Not a Comfort Blanket

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(Acts 17, 22-31; John 14, 15-21)

 

Can you remember having a something which you used to comfort yourself when you were a baby or a small child? Or something your children had?

For some children it’s a dummy, for some it’s their thumb, while other children have a toy, and still others a piece of material like a sheet or a blanket, that they carry everywhere with them. It can be a real disaster, not just for the child, but for the whole family if the ‘comfort object’ gets lost. Families with foresight have a spare one (I know of one family who surreptitiously cut bits off the comfort blanket so that they would always have a spare). But even adults have ‘comfort objects’ that they rely on in times of stress – cigarettes, alcohol or food are common ones.

The Authorised Version translation of today’s Gospel passage from John has Jesus promising to ask the Father to send the disciples a “Comforter”, and perhaps, hearing those words, some of you, like me, have a picture of God sending down a teddy, or a piece of blanket to help Christian believers through the hard times ahead.

The original Greek in John’s Gospel, parakletos (παρακλητος) has always been a difficult word to translate; many of the Church Fathers struggled to find an appropriate word in their languages. The Authorised Version copied Tyndale and Wyclif’s earlier English versions in using ‘comforter’. But that choice shows how unwise it is to continue to use a version of the Bible in old-fashioned language, since the meaning of ‘comfort’ in the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries was almost diametrically opposite to what it means now.

When Wyclif and the translators working for James 1 used the word, it meant something that empowered you or made you stronger (as you can guess from its Latin roots which mean ‘with strength’). This makes sense of its use in Psalm 23, where the rod and staff of the shepherd give strength and confidence to the sheep. A comforter in this sense prepares a person for action and danger. In modern English, however, a comforter is understood as something that gives consolation to the weak, and particularly to children. It is inward looking rather than outward looking.

Paraclete is a favourite word in the writings of John. In the 1st Epistle of John it is used of Jesus , who as ‘paraclete’ pleads our case with the Father. In John’s Gospel it is used several times of the Holy Spirt. So, it is important that we try to understand what the write is trying to convey by the word.

Originally, in secular Greek a paraclete was someone who was called in to perform a public duty; later it was used of someone who was called in to stand alongside a person in a court of justice (in a similar way to the provision that you can have a ‘friend’ with you at an employment tribunal or disciplinary hearing).

The paraclete is not just called in to stand there, though; they are called in to do something to change things for the better for you. So it came to mean a lawyer, and advocate, a counsellor (in the American sense of a counsellor at law). More modern translations than the Authorised Version have used a number of different words and phrases to try to convey this: advocate, strength, helper, counsellor, one who befriends, one who stands with you.

So, the function of the paraclete is to stand alongside us, plead our case with God, and to empower us to do God’s work on earth, when we cannot cope in our own strength. When Jesus is no longer physically present, according to John, then the Holy Spirit does the same work in and through the disciples as Jesus did during his life. The paraclete as Holy Spirit is Jesus alongside us and Jesus working for us and through us. The Spirit and Jesus share the same character and do the same work in the world, revealing God and God’s purposes.

Now this may not necessarily be a ‘comfortable’ experience for Jesus’s disciples in the way which we now understand the word. Jesus interpreted the Scriptures for his followers and opened their minds to God’s call. He demonstrated what it was possible to achieve in a life dedicated completely to love and obedience to God.

But according to the Synoptic Gospels, especially Mark, he was often quite hard on the disciples, and told them very plainly when they had got things wrong or had misunderstood his mission. This is also a task which the Holy Spirit fulfils, as it leads believers into the truth. The paraclete is not just alongside as helper, but as a ‘critical friend’ (a phrase that will be familiar to anyone involved in education, especially as a school governor), who supports, but also is honest with criticism, asks leading questions and challenges actions, in the drive to achieve the best possible outcome.

There’s no time limit given for the action of the paraclete. Its influence is not limited to the apostolic age, or the time before the New Testament was written. The Holy Spirit continues to advise, strengthen and challenge believers in the present age.

Nor is the paraclete’s action limited to a particular place or a particular organisation. The Holy Spirit may work through the Church, but is also at work outside the Church. As Paul told the Athenians, God is at work in the world even when unrecognised and unacknowledged.

With the presence of the Holy Spirit, Jesus’s disciples will know in a concrete way the reality of the Trinity – that the Father, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are one in character and purpose and operate through love. This is not, however, a sentimental sort of love. It is love which is shown by keeping Jesus’s commandments.

Again, this is not a case of keeping a list of rules; the overriding commandment is to love – love God, love one another, love neighbour. A clear indication of what that means in reality comes from Jesus’ example, especially his humble and sacrificial service, even to those who despised, betrayed or denied him.

The Spirit is given to those who love and obey Jesus – and those who love and obey Jesus will show the fruits of the Spirit.

This passage also prepares the disciples (and the Church) for the fact that the powers that control the world will not understand this sort of love and obedience. Jesus was opposed and eventually killed by the political and religious authorities of his time. If the Church is being obedient to Jesus, it is likely to find itself frequently at odds with the state; and if it is too cosy with the state, or if its structure becomes too much like that of the political authorities, it is not likely to be being obedient to Jesus.

The Holy Spirit comes as a free gift from the Father to those who love and obey Jesus. It is not something they earn by believing the right things, or belonging to the right congregation, or worshipping in a particular way. Nor is it up to those who have received it to say who else may or may not receive it. That is up to God alone.

The Holy Spirit comes so that we may be empowered to do the work God has given us to do in obedience to Christ. It’s not a comfort blanket – it’s our spur to action.

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All we, like sheep……

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(Acts 2, 42-47; 1 Peter 2, 19-end; John 10, 1-10)

 

If someone called you a sheep, how would you feel?

 

I suspect you would feel insulted. The usual adjective that goes with ‘sheep’ these days is ‘silly’ or ‘woolly’ and the usual simile is ‘followed like sheep’.

 

Today most people value independence and intelligence in themselves and others – so being compared to something which is regarded as thoughtless and stupid, and which follows the group in a mindless way, is not going to be taken as a compliment!

 

On the other hand, however clever and independent we think ourselves, most of us like to feel we have somewhere secure to return to; so the idea of being kept safely in a sheep pen might appeal to all except the most adventurous among us.

 

In this first part of John’s meditation on Jesus as the Good Shepherd, he pictures the sheep in a pen in the village, surrounded by high walls, and guarded by a gatekeeper. The gate is only opened for the shepherd who owns the sheep, and they respond to his voice and follow him out. The gatekeeper will not allow anyone else near the sheep – if they want to get a sheep, strangers and thieves have to climb in over the walls, and the sheep will run away from them because they don’t recognise their voice.

 

This is a very different way of regarding sheep from our modern one. These sheep are not seen as silly – they know who they belong to. They hear and respond only to the voice of the person they know and trust, the person who will lead them to places where they will be safe, where they will be fed and grow.

 

They are also valuable. Sheep represented a major part of the the wealth of an individual or a community, so they were worth protecting and nurturing. They also represented for most people a celebration meal – meat was eaten rarely, and only on special occasions. Think of them, then, as the Palestinian equivalent of your bank account, and caviare, smoked salmon, fillet steak and champagne, all rolled into one!

 

That should make us feel better about being compared to sheep. This tells us that we are people whom God values, who are precious to him. All we, like sheep, represent God’s wealth on earth.

 

There’s only a very small amount of sheep farming going on now in the UK. But in, say, Australia, many people still have a lot of their wealth invested in sheep. Because of that, the sheep are marked with a brand. So, how are we, as Jesus’s sheep, branded?

 

 

We were marked at our baptism with a cross in oil or water, but that is now invisible. The only way we now show that we are branded with Jesus’s mark, is by the way we live. Our Acts reading tells us that the first believers were visibly marked by their experience of the resurrection and the descent of the Holy Spirit, so much so that even non-believers noticed the change. Are we distinguishable from our neighbours by our Christian way of life? Are we visibly owned by God?

 

In our second reading from the Letter of Peter, we are reminded by the writer of the way that Jesus lived, enduring abuse and suffering without complaint or retaliation, and are urged to imitate and follow him, as sheep follow their shepherd.

 

John distinguishes in the reading between the true shepherd who owns the sheep, and leads them to abundance of life, and ‘thieves and robbers’, false shepherds who want to exploit them. At the time when John’s Gospel was written, Jesus and his followers were accused of being ‘sheep stealers’, taking loyal Jews away from their true allegiance to the Law of Moses; in this passage, Jesus is accusing the leaders of the Jews of the same thing.

 

Jesus also says he is the gate for the sheep. A door or gate has two functions: it can let the sheep (the followers of a religion) out into the place where they are nurtured and grow, or it can confine them in a place where they can be at the mercy of false shepherds or thieves who will destroy them. This is what Jesus accuses the contemporary leaders of the Jews of doing.

 

It is worth pondering, then, what is it that steals people away from the true message of Jesus in our own time? What calls us in a voice which is not the authentic voice of our true shepherd?

 

It is hard sometimes to hear the voice of Jesus through twenty centuries of tradition and interpretation; though we are lucky that there are scholars (like the Jesus Seminar) who try to take us back to what Jesus actually said. Unless we can get back to the original words of Jesus, we may be following ‘thieves and robbers’ rather than the Good Shepherd.

 

The Good Shepherd is one who leads the sheep in the way that leads to ‘green pastures’, which stands for fullness of life. It is important to notice that, in this metaphor, the shepherd we follow is a living one. This passage is not talking about gaining fullness of life as a result of the death of the shepherd, but as a result of following his way of life.

 

So, as our other readings from the New Testament remind us, we are called to follow Jesus’ way of openness to the outcast and the stranger, of sacrificial service, and of peaceful opposition to the forces that oppress and dehumanise us and others. It may put our lives in danger (as Jesus says the Good Shepherd does in the verses that follow this reading); it will certainly involve living sacrificially.

 

That makes this a very good set of readings as we approach the start of Christian Aid Week in a week’s time, and as we enter a General Election campaign. They reminds us that we cannot help others without being prepared to sacrifice our own self, as Jesus did.

 

The Acts reading illustrates some ways of following the Good Shepherd in the way we live. Some of them may be appropriate to our lives now; others may not, but the passage should give us food for thought about the way we show that we are part of Jesus’ flock.

 

Acts tells us that at this time the followers of Jesus held all their goods in common. That ‘communal’ way of living is not something that works well in today’s society; but it does remind us that we should not regard our possessions as being just for our own enjoyment and benefit; they are meant to be used for the good of the whole flock. The goods of the believers were used for the benefit of those in need, as should ours be.

 

Acts also tells us that worship was important in the life of the first disciples. They went together to the temple on a daily basis; they prayed; and the Eucharist – the breaking of bread – was central to their lives. They were attentive to the teaching of the apostles, and they spent time in fellowship with each other. In all these way they went deeper into God on a regular basis and strengthened their commitment to following the Good Shepherd.

 

Their attitude was one of thanksgiving and joy. This made them attractive to outsiders. It was apparent that they were enjoying a new fullness of life. Their faith enabled them to do signs and wonders – through their faith they were transforming the communities in which they lived.

 

Their joyful attitude and the obvious mutual love and fellowship had the effect of drawing in new disciples, expanding the flock and increasing the wealth of their owner. This was not overt evangelism, but it was, and remains, the most effective sort of evangelism. People will be drawn into the fellowship of Jesus’ flock not by our words, but by the attractiveness of our worship, the strength of our fellowship and the witness of our service to the community. That is the sort of sheep fold that the flock of the Good Shepherd is meant to be in.

But the sheep in God’s flock are not meant to stay in the sheepfold for ever. We may remain for a time within the safety of the sheepfold; but the voice of the Good Shepherd invites us to follow him out into the wider world, to live life abundantly in the green pastures we will find there, transforming the community we live in and adding more and more new sheep to his flock

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Resurrection – word for word!

Sunrise at sea – Version 2Sermon for Easter Sunday 2017

 Acts 10, 34-43; Matthew 28, 1-10

 

Easter, like Christmas, is a Christian festival, and occasionally the media remember that, and publish a story that has to do with religious belief, rather than about bunnies and chocolate eggs and what we call them.

 

Last weekend, the BBC had a story about the results of a survey commissioned by BBC local radio about belief in the Resurrection of Jesus, and life after death. One of the questions they asked of 2,010 British adults was whether they believed in the resurrection of Jesus “word-for-word” as described in the Bible; whether they believed it happened but that some of the Bible content should “not be taken literally”; whether they did not believe in the resurrection, or whether they did not know.

 

I was not one of the 2,010, but if I had been, I would have been a rather uncooperative respondent. Before answering I would have asked ‘Which of the biblical accounts of the resurrection do you mean?’ and ‘What exactly do you mean by resurrection?’

 

The problem is that we communicate our beliefs about the resurrection of Jesus in words; but words are very inadequate and often misleading things to describe the transcendent reality that is the Easter experience. Whenever you put an experience into words, you are already beginning to interpret it. Moreover, you have to interpret it according to words which reflect your thought forms and already existing beliefs, and those of the culture from which you come.

 

The biblical accounts of the first Easter began with the experiences of 1st century Jews and Jewesses, whose world view was very different from that with which we operate. They would have been expressed in Aramaic, within a Palestinian Jewish culture. When these experiences were written down, they were written in Greek, within a Hellenistic Jewish culture. The Bible as we know it was then translated into Latin, and finally into English at different periods of English history. Each of these translation processes would inevitably have slightly affected the way the experience was expressed and understood, simply because there is very rarely an exact one for one correspondence between the words of different languages.

 

Let me just give you one example of how it affects our understanding of the Easter story. The Greek noun ‘resurrection’ amastasir appears hardly at all in the New Testament, and mostly in connection with the general resurrection that some Jews believed would happen at the end of time. When what happened to Jesus is described, verbs are used, and mostly verbs in the passive. That is, the New Testament does not talk about Jesus’ ‘resurrection’ or even ‘rising’ from the dead, but ‘being raised’ by God from death to heaven. But when we proclaim our faith, we never say ‘Jesus was raised’, always ‘Christ is risen’. Interpretation and translation have altered our understanding.

 

What is more, there are a number of accounts of the raising of Jesus, and appearing to people, and these, like the accounts of Jesus’ birth, are contradictory.

The earliest account, in Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, speaks of Jesus dying, being buried, and being raised on the third day according to the scriptures. He then appears to Cephas (Simon Peter), to the twelve (note 12 – not 11- even though Judas was supposed to be dead by now!) then to 500 people at once, then to James, then to all the apostles (who are they?) and lastly to Paul himself. There are several things to note about this account. Paul does not mention the women, the tomb, or any demonstration of a physical body, and he gives his own appearance of the risen Lord (at least a year or more after the crucifixion) exactly the same status as the earlier appearances to the first followers and family of Jesus. What is more, in the same epistle he argues that the body which is raised is a spiritual body, not a physical one, since ‘flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God’.

 

The Gospel of Mark records that Mary Magdalene and two other named women go to the tomb in Jerusalem and are told by a young man that Jesus is not there, he has been raised and they are to tell the disciples to go to Galilee to see him. No appearances are described. Matthew as we heard, has Mary Magdalene and another Mary going to the tomb (no Salome) to be told by an angel that Jesus has been raised and to tell the disciples to go to Galilee to see him. They then meet Jesus, worship him and the message is repeated. The eleven disciples go to Galilee and Jesus comes to them on a mountain and commissions them to go and baptize in his name.

 

Luke has an unspecified number of women going to the tomb, to be told by two angels that Jesus has been raised. They are reminded of Jesus’ predictions of his resurrection, and go back to tell the disciples. Mary Magdalene and others are now named. They tell the disciples who don’t believe them. Peter goes to see the tomb, and sees the grave clothes lying but no body. The first appearance of Jesus is to Cleopas (a hitherto unknown disciple) and his companion on the way to Emmaus. Jesus then appears to the disciples and others in Jerusalem and tells them to touch him and see he has flesh and bones, and he then eats a piece of cooked fish before them. He then tells them to wait in Jerusalem for the Holy Spirit (no trip to Galilee!) and takes them to Bethany, from where he is carried up to heaven. This last story is repeated in the beginning of Acts, except there it is Mt. Olivet near Jerusalem, and happens after 40 days. The coming of the Spirit happens several days later, on the feast of Pentecost. In the speeches in Acts, again there’s no mention of a tomb or a garden, but there is of the disciples meeting, eating and drinking with the risen Christ.

 

In John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene alone goes to the tomb and finds the stone rolled away. She calls Peter and the Beloved Disciple who run to the tomb. Peter enters the tomb and sees the grave clothes, as does the Beloved Disciple, who believes (in what is not specified). John says that the disciples did not yet understand the scripture that he must rise up. (John uses the active verb). Jesus then appears to Mary, and tells her he is ascending to God (not that he has risen!)

 

That evening, Jesus appears to the disciples in Jerusalem through a locked door, and shows them his feet and side. He then breathes on them and gives the Holy Spirit (no separate Pentecost gift). He appears again a week later the same way, through locked doors, and convinces Thomas to believe. The final chapter of John (which many scholars believe to be a late addition) records an appearance of Jesus by the Sea of Galilee to Simon, Thomas, Nathanael, James and John and two other disciples. The disciples do not at first recognise Jesus. They share a meal of fish and bread. This is described as the third appearance, but seems very like a first encounter with the risen Lord. Peter is then forgiven for his denial, and commissioned to lead the church and the manner of his death is predicted.

 

So, when people say they ‘believe in the physical resurrection of Christ word-for-word as described in the Bible’, which of these accounts are they referring to? Quite apart from the discrepancies in the appearances, there are inconsistencies in the descriptions of the burial and the tomb that make it inconceivable that what is being described is an objective historical occurrence.

 

Rather, I believe, as do many Christian theologians whose judgement I trust, that the Scriptures attempt to communicate, in symbol and myth, reworking the religious traditions of Judaism in the form known as midrash, the experience of the first disciples of Jesus, men and women, that we know as ‘the resurrection’.

 

This experience was real. We know that by its effects: by the change in the people who were the first members of the Christian Church from frightened men and women who ran home and hid, to those who were prepared to face persecution and death for their faith in Jesus as their Lord; by the change in them from orthodox Jews who held that ‘the Lord our God is one’ to followers of a new ‘Way’ who preached that Jesus of Nazareth had been taken up into God; by the change in them from those who shunned contact with non-Jews to those who preached the Jewish Messiah to all the known world; from those who saw death on a cross as a sign of separation from God to those who saw it as the gateway to eternal life in God’s presence.

 

So the proper question to ask of the Easter narratives in the Bible is not ‘Did it really happen?’ expecting answers in terms of things that can be experienced by the senses or filmed by a video camera. Rather the questions we need to ask of the Scriptures are “What was the experience of those first disciples, especially Peter, Mary Magdalene and Paul, that led to the dramatic change in them? What was it about Jesus of Nazareth that demanded his story be written and interpreted in terms of the sacred traditions of the Jewish people? What convinced these people that Jesus the carpenter from Nazareth who died as a criminal in a Roman crucifixion, could be acclaimed as the Messiah, the Son of Man, the Suffering Servant, the Logos described in the Jewish sacred writings.

These are questions that go beyond the arguments about what literally happened into the realm of the eternal and the transcendent – the world of the Spirit.

 

If I am asked: ‘Do you believe in the Resurrection?’ I would answer: ‘Yes. I believe that Jesus was raised after his death to glory with God.’ If I was asked if the disciples saw the risen Lord I would again answer: ‘Yes. I believe that at some time after the crucifixion (not necessarily on the third day, or after 3 days and nights, since that is ‘religious time’) the disciples saw Jesus in his exalted and glorified body, and that this was an experience shared by many people, some of whom are named in different parts in the New Testament and some of whom are anonymous’. If I am asked if I believe that Jesus is alive? I would answer: ‘Yes, in the same way that I believe all of us who have faith in his revelation of God will experience a life that death has no power to extinguish.’

 

What I personally do not believe in is that somehow the corpse of Jesus was resuscitated after lying in a grave for about 36 hours. I do not believe that his physical body escaped past a large stone from a tomb, passed through closed doors, ate fish and bread and was finally removed from this planet to an existence in some other part of this universe or outside it. I cannot believe that, because it is meaningless in terms of my beliefs about human life and death, about the physical universe and about the nature of God and God’s interaction with human beings.

 

At one time, the symbols of angels and the tomb, the stone rolled away, the stories of the body that was revived on the third day, the conversations with the disciples, the touching of wounds, eating bread and fish, expounding the scriptures, passing through doors, being in two places at the same time and so on were powerful vehicles of the truth of the resurrection for ordinary people. I don’t believe, that they are any more, and the survey that the BBC carried out seems to confirm that.

 

For some of those of us brought up within the Church, these symbols still carry a powerful message of the truth of God which Jesus showed us. But if we are to continue to bring that truth to many in our generation and the generations to come, we will need to engage once again in the task of translation, not just of the language but also of the symbols, so that new generations will be able to say: ‘We believe in the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ’ and will be empowered by their belief, as we are,  to live his resurrection life.

Sun up

 

 

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Good Friday Reflection

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Psalm 221-21; Mark 14.53- 15 end.

 

Today we reach the conclusion of the Holy Week story; perhaps the inevitable conclusion.

 

We have heard how Jesus rode into Jerusalem, riding on a beast of burden, fulfilling the prophesy of Zechariah of a ruler who comes in the name of the Lord, to bring peace and justice, presenting an alternative to the Roman forces who marched in at the same time. We have heard of his week teaching in the Temple, challenging the religious authorities by his words and actions.

 

We have remembered the institution of Holy Communion as Jesus ate the Passover meal with his friends, redefining the symbolism about the way in which freedom is achieved, and calling his disciples to share his vocation of love and service. We have heard of his betrayal by someone he regarded as a friend and companion. We have watched as all his friends deserted him in the face of a threat to their own lives and liberty.

 

We have witnessed the travesty of a trial before the religious authorities, who were willing to encourage perjury to rid themselves of this threat to their secure position. We have listened to the exchange with the political authority, to whom he was also a threat, a possible leader of unrest at a sensitive time.

 

And today we come to the final act: rejected by the mob, condemned to death in spite of his obvious innocence, mocked, beaten and tortured by the military, humiliated and executed in a most terrible death; and perhaps most dreadful of all, losing his confidence in the presence of the God of love.

 

And as we watch, and listen, and witness the death of Jesus, we remember also all those other innocent people who have suffered and died, and still suffer and die, at the hands of the vengeful mob, or the political or religious authorities.

 

And we remember our frailties, the frailties we share with our fellow men and women: the times when we have let down our friends, when we have turned against those who trusted us, or deserted those who needed our support because of fears for our own position, or our own safety; the times when we have misused the power we have, the times when we have bullied those who are in no position to resist, the times we have colluded with actions we know to be wrong, the times when we have discriminated against those who are different from us, the times when we have failed to speak up for the truth.

 

And as we contemplate the cross, which is the result of all those failures, we pray that we may be given the grace to turn again, and make a new beginning, raised up by God to a new life, following in the way which Jesus trod.

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Mothering Sunday God

img004When my mother was alive, I used to spend a lot of time in card shops at this time of year. She was a lifelong traditional Anglican, and to her this Sunday was Mothering Sunday, not Mothers’ Day, so that is what her card had to say; and there are not a lot of them about!

And that set me thinking: “What is the difference between Mothers’ Day and Mothering Sunday?”

I came to the conclusion that Mothers’ Day is about our own human mothers and what they do for us; and of course there is nothing wrong with a special day to celebrate human mothering and say thank you to our own particular mothers. But Mothering Sunday is a church festival and there needs to be something more to a Christian festival than simply celebrating something good about human life; it has to teach us something about God.

For me, Mothering Sunday reminds us that mothering is an attribute of God.

One of the great joys, when you have small children, or small grandchildren, is to receive card on this day which they have made themselves, especially if this includes an attempt to draw their mother or their grandmother – sometimes not a flattering picture to adult eyes, but done with love! And  usually the figure is recognisably female. But if you ask most people to draw God, whether a child or an adult, if they draw a human like figure, it will almost always be obviously male – often old, and with a beard, just to avoid any doubt.

Yet Genesis 1 says that God created humankind both male and female, in the image of God. God is not male or female, this passage says, God encompasses both male and female. The writers of the Old Testament, Jesus in the Gospels, and Paul in his letters all use images of mothers,  birds, animals, and human, to describe aspects of God’s care for us, and the pain and struggle of bringing us into newness of life.

Mother Julian of Norwich wrote in the 14th century: Just as God is our Father, so God is also our Mother. Who showed me this truth in all things, but especially in those sweet words: “It is I”.

As if to say, I am the power and the Goodness of the Father, I am the Wisdom of the Mother, I am the Light and the Grace which is blessed love, I am the Trinity, I am the Unity, I am the supreme Goodness of all kind of things, I am the One who makes you love, I am the One who makes you desire, I am the never-ending fulfilment of all true desires.

 

Marcus Borg, who died recently, wrote in his book “The God we never knew” of how his picture of God changed during the years. As a child he saw God as distant, stern, and constantly judging and reproving him. The image he carried of God was based on the minister of his church, an unsmiling man with grey hair, dressed in a long black robe, who shook his finger at the congregation when he preached and even when he pronounced the forgiveness of sins. But as Marcus Borg studied, and read the scriptures and some of the classics of the Christian faith, and prayed, his idea of God changed. Instead of a distant, powerful, king-like God, he came to believe more and more in a God who was close and all encompassing, who was within us as well as beyond us, who dominant characteristic was forgiving and loving and affirming; and the image that matched that best for him was of a woman minister, bending down at the communion rail to hand bread to a small child.

Two contrasting images of God – a male authority figure, shaking his finger at us; and a loving woman, bending down to feed us.

In spite of the fact that seeing God as Mother as well as Father is not a new insight, but goes back to the Bible and to the spirituality of the Middle Ages, many people still feel uncomfortable about it. And, if you are one of those people, I apologise. But I think it’s important to struggle with the idea, because it helps us to have a more complete understanding of the mystery which is God; and Mothering Sunday is a good day to do that.

What we know about human mothering tells us that it is incredibly important, especially to the smallest and most vulnerable among us. For the newborn baby, a mother gives everything – food, warmth, safety, company, comfort, education. Psychologists tell us that to the newborn, the person who gives them day by day care is their whole world. From them the child learns the beginnings of speech, and learns to interact and have empathy with other people, and to trust other people. Child psychologists also tell us that children who are not mothered grow up to have great difficulty in relating in a loving and trusting way to others. That’s an insight of modern scientific research – but it’s an insight also found in the scriptures, in the first letter of John; but there it is talking about our relationship with God. John writes “We love, because God first loved us”. God’s love, he says, the love that is like that of a mother for her infant child, is what enables us to love one another.

And mothering is not just important at the beginning of our lives. If we are to grow into the people God wants us to be, we will continue to need mothering throughout our entire lives. That mothering will not always come from our natural mothers; it will come also from our fathers, and our friends, our wider family and our spouses, and from everyone else who supports us with the unconditional, affirming, sacrificial love that mirrors God’s motherly love for us. And if we’re extremely lucky, we may even receive it from the church community!

It is the task of the church to reveal God to the world, through its words and also through its example. Mothering Sunday is a good occasion to remind the world, and ourselves that God is not just the transcendent King, Creator and Father, but also the immanent Mother, life-giver and source of love.

So, on Mothering Sunday, we celebrate and give thanks for not only our own mothers, but all those who, in whatever way, reveal to us the mothering of God – and they could be male or female, young or old, married or single, clergy or lay. And it’s a day when we remind ourselves of our commission to live God’s maternal love in the world, and pray for grace to do so.

So, if you’ve ever been inspired by the example of Jesus and the saints, and strengthened by the Holy Spirit to live out this vocation of nurturing, unconditional, sacrificial, motherly love, walk tall today! You have been privileged to play a small part in the revelation of God!

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You have no Bucket

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(Exodus 7, 1-17. John 4, 5-42)

 

In the gospel today, John paints a picture.

 

It’s one of those situations you dread, isn’t it? You pop out on a domestic errand, in a hurry, perhaps, or feeling low, so you deliberately choose a time when nobody much is about – and some stranger starts talking to you. It starts off relatively innocuously, with pleasantries, but, before you know it, you’re into the really deep stuff – discussion about the ultimate questions – what ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’ calls the Answer to Life, the Universe, and Everything.

 

That’s what John’s story tell us happened to the Samaritan woman who went to draw water at Jacob’s well at Sychar. We don’t know why she went to the well at noon. Most women went early, while it was still cool; and they went in a group, for safety, because the well was about a mile out of town. So, the woman was putting herself at risk by going alone in the middle of the day.

 

And when she gets to the well, she finds someone already there; an unknown man, who starts up a conversation with her. She has got herself into a situation where she could be in real trouble. So begins an encounter that will change her life.

 

We hear of this encounter only in John’s Gospel. We don’t know why John includes this story. Perhaps because his community included Samaritans and Gentiles as well as Jews, and other Jewish Christians disapproved; perhaps because his community allowed women to act as missionaries to both men and women, as other communities did not; perhaps because his community had the reputation of welcoming people with doubtful pasts, and were criticised for it.

 

We also don’t know whether it really happened or not. Just as Jesus told parables to talk about the Kingdom of God, so John uses stories to tell us about who Jesus is, and what his teaching means.

 

The encounter between Jesus and the woman is obstructed by misunderstandings, as are many of the conversations recorded in John’s Gospel. This is because the conversation is full of ‘double entendres’ – not of the rude kind, but because it is being carried on at two levels, the spiritual as well as the practical.

 

This encounter is obstructed by the preconceptions and prejudices the woman brings to the situation. We don’t know the full details of the woman’s past, but it is clear she has not had an easy life. She has had 5 husbands already. This doesn’t mean she was immoral; life expectancy was short, particularly for young males in an occupied country, and few women could exist on their own, so remarriage was necessary for survival; but even if she had been widowed 5 times rather than divorced, she would be regarded by others, and would regard herself as unlucky. Now she couldn’t find anyone else willing to risk marriage to her, so she was in an extramarital relationship. No wonder she was wary of men.

 

And this man was a Jew. She knew the longstanding hostility between Jews and Samaritans, so she probably went into the encounter expecting problems. Perhaps, if she had thought, she might have realised this man was different. Most Jews would not have travelled from Judaea to Galilee through Samaritan territory. They would have taken the long way round, along the Jordan valley, to avoid having had to buy food in Samaria on the way, as observant Jews would not eat Samaritan food, or drink Samaritan water, or use crockery touched by a Samaritan. But Jesus had come into the area, and sent his disciples to buy food in her village.

 

Most Jewish men, particularly respectable rabbis, would not have spoken to a strange woman, let alone asked for help from them. Yet Jesus treated the woman with courtesy, and opened the conversation by asking for her help. The woman should have realised from the way he treated her that this was no ordinary man.

 

But the woman is so hidebound by her own lack of self-esteem and her own preconceptions that she answers his polite request with a rude question of her own “How come you, a Jew, are asking me, a Samaritan, for a drink?”

 

Then Jesus moves the conversation onto a new level, by saying if she knew who was talking to her, she could ask him for living water. This is one of those moments when the conversation is on two levels; Jesus could just mean running water, like that from the mountain streams in his native Galilee; but on another level, he is talking about spiritual water, the water of life.

 

The woman however, is stuck in the practicalities. ‘You don’t have a bucket’ she objects, ‘and the well is deep. How can you get water without the right equipment? Are you greater than our common ancestor, Jacob, who had this well dug for us?’

 

What can we learn from this story?

 

We can learn first of all from Jesus, from the fact that he approached the woman at all, and from the courteous way he treated her. She was three times over an unsuitable companion for him – a woman, a Samaritan, of doubtful reputation. Who are the outcasts of our society? Do we, as Christians, always approach such outcasts with a similar courtesy? Jesus began by asking the woman for help, before attempting to give his teaching. Do we approach those we wish to evangelise in that way? If our Lord could ask for help before rushing in with his message, why can’t we?

 

But we can also learn from the woman. She came into the encounter blinded by her own prejudices and trapped in her own lack of worth. Because of this, she was unable at first to receive the grace that Jesus was offering to her.

 

The Catholic writer, Gerard Hughes, suggests that we all have our ‘well moments’, and our ‘bucket questions’. We are constantly laying down criteria for God to measure up to if we are going to listen to God’s voice.

 

Hughes suggests we make a list of all the ‘You have no bucket’ phrases we employ to avoid hearing God’s word to us when it comes from unexpected quarters. How about, ‘How can a gay person be a minister of the Church?’ ‘Why should I accept teaching from a woman?’ What have we got to learn about faith from Muslims, or Jews, or Hindus?’

 

Then, says Hughes, we should pray to be delivered from the prejudice, bigotry and snobbishness, the attachments to religious traditions and personal preferences which blind us to the gifts God is offering to us, and which make us reject the people God chooses as messengers.

 

But we can also learn from the woman about how not to receive God’s free gift of grace. On the outside, she was a strong woman, who engaged in witty chat with this stranger. But she was hiding behind strong defences; when he started to get personal, and talked about her marital situation, she quickly changed the subject and started a conversation about the relative merits of the Jerusalem Temple and the Samaritan Temple on their holy mountain. It didn’t matter how gentle and gracious Jesus was; she had been hurt too much in the past to risk opening up.

 

We too often hide behind our defences and refuse to accept the gracious forgiveness and unconditional love that God offers us in Christ.

 

There are no preconditions to an encounter with the Living Word, no price on the reception of the Water of Life. It is offered to us through Christ in love, and we receive it in faith, and allow it to do its healing and inspiring and transforming work in us. Once we let down our defences, the Living Water which Christ offers us will become part of our very selves, and as it bubbles up out of us, will bring life and salvation to others.

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All Manner of Things Shall be Well

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(Romans 8, 18 – 25; Matthew 6, 25-34)

 

After the Thanksgiving for Marriage service  last Sunday afternoon, I was talking with a young woman who had given birth relatively recently, and another older woman. As often happens when mothers talk together, we ended up sharing our experiences of pregnancy and birth.

 

That conversation came to mind as I read the text from Romans set for today. It is written img_0095grandma-sam-lucyin the language of pregnancy and childbearing. I find it fascinating that, although we think all our Biblical texts were written down by men, they so frequently use the analogy of giving birth to speak of God’s interaction with human beings and the created world. In spite of living in an age of hard physical labour, and frequent hand to hand warfare, they can think of no better example of great effort and enormous pain than the female experience of giving birth.

 

Paul speaks of the whole created order, the physical world and the animal kingdom as well as humanity, groaning in labour pains, as they wait for something better, more glorious, the offspring of God’s plans, to be revealed. Just as the gospel of John says “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.” (John 16.21) so Paul says the sufferings of the present time are not worth comparing to the glory that is about to be revealed.

 

Paul talks about the turmoil, crisis and suffering of the world in which he lived, a world in which many Christians were expecting the imminent return of Christ, and the establishment of God’s glorious kingdom on earth.

 

But his description has been true of every age since. It is true of our own age now. In our own country, we are facing deep divisions revealed by the Brexit vote. In Europe, we are dealing with terrorist attacks, the influx of refugees from the Middle East, Asia and North Africa, and the worrying rise of extreme right-wing nationalist parties. In the world, agreements to limit nuclear weapons are now potentially threatened by the election of a leader in the USA who has talked about using nuclear weapons in some circumstances; and for the world as a whole, progress towards slowing climate change are threatened by the possible intention of that same world leader to withdraw from the Paris Climate Change Agreement.

 

And in the Middle East, countries continue to be in a state of permanent warfare, with the prospect of it spilling over into a wider conflict involving the great powers; and the worrying thing is that some Christian groups, who are very influential with the present US government, think this conflict is to be encouraged, because of their literal interpretation of parts of the Book of Revelation, which sees a war in Israel/Palestine as heralding the return of Christ and the end of time.

 

Paul seems to be interpreting Genesis as actual history, describing a time when the world and human beings were perfect and there was no conflict and struggle. Then came the Fall, caused by human sin; and by God’s will, the whole created order, and human beings were subjected to pain, disaster, chaos and death. Paul is now waiting for the restoration of the original perfection in a glorious future.

 

Even if we understand Genesis as myth, expressing a longing for how we instinctively think the world should be, we can still hear Paul’s message of positive thinking. However bad things may be now and in the future, he says we can still proclaim the hope that when God’s reign is established, when we are revealed as the children of God, the world and the human race will be transformed into something glorious and eternal.

 

This last week there have been several headlines about the Church of England which have included the words chaos, turmoil and conflict. They were concerned with the decision by General Synod, by a very narrow margin, not to take note of the report of the House of Bishops on ‘Marriage and Same Sex Relationships after the Shared Conversations’. In effect, this meant that Synod, and especially the House of Clergy in which a majority voted against it, registered its dissatisfaction with the tone and content of the Report, and asked the Bishops to go away and try again!

 

This was a vote on one particular contentious issue, but one on which there are strong feelings on all sides, and which has caused people a great deal of pain. It is unlikely to be the major disaster, or to herald the dramatic change that those same newspaper headlines proclaimed. The Church of England has been here before, over the ordination of women as priests and bishops, over the remarriage of divorced people in church, and back at the beginning of the 20th century, over the Deceased Wife’s Sisters Act, which in its time was predicted to lead to the breakdown of marriage, and the end of civilization as we know it!Though those of us who believe rejection of the report was the right thing, do hope that this will be a step on the way to better things and a more glorious future – the full inclusion in the Church’s life and ministry of all people of faith and talent, regardless of their gender or sexuality – what Archbishop Tutu called ‘the Rainbow People of God’.

The well-known passage that is our Gospel reading is also urging Christian disciples to be positive. Don’t be too concerned about the future, Jesus is saying.

 

This is challenging stuff. Are we really supposed to take it literally? Is Jesus really saying we should not plan and shop for tomorrow’s meals. and not make sure that we and others have clothes to wear.

 

It is especially challenging to those of us who tend towards being perfectionists, even control freaks, who always like to think ahead, and make sure that everything is in place before we go anywhere or lead an activity.

 

In his teaching, Jesus often uses exaggeration to make us stop and take notice, as we heard last week with his command to us to gouge out our eyes, or cut off our hands if they cause us to sin. So, it is important to look closely at what he is saying to us here. He doesn’t say we shouldn’t think about these things; he is saying we shouldn’t worry about them, or get anxious about them It’s not a question of what we do, it’s about our state of mind, and the degree to which we allow concerns over wealth and dress and food, and other outward things to dominate our thoughts. That way, our concerns can become overwhelming, and lead to the black cloud of depression overcoming us.

 

What Jesus is asking us to do is to trust in God; trust that even when we cannot control what is happening, things will turn out well; asking us to put living under God’s sovereign rule in the front of our concerns, rather than our own security.

 

Two words to take from today’s readings: hope and trust.

 

lady-julian-of-norwich-009Hope and trust that, as the 14th century English mystic, Mother Julian of Norwich, assures us, even though she lived in the time of the Black Death, the Peasant’s Revolt and the Hundred Years War, “All will be well, and all will be well and all manner of things will be well’

 

I want to end by sharing with you a song based on those words, by Meg Barnhouse a pastor and songwriter from the Southern USA. I was given a link to it after the election of Donald Trump to the presidency of the US, and I’ve had it on the brain ever since.

 

 

 

 

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