Justification by Faith and Baptismal Regeneration

This week, I've been working through a little book on historical theology, particularly how - if at all - we participate in God's work of bringing about justification. This book, which is cited below, inevitably crosses the issue of baptism. This is following a fascinating Formulary Friday post by Tom Woolford over on the Church Society Blog, which concerned a particular phrase in the Book of Common Prayer Baptismal Service:

"seeing now this child is regenerate"

There is much that can be said about the way that Anglican theology has been, and continues in certain quarters, to be shaped by both the over-arching theological themes found in the formularies, and the specific phraseology found that seems to run contrary to the grain of the whole. This conversation, however, is helpful as it allows a vital context for other conversations to take place.

It is in this vital context that I want to explore Calvin's Causal Schema offered contra to the Council of Trent,[1] wherein - leaning on an Aristotelian fourfold division of causality - he argues that the causation in play, concerning justification by faith alone by grace alone, should be understood as follows:

1. The Efficient Cause - The Mercy of God
2. The Meritorious Cause - Christ
3. The Instrumental Cause - Baptism ("the Sacrament of Faith")
4. The Formal Cause - The Righteousness of God (in that he makes us righteous) [2]

Elsewhere Calvin seems to drop baptism as the instrumental cause, focusing solely on faith, our faith, as the instrumental cause by which justification is brought about [3] yet, even there he argues that baptism is conductive to our faith in God. [4] So for Calvin, faith without baptism seems almost unthinkable.

This 'both/and' approach to baptism and faith finds itself expressed within the 39 articles

"Baptism is not only a sign of profession, and mark of difference, whereby Christian men are discerned from others that be not christened, but it is also a sign of Regeneration or New-Birth, whereby, as by an instrument, they that receive Baptism rightly are grafted into the Church; the promises of the forgiveness of sin, and of our adoption to be the sons of God by the Holy Ghost, are visibly signed and sealed, Faith is confirmed, and Grace increased by virtue of prayer unto God."[5]

Although the detailed work of presenting a fourfold causal schema is not undertaken here (and rightly not so, as I suspect a strict  aristotelianism cannot be found within the pages of scripture), and yet we see clearly this notion of instrumentality.

However, and here is the crux, "they that receive Baptism rightly".

We are not to infer that this is a point that appertains to the worthiness of the minister; rather I would contend those that receive baptism as a sign and seal of the grace which is given in the elect, are those who receive baptism rightly.

Evensong 31 July - Psalm 95

Introduction:

What is God like, and how should we respond?

Two big questions.

These are two very big questions for fifteen minutes on a Sunday evening.

Theologians, philosophers, thinkers, and I’m sure all of us have spent time asking these two questions.

So before we begin to look at the psalm in more detail, let us pray:

        Heavenly Father...

The psalms were written by people who spent their lives trying to answer these questions as best they could. Through them, and through their words, God offers us answers to the big questions like “what is God like, and how should we respond”. This psalm is no different, it answers the first question: “what is God like” by telling us ‘God is our sovereign Creator and he is our shepherd’. The second question: How should we respond? The psalm says ‘We should worship and listen to his voice’. And what does his voice tell us? It tells us not to harden our hearts and rebel against him, because if we do – we will not enter his rest.

God is Creator and shepherd; we should worship and listen; God tells us not to harden our hearts.

So, by way of an overview: you may have noticed that Psalm 95, is a psalm of two halves.

The first half (verses 1-7) is an exhortation, or an encouraging command to, worship. In this first section, God is the sovereign creator who has saved a people for himself. Although this refers back to the saving of the people of Israel from Egypt, it is no less true for us who have been saved from sin by the cross. It says also He is a shepherd to his flock, again, we understand that to mean he shepherds those who seek him by faith, the church.

The second half (verses 7-11) is God’s warning to us not to harden our hearts, not to make demands of him just because we are, outwardly, a part of the people of God.

Let’s take a few minutes to look at the detail.

First point (verses 1-7) – Praise and Worship

The psalm takes us on something of a ‘spiritual journey’, not unlike our service this evening. And it does so, beginning in verse one and two where the psalmist encourages us in our singing.

I’m pleased to say that I think you have all taken his command to heart, because I think we’ve all excelled in singing for joy to the LORD this evening. But, we aren’t gathered as a ‘singing club’, are we? Likewise, the psalmist doesn’t just tell us we should worship the LORD in song and thanksgiving, he tells us why we should. And, it is quite straight forward looking at verses 3-5:

 “for the LORD is the Great God, the great King above all gods”.

Now, are there other gods? Many people in the ancient world when this psalm was written simply accepted that there were. They knew that other nations worshipped multitudes – perhaps they were “real”? The psalmist doesn’t entertain the discussion. even if there were other gods, the LORD is the King over all. He is the great God. And so, it is not hard for us to see our modern gods in the same light – perhaps the most popular of these, money, or success, or anything that distracts us from a life of discipleship – a life following Jesus -  we have made into a god. We have worshipped it. We have committed idolatry. But, when we compare our little gods, money, success, anything, to the Great God the LORD we see that our gods are no gods at all. We should worship as a response when we recognise who God is, and what he is like.

The psalmist takes us on further – we have sung and given thanks (verses 1-2), we have been confronted with the greatness of God and our duty to respond to him in praise (verses 3-5) – now the psalmist calls us deeper into worship. We are to bow ourselves down, to kneel before him, but not out of fear. Rather, we are to do so as we recognise his care for us. Verse 7 tells us that we the Church (the Israel of God) are the flock under his care. God is frequently thought of as shepherd in the Bible – Perhaps most famously in Psalm 23 The Lord is my Shepherd, but also when Jesus calls himself the Good Shepherd in the gospels. God cares for us, and this is cause to praise, but also cause to listen to his voice. Jesus says not only that he is the Good Shepherd, but also that his sheep know his voice.

And so, finally in this first half of the psalm, the psalmist culminates in a plea for those who hear the psalm to listen to the voice, or the message of God. This is in the end of verse 7: “O that today you would listen to his voice!”.

Second Point (verses 7-11)– God’s Voice, God’s Warning

We have been called to hear the voice of God. And that is the purpose of a sermon or a Bible study, to hear God speak from the pages of scripture. And just in case we were in any doubt as to the content of God’s message, the second half of this psalm from verse 8, is a summary of what God has to say to us.  It can be thought of as a summary of the witness of the Old Testament. “Do not harden your hearts as at Meribah, as on the day at Massah in the wilderness”.

To be honest with you, I had to look these two places up! How often is it that we fail to understand the Bible fully because we simply haven’t spent enough time exploring the stories, looking at the people, the events, the places, and seeing how God has worked through all of them. To get to the bottom of this we need to find Exodus 17:7 – jot it down if you are taking notes, it is worth a look later  – a biblical concordance would have sent you there, or a good commentary on the text.

Reading from the start of the chapter, we hear of a quarrel that broke out among the Israelites and Moses. The people of God had recently been freed from slavery in Egypt by mighty miracles, and led away to safety, but they still demanded more. They demanded water by miraculous sign. They doubted God, and tested him. Even those they were visibly within the people of God, their hearts had not learned to trust God as their rock. And so, the place was called Massah which means testing, and Meribah which means contention. They had Moses strike a rock to produce water, which they thought would save them from thirst. But they were foolish and stubborn because the Lord is the rock of our salvation. We heard that in verse one, and as the ancient Israelites needed to be reminded, so do we. It is no different now, for the people of God, the Church. We might be visibly “in”, but we have failed to grow in trust and faith, because we have not yet learned to see who God is, and we have not yet listened to his voice.

Conclusion

Do we put God to the test? Are our hearts so hardened that we do not believe he rewards those who seek him by, as Hebrews 11:6 tells us in no uncertain terms. We must learn to trust the providence of God, his forward planning. We can trust him because we can know what he is like. We saw that in the first half of the psalm. He is the great God, who makes a people for himself to shepherd.  In the Old Testament he did this by at the exodus; in the New Testament we see him completing this work on the cross.  

He shepherds his people, and speaks to them by his word. And when he speaks to his people, he warns them. He warns them so that they might return to him. He warns them not to harden their hearts, and refuse to obey because in so doing they miss out on entering into his rest.

This is serious stuff, but we must not forget: The voice of God that calls to us from this psalm this is cause to rejoice. God wants us to turn to him in joy and worship, with humble hearts, so that we may enter into his rest. So come Let us shout aloud to the rock of our salvation  - Amen

 

 

A Homily for Justin Martyr: 1 Corinthians 1:18-25

Justin, who we remember today, was a prominent Christian apologist, living, working, and worshipping among the first few generations of Christians. Born at Flavia Neapolis, about A.D. 100, Justin converted to Christianity at around thirty years of age. He taught and defended the Christian religion in Asia Minor and at Rome, where he suffered martyrdom about the year 165. Of his theological work two "Apologies" bearing his name and his "Dialogue with the Jew Tryphon" have come down to us.

We have an account of Justin’s trail, which includes an exchange between Justin and the Roman prefect:

The Prefect Rusticus says: If you do not obey, [that is obey the command to sacrifice to pagan gods] you will be tortured without mercy.

Justin replies: “That is our desire, to be tortured for Our Lord, Jesus Christ, and so to be saved, for that will give us salvation and firm confidence at the more terrible universal tribunal of Our Lord and Saviour.”

          So, let us pray:

I am going to talk about Justin’s martyrdom as wisdom in the economy of God. For that, we will focus on a particular line from St Paul, found at verse 23 of our reading from Corinthians, (you may wish to have it in front of you): 'but we preach Christ Crucified'. But first, it serves to think a little about Paul’s letter and its value for us. I think there are three particular reasons we must sit up and take note:

First: this letter really was written to us in a particularly explicit way. If we look at the opening salutation, unlike most of Paul’s letters that were written to a place, or an individual, this was written to all Christians. That is in verse 2, if you want to check.

Secondly: this letter concerns, broadly, the Church as the Body of Christ. As we meet to read the scriptures, and to celebrate the Lord’s Supper, we meet as his Body, and so this letter speaks directly into our congregational life.

Thirdly: Paul deals with, in this letter particularly within this opening chapter, those who would fracture this Body – this is a concern of universal and eternal value, as we struggle today with various divisions.

Paul proposes an answer to this problem, however. He wants us to cling not to our pet theologians – even our favourite 16^th Century ones – and cling instead to the Cross of Christ, verse 23. This Cross, Paul says, is godly wisdom for those who are called, verse 24. But foolishness to those who are not of God, verse 18. Paul wants us to find our unity as a Body in the suffering body of Jesus.

"We preach Christ crucified."

I sometimes tell the story about a chapel, surrounded by ivy, which had that verse written above the door.

 

The ivy grew, and covered the words, and as it did so it mirrored what was going on in the chapel. So after a while the ivy grew and it said: "We preach Christ" – and Jesus was there in the preaching, they were Christocentric, but the New Testament's focus on the cross had been lost. And then after a while, it said, "We preach" – and there was a pulpit ministry, but increasingly moralistic and not much about Jesus. And then in the end it just said "We" – and they had become a social club.

I will be honest with you. This chapel does not exist.

I talk, of course, about the Church and her faithlessness to the message of the gospel: to preach Christ crucified. At one level, we shouldn't be surprised. The cross, to the unregenerate mind, is folly. It is loss. It is to be derided. Everything in the secular imagination cries out against the value of the cross of Christ.

Likewise, Justin's martyrdom is not to be valued in earthly terms. There is nothing good, or moral, about his death, or even any death. Had Justin lived, perhaps we would have had greater works of theology, much more to study.

But, no.

The world may make demands of us to conform to their pattern of wisdom; oftentimes the church will, too. Inevitably, part of our time here does just that. But we must not forget: Godly wisdom is the participation in the death of Christ. By his martyrdom, Justin became a teacher of this profound mystery.

 Amen.

 

Easter Day - A Homily: John 20:1-9

Introduction:

Good morning, Happy Easter, it is a great joy for me to be with you this morning, and to get the opportunity to open the Scriptures with you. I last preached here four weeks ago, and then we spoke about how time was short before Easter, and the need to prepare ourselves spiritually. I said that we needed soberly to take stock of our lives. Well, I have a confession, this morning. I have failed to do that. Frankly, I am not sure that it is even possible to prepare oneself, properly and adequately, for Easter. We will see in this morning’s reading that the disciples were not ready. The resurrection of Jesus took them by complete surprise. In the sermon we will also think about the wondrous “new creation” that flows from Jesus resurrection. And finally we will think about the challenge that faces the disciples, and faces us. The challenge to see and believe; that believing we might have life in his name.

So, let us pray:

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of your son Jesus Christ, Light of the World, and Word of God. Speak to us now that Word. Amen.

Homily:

St John begins this morning’s reading by telling us that it was “very early on the first day of the week, and still dark”. John is doing something clever here; he is weaving together ideas from other places in the Bible. He is trying to get us to think, to think about what the Bible has always taught, and what the Bible might be teaching now. We can see that light and darkness are such powerful themes throughout the Bible, particularly here in the Gospel of St John. At the beginning of his gospel, the part we often hear at Christmas, John calls Jesus the light of the world. He says that Jesus, the light of the world, came into the darkness. And that the darkness did not understand the light. And that is, very much, where this morning’s gospel passage begins. The darkness of human sin, the darkness of hate, greed, the darkness of broken relationship with each other and with God, has had its way. The Darkness of Sin has killed the Light of the World.
Darkness seems to have had its victory. And, whilst it was still dark, Mary Magdalene goes to visit the tomb.

She goes with a small group of other women. But John wants us to focus on Mary, on her story, as she comes to the fore to pass on the most important message in history. We cannot be entirely sure of her motivation for visiting the tomb so early. Perhaps she went to anoint the body; perhaps to weep; perhaps just to sit close to her lord. Whatever the reason, we find her there; in that garden of graves; in the dark; on that cold first day of the week.

The language of Darkness appears elsewhere in the bible, as does this focus on the day. Note how John tells us that it is the first day of the week. This is a small but important detail in the story, where John wants us to take note of the creative work of God. For him, resurrection parallels creation. So this passage harks back to the story in Genesis:

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, 2 the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. 3 Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light. 4 And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness. 5 God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night. And there was evening and there was morning, the first day.”

Unwittingly, Mary finds herself caught up in the “first day” of a new creation. Everything is being made new around her. But, she can’t yet see it. All she can see is the empty tomb, the darkness, the deep. She cannot yet feel that wind from God that is carving out day from night; and calling her and the world into the first day of the new creation; the first day of resurrection.

Mary, oblivious at this stage to the work of God going on around her, runs. In confusion, and sadness, she runs to get the other disciples; Peter and ‘the one whom Jesus loved’. She says to them:

‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb and we don’t know where they have put him.’ 

The two men hear this and, shaken, run to the tomb to investigate. The beloved disciple is first to arrive but it required Peter, true to form, to enter the sepulchre. He blusters in, and speechless, surveys the empty tomb. The beloved disciple follows. He sees the grave cloths (it must be getting light by this point) the bandages, strips of linen that had swaddled Jesus tightly as he lay dead in the tomb remaking the Sabbath rest, discarded.

This could be no grave robbery.

No overzealous gardener.

Something new was happening.

The Gospel tells us that “he saw and he believed. Till this moment they had failed to understand the teaching of scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” Things are beginning to make sense to the Beloved disciple. Jesus had said “Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” But the Bible tells us that time and again “they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it.”

You see, the disciples were not expecting this. No-one was expecting this. Everyone in the ancient world knew this one simple fact – the dead do not come back to life. Some, but by no means all, within the Jewish religion had developed an idea that in some future “age to come” after the end of earthly history it might be possible. But not now. Not here. Not like this. Not in the middle of history, in a borrowed grave, for a man who died a criminal’s death.

And yet, here it was, staring them in the face. Only now would could they see and believe. And so it stares us in the face, too. Will we take this chance to see and believe? The empty tomb, the reality of Jesus resurrection challenges us to take seriously the claims of the man who said “You shall love your neighbour as yourself.” But who also said: "Unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink His blood, you have no life in you".

The empty tomb that stands before us this morning speaks to us of the new creation that God is making; beginning in Jesus and overflowing to us; but, it also stands as a challenge to us. Will we dismiss the empty tomb and close our eyes to the resurrected Christ who calls us to live a different sort of life, a resurrection life now, trusting in him for eternity. Or will we hear that call, and by faith uproot ourselves and run with Peter and the beloved disciple to stand in awe before that empty tomb. Will we see and believe?

John, at the end of his Gospel says this: “these have been written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God; and that believing you may have life in His name.” Gaze with me, this morning, into the empty tomb. See, and believe, just as the disciples did all those years ago. Place your trust in him, I pray. The tomb is empty, and he stands poised to meet with you. Place your trust in him, and as we gather around the Table with expectant hearts, feed on him by faith, feed on him who is alive forevermore.

Amen.

Lent Three and The Barren Fig Tree - A Sermon

Third Sunday of Lent: Luke 13:1-9

Introduction:

Good morning, it is a pleasure and a privilege for me to come and speak with you this morning. For those who don’t know me, my name is Mark Broadway, and I’m a “Trainee Vicar” on placement here for the next few weeks.

This morning, I will be speaking mainly on the Gospel reading, and trying to get to the bottom of Jesus’ strong words. The Gospel reading causes us to think about sinfulness, and how Jesus himself is our only refuge. We will conclude by seeing how the scripture tells us about God’s faithfulness, and how patient he has been with us.

So let us pray:

Heavenly Father, we thank you for the gift of your Word to us – we pray that you would speak to us again through these scriptures, by your spirit, amen.

Before looking at the Gospel reading, and it would help me if you were to have it in front of you, I want to set the context of this sermon, by thinking a little about some news stories from this past week. Last Sunday, the Islamic State group, known as ISIS or ISIL, claimed responsibility for two particular bomb attacks; one in the Syrian capital Damascus and the other in the city of Homs, which together have left at least 140 people dead. Both of last Sunday's attacks targeted areas dominated by Islamic minorities, different Islamic denominations reviled by the Sunni Muslim radicals of IS.

Another news story this week concerns a clean-up operation that has been taking place this week in Fiji, after the most severe cyclone to hit the island in living memory killed at least 20 people. Aerial imagery showed some villages, particularly in outlying areas, were completely destroyed. One local man told Reuters news agency the damage was so extensive that "it looks like a different country".
How often it is that our newspapers are filled with such terrible reports?

Too often.

And just as often, we try to find some way of explaining away the tragedy, some way of keeping the reality of suffering at arms’ length from ourselves. We want to believe that we are separate, safe and secure. We want to believe that we have a refuge.

One of the ways that people have always tried to do this, to make themselves feel better in the face of great suffering is to blame the victims. Perhaps, I hope, very few people would try to say those civilians murdered by ISIS were guilty of something and “had it coming”. Or that God was using the cyclone to punish the people of Fiji for some sins. And yet, we do often hear these ideas, even in this country: In January 2014 a UKIP councillor, David Silvester, blamed that year’s storms and heavy floods across Britain on the Government's decision to legalise same sex marriage. Mr Silvester said the prime minister had acted "arrogantly against the Gospel", and that the legislation would result in "disaster".

I think we can be very quick to point a finger at those who are suffering, and blame it on some hidden sin. When we do this, we show clearly that we have taken refuge in our own good behaviour. And, ever has this been so. Our Gospel reading shows us both this instinct, and Jesus’ response. As with all of scripture, we can take today’s reading and use it to help build a lens, or way of seeing these sorts of events; Rightly understood they can become a call to attend to our own spiritual lives.

Today’s Gospel reading begins with people coming to Jesus with news of an act of political suppression against a group of Galileans. This was an event that took place in Jerusalem, a place to which the whole of Luke’s Gospel points. It is not clear from history what exact event this was, but it is thought to be just one example of the frequent religious uprisings, and vicious reprisals that characterised the time. In dealing with these events Jesus is dealing with the reality of the end that awaits him as he journeys through Luke’s Gospel to Jerusalem, we saw this in last week’s Gospel reading, which spoke of Herod wanting to Kill Jesus.

So, what does Jesus say when confronted with this news? Luke records for us Jesus’ words in verse two: ‘Do you suppose these Galileans who suffered like that were greater sinners than any other Galileans? They were not, I tell you.’ Jesus gives us no scope for finger-pointing, or for moral superiority. But rather, he takes the opportunity to force us to face up to our common shared, human sinfulness. He says in clear language: “Do you suppose these Galileans who suffered like that were greater sinners than any other Galileans? They were not, I tell you. No; but unless you repent you will all perish as they did.”

Luke, in writing these passages down for us is combating the incredibly popular theology that says ‘if you are good, you will be blessed; if you are bad you will be cursed’; this is a theology of works and law and bondage. The Christ proclaimed throughout Luke’s Gospel is a Christ who comes to set us free. Jesus tells us about a God who rewards us out of his own loving kindness, not because we have earned it. Jesus makes it clear for us that what happened to these men was not an example of punishment for any particular sin; rather they were examples of our common sinfulness, which is the desire to seek refuge in anything aside from the grace of God.

Jesus, taking the opportunity to turn this encounter into a teaching session, drives the message home by repeating this theme in a similar story. This time, in verse four, about some men who had built a tower which collapsed upon them; Again, history records little of this event for us, but it seems that it was a current local news story, into which Jesus spoke. Again we see that these men were not particularly sinful, but are examples of the sin we all share, the desire to seek refuge in anything other than the grace of God.


To summarise what Luke has recorded for us: Regarding the Galileans; they sought refuge in religious/political causes. And yet, they found none. As for the men of Siloam; they sought refuge in strength of arms, in human might. And yet, they found none. Christ makes it plain for us in this teaching, if we do not repent, that is to turn ourselves around, and think, and act, and love differently, we too will perish. Christ makes it clear in his life and teaching, throughout the gospels, that there is no refuge other than in the grace of God, and that grace, that gift, is Christ himself. Christ, the gift of God for us, who gave himself, who we receive as we gather as his faithful people around the Table.  Let me be clear in what this passage is saying to us: Our only refuge is in Christ.

Where is our refuge, this morning? Morality? Good works? Family? We can allow any one of these to become a phoney refuge, like the tower of Siloam that fell on those 18 men. Let me tell you this: In time, all these towers will fall upon us. There is but one rock and one refuge: Christ.
At this point in the Gospel passage, the teaching seems to take a sharp turn. Luke tells us that, here, Jesus moves on from this stark teaching into a parable. The parable of the fruitless fig tree, verse nine. By recording this sudden shift in teaching style, almost like a change of gear whilst driving, Luke allows the reading to take on a different feel.

Looking at the parable itself; Very often in the Bible the people of God are spoken about, prophetically, or in allegory, like a picture as a vine, or a vineyard, or a garden or a fig tree – and likewise here. The fig tree is, in a sense, the people of God. And the fruit that should have grown is living faith. The tree has shown itself to be useless, as with the religion of works and law and bondage, and so the time had come for it to be cut down, thrown away, and replaced. This is not an uncommon image throughout scripture.

Yet, here in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus adds a twist to this story – divine forbearance, God’s patience. Rather than ending with the rightful removal of the fig tree, the parable ends with a plea for more time.

Three years, I am told, is the right time to expect a harvest from a fig tree, if there has been no fruit after this time, perhaps it will never fruit? But God is patient; he holds back his judgement to give as much time as possible.

Likewise with us: We have shown ourselves slow to come to repentance. Even at times it might look like we would never produce spiritual fruit; but God is merciful, and he is waiting. He will not wait forever, but he will give us more time than we need. So we should rejoice in God’s patience, but not be slow to act. 

Time is indeed short, but the vinedresser is working the ground. He is preparing the tree, doing all that he can do – will it grow? Will we grow? Will we produce the fruit of repentance? Will we learn to place our trust in Christ our refuge?

We have four weeks remaining of Lent until Easter. In a sense time is short for us, too. Let me urge you, to join me, as I endeavour to examine my conscience seriously and soberly before God. So that when we gather on Easter morning, to receive him by faith in that sacrament, we can proclaim with our lips and also our repentant lives that Jesus Lives, and he alone is our refuge.

Amen.

Bartimaeus and the Son of David: A Homily

A couple of people asked whether my sermons are recorded, they are not, but I do stick fairly closely to my script, so what appears here is roughly what the congregation heard:

Sitting in poverty, beside that street two thousand years ago, Bartimaeus, though he is blind, sees a great and eternal truth. As word spreads through the town, gossip and speculation, observation and inference, with the arrival of this itinerant preacher and his band of disciples, Bartimaeus comes to realise the hope that he has in his heart. The faith he has that God will not leave him in his misery, the faith that he has that Messiah has come:

Let us Pray: Almighty and ever wise God, who through your son Jesus Christ have vindicated the Israel of God, the Church, open our ears and hearts to hear your words for us today, by the power of your Holy Spirit. Amen

As Jesus approaches where he rests, Bartimaeus makes a bold decision, he cries out in faith. Although it was perhaps opportunistic, or spur of the moment, the phrase that Blind Bartimaeus chooses to address Jesus, Son of David, was far from chance. It was a colloquial, popular expression that indicated that somebody was thought to be the Messiah, the Christ, the Anointed Servant of God. As we know from reading the Gospels each Sunday, year in year out, the Jewish people at the time of Jesus had developed a range of ideas about who they thought this Messiah, this saviour, would be and what he would be like. It is fair to say, however, that many of these ideas stemmed from the Jewish scriptures concerning David, the great king. 

In many respects the historic King David was revered, almost as a sort of mythic ‘once and future king’, held in popular imagination like our own king Arthur. It was from the line, or house, of David that the Messiah was to come. We hear this prophecy throughout the old testament. We find it especially in the books of the history of the kings of Israel and Judah, but also in the books of the Prophetswho so often challenged those Kings on behalf of God. We heard from Jeremiah earlier this morning, elsewhere in his book he says (32:4-5) "the LORD says: 'David will never fail to have a man to sit on the throne of the house of Israel...'". 

Bartimaus must have begun to connect these pieces of the Hebrew Scriptures, our Old Testament to the person of Jesus. From his use of this phrase, Son of David, we can tell that as far as he is concerned Jesus is the Messiah. Jesus has come to save and vindicate Israel - back to our OT Reading for a moment, and Jeremiah who gives us God’s words for Israel: "See, I will bring them back from the land of the North and gather them from the far ends of earth; all of them: the blind and the lame," We can't know for certain that Bartimaeus knew this particular scripture, but he clearly believed that God was in the business of restoring Israel, with perhaps a particular concern for the blind, or otherwise suffering. We are only, at this stage in the story of Jesus, beginning to scratch the surface of what it means for God to restore Israel.

Bartimaeus may well have expected Jesus, as the Messiah, to be a warrior king, who would free the Jewish people from the Roman oppressors, and establish a new Kingdom of Israel. David was such a warrior king; the Old Testament says he united the tribes of Israel, that he defeated their enemies, that he was a great king This is exactly the mould that they expected the messiah to fill, that they expected Jesus to fill. Many believed this about the Messiah, even some within Jesus’ own group of disciples. But even so, it is clear that Bartimaeus had a more nuanced, or more developed idea about the messiah. Not only must the messiah be a great king, he must also be merciful. Bartimaeus hoped that Jesus would be merciful to him. Jesus obliges, giving just a hint of the mercy that will come to represent his Messiah-ship. 

Jesus is so much more than a Warrior king, he achieves so much more than defeating Israel’s earthly enemies, the Romans. Jesus as messiah is to be God’s true king for Israel, and that means restoring, and vindicating. This can only be done by resolving Israel, and the world’s, biggest problem: enmity with God.  We discover in our NT reading discussion of Christ as High Priest, for Israel and indeed all people. This is God's vision for saving Israel, and the letter to the Hebrews continues: 

But when Christ had offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins, [he is himself that offering, that sacrifice] he sat down at the right hand of God, waiting from that time until his enemies should be made a footstool for his feet. 

Jesus is to die, offering himself upon the cross for the sins of the world before he sits down in the place of honour at the right hand of God. Jesus does sit, enthroned in heaven as King. He is king. But it is not as King that he achieves the work of saving God’s people – it is by offering himself as a sacrifice for our sins. And so, he truly becomes our messiah, our redeemer-king, when we enter into that salvation. We do not cross the Red Sea to enter into a geographical Israel, we pass through the waters of baptism to join the Israel of God, the Church, which is saved by the Sacrifice of Christ upon the cross, delivering us from sin and death. My plea for you this morning, is that you will draw near to Christ the messiah by faith, and enter into the mystery of his death as we partake of his body and blood crying out “‘Son of David, have pity on me.’

A Sermon For All Saints Sunday - on the occasion of a baptism.

Sermon For All Saints:

                              

Historically, All Saints was a “catch all” provision to ensure that no Heroes of The Faith have been missed, or forgotten in the church calendar. As the church grew, and grew, and grew in the first few hundred years after Christ this became more, and more of an issue, as the year became crowded to over flowing with days for Saints and Martyrs .  Even today, as Christian persecution continues to rage across the world, especially in Iraq and Syria at this time, the number of those deserving of honour, the number of those from whom we have so much to learn, is growing day by day. As we heard from Jesus in this morning’s Gospel reading –

10 “Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

11 “Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely[b] on my account. 12 Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

About 400 years after Christ, around 1600 years ago, when the calendar was already jam-packed, Pope Gelasius  the 1^st wrote of those “whose names are rightly reverenced among us, but whose actions are known only to God." There are dozens and dozens of Saints who now fit this category. Whose actions, and lives are lost, but whose images adorn our churches, in stained glass, painted relief, and folk tales.  But what about those whose names have been forgotten among us? What about those, who do not have mythic legends, stained glass windows, confraternities, and days in their honour?

Fortunately for us - being a saint is about none of these things.

Sainthood is about sharing in the life and activity of God. You can forget chiseled marble, polished brass, and plaster cast saints. Sainthood is about living in the strength, and power of God.  In the Incarnation, He (God) joined with our human life, so that we might join with his divine life – and that is what it means to be a saint, to participate in the life of God.

Participation in the life of God does not mean that we are expected to be perfect. We are not all expected to fulfill some great self-denying feat, such as those saints of old who took it upon themselves to flee to the wilderness, or those who suffer at the hands of militants in the world today. But we are to have perfection as our aim, our ambition, our end. Because we are animated, and brought to life by God who is perfection, as we seek after him.  The great self-denying feat to which we are called is to take up *our* cross – not St Peter’s, Not St Paul’s, Not St David or St George, St Teresa, or St Catherine – God is calling each one of you to participate in his life, to seek after him, and his kingdom.

Jesus says in verse six of the gospel passage: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled.” What is righteousness? A good place to start is Right Relationship – firstly with God, and then with our neighbours – so as we seek right relationship with God and Man, God gives to us his righteousness, his spirit, his Life. It is by God’s spirit that we can shine, as lights in t the world – because it is God’s spirit shines through us.

Christ begins to lay out for us what this new life might look like, what “sainthood” might look like, in the Gospel reading we heard today. Jesus gives us a pattern for life that reflects the new life that God has given us.

Blessed are the poor – theirs is the kingdom.

This simple set of verses has transformed the lives of countless millions, throughout the ages. All of whom have been swept up in the redeeming power of God’s action in the world. And it continues to do so now! Reading these verses we encounter, in plain and mundane letters on a commonplace page, the God who calls to us in the spirit, who longs for us to participate in his rebuilding of the cosmos.

Respond, I pray, to the God who came from very high, and lived among us. Not so that we could become famous, or preserved in statue form, or glass windows. But who came to change everything. Follow him, I pray, as he leads us. He will change our lives, as we follow him, through the waters of baptism, through our shared life, as we gather around his table.

Amen

The Wedding Feast of The King's Son - A Sermon.

Sermon on Matthew 22:1-14

This morning’s gospel reading was one of Jesus’ parables about the kingdom of heaven. Jesus uses these stories to draw a picture of how things are, and to show us how things should be. I’m sure many of us are familiar with these stories that he told, perhaps having grown up hearing them in Sunday school, and in children’s Bibles. The parables are so profound because they are stories about earthly things, yet they contain a profound, and challenging spiritual message.

I want to look at three surprises that jumped out at me from this passage of scripture, and I hope to make a little sense of the story.

This particular parable concerns a wedding feast; but not just any wedding feast, the wedding feast of the King’s son. I find it difficult to grasp the size, and splendour of such an event. The sort of thing that can draw a nation together, across age, and class boundaries. I wasn't born when Charles, the Prince of Wales, wed Lady Dianna Spencer at St Paul’s Cathedral in 1981, in fact, I wouldn't be born for another 6 years – Yes, I really am that young – but I am led to believe that 3,500 people filled the church, with two million spectators lining the route, waving flags, and cheering the young couple. 30 years later, we saw the wedding of Prince William, and Catherine Middleton – an even that has been viewed by 72 million people on YouTube. Huge public fascination was evident, regardless of our politics.

We would expect the picture of the Wedding Feast of the Kings Son,  that Jesus draws for us, to conjure up similar images. The wedding feast of the King’s son should have been a joyous event, and people should have been eager to come, but that isn't what we see in the parable.

We come to the first of three surprises in this short passage. We see the guests, turn down their invites, and refuse to come to the party. Verses four to six say:

⁴ Again he sent other servants, saying, ‘Tell those who are invited, Behold, I have made ready my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves are killed, and everything is ready; come to the marriage feast.’ ⁵ But they made light of it and went off, one to his farm, another to his business,⁶ while the rest seized his servants, treated them shamefully, and killed them. 

This is madness! 

Could we imagine people turning down invites to Kate & William’s wedding? No, of course not. And yet, it is the world Jesus saw around him. A world where the people had rejected God’s call to the banquet table; they had taken the meal that God had given them, the Passover, and changed it from a meal of release, into a meal of burden. And it is what we continue to do, even today. When God calls us, we all too often find something else, some other job of work, or pressing matter, crops up, and draws us away from the feast.

The next part of the story; the King’s vengeance, is striking – but surely it cannot strike us as a surprise? The anger is instinctive; and a very human way of explaining how, and why things keep going wrong, and falling apart, when we insist on doing things our own way. We need to be careful here – it is easy to find in this passage a vengeful god, far removed from the God of love and compassion who we find in Christ Jesus. We need to bear in mind that this is a story, to make a point. The historical reality of decline of the Jewish kingdom, the fall of the temple system, and the eventual exile from the holy land at the hands of the Romans is given voice here. But Jesus comes to offer a different way.

The second of my three surprises comes in the following verses:

 8 Then he said to his servants, ‘The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy.9 Go therefore to the thoroughfares, and invite to the marriage feast as many as you find.’10 And those servants went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both bad and good; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

What strikes me about this part of the passage is not that the King decided to invite some new guests. People from the highways and byeways – that makes sense – Of course the King would want to replace the guests, and make up numbers. What is incredible is that the servants gathered “all whom they found”(verse 10 ) “both good and bad”.

Surely not!

Surely God cannot be interested in the bad people?! This seems awkward. God’s servants show no distinction between good and bad people when handing out invites to the Great Wedding feast. And, the teaching is, that we are to go and do likewise. As we invite people into God’s kingdom, we are to do just that – invite People. We need a realisation, that when we deal with people, we deal with “people”. We each have good and bad mixed up within us, throughout our lives. We all have the same “image of God” buried within ourselves, and we are all called by God, to his wedding feast.

The final surprise I want to look at comes at the end of the passage

11 “But when the king came in to look at the guests, he saw there a man who had no wedding garment; 12 and he said to him, ‘Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding garment?’ And he was speechless. 13 Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot, and cast him into the outer darkness; there men will weep and gnash their teeth.’

Considering the welcome that was given to all and sundry it seems rather odd that something so bad should befall someone, simply as a result of a poor dress sense. But actually, there is something else going on here. Verse 10 tells us that people were gathered, and the hall was filled. There is no mention of people nipping home, or to Moss Bros to pick up something more suitable to wear. Again, the parable is using a physical sign to discuss a spiritual reality. No-one in this story has changed into “wedding gear”, Jesus is talking about what is going on beneath the surface.

We act this out, in a way, up here near the altar. These robes, symbolic of baptismal robes, become our wedding robes, ready for the great feast that we are to join with later as we celebrate communion together. These baptismal robes, white to symbolise purity, talk about the purity of Christ in which we clothe ourselves.

This is the culmination of the parable; that having welcomed all and sundry to the banquet, God clothes them in Christ. He clothes them in the innocence, and goodness of Christ. This man who lacks wedding clothes has infiltrated the party, he has become a member of the church, but has failed to put on the righteousness of Christ.

Scripture hammers this point home, again and again:

Romans 13:14 “But put on the Lord Jesus Christ and make no provision for the flesh”

Galatians 3:27 “for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.”

Colossians 3:12 “Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”

There are more! Look for yourself! Jesus is urging us to clothe ourselves in him, and in his nature.

And so, I say come! Come to the feast, we have bread, we have wine! Although we were strangers from God, he has given us fine robes to wear.

Amen.

Walking on Water - a Sermon

Readings:

1 Kings 19:9-18, &  Matthew 14:22-33

The picture of Jesus walking on the water is Iconic.

It is perhaps one of the most familiar images for us as Christians. It is also one of the few biblical narratives, or bible stories, that is still part of our culture, and known to people who don’t regularly come to church.

Perhaps it is the “otherness” of the story.

The fact that it is so unbelievable, so counter intuitive, and so contrary to the way we understand how the world works, that adds to the story’s popularity. This ‘fantastic’ element is found within all of the Nature Miracles, those miracles in which Jesus demonstrates His control over nature. Jesus walking on water; Jesus calming the storm; Jesus multiplying bread and fish to feed the multitudes. These events strike us as impossible, because they run so contrary to our experience of life, and our environment.

It would have been no less so for the disciples!

Sceptics often make the error of attributing these stories to the ignorance, or naiveté, of the apostles. The sceptic will say “these things can’t happen!” and assume therefore, that to have written about such things, the apostles simply must have misunderstood the laws of nature. 

Make no mistake here, although they did not understand the “mechanics” as we do, although they didn't have sophisticated scientific method to record their observation, they did know how the world worked. They did know what things could, and couldn't happen. If anything, I would say they had a greater understanding (if more basic) than we do, simply because they spent more time in nature.

These were fishermen; they knew people could not walk on water.

I'm not sure there is a people, or occupational group, in the world who would know this fact better than them. I'm certain that they knew more about the tides and waves than I will ever know. It would be preposterous to think, absolutely arrogant to think, that these people were confused by the event – somehow thinking people could walk on water.

We even know from the scripture itself that they couldn't believe it at first: Verse 26 says:

“And when the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were troubled, saying, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out for fear.”

A ghost. They thought it was a ghost. They thought a man walking on water would be so impossible, so unlikely, that their first thought was a ghost.  They knew men cannot walk on water. Further to this, after Jesus calls to them, calming them, they still do not think it can be – and they challenge him, verse 28:

“ And Peter answered Him and said, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.”

Jesus, in his compassion, complies.

He takes Peter with him onto the water, with the waves billowing around them, they walk. Peter had taken a huge leap of faith, taking those few steps from the boat – My mind wanders to the moon landing, and those famous words “one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind” –  This was indeed a huge leap for man, but unable to escape his surroundings, Peter cannot yet appreciate it.

You see, Peter cannot yet let go of his doubts, his fears, his presuppositions, his anxiety and he begins to doubt. Sinking into the water. Sinking into despair. Sinking into mistrust. Sinking. Jesus reaches out, grabs his arm, and helps him. Peter finally now begins to see him, to really see Him, for the first time.

There had been a lot of miracles so far, but nothing like this. Because men cannot walk on water. Peter is struggling for words to express his thoughts, his instincts, perhaps this frustration contributed to his doubts, his confusion. Because men cannot walk on water.

They climbed back into the boat; and everything had changed. Because men cannot walk on water. Peter knew that. And as he staggered, hands and knees, into the boat he remained face-down, his knees bent – I imagine his companions fell to theirs. Because, men do not walk on water.

I doubt at this point they understood, I doubt they knew for sure, I expect all they knew was that they had to do something – and there was only one thing that could be done -  they worshipped him.

Men do not walk on water. They knew this. And so everything had changed. The words came, I’m sure, after a moment of stunned silence that must have felt like eternity “Truly You are the Son of God.”

It must have been a mumble at first. You see, these words are no ordinary words; this was no ordinary act. On shore, back at home, these words could have cost them their life. Stoned to death for blasphemy. Talking about God in this way, talking about a man in this way. For most of the men on that boat, these words would cost them their life; even today, these words continue to cost men their lives, we think of Northern Iraq where ISIS have been committing the worst kinds of atrocities, filled with hate, and terrible anger. These words are important, they are, with no exaggeration, a matter of life and death; these words are a matter of Eternal life or Death. “Truly You are the Son of God.” We continue to use these words about Jesus, because, understand this: men do not walk on water.

What does this mean, and what are the apostles saying?

There is much conjecture among fans of Dan Brown, author of the DaVinci code, at what point the church started calling Jesus God, whether it was when the Nicene Creed was written, or when the church fixed the bible… these conversations make me laugh. It is there as clear as day, before your very eyes in the text, men do not walk on water.

Jesus is God.

There, I said it.

God revealed himself to the apostles there, on that stormy sea; on that windy night. God showed them His Face; and the face of God, the immortal one, the ancient of days, the all-powerful, and unchangeable God of all creation looked upon them with Jesus’ eyes of compassion, and the voice that commanded all of creation into being spoke to them saying “why did you doubt?”.

“why did you doubt”.

This isn’t a phrase that calls condemnation down upon the apostles as they knelt there, mouths ajar in awe. It was a phrase that stirred them, lifted them, and encouraged them to put their trust in Him, the Son of God.

God revealed Himself to the aspostles that day, just as he had done to Elijah 900 years before.

The stories resonate with a striking similarity: Verse 11 from the reading from Kings:

Then He said, “Go out, and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind;
 and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; 12 and after the earthquake a fire,but the Lord was not in the fire; and
after the fire a still small voice.13 So it was, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. Suddenly a voice came to him, and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

First there is the wind, the storm, the raging nature – Elijah’s story tells us of the wind so strong it broke the rocks; our gospel reading tells us the wind lashed up billowing waves,  that tossed the boat to and fro.

God doesn’t choose to reveal himself through the storm

Then comes the fear; earthquake and fire in the Old Testament reading, fire that is unpredictable, and conjures up thoughts of the supernatural; the New Testament reading has a spoken fear “a ghost!” they cry, fearful of the dangerous and unpredictable spirit world.

God doesn’t chose to reveal himself through the fear.

Finally, verse 12 from Elijah’s story said there was a “still small voice” calling to the prophet; the same voice called from the lips of Jesus to the disciples that night on the sea. That voice still calls to us today.

Amen