Please see below for some sermons preached at St Barnabas and our partner church, St Saviour's:

House of Rainbow
3rd February 2012 - Union of love

God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.

Now as you know I am a Church of England priest and I always so much enjoy, walking up the aisle in front of the bride, waiting for her to stand next to the groom, the entrance music stopping and then proclaiming: God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.

For those words from 1 John 4.16 are normally read as the first words at the beginning of a Church of England marriage service. And the reading 1 Corinthians 13 is often read too – why? Marriage is, to quote our theme today, a “union of love”.

I shall return to these words of scripture later but before I want to share a little story with you from a film I watched recently, the film Of Gods and Men. Of Gods and Men is the story of a group of Christian monks living in Algeria in the 1990s. These monks are living among the Muslim population of a remote village and are an important part of village life. One of them is the village doctor and the locals approach him for all sorts of advice. In one scene a young Muslim woman sits alone with the old Christian monk and asks him, ‘How do you know when you are in love?’ There is silence for a while and the film-watcher is led to wonder, “How will he know what to say to her?” He then says in a very matter of fact way, “There’s something inside you that comes alive. The presence of somebody is irrepressible and makes your heart beat faster, usually. It’s an attraction, a desire. It’s very beautiful. No use asking too many questions. It just happens. Things are as usual, then suddenly, happiness arrives or the hope of it. But you’re in turmoil. Great turmoil. Especially the first time.” There follows a conversation about a boy the girl’s father wants her to marry, someone she has no such feelings for. Then there is some more silence. Perhaps the girl, like the viewer, is thinking “how does he know all this?” and then she asks the monk, “Ever been in love?” to which he replies, “Several times, yes. After then I encountered another love, even greater. And I answered that love. It’s been a while now. Over sixty years.”

It is a beautiful scene and I would like to draw three things from it for our reflection this evening.

First, being in love, as the monk says, “is very beautiful?” Let me ask you, “Ever been in love?” Then you know what the monk is talking about. Your heart beats faster. But you’re in turmoil! Well, you know what it is like. And all the evidence I have come across is that it is no different if a man loves a woman, or a woman loves a man, or a man loves a man, or a woman loves a woman – falling in love is falling in love – it’s turmoil, but it is very beautiful! Maybe you know W H Auden’s poem in which a small boy asks, “O, tell me the truth about love”:

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O, tell me the truth about love.

Or his other poem, popularized in the film Four weddings and a Funeral, talking of the end of a relationship:

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

Being in love turns your life upside down and to experience the pain of a loving relationship coming to an end can feel like the end itself. And then there is love tested over many years of faithful relationship, with highs and lows, but all the time developing a love that is stronger and deeper. This is the kind of love we hear about in 1 Corinthians 13 – love that is patient, that is kind, that does not envy, does not boast, is not rude, is not self-seeking, which is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs, does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth – again, a description of a love that is very beautiful! Whatever and whoever falls in love, being in love is very beautiful. That is my first point.

And my second point is this: again, to quote the monk, “I encountered another love, even greater”. What was that love, that love that he answered? It was God’s call on him to totally dedicate his life to God. Now there is no greater love than the God’s love, no love greater than the love of God! Let me quote another poet and his poem, ‘For the Love of God’: ‘to love is not an option, actual understanding is a blessing of love…. Love at all cost, love is love, love eternal, not an option!’ And in a note to the poem’s title, the author of the poem writes, ‘There is a greater need to love one another, for love is of God. The anointing to love was manifested long before the beginning of the recorded beginnings.’ Beautiful words from a beautiful poet – oh, the poet by the way is Rowland Jide Macaulay. Let us be serious, those words in the note are very profound: “The anointing to love was manifested long before the beginning of the recorded beginnings.” Why is that true? Because God is love! The attribute of love is so tied up with the character of God that we do not say God is part love or God has a sense of love, no, God is love! And here is something important for us to remember – when God creates us, he creates us in his image: human love flows from the love of God; humans love, because God loves. Why is love so basic to who we are? Why can we not live without love? Why does love overtake, overwhelm, overcome us? Because God makes us to love. God is love and we are made to love. Love is the thing more important than any other thing. This greater love, the love of God, is the greatest thing there is. As St Paul says, ‘without love - what am I? - I am like a resounding gong or a clanging bell’: just a load of noise. Love shapes who we are. It makes us who we are. Without love - what does Paul say? - without love, I am NOTHING! And - love does not fail. Are their prophecies? They will cease. Are there tongues? They will be stilled. Is there knowledge? It will pass away! But love? It will never cease. It will never be stilled. It will never pass away. For three things last forever: faith, hope and love and the greatest of these is LOVE! That is my second point, that there is nothing greater than the love of God.

So what of my third point? We have considered that being in love is very beautiful; we have considered that there is nothing greater than the love of God. Let me draw out a third point from the story of the girl and the monk - and my point, is about the union of love. That film, Of Gods and Men takes an interesting turn when a group of militant Islamicists begin to kill all non-Muslims living in the country. This is a true story. Those monks really lived in North Africa in the 1990s and their lives were in serious danger. The film shows the fear of the monks when they realize they might be killed. It shows some thinking they want to leave but then how all the monks decide to stay. They cannot leave the people they love; their service to the people of the village, their presence among them is their calling. Their response to the greater love of God, leads them to loving service of their fellow villages; they cannot leave them. To turn back on them would be to turn away from those the God of love has called them to love. So we can see that their love of God is not in opposition to their love of people, it is in union, it is a union of love. It is a true story that those monks were killed by militant Islamicists. They became martyrs. They were killed for their faith, for their love of God. I urge you to watch the film. It is an inspiring story of faith. But it is important to remember this. We are not all called to be monks. We are not all called to be martyrs. Monks and nuns are a sign in the world of faithfulness to God – they are a sign for those who are not monks and nuns to live faithfully. They show us in a concentrated way what is possible in our everyday lives. And one of the things they show us that is that love of God is not in conflict with human love, it is in union, it is a union of love. Love is good; love flows from God. Ok, relationships can be destructive but true love, like that described in 1 Corinthians 13 is what God’s love is like. That love cannot be wrong. It cannot be against God to know that experience of being in love with another; it is in union with God. There is a lot of talk in the media currently about gay marriage with some saying it cannot be like straight marriage. How can it be otherwise? Love is love; there is no distinction. Love is not prejudiced! How sad that Archbishop Sentamu has said otherwise, but how wonderful that over 100 Church of England from the Diocese of London have signed that petition calling for civil partnerships within Church of England churches! They give me hope, for they know that whatever kind of love we are talking about, love cannot be in conflict with God but is in union. Our love for our lovers is a union of love with our love of God! I look forward to that day when I can stand in front or a couple, whether male and female, male and male or female and female, and proclaim at the start of a wedding ceremony:

God is love, and those who live in love live in God, and God lives in them.

End

St Saviour’s + Barnabas, Walthamstow
22nd January 2012

The Joy of Jesus/Wedding at Cana

The story is told of a pious old man who prayed five times a day while his business partner never set foot in church. On his 80th birthday the pious old man prayed thus:

“Oh Lord our God! Since my youth, not a day have I allowed to pass without coming to church in the morning and praying my prayers at four other times throughout the day. Not a single move, not one decision, important or trifling, did I make without first invoking your name. And now, in my old age, I have doubled my exercises of piety and pray to you ceaselessly, night and day. Yet here I am, poor as a church mouse. But look at my business partner. He is always out enjoying himself, drinking, attending parties, doing things I would never do, and yet he’s rolling in wealth. I wonder if a single prayer has ever crossed his lips. Now Lord, I do not ask that he should be punished for that would be unchristian. But please tell me. Why, why, why have you allowed him to prosper and why do you treat me like this?”

“Because,” God said in reply, “you are such a monumental bore!”

That story is told not so much to condone thus who live a godless, enjoyable life but to call into question those whose faith is lacking in joy. We are now in the second week of epiphany, a season when we continue to celebrate the gift God gave to the world in his son Jesus. As one famous song puts it “Joy to the world, the Lord is come, let earth and heaven rejoice!”

Our gospel reading tells the story of the Wedding at Cana. The reason for hearing this story within the season of epiphany is because like the two other stories of epiphany - the Visit of the Kings and the Baptism of Jesus - the wedding at Cana tells us something about who Jesus is, about what kind of gift God has given the world at Christmas. The wedding is the scene of Jesus’ first miracle - the first indication that Jesus is not only king, not only a prophet, not only the Son of God, but God himself. Later Jesus will do things as dramatic as healing the sick, giving sight to the blind, calming storms, raising the dead, but even the more basic miracle at Cana, the miracle of changing water into wine is a sign that Jesus is God himself.

And yet the wedding at Cana reveals something else about Jesus, something that is easily brushed over with all the excitement of the miracle he performs. Yes, the miracle at the wedding reveals something about the divinity of Jesus, but Jesus’ mere presence at the wedding reveals something else, something about the humanity of Jesus. The word is made flesh at Christmas, God becomes human, and here at this wedding feast we are given an indication of what divine humanity looks like. This is not the only place in the gospels where we see Jesus enjoying himself, enjoying the company of others, enjoying food, enjoying wine. But the image of Jesus as a guest at wedding is a special one.

A first century Jewish wedding was a real joyous occasion, it was indeed a feast. We can imagine the guests laughing, singing, dancing, eating plenty of food, drinking plenty of wine. We know they drank plenty of wine at the wedding in Cana as the wine ran out. And where was Jesus amongst all this? At the clergy’s area study day recently the Bishop of Barking told how the wedding at Cana is his favourite story in the gospels. He also told of a meditation someone once conducted in which people were asked to imagine themselves at the wedding of Cana and then to imagine where Jesus was at the feast. One participant explained afterwards how he had pictured Jesus sitting in a corner with a frown, disapproving of every one else enjoying themselves.

But the scripture indicates that Jesus was enjoying himself at the wedding. He was a guest at this feast. He was there with his mother and disciples. And what is his response when the booze runs dry? At first a reluctance to use his power, a feeling that the time is not yet right, but then - a change of heart?, an abundance of generosity? perhaps the realisation that this was indeed a golden opportunity for his first miracle? - whatever the reason, Jesus’ response is to turn water into wine, not just a couple of bottles either, but six stone water jugs normally used for ritual washing - we know they were large jars, we know that was a lot of wine! And it wasn’t cheap stuff either, but good quality wine - wine that prompts the man in charge of the feast to confront the bridegroom about why he has left the best wine until last. Jesus made sure that the party was going to continue and no doubt get better for a good few hours more.

What makes the wedding at Cana so special is not only that it reveals the divinity of Jesus but that it reveals Jesus as a full human being, a human being who enjoyed himself, enjoyed the company of others, enjoyed the pleasures of life. This is the Jesus whose example we follow, not a bore but someone who was fun to be with. There’s a double edged challenge for us here - for we know that many of the things the world deems pleasurable can take us away from God, but we also know that if we show no joy in our lives then we will not convince others that Jesus really did bring joy to the world.
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In the principles of the Anglican Society of St Francis, the rule book of Franciscan brothers and sisters, joy is given as one of the three notes of the order and members of that order will regularly read the following words. They are words for those who commit their lives to the order but words that stand as good advice to anyone who commits his or her life to following our Lord:

“Brothers and sisters, rejoicing in the Lord always, must show forth in their lives the grace and beauty of divine joy. They must remember that they follow the Son of Man, who came eating and drinking, who loves the birds and the flowers, who blessed little children, who was the friend of publicans and sinners, who sat at the tables alike of the rich and the poor. They will. therefore, put aside all gloom and moroseness, all undue aloofness from the common interests of people and delight in laughter and good fellowship. They will rejoice in God’s world and all its beauty and its living creatures, calling nothing common or unclean. They will mingle freely with all kinds of people, seeking to banish sorrow and to bring good cheer into other lives. They will carry with them an inner secret of happiness and peace which all will feel, even if they may not know its source.”

Steven Saxby

St Saviour’s + Barnabas, Walthamstow
8th January 2012

God of new beginnings


This book normally sits on one of my bookshelves at home. It was written by Roger Sainsbury who used to be the Bishop of Barking and, as far as I am aware, it is the only book he authored. I have read it but I can’t remember too much of what it says. It is a slim book, a simply produced paperback and not very well known. But this this little book has a big impact on me because of its title, “God of New Beginnings”. That title often leaps out at me from the bookshelf, “God of New Beginnings” and I invite you to reflect with me on that title this morning.

God of New Beginnings – I suggest this is a great message for us to hear on this of the Feast of the Baptism of Christ. Our gospel reading this morning reminds us of that story of Jesus being baptised by John in the River Jordan. It’s a curious event. John is calling people to be baptised so that they may repent of their sins and turn again to God. Repent literally means turn around and it is good to remember that. To sin is to turn our back on God to choose other ways instead of his ways. So to repent is to turn around, to turn our backs on other ways and turn our faces back to God’s ways. But Jesus is without sin. He is described as one tempted as we are yet without sin. So what does it mean for Jesus to be baptised? What new beginning is represented by Jesus’ baptism? Let me return to this in a moment.

God of New Beginnings – I suggest this is a great message for us to hear in this season of Epiphany. The Epiphany is not just the visit of the magi to see the baby Jesus. What they see in that visit is what Jesus is – king of kings, son of God, God himself born among us. And what this whole season of Epiphany is about is the manifestation – for Epiphany means manifestation – the manifestation of Jesus’s identity, the unveiling, the revealing of who Jesus is. In the visit of the magi, in his baptism, in his calling of the disciples, in his first miracle at the wedding of Cana, all events we recall in these weeks of Epiphany, we see who Jesus really is – he is king of kings, he is the son of God, but supremely he is God himself, made manifest in human flesh. Jesus is not half human/half God, not 50/50, he is not God appearing to be human, he is fully human and fully divine. And that is why Jesus’ baptism represents a new beginning. God in Jesus, though without sin, knows all the emotions associated with human sin. He knows what it is to be tempted, he know what it is to feel abandoned by God, he knows the fear of being cut off from God, the coldness of turning one’s back to God’s ways, and in his baptism, Jesus fully identifies with all that we experience when we receive that fresh anointing of God’s spirit, when we turn to him again, when we realise again the depths of God’s love for us. There is nothing we can do to separate us from the love of God. Jesus’ baptism declares that new beginning, in rising from the waters of his own baptism, Jesus rises as we rise every time we experience God’s loving forgiveness towards us, and what God says of Jesus, he says of us all, ‘This is my child, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased’.

God of New Beginnings – I have read this book is there is a great little story in it where Roger Sainsbury recalls his days as a priest in Canning Town. An angry publican whose wife had just left him approached the priest. He showed him the writ from the solicitors setting out the reasons his wife was seeking divorce: physical assault, smashing up the furniture, non-payment of bills, etc. He then said, “I don’t know what they are talking about, I have never done anything wrong in my life.” The priest thought there was no use asking him to repent there and then for his wrongs so he scribbled on a piece of paper, “if we confess our sins… he will forgive”. The publican screwed up the paper, muttering something about religious rubbish, but he then started attending the church and one day, took out the paper, showed it to the priest and said, “I believe it, I have confessed and I feel forgiven”. You can imagine God saying, “This is my child, the beloved, in you I am well pleased.” Well chuffed!

God of New Beginnings – what God offered the publican, he offers every one of us. We may sometimes be like him, feeling we have done nothing wrong. We are all capable of self-deception, of hiding from ourselves, things about ourselves we would rather not see. But none of us is perfect, none of us is without sin. We cannot avoid, living in this world, being pulled away from God, being pulled in the other direction, turning our face away from him. That is why we repent of our sins at the beginning of every mass, we need to turn again to him again as we prepare to meet him in Word and Sacrament. And then some of us may have the opposite tendency of feeling at times that we are so unworthy of God, that we have sinned so badly, that we are afraid to turn back to him, afraid to look into his face, to see there the truth that he sees, the truth about the wrongs we have committed. “Lord, I am not worthy” we may cry – but God is a God of New Beginnings – he offers us every day, the opportunity to turn back to him, to receive his loving mercy. We are not worthy, but God loves us and forgives us. He loves us before we repent and therefore we can be confident of his forgiveness. That is why we can say, “Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed.” That is why we have the audacity to turn back to God, not because we deserve it, but because he wants it, he wills it.

God of New Beginnings – this is a great message for the New Year. I am sure I am not the only one here who has in mind new resolutions, new plans and aspirations for 2012. But the message that God is a God of new Beginnings is not just one for us to begin with at the start of a new year. It is one for us to begin with every day of our lives. God offers us his forgiveness every day, there is nothing we can do to separate us from the love of God. He invites us every day to be restored to him, to rise as Jesus rose from the waters of repentance so that God may utter those words, “This is my child, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased”.

End

St Saviour’s + Barnabas, Walthamstow
25th September 2011

Choices

What do you choose? That is the question I invite you to ponder with me this morning. What do you choose?

We are all familiar with making choices aren’t we? I expect no day goes by without us having to make some kind of choice, of having to choose one thing over the other. Every morning I face a very important choice when I enter the kitchen for breakfast – “do I choose toast or cereal?” We make all sorts of choices throughout each day. I guess many of us have been presented with a selection box of delicious chocolates and have uttered the words “choices, choices”. Maybe it doesn’t matter very much what we choose for breakfast, which chocolate we choose or whether we choose to watch X Factor or Strictly, but some choices matter – sometimes our whole future hangs on a choice; some choices are life changing. What do you choose? What life changing decisions have you made?

There is a radio programme called The Choice. Each week someone is interviewed about a life-changing decision they made at some point in their lives. Examples of past interviews have been with a soldier who went absent without leave, with a woman who donated a kidney to a stranger, with a gypsy boy who ran away from his family. None of these were easy choices. The last, Mike Walsh, has written a book about his choice called Gypsy Boy, one of the books I read by the pool when I was on holiday. In it he describes his love for his family but his need to get away from some family members for his own protection. He knew leaving his community would hurt others but that staying would hurt him. He chose to run away. He made a life-changing choice.

Today’s gospel reading gives us the story of a choice made by two brothers. Jesus tells the story of a father asking his two sons to do something for him. One says he will not do it but then goes away and does it; the other says he will do it but then goes away and doesn’t do it. Jesus then asks his hearers the question, “Which of the two did the will of his father?” And they reply? “the first.” Both made a choice. The second chose not to do what he said he would do; the first chose to do what he said he wouldn’t do. Jesus point is that the first one saw the need to repent of his actions. He had done wrong in refusing to agree to do what his father asked him. He recognised his failing and he then did the deed he had been asked to do. He is a good example of the saying. “Actions speak louder than words”. But it is more than that, it is an example of someone making a choice to turn from a wrong decision and make a right decision.

Let me share with you a choice I made recently. Not so very long ago, I had a meeting here with some of my clergy colleagues within the Deanery. After the meeting one of my colleagues said something to which I took offence. I objected to the comments but my colleague repeated them. I believe I was right to take offence at the remarks. They were repeated again and then something else happened: I lost my temper. For a week or so I reflected on this experience. I do not like the feeling of not being at peace with someone. I asked myself if I should apologise. No, I said – the other person was in the wrong. I was still uneasy. I asked a couple of other people, “Should I apologise?” “No”, they said, “That person should apologise to you!” I was still uneasy. What happened next is that I laid the issue before God in my prayers. A little while afterwards, I wrote to my colleague and apologised for losing my temper. When we next met, we were restored to our normal relationship and I felt liberated from the burden I had felt previously. This may not strike you as a life changing experience but in a way it was. For to live with the burden of broken relationships is not to live as God intends us to live. To live with broken relationships is not the way of life that God invites us to choose and which God himself chose by choosing to offer his own life for us on the cross. He died so that sin would be defeated, so that broken relationships could be restored, so that we can be set free from the burdens of sin.

Ezekiel puts the issue plainly to the Israelites in our first reading today. Each and every person has a choice. It is not true, as the saying he mentions goes, that ‘The Fathers have eaten sour grapes and the children’s teeth are set on edge’, i.e. that children inherit their parents’ sin. No, every soul belongs to God and every person can turn to him individually, free from the burdens of the past and be restored to new life with God. Ezekiel makes it plain that every person faces a choice, to choose sin and die or to choose repentance and live – “turn from your wickedness and live he says”. Paul in the reading we heard from Philippians also talks about making choices. We can choose to serve our own interests or we can choose to look to the interests of others. And encouragingly, Paul says that it is not only we who make this choice, but that God is at work in us, helping us, encouraging us to choose what is pleasing to God. “God is at work in you,” he says, “both to will and to work for his good pleasure”.

That is my experience that God does these things; that I make choices, like my choice to apologise to my colleague, that are willed by God, that are against my own selfish interest and are for his good pleasure. I trust that many of you here have experienced that too. When we lay things before God he gives us solutions we would not have imagined for ourselves but which work for his good pleasure. What to you choose? Or rather, should I say, “Who do you choose?” for choosing to follow God’s ways is really choosing to pattern our lives after the life of Jesus Christ. He shows us the way by the way he lived his life. I love the way this is expressed in gospel song, “I’ve decided to make Jesus my choice”. ‘Some folk would rather have houses and land; some folk choose silver and gold. These things they treasure and forget about their soul. I’ve decided to make Jesus my choice. The road is rough, the going gets tough and the hills are hard to climb. I’ve started out, a long time ago, there’s no doubt in my mind. I’ve decided to make Jesus my choice.”

Today the family of Dean/Nicole are bringing him/her for baptism. They have made a choice. They may not be clear in their own minds about why they have chosen baptism. I trust that God has been at work in them to bring Dean/Nicole to this day. But they are making a choice. They are choosing to give their child a new life! To commit their child to living by the ways of God, to reject all that leads to death and by choosing that which leads to life – new life in Christ! And they are choosing Jesus, choosing for their child to live a life patterned after that of Jesus, not least a life marked by the qualities of repentance, love and peace. They have decided to make Jesus their choice for their child.

This baptism today is a great reminder to all of us of the choices we are faced with every day, the everyday life-changing choices to pattern our lives after the life of Christ. So I hope we will leave her today more clear about the answers to those questions. What do you choose? I choose life! Who do you choose? I have decided to make Jesus my choice!

End

Sunday 31st July 2011
St Saviour’s + St Barnabas, Walthamstow,
Matt 14: 13-21

"As he went ashore he saw a great throng; and he had compassion on them, and healed their sick.”

It must have been a pretty overwhelming experience for Jesus. Matthew’s gospel tells us how Jesus was constantly being approached by people of every kind of disease and sickness. If we go back a few chapters in Matthew, we find that Jesus - in a very short period of time - is approached by all sorts of suffering people. First, a leper; then a centurion, asking Jesus to heal his paralysed servant; then Peter's mother, in bed with a fever; two demoniacs confront Jesus; another paralysed man is brought to him; a synagogue leader asks Jesus to come to his daughter who's just died; a woman with haemorrhages touches Jesus; two blind men come to him; then another demoniac and so on. All the time Jesus heals those in need as news about his powers spreads throughout the district and we learn that Jesus is confronted with crowds of people of every disease and every sickness. He must have been overwhelmed. It’s not surprising then that Jesus tries to get away. We read in today’s passage that he withdrew in a boat to a lonely place. But when the crowds heard it, they followed him such that when he got off the boat, arriving at the place where he had hoped to find some peace, he saw before him a great throng of people. Later we are told that there were over five thousand people present, that is five thousand men plus women and children: an overwhelming experience.

And it can be pretty overwhelming for us. So often we are presented, as we go about our daily lives, with those in need. We may visit a friend who’s having a bad time, pass by a homeless person in the street, receive a call that a relative is in hospital, sit down at the end of an exhausting day to be presented on the news with so many stories of suffering in this country and around the world – the suffering in the Horn of Africa, the massacre in Norway, continuing violence in Afghanistan, stabbings and shootings in our own Borough here in Waltham Forest. There is so much suffering around us and within our world, that we too can be easily overwhelmed. Indeed we so see many images on our screens of people in need and receive so many requests for help that I'm sure we all, at times, do feel overwhelmed by so much suffering and, if we're honest, sometimes shut our ears and eyes to those who cry out for help. Jesus’ compassion seems endless. When he gets off the boat and see thousands of people, his response is not to get back in and try to find another lonely place; rather we learn that he had compassion on the crown and healed their sick. Jesus’ compassion seems endless we often suffer from what is sometimes called "compassion fatigue", we switch off, overwhelmed by so much suffering.

What encouragement then can we take from today’s gospel reading, from the example of Jesus’ compassion and from his response to the great crowd having nothing to eat, namely his feeding of the five thousand?

Well, there are two things that stand out for me from the gospel reading today.

The first is that, with God, a little can go a long way. The story of Jesus feeding the five thousand plus people is found in all four gospel accounts, Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. In each account we have the information that Jesus fed the crowd with five loaves and two fish. Now, I was taught that food shared goes further but it is obvious that five loaves and two fish will not go far among over five thousand people. Jesus performs a miracle in multiplying the five loaves and two fish so that there was not only enough but twelve baskets left over! Jesus is God in human form remember. God has made the heavens and earth out of nothing, he had fed the Israelites in the desert with bread from heaven, so to multiply five loaves and two fish for over five thousand people is pretty easy in comparison. But in this case, Jesus does not create the food from nothing; he creates it from the five loaves and two fish. In John’s gospel, we are told that it was a boy who offered his five loaves and two fish and I love the faith of that boy. Here is a child who offers his small offering of five loaves and two fish in the faith that Jesus can do something with it to feed the crowd. Rather than be overwhelmed by the task, rather than take his own food away to eat privately, the boy has faith that Jesus can make something of it, can put it to good use to respond to the overwhelming needs in front of them. And I suggest that is one thing we can take from today’s gospel reading, that just as a little food was used to do great things, so whatever response we can make, whatever small deed of kindness we can do in response to suffering, is a contribution worth making, is a little response from us, but one God can use for great things.

And the second thing I take from today’s gospel is that the response we make with God in response to suffering is not one we make alone. The story of Jesus feeding the five thousand plus has parallels with other parts of the Bible. We can see in one way that it looks back to the experience of the Israelites in the desert, when they were fed with manna from heaven. In that sense it speaks of the benefits of us trusting that God will provide for those in need. But the miracle of the five thousand plus also points forward to another part of scripture. Note what Jesus does with the five loaves and two fish. We are told that he took the loaves and fish, looked up to heaven, blessed and broke the loaves, then gave them to the disciples to share with the crowds. Taking, blessing, breaking, giving – these are the actions, are they not, of Jesus at the last supper, at the first Eucharist. These are the actions that form the structure of the meal the church is to repeat every time in meets in memory of Jesus, the actions we repeat here every week when we share in the Eucharist together. In other words, Jesus encourages the response to suffering to be the response of the church. On our own, our response to suffering seems overwhelming, our ability to make a difference so insignificant, but as part of the church, as part of that body of people throughout the world who work together and stand together in response to suffering our impact can be great indeed.


My parish where I was born in Plaistow was, a few years ago, renamed the Parish of the Divine Compassion and it celebrates its patronal feast when others remember the feast of the sacred heart of Jesus. What better image for a parish named the Divine Compassion than the image of Jesus' own heart, a heart that never ceases to feel compassion? As we seek to respond to suffering in our lives, our communities, our world, let us remember that however small our response it is significant and that as the church we can make a difference, that we can truly emulate the sacred heart of Jesus as we respond in compassion to the needs we encounter.


Steven Saxby, July 2011
17th July 2011, 11am

St Saviour (9am) St Barnabas (11am), 17th July 2011, 11am
Weeds – Matthew 13


In our gospel reading today, Jesus shares the parable of the weeds, then goes on to explain its meaning to his disciples. I invite you this morning to reflect with me on the meaning of that parable for us. To help us, I am going to share something about my own ministry as an Anglican priest and some suggestions for our ministry together as the Church of England in this part of Walthamstow.

In the parable, a man sows some seeds but while he is sleeping his enemy comes along and sows some weeds among the seeds. When the man’s servants discover that weeds are growing among the seeds, they report to their master and suggest that they pull up the weeds. This clearly seems like the obvious thing to do. But the master tells them to leave the weeds less, in pulling them up, they should pull out some of the wheat of the good seed at the same time. When Jesus explains the parable, he says that seeds are the children of the kingdom and the weeds the children of the evil one. These are in the world together and it will be for God at the last judgement to sort out the wheat from the weeds, therefore the wheat is to remain there growing among the weeds.

This parable clearly has some implications for us as a church. If the church is the wheat it cannot avoid growing alongside the weeds of the world. We may be tempted to cut ourselves off, so as to avoid being alongside the weeds. Indeed there are some Christians who do cut themselves off, who try to have as little contact as possible with the world around them. But the parable encourages us to remain in the world, to be among those who are different from ourselves, to live our Christian vocation alongside rather than apart from others, and to trust that God will take care, in the last days, of separating out that which is good from that which is bad.

I want to suggest this morning that this model of being the church, a church active within the world, is the model of being the church normally practiced by the Anglican Church of England (even if that has not been so evident here at St Saviour’s in recent years). The Church of England has traditionally sought to be present and active within the world, not least through its activities in the local parish. It has a model of ministry active with the world, not cut-off from it. This is the model of ministry with which I have grown-up and which determines the way in which I exercise my ministry as a priest. And I suggest that it is a model of engagement with the world which is critical for our congregation here and what it means for us to call ourselves an Anglican Parish Church.

My own experience of coming to faith was through coming into contact with the Church of England being active within my local community. I attended a school in which the local Vicar would take assemblies and I became interested in this Vicar and what he and the rest of his congregation were doing in the community. They were involved in supporting vulnerable people in care homes. They were active in providing activities for children and young people. They were responding to local issues such as homelessness and were also concerned and vocal about national and international issues, not least the UKs support for developing countries, at a time, like now, where many people in the world were dying through starvation. And as a young person, whose parents did not go to church, I was very drawn to this community of people and came to share in their life through attending my local church. I soon learnt that these people were motivated to care for each other and for the world around them because they understood that God loved them, that God showed his love for them, not least through the life and death of his Son, Jesus and therefore that Jesus’ example was one to follow. And I soon learned to accept that God loved me, to begin to follow Jesus’ example myself and to realise that I was being helped to do so by the Holy Spirit. Through all of this, my involvement with the Church was never about cutting myself off from the world. On the contrary, the Church provided a means for me to be more fully engaged with the world and this experience, of a fairly typical Church of England parish, inspired me to become a priest and that model of engagement with the world is critical to how my ministry as a priest is exercised today.

What it means in practice today is that I see my role as a parish priest as something like a chaplain – one present to respond to spiritual and other human needs - not just to the congregation of the church, but to the whole community the parish is designed to serve. For the Church of England operates a parish system. Every spot of land within England falls within a particular parish. Traditionally the boundaries of each parish were marked by the parishioners on Rogation Sunday, which falls in May or June each year, in a ceremony called the Beating of the Bounds. This ceremony served as a reminder to the congregation of the geographical area for which their church was responsible. It is a great sadness that this ceremony has become less and less popular within the Church of England and I am very keen that we should revive it here for next Rogation Sunday to remind us of the boundaries of this parish.

The parish system ensures that every piece of land is within a particular parish and hence that everyone belongs to a Church of England parish and that every home and institution within a parish is part of that parish’s concern. The parish system affords those living in a parish certain rights, for example to be baptised and married in their parish church and, where applicable, to be buried in its churchyard. But the system also imposes certain obligations on the church community, not least to pray for all those who live and work in the parish.

This system, this parish system of the Church of England, also affords many opportunities. If the priest and people are attentive to the community, to what is going on within the area, to how the church might be involved, to how the church might seek to help address the needs and celebrate the joys of its local parish, then opportunities to enhance the life of the church will follow. It a tremendous privilege, for example, for a group from the church to enter into a residential care home at Christmas and bring the joy of the season to those who are often distressed, suffering and isolated. It a wonderful experience to welcome school children into a church, not just from church schools, but from schools in the community where many children will never have entered a church before and to see on such visits how children are attentive to and amazed at the stories of Jesus. It is great to welcome people from the community for baptism and marriage when they wish God to present and to bless key moments in their lives. And, of course, it is a huge privilege to stand alongside the bereaved at times of loss and to offer the church’s ministry of prayer and care at times of loss, not least through the church’s provision of funeral and memorial services. This is the Church of England being active within its community and from it flows other opportunities to work with local agencies on tackling local problems, hence my engagement locally with the police and others through the Markhouse Safer Neighbourhood Team and our engagement at St Barnabas in the work of London Citizens, where we work alongside other churches, other faith organisations and other community groups on issues of concern to all people living in London.

All of these activities within and with the community do not detract from our mission as a church, they fulfill and enhance our mission as a church. It is through these activities that people very often come themselves to be part of the life of the church, as was the case for me and I guess for many of you here. But the Church of England does not engage with the world because it sees the world as a means getting more people to attend church, even though that happens. It is rather because the Church of England is responsive to God’s call to be present in the world, to be the wheat among the weeds. Our challenge here is to constantly ask ourselves, how are we fulfilling that mission and that call of God to be present in the world around us.

SS/17/07/2011

St Barnabas, Walthamstow, 10th July 2011, 11am

Soil – Matthew 13


I am so happy to be here at St Barnabas this morning, my first Sunday back after my three months of sabbatical leave. I am so happy to see all of you here: members of the congregation whom I have missed so much during my time away; members of my family whom with whom I am once again worshipping, here in our home church; visitors here today, including our dear friends from Italy who are staying with us in the Vicarage this week. I am so happy. My Italian friends asked if there would be subtitles with this sermon and so … (io sono contento)!

And my message to us all this morning is (siete fango) … which means, I hope, “you are mud”! Some of you are looking puzzled, not least because mud is sometimes used as a negative word in English. But mud is not always negative; many of us will know the song “mud, mud, glorious mud” and my message is that you are glorious mud (siete fango glorioso). For mud can be just another way of saying “soil”. “You are soil” (siete suolo). And why are you mud, why are we soil? Because that is to what Jesus compares us in today’s gospel: “As for what is sown on good soil, this is the one who hears the word and understands it.” Oh sorry, (I sottotitoli hanno smesso di funzionare) – the subtitles have stopped working!

You are mud; you are soil; you have heard the word and understood it. Is that not why you are here? At some point in your your life, you have heard the word of God and you are still here; you are still engaged with God; you have kept the faith.

Jesus tells a parable, a story, with a hidden meaning. On this occasion, Jesus’ disciples ask him to explain the meaning of his parable of the sower. He explains. The seed along the path is like one who hears the word but does not understand it and is corrupted instead by evil things. The seed on rocky ground hears the word with joy but does not really understand that it will carry the believer through troubles, and so falls away when troubles come along. The seed among thorns hears the word but cannot relate it to the rest of life and so does not bear fruit because it is too preoccupied with money and other cares of the world. But you are like the seed in good soil, and Jesus refers to the soil itself, as the one who hears the word and understands it and because he understands it, and because, over time, this seed stays with God, this is a soil where evil is resisted, where troubles are endured, where God rather than money or other cares of the world is primary; this seed in this soil bears fruit and yields, a hundredfold, sixty, thirty - produces in whatever measure, a good crop.

Now, let me ask you are question - or really a few related questions? How did you receive the word of God? What influenced you? Who influenced you? How did you fall in love with God? I ask these questions because it is easy for us, over time, to take our faith for granted. It is easy to get used to our religious habits, to get into a pattern, for our faith to become kind of ordinary and to forget that somehow, somewhere at some point in our lives, gradually or sometimes in an instance, we fell in love with God. And I suggest it is important for us to remind ourselves that our faith stems from that love affair and that the love we have for God, because we understand his love for us, is what motivates us to share God’s love with others – it is what makes us good soil that produces a good crop – helps us bring others to share in that love also.

It is important for all of us to be reminded of the source of our faith and I suggest it is particularly important for priests because it is easy for priests and others who, as it were, “work” for the church to become “professional Christians”. That is why in this Diocese the clergy are encouraged to take a three month sabbatical every ten years, so that we can be refreshed and reminded if you like, that before we are religious professionals, we are ordinary Christians – people who began a love affair with God and need to sustain that love affair if we are to encourage others to fall in love and stay in love with God too.

Sabbatical leave is not all Sabbath. It is not all rest and retreat. The Church of England is not immune from the Protestant Work Ethic and so in order to have a sabbatical we need to convince the Diocese that we will undertake some study or professional development which will enhance our ministry. That is one of the reasons I went to the Philippines and you can read all about that in May’s parish magazine but my sabbatical included a lot of rest and it included many opportunities to remind myself of the routes of my faith, of the origins of my spiritual journey, of when I fell in love with God and how I have stayed in love with God over the years. So it was a great experience for me to go to different churches on Sundays, to sit in the pew, to remind myself of what it was like for me in the days before I became a priest to worship as an ordinary member of the congregation. It was refreshing for me to visit Plaistow a couple of times, to pray there in the Franciscan house which is in the street where I was born, and where I spent a year living and praying with the brothers before I was ordained. It was super to go again on the walking pilgrimage from London to Canterbury, an experience which has always been a time of spiritual refreshment for me. And in recent days, it has been super to be with Italian friends, friends I met twenty years ago in Taize, an amazing place of prayer, and another place where my love affair with God was refreshed and renewed. Also, to be reminded of the place where Nico, Fabiola, Mimi and Vito live in, the very south of Italy in the beautiful city of Bari which I have visited and experienced there the wonderful spirituality of that place, not least in their church community of Santa Scholastica. And it is fabulous to be back here in this church, a place where I truly meet with God and where I feel empowered, as I trust you all do, to go from here sharing his love with others.

So my sabbatical has refreshed me, not least by reminding me of important times in my life when I have renewed my love affair with God. So, what about you? When did you receive the word of God? Where have you felt spiritual refreshment? How does this church help you to share God’s love with others? One of the most important aspects of my sabbatical was giving me an insight into some of the places where the spiritual journeys of some of you here began. I was so glad to be in the Philippines and visit the places which were only names for me before – Baguio City, Sagada, Besao, Bontoc – places which I have now visited and shared in the worship, have been given some glimpse into the places where many of you began your love affairs with God. And the same was true of my time in Barbados as I visited Vernese’s home church of St Phillip the Less, the church of St Barnabas which Ken and Vernese worship when they return to Bardados and when I made my pilgrimage to Bank Hall in St Michaels, down Hillagon Rd to find the Bethaline New Testament Pentecostal Church, the church Elaine Bayley attended as a child. I stood there in the deserted street, just as the rain started to pour down, and I prayed, “Thank you Jesus for this church, for if it were not for this church where Elaine came to faith, she would not be sharing her faith with us at some St Barnabas today. This was where she came to faith; this is where she fell in love with you; this is where she learnt how much you love her; this is the mud in which the seed of your word grew and has produced good fruit; thank you Jesus!”

What of you? Where did your love affair with God begin and when, where and how have you sustained your faith? Whatever your answer, I thank God that you are here today. The fact you are here, shows you have a story, shows you know that God loves you and shows you have the capacity to share that love with others. You are mud; you are soil; and thanks be to God that he is at work in you to produce a hundredfold, sixty, thirty or, in whatever measure, a good crop from the fruits of your love! SS/10/07/2011

Sunday 9th January 2011, St Barnabas, Walthamstow, Baptism of Christ
Gospel: Psalm 29; Matt 3: 13-17

Imagine yourself as a person who came to church for the first time just before Christmas. As such you would have followed the stories leading up to and surrounding the birth of Jesus: the visit of the angel to Mary, the journey to Bethlehem, the birth in the stable, the visit of the shepherds. Imagine you were so interested in the story of Jesus’ birth that you came for a second time last week and learnt more about the story, hearing with the rest of us the story of the visitors from the East. And then imagine you came again this week, still interested in this baby, to discover the topic is the baptism of Jesus. If you weren’t familiar with the gospel story we heard earlier, you might expect the story to be about Jesus being baptised as a child, only to discover the telling of the story of Jesus in church week by week has suddenly jumped from the stories about the baby Jesus to stories about a grown man. You might find this a little confusing, to say the least. But imagine further that you kept coming, that next week you were to hear about Jesus calling his disciples and the following week about Jesus’ first miracle. You might then think, fine, we’re certainly on to the stories about Jesus as a grown up. And then imagine you were to come again the following week on 2nd February and discover that the story was again one of Jesus as an infant, of his presentation in the Temple. If you were such a person, I wonder then if you wouldn’t be utterly confused!

Indeed, even those of us who are not new to church might find ourselves a bit muddled, asking “Why does the church tell the story of Jesus in this way? Why do we find today’s story of Jesus’ baptism, followed by the story of the calling of the disciples and then by the wedding at Cana, all essentially sandwiched between the stories associated with Jesus as a baby?” The answer, of course, is that all of the stories that we consider in this season of Epiphany have something to do with the gradual unfolding of the significance of the birth of the baby in Bethlehem. Epiphany isn’t just about the visitors from the East, it is a whole season of reflection on what Jesus’ birth means, on why it is significant, on what difference is makes not only to us but to the whole world.

That explains why our psalm talks of God’s creation and why we often here the creation story in our readings at this time of year. As we continue to ponder the significance of the birth of Jesus, a new beginning for the world, we are taken back to the very beginning - “In the beginning God created heaven and earth.” And we are reminded that the new beginning that the birth of Jesus brings to our world, echoes the creation of the world itself: “God said “Let there be light, and there was light”. The beginning of John’s gospel makes this link even more explicit: he starts “In the beginning was the Word” and continues by stating “that in him was life, life that was the light of humankind”. But the introduction to John’s gospel embraces the same story with which Matthew tells today, the story of Jesus’ baptism - a story which confirms for us the reality of that new beginning, that fresh start for humankind, brought about by the birth of Jesus.

Our gospel today tells us the familiar story of Jesus’ baptism - there's John's recognition of Jesus, the discussion between the two cousins about whom should baptize whom, the baptism itself, the opening of the clouds, the descent of the dove, and the voice of God.

I’m a great fan of Peiro della Francesca’s painting depicting the baptism of Jesus. Others have pointed out that, as a whole, the painting is serene in tone. The only onlookers are the three angels who look not a little perplexed as to what is going on. The dove floats above calm and silent, the river Jordan is no more than a pool of water before the feet of Jesus and John. The main drama and movement in the painting is in the water trickling over Jesus' head, gently falling from the bowl used by John. It’s a great painting, well worth the trip to Trafalgar Square just to take a look at it in the National Gallery. But the same scene has been portrayed much more dramatically than the painting. At least one film has great storm accompany the opening of the clouds, as God's voice thunders through throwing dazzling light on Jesus and proclaiming "You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased."

The baptism of Jesus takes place immediately before he is led into the wilderness. Jesus memories of his baptism were very fresh during his period of testing and one can imagine that he gained a great deal of strength though looking back upon that experience. I'm sure we can point to significant moments in our own faith journey, perhaps our own baptism or confirmation, perhaps other events in our faith journey. Like the scene of Jesus' baptism, these moments might have appeared calm and serene or they might have appeared incredibly dramatic. But however they appeared, remembering such moments can be a great source of comfort and help to us when our faith is being tested.

And once again, it is not accidental that the story of Jesus baptism, a story which inevitably points us to our own commitment, to our times of testing, to our times of sorrow and joy, is set alongside those cosmic themes of darkness and light mentioned in that the Psalms and Genesis. What is it that God creates? “the heaven and the earth”. God creates everything and again as John puts it again “through him all things came into being and not one thing came into being except through him”. It is worth pointing out that this is not the story that everyone tells about the world, many at the time these words were first written down, as today, believed that the world is a in constant struggle between two creative forces, the separate forces of dark and light. Watch Star Wars again for a modern and popular version of this dualistic thinking. But the Christian story is that every thing is created by God. This in itself may not seem like good news, but the point is that God shapes his creation, he separates the light from the darkness and to quote John again “the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it”. In other words, darkness is a given in God’s creation, but it is also determined by God that the darkness will not overcome the light. In the context of all our personal sorrows and the many tragedies of our world, even in what sometimes seems the hopelessness of many situations - of the threat of war, of environmental disaster, of the missing child, of a chronically ill friend or relative - darkness is never the last word.

And what does God do for us weak, sinful creatures who are too stupid to grasp this basic fact of his creation? He sends us his son – he himself is born as one of us, he himself stoops to our level, he who is without sin even identifies with us to the point of being baptised as a sign of washing away his sins – no wonder then that the voice thunders from the clouds, that God literally tears apart the skies, burst through to announce “you are my son, the beloved, with who I am well pleased.”

Still a bit confused? I hope so. For however clearly God has spoken to our world, however clearly he’s shown us that we are not to give in to the darkness with which we so often align ourselves, however, brightly the light of Jesus is shining in the darkness, it is still a fact so wonderful, so amazing, so loving of God, that it is almost impossible for us to understand. That is why we probably should all be a bit perplexed by the way the church inserts today’s story and others between the stories of Jesus as a baby. Perhaps we should all be a bit like those angels in the painting, standing by, looking on, and looking quite confused as we continue this Epiphany to ponder the significance, the wonder, the power, the joy, the miracle, the good news of the birth in Bethlehem.

Steven Saxby – 9th January 2011.

Sunday 26th December 2010 - St Stephen's Day

This morning, I invite you to explore with me the subject of our feast, namely Stephen. This is not a practical exercise so I will not be asking you to throw stones at me when I have finished speaking but it is an opportunity to take a closer look at Stephen and his relevance for our Christian lives. We know him in the life of the church as St Stephen, Deacon and Martyr. His feast day is today, the 26th December, Boxing Day, so it may not be surprising if you’ve never heard a sermon reflecting upon St Stephen. So who was he and what is his relevance for us today? There are two major aspects to his significance for us, identified by those two words “deacon” and “martyr” so it will be useful to consider his two roles in turn.

Stephen comes to prominence within the life of the early church in events which scholars suggest took place within a year of Jesus’ death. We learn about him through St Luke’s sequel to his account of Jesus’ life, the New Testament book known as the Acts of the Apostles. This book makes brilliant reading as it recounts the inspirational stories of the first Christians, not least of Stephen. The first Christians lived as a community, sharing their possessions and look after the vulnerable among them. But a dispute arose when the Greek Christians accused the Jewish Christian of overlooking their widows when the daily food was distributed. The apostles, led by St Paul, recognize that supervision of the provisions is necessary but do not want to be distracted from their ministry of preaching and healing. So it is that they appoint 7 “deacons”, literally “servants” to supervise the care of the vulnerable and other practical matters. Chief of these is Stephen, described by some throughout history as an Archdeacon.

The office of deacon remains one of the historic orders within the Church of England: deacon, priest, bishop. Sadly, however, the role of the deacon is rarely understood. All priests normally spend a year as a deacon before ordination to the priesthood and too often the deacon year serves no more than as a year of waiting to be ordained priest. There are a few, too few, in the Church of England who regard themselves as permanent deacons, a role that is better defined in some other churches, including some Anglican churches overseas. The permanent deacon, where such exist, has a clear responsibility to care for the vulnerable. I remember spending time with a parish in San Francisco and Larry, the permanent deacon there, taking me to the homeless shelter where he would lead Bible study. I was fortunate myself to have longer time as deacon and was able to engage thoroughly in diaconal ministry through helping in the nightshelter, working with refugees and leading work on two advice centres in the heart of areas of high economic deprivation.
But every priest remains a deacon and should remain committed to the role of the deacon as it is set out at his or her ordination. Here is what is read out by the Bishop when a deacon is ordained:

Deacons are called to work with the Bishop and the priests with whom they serve as heralds of Christ’s kingdom. They are to proclaim the gospel in word and deed, as agents of God’s purposes of love. They are to serve the community in which they are set, bringing to the Church the needs and hopes of all the people. They are to work with their fellow members in searching out the poor and weak, the sick and lonely and those who are oppressed and powerless, reaching into the forgotten corners of the world, that the love of God may be made visible.

Now it ought to be obvious that deacons represent a ministry which is shared by the whole people of God. In some ways the role of deacon is similar to that of Lay Reader or Church army Evangelist but also of the way we all seek to make God’s love visible within our communities and seek to bring the needs of our communities into the life of the church. The liturgy of the Eucharist has a special role for the deacon. It is hard for us to appreciate this in a church without a deacon but our Readers and sometimes our priests when there is more than one of us will fulfill the liturgical functions of the deacon which are to introduce the confession, read the gospel, invite the congregation to share the peace, receive the offertory and give the dismissal at the end of the service. In other words, these are all functions which seek to connect the liturgy with the people and the people with the liturgy, to emphasis the bringing of the communities’ needs and the role of the church to serve the community – go in peace, says the deacon, to love and serve the Lord and behind all of these lies the inspiration of the very first deacon, St Stephen.

But Stephen, was more than the first Christian deacon, he is also remembered as the first Christian martyr. It is clear from the start that Stephen is special. He is described as a man full of the Holy Spirit and eminently suitable as the leader of the first seven deacons. However, he clearly transcends the role of deacon and becomes known for performing great wonders and signs among the people. By the grace of the Holy Spirit, he is a brilliant public speaker, something tested in public debate with leaders of various synagogues and something evident in the speech which leads to his death. This is speech is laid out in Acts where he hear Stephen recount the history of the Jewish people and indicate that there have always been Jews who have rejected God’s word and persecuted its prophets. He speaks out with such courage to the leaders of Sanhedrin, the Jewish Council, with such conviction that they have rejected Jesus as the Messiah, that they are stirred up into a rage and drag Stephen out of the city to have him stoned to death. In all of this we are told that Stephen’s face shone like an angel and that his last words, echoing those of Jesus on the cross, are words of forgiveness for those who have put him to death.

Stephen as deacon is a role model for us all as we seek to bring the community’s needs to the life of our church and seek to serve the community as the church. But what sort of role model is Stephen as martyr? Stephen is the first Christian martyr and he stands at the head of that great cloud of witnesses through the ages, the white robed army of martyrs in heaven, who have died for confessing their faith. Martyrdom is an extreme measure for extreme times. Few are called to be martyrs but at times of persecution throughout history and even now in certain parts of our world, martyrs arise as a response to extreme circumstances. Above the west door of Westminster Abbey, there are now 10 statues of 20th-century martyrs from various parts of the world, including Dietrich Bonhoeffer - murdered by the Nazis, Martin Luther King – the assassinated for his advocacy of civil rights for black people in America, Óscar Romero – the Bishop in El Salvador, shot for his speaking out for the poor and Wang Zhiming – a Christian killed in the cultural revolution..

It is hard to imagine any of us being placed in such extreme circumstances as Stephen or these 20th century martyrs but each of us does have a responsibility to stand up for our faith and to stand up for those who are oppressed and vulnerable. In this way Stephen the Deacon in his care for the poor, leads us naturally into a concern for social justice, sometimes demanding that we speak out for what is right even if what we have to say is unpopular and even if it leads us to be dismissed and derived by others. In small ways we may well find that we die a bit to self in standing up for others and is a small way we are able to emulate Stephen, not only the first among the deacons but also first among the martyrs of the Church and an inspirational example as we seek to live out our faith in today’s church and world.

Steven Saxby - December 2010.

Sunday 17th Oct 2010
St Barnabas, E17.

Justice“Now will not God see justice done to his chosen who cry to him day and night?”

I invite you to reflect with me this morning on the topic of justice. Justice is at the heart of our gospel reading today. Jesus tells a story about a widow seeking justice from an unjust judge. Because the widow pesters the judge he eventually grants her the justice she deserves. Afterwards Jesus says “will not God see justice done to his chosen who cry to him day and night”? And then, “I promise you, he will see justice done to them and done speedily.” But the beginning of our gospel reading tells us that the main subject of the passage is not justice but prayer. Luke writes, “Jesus told his disciples a parable about the need to pray continually and never lose heart”. The implication is that just as the widow did not lose heart, neither should we. It is not that we need to pester God with our prayers, for God is not unjust like the God in the story, it is rather that we should persevere like the widow, continually making our prayers to God just as she perseveres in making her plea to the unjust judge.

I could say a lot more about the need to persist in prayer and, of course, we have a fabulous example of persistent prayer in the story of those Chilean miners, whom throughout their ordeal, underground for weeks and weeks, persisted in faith and were diligent in their prayers. Thanks be to God not only for their release but for their faithful witness throughout their time of suffering and anxiety. Let the people say Amen! Amen!!

I could say a lot more about the need to persist in prayer but I have preached on that topic fairly recently and fairly regularly so I want to shift to that other topic, the thing the widow pleaded for, the thing Jesus urges us to pray for, the thing God seeks to grant to his people and that is – justice.

Justice, of course, is something we mostly associate with crime. In government we have a Secretary of State for Justice (doing half of what used to be done by the Home Secretary) and that person, Ken Clark’s, responsibilities are largely to do with what we call “the criminal justice system” and concerns about how to prevent and how to punish crime. It is these concerns we mostly associate with the word justice.

I stand before you as a victim of crime. It is true. Since I have been living in Walthamstow I have had about 6 bicycles stolen, 2 from my garage right here next to the church! OK, the crimes against me have been minor and I guess many of you have suffered similarly from minor crimes. But I guess some of you have been victims of much more serious crimes and I guess all of us in some way or the other have suffered injustice in our lives. I dug out some statistics for crime in one of the wards of Walthamstow. This are not up to date but they give a flavour of the levels of crime we experience here. In a three month period from the end of June to the end of September this year there were some 327 reported crimes, and this in only one of the twenty local authority wards in the Borough. Of these there were reports of 52 thefts from vehicles, 42 residential burglaries, 22 common assault, 14 robberies of the person and so it goes on: 327 reported crimes in three months just one bit of Walthamstow. The good news, so we are told, is that crime levels have stabilized, crime is not currently on the increase. Clearly, however, we have a long way to go in our efforts to reduce crime.

I said, “we have a long way to go” and that was deliberate. For crime reduction is unlikely to come about by a simple reliance on the powers that be. Crime is a problem for the whole community and whilst the police and others have a crucial role to play, it will take the whole community to tackle crime. Now you might be wondering what on earth this has to do with coming to church on Sunday – but I hope not.

Crime destroys relationships, this is a point made by the organisation Restorative Justice, about which I'll say more in a moment. It is not only victims who suffer but the families of offenders and all in society who feel vulnerable because of the extent of crime on our streets. And since Christianity is about seeking to bring human beings into right relationship with others and with God it should be clear that this break down in relationships is of very real concern to Christians. Indeed, at the heart of crime is the evil, whether committed purposefully or as a consequence of societal forces, which leads one person to do wrong to another. So tackling crime is a key concern for Christians. And I would like to encourage all of us to think about what we can do to help tackle crime, not least by local efforts through Neighbourhood Watch schemes, making sure we report crimes, and by support for the Markhouse Safer Neighbourhoods initiative. In addition, there are things we can do as a church, not least helping to support initiatives aimed at providing positive activities for young people, something we are attempting here with providing space for a youth club to meet in our hall.

But I also want to encourage us to think about the issue of justice, to consider what kind of model of justice we will promote and support as Christians. I say this because there are different models or justice, not all of which concur with what the Bible and church tradition have to say on the subject.

Let me then say something about God's justice and if we turn to our Bibles we discover that justice is intimately connected to three other words, all of which it may help us to keep in mind as we reflect further on the issue of seeking justice.

First, justice is intimately connected with God’s holiness. We read in Isaiah 5:16 “God the Holy One had displayed his holiness by his justice!” Justice is a quality of God. Just as God is love, God is Justice. This justice transmits to God’s creation - in the image of God he created them- human beings were made to reflect, among other things, the justice of God. So like God human beings have a moral dimension, they are created to reflect God’s goodness. God’s relationship with Israel as a special people meant that they were distinctive for the moral code given as a gift by God, a code that set a high store by justice, both on judging justly and on ensuring that no one should suffer a result of anybody else’s greed. Throughout the Old Testament we find a special concern for the widow and the orphan and the unique concept of Jubilee, the equal re-distribution of wealth after every 50 year period. God is Justice and in the New Testament we see that justice is to be an overriding characteristic of God’s new kingdom. Jesus says: “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for justice (or righteousness) sake, they shall have their fill.” How can we make sure that the justice we seek is God’s justice?

Secondly, justice is intimately connected to forgiveness. Although God created human beings to be reflect his justice. We know that human rejection of God, human sin, has led human justice to be a very poor reflection of God’s justice. We see this with God’s special people. Time and time again, the people fail to live up to the standards set by God and yet time and time again we find God exercising an extraordinary forgiveness. At times, as is his prerogative, he punishes the people for their lack of justice, but so often we find his mercy. Ezra 9:13-15 puts it like this: “after all that has befallen us because of our evil deeds and our deep guilt - though you, our God, have punished us less than our inequities deserved and have allowed us to escape like this.... Lord, God of Israel, you are justice.” Once again this is reflected in God’s new kingdom. After those words about justice in the Beatitudes Jesus says; “Blessed are the merciful, they shall have mercy shown to them.” How can we make sure that we seek to execute justice with mercy?

And finally, God’s justice is intimately connected with God’s peace. The Book of Isaiah is written in three parts, the final part is addressed to the Israelites after their return from Exile in Babylon. They returned to a Jerusalem that lay in ruins. So this final part of Isaiah’s prophecy is full of words encouragement to the Israelites that God will fulfil his promises, promises made earlier in Isaiah that Israel will be re-built. Isaiah writes in chapter 60 verse 2 “though the night still covers the earth and darkness the peoples, on you the Lord is rising.” We read near the very beginning of Isaiah, in chapter 2, that God’s vision for Jerusalem is as a place of everlasting justice and peace. It is said that nations will come streaming to Jerusalem where the Lord will settle disputes among great nations and where they will beat their swords into ploughs and the spears into pruning knives. Chapter 60 speaks words of encouragement to the returned exiles, they are to have hope that God will fulfil his promises of justice and peace. As Christians we read Isaiah in the light of the cross and resurrection of Christ, aware that the promises originally made exclusively to Israel are universalised in Revelation and held up as a final promise justice and peace for the whole of humankind. God’s justice is restorative. It restores to humankind God’s initial intentions that his creation should reflect his justice and his peace. And this word peace, shalom, is multi-faceted. It does relate to international conflict but it also relates to the local sphere of peaceful relationships and individual wholeness. How are we to pursue a justice that has peace as its goal, a justice that builds up, a justice that restores?

Now how does this all relate in practical terms to life in this country and indeed in our world. Well, without saying too much about other models of justice which chiefly work on the principle of retaliation, I want to promote the notion Restorative Justice, a biblical understanding of justice, one which has been advocated by Christians in this country for many years and which is, indeed, now being practised within our criminal justice system. I don't have time to say too much about it but I would encourage you to found out more. But the basic goal is to restore the relationship that has been broken by crime. There are five R's promoted by the organisation Restorative Justice and these are they:



A. Retribution. This is punishment appropriate for the offence, but it is not vindication, continued anger, or retaliation. Those actions tear the victim away from a right relationship with God.

B. Repentance. This is necessary for personal accountability.

C. Reparation. Offenders must repair their relationships with God, their victims, and the community.

D. Restitution. This involves paying back the victim.

E. Reintegration. Lasting restoration involves reintegration of the offender back into society, through acceptance by other believers and encouragement in their walk with Christ.



Now this model is beginning to be used. Offenders and victims are being brought into conversation and many times, not always, there is a real sense of appreciation by the offender of how their actions have impacted upon the victim. How I would love to have a conversation with the people who stole my bikes!

Seriously, crime and justice are issues for us living as Christians. Let us help to tackle crime and let us contribute towards a vision of God's justice for our communities, our nation and our world. In doing so we shall be co-operating with God in seeing justice done to all those who pray for it. Jesus said, “Now will not God see justice done to his chosen who cry to him day and night?”

Steven Saxby, October 2010.

26th Sept 2010 – St Barnabas
Dives and Lazarus

Luke 16: 19-31 (the parable of Dives and Lazarus).

May I speak in the name of God, who is Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

This magnificent parable of the rich man and Lazarus forms part of a speech which Jesus delivers to the Pharisees. Throughout the Gospel narratives, the Pharisees fail to grasp what to Jesus is self-evident in the Law and the prophets. In the parable, Abraham refuses to warn the rich man’s brothers that their lifestyle will lead them to join him in the place of torment: "They have Moses and the prophets" says Abraham "they should listen to them". Jesus gives his summary of Moses and the prophets elsewhere in the gospels. In his response to a question put by a Pharisee about the Law he says, "'You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind'. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: 'You shall love your neighbour as yourself.'' On these two hang all the Law and the prophets."

To love God with all of one's heart, soul and mind, with total commitment: the good news is that this is not by means of a rigid set of rules. Rather, it is a way of living, a way which requires different responses in different circumstances. The bad news is that it can be challenging indeed to live up to that command to love one’s neighbour. The rich man is the parable is sometimes called Dives, since “dives” is the Latin for rich. We may not have the vast wealth of the rich man in the parable, but how easy it is for us to ignore those in need? This week I first looked at this passage on Tuesday evening. By then I had already feasted that week at an Igorot Party, had a delicious Lithuanian on Monday lunch time and been to my favourite eatery for Crepe Suzette on Tuesday. So you can imagine how the words pierced my heart when I read about this man who used to “feast magnificently every day”! And how many times in those three days did I pass-by someone in need, a homeless person, a woman working the streets, someone with a dependence on drugs or alcohol, a migrant worker with no source of support? On Thursday evening I was asked by the Mayor of Waltham Forest to attend the Town Hall. There some of us in the Borough met with a Pakistani Minister of State who had come to the UK (as a guest of our Archbishop) to raise awareness of the plight of the millions still suffering in Pakistan as a result of the flooding there. These people are not literally on my doorstep, but the media is there to make me aware of their suffering as if they were. Had I also ignored this suffering in front of my eyes? Once I started to think about it, I had to ask myself, “Am I like Dives? Do I ignore Lazarus in my daily life?”

Let’s look a bit more closely at that parable. We come across Dives as someone who is totally self-obsessed, caught up in his own world. He dresses in expensive clothes, he feasts sumptuously every day. Despite his great wealth he does not help Lazarus, the poor man who sits at his door every day. Even when he is in Hades, Dives' first thoughts are of himself, as he asks Abraham to let his tongue be cooled by water from the tip of Lazarus' finger. In a fantastic exposition of the parable [given as part of a speech in Harlem after King received the Noble Peace Prize], Martin Luther King Jr gives his reasons why Dives went to Hell. He says,

Dives went to Hell because he passed by Lazarus everyday and he never saw him. Dives went to Hell because he allowed Lazarus to become invisible. Dives went to Hell because he allowed the means by which he lived to out-distance the ends for which he lived. Dives went to Hell because he maximized the minimum and minimized the maximum. [Dives went to Hell.] Dives went to Hell because he failed to use his wealth to bridge the gulf which separated him from Lazarus.

It is quite likely that Dives would have thought of himself as a religious man. Yet it is quite clear that he did not follow the second greatest commandment; he loved himself, but he did not love his neighbour. But the general thrust of Jesus' message in the gospels is that we cannot love God unless we show our love for others. Furthermore, love of God is at its best when it shows itself in love for the most destitute in society, for people like Lazarus 'a poor man... covered with sores, who longed to satisfy his hunger with what fell from the rich man's table', who was so deprived of his human dignity that he was pitied by the dogs who 'would come and lick his sores'. Jesus clearly chose the name Lazarus to make a point as the name literally means “God comes to help”, as If Jesus is making the point that the rich are saved from their self-obsession by their opportunities to show compassion towards those in need.

None of us need reminding that this city, this country and this world include people whose every day experience is one of destitution. We need only walk around in central London or sometimes in Walthamstow to see people who have no homes to live in. There are people in this city whose experience is not so far from that of Lazarus. The very least we can do is not to allow them to become invisible. I remember once seeing a woman ignore a seller when he asked her if she wanted a copy of the Big Issue. He then shouted after her: 'at least you could say "no"'. Yes, the least we can do is to acknowledge the human dignity of homeless people. But we are called to more than that. We are called to an active love. We are called to do something, even if it only helps a few people. Our contribution might be to buy the Big Issue; it might be supporting homeless or other destitute people in some other way. It might include us taking collective action together as a church to support migrant workers or young people in our community or to join an organization like London Citizens. It might be showing our love for people we meet; it might be working at the level of trying to change public policy, by the fostering of a politics of love. Each of us needs to make our response in our own way, to respond in the light of our own circumstances. But we also need to keep the words of the Gospel fresh in our minds. In the same exposition of the parable of Dives and Lazarus, Martin Luther King recalls one of his visions:

It seemed that I could hear someone standing before the God of the Universe saying: "Master, I've done my job. I've gotten a lot of education; I've been to the great universities. Yes, Master I've done well and I've been able to rise to the great heights of economic security". It seemed that I could hear the Master responding by saying: "But I was hungry and you fed me not; I was sick and you visited me not; I was naked and you clothed me not; I was in prison and you were not concerned about me: therefore you are not fit to enter the Kingdom of Righteousness"'

This task of loving our neighbours can seem daunting for many reasons. It can seem daunting because of the sheer amount of pain and suffering and oppression in the world. This is why concentrating our energies on particular people or particular issues is necessary. It would be pride for anyone to think that he or she could take all the world's problems upon his or her shoulders. But it would be as wrong to think, that because we cannot do everything, that we can excuse ourselves and do nothing. All of us can, and do, do something. We can all do the 'little things' and in doing those we can, indeed, achieve great things. But even this can seem daunting. Many of the people we are called to love are wounded by the lack of love that has been shown towards them in the past. Loving our neighbours can be hard work. It can be painful. It can expose us to things inside and outside of ourselves that we would rather ignore. But in this task we are not alone.

Yesterday, those of us in Canterbury Cathedral, heard these words from Jeremiah which tell us that the task before us is far easier for those who trust in God. As for 'those who trust in mere mortals and make mere flesh their strength, whose hearts turn away from the LORD. They shall be like a shrub in the desert, and shall not see when relief comes. They shall live in the parched places of the wilderness, in an uninhabited salt land'. However, when it comes to 'those who trust in the LORD. They shall be like a tree planted by the water, sending out its roots by the stream. It shall not fear when heat comes, and its leaves shall stay green; in the year of drought it is not anxious, and it does not cease to bear fruit'.

Brother Roger of Taize used similarly wonderful tree imagery in one of his writings called Choose to Love. This choice, the choice to love, is open to everyone but this isn't a once and for all choice. This choice to love God with all our hearts, souls and minds and to love our neighbours as ourselves is a choice that confronts us every day of our lives. Yet it is a choice we can make safe in the knowledge that we can trust God to support us. And so beautiful is the invitation to choose love, that one wonders how anyone can refuse it. So, let us end with those words from Brother Roger and let us pray that they, like today’s story of Dives and Lazarus, may inspire us to respond in our lives to those in need.

Like an almond tree that blossoms at the first hint of spring, the deserts of the heart burst into flower when a breath of trusting wafts across them. Borne forward by this breeze, who would not wish to alleviate human suffering and trails? Even when our feet stumble along a stony path, who would not wish to put these ...words [of Christ] into practice... : "whatever you do for the least, the most destitute, you are doing it for me..."

Steven Saxby - 2010

Sunday 11th July 2010

St Barnabas Walthamstow

“Who is my neighbour?”

The story we’ve just heard, the story of the Good Samaritan, is surely one of the most well known of the stories Jesus tells in the gospels. It has become so familiar to us, that it may be hard for us today to recognise the power of this story, the force of Jesus’ message and its significance for us today. So I pray this morning that we can all hear this story afresh, all feel the challenge it presents us with and all be inspired to respond to it in our lives.

Jesus tells the story because he is being asked questions by a lawyer. We are told that this lawyer is deliberately seeking to disconcert Jesus, to trap him perhaps in to saying something that others can use against Jesus or just to show off his own intelligence. He asks Jesus a question - and not an easy one - , “Master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus reflects the question back, “What is written in the Law?” And the young lawyer gives a perfect, text-book answer. He quotes two passages from the Hebrew scriptures which summarise perfectly the commandments to love God and neighbour, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind” and “Love your neighbour as yourself”, words which are often quoted in church liturgies today. Jesus compliments the lawyer and tells him that if he follows these commands he will have life. But the lawyer goes on; he asks another question: “Who is my neighbour?” And it is in response to this that Jesus, as he often does in response to a question, tells a story.

It is the story of man travelling from Jericho to Jerusalem who falls into the hands of robbers, of brigands. It is not surprising that he did so. The road from Jericho to Jerusalem was a treacherous one. The distance was about 17 miles and ran through rocky and desert country, where it was easy and common for robbers to lie in wait for passers-by. But the man in our story is not only robbed – they take all he had, left naked according to some translations – but also beaten and left half-dead. What would my or your response be to seeing someone left naked and beaten, barely alive in the street? Surely we want to help or at least call someone to come and help. Well there was no-one around on this road, no-one to call so the choice was to help or not. And Jesus tells of a priest walking by. Imagine the first listeners to Jesus story. Imagine their horror at this man lying half-dead, imagine their relief as Jesus tells them that a priest comes along and then imagine their shock when it transpires that this priest does not help, but passes by on the other side. Next Jesus says that a Levite comes along, another member of the religious class of Jesus’ day. Surely he will help, but no, he too sees the man lying dead on the roadside and passes by on the other side. Jesus’ hearers would be in a state of shock!

Jesus knows how to tell a story doesn’t he: like any good joke or story with three parts, Jesus builds up to his climax. A priest has passed by, a Levite has passed by, now a Samaritan comes along. Jesus was an Israelite, a Jew and he spent most of his time teaching other Jews. So Jesus was very aware of the manner in which the Jews regarded the Samaritans, which was basically that they hated them. The Samaritans were group, a tribe if you like, of people living in the north of Israel in the region of Samaria. They were considered half-breeds by the Jews as they descended from those Israelites who then inter-married with incoming gentiles when the bulk of the Israelites were taken into exile by the Assyrians. The hatred between the Samaritans and the Israelites ran very deep. We are told in John’s gospel when Jesus is speaking to the Samaritan women at the well of how shocked she is that Jesus is speaking to her, precisely because Jews and Samaritans were known not to associate with each other. So back to Jesus’ story and along comes a Samaritan. Here is someone Jesus’ listeners would expect to pass by, especially after the priest and Levite have done so, but no it is the Samaritan who stops to help the wounded man. He really does help him too, pouring oil and wine on his wounds and bandaging them, putting the wounded man on his own donkey, taking him to an inn, looking after him himself, then leaving money with the inn keeper to take care of him, promising to pay more later if necessary. Here is real compassion and generosity shown by the Samaritan. Jesus asks the lawyer which of the three was a neighbour to the man in need and when the lawyer answers “the one who showed him mercy”, Jesus says “Go and do likewise”.

It is an amazing and a powerful story which must have stunned Jesus’ first hearers – for what Jesus says is that it is a Samaritan, one of a group the Israelites hated, who was a neighbour to the man in need. But what is the significance of this story for us, how do we engage today with the question “Who is my neighbour?”

I invite you to join me in reflecting on this story in two ways: first, through looking at a specific example of a group of people in need within our society today and, second, through asking “How can we avoid being like the religious ones who passed-by on the other side?” and “who are the ones being true neighbours to those in need with whom we should be in partnership?”

The example I wish to offer of a group of people in need today is that of migrant workers. Such people are as present to us today as the man lying half-dead was to those religious leaders who passed by on the other side, indeed we are a congregation, the majority of whom are immigrants, many of whom came here for work, and including some who experience the social issues of many migrant workers here in the UK today. It is totally understandable that migrants come to the UK to work, largely because the lack of economic opportunities and social welfare back in their home countries. The experience of migrant workers in the UK is not easy. Many are working without the protection of unions or legal employment contracts. Many are working very long hours, many far below the minimum wage, often in circumstances that are neither healthy nor safe. It is easy to underestimate the extent to which large parts of the UK economy are dependent upon the labour they provide. Harsh working conditions, long hours, lack of security, low pay, fear of deportation for those who do not have settled immigration status, separation from their loved ones back home, loneliness and social isolation – and on top of all of this, discrimination even demonization in the media and by far-right political parties! Here is a group of people in need. How are we responding?

Are we like the religious leaders who passed-by on the other side? We know nothing about the motivation of the half-dead man for being on that road. It would be easy to dismiss him as a fool for travelling on a dangerous road on his own. But the Samaritan does not question the reasons for him being there, he simply responds to seeing someone in need. I have heard suggestions, shocking suggestions really, of discrimination, even inside the church against migrant workers, even of discrimination between people who have legal status and those who do not. Surely that is bringing the values of the world into the life of the church, the church where we are all equal and united in our communion with the Lord! I even heard a suggestion that we should not marry in church, as we often do, people whose immigration status is not settled. There is pressure from the government for us not to do this but the church has its own authority to marry people in the UK and does marry people without settled immigration status because the Church of England is not an arm of the Home Office but a religious institution whose criteria for marrying people are to do with the commitment of the couple declared to each other, a congregation and God. Yes, of course, we are always under pressure as individual Christians and as a church to bow to the pressure of the world, to bring values contrary to the gospel into the life of the church, to internalise divisions from the wider society which have no place within the life of a Christian community. That is precisely what Paul addresses in the church in Corinth in that reading we heard from 1 Corinthians 11 last week and that is why this gospel challenges us today – it was not the ones who were expected to help those in need who did so, they passed by on the other side.

So how might that affect our role in responding to the needs of migrant workers? I am keen for us to ask this question to those who are in need among us and identify as a church some more practical ways of providing help and support. I say more because I know a lot is done already to help people in need of accommodation and work, to offer mutual support at times of family isolation, to offer joy and laughter through social activities. All of this is offered well, for example, from within the Igorot community to other Igorots. How can we extend this to other migrant workers in this area and across all ethnic communities? What more can we offer by way of medical and immigration advice, access to health and legal services, help with issues related to citizenship and integration into UK culture? I believe these are the sorts of questions we should be asking, with a view to us providing some support here at St Barnabas for the migrant workers in our midst and in our community, people for whom life is likely to become even more difficult in the light of government spending cuts. There is a lot of need right in front of our eyes: let us not pass-by on the other side!

And finally, to our opening question “who is my neighbour?” The answer to Jesus’ question was the Samaritan and the implication for us is two-fold: one, let us not be like the ones who should have been neighbours and were not; but, two, let us work with those who are being neighbours to those in need, including those we might not necessarily expect to work alongside. The Jews did not want to associate with the Samaritans. Jesus called for a breaking down of barriers and modelled this in his conversation with the Samaritan woman at the well. Who do we avoid in our community? Who do we separate ourselves from? One obvious answer would be our Muslim neighbours, who form a significant presence within our community but with whom we have few formal links as a church. [One reason why it is so encouraging that last evening Caribbean, African and Asian women from this congregation joined with Asian, African, Caribeean and European women from all faiths for an event in our hall.) And there are others in the community too with whom we might have as little contact today as the Jews did with the Samaritans, others who may be helping those in need, other Christians, trade unionists, people of all faiths and none, people in the community full of compassion and goodwill.

I am very inspired by the work of London Citizens which is a coalition of all such groups in the community. Started by a Church of England priest here in East London back in the early 1990s, The East London Community Organising (TELCO) became London Citizens and now operates across the whole of London and with sister branches in other parts of the UK and the world.  Its work has involved ordinary people challenging central government, local government, big businesses and others on issues of common concern, including campaigns on housing and low wages. One of its most successful campaigns has been the Strangers into Citizens campaign which has worked to highlight and serve the needs of migrants in London. Here is an example of an organisation of people in the community seeking to be neighbours to those in need. Maybe we should consider becoming part of this organisation here at St Barnabas. I would be glad of your thoughts.

I have used migrant workers as an example of a group of people in need and present in our community today. Clearly there are many other groups of people and individual who we met in need on a daily basis. We cannot personally offer help to everyone and yet we can help some and help more people together if we work as a church, together seeking to do what Jesus calls us to do within this neighbourhood.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if someone in need in this community were to be ask, “Who is my neighbour?” and were to answer “the Church of St Barnabas and St James”!

End -  Steven Saxby, July 2010.

Sunday 12th June 2010
St Barnabas Walthamstow

“Jesus had compassion on the crowds because they were harassed and helpless like sheep without a shepherd”.

I’ve begun with those words from the gospels as they seem to link perfectly the feast we celebrate today (the feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus) and the scripture readings for the feast which speak about the image of God as a shepherd to his people (most obviously in those wonderful verses from Psalm 23, The Lord is my Shepherd).

It must have been a pretty overwhelming experience for Jesus. Everywhere he went he seemed to be presented with people in need. Not long after he’s cured one person, he is presented with another and then after what must have been an exhausting day, in one passage he is presented late in the day, indeed, after sunset not only with all the sick but also with those possessed by demons. In another passage he is presented, again late in the day, with thousands of people with nothing to eat. How did Jesus cope?

And it can be pretty overwhelming for us. So often we are confronted with the needs of others as we go about our daily lives. We may visit a friend who’s having a bad time, pass by a homeless person in the street, receive a call that a relative is in hospital, sit down at the end of an exhausting day to be presented on the news with so many stories of suffering in this country and around the world, not only with sickness, but sometimes with actions that call to mind those possessed by demons. How are we to cope?

Well let me share three words which I believe are key to the way Jesus coped and suggest that these three ways are also ways open to us, individually and in our work together as a church. And the three words that I think sum up Jesus response to need are “compassion”, “prayer” and “action”.

Compassion is a word that is often associated with Jesus in the Gospel. When Matthew describes Jesus being presented with many sick people he writes that “Jesus had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless”. But Mark’s Gospel tends to describe what Jesus is like through his action and we can see that Jesus is compassionate, for example, when we read about the way he cured Simon’s mother-in-law: “he went to her, took her by the hand and helped her up”. It’s a very personal, moving account of Jesus’ personal touch, his bedside manner if you like.

Being compassionate is not easy in today’s world. Like Jesus, we are very aware of people in today's world who appear harassed and helpless. Indeed we so see many images on our screens of people in need and receive so many requests for help that I'm sure we all, at times, feel overwhelmed by so much suffering and, if we're honest, sometimes shut our ears and eyes to those who cry out for help. You've probably heard of the phrase "compassion fatigue" and indeed that phrase has found its way into the dictionary described as "indifference to frequent charitable appeals".

I take some encouragement in my attempts to be compassionate from the image of the compassionate heart of Jesus. My home parish in Plaistow was renamed the Parish of the Divine Compassion and it celebrates its patronal feast when other remember the feast of the sacred heart of Jesus. What better image for a parish named the Divine Compassion than the image of Jesus' own heart, a heart that never ceases to feel compassion?

The heart, more than any other symbol is a symbol of love. Think of some of the expressions associated with the heart. Of how the things we love most are described as close to our hearts. Of how giving without reservation is described as with our whole hearts. Of how we occasionally speak of broken hearts. Think of your own hearts and how the image of your heart is an image of your very self, a place where your memory, imagination, feeling and thinking all come together.

If the image of our own hearts is so powerful, how could we attempt to describe the image of the Sacred Heart, of the heart fo Jesus? There is such an attempt in the writings of St Teresa of Avila. In one of her visions she describes herself entering into the body of Christ through the pierced wound on his side. She then describes herself as entering into Jesus' heart and finding it not only a very beautiful place but also a place big enough for the whole of humankind. This image of the compassion of Jesus is one of great encouragement as we seek to emulate the compassion that Jesus showed for those in need.

Compassion is just one of the words that sums up Jesus’ response to those in need in the gospels, another word to sum up his response is “prayer”. What inspiration can we take from Jesus in responding to those in need? We can be inspired that Jesus took time out to be alone with God. Of course, it wasn’t easy for him to find this time and in today’s passage (as he may have done often in his ministry) he had to get up very early in the morning to find time to pray. I find this a challenge (especially as I am not very good at getting up in the mornings) but if Jesus who was already so close to the father felt the need to do it, how much more should I feel this need and make sure that out of the busyness of responding to others’ needs, I take time to draw refreshment from the source of love and compassion, namely our father in hevaen.

“Compassion”, “prayer” and a third word that sums up Jesus’ response and can inspire us is “action”. I mentioned earlier that Mark’s gospel is full of action. It is full of phrases like “immediately Jesus did this” and “at once they left there and went somewhere else”. It is an action gospel. Of course we’ve already noted that Jesus’ took time out of his action to be compassionate, to give a personal touch to his response to those in need and that he took time out to reflect and pray, but we cannot escape the importance of action in Jesus’ ministry. The end of today’s gospel shows that everyone was looking for Jesus, no doubt they wanted more of him, to spend time with him, but Jesus is eager to carry on with his work of preaching and healing and to take the massage elsewhere so that others may see and believe. It may be tempting for us to stand still, to be content with the help we’ve already given to others, but Jesus calls us on to keep up the good work, not to burn out, not to be become inactive through being overwhelmed but to carry on in his compassion, rooted in lives of prayer, in that active work of responding to those in need.

We are given a wonderful images of the love of God in action today: the image of God as the Shepherd who cares for his sheep, an image so strong in that 23rd Psalm, an image often applied to Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Image in our lady chapel of the shepherd carrying a sheep on his shoulders – as Jesus speaks of it in today’s gospel, a very practical image of compassion.

But of course, we do not do this on our own, acting just as individuals trying to be like Jesus – if were to try and do such no doubt any one of us would burn out. Jesus' power and authority to heal those in need is, in the gospel passage, given to his disciples. And in each generation, the church, the disciples of Christ in each age, receives again that authority to heal those in need. In today's church that power and authority is less visible in the hands of a few wonder-working disciples and more visible in the collective actions of the whole church as the body of Christ. Just think of what the churches are able to do here in Waltham Forest as part of the local body of Christ. In my work helping churches here to link with the wider community, I’m so impressed, for example, with how churches join together to provide shelter for the homeless every winter, of the work with young people, of many other church initiatives in this Borough and of how churches join together in helping the world's poor through support for Christian Aid and similar agencies. There is so much we can do, when we work together as the body of Christ. Compassion, prayer, action: as we continue to work and pray together as a church and with other churches may we remember that we are part of the body of Christ and that what keeps that body alive is a loving heart, rooted in a life of prayer, a heart which never ceases to feel and act with compassion for all who are in need today.

Steven Saxby, June 2010.

St Barnabas, Walthamstow
9th May 2010, 10am

Rogation Sunday

Today is Rogation Sunday. We get the word rogation from the Latin “rogare”, meaning “to ask”. Traditionally what the people asked for on this day was a blessing on the crops. For the church Rogation Sunday came to serve another purpose, the marking of the parish boundaries by walking the boundary and beating it with sticks. Today begins a series of rogation days, all placed before Ascension Day on Thursday. And the reason why people thought it good to ask for special blessings on these days before Ascension was because we read in scripture, in Ephesians 4v8: “When He ascended on high he led a host of captives and gave gifts to his people.”

George Herbert, the seventeenth century poet and country parson, commended the beating of bounds for four reasons: “1, A Blessing of God for the fruits of the field. 2, Justice in the preservation of bounds. 3, Charity in loving, walking and neighbourly accompanying one another with reconciling of differences at the time if there be any. And 4, Mercie, in relieving the poor by a liberal distribution of largesse, which at the time is or ought to be used.” Well times have changed! We no longer distribute alms around the parish. However many churches in the area, during this month, have been collecting alms for Christian Aid. We have no crops to seek God’s blessing for (other than those grown on the allotments in our parish). The parish boundary is uncontested and if we were to walk around beating young boys to impress the parish boundary upon them, as was the ancient custom, we would find ourselves in court for a serious breach of child protection!

What then, is the point of us marking Rogation Sunday today? Well, I am not a poet, but allow this 21st century urban parson to suggest four reasons why Rogation Sunday is important within our contemporary situation.

First, Rogation Sunday draws our attention, quite properly to our local situation. We live in world where the local is often undermined: it is the global that matters. And yet, the global only exists through the local. There are no general places in the world, only particular places that make up our world. The Church of England maintains a parish system, whereby every single square inch of this country falls within an Anglican ecclesiastical parish. This means that there is no part of this country that is not the concern of some church community somewhere and isn’t prayed for and served by that community. Now there are some practical applications to this when it comes to people accessing services from the Church of England and an obligation for folk to form a relationship with their parish church if they are seeking Anglican baptism or marriage; likewise there is the provision of funeral services for all who live within the parish boundary, regardless of whether they went to church. For us as a community seeking to reach out, the parish boundary means there are limits to our responsibility in terms of how many people we seek to communicate too, hence making it possible for us to deliver occasional parish newsletters to every home within the parish. This is the Church of England, taking the local seriously, not to the exclusion of the global – we pray about global issues all the time and we are, of course, a community of people from around the globe – but as part of our concern for the local and the global. It used to be said “think global, act local” – but now some say “think global and local, act global and local” as we realise how connected local and global issues are and how much need there is for action that takes both into consideration. I am pleased that last Sunday we were able to provide an opportunity for the local council candidates to meet with local residents in our hall and I hope we will be able to work well with our new councillors in coming years to tackle issues and celebrate success in our local community. Rogation Sunday is part of the dynamic by which the Church of England takes both the global and the local seriously.

Second, Rogation Sunday proclaims something of God’s, and hence our, concern for all things. What a shallow faith we would hold if we felt God was only concerned with what goes on here in Church. No, God is concerned with every aspect of life and no less with all what goes on this parish of St Barnabas. Concerned with all of it’s 6000 or so people, 15% over 60, 22% under 16; a parish where statistics tells us 50% are white, 26% Asian, 18% Black , where 47% profess to be Christian, 25% identify as Muslim, and 14% say they have no religion. God is concerned with the parish’s two schools, Edinburgh and Thomas Gamuel primaries. Concerned with the cemetery, the Coroner’s court, the offices of Children’s Services, the Sleeping Beauty Hotel, numerous businesses and shops. God is concerned with those who worship in the SDA, Boundary Rd Evangelical and Melchizedek Spiritual Baptist churches, as well as those who worship in the local synagogue and mosque. God is Concerned with those living in their own homes and concerned with those living in social housing. Concerned with the refugee living in the parish. Concerned with the folk in the old peoples homes and care homes homes. Concerned with violence on the streets and concerned with violence behind closed doors. All these things are concerns of people living in this parish, all are God’s concerns and part of our job on Rogation Sunday and throughout the year is to seek to hold all these things together with God in our prayers.


Third, I want to suggest that Rogation Sunday is important not only because it makes us attentive to the local and because it helps us be aware of God’s concern for all things, but also because praying for our local community actually does make a difference. A familiar scripture are those words “ask and it will be given, seek and you will find”. It sounds simple doesn’t it? And yet, our experience tells us that it isn’t that simple. In days gone by, and in some places still, the people would pray for a blessing upon the crops, and yet we know that the crops would not always be successful. We may pray for local businesses today and see some of them go under next year. We may pray for an end to violent attacks and yet there might be another one next week. So what is the point of all this prayer? Surely, we don’t always ask and then receive what we want? Well, there are two keys to understanding this. One is that God does not will bad things for us. We live in a fallen world, a world where bad things happen, a world with the free-will to chose to rebel against God. The other is that prayer is not about presenting a wish list to God for all the things we think he should give us, much as a child might give a list to Father Christmas. No prayer is essentially about holding every situation together with God, proclaiming that there is no situation to which God cannot speak. Our specific prayers for things we believe to be God’s will, peace in the community and so on, are appropriate. But prayer is not a magic wand. Prayer is as much about us being involved with God in seeking to transform society as it is about praying for it in church on Sunday. We will receive what God wants for us, but it may involve us in acting and not just praying. And we may discover that what we receive from God is not quite the thing we think he should give us. Prayer changes things when it brings us into active co-operation with God to bring about change. Prayer changes us because it focuses our attention and it changes others as we give them the hope that change is really possible.

So Rogation Sunday draws our attention to the local, it proclaims God’s concern for all things, it encourages to pray and make a difference to our community and

Finally, I do want to repeat one of George Herbert’s reasons for engaging in Rogation Sunday. Things have changed a lot since the seventeenth century, but this simple thing is very true. Some of us have experienced it on our walk to Westminster or the more recent walk from Trafalagar Square to St Barnabas. Christine, Joshua and Eli will experience it at the end of the month on their pilgrimage to Canterbury. And I hope next year we can experience it after church, today in urban Walthamstow, what George Herbert’s country parishioners experienced nearly 400 years ago: Charity in loving, walking and neighbourly accompanying one another! Next year let us revive that tradition and take to the streets with our sticks as we celebrate an urban Rogation Sunday!
SS/10/05/2010

St Barnabas, Walthamstow
2nd May 2010, 10am

Barnabas and Paul – Acts 13, 14, 15


Last week, this week and next week our second readings are from the Acts of the Apostles. The readings are from chapters 13, 14 and 15, chapters which tell the story of Paul and Barnabas.

I invite you to reflect with me this morning on this story of Paul and Barnabas, a story of a remarkable partnership in mission and ministry. Paul, of course, is the better known, the “Apostle to the Gentiles”, and much of the Acts of the Apostles is taken-up with the accounts of Paul’s various missionary journeys. Paul made three such journeys, as well as his final journey to Rome, but it is good for us to note, here at St Barnabas Church, that the first of his missionary journeys was made with Barnabas.

I am going to draw six points out of the story of Paul and Barnabas. Some of these are points we have been discussing in our Tuesday evening Bible Studies, so I am grateful to others for contributing towards the points I am going to make. And the hope with all of these points is that we might be able to reflect on the how the story of Paul and Barnabas might connect with our own experience as Christians engaging in mission and ministry today.

First then, we note that Paul and Barnabas were urban Christians. We have already learnt some things about Paul and Barnabas separately when we encounter them in Antioch, a city way to the north of Jerusalem in what at today we call Syria. Scholars date the events of chapter 13 as being about 6 years after the conversion of Saul, his dramatic experience on the road to Damascas, that led him to take on a new identity as Paul. But after this experience Paul lived in his home city of Tarsus for some while before the Christians in Antioch decided to fetch him to Antioch so that he could share in their ministry. Barnabas was already well respected as an early church leader, someone who’d given his own money to help support the early church and who was entrusted with looking after church finances, the reason our statue of St Barnabas has him holding a money bag in one hand. And it was Barnabas who was sent to Tarsus, in modern Turkey, to bring Paul down to Antioch.

These two were then sent on a journey to take the gospel – and note our statue has Barnabas holding the Gospel in his other hand – to take the gospel to other cities and towns. They travel, via Cyprus, where Barnabas was born, to the heart of the civilised world of their day, to Perga, another city called Antioch, to Iconium, to Lystra and Derbe and then back through all these places in what is now Turkey to return to Antioch in Syria.

So, to repeat, my first point is that Paul and Barnabas were urban Christians. Acts chapter 11 tells us that it was in the CITY of Antioch that the disciples were first called Christians. Christianity started in the cities of Antioch and Jerusalem and spread to the great cities of that time. These were major cities of the ancient world, highly developed and innovative places, places of high culture and sport, of many religions and philosophies, of social problems, poverty, exclusion, prostitution, temple sex, child exploitation.

My second point is that Paul and Barnabas were part of a multi-cultural church. Like our city and most cities in our world today, the cities Paul and Barnabas encountered were multi-cultural. Paul and Barnabas were themselves part of a multi-cultural group of Christians in Antioch even before they were sent out to other areas. At the beginning of Acts 13 we’re told who are the prophets in the church of Antioch: there’s Barnabas, who we know is from Cyprus; Simeon called Niger, an African; Lucius of Cyrene, another African; Manaen who’d been brought up with Herod, a high class-Jew; and Paul who we know was a Roman citizen from Tarsus in what is now Turkey. That was the early church: multi-ethnic - and it became more ethnically diverse as it spread throughout the ancient civilized, multi-cultural world.

My third point is that Paul and Barnabas operated in a multi-faith context. Christianity was, of course, a totally new religion. It confronted the great religions of its day and it won people of other creeds and none to the truths of the gospel. It’s worth looking at the whole of Acts chapters 13 and 14 to see just what Barnabas and Paul got up to: they go to Cyprus and have a confrontation with a magician; they go on to the pagan cities of modern Turkey; they confront Jews, Greeks and other gentiles. We’re told they spoke out fearlessly and thus it was that the word of the Lord spread throughout the whole region. Barnabas was a devout Jew, a Levite, someone qualified to be a Jewish priest. They could have preached to Jews alone, but no, they confronted people with widely different religious opinions from their own, they confronted the faiths and philosophies of the ancient world with the truths of Jesus Christ and - to top it all - they were largely successful. At the end of chapter 14 we read that on their arrival back in Antioch they assembled the church, gave an account of all God had done through them and how they had opened the door of faith to the gentiles.

My fourth point is that as well as encountering success they also encountered failure and hardship. On their journey Paul and Barnabas are winning over gentiles and Jews to the message of Jesus Christ but they also encounter opposition from Jews and gentiles. Here’s what we read in Chapter 14: 1-7.
1At Iconium Paul and Barnabas went as usual into the Jewish synagogue. There they spoke so effectively that a great number of Jews and Gentiles believed. 2But the Jews who refused to believe stirred up the Gentiles and poisoned their minds against the brothers. 3So Paul and Barnabas spent considerable time there, speaking boldly for the Lord, who confirmed the message of his grace by enabling them to do miraculous signs and wonders. 4The people of the city were divided; some sided with the Jews, others with the apostles. 5There was a plot afoot among the Gentiles and Jews, together with their leaders, to mistreat them and stone them. 6But they found out about it and fled to the Lycaonian cities of Lystra and Derbe and to the surrounding country, 7where they continued to preach the good news.
Paul and Barnabas flee Iconium because there are people in the city seeking to stone them. They go on to Lystra but then they are pursued. Verses 19 and 20 say:
19Then some Jews came from Antioch and Iconium and won the crowd over. They stoned Paul and dragged him outside the city, thinking he was dead. 20But after the disciples had gathered around him, he got up and went back into the city. The next day he and Barnabas left for Derbe.

... . So they encountered opposition and yet they continued in the work.

My fifth point relates to this, even though they encountered opposition they continued in the work and continued to encourage others. After they leave Lystra, they go to Derbe and then they make their way back to Antioch in Syria but on the way, excepting they do not return back via Cyprus, they stop in all the places where they were before and spend time with the people who’ve become Christians there, encouraging them in the faith. Chapter 14, vv 21 and 22 say:
...
21They preached the good news in that city and won a large number of disciples. Then they returned to Lystra, Iconium and Antioch, 22strengthening the disciples and encouraging them to remain true to the faith. "We must go through many hardships to enter the kingdom of God," they said.
Barnabas, of course, was known for his encouragement. If we consider the biblical passages relating to Barnabas the first thing we discover is that he wasn’t actually called Barnabas. We’re introduced to him in the Acts of Apostles Chapter 4, verse 36 and it says there that he was a Levite born in Cyprus and called Joseph - Joseph was his real name - but it goes on, the apostles called him Barnabas which means “one who encourages”. One who encourages - what a wonderful nickname to be given by the apostles. Barnabas encouraged some of the earliest Christians in the very first churches around Asia minor, and there is much encouragement for us in looking at this ministry of Paul and Barnabas.

But now for my final and really most important point and it is this, that the ministry and mission of Paul and Barnabas was led by the Spirit. In ch 13, v 2, we learn that it is the voice the Holy Spirit speaking to the church in Antioch which says “set apart for me Paul and Barnabas”, they are led by the Spirit on their journey, they use the power of the spirit in their work and they always seek the wisdom of the spirit in guiding their actions. It is not insignificant, I think, that they work as a pair, they work in partnership and they discern together the wisdom of the spirit. They were not perfect – indeed the sorry end to their partnership is that they part company over a dispute, a dispute about whether John Mark should join them on their second journey. Here we get a real insight into the humanity and ordinariness of these men, who though great friends and partners in the gospel, quarreled and parted company. Still they work in pairs Barnabas with John Mark, Paul with Silas, and one can imagine as each continued in his ministry that they often looked back with fondness to the work they did together, work which at its best was filled with the inspiration and guidance of the Holy Spirit.

I have made six points about the mission and ministry of Paul and Barnabas: it was urban, it was multi-cultural, it was in a multi-faith context, it involved hardship, it involved encouraging others and each other, and it was inspired and guided by the Holy Spirit. Clearly these are all aspects of mission and ministry relevant to our work here at St Barnabas, we shall be reflecting on them more in a final Bible Study on these chapters on Tuesday evening and anyone is welcome to join us, but I hope we can all reflect on these points in the coming weeks and years as we seek, like Paul and Barnabas, to make Christ known to others.



SS/02/05/2010

St Barnabas, Walthamstow
21st March 2010, 10am

Condemnation v Compassion – John 8:1-11

Allow me to out before you a problem. I’ll be honest enough to admit that it is my problem, and I’ll be bold enough to suggest that it is also your problem. And it isn’t only our problem, but it is a problem we can recognise among others – members of our own family, friends, and neighbours. Indeed, it is a problem we can see at large in our society, between communities, and globally between factions, tribes, and nations. What is it? It is the tendency to exercise condemnation rather than compassion, to criticise rather than to understand, to judge rather than to love. Do you recognise the problem I am describing?

And what is the cause of this problem? Well, some would say it is “human nature”. Human beings are genetically programmed, they say, to get the better over one another. In a world where only the fittest survive, any opportunity to kick your neighbour when he is down in the gutter is likely to advance your own prospects of survival. That is one view of the cause of our tendency to choose condemnation over compassion.

But Christianity says something different. We are created to love, since our creation is in the image of God and we are made to reflect his God. Therefore, our tendency to judge rather than to love, is a consequence of human beings turning away from their human nature, it is a consequence of sin. So often we think of sin as doing something we know to be wrong and that it true to the extent that sin is a turning away from God - the perverse rejection of the good God has in store for us - towards that which is not of God. Do you remember St Paul’s famous words talking about his struggles with sin, “for what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do”? That is the character of sin, it drags us down to where we do not want to be and it is perverse because it is not what we were created to be, hence our joy that in Christ we are rescued from our sin so that we may be alive with God.

God gave his people Israel, a wonderful law, a law full of compassion and yet even this was turned into a law used for condemnation. That, of course, is what is going on in today’s Gospel reading. Let us try to get inside this story and allow it to help us reflect on this problem of condemnation versus compassion. A woman is brought to Jesus who has been caught in adultery. Note that it a group of men, the scribes and the Pharisees, who bring the woman and that it is only the woman they bring, whereas presumably a man had also been involved in the act. We know, as the saying goes, that “it takes two to tango”. The woman is brought to Jesus and they make her stand there in front of everybody. Just imagine how humiliating it must have been for the woman. First, the embarrassment of being caught in the act; then the utter humiliation of being dragged through the streets, into the Temple, the most holy and public of places, and made to stand in front of everyone.

The woman was humiliated but she must also have been terrified. It is true that the penalty for adultery in the Jewish Law is death. It is true today, but it does not mean that it was and is practised. The law was there to protect, to protect marriage, to protect compassion. The rules for actually putting someone to death were exacting - two witnesses were needed of good character and the defendant must have been immediately warned beforehand. However harsh the warning, the practice was and is to exercise compassion. And yet here we have a mob, seeking to adhere to the very letter of the Law and to do so , we are told, precisely because they are out to trick Jesus. The woman is a mere pawn in their game, more degrading for her still. She stands humiliated and terrified by this mob, a mob standing there ready to stone her to death.

And then comes Jesus’ response and words which have become so familiar to us, he looks up and says to the scribes and Pharisees, “If there is one of you who has not sinned let him be the first to throw a stone at her.” Here we have the brilliance of Jesus – what an amazing thing to say – he reminds them that they too are sinners and then he begins to write on the sand. Traditionally we understand that what Jesus did was write in the sand the sins of those standing ready to stone the woman. And then, one by one, we are told, the crowd leaves, beginning with the eldest, until only Jesus and the woman remain.

Jesus has won, his brilliance has defeated the Pharisees and scribes. Once again, they have failed to trick and trap him. And yet he doesn’t make this clear to the woman. Instead - almost as if he affords her some dignity in the context of her humiliation - her looks up and asks, “Women, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” “No one, sir”, she replied. “Neither do I condemn you”, said Jesus, “go away, and don’t sin anymore.” Such compassion! Jesus does not condone her sin – “sin no more”, he says – but he does not condemn the woman, his response to her is of compassion - of forgiveness, of love.

I know that the Sunday School leaders have a brilliant exercise planned for The Barnabarians this morning. They shall be looking at teddy bears and the leaders will say that the teddy bears have done naughty things - stole another’s sweets, told a lie, etc. Then the children will be given stones and asked if they should throw these stones at the naughty teddy bears. The response the leaders hope they will get is for the innocence of the children to say, “no, of course not,” doing a naughty thing does not justify such a punishment for the teddy bears; rather, compassion is what is required. Is it stretching the imagination to far to compare the love of a child for its teddy with the love Jesus has for us? There is no reason for that love and nothing that will stop it – Jesus’ love flows from the love of God. God’s love pours over from the love exercised with the Trinity, to the love shown for his creation, the love shown for us, and not just for human beings generally, but for each one if us, each one of us uniquely loved by God.

So, what of our initial problem? Why do I, why do we, why do our loved one, friends, neighbours, why in our society, why in our world, do we choose condemnation over compassion?

Allow me to offer two reflections flowing from today’s Gospel reading. First, it is easy for us to identify with the woman in the story and criticise the scribes and Pharisees, but how often are we the ones who condemn others? And, who the people today - in our relationships, in our families, in our communities, in our world - who bear the weight and humiliation of our condemnation? Without actually being ready to stone someone to death, we can all be a bit like the Pharisees at times can’t we? Lent is a time for us to examine ourselves and, we can pray that we may be guided by God’s Spirit less towards condemnation and more towards compassion.

And my second reflection is this: the love and compassion Jesus showed towards that woman, is the very love and compassion Jesus shows towards us. Of course we sin, and of course we sin again and again, but time and time again the love of Christ, the compassion of Jesus, is there for us. The events we begin to recall next week, the events of Holy Week show us how far he was prepared to go to demonstrate his love for us, to suffer for us, even to death on a cross, the ultimate sign of his love and compassion.


We have a heard a wonderful story this morning and perhaps it is one worth us reflecting more upon in the week ahead. Maybe we can try even more to get inside this story, to identify with the times we can be like the Pharisees and scribes, to identify with the times we, like the woman, are in need of the love of God, and to hear those words of liberation, applied not only to her, but also to each of us, “Neither do I condemn you, go away and don’t sin any more.”

SS/21/03/2010

St Barnabas, Walthamstow
7th March 2010, 10am

Call of Moses – Burning Bush

‘... and he called to him from the middle of the bush. “Moses, Moses!” he said, “Here I am,” he answered. “Come no nearer,” he said. “Take off your shoes, for the place on which you stand is holy ground... .”

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today I invite you to reflect with me on the story we heard in our first reading, the story of the call of Moses. I shall attempt to draw out some points from this reading for our reflection. My aim is to encourage us all, inspired by the story of Moses’s calling and entirely suitable during this season of Lent, to think deeper about the ways in which God may be calling us, calling us, like Moses, to respond “Here I am”.

By any account, Moses is a fascinating person and a truly inspiring character. Let’s pay attention to our reading and remind ourselves of some of the aspects of the story.

The first thing we read is that ‘Moses was tending the flock of Jethro, his father-in-law’.

Moses, then, appears to be a shepherd. However, we know from the earlier chapters of Exodus, a great deal more about his background. Moses was born in hard times. His people, the Israelites, were living in Egypt. You may remember that the Israelites went to live in Egypt when Joseph had become effectively the prime-minister of Egypt. The Israelites enjoyed a time of great prosperity there and grew in numbers and wealth. But then came along an Egyptian Pharaoh who had not known Joseph, who resented the success of the Israelites, who made them work as slaves at very heavy labour, and who sought to curb their numbers by having all the new-born, male babies of the Israelites killed. These were the harsh circumstances into which Moses was born and the reason why his mother took the drastic step of putting his body into a basket in the river, with the hope that the baby would be found on the other side by Pharaoh’s daughter and that she would take pity on the child. This Pharaih’s daughter did and Moses was raised as her son, as a grandchild of the Pharaoh. Members of Moses’ family worked for the Pharaoh’s daughter and they must have told him about his real identity as an Israelite. So it was that when he was grown up, we read that he went out to see his own people. It is easy to imagine the outrage he must have felt at seeing his own people treated so harshly and we can see why he reacted as he did, killing an Egyptian when he saw him beating on his fellow-Israelites. It was this event, Moses’ killing of an Egyptian, that led him to flee from Egypt. He left behind all his wealth, privilege and status and became an exile in the desert. Moses meets Jethro and marries one his daughter’s, Zipporah, declaring of himself, “I have become an alien in a foreign land”. So, Moses appears to be a shepherd, but we know his background was much more complex.

The second thing we read about Moses is that his father-in-law, Jethro, was priest of Midian. I wonder if you can picture in your minds a map showing the north-east tip of Africa. The most north-easterly country is Egypt. Most of Egypt is on the west side of the Gulf of Suez which runs from the Red Sea and connects to the Mediterranean via the Suez Canal. But to the east of the Gulf of Suez is a triangular shaped bit of desert, the Sinai desert. Now Jethro was priest of Midian, further to the east still, in what today we call Saudi Arabia, but Moses was tending a flock in the Sinai desert, some distance from his new home. So, knowing Jethro was priest of Midian tells us Moses was far from both his old home in Egypt and his new home in Midian. But we also learn that Jethro is a priest, so this gives us some information about Moses’s religious life. The Midianites worshipped their own god, not the God of the Israelites, the God Moses is soon to encounter as the living God in the burning bush. And it is fair to assume that growing-up as an Egyptian, Moses would have known other gods too, the gods of the Egyptians. So Moses is about, possibly for the first time in his life, to encounter the God of the Israelites, the God of his ancestors, the true, living God, and to do so in the most dramatic of ways, hearing the very voice of God speak to him from a burning bush.

The third thing we read about is Moses’ encounter with this blazing bush. We are told this is the angel of the Lord in the shape of fire and Moses is curious, “I must go and look at this strange sight”, he says. This is taking place at Mount Horeb, also known as Mount Sinai. It is to this very mountain that Moses will later return after he has led the Israelites out of Egypt through the Red Sea, on this very mountain where he will encounter God again and receive from God the two tablets upon which will be written the Ten Commandments. But Moses doesn’t know any of this now, he does not know what he is encountering as he approaches the bush. He hears a voice calling him. “Here I am,” he answers. He is told to take of his shoes, for he is standing on holy ground. And then the voice declares that he is the “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob”. Moses then realises in whose presence he is and he covers his face, afraid to look at God.

Next, we read about what it is God wants Moses to do. Now imagine how Moses must be feeling at this point. Here is a man who has been fairly broken. He has been raised with a strange identity, privileged as a Egyptian but really an Israelite. He has had to flee from Egypt, not rejectted by his own people and now a marked-man in the eyes of the Egyptians. He now sees himself as an alien in a foreign land and is spending his time wandering in the desert with flocks of sheep. He is cut-off from his own people, whom he knows are enduring terrible suffering, working as slaves in Egypt. You can imagine him in the desert, depressed at the state of his people and at the events of his own life. And then the Lord calls his name and he realises he is in the very presence of the living God. How must he have felt? Over-awed, excited, privileged, elated, as well as terrified. Then he hears the Lord say a wonderful thing, “I have seen the miserable state of my people in Egypt. I have heard their appeal to be free of their slave-drivers. Yes, I am well aware of their sufferings. I mean to deliver them out of the hands of the Egyptians to bring them up out of that land to a land rich and broad, where milk and honey flow.” Wow! Moses must have been overjoyed. Here is the Lord promising liberation for Moses’ people and an implication for Moses that he can join with them without having to return to Egypt.

Now if we look at our reading as it is printed in the missals it looks like Moses immediately says, “I am to go, then to the sons of Israel...” but note that our reading is verses 1-8 and verses 13-15, so what does it say in verses 9-12, the bit missing? It is here that God says to Moses, “And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. So now, go, I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.” Imagine how Moses must have felt now! He has just heard this great news and then he hears that he is the one who has to bring this great news about! He, who has fled Egypt because he knew the Pharaoh would kill him because he had killed an Egyptian, is to go back to Egypt, face Pharaoh and tell him to let the Israelites leave Egypt! This is hardly a promising prospect for Moses.

And so the next thing we read is about Moses’ spectacular attempt to get out of doing the task God asked him to do. First, he says, “Who am I to go?” and God says, “I will be with you”. Then Moses says, “Well who shall I say sent me?” and God reveals his name to Moses. Next, and this is after today’s reading now, Moses says, “What if they do not believe me?” and God gives Moses various miracles he can perform to prove that he is from God. Then Moses declares that he is not a very good public speaker, so God tells him to take his brother Aaron who can speak for him. Finally, in a last desperate bid to avoid the task, Moses actually says to God, “O Lord, please send someone else to do it” at which point God gets angry with Moses and tells him again that he is to go and that he, the Lord, will be with him.


This, then, is the story of the call of Moses. What points can be draw from it to help us reflect on our own call? Here are a few which occur to me.

One, God calls Moses as someone with quite a complex background. So however complex our backgrounds, whatever has happened in our past, God is still interested in what we can do for him.

Two, God uses all of Moses’ previous experience and calls him for a task suited to his experience. Who else would have both a burden for freeing the Israelites and an ability to communicate with the Pharaoh, but this Israelite who had grown up as an Egyptian?

Three, God meets Moses afresh. This man who has known and probably worshipped other gods, comes to a fresh encounter with the Living God. Whatever our faith background then, God can meet us afresh and bring about new things in our lives.

Four, once we respond to the living God we are committed, from Moses’ first “here I am” and even with all his efforts to get out of the task God had in store for him, God’s call cannot be resisted!

Five, as with Moses, God may call us to do things we would never expect to do and never believe we could do and yet, and here is the last point...

Six, whatever God requires of us, he will be there to support us and give us the resources we need to fulfil the task, just as he did with Moses.

Now you be wondering, “how is all of this relevant to me?” in which case keep reflecting during this season of Lent and remain open to what God may be asking you to do. It may be, of course, that God has you doing just what he wants of you, in which case, don’t be surprised if one day calls you to another role. Or it may be, that hearing about Moses’ call, you are inspired to answer an inner calling from God to enter into something new, maybe even enter into some form of new ministry within the life of the church or service within the world. Whatever is your experience today, I trust you can take inspiration from the story of Moses the one who was committed to God from the very moment he uttered those words, “Here I am”. SS/07/03/2010

St Barnabas, Walthamstow
28th February 2010, 10am

Transfiguration - Retreat

Today we think about the story we’ve just heard of Jesus spending time on a mountain with three of his disciples. While they were there something amazing happened to Jesus. His appearance changed, his clothes became as white as lightning and two other people from the Bible, who’d been dead many years, Moses and Elijah, appeared beside him. This amazing event we call ‘the Transfiguration’. Jesus changed before the eyes of his disciples. Jesus was transfigured, he was transformed and shown to look as if he was already sitting on his throne in heaven.

I suppose many of us will have seen those children’s toys ‘transformers’, robots that can be changed into superheroes. And I guess many of us have seen the adverts for cars, transformed to dance around like people. But how many of us are prepared to be transformed by God acting in our lives?

I want to talk this morning about a way we can open ourselves up to being transformed or transfigured. I want to talk about “retreat”. Jesus was a form of retreat when he was transfigured. We are told that he spent some time on the mountain top with his disciples in prayer. They certainly spent one might there, maybe they were there for longer. However long, it is clear that they made a retreat, they came away from all the hustle and bustle of Jesus’ work of teaching and healing to spend time with God in prayer.

In the Bible the mountain is a place to meet God. Moses and Elijah both met God on the mountain top and we can assume that is why they appear with Jesus when he meets God on the mountain top in the transfiguration story. But Moses and Elijah also met their maker on mountain tops, with Moses having a peaceful death and Elijah being taken straight up into heaven. So it is not surprising that Moses and Elijah discuss with Jesus the manner of his death. Today is not the feast of the Transfiguration, we encounter this story here in Lent as a reminded that the story includes this element of Jesus looking towards his own death. His retreat is a form of discerning his true purpose. So it is for us that Lent is a time of reflection and discernment and a good time to think about how going on retreat is an ideal way for us to discern what God is asking of us in our lives.

A retreat doesn’t need to be on a mountain top - there are many places to go on retreat in all sorts of settings - but a retreat is a getting away from the normal hustle and bustle to spend time with God.

I want to say a few things about what a retreat is not. A retreat is not rest. Rest is very important in our lives. In this country we are not very good at resting. We are pushed hard at work and school. Many of us have demanding lives. Perhaps you’re good at resting. If so, share your tips with the rest of us. For we all need to build plenty of rest into our everyday lives. Retreat is not everyday rest but a special going-away – yes, to rest with God but also to do some work with God as well. Retreat is not holiday then either, not a prolonged opportunity to relax or pursue our interests but a time to make an effort with God in a focused way. And retreat is not pilgrimage, not a journey to a place but a focused bit of time, even though this could involve being on the move. Rest, holiday, pilgrimage - these are some of the things a retreat is not. So what is a retreat and how can we go about preparing for one? I’ve taken some advice here from material produced by the Retreat Association.

A retreat is a period of quiet reflection in which we can deepen our relationship with God and our awareness of God's presence and activity in our lives. In laying aside the preoccupations of day-to-day living we are free to be inwardly still, and to think, feel and pray. Through the retreat we may have a sense of affirmation of how we are living, or we may feel challenged to make changes or new commitments.
There are many different kinds of retreat. In led or preached retreats, for example, there are talks, given to the group as a whole; in activity or theme retreats prayer develops from work with paint or clay, observation of the natural world, or the like; in individually guided retreats there are daily one-to-one meetings with the retreat-giver. Different approaches suit different people: you may like to try several.
Some retreats are largely, or entirely, in silence: the people making the retreat do not talk with each other. Despite the lack of conversation, however, there can be deep sense of companionship. At mealtimes there is usually music or a reading to listen to.
On a group retreat there will be periods of worship together. If making an individual retreat it is good to go where it is possible to join in with prayers, for example staying as a guest of a religious community. Such a community will normally provide someone as a link for you if you wish to talk confidentially about things while on retreat.
I have come to enjoy what I call “walking retreats” where I walk for most of the day - sometimes alone, sometimes with others – and build reflection and prayer into the walking experience. I shall be out walking all day tomorrow in preparation for a walking retreat in March and April, walking the length of the Essex Way, an 80 route from Epping to Harwich.
What should we take on a retreat? Well, find out whether there is anything you are asked to take. Take comfortable clothes, and weatherproof outdoor clothes and footwear. You may like to take a notebook. If you enjoy quiet creative activities such as art, knitting or tapestry, you may like to take the materials. A retreat is an opportunity to listen inwardly, and reading can be a distraction - be very sparing in what you take.
What about silence? What should we do in this? Well, relax! You may like to rest and sleep. As you move around, use your senses - pay attention to the sights, sounds and smells. You may like to express any thoughts, feelings, perceptions or insights, in words (prose or verse) or in images (such as drawing, painting or clay). If you read, read only a little and then ponder the meaning of what you read, your reaction to it, and its significance for you. Activity is good if it deepens your retreat: if it starts to take over, set it aside.
And of course you can also pray - for others, for yourself, or in quiet contemplative awareness, open to the Spirit. At the end of a period of prayer, look back over the prayer time and recall what happened. Notice what you felt, and especially anything that surprised you. You may like to record the details in a journal, so that you can go back to them later.
Try to let go of any anxiety, and just relax in the quiet. Be sensitive to others, but behave naturally towards them. If someone smiles at you, feel free to smile back. In the silence, however, you will not know how each person is feeling, so if someone seems to be preoccupied or unaware of you, don't take offence.
If there are talks, try to open yourself to them: let the words touch your heart and mind. Feel free to take notes, but let listening and responding take precedence. Try to be punctual for any group sessions: if everything starts on time everyone will find it easier to relax into the retreat. However, don't feel you have to go to everything or conform to any expectations. Be open to your own needs and the leadings of the Spirit.
The silence will usually finish some time before the end of the retreat, perhaps in time for conservation over the final meal. Before this happens, look back over the retreat. What have you experienced? Have you received or resolved anything? Is there anything you have decided to do? Is there anything about which you remain unclear, or for which you are waiting?
Back at home, daily life will quickly re-impose itself. If you have kept a journal, though, you will be able to remind yourself of the retreat: you might like to put a reminder in your diary to reread the journal in a couple of months' time. You will need to find ways of integrating insights and commitments from the retreat into your ordinary living.
There will be opportunities to tell others about your experience. Be as open as you feel able to be, but recognize too that some moments or sensation may be too subtle or too personal to convey to others.
Peter, James and John found there experience on the mountain top to be so amazing that they wanted to stay there forever. They suggested to Jesus that they make some shelters for them all to stay in. And Luke makes it clear, in adding that Peter did not know what he was saying, that he was being pretty dumb. The transfiguration was an amazing moment in Jesus life. It was a moment of affirming who Jesus was as God’s voice instructed the disciples to listen to his son. It was a retreat from the everyday but the point about retreats is that they equip us to go back to the everyday. The transfiguration always reminds me of Martin Luther-King’s great speech in Harlem after he had received the Noble Peace Prize. He said, I have been meeting Kings and Queens, I have been on a mountain-top having transfiguring experiences. But then he says, I have been on a mountain-top, but I have got to get back to the valley, back to the valley of pursuing the justice and peace. Retreats are transfiguring experiences. Like the Sunday Eucharist, they provide us with strength to face the challenges and appreciate the joys of everyday life. We cannot live on retreat and we may not always be transformed by a retreat but a retreat is a real opportunity to open ourselves towards God doing something special in our lives.
It can be daunting if you’ve never been on retreat to make that first retreat but in my experience people who do so then make a retreat year after year. Feel free to talk to me more if you’d like to explore going on retreat. You are never too young or too old for a retreat. I can provide you with a good magazine on retreats and a link to the Retreat Association. This Lent may be a very good opportunity for you to decide to make a retreat.
I’ll end with a prayer from the Retreat Association:

God of stillness and creative action, help us to find space for quietness today that we may live creatively, discover the inner meaning of silence,
and learn the wisdom that heals the world. Send peace and joy to each quiet place, to all who are waiting and listening. May your still small voice be heard through Christ, in the love of the Spirit Amen.
SS/28/02/2010

Sunday 31st Jan 2010
St Barnabas, E17 - 10am.

Jesus in the synagogue - 'The Bible for Sinners'

Our gospel reading this morning is the continuation of the gospel story we heard last week, the account of Jesus in the synagogue back in his home town of Nazareth. I invite you to join me in taking a closer look at the story. I shall then draw out four points from this bit of scripture, making reference also to this book by Rowland and Roberts entitled ‘The Bible for Sinners’.

So let’s take a closer look at that gospel reading from Luke, chapter 4. Today we heard the story reading from verse 21, but the account of Jesus in the synagogue in Nazareth began last week from verse 14. Here’s what happens. ‘Jesus, with the power of the Spirit in him, returns to Galilee’. He has not long come from his baptism in the Jordan and those 40 days in the wilderness where he was tested by the devil. We learn later that he had already started healing people and we are told that he was gaining a reputation throughout the region of Galilee, with everyone praising him. Then he comes to Nazareth, the town where he grew up and on the Sabbath day he goes to the synagogue. Jesus stands up to read and he is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah. From this scroll, he selects these words:

 
The Spirit of the Lord has been given to me,
For he has anointed me,
He has sent me to bring good news to the poor,
To proclaim liberty for captives,
And to the blind new sight,
To set the downtrodden free
To proclaim the Lord’s year of favour.

After he has read, he sits down and everyone is looking at him. We can assume that they are waiting for him to speak, to deliver some interpretation of the scripture and he then says “This text is being fulfilled today even as you listen”. All that was in last week’s reading and we continue this week hearing that, ‘Jesus won the approval of all’ not some, but all, that ‘they were astonished by the gracious words that came from his lips’. Then someone says, “This is Joseph’s son, surely?” Now we cannot know the way in which this remark was made. Was it positive, ‘hasn’t Joseph’s son grown into a fabulous man?’ or negative, ‘who the hell does this bloke we’ve known since he was a lad think he is?’ Jesus then says, ‘No doubt you will say to me physician, heal yourself.’ He knows they have heard of his miraculous healing elsewhere and he predicts that they will ask him to do the same in Nazareth. But Jesus then says “I tell you solemnly, no prophet is ever accepted in his own town.” He goes on to talk about two stories from the scriptures, both stories of prophets bringing relief not to their own people but to foreigners. Elijah does not go to the widows of Israel but to a widow at Zarephath and Elisha goes not to the lepers of Israel but to the Syrian Naaman. Remember that before he told these stories all had been amazed at his gracious words but now everyone is enraged! They rush to their feet, hustle Jesus out of town, take him to the highest point of their town with the intention of throwing him down the cliff, except that Jesus slips through the crowd and walks away.

That is the story in last and this week’s gospel readings. I shall now draw four points from it and offer them for your reflection, while also making reference to this book ‘The Bible for Sinners’.

The first thing I want to draw attention to is that within this story we find Jesus engaged in interpreting the scriptures for the context in which he lived. When he chooses that passage from Isaiah, he says of it, ‘this text is being fulfilled today even as you listen’. He then uses two stories from the scriptures, stories about the prophets Elijah and Elisha going to the aid of foreigners rather than the people of Israel, to make a point to those listening to him, to illustrate his point that no prophet is ever accepted in his own country. Jesus is interpreting scripture. Now the crowd react very positively when he says the words of Isaiah are being fulfilled in their hearing but after he speak about Elijah and Elisha they become enraged. It is interesting to note this. They first agree and applaud his interpretation; they then become enraged by his interpretation. My own take on this is that they are quite happy to hear the words of Isaiah and to hear that they are to be fulfilled, but they become enraged when Jesus starts to talk of himself as a prophet and one who sees himself in the tradition of Elijah and Elisha as being sent not to his own people but to non-Jews.

This book, ‘The Bible for Sinners’ is a fabulous read not least because it grapples with some of the contentious issues around today concerning the interpretation of the Bible. Drawing upon Jesus’ own teaching that he did not come to ‘the righteous’ but to ‘sinners’, it questions the way those in authority within the Church often determine the interpretation of the Bible and use it to oppress rather than liberate people. For many church leaders, the Bible has become a weapon with which to control human action, rather than a something which gives life to the people of God. This is particular evident in the way in which the Bible is used against divorce, against the leadership of women in the church and against sexual minorities. On the positive side, it points to examples throughout history and today where the Bible is interpreted by the poor and oppressed as a tool for liberation. Seemingly Jesus’ hearers in the synagogue were happy to hear that the downtrodden would be set free. They, after all, lived under a cruel, oppressive Roman regime. But they were less happy to hear that this liberation was also for people they wished to exclude – happy for it to be for them, not for others, especially not for non-Jews. Imagine BNP voters in Barking and Dagenham greeting the news that they will be delivered from their poverty but then becoming enraged that this would also be offered to immigrants.

My first point is that Jesus interpreted the scriptures. My second point is that he did so with ‘the power of the Spirit in him’. It says this right at the beginning of the story. Jesus returns to Galilee ‘with the power of the Spirit in him.’ How should we interpret the scriptures? ‘The Bible for Sinners’ points out that the Bible is not a book which always gives way to a straight-forward interpretation for today’s context. It shows that, throughout history, the Church has recognised the need for discernment in working out how to apply the Bible to its contemporary context. The authors use a description by the respected Evangelical scholar Tom Wright, now Bishop of Durham, of the Bible being like a five act play with the fifth act missing. We need to discern the end of the play by applying what we know of the story so far to our own situation. The authors agree with this approach to interpreting the scriptures and show that this has been a common way of the Church doing so, that it is, for example, the methodology of the Roman Catholic Church today. The problem, of course, is that the Bible lends itself to different interpretations for today’s context. How else would we have such disputes in the church today over women in the church and human sexuality? The authors depart with Tom Wright and the Roman Catholic Church in denying that the ‘fifth act’ can only be interpreted by those in authority. As mentioned earlier, they are arguing for “sinners” rather than “the righteous” to render up interpretations of the Bible. But all agree that this process of interpreting scripture must proceed by the guidance of the Holy Spirit. Just as Jesus was in the power of the Spirit, so any interpretation of the scriptures, whoever seeks to offer it, must proceed from prayerful attentiveness to what the Spirit is saying to the churches today.

So where does this leave us? We are not the experts, but we too are charged with the task of interpreting the scriptures, by the power of the Spirit, for our context today. We are not bound by the interpretations of those in authority, but we are not free to interpret the scriptures however we please; being open to the Spirit involves us seeking to discern in love what the scriptures have to say to us and our world in the midst of all our joys and struggles. And this brings me to my third and fourth points.

Third, we can take Jesus’ own interpretation of the scriptures as our pattern for interpreting the scriptures today. We have already noted that we should seek, like him, to interpret scripture in the power of the Spirit. But note what else Jesus does when he uses the scriptures: he uses them to preference those who are oppressed. In fact, a key insight of Rowland and Roberts’ book is that Jesus’ approach to interpreting scripture is much more radical than the way in which the Church has used the scriptures over the centuries. For example, when Jesus is criticised for healing on the Sabbath, he rejects using the scriptures as a means of denying the liberation of those in need of healing. Jesus mixed with those considered unrespectable in his day - with drunkards and gluttons, with tax-collectors and prostitutes - and yet the Church, over the centuries, rather than always siding with those who are excluded from society has often sought to further marginalise and oppress them, often quoting the Bible as a means of doing so. When Jesus reads scripture in the synagogue, he chooses that text about liberation – setting prisoners free, bringing recovery to the blind, good news to the poor. In other words, Jesus uses the scriptures as a tool for liberation and rejects using the scriptures to further oppress people. This is our pattern for interpreting the scriptures, after the example of Jesus himself bringing liberation to those who are downtrodden. In Jesus’ day it was tax-collectors, prostitutes, those with skin diseases, the woman caught having an affair. Who today, who in our society, who among us are the ones for whom the Bible can bring release from exclusion and prejudice, from fear and abuse, from poverty and oppression?

And so to my fourth and final point: Jesus was courageous in his interpretation of the scriptures and that courage also sets the pattern for how we should interpret the scriptures today. Jesus was riding high on popularity when he came to his home town. He chose a passage of scripture which resonated with the oppression of his people. All approved and glorified him. Jesus could have left at that point or said no more and he would forever have been fondly remembered in his home town. But no, he carried on and he enraged his hearers. He knew they would not at all like what he was going to say. And yet he showed tremendous courage. They were so enraged that they attempted to kill Jesus - such was the courage with which he delivered his interpretation of scripture to his hearers. ‘The Bible for Sinners’ gives examples of people through history who have showed tremendous courage in interpreting the scriptures. That courage was sometimes in the face of severe opposition from the Church authorities. In another book edited by Rowland called ‘Radical Christian Writings’, he gives numerous other examples and shows how people through history have interpreted the Bible and stood courageously against state authorities or the general mood of the day. Think of Martin Luther King and his use of the Bible for civil rights, of Desmund Tutu and his use of the Bible against Apartheid. Now, I do not want to be prescriptive about for whom we should be courageously interpreting the Bible today to support those who are downtrodden or excluded. I have my own views and I know you will have yours. What I would love is for as many of us as possible to engage in Bible study together, to interpret the Bible together in love, bringing our own experiences as the raw material for our interpretations. The Bible is ours; it is not the property of the Church hierarchy. Let us embrace it as a liberative tool to help us in our lives and to bring freedom to others.

I have offered my interpretation of the story of Jesus in the synagogue at Nazareth. I hope I have encouraged you to interpret this story in your own way to speak to your context. But I hope too, that we might all be led to interpret the scriptures as Jesus did - in the power of the spirit and with courage to bring liberation to all those who are downtrodden today. 


Steven Saxby - Jan 2010.

Sunday 24th Jan 2010
St Barnabas, E17 - 10am.

Amen

Amen. It’s a word we’re all familiar with. Amen: A word which we say throughout the mass. Perhaps it is a word we’re too familiar with, a word which we take for granted, which we use automatically, especially in church. I’m sure at some point we’ve all stopped to ask ourselves “what does Amen actually mean”, perhaps we’ve even looked it up in the dictionary and been satisfied with the definition “so-be-it”.

Our first reading this morning gives us an opportunity to spend a little longer reflecting on that word Amen. For the occurrence of the word Amen in Nehemiah chapter 8 is one of the relatively few occasions where the word appears in the Bible. In this verse and others the word Amen actually conveys much more than “so-be-it”, even though it rarely appears in the Bible, where it does occur it is used in a variety of ways and it is my hope that as we reflect this morning on the appearance of the word Amen in 2 Corinthians and elsewhere in the Bible, we may be led into a more thoughtful and fruitful use of the word Amen in our worship.

I’m going to focus on four ways in which the word Amen is used in the Bible and instead of making the traditional points 1, 2, 3 and 4, I’ll instead make points A, M, E and N.

A. Amen is used in the Bible as a word which expresses assent. It is indeed used in some places in the Bible, but by no means all, as a means of saying so-be-it, of the people giving their assent, expressing their agreement with what is being said on their behalf. Turn, for example, to what I think is the earliest appearance of Amen in the Bible, to Deuteronomy 27. There we see the various curses on disobedience - where Moses degrees that the priests will regularly recite the curses and after each one “all the people will answer ‘Amen’.”

And I suppose that is our most familiar use of Amen in our worship. A prayer is said and the congregation answer “Amen” - “so-be-it” - a kind of “hear, hear”. Indeed if we were to conduct evensong exactly as we are directed to in the Book of Common Prayer, almost the only thing the congregation say throughout the service is Amen, as a response throughout the service to prayers said by the priest.

We do use Amen to signal our assent to prayers said together or on our behalf during our worship. But this is not the only way in which Amen is used in the Bible and so to point M which is that Amen is used as a manifesto word in the Bible.

What I mean by a manifesto word is that Amen is used not just to signal what the people agree with in the Bible but us also used to signal where the people stand, what they believe in. This is how the word is used in Nehemiah chapter 5. We see in verse 12 that the leaders make a pledge to stop oppressing the poor, they say to the prophet Nehemiah “we’ll do as you say” and in verse 13 “everyone who was present said “Amen” and praised the Lord. And the leaders kept their promise” In Nehemiah 8, the use is similar. The people assent to the Law that has been given and they commit themselves to obey it. They say “so be it” to the instructions to follow the Law.

And this is the context in which the word Amen appears in 2 Corinthians chapter 1. Paul is explaining why he has had to break a promise he made to return to the church in Corinth. The explanation is that it was for their own benefit for him not to return, but he wants to assure them that he made the original promise in good faith, that it was not a fickle “yes” which really meant “no”. I’m sure we’re all familiar with people saying yes to something but having no intention of honouring their promise. Paul breaks his promise for a good reason but he made it in good faith. He did not speak a yes and a no - for Christ is not yes and no but God’s yes, God’s promise of what is good for his people, we can say Amen because through Jesus we are confident of God’s promise.

Amen is an indication of where we stand - we do not fully understand every prayer to which we respond Amen. Some of the prayers we use in church, the collects in particular, take some deciphering before we can understand what we’re really saying Amen too. Elsewhere, in 1 Corinthians 14.16, Paul warns us of the importance of not saying Amen to something we do not understand at all. He asks those who speak in tongues without interpretation “how can an ordinary person in the meeting say Amen to your prayer of thanksgiving?” And yet there are times where it is appropriate to say Amen where we do not fully understand something, not as a means of saying we understand it, but making the pledge to understand it, to make statements of faith, statements like the creed, which we can never fully understand but which signal our commitment, signal where we stand. In such contexts Amen is our declaration, our manifesto for living in accordance with God’s promises.

And so to point E, which is that Amen is used in some places in the Bible as a word to say everything. Amen is one of those rare words like Alleluia, which sums up our praise, sums up what has been said before. When at the time the Prayer Book was written few were able to read and so join in with the creed, the Gloria and other prayers, it was enough for those people to sum up all that had been said by the priest in that single word “Amen”. This is how Amen is used in Revelation 19.3. All that has been said before is summed up by the 24 elders in the repetition of the words “praise God” and “Amen”.

Indeed much more is made of Amen in some worship contexts where it is used exactly this way. I’m thinking of the way the words “Alleluia” and “Amen” are used continuously throughout many Pentecostal services. Also of the emphasis given to the Amen at the end of the Eucharistic prayer. That Amen is properly known as the great Amen and in the early church it was never a timid little Amen as might be said at other points but was the Amen, the Amen that signified everything that had been said by the priest in the thanksgiving prayer and it would literally have been shouted out by the congregation. You get something of this in churches where the great Amen is song, and especially in South American services where the Amen is song over and over again, rising ever more majestic to the sound of strumming guitars, signifying a word of praise that summarises everything that needs to be said.

And finally, to point N, which is that Amen is used in the Bible as a name, a name for God. This point underpins why it is that we can use Amen as a response to God’s yes in Christ and indeed as a word that sums up all our praise to God. The recognition of God’s truthfulness, God’s faithfulness to his promises is so central to the Biblical understanding of God that Amen is even used as a name for God. Take a look at Isaiah 66. 16 and we see written in out Good News translation “Whoever takes an oath will swear by the Faithful God” but the original Hebrew for that word translated as faithful is Amen and used as a proper name for God “the God Amen”. Later in Revelation 3.14 we find John instructed to write to the angle of the church in Laodicia “this is the message from the Amen - used here as a name for Jesus.” We can say Amen through Christ, precisely because we can be confident that the God of truth, the faithful God, the God Amen will remain faithful to his promises.

You may or may not forget that I’ve used the words assent, manifesto, everything and name to signify some of the different ways in which the word Amen is used throughout the Bible. But I hope you won’t forget that Amen is used in the Bible to mean much more than just “so-be-it”. Let us pray that as we continue to use the word Amen in our worship we may continue to use it as a means of saying yes to God, of declaring where we stand, and as a means of signifying our praise to God, who we can call upon as the God Amen.

Steven Saxby - Jan 2010.


Wedding at Cana

“We are invited to a wedding”. That’s what I say to my wife on those occasions, normally at least once a year, when I open an invitation to a marriage or civil partnership ceremony. We are invited to a wedding. Over the years, that has involved me going as guest, sometimes going as the priest asked to take the wedding, once going as the best man!

I wonder what goes through your mind when you are invited to a wedding. I’ve given some thought to what goes through my mind, and here are three phrases that sum up how I tend to respond to a wedding invitation.

First, I am grateful for the generosity. I’m immensely grateful whenever I have been invited to each of a wedding, to share in such an important and memorable occasion in the lives of the couple. In these days, when typically, a lot of expense on behalf of the couple is associated with inviting people to the ceremony and celebrations that follow, it is a real privilege to be invited to a wedding.

Second, I feel privileged to share in a family occasion. I’m really excited anytime I am invited to a wedding. I suspect I’m not alone here in loving a good wedding. I particularly love the timelessness of weddings, the way the day is punctuated by a series of rituals, accompanied by different types of food and drink, speeches and music. But what I love most of all is the privilege of sharing in a family occasion. If it is friend’s wedding, normally you will get to meet relatives on both sides who you’ve never met before and you are afforded a new insight into the family dynamics of your friend and get to see new sides to their personality. Isn’t it a privilege to share in such a family occasion?

Third, I feel the need to prepare myself. You can’t just turn up to a wedding. A wedding involves a great deal of preparation, even for the guests. I particular remember that wedding when I was best man as that involved me in a special responsibility and a lot of extra preparation. I had several conversations with the groom in the run up to the wedding, I had to go to the stag night, hire a vehicle for the marriage weekend, arrange childcare for the children, buy a present, I remember Christine made a beautiful card, then we had to go shopping for new outfits, and so it went on. Although I felt grateful and privileged to be involved, that wedding in particular involved me in quite a bit of preparation, not to mention having to recall my friend’s most embarrassing moments as I wrote the inevitable best-man’s speech!

Today’s gospel reading is about Jesus at a wedding. The wedding is at Cana, a village not so very far from Jesus’ home town of Galilee. We are not so sure why he is there, and there with his mother and his disciples, but in those days (as in some parts of the world today) a wedding involved a very large gathering of people. In a village like Cana, we can assume that pretty much the whole of the village was invited as well as people with connections to the family from further afield. And weddings would last over a few days: a real celebration for the whole community. So imagine the embarrassment when the wine ran out. We have been reflecting on gratitude for the generosity shown to us at weddings. But imagine a wedding, perhaps you’ve been to one, where the wine runs out! Just as today, it would be a shocking affair.

Aware of the potential embarrassment to the wedding couple of the wine running out, Mary mentions it to Jesus. He seems to dismiss his mother’s suggestion that she is asking him to do something about it and says to his mother, “Woman, why turn to me? My hour has not come yet.” Nevertheless, Mary then says to the servants “do whatever he tells you”. Do you remember what I said about getting an insight into family dynamics at weddings? Here we get a very intimate insight about the relationship between Jesus and Mary. She eggs him on; he resists; she persists; he responds. Remember this Gospel is written by John, Jesus’ beloved disciple and the one he trusted from the cross to take care of his mother. So John knew them both intimately and that intimacy pours out onto the pages of his gospel.

And then remember what I said about preparing for a wedding? Well, he we find Jesus unprepared for what he is about to do. Mary knows his power and urges him to use it for the benefit of others. Now it is often said that Jesus clearly loved a party! His first miracle was to turn water into wine and not just any wine – wine that was described as the best of the evening. And it wasn’t just a glass or two. Jesus turned six stone water jars into wine, the kind we know stored 30 gallons of water, that is 180 gallons or 818 litres of wine! That would have kept the party going for quite some time and it shows once again the generosity of God, his goodness overflowing towards us, just as when Jesus fed the 5000 and there was plenty left over. But the point in all this is that Jesus didn’t feel prepared and yet his hour had indeed come for him to reveal something of who he was. As I have said before, Epiphany is a all about Jesus being revealed for who he really is – in the visit of the magi, in his baptism in the Jordan, in his miracle at Cana. And what the gospel says today is ‘This was the first of the signs given by Jesus: it was given at Cana in Galilee. He let his glory be seen, and his disciples believed in him.’

With that wonderful story of Jesus at a wedding in mind, here is an invitation for you: join me, if you will, on a short tour, a tour through the Bible looking at the relationship between God and weddings. We’re not so much concerned here with the obvious and frequent references to people in the Bible getting married, but rather with the way wedding imagery and language is used in the Bible to tell us something about God. So, if you’d like to fasten your seat-belts we’ll begin the tour.

We start in the Old Testament with Isaiah 54:5 and here is how the prophet describes God’s relationship with the people of Israel “your Creator is your husband”. We move rapidly to Jeremiah and there the Lord says this about his people “I shall make a new covenant with the House of Israel and the House of Judah but not like the covenant I made with their ancestors the day I took them by the hand to bring them out of Egypt, a covenant which they broke, even though I was their Husband.” Next we move on to the prophet Hosea and here we find that the book begins by talking about marriage, indeed the unfaithful wife of Hosea is compared to Israel as the unfaithful wife of the Lord, but God is so loving to the Israel that he takes back this unfaithful wife, declaring, “I will betroth you to myself forever”.

As our tour shifts to the New Testament we find this wedding imagery continues and that Jesus on various occasions refers to himself as the “Bridegroom”. The disciples ought to be happy that Jesus is with them for “the time will come when the bridegroom is to be taken away from them” and yet this time of sadness will pass for we are also told in the parable of the 10 wedding attendants that the Lord will come again, come indeed as a bridegroom at an unexpected time when only those who are prepared will be able to run out and greet him. Moving on to Ephesians we find that St Paul makes the explicit link between human marriage and the relationship between Christ and his church and at the end of our tour, in the Book of Revelation, we are given that glorious image of a wedding banquet in heaven where Jesus is the Bridegroom and the Church is the Beautiful bride.

We are invited to a wedding. The tour we’ve been on presents us with a clear pattern throughout the Bible. In the Old Testament God himself is described as the Bridegroom to a sometimes unfaithful Israel; in the New Testament God in the person of Jesus becomes the Bridegroom to the church. It hardly needs pointing out that the church has also been at times unfaithful to Christ, that the church at times has been far from beautiful and yet we’re given that wonderful image at the end of time of the bridegroom coming again and restoring the church to her beauty as the bride of Christ, celebrating with him in the heavenly banquet.

We are invited to a wedding. How about considering again those three phrases I mentioned earlier about gratitude, privilege and preparation in the light of Jesus wedding at Cana and of a wedding tour of the Bible?

Gratitude for generosity: just as we are grateful when invited to a wedding, let us be truly grateful to the generous God that we’ve been invited to participate in his purposes.

Privilege to share in a family occasion: our invitation is an invitation to participate with God and the love he enjoys within the Trinity and which overflows to us. Just as we see that beautiful insight into the loving relationship between Jesus and his mother in today’s gospel, even more are we drawn into the insights between Jesus and his father, the love between God the Father and God the Son. Let us pray that we may continually feel privileged by the invitation to participate with God in the dynamics of his overflowing love!

And finally, the need to be prepared: Let us pray that we may be prepared, prepared on a daily basis to worship and serve God and prepared also for that great heavenly banquet. Let us pray, that we may be like those wise wedding attendants in one of Jesus’ parables, that we will be truly ready to run out and greet the bridegroom when he comes. We are invited to a wedding and not only that, we are invited together as the church to be the very bride of Christ, to be intimately feasting and dancing with him at the heavenly banquet.

We are invited to a wedding, may we feel grateful, privileged and prepared to respond to that r.s.v.p., “Yes my Lord, we will be there!”

Steven Saxby - Jan 2010.

Baptism of Christ - 2010

St Barnabas, Walthamstow, 10th January 2010
Baptism of Christ

John declared before them all, “I baptise you with water, but someone is coming, someone who is more powerful than I am, and I am not fit to undo the strap of his sandals; he will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

There’s a story of a famous, radical priest who would often climb into the pulpit and shout “Fire! Fire! Everywhere but in the Church!”

Well let me ask you and ask us all: Does your baptism in Christ set you aflame? Are you bringing the fire of God to others? Is the church setting the world alight?

John the Baptist, or John the Baptiser, had a fabulous ministry. People went to him in large numbers to be baptised. They went out to meet him in the desert. They were washed by him, purified of their sins. And even Jesus, considers it fitting that he should be baptised by John. But the baptism of Jesus is different from that of John in several respects. First, John baptised his own people – it was Jewish people who went to John for baptism. But as Luke points out in that section of the Acts of the Apostles (our second reading today), the baptism Jesus offers is open to all, anybody of any nationality who fears God. It’s great to hear that, not least in our multi-cultural congregation and community. Baptism is the rite of welcome into the life of the church and that welcome is one we are to offer, as Christ did, to all people, of every nationality, recognising as Acts says ‘that God does not have favourites’.

Secondly, John washed away the sins of those who came to him seeking purification. But the baptism offered through Jesus is something even more radical, even more powerful. John is keen to emphasise that he is simply the one who points the way to Jesus. John has become popular with the crowds but he deflects the attention away from himself, even using the fantastic, exaggerated image of not being “fit to undo the strap of his sandals”. John says that the one coming, Jesus, will be much more powerful than he is and that is reflected in baptism. John’s baptism washes away sins, but Jesus’ baptism not only does that, it actually leads us to be totally re-born. Paul writes in various places of how in baptism we die with Christ and are raised to new life with him, and that imagery of death and re-birth is very much reflected in the baptism liturgy we use today. That is what we are promoting when we encourage people to consider baptism for themselves or for their children, not just the forgiveness of sin, but being re-born in Christ, being born to new life in him.

And the third thing to notice about the difference between the baptism of Christ and the baptism of John, is what John himself describes – he baptised with water, Jesus baptises with the Holy Spirit and with fire. I am often astonished by those who say the church did not invent the Holy Trinity until the Council of Nicaea in the C4th. Now it is true that the church took three hundred years of reflection and debate, years of humans seeking to understand the mystery that is God, before proclaiming the Doctrine of the Holy Trinity. But the awareness of God as Father, Son and Holy Spirit was always present in the mind of the Church and not least because it is thoroughly scriptural and no more obvious than in the gospel reading for today. Luke tells us very clearly, Jesus is at prayer, after his baptism by John, “and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily shape, like a dove.” And then the voice of God the Father descends from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; my favour rests on you”. There it is, very plainly, in the scriptures: God the Son, with God the Holy Spirit descending upon him, and the voice of God the Father from the heavens. Simples!

John baptises with water; Jesus baptises with the Holy Spirit and with fire. Now, we have the presence of the Holy Spirit at Jesus’ own baptism, even descending upon him in the form of a dove. And we believe that when someone is baptised it is by the power of the Holy Spirit. That is what makes Baptism a sacrament in the eyes of the Church, it involves the presence of the Holy Spirit descending upon the one being baptised. Again this is all reflected in the baptism liturgy so when we encourage people to baptism we encourage them to partake of the Holy Spirit. That is why, incidentally, we need not be overly anxious when parents bring a child for baptism and we may feel they are doing it for social reasons, that they are not really committed to bringing the child up in the faith – that child when baptised receives the Holy Spirit and we can trust that it is the Holy Spirit which will be at work in the life of that child.

So far we have noticed three things. 1) John baptised his fellow Jews; Jesus’ baptism is for all people. 2) John washes away sins; in Jesus we are washed of our sins and baptised into new life. 3) John baptised with water; Jesus’ baptism is baptism by the Holy Spirit. These are the three things we have noticed but we have still not heard much about that other aspect. John said Jesus would baptise with the Holy Spirit and with fire. What of that fire? Let me try to warm you up a bit as we focus a bit more on fire!

The church was of course born with fire! On the day of Pentecost, the day on which we celebrate the Holy Spirit coming down on those first 120 disciples, the Holy Spirit descended, not this time as a dove, but in the form of tongues of fire coming down from heaven, separating out and landing on each one them! The church was brought to birth with fire! And fire, throughout the Bible, is associated with the presence of God.

In Exodus 3, God appears in the burning bush in the form of fire. In Exodus 19, God appears to Moses again, this time on Mount Sinai and we’re told he descends on the mountain in the form of fire. In Leviticus 6, the priests are instructed to set up a fire on the altar of the Lord and told ’the fire must always be burning on the altar, it must never go out’. In Isaiah 60 and similarly in Revelation 22, it is implied that the everlasting light that shines out to the nations is that of God in the form of fire. Have we got the point? Throughout the Bible, and there are many other passages which show us the same thing, the holiness of God, the presence of God is associated with fire.

Let us return to the questions I asked earlier: Does your baptism in Christ set you aflame? Are you bringing the fire of God to others? Is the church setting the world alight?

I discovered only last week that during our midnight mass here, while I was reading the gospel in the middle of church and quite unaware of what was going on behind me, a member of the choir, quite literally, was on fire for God!! One of the candles caught her robe and it caught light. Now what would you do in that situation? I know that I would panic. But she didn’t. She stayed calm. She patted down the fire but more than that, she replaced being on fire in the literal sense with being on fire in the spiritual sense, her calmness and her faith, led to feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit. She was on fire for God!

Sometimes, most of the time, a fire is a tragic thing for a church! But occasionally - this is off the record - a fire in a church - whether partial or totally burning the church to the ground - is the occasion for a creative re-ordering or a new, more appropriate building. Take the example of St George’s, Shernall St, where a glorious new church rose up from the ashes after the previous building was burned down! What I want to draw out in all of us is the question, how can I, how can we - without literally burning down church buildings or setting ourselves alight - how can we actually be a church on fire, so that we can light up the world around us?

The image of fire may seem fierce - and sometimes fire, even holy fire, the fire of the Holy Spirit - is fierce. It may be fierce in a positive way - like the fire of a coal furnace, creating energy that we receive in a controlled, helpful way. Or it may be fierce is a destructive way, like an out of control forest fire, destroying at random, possibly making way for something better to develop but maybe destroying that which we will mourn the loss of. But fire can also be gentle, providing not only warmth, but comfort and inspiration. Have you ever found yourself staring at a fire, maybe a bonfire transfixed, in awe at its wonder and beauty? Fire can be fierce but is can also be gentle: there are different kinds of fire.

And one thing we need to remember in the context of our baptism in Christ is that there are different kinds of disciple - the very fact that the tongues of fire led the disciples to speak in so many diverse languages suggest there is no one way in which every Christian is expected to bring God’s fire to the world - as Paul puts it to the church in Corinth - there are many gifts, many ways of serving the Lord, but ... there is the one Spirit. In other words, it may be your gift as part of the church to bring the gentle warming, comforting fire of the spirit to those around you, or it may be your gift to bring disturbance, to set the world around you ablaze.

Today we celebrate the baptism of our Lord. In doing so, we focus on the baptism he received from John but also on the baptism we receive through faith in Christ. This is a baptism for all people, this is a baptism which brings re-birth in Christ, this is a baptism with the Holy Spirit and with fire. So, let us use this occasion to ask ourselves again, to be challenged by the baptism of our Lord, and seek to say Amen to those questions. Does your baptism in Christ set you aflame? AMEN. Are you bringing the fire of God to others? AMEN. Is the church setting the world alight? AMEN!


Steven Saxby - January 2010
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Epiphany Sunday 2010

I was struck this year by how many of the Christmas cards we received depicted the three wise men. In all of them it was three, dressed as kings carrying their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Its a very popular, very strong image at Christmastime - as certain as Mary wearing blue and the cute cow in the stable. One year I made a point of experiencing a Spanish Epiphany. Its then that the Spaniards really give gifts to each other, emulating the gifts of the wise men to Jesus. There was a real sense of carnival, the streets were full of thousands, there was a massive procession of bands, huge puppets, dancers, horses and at the end, the climax of the parade came the three elaborately dressed kings, riding on camels. And yet, however strong an image we way have of the three kings or wise men, its revealing to take a closer look at the gospel for this morning and remind ourselves of how much vaguer the biblical account is than the one impressed upon our collective consciousness.

First of all, it is only in Matthew’s account of Jesus’ birth that we read of the wise men (and by contrast only in Luke that we read of the shepherds). Of course, we don’t really read about wise men at all, but rather, in the best translations anyway, of the magi - who no doubt were wise, but may have been many other things as well. Indeed, there’s a lot to be said for an ambiguous term to describe these mysterious characters who followed the stars and listened to their dreams. And then, we are not told there were actually three magi. Perhaps it fair to assume that if each bore one gift as in the school plays, the classical paintings and the Spanish processions that there were three, but the text itself does not give us a number, the masculine plural in the Greek tells us it was at least two but it could have been any number more, and as far as the grammar is concerned there is no reason to believe that a band of magi, collectively bearing the three gifts did not include women. Furthermore, we are not told very clearly where the magi are from. We’re are told somewhat vaguely that they came from the east. But what does that mean? East of Jerusalem? China, India - if so were they Hindu, Buddhist? More than likely, Matthew expects the reader to make the literary link between the gifts borne by the magi and the treasures associated in Jeremiah and Ezekiel with the rulers of Arabia - ancestors of Islam. And what do these gifts represent? Traditionally, each of the gifts has been given symbolic significance, each a kind of prophecy related to what Jesus be and do: Gold for royalty, frankincense for divinity, myrrh for suffering. But others have speculated further and our own Bishop of Barking has described each a potent symbol of power: economic power, religious power and media power. Perhaps they were simply the best the world of Jesus’ time had to offer. What we might ask would be laid at Jesus’ manger in today‘s world?

And yet, amidst all the questions that the biblical account of the magi raises, there are at least two things that were quite clearly in Matthew’s mind when he wrote down his account, things indeed for more important than the details about how many visitors came, who exactly there were, where precisely they came from and what there gifts represented. First Matthew’s presentation of his story makes it clear that the magi are to do with revealing something about who Jesus is. The magi come not to reveal themselves, but to reveal something about Christ - indeed perhaps that’s why Matthew is vague about the magi - Jesus is the focus of the story. And whoever they are, the light draws then to Jesus, he fills them with joy, they kneel down to worship him and they, who were probably used to receiving gifts, offer their gifts to him. That is why the season is called Epiphany, word that literally mean manifestation - its about making manifest, making known what Jesus is. And secondly, and here’s the real highlight of the story: Matthew is clear that the visitors reveal something quite specific about Jesus - something that would have come as a shock to his first largely Jewish readers. Jesus is made known not only to the Jews but also to gentiles. Indeed, the inclusion of Herod in the story shows Matthew demonstrating that some Jews were to reject Jesus and yet, these mysterious visitors from the east, certainly non-Jews were able to recognise what Jesus was and in doing so foretell how Jesus would bring salvation to all of God’s people, Jew and Gentile. Perhaps its these points that we can bear in mind as we take down our Christmas cards, look again at those famous paintings and fondly remember the school plays and Epiphany processions?

Steven Saxby - 2010

Sun 25th Dec’ 2009 – Christmas Day,

I pray that the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts may be acceptable in God’s sight. Amen.

What present are you giving to Jesus’ this Christmas? Hold on to that question. What present are you giving to Jesus’ this Christmas?

I belong to an e-mail group of clergy and others and one of my comrades sent his present to the group, a re-working of the hymn O Come, all Ye Faithful. In his version, the second verse begins:

“Sing, choirs of vagrants,
sing in desperation,
sing, all ye denizens of streets below,
"Glory to God
Glory in the highest!"
O come let us adore him

Those words are a good reminder of how God comes, not least, to the poor at Christmas. Born in the poverty of a stable, his first visitors are the poor shepherds in the fields. In one version of the retelling of this story, in a medieval mystery play, the shepherds present their gifts, small things, but all they have: a bunch of cherries, a small bird, and the last says:

Hail, darling dear, full of Godhead!
I pray thee be near when that I have need.
Hail, sweet of thy cheer! My heart would bleed
To see thee sit here is so poor weed,
With no pennies.
Hail! Put forth they hand.
I bring thee but a ball:
Have and play withal,
And go to tennis.

And yet the Christ-child is visited not only by the poor and lowly shepherds with their simple gifts but also by the wise and powerful with their highly symbolic and valuable gifts of gold, frankincense and myrhh.

And yet, even the wealthiest can be poor. One of our Christmas Eve rituals is watching “It’s Wonderful life!” When George Bailey’s father dies, George says to the powerful Mr Potter - the twisted old man, taking over the town without a care for its people - George Bailey says to Potter, “My father died a richer man than you’ll ever be”. And we can see how poor Potter is, due to his lack of compassion, compared to the caring Peter Bailey.

And Christ is visited at Christmas by us as well, we who whether poor or rich, come with all sorts of vulnerabilities and weaknesses, our own poverty. We heard in our gospel reading that the Word was Made Flesh and it is to our weak, frail, vulnerable, hurting flesh that Jesus comes and comes to transform.

What present are you giving to Jesus’ this Christmas? Why not just give of yourself? Just come to Jesus as you are. However, poor or rich you may be feeling at this time, whatever the strains or joys in your life. Draw near to the child in the manger and let him transform you. Why not come to Jesus with these Christmas carol words in mind?
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

SS - Sunday 25th December 2009.

St Barnabas, Walthamstow - 29th November 2009 - Advent

"Who are you?" On one level that might seem like a straight -forward enough question. And were a new acquaintance to ask, "Who are you?" you'd probably give the relatively simple answer: "I'm Don", "I'm Edna", "I'm Vera"... But suppose a good friend were to put the question, "Who are you?" How would you respond then?

There's a story of a very ill woman who was lying in a coma. She suddenly had a feeling that she was taken up to heaven and stood before the Judgement Seat.
"Who are you?" a Voice said to her.
"I'm the wife of the mayor", she replied.
"I didn’t ask whose wife you are but who you are."
"I'm the mother of four children," she said.
"I didn't ask whose mother you are but who you are," said the Voice.
"I'm a schoolteacher."
"I didn't ask what your job is but who you are."
And so it went on, but whatever she said she didn't seem to give a satisfactory answer to the question "Who are you?"
"I'm the one who goes to church every week and helps those in need," she said.
"I didn't ask what you do but who you are."
She evidently failed the test, for she was sent back to earth. When she recovered from her illness, she was determined to find out who she was.
[Taken from De Mello, Taking Flight, pp140f.]

Who are you? Who am I? These seem particular good questions to ask on Advent Sunday. Today our focus is on the second coming of Christ, on what we call the last judgement, the time when each of us, like the woman in the story, will be asked to give an account of who we are before the Lord. In the reading we heard from Paul’s first letter to the church in Thessalonia, he urges them to “make more progress in the kind of life that they are meant to live”. In the gospel reading, Jesus urges his disciples to stay awake at all times so that they can “stand with confidence before the Son of Man.” So our Christian lives are a preparation for us standing before the Lord at the Last Judgement and giving an account of who we are.

Who are you? I suggest this morning that this question and our preparation for the last judgement are closely related to matters which we in the church refer to as issues of 'vocation' or 'calling'. Some years ago, I happened to be reflecting on those issues when I received a phone-call from a friend of mine. At the time he was a Franciscan brother and his phone-call seemed heaven-sent. He said to me: "What are you doing this afternoon?" I replied, "I'm reflecting on vocation." "Good," he said, "How would you like to come and watch a game at Upton Park?"

After the game, as we attempted to drown our sorrows in the Boleyn Pub over another West Ham defeat, my friend surprised me by turning to me and saying “I don't really believe in vocation. What he meant, I discovered, was that he didn't subscribe to the idea of vocation that sees God's finger descending from the clouds and plucking some unsuspecting character to play a difficult role in the divine drama. That way of seeing vocation is, I suspect, quite familiar to many of us. We often see vocation as being about priests and bishops, about monks and nuns, about the great characters of the Bible, but far less about us, about us ordinary folk. Even when we do accept that we have a part do play in God's great plan to redeem the world, it seems that ours is a very minor one.

For my friend, as for me, vocation is about that for some but has much more to do with asking the question "Who am I?" And the answer to that question for my friend, for me, for each one of us is hugely complex. For us, as for the woman in the story I told earlier, it can seem more difficult to answer "Who are you?" than to describe ourselves in terms of our family relationships, our work, our hobbies, our church commitments, where we live, what we do, who we spend time with, and so on. Of course all these things do - to a large extent - shape our lives but no single aspect of our lives seems to give a satisfactory answer to the question "Who are you?"

Of course, we are called to different tasks and to different responsibilities. The church needs priests, monks, nuns. It needs Readers, Evangelists, Pastoral Assistants, Servers, Organists, Choir members, cleaners, intercessors, flower-arrangers. It needs Christian men and women to be active in the world. It needs people to be involved in public life, as school governors and politicians. It needs people in various professions as teachers and nurses, in finance, in administration, in shops and factories, in Walthamstow market – all being salt and light, living out Christian values and sharing them with others. We have vocations to our lifestyles whether we are single or married or in civil partnerships, whether we are fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, brothers and sisters. But all of this, whatever is right for us, is an outworking of what it means for us to answer the question “who are you?”, it is about discovering who we truly are in our relationship with God.

Whatever else we are, it encourages me to recognise that each and every one of us is unique, special. Never forget that you are somebody, created by God to be nothing else but yourself, the person God has created you to be. It's interesting to note that in the Bible vocation or calling is bound up with naming. That comes across for example in the prophet Jeremiah where he says: 'The Lord called me before I was born, while I was in my mother's womb he named me.' Simon, when he meets Jesus is from then on called Peter. On meeting him, Jesus does not ask "Who are you?" Jesus knows who he is. He says "You are Simon son of John", but Jesus knows him even better than he knows himself. Jesus does not so much give him a new name as give him his true name as he says to him "You are to be called Peter".

It's a wonderful thought, in contrast to the difficulty of answering "Who are you?" to think that each of us has a true name, fully known to God but not always clear to ourselves. What vocation is about, is discovering who we really are, discovering the name by which God knows us. What vocation is not about is identifying a role and asking "Can I do it?" Rather it is about reflecting on whether how we live is really true to who we are. That's what preparing for ordination was about for me. It wasn't about shaping myself to some ecclesiastical mould; it was about reflecting on my past, imagining my future and asking myself "Will ordination really be about me being who I really am?" Such change in life is often gradual and respects what God has done with our lives so far. Tomorrow is St Andrew’s Day and I love the way that Jesus respects the previous profession of Andrew and Simon by saying that they will remain fishermen if they follow him - it is just that they will now catch people rather than fish. But change can also be frightening and Andrew, one who suffered for his faith, who died on that X shaped cross, knew that kind of change too. At times like these, I am mindful of that beautiful song - “do not be afraid for I have redeemed you, I have called you by your name, you are mine”.

So, “who are you?” And what is God currently doing in your life? Is he calling you to a gradual or a dramatic change? Is he calling you to some new task or role? If so, it is worth asking these “who am I?” type questions. And these are the “who am I?” type questions I encourage you to ask yourself at times of potential change in your life: “Will my life taking that shape allow me to be me?” “Will it do justice to who I've been in the past?” “Will it enable me to fulfil God’s vision of my future?" These are questions I have asked at various points in my life - when I first became a Christian, when I offered myself for ordination, when I got married, had children, changed job or started a new course of study. And, thank God, I have found more often or not, and even in the face of big challenges ahead, the answers to these questions, much to my delight, have come as a surprisingly clear, joyful, hopeful "Yes!" At such times, I have heard the Lord calling my name.

"Who are you?" It is not an easy question to answer. We are yet to discover our true names. But in the meantime, we are discovering ourselves, we are preparing to make an account of ourselves before the Lord and we do so not least through learning from others who we are to them. For the time being, at least, we can hear the Lord calling our name through the voices of our brothers and sisters. So if you are asked "Who are you?", by a stranger of a friend, you might do a lot worse than give the hugely complex, yet relatively simple answer: "I'm Don", "Edna", "I'm Vera"...

Steven Saxby - November 2009.

SUNDAY 15th Nov 2009. St Barnabas, Walthamstow

Last Judgement

Our readings today focus on an awesome theme – the theme we often refer to as the Last Judgement. These readings are part of the build-up to Advent, which begins in two weeks’ time, and which always begins with reflection on the Second Coming of Christ, a time Christians look forward to as the End of Time. Our lectionary is preparing us for Advent, for the beginning of the Christian Year, but, of course, Advent is always a rather curious beginning to the Christian Year as it always begins with what we normally think of as the end. And these few weeks in the run up to the beginning of Advent and its focus on the Second Coming, also anticipate the End of Time or, as it is also known, the Coming of Christ’s Kingdom, for which reason this pre-Advent period is sometimes called the Kingdom Season.

So it is that our readings today are what are known as “apocalyptic”. Like the Book of Revelation, also called the Apocalypse of John, they in some way predict the End of Time. Our first reading from Daniel predicts the Archangel Michael protecting God’s people at a future of time of great distress, when ‘spared will be the ones whose names feature in the Book, and where they will go to everlasting life, while other to everlasting damnation’. And in Mark’s gospel, Jesus also predicts a time of great distress, when angels will gather up the chosen from the four winds, from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven’. And these passages are like many others in Daniel, and prophets such as Isaiah And Jeremiah, as well as a few other references in the Gospels, which predict events we usually associate with the End of Time and the Last Judgement of Christ. Luke's gospel speaks of this day in relation to signs in sun and moon and stars, to distress upon the earth at the roaring of the seas, and to the Son of Man himself descending on a cloud.

These ‘apocalyptic’ passages have often been interpreted in a way which conjures up rather horrific images of what the end of the world will be like. There is a huge painting in the Tate Gallery by John Martin entitled 'The Great Day of His Wrath'. Soon after it was completed, that is in the early eighteenth century, it toured the country and folk would pay to go and see it much as people pay to see a movie today. I can see why they did. For this painting is full of action. It depicts an apparent valley at the bottom of which there are many people in great panic and fear. This valley is actually formed by what looks like a massive wave of deep red volcanic lather. On closer inspection the viewer of the painting realizes that at the top of the wave, suspended on its edge, way up in the air, is a whole city and that this city is about to come crashing down on the cowering people below. This is just one image of a type with which we are all familiar. Some Christians it seems still enjoy presenting such images to non-Christians, something which always strikes me as a rather counter-productive way of trying to convince people that God is Love. But most of us, I suspect, would, because of these horrific images, prefer to keep quiet about the Last Judgement. We may even feel that if it is really going to be as these images paint it, then we would wish to join neither those perishing in the eternal fire of Hell nor those smug Christians in heaven saying 'I told you so'.

The problem for us in relation to our understanding of the last judgement is that the idea has been somewhat hijacked by those who present it as an horrific final day, the exact date to be revealed on the day itself, and on which Jesus will literally descend on a great cloud and dish out eternal rewards to some and eternal punishments to others. But I want to argue that this is by no means the only way in which we can conceive of the last judgement. To help me make this argument, allow me to share with you five considerations.

The first is quite a frivolous but none-the-less heart warming one. It relates to the fact that all those men who used to walk around with signs reading 'The End is Nigh' in Oxford Street and elsewhere, people who used to horrify me as a child, are now walking around with signs saying things like “50% off, turn right after 200 yards”. We realize now that they were being paid all along and were not, as we might have suspected, special messengers from 'On High'.

My second, more serious, consideration has to do with the issue I referred to earlier about the way in which the Christian Year is structured. We begin at what seems like the end. Why? Why doesn't the Christian year start, like most stories, 'once upon a time' or, as the Bible puts it, 'in the beginning'? It is interesting to note that the Creation story does not feature in the lectionary until around March. The reason for this is, I suspect, relates to the notion that the Christian story is bigger than humanity's part in it. It is the story of the mystery of our faith, yes. But the mystery of our faith must surely point beyond itself to the mystery of God, a mystery which is not contained within the boundaries of human time or space or reason. Our beginning is not God's beginning; nor is our end God's end. To begin our story with our end is curious, but then our story is a curious one. It is one which points beyond itself to that which is the mystery of God, a mystery beyond all our beginnings and all our ends.

Following this, my third consideration relates to the appropriateness of expressing our understanding of the mystery of God as a story. The telling of stories is an important and major feature of human life. But what are they? What do they do for us? Why do we tell them? We all do tell them. We tell them about ourselves. We tell them about others. We watch films that tell stories. We sing songs that tell stories. We follow a team and we become part of its story (in my case the fall and fall of West Ham United). We watch soap operas - and even though the characters in them do not really exist, there is no doubt that the stories about them can tell us something about ourselves, about how to live our lives well and about how to share our lives with others.

One of the things we have increasingly become aware of in recent years is that the Christian story is by no means the only story to which people in Britain appeal to help them live well. Not only do we live in an increasingly multi-faith society but people are increasingly making use of stories that are not from any religious tradition. The daily news, films, soaps, popular music - all of these probably exercise a far greater influence on people's everyday thoughts and actions than all of the religious traditions in Britain put together. This is by no means a thoroughly bad thing. Indeed, we tell many of these stories too. For many of them are good stories which help us to live well. But let us not forget that our Christian story is also a good story. It is our story, a story that helps us to live well. And in a world where not all stories other than ours are bad but in which far too many stories are about distrust and despair and violence, our story of faith and hope and love surely has much to offer.

But am I selling the Christian faith short by saying that what we have to offer is 'a story'? Should I not instead speak of us proclaiming 'the truth', as many other Christians do? I don't think so. For to describe our faith as a story is to keep in mind that the story is ultimately not about us but about that mystery of God to which I have referred. Karl Barth, who most recognize as a very orthodox theologian, wrote that stories are a particularly appropriate way to talk about what is true in relation to God. For telling a story is not about providing a series of neatly packaged bits of information. If this were so then stories would certainly not be appropriate for conveying anything about the mystery of God. A story, even a Biblical story, is not, for example, like a cake. When we bake a cake, however creative that may be - and I am discovering here at St Barnabas that cakes here can be very creative - when all is said and done the cake is consumed and that's the end of it. But it is not the same with a story. The information we put into a story is not just consumed with the telling of that story. Stories go on having an impact on us. And even stories from the Bible do not convey information to be consumed but to be considered, interpreted, used, re-interpreted and re-told. All this is done in relation to our always inadequate understanding of what truth such stories are conveying about the subject of our faith, namely the mystery of God.

And so to my fourth consideration. This has to do with the circumstances in which the references to the last judgement were first produced, namely circumstances of persecution. The first talk of last judgement in the Bible comes from the time when the Israelites were in exile in Babylon. These circumstances, which led the prophet Isaiah to speak of a day of righteousness and judgement, were very bleak circumstances indeed. The Israelites were crushed and without hope. They were far away from their country, cut off from their fellow citizens, working as slaves, and with no political or military power to do anything about it. How were they to interpret their experience in relation to the mystery of God? Some of them seemed ready to give up on their God. God may have led them out of slavery in Egypt and into a promised land, but now they felt utterly deserted. It was in these circumstances of apparent abandonment that Isaiah and others encouraged their fellow Israelites not to give in to despair. They should keep hope and keep faith with their God for this God would come to rescue the Israelites from exile.

If we are to believe the biblical scholars, it was the very circumstances of the exile which gave rise not only to a new story about the end of time but also to a new story about the beginning of time. So it was in this period that the 'In the beginning' account of creation was also first written down. And it was in this period that the story about a final day of judgement was first written. The circumstances which gave rise to both a beginning and an end story were circumstances in which the Israelites came to believe that their God was in control of history, that this God was able to act in their history and liberate them from the mighty Babylonian empire which was keeping them in exile. So it seems less likely that the stories were written to convey a package of information about the first seven days and the very last day of history and it seems much more likely that these stories were written for the express purpose of expressing the hope of the people who were the first to hear them.


What these first four considerations amount to is this: for many of us the traditional but horrific image of the last judgement as an actual day at the end of time seems unacceptable; at the same time such an horrific image does not seem to do justice to the original purpose for which the last judgement story was written, nor to the sort of information stories as stories convey, nor to the way in which we tell our Christian story, nor to the primary subject of that story. I am not suggesting that we should dismiss the notion of the last judgement altogether, but I am suggesting that we should all feel easier about re-interpreting the end of our Christian story in ways which make sense for us as we try to live well in relation to the mystery of God.


And so to my fifth and final consideration which relates to paying attention to what Paul says in the second reading were heard today from his letter to the Hebrews. Paul refers to Jewish priest over and over again offering sacrifices, normally animal sacrifices, for the forgiveness of sins. He then says that Christ has offered one single sacrifice for sins and that he has taken his place for ever at the right of hand of God. Notice that even Christ’s enemies are there with him, and even have the honour of being a footstool for him. And Paul goes on to say ‘by virtue of that one single offering, he (Christ) has achieved the eternal perfection of all whom he is sanctifying’. Should we, with Paul, believe that the Old Testament notion of some being thrown into eternal damnation no longer applies? Jesus is now at work sanctifying all! It is not for us to know the mystery by which this is achieved, but that is the promise: Jesus is at work sanctifying all creation, working for the eternal perfection of all he is sanctifying and by his once and for all offering of himself, this work is already in the process of completion! As Jesus himself predicts from the cross “It is finished”!

These considerations have, I hope, helped me make the argument that we need not consider the last judgement in relation to the sort of horrific images with which we are all far too familiar. Yet it would be quite contrary to the way in which I have made my argument to suggest precisely what an alternative interpretation of the last judgement story should be. Let me leave you however with just one example of a re-telling of the story which I, at least, find quite attractive. It is the way the composer Mahler re-tells the story in his second symphony. The symphony begins as a very depressing piece of music and as it goes on it basically gets even more depressing - that is until the fifth and final movement which leaves the hearer with a sense of overwhelming joy. In his notes about the symphony Mahler describes the music as a story of a person who goes through a sense of tremendous despair, of feeling totally cut off from God but who finally experiences the last judgement as follows: 'In wondrous light the glory of God appears and behold! there is no judgement, there are no sinners, no righteous ones, no punishment, no rewards, only an overwhelming love.'

15/11/09 – Steven Saxby.

Sun 8th Nov’ 2009 - Remembrance Sunday,
St Barnabas, Walthamstow

Let us pray that the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts may be acceptable in the sight of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today is Remembrance Sunday and my message for today is this: we come to remember the past - but it is also important that we recall what is going on in the present AND that we remember for the future.

First then, we come today to remember all those who have died in past wars, especially - as is our responsibility - to remember those who died in the service of this country. We are reminded again of the powerful image of the fields of blood which became fields full of poppies. We engage in our Remembrance Day ceremonies on the Sunday closest to Armistice Day, the day on which the First World War came to an end. We remember service men and women who have died in the World Wars but also in more recent conflicts involving this country. We try to remain aware of the sheer horror of war, the terrible suffering endured by those on the front line. Our gospel today was about sacrifice and today we try to honour the sacrifice made by those who died in the service of others. And this is, of course, a difficult task: difficult for those of us too young to remember past conflicts; painfully difficult for those who have served in War and bring their own memories of friends and comrades lost in action. It is important that we keep the traditional two minute silence, as we shall be doing close to 11 o clock - for keeping silence reminds us that no words can do justice to the horrors endured in war, the magnitude of lives taken, the pain felt by those who mourn loved-ones. All we can do in the face of such vast human suffering is to keep silence and each year to renew our pledge - “we will remember them”.

We come to remember the past, but we also come acutely aware of the present, to remember that, even as we gather here, our country is engaged in War and that British forces, mostly young men and women from working class communities in this country, are on the front line in Afghanistan risking their lives in the service of this country. We know that hundreds of British service personnel have died in Afghanistan and Iraq in recent years, several even in recent days, another today, and we must remember them. And we know too that hundreds and thousands of men and women have died in Iraq, in Afghanistan, in Lebanon, in Palestine – most of them civilians, many of them children – and we must remember them too. I grew up in what we used to call “peace time”; my children are growing up seeing images of people dying in conflicts around the world, hearing news of British service men and women being killed on an almost daily basis. And then we wonder that so many young people are engaged in their own violence of the streets. Today’s children are growing up being told that we are all involved in a global “war on terror”. This is particular poignant for us here in Waltham Forest where three people, one from this neighbourhood, were convicted of plotting to blow up aeroplanes in the most high profile terrorist trial this country has ever seen. It is fitting that we gather today as a very diverse group of people. In previous years I have sometimes led the Remembrance Sunday service at Walthamstow Town Hall and there we have gathered from different faith communities – Christian, Jewish, Muslim -, different branches of the Christian family, different countries. I have gathered with people, some of whom come from countries even today torn apart by violence, as will be true for some of you here. And it is important today that we stand together, united in our diversity, to say together that we do not want violence whether here or abroad to play any part in dividing us as individuals, dividing our communities, dividing the countries with which we have associations. As we gather here we somehow need to hold together the painful truth that however well we may relate to each other locally, we live in a world torn apart by violence. And at the same time, we owe it to those serving abroad and all caught up in conflict to say that “we will remember them”

We gather to remember the past and with an awareness of the present. It is important also that we remember for the future. There lies at the heart of our remembrance a paradox, the paradox that we come to remember war but that our aim is to strive for peace, for a world where violence is a thing of the past. The Christian tradition is very clear about this. God created a world at peace; violence is a consequence of human rejection of God. As the Bible tells is, it was only after Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden that violence came into the world. Indeed the first story after the fall is the story of the first violence, of Cain killing his brother Abel. Violence is a consequence of sin and this is a message that runs all through the scriptures Christians regard as holy. The Prophet Isaiah gives us a picture of future peace when he says: “God will settle disputes among great nations. They will hammer their swords into ploughs and their spears into pruning-knives. Nations will never again go to war.” And for Christians Jesus is the Prince of Peace foretold by Isaiah. Jesus himself said “Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the children of God”. For Christians Jesus choosing the path of death on the cross rather than the path of rebellion against the oppressive Roman government of his day, this path of peace sets the pattern for Christian engagement within the world. Violence is a consequence of sin and if throughout human history some wars have seemed necessary from a Christian point of view, which they clearly have, then it is only as a lesser of two evils that war can be judged to have been necessary. War in itself is never good, it does not reveal God’s intention or promises for his creation, it is only ever a consequence of a world that groans in sin and waits in eagerness for the fulfilment of God’s promise of peace. Some years ago I joined an organisation called the Movement of the Abolition of War. At first the idea struck me as naive. So often we are led to believe that war is part of human nature, that it is a permanent part of the human condition. But why should war be a permanent feature of human society? Why shouldn’t we strive for a world without war? If we believe that war is a consequence of sin, that it is a feature of human beings turning away from God, that it does not express what God intended for his creation – then it is totally consistent with our ideals that Christians should strive for the total abolition of war. War is comparable to slavery, it is a consequence of a world gone wrong. There is no justification for the glorification of war or the remembrance of war for its own sake. Christian remembrance is always remembrance for the future, for a future which God promises will be a future of peace, a future in which war will indeed be no more.

We remember the past, we recall the present and we remember for the future. I want to make a final point about the National Anthem. We did not sing the National Anthem at the beginning of today’s service as has been the tradition here in past years but we shall be singing it soon as part of our remembrance liturgy. Singing the National Anthem represents our identification with the country in which we live and of which we, despite our countries or origin, are citizens. Our identification with this country takes our responsibilities for this country seriously, including our responsibilities to critique and seek to change those aspects of our national life which are less than ideal. When thousands of people marched in protest at the war in Iraq they were exercising their responsibilities as citizens to call our government to account, even, in the end, if it failed to listen. The third verse of the National Anthem, rarely sung, says of the Queen “may she defend our laws and ever give us cause to sing with heart and voice, God save the Queen”. It expresses the sentiment that the Queen shares with us in the responsibility of making sure this country does what is proper. So our identification with this nation, expressed in the singing of the national anthem, is part of the process whereby we remember for the future. It is a reminder of our responsibilities to ensure that this nation is called to account and of our commitment that it should be an expression of God’s ways of justice and peace. And singing it in no way diminishes our commitment to other countries nor to our concern for the whole world. The best nationalism is expressed in the context of internationalism where what we desire for this nation is in harmony with what is best for the world. And we should note that as well as the national anthem we are also singing Jerusalem today, a song very much associated with traditions of internationalism in this country.

And so, as we prepare to engage in the traditions of Remembrance Sunday, as we remember the horrors of war in the past, let us also be acutely aware the horrors of war today and let us commit ourselves, as citizens of this country, to make the whole world a world of peace and justice.

SS - Sunday 8th November 2009.

Sunday 1st November 2009, St Barnabas, Walthamstow
Bereavement Sunday

We are keeping today as Bereavement Sunday, a day to remember those we have known who have gone before us, our loved ones who have died.

This is an opportunity for us to give space for people of all ages to remember those they have lost.

So I invite us to hold before us three visual images this morning, images that I hope will help us to think of the lives of those we are remembering today, to bring our own emotions to God and through our sadness to think of the wonderful promise we are given by God of eternal life for us and our loved ones.

The first image is of the Book of Names. In the Bible we read in several places that there is such a book, a book with the names of those special to God, sometimes called the Book of Life. Let’s just take one example. If we turn to the opening chapters of the Book of Revelation and the letters in the book written to the seven churches of Asia. From one of these letters, to the church in Sardis, we learn that most of the believers there have really fallen away from God, but that a few, if we look at Ch 3 verse 4 are close to God and that these “will walk with God, dressed in white, for they are worthy”. And then we see the words “I will never blot out their names from the book of life”.

What this tells us is that God values the names of those who follow him, that they are recorded in a Book of Life. And I think this is good for us to know as the recording of names of those who have died is something we do in the life of the church. If we think about it, we are surrounded by the names of the dead here at St Barnabas – on the memorial monuments inside the church. We will be reading out a list of names soon. We won’t have known all the people whose names are to be read out. But there is something comforting about hearing the name of those we have lost, as well as all those other names we do not know. The recording of a name shows that every individual life matters. Some churches have a Book of Remembrance and perhaps that is something we could consider here. God records names himself in the Book of Life because every one matters to him and we show that all the folk we mention today matter to us and to God by reading out their names.

The second visual image I am putting before us is that of our hearts. Our hearts are a powerful symbol of our feelings and so much more. And I’ve got some more small hearts today which I am going to ask the children to give out to folk now. When we loose a loved one it is our heart that really feels the pain. The Bible recognises this. If we look at John 14, very often read at funerals, verse 1 we find “do not let your hearts be troubled”. Jesus is talking about his own death and comforts his disciples by saying he will go before them and prepare a place for them, for his father’s house has many rooms. Of course our hearts are troubled when we loose someone, but the heart is also the place where healing takes place. It is in the heart that we carry our most precious thoughts and memories of those we have lost. So I’ve given them out today not so we can lift them up to God as we did before, but so that we can offer them to God, I’ll ask the children to collect them during the offertory hymn, offering to God all those precious thoughts and memories of those we remember today, those who continue to dwell in our hearts.

And the final visual image for today relates to hope and is the image of the candle. The candle really is a symbol of hope and hope is something special that the Christian has even in the midst of the most terrible things in life, including the loss of those we love. Our first reading today comes from St Paul’s first letter to the church of the Thessalonians, a short letter but one that mentions hope a number of times. We see that as early as Ch 1, verse 3, Paul is giving thanks for the endurance of that church, inspired by the hope they have in Christ. In Ch 2, verse 19 he says what is our hope, our joy, in ch 5, verse 8 he talks of putting on the hope of salvation and in ch 4, v 13, we have the reference to hope from our reading today. “Brothers and sisters”, Paul says, “we not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you may grieve like the rest, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him.”

Now here is a key message for us – we are to have hope that those who have died will rise again with Christ at the last day. Today, as we recall with sadness those we have lost, we can also look forward in hope and joy to them rising again with Christ. Today, we can light a candle, a symbol of hope, to express our hope and belief that those we remember are not gone for ever, but will indeed rise again with Christ.

The recalling of names, our hearts, the candle of hope – all symbols we can use today to remind us that all those we remember are special to God, that our precious memories can be offered to him, and that we can all have hope that we and those we have loved will all one day be united in eternal life with God.

May Christ, who comforts us in all our tribulations, support you in all your trial and bring you all peace. My he, who wept at the grave of Lazarus, be your comforter and wipe away all tears from your eyes. May the almighty God bless you and keep you in all his care; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Steven Saxby – 1st November 2009.

11th Oct 2009-09 – St Barnabas, Walthamstow
Immigration and the church


Our Gospel reading this morning has within it a very challenging saying. Jesus says, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven.” This saying has been interpreted in many different ways over the years. Some say Jesus was being literal, that rich people will really not enter the kingdom of heaven. But then we know Jesus spent time with rich people and enjoyed their hospitality, that rich people were counted among his disciples. Others say it was specifically addressed to the rich young ruler in the passage, since he was so attached to his wealth, something all of us should seek to avoid. Some have said there was a slim gate in Jerusalem, known as the needle, which you could just about squeeze a camel through if you tried hard enough. And still others, and this is how I intend to take the text today, have said this is an example of Jesus stressing his preference for the poor and not only the poor but any who are marginalised within society.

With this in mind I want to focus this morning on the topic of immigration and the church. Immigrants are very often among the most poor and excluded in our society and hence they are some of the very people Jesus encouraged his followers to be sure to support.

There are three aspects I invite you to consider as we think about immigration and the church. The first is about how we respond to immigrants. The second is about how we respond as immigrants. The third is the application of all this to our church life here at St Barnabas. To help us reflect on these three aspects, I shall invite you to join me in a Biblical reflection, to see what the Bible teaches us on these matters.

The Book of Deuteronomy 10:17-19 reminds the Israelites that they were once exiles in a foreign land and therefore that they should have a special care for sojourners in their midst:
'The Lord your God is God of Gods and Lord of lords, the great, the mighty, and terrible God, who is not partial and takes no bribe. He executes justice for the fatherless and the widow, and loves the sojourner giving food and clothing. Love the sojourner therefore; for you were sojourners in the land of Egypt.'
In other words, the Bible recognizes that the sojourner, the immigrant is very often someone excluded from society. Of course, people emigrate for all sorts of reasons. Over the last few years large numbers of foreigners have settled in a certain area. They refuse to speak the native language. They are living in ghettos where they only consume food and drink from their home country. Thousands have settled there, displacing the local population. You know where I mean don’t you? I am, of course, talking about the thousands of English people who have settled in Southern Spain! Why do they go there - to escape the English weather! Clearly no one moves to the UK for the weather but people come for all sorts of reasons. Many come as economic migrants, seeking better opportunities here for themselves and their families. Much is being made in the media now of Eastern Europeans coming to the UK, and not least to Walthamstow, for this very reason. And many come here from Africa and elsewhere for similar reasons, often escaping desperate poverty, for which countries like the UK must bear some responsibility. The UK’s foreign policy, its economic interference, its sale of arms has contributed to devastation in many a country. Still, the numbers of people leaving those countries for the UK is tiny and we should not complain when people seek refuge here for problems the UK has in part created abroad.
Whether someone comes here as an economic migrant or political refugee, the response to immigrants is often the same – they are treated as outcasts in their new country. But the Bible is clear, we must have special care for the exiles in our midst AND those who have been exiles must remember that they too must show care this care for others. Today this means we must care for the immigrant AND those who have come here as immigrants must show this care for others who arrive here. Those of you who have come here from Africa, the Caribbean, the Philippines and elsewhere, who have been here a while, must also show care for those newly arriving from your own countries and those who are arriving here today from Eastern Europe, the former Soviet Union and many other countries.
The Bible is very clear about this. Time and time again, the prophets remind us of the need to care for the excluded and this includes the exile, what today we can think of as the immigrant. So in Jeremiah 22:3 we read, 'Thus says the Lord: Do justice and righteousness, … and do no wrong or violence to the alien, the fatherless and the widow.' (Jer 22:3)
This special concern for the excluded is echoed by Jesus. Take Matthew 25: If we are to enter into the kingdom of heaven we must serve those who are excluded. Matthew 25: 37 onwards reads: ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink…. To verse 43’ We could add today, I was an immigrant and you did not show me special care !
The Bible is clear, the stranger in our midst is to be welcomed. The immigrant today is someone who is often excluded, often persecuted, often despised – and our task as Christians is to show the love of Christ.
I want us draw your attention to some more of Jesus’ teaching on immigration. For this I have prepared a handout for you to take home. It was prepared sometime ago by the Newham Churches Immigration Support Group. I was born in Newham and my first post after ordination was in East Ham. I was involved there in the Newham Churches Immigration Support Group which supported people in all sorts of ways. It began when a lady called Marion, who had been in the UK for ten years, received an unexpected visit one morning by the police to be told she was an illegal immigrant and that she must leave the country. She was taken to Holloway Prison. Her pastor spoke to other pastors about Marion’s situation and a group was formed to support her. She came from Sierra Leone where her father had been a Member of Parliament and died as a result of political troubles in the country. Marion received a lot of support, not least because she had been in the country so long and because she was involved in the church and community. Later I was involved in supporting a Hindu man from Bangladesh called Narayan. He had been in this country for 18 years and come here after being tortured by the police in Bangladesh for his involvement in a Hindu political party. With Marion and Narayan and many others, the Newham Immigration Support Group wrote letters of support to the Home Office and they got other people - MPs, pastors, bishops and others - to support those facing unjust deportation. We involved the press, organized petitions, helped people find suitable legal representation. We sat in court while cases were being heard and they made preparations for people to receive sanctuary from Christian communities. All these actions led to many people feeling that they were not alone when facing deportation and, for the most part, those the group supported were able to remain in the UK. Both Marion and Narayan lost their cases but when the cases went to appeal in the High Court, the judge ruled that the Home Office had been unfair and ordered that they should be permitted to remain in this country. They remain here and active in the community: the last time I spoke to Narayan, who now works for the Ministry of Defence, he was about to become a British Citizen!
So that group, the Newham Churches Immigration Support Group, made up of ordinary Christians , is an inspiration for churches which respond to Jesus’ concern for the excluded and choose to help immigrants facing difficulties, especially those facing unjust deportation.
Back to the handout which asks 8 simple and common questions and shows us, in response to each question, that Jesus would have us show concern for immigrants? It begins with the passage from Matthew 25 I quoted earlier and it ends with this marvelous passage from Acts 17: 24-28: Please take the handout home with you and use it for your own Biblical reflection on this topic of immigration and the church.
I said earlier that we must consider three aspects of immigration and the church. Mostly I have spoken about the first, our response to immigrants but I now I come to the second, our response as immigrants. Now I am not an immigrant, I was born in the UK and have lived here all my life. But many of you here today are immigrants so what is your responsibility as immigrants in relation to the host community here? From time to time I am asked to speak as a special guest at ceremonies where immigrants become new British Citizens. There are the three things I say to these new Citizens but these can apply as well to those who are here as resident immigrants.

First, I say to them “cherish your own cultural background”. At the last ceremony there were people from South Africa, the Philippines, Angola, Turkey, Sri Lanka, Nigeria, Ghana, Somalia and Algeria. They were about to become British, but their cultural background remains essential to who they are and to what you have to contribute to British society. This is so even for those who are born in Britain, whether English, Scottish or Welsh, whether they are of second, third or fourth generation of Caribbean or African or Asian or Irish descent, whether they seem thoroughly English on the surface but have, as in my case, English, Irish, Welsh and Gypsy blood. Last time I was a guest of honour with my dear friend and colleague from the Waltham Forest Faith Communities Forum, Mr Hansa. He came as an Indian immigrant to the UK in 1962 and became a British citizen in 1968 (before I was born). So he has been British longer than I have. But he and I are as British as each other: for Britain is by its very nature a nation of immigrants, a mixture of many cultures, each of which makes a unique and important contribution to our society.

Second, I encourage the new citizens to commit themselves to this country. By this I mean that I implore them to take an active role in British society and, of course, you don’t need to be a British Citizen to do that. I tell these new citizens that they are becoming trustees of all that is good about British society – and there is much that is indeed very good – but that they will also become rightful critics of all that is bad about this society – for there are plenty of things that are bad about it too. No human society is a perfect society and every society requires those who will engage in active citizenship to ensure that it preserves the good and seeks to eliminate the bad.

And finally, I encourage the new citizens to aspire to values that are above those of any particular background and above any commitment to the society of which they are becoming citizens. These people come from different faiths but I tell them that in our faith, we have a scripture that says “we are citizens of heaven.”, Ephesians 2 v 19. Now this does not mean that our faith discourages commitment to earthly citizenship ; far from it. It is simply a reminder that we take inspiration from another home and that the values of that other place, values which are higher and better than anything earth can deliver, values that motivate us to make our earthly home a better place to be.

So they are the three things I say to new British Citizens and would say to any immigrant – share your culture, commit yourself to life here and aspire to the values of your faith!

But finally, I promised some comments on how this topic of immigration and faith relates to our life here at St Barnabas. And the first thing to recognise, of course, is that we are very fortunate to be a church congregation where a large number of us are immigrants. Secondly, as we celebrate this we need also to be sensitive to the situation of immigrants in our midst. None of us here is rich, but some of us are much poorer than others. Many are here as migrant workers, sometime working without papers and receiving very low incomes, sometime much lower than the minimum wage. What little some earn is sent back to their home countries. So in all our church activities we need to be sensitive to not asking people for money they cannot afford. If we are to be a church where none are excluded, we need to relaxed about money while at the same time recognising how much we benefit from other ways in which people are more than generous, not least in donating their food, time and labour. And the final thing I want to say and to emphasise very strongly is that if we are to be a church for all we must be a church where immigrants, not least those whose immigration status is not settled (including overstayers) feel welcome and safe. Although the Church of England is close to the government, we are not an arm of the government and certainly not here to do their work for them on immigration issues. The church is a place where, whatever our immigration status, we should feel safe and supported and I hope we can do more in this church to strengthen our support for immigrants.

Jesus had a preference for the excluded – let us be sure to follow his example as we support and celebrate the presence of immigrants here in this church and in our wider community.

SS – Oct 2009.
Sunday 27th Sept 2009 St Barnabas, Walthamstow

Mk 9 - Salt

You may have noticed that I read an extra verse of Mark as part of our gospel reading this morning. Instead of stopping at Mark 9, verse 49 as in the Roman Missal, I read to the end of verse 50 as in the Church of England lectionary. I read on because when I looked at the readings earlier in the week, I found myself very compelled by that verse and its mention of salt.

The part I found particularly intriguing was when Jesus says: ‘Salt is good, but if salt has lost its saltiness...’ - some translations read ‘savor’ or ‘taste’, - ‘...if salt has lost its saltiness, how will you season it?’

Let’s start with the easy part: ‘Salt is good.’ Clearly salt is good to the taste. It’s in one of Kipling’s short stories that a character says, ‘Being kissed by a man who didn’t wax his moustache was like eating an egg without salt.’ [Big Mamma, The Gadsbys.] And I guess most of us enjoy putting salt on certain foods. Of course anything in excess can be bad for us and we all aware that consumption of far too much salt in unhealthy and one of the major courses of heart disease in this country. But salt in moderation, like most things, is good. The thing is that a lot of food is cooked with salt and most processed food already contains enough salt so that putting anything more than a little bit of salt on our food once it is cooked is quite unnecessary. But salt is one of the basic tastes and to cook certain foods without salt is a bad idea. Here’s a story that makes the point very well, the story – some of you may know it – of the Salt Princess.

An old king has three daughters, and decides to divide his kingdom among them based on how much they love him. Daughter 1 says she loves him more than her finest silk gowns. Pleased, he gives her 1/3 of his kingdom. Daughter 2 says she loves him more than her diamond bracelets, her ruby rings, her golden crown. Even more pleased, he gives her 1/3 of his kingdom.

Daughter 3 is his youngest and favorite daughter. She says, "Father, I love you more than I love salt."

The king pitches a fit. "Salt? You love me only as much as you love salt? Fine! Salt is all you love, then salt is all you shall have!" He loads her up with a sack of salt on her back and gives her the boot.

She wanders to another kingdom and finds work as a scullery maid in a castle. Because she is so good and beautiful and because it's a fairy tale, the prince falls in love with her and asks her to marry him. Meanwhile, the two shallow sisters back home split the kingdom between themselves and throw their lame duck dad out on his ass. Now a homeless beggar, the former king wanders to the other kingdom and happens to stumble in just as the wedding celebration, open to all, is getting underway.

His daughter recognizes him right away, and sneaks off to the kitchen. She orders the entire wedding feast be prepared....without salt.

Everyone sits down to feast. Soon they're gagging and spitting and grumbling. "There's something wrong with this soup!" "This soup is terrible!" "It's so bland!"

As soon as the beggar king tastes his soup, he realizes what is missing, and tears well up in his eyes. Then he realizes how cruel he was to his poor youngest daughter, who really did love him best...as much as she loved salt.

Fortunately, she's lurking nearby. She explains that her love for him was like salt: although invisible, it was ever-present, an underlying essential ingredient, and without it her life lacked all savor and joy. She could no more imagine living without love for him than she could imagine eating soup without salt.

Salt is good to the taste. But in Jesus’ day it was much more than just a matter of taste. Salt was essential for health. Salt was used as a preservative, not least for meat, something I guess many of you here are familiar with from back home.

Salt was also highly symbolic in Jesus’ day. Jesus would have been very aware of the Old Testament concept of the Covenant of Salt. Those who ate the salt of the King, owed him their allegiance. Those who salt with friends were tied together by their bond of friendship. Covenant meals, involving the symbolic use of salt, were part of Jewish culture. In everyday contexts salt was used as a symbol of hospitality. Newborn babies were rubbed with salt to promote good health.

‘Salt is good’ – that part of Jesus’ teaching is easy to understand. But what of his next phrase, ‘if salt loses its saltiness, how will you season it?’ I found this such an intriguing verse and asked lots of people the question, ‘How does salt lose its saltiness?’ Have you ever heard of salt losing its savor, losing its taste? Well, you can imagine that I got lots of interesting answers. Someone said, if you taste too much of anything you will, after a while, cease to taste it. I guess that is why some people put so much salt on their food. Is this what Jesus meant? I am not convinced. A number of people said that Jesus was talking metaphorically, telling a parable, and therefore that we are not supposed to take him seriously. After all, said a number of people, including chemists, salt is a chemical compound, if it loses its saltiness it is no longer salt – in other words you cannot really have salt that isn’t salty and Jesus is using this as an analogy to talk about something else. Now clearly Jesus is making the point about salt to illustrate a point about something else, and I will come to that in a little while. But, something kept nagging me about Jesus’ saying – I wasn’t convinced that he was just being funny or cryptic; I sensed that Jesus was being literal, saying that salt can actually lose its saltiness. And I thought this, not least, because in Matthew’s gospel, where we also find this phrase, another phrase is added. In Matthew 5.13, Jesus says to the disciples, ‘You are salt of the earth. But if salt loses its taste how can it be seasoned.’ And then, he says, clearly speaking literally, ‘It is no longer good for anything but to be thrown out and trampled underfoot.’

Puzzled? I was! That is until my Biblical scholar friends came to the rescue and left me wondering why on earth I didn’t pick this one up through all my years of theological study. Salt, as we know it, is a chemical compound. It cannot lose its saltiness. It is either pure salt or it is not salt. But salt, as Jesus knew it, was different. It was, after all, salt from the Dead Sea, once known as the Salt Sea. This is the sea famous for being so full of salt that you can float in it – and indeed I have been to the Dead Sea and done just that. Salt from this source is not pure, but mixed with other minerals and it is quite possible for this salt, especially if kept in damp conditions, to lose its saltiness: puzzle solved! Or is it?

Salt is good. We understand that. Salt can lose its saltiness. OK, not the salt we are familiar with in the UK today but the kind of impure salt known to Jesus and used in many parts of the world today, that salt can lose its saltiness. If it loses its saltiness, it becomes useless, no good for anything other than trampling under the foot, an indication that spoilt salt, as we know from other sources, was used on pathways. So, that is what Jesus said about salt, but why did he say it? What was the point he was really trying to make by using this analogy about salt?

Well it seems there is not a straight forward answer to this one either, at least not in the context of Mark’s gospel. In Matthew’s gospel, it is clear that he is addressing the disciples. He describes them as “salt of the earth”. What they have, their faith in him perhaps, maybe their inherent value, whatever it is, they are to preserve. But scholars have been a bit more cynical about the placing of this verse in Mark’s gospel. Many scholars have suggested, and maybe this is why the Roman Missal leaves this verse off today’s reading, that verse 50 is simply a grouping together of Jesus’ sayings with nothing more in common than the mention of salt. We have been looking at the second of these but there are two more in Mark 9, verse 50.

Certainly the first of these seems to follow from verse 49. Jesus is talking about not being corrupted by sin. He speaks in very graphic language, and here it is hard to believe that he is really being literal. If your hand causes you to sin, he says, cut it off. If your eye, then pluck it out. ‘It is better to enter the Kingdom of Heaven with one eye than with two eyes to be thrown into hell, where their worm does not die, and the fire is not quenched.’ And then we have the verse, ‘For everyone will be salted with fire’. The salting with fire part, clearly relates to the previous verses. The salting in hell – the word for hell used here is literally Gehenna, a waste ground used for burial outside of Jerusalem – the salting there is either a kind or punishment whereby the dead are preserved for everlasting damnation or a kind of purification, whereby they are restored to God. However we interpret it, the reference to salting in fire relates to the pervious section.

But then the scholars argue, Mark has taken two other sayings from Jesus about salt and put them here just because they all mention salt. ‘Salting with fire is the first’, ‘Salt is good, but if salt loses its saltiness’ is the second and the third is ‘Have salt in yourselves and be at peace with one another’.

Now I am no Biblical scholar, but it seems to me that there is some unity to all of these sayings after all. If we go right back to the start of today’s gospel, Jesus is talking about faith in God. He tells the disciples that the one healing in his name is not to be rebuked, because he was acting out of faith in God. Then he talks about remaining faithful to God, not becoming corrupted by sin, and it is here he uses the graphic language about keeping pure from sin, staying away from that which would corrupt our faith, graphically illustrated by his image of cutting of our hands or plucking out our eyes if they cause us to sin. What is the salt we need to preserve? It is our faith. And how are we to preserve it? In two ways: by keeping this faith, this salt within us, not least by being at peace with one another.

Biblical scholars are indispensible. They help us at times to understand passages from the Bible which might otherwise seem obscure. Today’s passage is a great example of their value in understanding that Jesus was not talking about the pure chemical salt that we know, but the impure salt from the Dead Sea, salt which could indeed lose its saltiness. But Biblical Scholars can sometimes over analyze the Bible and their negativity about Mark 9, verse 50 as no more than a collection of sayings about salt seems to be a good example of this. Think of faith in God as the common factor and we can surely do no better than to echo the words of Jesus himself:

47And if your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out. It is better for you to enter the kingdom of God with one eye than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell, 48where
" 'their worm does not die,
and the fire is not quenched.'[e] 49Everyone will be salted with fire.
50"Salt is good, but if it loses its saltiness, how can you make it salty again? Have salt in yourselves, and be at peace with each other."

END. Steven Saxby, Sept 09.

Sunday 20th Sept 2009 St Barnabas, Walthamstow

Mk 9 - Children

My reflection today flows from Jesus’ words in our gospel reading about a little child. I am going to read them again, together with two other similar and familiar sayings of Jesus:

‘Jesus then took a little child, set him in front of them, put his arms around him, and said to the disciples, “Anyone who welcomes one of these little in my name welcomes me, and anyone who welcomes me welcomes not only me but the one who sent me.”.

“Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever takes a humble place – becoming like this child – is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me.”

“Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.”

I am going to offer three thoughts on these passages, then make some remarks about our welcome of children here at St Barnabas, then finish with a story about the very beginnings of this church.

My first thought on those gospel passages is that we see Jesus demonstrating in a very simple and powerful way his preference for the vulnerable. He seems frustrated and angry with his disciples. Here they are again, arguing among themselves about which of them is the greatest! And what a shock and a lesson it must have been to them when Jesus took a child, set the child in front of them and told them they had to become like the child. How embarrassed they must have been when he told them off for trying to stop the children getting to him. Let them come, says Jesus, but not only that – the kingdom of heaven, he says, belongs to such as these. Time and time again in his ministry, Jesus demonstrates that he not only cares for the vulnerable but that the way of the vulnerable, the way of peace, is the way to the kingdom of heaven and not the way of the great and powerful. The two most central images of Jesus are the tiny vulnerable baby in the manger and the dying vulnerable Christ on the cross. Isn’t it something that the great God we worship, is a God we also adore himself as a tiny child! We’ll have more of that at Christmas. But the point is, Jesus favours the way of the vulnerable and in setting a child before his disciples and letting the children come to him, he dramatically rebukes his disciples for all their pride and jostling for greatness!
My second thought is that God really is an all age God! Every person matters to Jesus, no matter his or her age. We see Jesus interacting with all age groups, we celebrate his life as a baby and a child, see him welcomed in the Temple by the elderly Simeon and Anna. Yesterday we had a deanery synod in which we focused on ministry by, for and with older people and one of the speakers said there is nothing dishonourable about being old, not least because God is himself very old indeed. Age is not the issue. Too often people are dismissed because of their age, whether they are too young or too old. But Jesus sees the person, the older person and the young child, not seen for their age but for their humanity. Jesus welcomes the children because he welcomes all people!

And my third thought is that Jesus nevertheless does state, in a very clear and uncompromising way, that children possess something in regard to faith that adults need to re-gain! We should remember, of course, that every adult started out in life as a child! And I have always loved the phrase “there is a child in every one of us”. But what is it that we lose as adults, which Jesus says we need to re-gain? Is it trust? Is it simplicity? Is it wonder? Is it raw emotion, deep sadness or pure joy in response to the things we see around us? I suspect it is all of these things and more. On the back page of this month’s diocesan newpaper is a little story about our church, showing the artist Henry Shelton with his granddaughter Amy. Henry painted the background and lettering on a painting based on that phrase “let the children come to me”, using words based on the translation from the King James Version “suffer the little children, and forbid them not, to come to me”. He then got his granddaughter to paint the children on the canvass and, of course, she painted them as only a child could. I am pleased it is hanging there for this month in our lady chapel where is stands alongside an image from a former children’s shrine at St Martin-in-the-Fields and near various images of Jesus as a child and of children being welcomed. She came her with her grandfather knowing that some of his paintings would be here but not expecting to see her own. It was truly wonderful to see the joy on her face and, to see that joy reflected also in Henry – there is a child in every one of us, and unless we become, again, like a child, we will never enter the kingdom of heaven.

Those are my three thoughts on the passages. What now of our welcome to children at St Barnabas?

Well the first thing to say, having arrived here fairly recently with five children in tow, is that we are very grateful as a family for the welcome we have received here. Christine and I have been made welcome AND our children have been made very welcome so that is all credit to St Barnabas!

And yet, I guess we can all recognise that there is a quite a bit of work for us to do here on involving children much more in our worship and in the wider life of our church. As a church serving an all age God, we must aspire to providing a welcome and accessible environment to people of all ages, including children of all ages. What facilities can we provide for babies? How can we re-establish the Sunday School? How can we involve children more in the liturgy? Should we have special services where we make an effort to engage the children more? How should we prepare children for first communion and confirmation? What other activities can we provide for children, including children from the wider community? How can we engage with the schools? These are all questions for us to consider, for the PCC to address and for us to decide upon and implement in due course? And they are urgent questions and issues to prioritize if we take seriously Jesus’ words that “anyone who welcomes one of these little children in name welcomes me”.

To end, I promised a story from the very beginnings of this church. It is a beautiful story because it shows that the man, Richard Foster, who funded the building of this church in 1902/03 took Jesus’ words about children seriously. He was a wealthy man, a successful businessman and in his 80th year when he provided the land and finances for the building of St Barnabas, Walthamstow. Here was a man accustomed to mixing with the great and the good and yet, he had time for and saw the importance of children in the life of the church. So it was that in 1902, before the great ceremony that accompanied the laying of this church’s foundation stone, he organised a ceremony for the children. This was the “cutting the first sods” on the site of the church. Children using a special shovel and small wheelbarrow – still on display in the vestry here – cut the first bits of earth on the ground where this church would be built. Richard Foster himself came to address the children and here are some excerpts from the address he gave.....


Richard Foster who built this church understood Jesus’ message about children. May that inspire us as we continue in the tradition of those before us to respond to those words: “anyone who welcomes one of these little children in my name welcomes me”.

END. Steven Saxby, Sept 09.

Sunday 13th Sept 2009 St Barnabas, Walthamstow

Mk 8: 27-35 - Holy Cross

In today’s Gospel reading Jesus says, “If anyone wants to be a follower of mine, let him renounce himself and take up his cross and follow me”; today we are in our second week of displaying our temporary Stations of the Cross; and tomorrow is Holy Cross Day. So, I imagine you’ve guessed by now that I am taking the cross as the theme of today’s sermon. And I want, in particular, to encourage us all to think about how we engage with the cross in our lives.

Let us first call to mind some words from a great hymn: “Lift High the Cross, the love of Christ proclaim, till all the world adore His sacred Name.”

Those words hymn capture the meaning of tomorrow’s feast, Holy Cross Day. The story goes that it was St Helena, the mother of the Roman emperor Constantine, who was responsible for finding the relics of the cross on which Jesus died. Helena was a fascinating person. English historians have claimed she was born in Colchester, but it is more widely believed that she was born in Bithynia, in modern day Turkey. She became a Christian in her 60s after she was divorced by her husband the emperor Constantius Chlorus. She soon became a very devout woman and was known for her simple life, her extensive giving to the poor and her pilgrimages to Jerusalem. Her influence on her son Constantine should not be underestimated. His eventual conversion to Christianity was, of course, to radically alter the development of Christianity as it became the religion of the empire and spread rapidly thereafter throughout the Europe, North Africa and Asia Minor. Constantine sought to build a basilica on the site of the Holy Sepulchre. This has been a site of Christian devotion but was later covered with earth and had even housed a Temple of Venus. And it was during the excavations for Constantine’s large church on the site that Helena is said to have found the relics of the true cross in the year 335.

This is how the writer Theodoret (died c. 457) in his Ecclesiastical History Chapter xvii gives what had become the standard version of the finding of the True Cross:
When the empress beheld the place where the Saviour suffered, she immediately ordered the idolatrous temple, which had been there erected, to be destroyed, and the very earth on which it stood to be removed. When the tomb, which had been so long concealed, was discovered, three crosses were seen buried near the Lord's sepulchre. All held it as certain that one of these crosses was that of our Lord Jesus Christ, and that the other two were those of the thieves who were crucified with Him. Yet they could not discern to which of the three the Body of the Lord had been brought nigh, and which had received the outpouring of His precious Blood. But the wise and holy Macarius, the president of the city, resolved this question in the following manner. He caused a lady of rank, who had been long suffering from disease, to be touched by each of the crosses, with earnest prayer, and thus discerned the virtue residing in that of the Saviour. For the instant this cross was brought near the lady, it expelled the sore disease, and made her whole.

The cross was later removed and even later rescued from Persians in 628 when it was then restored to Jerusalem. Holy Cross Day commemorates that return and exaltation of the cross. The day on which the cross was lifted up for adoration: Lift High the Cross. There is another aspect to the legend of the True Cross worth sharing and it is that the Cross came from the a seed which was part of the Tree of Life which stood in the garden of Eden. The Legend states that the wood of the True Cross came from a seed of the Tree of Life which grew in the Garden of Eden. When Adam lay dying, he begged his son Seth to go to the Archangel Michael and beg for a seed from the Tree of Life. As he died, the seed was placed in Adam's mouth and was buried with him. The seed grew into a tree and emerged from his mouth.
After many centuries the tree was cut down and the wood used to build a bridge over which the Queen of Sheba passed, on her journey to meet King Solomon. So struck was she by the portent contained in the timber of the bridge that she fell on her knees and worshipped it. On her visit to Solomon she told him that a piece of wood from the bridge would bring about the replacement of God's Covenant with the Jewish people, by a new order. Solomon, fearing the eventual destruction of his people, had the timber buried. But after fourteen generations, the wood taken from the bridge became the Cross used at the Crucifixion of Jesus.
Last Friday, I went to see a South African production of the Mysteries. Little scenery was used but one prominent bit of movable scenery was a large step ladder, first used to represent the throne of God, then the Tree of Life, and later the Cross.

It is strange in some ways to adore the cross. It was, after all, an instrument of torture, used cruelly by the Romans, for the slow and painful execution of criminals. Imagine worshipping a hangman’s noose or an electric chair. But it is, of course, not the cross itself we adore but the fact that Christ died on the cross for the salvation of all. It so happens that there is only a small number of references to the cross in the Bible. Interestingly, Jesus makes reference to the taking up one’s cross and following him, a way of making it clear to his followers that they should expect hardship as a consequence of becoming his disciples. Obviously there are references to the story of Jesus’ death on the cross, including today’s gospel where Jesus talks about taking up our cross and following him.

The notion of taking up the cross is a painful one. In the production I saw, the character playing Jesus screamed in agony as she was forced to lift it. But of course, the cross that cruel instrument of torture, becomes the site on our forgiveness, in looking up to the cross, we see the forgiveness offered to us by Jesus on the cross. In lifting high the cross, we proclaim God’s love and forgiveness for us all. In lifting up the cross, we point others to love of God in Jesus Christ.

So how do we engage with the cross in our lives? How does it help us to worship God and proclaim his love to others? Clearly the cross is a hugely important symbol for so many people in their daily lives. We, like many if you I guess, have a number of crosses on the walls of our house. I once lent a few to someone for a day and the walls, despite other pictures, seemed quite empty afterwards. I was interested that Christine noticed their absence as soon as she returned to the house. The cross serves as a daily reminder for me as a sign of God’s presence with us, of our need to be aware of him in our lives. This is obviously why so many people where a cross for religious reasons. Clearly the cross, for some, is no more than a fashion accessory but many wear the cross as a reminder to themselves and a witness to others of their faith in Jesus Christ. I have never understood the debates on the pros and cons of a cross and a crucifix. Someone told me a little while ago that someone had said something about wanting a cross with a man on, clearly expressing no knowledge of who the man was or what the cross symbolises. But, for Christians, the cross is the symbol of Jesus’ death on the cross and it seems to make no difference to my mind whether the cross is a just a cross without a figure of Jesus or is a crucifix with a representation of Jesus: both encourage us to lift high the cross. Similar could be said for the practice of signing oneself with the cross, helpful to some, not all, as physical way of identifying with the message of the cross. Why not try it if you don’t already, maybe at the start of the service and at the blessing, on the words “Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit”. See if, over time, it helps you in your worship.

In the Franciscan tradition, there is practice, every Friday of Cross Prayers, recognising the tradition that St Francis himself received the stigmata, the wounds of Christ on the cross. The prayers begin with these words “Having in mind St Francis’ devotion to the passion of Christ and looking upon the figure of the crucified, with arms outstretched, let us pray to the Lord”. Participants then kneel, look at a cross and hold out their arms to pray. After a while one is conscious of the weight of one’s arms, another powerful identification with the cross – they end with the blessing “may the life giving cross, be the source of all our joy and peace”.

We have had this temporary display of paintings by Henry Shelton, the 14 Stations of the Cross, around our church. A few times now I have prayed the Stations as I know several here have done. This experience takes us deep into the sorrow and agony of Christ and connects with the pain in our own lives. Yet when I finish the Stations, I feel such a sense of liberation, to think that the way of the Cross I have travelled is the way of my salvation.
We have been considering the exaltation of the cross, but there are times when our spirits are low, when it is hard to look up and glory in the cross in the midst of the difficulties of our lives. These are times, perhaps, when it is easier and more comforting for us to cling to the cross, to the old rugged cross as the song goes. This is the rough old cross that reminds us of the pain and suffering of Christ, that reminds us that what we celebrate in lifting high the cross, is that Jesus has felt human pain and endured unspeakable suffering. I have a holding cross, unusually shaped, to fit a tightly clenched hand – a powerful symbol for those in sorrow and a way to feel Jesus’ comforting presence with us. We can cling to as well as lift high the cross.

Today we celebrate the Cross and share in the church’s history of exalting the cross; we remember Jesus death on the cross as told in the Bible and of how the Bible helps us to recognise the cross as the symbol of God’s love and forgiveness; and we also embrace the cross as a means for us of identifying with Jesus in our prayers and in our daily lives. In good time and bad, let us never cease to lift high the cross.

END. Steven Saxby, Sept 09.

Sermon – 6th September 2009
St Barnabas, Walthamstow, 23rd year, cycle B

This morning I invite you to explore with me three phases that arise from our three lectionary readings. The phrases are “be inclusive”, “be courageous” and “be opened!” I shall say some words about each of these phrases as they arise from our readings as I also encourage us to apply these phrases to our mission and ministry here at St Barnabas.

The first arises from our reading from the letter of St James. We do not find the exact words “Be inclusive” in the text but that it what James is talking about. Those here last week will remember that I preached on this glorious little letter of St James and how valuable it is for us today. I hope some of you will have heeded my advice to read it during the week and if you didn’t please do try to make the time to do so this week. One of the reasons it is so valuable is that it is committed to there being no distinctions within the life of the church. Today’s section of the letter talks about the distinctions that were being made in the church between the richer and the poorer members. James is crystal clear that it is impossible within the life of the church for such distinctions to exist. He says, “do not try to combine faith in Jesus Christ our glorified Lord, with the making of distinctions between classes of people”. James’ message is that all should be included within the life of the church, regardless of their economic status.

How do we apply this text and its message of inclusivity to the life of our church? Well, we might say this is a text that need not apply to us. After all, this is not a church attended by the rich, so there is no question of them lording it over the poorer members, parading their fancy clothes and taking the best seats. On the contrary, I have to say that one of things that attracted me to coming here to St Barnabas was that this is a very inclusive congregation – it includes people of all ages, of various backgrounds, of different ethnicities – and through all of this a vision has been formed of a diverse congregation serving an equally diverse neighbourhood. The phrase “be inclusive” seems ingrained into the life of this congregation and yet being inclusive is always a challenge and requires us always to assess and re-assess our practice as we ask whether we are really providing access, welcome and opportunities for participation to all people. It is fabulous that we are open this and next weekend for the art trail. That is an opportunity to put our inclusivity to the test as we welcome people from the whole community. And our challenge in being inclusive is to be on the lookout, as St James was, for those who are excluded within the context of wider society. Who are the people oppressed, excluded, marginalised, mocked today? What can we do to ensure they have a place within the life of our church? The great strength of being a diverse church already is that we know there can be room for many kinds of different people here, but we must always be alert to whether we are really following the phrase that arises from the letter of St James, “be inclusive”.

The second phrase for us to explore comes from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah and it is “be courageous”! In our text today we have the exhortation “courage”, meaning “be courageous”, sometimes translated as “be strong”. I mentioned last week that James, like Jesus, was soaked in the tradition of the great Old Testament prophets, including Isaiah, and so, like them, had a great concern for the oppressed, the excluded and the suffering. We find that concern in this passage from Isaiah. It is one of those passages where Isaiah gives hope to the people of Israel. Even though he has told them that they will suffer for their sins, that they will lose their land and life as captives (as indeed happened when the Israelites were dragged off into captivity by the Babylonians); Isaiah also reminds the Israelites that there suffering will not last forever and that God will restore Israel to its land and its former glory. And what are among the chief things that God will do when he restores Israel? He will first of all attend to those who are suffering and excluded from society. He will open the eyes of the blind, unseal the ears of the deaf; elsewhere we learn of God’s care and concern for the widows, for orphans, and others who are excluded from and marginalised within wider society. In the context of their suffering and captivity the Israelites are given this promise of things to come, they are to be courageous in the midst of their struggles, knowing that the Lord will deliver them from their oppression and that he will take particular care to restore the marginalised, the oppressed and others who suffer.

“Be courageous”: how do these words apply to us today? Well, it isn’t easy being a Christian community here in Walthamstow in the year 2009. We live in an increasingly secular culture. More and more people have grown up with little or no contact with the church. Many in society are hostile towards Christianity. So it does take courage to be a Christian in today’s world and courage for a congregation to reach out into the community, not least, as in our case, when so many in the community belong to other faith communities. Then of course there is turmoil and debate within the wider church, not least within the Church of England and the Anglican Communion. Much of this has focused on the topic of sexuality and we find ourselves now in a situation where the Church of England, which has for many years been a place of welcome and inclusion for gay and lesbian people – including here at St Barnabas, is now increasingly seen as a church which is intolerant of gay sexuality because of the way the debate is conducted within the wider church. If we are to be an inclusive church, then our welcome surely extends to all, our fellowship wants to embrace all, regardless of their sexuality. Jesus went out of his way to mix with those who were marginalised in his society, including those excluded by others. He mixed with the despised tax-collectors, with women regarded as unrespectable, even with prostitutes, with political extremists. Do we not think that if people had been marginalised then because of their sexuality that Jesus would not have gone out of his way to mix with them, to show that they were to be included as part of his radical message of love? I am so pleased that we have Revd Rowland Jide Macaulay with us this morning. Rowland has been a good friend of our family for many years. And he truly is a man of courage, not least as the person who founded the first church providing an open welcome to gay and lesbian people in Nigeria! I am so pleased he is here, not least because a year ago he had to flee Nigeria after he received death threats related to his leadership of his church, House of Rainbow Ministries. Rowland is currently living just around the corner and this week has been celebrating the 3rd year of House of Rainbow but has had to do so not in Nigeria but here is exile in Walthamstow. His is a wonderful story of courage in the Lord and I pray that we may all learn something from him as he worships here with us at St Barnabas.

“Be inclusive”, “be courageous” and, finally, “be opened”. We find these words “be opened” in our gospel reading today. Jesus heals a man who is deaf and has speech problems. He puts his fingers in his ears and puts spittle on his tongue – thankfully there were no swine flu health restrictions at the time – anyway, he does this and then looks to heaven and says, in Aramaic, “Ephphatha” which means “be opened” and the man was healed. In one sense this is a simple story of Jesus healing a man, as he does countless times in the gospel stories but there are deeper levels to this story as well. On another level it is one of those stories where we see Jesus fulfilling the expectations of a messiah. Isaiah promised that the Lord would unseal the ears of the deaf and here is Jesus doing exactly that. Although Jesus instructs the man to tell know one, he can’t help himself. Like Isaiah predicted, “the tongues of the dumb sing for joy”. Personally, I love that action of the healed man. He cannot contain himself; he wants to tell everyone this exciting news about what has happened to him and to tell everyone about this wonderful Jesus who has healed him. And I wonder when Jesus says “be opened” whether he was only speaking to his tongue and ears and whether he was not also speaking to his heart. So many times in the gospels, it is the faith that people put in Jesus that leads to their healing; the opening of their hearts to Jesus leads to the restoration of their bodies; they are released from their physical suffering by their openness to Jesus as the Son of God.

I hardly need to spell out the relevance of those words “be opened” for our situation here at St Barnabas. Our faith in Jesus, our openness to him and what he can do in our lives is the foundation of all we do as Christians. There is no point in us being here if our life together does not flow from our love for Him. If we know his saving power in our lives, we too will want to sing for joy, sing for joy of his love for us, and tell others what work Jesus can do in their lives if they will be open to him. That is why it is natural that as we welcome others in to our church, we will want to draw them into the faith that inspires us. Our evangelism may be a gentle welcome, a leaflet through the door, a friendly conversation, at times it can be more forthright but it never need be confrontational and above all we must realise that it is by the opening of another person’s heart to Jesus that they will know for themselves what we have come to know and then want to themselves to share it with others. It is easy to lose that first enthusiasm for the Lord, the joy we knew when we were first open to Jesus transforming our lives but that is always the challenge and why we come here every Sunday, to be refreshed, to receive him again in the bread and the wine, to renew our enthusiasm and commitment to share our love of him with others.

It is a challenge, but by the grace of the Holy Spirit may we evermore rise to the challenge here at St Barnabas of responding to those three phrases, “be inclusive”, “be courageous” and “be opened”!

SS/06/09/09