Sunday, December 26, 2021

Guidelines

A Sermon preached on Christmas I, 2021 at St. Augustine’s

Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18

Our December vestry meeting is always a mixture of business and social. Usually, we have dinner together at the Parsonage, but this year the meeting had to be online yet again. But after we had finished discussing business, we had some online social time including a short quiz that Susan had prepared for us. One of the questions was which Gospels contain a nativity or birth story. The correct answer is just two of the four, Matthew and Luke. A nativity play based on Mark’s Gospel would be very short, just 5 minutes of silence followed by a John the Baptist character jumping onto the stage shouting “repent”!

And John’s Gospel just has the prologue we heard this morning. Robert Vukovic made a good case that this could also be considered as a sort of birth story, or even a pre-birth story, as in poetic language it tells us not only about the eternal Word coming into the world, but also about the Word’s pre-existence: but it still does not lend itself to a nativity play. The prologue is, quoting from a commentary, “a hymn, a poetic summary of the whole theology and narrative of the Gospel.”[1] It begins at the very beginning, with creation. “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. …. All things came into being through him” (John 1:1-3) and touches on the fall with the introduction of the darkness of evil into God’s creation – yet which cannot overcome the light of God. We are told that John the Baptist will come first, “as a witness to testify to the light.” (John 1:6-7) The first half of John’s Gospel shows us how Jesus and his teaching is often rejected by many of his own people, especially the religious leaders, and this is summed up with the words “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him.” (John 1:11) And that rejection culminates in Jesus’ death on the cross. But we are also told that some will believe and follow him, with the disciples at their core. They will be given the power to become children of God, and at the very end of the Gospel Jesus will breathe his Spirit of new life into them. The Word became flesh, was “incarnated” we are told, and in this Word made flesh, Jesus Christ, we can know God. It’s all there, all of Jesus’ life and its meaning in these 18 verses that we are given to read and hear before that story begins!

That is not the case with Chidi. We do not know what his life will be like, what experiences he will have, what highs and lows, what challenges and joys. What we do know is that he will grow up in a very loving family. In bringing him her today for baptism, you, his family are doing two things.

Firstly, you are extending and enlarging Chidi’s family. “Holy Baptism is full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ's Body the Church,” and that body is all of us. Chidi already was a child of God but now he is getting us as his brothers and sisters in Christ [and we won’t all fight over his toys!]  We, as his church family, will promise to do all in our power to support him in his life in Christ, however that will turn out.

Secondly you are giving him a set of guidelines for the rest of his life. The promises you make on his behalf, and the Covenant we will all join in saying, are principles for him to use as he makes his way through life, values he can draw on when making decisions. At heart the promises are simple: Renounce all that is evil and bad (not that Chidi has yet had a chance to do anything evil or bad … though his parents may have a different view after a sleepless night). Turn to Christ, trust in him and follow him – his teaching, his life and his love. The famous 2nd century Rabbi Hillel when asked to teach a gentile the whole Torah replied, “That which is despicable to you, do not do to your fellow, this is the whole Torah [Law], and the rest is commentary, go and learn it.”

The Baptismal Covenant is also a sort of commentary, because everything can be summed up in Jesus’s commandment to love God and love our neighbour as ourselves. In a given situation however, we sometimes want more detail – and that is what a commentary is for.

What does our commentary tell us then? First it tells us what to believe in, the God who creates, redeems and sanctifies us. Then it tells us what sort of actions or behaviour follow in from that faith.

To “continue in the apostles' teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers,” is the reminder that relationships and community are at the heart of what we do. We turn to that fellowship, that community, to learn together and from one another, and of course for mutual support – we are family. And we turn to God, to Jesus our guide, in our prayers, commending difficult decisions to him.  

Our commentary – realistically – also assumes that while we will do our very best not to make mistakes, that we still will make them, and tells us that there is always a way back in repenting and returning to the Lord “whenever [we] fall into sin.” This is important as we have a tendency to dig ourselves even deeper into trouble if we have no way out. Well, the promise here is that there is always a way out.

As this is all Good News, we also promise to pass it on to others - by word and example. Whenever we do that, we make the world a little better, a better place to live in, so it’s good for us too.

We have – and you will, Chidi – run into people that we don’t like and that we don’t agree with. But even then, we are called to “seek and serve Christ in all persons.” That does not mean that we have to do something we consider wrong, but that even when we disagree, perhaps even fundamentally, that we express that disagreement in the knowledge that we are all made in the image of God.

Last and certainly not least, Jesus came to establish a kingdom of peace, justice, and righteousness (Isaiah 9:7). If we follow him and obey him, that is also the purpose of our lives, to “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.” I don’t know how that will express itself in your life, for example what organisation or cause you may decide to support or even to call into being. There are as many ways of doing this, as there are people.

As I said, we do not have a prologue to Chidi’s life, no advance summary of his story. But I do know that if he strives to live as we will promise for and with him, and if we all strive to help him, that it will be a godly and a good one.

Amen.



[1] Raymond E. Brown, The Gospel and Epistles of John

Saturday, December 25, 2021

The manger as a danger

A Sermon preached on Christmas Eve, 2021 at St. Augustine’s and Christmas Day at St. Christoph

Isaiah 9:2-7, Titus 2:11-14, Luke 2:1-14

Someone with more rhetorical skills than I have, once coined the phrase “manger danger” to describe this season. He wrote: “One of the problems with Christmas – the ‘manger danger’ – is that it focuses on the harmless, innocent, unthreatening baby, a scene that can arouse little more than affection and admiration.”[1]

And he is right, we can focus a little too much on sweet baby Jesus, on our beautifully decorated Christmas cribs, on cute children in nativity plays, when it is safe to have them again, at the risk of neglecting the circumstances of Christ’s birth and the shadow the Cross of Good Friday is already casting over the scene.

The world into which Christ was born was not sweet and harmless, but messy and dirty and dangerous. His was – to coin a different phrase – “a dangerous manger.” According to tradition, he was born in a barn or stable, and laid in a feeding trough. You can be sure it won’t have been clean or shiny or neat or serene. Israel was occupied by the Romans and run for them by cruel, puppet dictators. If you were poor, you generally stayed poor. Tax collectors and local soldiers resorted to extortion to improve their income and if the local authorities thought you were a threat, you were soon a dead one. According to Matthew’s Gospel, King Herod “sent and killed all the children in and around Bethlehem who were two years old or under” (Matthew 2:15) in a vain attempt to eliminate Jesus. And later Herod’s son, Herod Antipas, had Jesus’ cousin John the Baptist, murdered, and was implicated in Jesus’ own execution. At least as an adult, Jesus was not seen as harmless or unthreatening, on the contrary.

This context for that manger, this dark background to the Christmas story is important, and not because I am determined to spoil your Christmas enjoyment! This is part of the good news of Jesus’ birth. If God came into that world, into a world full of danger and suffering, then that is a reason for hope. It means that God cares about the world and we that we can be sure that God is present in this one today. This time we live in has plenty of dark sides to it as well: right now the Omicron variant of the corona virus is spreading far too rapidly, we have the threat of war not far from us on the Ukrainian/Russian border, where we also find illegally occupied territories and puppet rulers just as in Jesus’ day. Throughout the world, people are still being exploited and those fleeing from persecution, war, terror and just misery are seen as threats and every attempt is made to stop them even applying for protection.

None of this negates God’s presence in the world. Instead, it makes that presence, in Jesus, even more necessary and welcome than before. This world needs hope and reassurance, but also guidance and a way out. That is what the Saviour, who was born among us, the Christ who has always been born among us, the God, who is always with us, stands for. He came to heal what is broken, to “redeem us from all iniquity,” (Titus 2:14), and to save us mainly from ourselves. What is causing the Cross to throw a shadow over the manger, is the light of resurrection, the ultimate good news of victory over all that is bad and evil, including death.

The prophet Isaiah, writing at a very dark time for his people, as Babylon threatened them, and later took and destroyed their capital and the great temple, even he still writes with great hope: “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness-- on them light has shined.”  He looks forward to the event we are looking back on today: “For unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given; And the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” (Isaiah 9:6 KJV)

This is the same promise that the angels give the shepherds, who are understandably a little afraid at the appearance of an angel and the dazzling brightness of the glory of God: "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” (Luke 2:10-11)

God in Jesus not only offers us comfort and light in the darkness. God in Jesus offers us a way forward: “He gave his life to free us from every kind of sin, to cleanse us, and to make us his very own people, totally committed to doing good deeds.” (Titus 2:14 NLT)

And that’s why I think would prefer to talk about the “manger magic” rather than the “manger danger.” The manger, and that “harmless, innocent, unthreatening baby” are a sign of God’s self-giving, coming into the world as a vulnerable human baby:

  • Harmless, because all God wants is our good.
  • Innocent in the true sense of the word as he was “tested as we are, yet without sin.” (Hebrews 4.15)
  • Unthreatening as our God comes to change us not with fear and threats, but as the “grace (gift) of God … bringing salvation to all.” (Titus 2:11)

I certainly hope that we feel affection and admiration for the baby, but also awe, wonder and gratitude. Even – or especially – in dark times, Christmas is a reason for great joy and happiness. And that is where all these lovely decorations, the beautiful carols, and the smiling faces come in, and why they are a proper reaction to Christmas, to the baby in the manger. We have something to celebrate and be happy about. Love and light have come to us, love and light have shone on us, and love and light can change us if we let them, if we take that innocent baby into our hearts, and the adult Jesus’ teaching and example into our lives.

Amen.



[1] Canon J. John, Church of England Evangelist

Sunday, December 19, 2021

The Challenge of Incarnation

 

A Sermon preached on Sunday, December 19, 2021 at St. Augustine’s

Micah 5:2-5a, Hebrews 10:5-10, Luke 1:39-45

My apologies to our Wednesday Bible Study group as they have already heard this illustration! What I said to them … and now to you, is that the Advent Sundays remind me a little of being in a plane coming into land. We began Advent still high up, with the general theme of the coming of God – the Day of the Lord - and all that it will entail, it seemed a long way away. The prophets – this year we heard from Jeremiah, Baruch, Zephaniah, John the Baptist, and Micah – act as beacons, pointing the way to the one promised by God variously called the righteous branch, the king, the shepherd, the one who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire, a new ruler “who will be great to the ends of the earth.” (Micah 5:5a)

But this Advent IV week – especially in the readings from Micah and Luke – we can see clearly where we are headed for, our runway - the stable and its temporary residents are already in view. Micah tells us where to look – to Bethlehem: “from you shall come forth for me (God) one who is to rule in Israel, whose origin is from of old, from ancient days,” (5:2) literally from ever. And Luke tells us who will be there to bring forth this ruler, Mary who is blessed among women as the “mother of the Lord.” We haven’t landed yet, we still have just under a week to go before we celebrate the birth of Jesus, but we now know exactly where we are headed.

We have also already heard how this will happen, how God is going to fulfil God’s promises. The power of God is not going to be expressed from on high, no army of angels is going to come down and set things right, we are not going to transcend or be transformed into some new heavenly, spiritual, sinless beings. No. God will act through God’s creation. God becomes human, God becomes flesh, God will be born of a woman, a special woman, a blessed woman, because she “believed that there would be a fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord," (Luke 1:45) but a human being none the less. This is what we call the Incarnation – becoming flesh, “Fleischwerdung” in German.

The author of Hebrews uses a portion of Psalm 40 to emphasise the physicality of God’s action. Christ will come into the world into a body God had prepared for him, a body in which he will do God’s will and by his self-offering and obedience show us how we are supposed to live. Through him, “through the offering of the body of Jesus once for all” (Hebrews 10:10) on the cross we, and our loves, and this creation are sanctified and made holy. This is the meaning of the Incarnation, that this world is important, not just as some sort of staging post to heaven, or testing ground. Mary knows this too.  

The Magnificat, her song of hope and joy that we read together this morning instead of a psalm, is Mary’s reaction to what Elizabeth has to say. This is what Mary believes will be “the fulfilment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.” Theologian Tom Wright calls it the “gospel before the gospel, a fierce bright shout of triumph thirty weeks before Bethlehem, thirty years before Calvary and Easter.”[1] Mary believes that God really cares about this world, and about how we live. She believes and sings about God’s promises of a new and just order, of a world based on self-giving, and on the sharing of abundance and love.

“His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” (Luke 1:50-53)

Her son and her cousin’s Elizabeth’s son, John, will be agents of this revolution. First – as we heard last week - John warns the powerful to repent. Then in his parables Jesus tells the rich not to trust in their wealth, not to make it the centre of their lives and again and again he promises God’s kingdom to the poor. And this teaching is reflected in his actions, in the people he meets and eats with and in those he invites to follow him.

The Incarnation tells us that God's promise is not abstract and distant, but physical and tangible and that it comes to life in Jesus. Jesus’ life and teaching tell us how to live to make this promise come true. In following Jesus, we are called to make him alive and present in the world through our flesh and our daily lives. And Jesus’ death and resurrection tell us that we need not be afraid in working for the fulfilment of what was spoken to Mary by the Lord. No setback is final, no failure is definite, no sin is without redemption, no death is the end. We need that reassurance too, we need faith, trust and persistence in the face of disbelief, disappointment, and resistance – sometimes even our own. Most of us – and certainly the society we live in - would be counted with the powerful, more than with the lowly, and with he rich, more than with the hungry. The challenge of Mary’s song is not just to transform others, but also ourselves.  

Jeremiah, Baruch, Zephaniah, John the Baptist, Micah and Mary are our beacons, pointing the way to the one promised by God and to a life lived in God. In the words of poet Malcolm Guite, both Mary and Elizabeth are “Prophets who bring the best in us to birth.”[2]

Advent, our time of preparation is almost over. Soon we will once again celebrate God with us, Immanuel. So get ready, fasten your seatbelts, we are coming into land.

Amen.



[1] Tom Wright, Luke for Everyone, p. 14

[2] From his Sonnet „The Visitation“ taken from the collection “Sounding the Seasons”