hear his word with two different groups of children. One group he compares unfavourably with children who complain when they can’t get their own way, and refuse to play. There are groups in the church who all too frequently act like that.


Jesus compares others to children who accept whatever is offered to them with enthusiasm, their minds untrammelled by prejudice or convention. This group gains his approval.


All those in positions of Christian leadership will need our prayers, as they face the enormous responsibility and the enormous opportunities of leading each part of the church into the future. Let us pray that all Christian leaders will find, as our Lord promised, that God’s yoke is easy and his burden light.


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