HTC 0930, 11 December 2011

John 1:6-8 and 19-28

This sermon is brought to you by the letter W. The points will be summarized by three words or phrases, all beginning with the letter W.

A very necessary shower – “Washing”

About 33 years ago, my first job was in Kingston-upon-Hull (apologies to all Coventry fans …). One of my earliest Hull friends was Jeremy, who worked at the local BP chemical plant as a chemical engineer. He offered to show me round the plant. I'd never visited a chemical plant before, so I jumped at the chance. It was a most fascinating place; something like a child's chemistry set scaled up 2000 times in every way, and you could navigate around the plant blindfold, simply working by smell alone. Pungent!

But then I noticed a curious and out-of-place feature; hanging off a wall was a full-size shower. Why the shower? I asked Jeremy; is it some whimsical employee benefit? No, he said, this part of the plant makes a dangerous corrosive (I think it was phenol). If you are caught in a spillage then you have 10 seconds in which to dash over to the shower, pull the handle, and let the shower drench you for 15 minutes with enormous quantities of tepid water. Any delay, and you may die. Horribly.

For old times' sake, I googled “chemical plant shower” on the web yesterday. It's a big business, with rigorous specifications. For example, “ANSI notes that the average person can walk 16 to 17 metres (55 feet) in 10 seconds, but this does not account for the physical and emotional state of the person”. Good point.

I think the people of John the Baptist's time would have instantly grasped the nature of these showers. Mark 1:5 speaks of the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem going out to be baptised by John. When we read the early part of the New Testament, it is clear that the people then felt nervous, unhappy, oppressed. True, they were back in the land God had promised, but only as subjects of the cruel and frightening pagan Roman Empire. They were expecting God's judgement. And, it seems clear, they felt much of the fault was somehow their own; they had been caught in a corrosive spillage of national failure and ungodliness. They were waiting, waiting, waiting for the terrible lightning of God's anger to strike. John was offering baptism, a sign of drenching, of cleaning, of washing clean, of repentance; and they didn't want to delay for a moment. They wanted to make sure they had clearly chosen the right side, soon as possible, before it was too late.

I don't think we find it easy to grasp the enormity of what John was doing. There seem to have been many different practices of ritual washings at that time. But a one-time drenching baptism; that was reserved for the rare occasions when pagan gentiles converted. And now John was offering it to God's people – good as saying, they themselves were no better than pagans who needed to be converted! An absolutely extraordinary phenomenon amongst a people so conscious of their special status as God's people. So: Washing. That's what John the Baptist does, on an industrial scale – the whole countryside, the whole city, all drenched, converted, shockingly washed.

Baptism is a hot-button issue for some of us. Believer's baptism, or the sign of belonging? A sign of our unity in Christ, or something which divides? Do we baptize all who ask, or do we require strict rules, clear evidence of a changed life? I can't give you answers to these questions. Actually yesterday I read a top Anglican evangelical theologian who said, perhaps God doesn't want us to agree a simple straightforward answer, because the truth about belonging to God is more complicated than that. But it all begins here, with John's Washing. What's more, as we read in the other Gospel accounts, shockingly, unexpectedly, Jesus, God's chosen Messiah, who needed absolutely no baptism or conversion, He Himself insists on being baptised by John. Jesus, who needed no conversion and so needed no baptism, is baptised to show He is one with us. So we get baptised to show we are one with Him (Galatians 3:26-29). There's much more say about baptism, but it all begins here.

Of course there were other aspects which intensified the situation. Every part of what John did, all of it, would have been clearly and obviously seen as part of the national story. John came from the wilderness (John 1:23), not from the city, baptising on the far side of the Jordan (John 1:28) from where Joshua had first led the children of Israel into the Promised Land. John spoke of himself as on a mission from God to be a witness or herald (John 1:6-8). People would have immediately thought of the great leader Moses, leading people through the Red Sea from slavery to nationhood; or of Elijah, the super-prophet, who told the foreign general Naaman to drench himself in the Jordan seven times (added later: it was in fact Elisha not Elijah who dealt with Naaman. Sorry!); or of the prophet for the end-times foretold in Deuteronomy 18:15-18, or the promised Messiah who would fix everything, kick the Romans out, and become God's truly anointed King. John's actions very deliberately tuned in to these expectations, and all would have been abuzz with speculation. Was John the One? When would he make his move? What action would be first on his agenda?

So here is our second word: Witness. John is a witness, a herald, he testifies. In the original Greek, strikingly, ominously in today's language, he is a martyr – the Greek word for a formal witness.

“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition”

Actually everyone would have been expecting the next step. Obviously the bigwigs in Jerusalem were going to investigate. Radical preachers presented a constant risk of political instability and consequent violent repression from the Roman authorities. The bigwigs sent trusted messengers with the instructions, find out exactly who John thinks he is, so we can decide what to do with him (John 1:19).

If the situation wasn't so serious, it would have been highly comic. Messengers meet herald; time for secular authority to confront the divine initiative. How does the dialogue go?

1. John “confesses and does not deny and confesses” (John 1:20)
   … that he is not the Messiah.
2. So they ask if he is the super-prophet. (Handy person to have on your side, is Elijah. He has a track record of calling down fire from heaven to make his point. 1 Kings 18:38)
   John says (just 2 words in Greek), “I am not”. (John 1:21a)
3. Perhaps he is the promised end-time prophet then?
   Just 1 word now: “No”. (John 1:21b)

You can sense the frustration of the messengers, as John says less and less. They've a report to make, and at the current rate it's going to be embarrassingly short. They ask for something a little more positive – come on, tell us a bit about yourself, John (John 1:22). And his only response is to quote from the Messianic promise of Isaiah 40.3; all he is is a voice, crying in the wilderness, telling everyone to get their local road system sorted out quickly because the King is coming.

John is the Witness, the herald, the one who points the way. First the Washing, then the Witness.

Actually John is something of a model for us in this. He is absolutely clear about his position in the scale of things. He is just a voice. He has to point to Jesus Christ, and that's it, nothing more, that's his whole mission. As we read later: John knows that as Jesus increases, so John must decrease (John 3:30). Are we prepared to take second place like that? To accept that there will be times when we must step back from the limelight so that the Gospel may prosper? And other times when we have to step up to the plate, even before we feel ready, because Christ's Gospel needs us there? Not when the church needs us, not to enable our personal development, but following the Lord Jesus Christ whether into the obscure background or to the demands of prominent service, to serve at the pleasure of the Lord of Creation.

“The one who stands among you”

It appears that amongst the messengers are some with Pharisee affiliations. Looks like they manage to get more mileage from John, perhaps because they are closer in spirit to his message. He's still pretty abrasive, though, telling them that the Messiah is actually right there under their nose, but they can't see him (John 1:26) – devastating irony directed at religious experts.

So there's our final phrase: Where's the Messiah?

And that seems to be a key to John's place in the Bible narrative. He stands at a kind of pivot, between first and second testaments. Before him, it is mostly a national story, the tale of God's people, how they were brought together, how they were formed, given a land, a temple, an identity, and the constant recurrence of God's people falling away and then being brought back. But the game changes, and John's ministry is the crucial signpost. Among the huge crowds which these Jerusalem messengers would have seen, among the turmoil of people seeking escape from the impending wrath, desperate to be washed clean, to use baptism to join up on God's side, there among the vast crowds there is one young man Jesus, apparently just like you or me, completely unnoticed by the political bigwigs, but actually the person they've all been looking for. Where's the Messiah? Among us, one with us. And (as is told in the next chapter) John is the one who recognizes Jesus, John points his own followers to Jesus. John does the work of a witness, introduces people to Jesus, and then lets Jesus do the rest.

From now on the rules are transformed. From now on we have a leader to follow, but not a super-prophet, not a military general, not a master-politician. Instead we have a very hands-on Messiah; one who is not ashamed to come and be one with us, even to be baptized with us, because when He chooses to become one with us, so we become one with Him, and He can make us safe (Galatians 3:26-29).

Washed. Witness. Where's the Messiah? Standing right alongside us in all our joys and needs, with us right to the end, and beyond.

Amen

Discussion paper on "encouraging local lay leadership in mission" as it applies to HTC

The Deanery Synod asked the PCC of our church to discuss the following questions and respond: How do we encourage local lay leadership in mission with the following sub-topics: Where is this issue sharpest in our local mission?; What help could we ask for from the Deanery?; What help could we offer?; What help could we do with from outside the Deanery?

Were we to discuss this item at a PCC meeting then we would find it very hard to allot the time and leisure to give the subject the attention it deserves, so we are taking a different route which gives more opportunity for considered debate. Here is a discussion paper: comments on this blog-piece are welcome. Responses will be noted at the PCC at October’s meeting before forwarding to the Deanery Synod.

"Encouraging local lay leadership in mission"
as it applies to HTC

Context: there is a wide variety of local lay leadership active in HTC. Examples: Sunday 0930 service is largely lay-led (though strictly and rigorously accountable to the vicar). Week-day welcome deals with numerically the largest part of our mission in terms of greeting newcomers to the church. Our mid-week services. Substantial lay leadership at 1100 when interpreted in widest sense (leadership of vergers, choir, congregational pastor). Alpha is lay-led (and marriage course?). Prayer Ministry team. Most of the activity in Sunday Club and youth ministry. Involvement of teenagers in Spark in The Park. Engagement of church members in leadership roles in (for example) Coffee Tots, International Student Ministry, and other charitable activity. (I am sure this list could be extended; it is a range of examples, rather than a list of absolutely everything.)

Issues: Some might object that quite a lot of this activity is focussed on church services "and so isn't mission at all". I think this objection is misleading. Someone who preaches a sermon on Sunday, or leads a service, or exercises pastoral care, by that very action is learning to take personal responsibility for witnessing to their faith in a public context. As this experience goes well, so it gives them confidence to speak of their Christian experience at work, or with their family. Moreover, within an environment where one is encouraged in a friendly way to speak coherently, confidently, briefly, plainly, so this enables people to be coherent, confident, brief, and plain-spoken on the occasions when they find themselves in the hot-seat at work or wherever. Does this assertion match other peoples' experience?

Some might point out that people have very busy lives, and "local lay leadership" is a way of taking people out of their contexts in work and family and confining them within a church context. Certainly this will happen if we over-commit ourselves, so care is needed. On the other hand, candidly, when I look around it is not obvious that taking on responsibility within church is inevitably linked to the same people avoiding responsibility at work (for example); in fact the reverse seems to be true - responsibility in one area often (though not invariably) promotes responsibility in another. What do people think?

They say that the best form of learning is by doing. I have found that sharing in the responsibility of conducting public worship has really sharpened up my appreciation of what public worship can mean; the act of trying to explain a passage of scripture can illuminate God's word for me intensely and leads me to seek to listen to others with greater sympathy and understanding; trying to do a good Alpha talk or lead an Alpha discussion teaches me rigorously what are the questions ordinary people are asking (and so affects my witness at work). Do other people have similar experiences?

If we are serious about involving people in local lay leadership then we have to recognize people are different. For some, the best possible preparation is in the context of formal training (hence HTC takes up the opportunities of the Bishop's Certificate with enthusiasm). Others have to fit their Christian service into limited periods of available time, and may learn best in a hands-on, learn-on-the-job experience, with sympathetic informal mentoring. (That seems to have been the way Jesus taught and trained His disciples.) Others yet again won't be up-front people, but serve in roles which are absolutely crucial (PA, IT, finance, ...) and which also make strenuous demands on leadership and responsibility. Do people feel that HTC makes sufficient allowance for our diversity in this respect?

Some will worry about whether lay leadership erodes the role of the clergy and especially of the vicar. However if a group exercises shared leadership then it becomes even more important for that group of leaders itself to be led - and this is vested in the clergy (albeit to some extent shared with the wardens and with the PCC). I have learned in a work context that it is a demanding and challenging task to lead leaders, but it is also hugely rewarding and effective in terms of the mission of an organization. My experience in working with the 0930 and with Alpha is that clergy and lay leadership are vitally complementary; both are needed if our mission is to prosper. Do others share this view, or are some people concerned about whether the clergy are given a sufficiently central role at HTC?

Here are notes on the Deanery Synod questions:

1. Where is this issue sharpest in our local mission?

Example answer: In our local mission, it seems to me the big issue is that we learn to work together rather than as a disconnected group of individuals. How do we learn to coordinate instinctively, as a first thought rather than as an after-thought?

2. What help could we ask for from the Deanery?

Example answer: On the whole, as a large church, I'd expect we should be giving rather than taking. However, we are short (for example) of appropriate musical talent to help lead 0930 and Kids Praise worship. Nexus help is very valuable, but time-limited. Is there another church where there are more of that ilk of musician than there are opportunities to play? Collaboration with other churches is always welcome: eg the “Growing Healthy Leaders” project about to commence in collaboration with the Cathedral.

3. What help could we offer?

Example answer: In some ways we have an over-abundance of supply: thus I am told that the 0930 probably has more capable lay-preachers than opportunities to preach. Might there be some way of capitalizing on this at Deanery level? (While of course it is possible to meet this by Readership training, that itself is probably too lengthy and time-demanding for some of our busy professionals, who nevertheless might be very helpful in giving Alpha talks ...)

4. What help could we do with from outside the Deanery?

Example answer: I think we should say we really do value the opportunities offered by the Bishop's Certificate.

Two talks

I did two talks at church this morning, one for each of the two big morning services, and some people asked if they could have a written copy so here they are. First of all, a talk in the 0930 "tricky questions" series. Apparently they decided they ought to have one on hypocrisy, and I was the obvious choice for speaker. Hmmm ...

HTC 0930, 17 July 2011
“Are Christians hypocrites?” Matthew 23:1-12

Our Tricky Question for today: how to react when Christians are accused of being hypocrites.

The Oxford English Dictionary gives the following definition: “Hypocrite: One who falsely professes to be virtuously or religiously inclined; one who pretends to have feelings or beliefs of a higher order than his real ones; hence generally, a dissembler, pretender”.

I suppose that most people here, clambering out of bed and off to church for 9:30 on a Sunday morning, most must have some kind of virtuous or religious inclination, so the first version of the meaning won't apply. But what about pretending to beliefs of higher order than one actually has?

People look at our actions, they listen to our words, they notice the gaps. For example people will say they can't understand how X can be allowed to belong to a Christian community, given what X did ten years ago, or even how X behaves in the workplace today. It is quite common to hear people say that Christians are hypocrites, meaning that Christians don't live up to the teaching they pretend to follow. (Though I read some interesting research recently, which stated that if people actually knew Christians personally then they tend to express a more favourable opinion.) That is our Tricky Question for today, and the obvious response is: are people right to say Christians are hypocrites in this sense? By and large, is it true that we dodge the demanding parts of our faith? Is it fair to say that most Christians attend church only to enjoy the benefits of a rather select social club?

Let's measure ourselves up against the teaching of our Master and Lord. In our Gospel reading He launches a devastating critique of the “scribes and the Pharisees”, the religious specialists of the day. The Pharisees of Jesus' time were not the priestly caste; they were a group of people who wanted to take God's Law seriously. In the middle of a society subject to great challenges, reeling from the impact of foreign ways of thought, oppressed by the imposition of imperial rule from Rome, the Pharisees took the view that it was vital to get back to God's Law and really implement it in society. They wanted people to see practical holiness in action. They wanted to call their society back to God. When I read the Gospels, it seems to me that the Pharisees started off thinking of Jesus as one of them. They invited Him to dinner parties. They thought they had accountable friendships with Him, and could call Him to task (in loving and positive ways, naturally) when He seemed to be getting woolly on details of holiness. They emphasized social justice, and the importance of “walking the talk” so that the average guy could see what he had to do. By and large the Pharisees would be better-off than the average guy; being religious was an expensive and time-consuming business. Coincidentally they believed that being prosperous was a sign of God's favour anyway.

Does any of this sound at all familiar?

Our passage marks the climax of an attack by Jesus on their whole approach. He says that they talk well enough, but they don't follow through with the kind of action that matters (verse 3). He says that they obsess about the need for purity, but won't do a single thing that actually helps the average guy (verse 4). He says that it is obvious that the Pharisees live in a world where appearances matter more than what is really there, as if God wasn't paying attention to what they really do (verse 5). He says that they are taken up with the importance of hierarchy, of titles, of fame and honour (verses 6-12). Reading between the lines, it seems that Jesus is saying that they came this close to the Kingdom of Heaven, but have gone off on a completely wrong tack because in fact they don't act as if God existed at all; shockingly, and despite their apparent holiness, they live in a purely secular world of status and celebrity. And so He tells His own followers to avoid hierarchy, to avoid elevating people to the status of father-figures or gurus, and to practice a kind of leadership which doesn't deem itself to be too important to deal with ordinary routine (verses 8-12). He continues, in the verses after our passage, by calling the Pharisees “hypocrites”, play-actors, people who spend all their energies playing a part, not being their true selves, indulging in a fatal kind of group-think, ignoring the real consequences of their actions, living in a false reality (verses 13, 15, 23, 25, 29).

So what about us? I think we risk this hypocrisy most when we use slogans which, while actually being quite good in themselves, make big promises about our behaviour. That's when the gap between propaganda and reality is going to be most painfully obvious to the outsider. Examples:

• We are a healing community;
• Church is a place for radical discipleship;
• This congregation is a loving and welcoming family;
• Church is a place for generous giving;
• This service is for Spirit-led worship;
• Our church is a House of Prayer for all.

Think about the promises these seem to make to someone coming from the outside. I'm not saying we should stop saying any of this. I am asserting that these slogans make big promises to people coming from the outside into our fellowship, and if we're going to use these slogans then we need continually to be asking the Lord Jesus to point out to us where we are falling short, and to energize us by His Spirit to make good the defects. This should be a routine part of our weekly Confession.

So here is one response: let us Listen carefully to the words and phrases we use, and make sure that our slogans do not become the moral equivalent of writing cheques which our communal experience together will not fulfil in any way at all.

But I don't think that the “listen” response is enough.

I find these words of Jesus to the scribes and the Pharisees to be most unsettling. I know I don't practice what I preach. I know I create problems for other people. I know there's a part of me that loves attention and status, when I can get it. I'm often happy to stay with comfortable group-think, and I often suppose that if my circle says something is all right then I don't need to worry about it. I am uneasily aware that in global terms we are a privileged and relatively secure community, so that it is too easy for us to talk glibly about the cost of discipleship. I know that I often get distracted by marginal issues rather than concentrating on what is really important in Jesus' eyes. And I recognize in myself the impulse to create authority-figures and gurus out of my Christian brothers and sisters.

When I hear people asking why all Christians are such hypocrites, in my heart of hearts I know – at least as far as I am concerned – they've got a point. Guilty as charged. We must Learn the truth.

But that's what the Bible tells me about myself anyway. Jeremiah 17:9; “The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it?”. There's no Good News of salvation for me until I admit that I suffer from a deep brokenness that needs fixing. As Jesus said, healthy people don't need a doctor (Matthew 9:12). If I want salvation then I must learn that I need fixing, that I'm a recovering hypocrite, that I haven't arrived yet, and that the only way to make the journey to health is to accept that I am ill, that my heart is indeed desperately deceitful and that I need help from Someone Who is bigger than me. Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.

So here is another response to this question. Yes, Christians are hypocrites, because Christians are broken people who have only just begun to realize that they need fixing. Being put off Christ because the Church is full of sinners is like refusing the benefits of modern medicine because hospitals are full of very sick people. And that has uncomfortable implications for us in terms of what we expect from our mutual fellowship. As 1 John says over and over again: “Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God”. That's not the soft cuddly instruction it might seem to be at first sight. It's saying, learn that Wilfrid Kendall is not a sweet-natured humble person of righteousness, but a deeply-flawed disciple with all sorts of stubborn issues – and love him anyway, because he was bought at enormous price and set free by the Lord and Saviour of Mankind.

And finally that leads to another point. It's easy to get depressed thinking about hypocrisy and Christians. So many of the good examples of Christian discipleship end up as yet more Christian people with clay feet. But the Christian journey of faith is not just about listening to make sure we don't promise what we aren't trying to deliver. It's not just about learning that we are broken people on a slow pilgrimage of healing. There's something more.

I think the best way I can tell this is to relate something that happened to me last month:

Monday 6 June 2011. I met an old friend for coffee this evening. We've known each other, on and off, for 39 years, all my adult life. He's older, shaven head, stretched out thin by the years. I'm also older, balder, but I'm struggling not to be too filled out by the years. It was good to spend a couple of hours together. He knows me at my best and at my worst, and we can still spend time being with each other, enjoying each others' company. Afterwards I went on to our church prayer meeting, and there I sensed the Lord saying to me, “I've known you since before you were born, more than all your life. I know you at your best and I know you at your very worst, and I love you, and we can spend time together, enjoying each others' company. Because I know you exactly as you are, strengths and weaknesses, and it is for that person, the real you, that I gave my life; it is that person whom I Love with a passion that is stronger than death, strengths and weaknesses, warts and all”.

Jesus says: “Shoulder my yoke [with me] and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls”. (Matthew 11:29)

We like to pretend all sorts of things about our life together. We want to say we are a caring community, or a charismatic community, or a community that seeks to transform, to offer the Gospel to all who come. We like to say that we want to be accessible to others, to be a church family where one can find secure relationships. There's a bit of truth in all of this, but not the whole truth, not consistently. It's easy for us to forget that the heart of the matter is that we are a community of saved sinners, often beset by compromise, often failing to be the people we have been called to be. We can take offence when people call us hypocrites, but often that is who we are. We need to face facts squarely. We aren't yet what we should be. As Paul said in one of his most deeply personal letters (2 Corinthians 6:8b), we are the impostors who speak the truth.

So let's take that on board. Let's make the effort to accept that we haven't arrived yet, that we have all sorts of flaws, both individually and as a community. Let's factor that in to our expectations ; we are all going to have our little ways, splinters in our eyes that stop us seeing the truth clearly, sometimes (it has to be said) rather more than splinters. That means we have to be gentle with each other, ready to make allowances, but also ready at the right moment to help each other face up to whom we really are and to make small baby steps towards becoming the kind of people God made us to be. But let's also remember that each one of us is deeply and profoundly loved by the Lord God, seen exactly for who we are, and yet loved passionately with a love stronger than death.

So are Christians hypocrites?

Let's listen carefully to the words and phrases we use, weigh them, and make sure that our slogans are not like writing cheques which our communal experience together will not at all fulfil.

It's true, Christians are hypocrites, because Christians are just broken people who have begun to learn that they need fixing. Being put off Christ because the Church is full of sinners is like refusing the benefits of modern medicine because hospitals are full of very sick people.

And the Lord says: “I've known you since before you were born, more than all your life. I know you at your best and I know you at your very worst, and I love you, and we can spend time together, enjoying each others' comany. Because I know you exactly as you are, strengths and weaknesses, and it is for that person, the real you, that I gave my life; it is that person whom I love with a passion that is stronger than death; I love you, strengths and weaknesses, warts and all”.

Listen, Learn, be Loved.

Amen

Secondly, one on Jacob the confidence trickster, who got blessed despite himself.

HTC 1100, 17 July 2011: “Jacob's run”
Genesis 28:10-19a and Matthew 13: 24-30, 36-43

Our Gospel passage is a tough one, a farming tale told to a farming community, all about good and bad plants, and how they grow up together apparently all the same, but how they will be treated differently at Judgement Day, how it will be great for the good plants, and very very bad for the bad plants. When I look at the context, I see that this story is told by Jesus after a series of increasingly serious confrontations with the Pharisees – people of the day who thought that a strong line should be taken about enforcing purity and religious observances, people who thought that the Kingdom of Heaven would be brought closer if only some time and trouble were taken to force God's people to shape up and act holy. So Jesus' story is a bit of a slap in the face for people of that persuasion: it's saying that the Kingdom of Heaven is not going to be anything like as simple as that. All sorts of people are going to grow all mixed up together, and the grand sorting-out won't happen till Judgement Day. Jesus is saying, if you want to establish an “in” club of right-thinking people then (a) you will find it is impossible to make the proper distinctions, and (b) you'll actually be working against the Kingdom of Heaven, which is a much more open affair. And he's also saying, yes indeed there will be a grand sorting-out. Christian faith is not just some kind of intriguing mind-game: it has real consequences for all of us, real eternal consequences.

But instead of focussing on the Gospel story itself, I'm going to dwell on the Old Testament reading. The story of Jacob would have been told over and over again to Jesus and to His hearers; it would be part of the mental landscape, and has strong links to Jesus in it. So let's look first at Jacob, and then come back to the Gospel passage with Jacob in mind.

Jacob on the run

He was running for his life. He had so nearly pulled it off, a confidence trick that would have set him up, made him secure, guaranteed him a rich old age. But he hadn't thought it through, and now he had to get out of his home territory, leave behind all he'd ever known, disappear and vanish. There was no time to plan, no time to fix things; he'd been forced to embark immediately on a desperate journey of hundreds of miles, on his own, vulnerable, at risk. He had to run, run, run.

The frustrating thought must have been running through his head, how close he'd come to success. Despite being the junior son, the stay-at-home child, the mother's boy, the one who didn't keep the old man supplied with tasty meals of freshly killed meat, he'd so nearly managed to win the whole show. Helped by his conniving mum, he'd managed to con his blind and failing father into blessing him instead of his older twin brother the Action Man. He'd set it up so carefully too; Action Man had already carelessly promised away the headship of the family, simply to get a refreshing bowl of soup after a hard day hunting. Jacob had had it all lined up: Action Man gives up his first-born privileges, and Bewildered Old Dad gives his blessing; when the music stops there's Jacob, holding all the blessings and all the privileges, first of the family, top of the pile.

Except Jacob had missed the obvious flaw in the plan. Infuriated Action Man would cut through all the wheeling and dealing, and gut Jacob like a dead deer, and then all the manipulation, all the deceptions, all the planning would be worth nothing. So Jacob has to run, has to throw away even the partial security of being junior son, has to flee out into the wild country and keep on running for hundreds of miles, running away to an uncertain welcome from his mother's brother in far-off Haran.

Even crooked wheeler-dealers have to rest, so when the sun set and it was too dark to travel further, Jacob called it a day. Normally a traveller would make sure they stopped at a village, claimed hospitality and safe haven. But Jacob didn't do that – I imagine he didn't want to leave an obvious trail for his enraged huntsman brother to follow. Instead, he decided to sleep rough, with a stone for a pillow. Not the most comfortable of resting places, but the exhausted boy drops off into a troubled sleep notwithstanding.

He's not the most prepossessing of characters, is this Jacob. Junior son of a dysfunctional family; son of a weak father who takes the easy way out of difficult situations, son of a stunningly beautiful mother who plays favourites with her children, younger twin brother to a reckless and thoughtless Action Man, one who from boyhood has learned a life of manipulation and deceit, untrustworthy, sly. Some people think of the Old Testament as a chronicle of happy family life; I don't know where they pick up this idea. Our story today is quite typical of this part of the Bible; brother murderously inclined towards brother, parents who have no idea whatsoever of how to bring up their kids in a consistent framework of love and discipline, people who easily fail and who mess up big-time.

That's the context in which Jacob has a dream. Jacob, this wheeler-dealer, this con-man, this manipulator, this wide boy who's come to the point of failure of all his misbegotten plans, Jacob has a dream and hears the voice of God Almighty. And what does he hear, but a promise of greatness which stretches unimaginably far beyond all his trickery and lies. God promises Jacob a future and a meaning that stretches far into the future, children and childrens' children who will cover the earth, offspring who will be a blessing to all the people of the world.

It could seem so unfair; why does God want to bless this little crook?

The shocking secret

This passage is just one example amongst many Bible passages which declare a shocking open secret. God deals with everyone, not just good people. Look at our Gospel passage and you see the good plants and the bad plants all mixed up together, because it isn't obvious how to tell the difference. It won't depend on what postcode you come from, nor will it depend on your education. God doesn't make special allowances for the nice folk, the ones on top of the pile, the people who know how to behave in church in a proper and dignified manner. God deals with us as we really are – and if I have a problem with that then I have a problem with God. I have to say, if we find that thought offensive, if it disturbs our sense of how things ought to be, if so then honestly my reading of the Bible is that we are getting the right message. The Gospel is offensive. In 1 Corinthians 1:23, Paul describes the Gospel of Christ crucified as a stumbling block to the devoutly religious and an scandal to sophisticated people; God doesn't deal with people according to what they deserve.

When I was a student, I found myself living in a house with someone who was a very rough diamond. He was often angry, had a drink problem, could be violent – once I said something unwise which enraged him and I had to sneak out by the back door to avoid a nasty situation. Life was very stressful and difficult with him around. But then he suddenly became a Christian, full of the joy of the Lord. And I was shocked to discover I had a big problem with this. I had a problem with someone being able to turn a switch, as it were, express repentance, and then be suddenly OK with God. Did all the past count for nothing? Could the slate really be wiped clean just like that? I knew the correct answer was, yes, it can be wiped clean, yes, God is prepared to forgive people when they repent. But emotionally it was a difficult place for me, and I had to struggle to accept the shocking reality of what I knew theoretically to be true.

God's encounter with Jacob is shocking in this way. And so is Jesus' story and what it implies about the activities of the scribes and the Pharisees, who no doubt were good decent honest folk, trying hard to raise the general level of godliness amongst the people of their day. If we have a problem with that then we have a problem with God; that's the way He works.

Does what we do matter?

So does what we do matter? Is it acceptable for people to behave badly, and then to find forgiveness from God? Is church just a useful social club for people who want good company? I think the Bible shows us that the answer to this question is both yes and no. The story of Jacob doesn't end with his dream and the promise. When I read on, I discover that the rest of Jacob's life is one long struggle with consequences. Very soon after this story, Jacob meets a con-man who is cleverer at deception than he is – and has to spend fourteen years working out a bad debt as a consequence. As a consequence of the deception, Jacob has to deal with a complex, unsatisfactory, even tragic family life (a long and degrading fertility war involving two wives and two conscripted serving maids), and to deal with a pathologically violent rabble of murderously disorderly sons who make his own upbringing look like an island of tranquillity in comparison. But, on the other hand, Jacob is continually reassured that God's enormous promise to him is to be made good; that his life is indeed weighted with a significance and fruitfulness that will reach far down the years.

And so it is with us. We know we aren't as good as we ought to be; each Sunday we admit this using the general confession. We know our actions often don't meet the promises of our words. Our lives are just like the field in the Gospel story; good and bad plants growing there all together. And we have to deal with the consequences, which can be costly and lengthy. If we were in this game of church just for public show, then it wouldn't make much sense, but Jesus' stories tell us the Kingdom of Heaven is all about hidden growth, not about public show. We are here today because we've heard the promise; we've heard God's word which tells us that we can become part of something bigger than ourselves, that God is prepared to deal with us just as we are, that we are hugely valuable to Him because we were bought at an unimaginable price, at a price paid in blood. And just as God re-asserted his promise to Jacob, so we are met today at Eucharist to be reminded of the price by which we are redeemed.

We aren't anywhere near as good as we ought to be; we meet as a collection of needy people, warts and all. If people call us hypocrites, then it is our imperfections that they see, and we have to be candid and honest about this. But all the same we are worth everything to the Lord our God, and – God-willing – we will one day grow into a fruitful crop, become the people we were always meant to be. We must take ourselves at God's valuation; worth the price of the blood of His Son. Just like Jacob, in fact, because Jacob's promise was that God said He'd raise up salvation and blessing for all out of Jacob's undistinguished and dodgy origins. Jacob would not have been able to see it clearly, but God promised him that his inglorious run for a precarious safety would eventually result in salvation for all mankind. That's the kind of promise we have too, one which takes a bad plant and against all the odds makes it good.

Amen

Three-dimensional chess

I've never played three-dimensional chess http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaMf4cb-tAc but chairing a meeting is nearly as complex. You have to keep clear track of: what's the current agenda item; what's the next agenda item; what is the ordered list of people who wish to speak; whether the discussion should continue or whether it is showing signs of going off track; whether it might be best to split the issue being discussed into two components; whether it might be best to join this issue with another; whether the sense of the meeting is moving towards a resolution; how the agreed rules of procedure indicate we should proceed; and (most crucially of all) whether we are running out of time.

I've chaired meetings before, but yesterday I chaired a PCC meeting and (this surprised me) it was the first time I had the opportunity to operate within the formal structure of identifying a proposer and a seconder when we moved to votes. In previous meetings we'd either been operating informally, or (in departmental meetings) within an understood albeit limited framework of hierarchical responsibility. Certainly the extra complexity made the task of chairing seem more like three-dimensional chess. I hope I got it more right than wrong, but I'm still a learner ...

One might take the view that all this fuss about procedures was somehow unspiritual; that a group of Christians should in some way be able prayerfully to discern the way forward and agree unanimously.

Or one might argue that these same rules of procedure express a spirituality; operated correctly, they allow everyone to have their say (each person being part of the Body of Christ and hence a vital voice), and they also allow a structure within which minority views can be clearly expressed and yet we can agree to act in concert when a decision is needed (because the Good Lord's Creation is not a zero-sum game).

For myself, I know I'd prefer the challenges of three-dimensional chess to the ideological horrors of authoritarianism - whether religious or secular.

Back to the fray

It's been a long time silent on this blog. Excuses: lots of reports to write at work, son's wedding, time spent recruiting new wardens. But now the reports are (largely) written, the son is well-married, and we have two new excellent wardens to replace the two super-experienced (and super) retiring wardens. So I now have some time to return to the practice of making occasional updates.

We had a civic service today at the 1100. That was ... interesting . .. We expected 20 or 30 in the civic party and reserved pews accordingly, but it turned out to be 110 complete with sword and mace. Fortunately we discovered that 10 minutes before, just enough time to persuade a couple of the congregation kindly to move to clear a larger space for the civic party. Equally fortunately, the party were kindly tolerant of our rushing around to make sure all happened decently and in order. Alison, one of the two new wardens, was shadowing me in all this, so has now seen the business of wardening the 1100 at a very elevated rate of busy-ness and tempo.

The other new warden, Pete, has just started his own warden's blog at http://newkindofxian.tumblr.com/ so do take a look ...

Guest post

Here - with her permission - is Catherine's talk at church this morning, which enoyed quite an impact.

0930 talk: Isaiah 42: 1-9 9 January 2011

This passage is a prophecy written about 2700 years ago: that’s to say, at the time of writing it hadn’t happened yet. It’s picked up in the New Testament in the gospel of Matthew where the writer relates it to Jesus. For many of us therefore it’s a very familiar passage, and the danger with all things we know well is to read back into it the things we know that follow, and it all seems very obvious. But as I’ve been thinking about this passage, I’ve become aware how little I know about the background, and some of the terms used. So this is not the definitive talk on this passage – rather, I offer it as a work in progress. See what you think, and come back to me afterwards. I want to consider 3 questions:

• What would the first hearers of this prophecy have understood?
• What did Matthew understand when he was writing about Jesus?
• What do we understand today?

1 Original setting for these words. Book of Isaiah quite long and thought by scholars to have been written by several people over time. First bit – up to chapter 39 - refers to series of events when kings in charge in Judah; second bit – second or deutero-Isaiah – refers to a time about a century and a half later when kingdom had been overthrown, a remnant left in the land around Jerusalem, some had gone off to Egypt and some had been taken to Babylon. They are in the wrong place – away from Jerusalem, and they feel totally cut off from and abandoned by God. We’ve talked about this time before – this is the era of Daniel which we looked at a couple of years ago, and it ends with a change of regime, as Babylon is defeated by Medes and Persians, and Ezra and Nehemiah restoring the walls of Jerusalem, which we looked at before the summer. So here at this point, the exiles are longing for liberation and hoping it’s going to come soon but not holding out any immediate hopes since they’ve been waiting a long time. And then they get this glorious prophecy – start of chapter 40 – comfort, comfort my people says your God; speak tenderly to Jerusalem and proclaim to her that her service has been completed and her sin has been paid for. This glorious promise is for them, the refugees living in what they must have seen as an evil empire. It goes on to talk about a helper coming for Israel from the east and the north, and then it’s our passage – the chosen servant.

So who did they understand this servant to be? Scholars have different views: possibly it refers to Israel itself, since the chosen people of God is spoken about as a servant elsewhere. Alternative view is that it refers to Cyrus, king of Persia, who took over the Babylonian empire, ended repression and opened up new opportunities for the Israelites – a king who, even if he didn’t know God, came to fulfil his purposes. Third view is that it refers to the Messiah – the one who was to save Israel from all its sins. This is the view that Matthew takes up.

So let’s look at the passage.

Two parts: v 1-4 God talks about the servant; v 5-9 God talks to the servant, and we are able to listen in.

V1. Servant is announced and commended. Here is my chosen one – I delight in him. Echoes here of kingship – like David being anointed by Samuel when he was chosen in 1 Kings 16:13; echoes too with current coronation liturgy –sirs, I present to you Elizabeth, your undoubted queen. Honoured and recognised – appointed to a task. What’s this particular honour for? – to bring justice to the nations. It’s like that when someone gets a great promotion isn’t it? We see the honour and status: they see the work that lies ahead.

Good – everyone thinks – now we get what’s rightfully ours. Cue prince on a white charger coming to sort things out pesky Babylonians, or later the pesky Romans. In the film Bruce Almighty, Bruce is given divine powers by God – he physically enhances his girlfriend, teaches the dog to use the toilet, ridicules a rival to get his job. When challenged by God, he says he’s been ‘righting a few wrongs in my own life.’ But look at the next verse: the model of kingship here is absolutely not that. ‘He will not shout or cry out or raise his voice in the streets...’ It’s not assertive at all. It’s centred instead on grace and mercy and it describes a king who is gentle. V 3 - if people are described as smouldering or dimly-burning it means they’re at the end of their inner resources, struggling; if they’re bruised they are bent by pressure and weakened. This is where the servant brings justice – in alleviating the burdens of those who can’t go on.

This king is gentle – but not weak. Described as ‘faithful’ – keep going, see it through. V 4 - words used for ‘falter’ and ‘discourage’ are actually the same words as used for ‘dimly burning’ and ‘bruised’ earlier. People may falter – but he won’t. He comes to minister to those whose strength is failing but he won’t give up ‘until he establishes justice’. (v 4)

I was determined to put in a cricketing reference to this sermon, and this is it. Thought for the Day: demands of long Test series requires considerable mental strength; David Shephard – professional cricketer turned bishop – valued the mental discipline and experience that playing cricket had given him when he was faced with the many demands of being Bishop of Liverpool. Used to not giving up, even when going was tough.

How did writer of Matthew’s gospel see this? For Matthew there is no question that this passage relates directly to Jesus as Messiah. Matt 3: 17 baptism of Christ – this is my beloved Son; with him I am well-pleased – clear echoes of verse 1 here. Furthermore in Matt 12: 15-21, Matthew talks about Jesus healing and warning everyone not to tell who he was, and quotes this passage directly. How does Jesus bring justice for Matthew? By dealing directly with those on the margins of society – the women, the lepers, tax collectors – and restoring them. How did he do this? – by opening himself to become broken and extinguished. I found it quite a challenge to work out what was meant by justice here: I felt my original interpretation was too narrow, too closely linked to law. It seems here that justice is linked closely to salvation. In this, Jesus has already helped us in greatest way imaginable by dying for us. At end of his life, final words are ‘it is finished’. Mission accomplished, you might say.

Verses 5-9 God addresses his servant. Reminders of who God is, and his greatness are peppered through the text; I created this; I am the Lord; I’ve done all this and now I’ve called you. Servant will show what God can do

Shows the closeness of God with his servant: I have called you … take your hand… keep you… The purpose is to ensure that the servant will be effective in his task: v 6 and 7 - in regard to the covenant, and in setting people free.

Covenant: like that given to Moses on Mount Sinai; but two significant differences. You will be the covenant, and also – not just for Jews this time but for Gentiles – all people including us!

Freedom from blindness and darkness: lots of references to Jesus as light – we’ve just had one of most famous passages as Christmas gospel – where we hear ‘In him was life and the life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not understood it.’ Similarly in John 12:46; ‘ I have come as a light into the world so that no-one who believes in me should stay in darkness’. What does justice mean here? Freedom and clarity.

We’re listening to God speaking to his chosen servant, and we find they’re talking about – us!

What does this mean for us then?

1 - Clear that God’s kingdom is not yet fully established on earth. Jesus came for a mission and he fulfilled it, but we’re still seeing the outworkings of that final battle. Just as the Jews felt overwhelmed in Babylon and in first century Palestine, we can feel overfaced by the forces working around us: credit crunch, job losses, global warming: all of these are real concerns and we would like to know how it’s going to go and how will we get through this? Spoke at beginning of the convenience of looking back – in 100 years we might know it will be fine, but we can’t know now.

And yet – God is Lord of History, and Geography, and Economics. The spiritual and the real are not separate categories for him. James said something that really struck home at Christmas when he talked about the messiness of the world – having Jesus and Santa and mistletoe and Coventry carol all bound up together in Christmas – Jesus doesn’t just come to redeem part of our world but all of it. He’s a very hands-on Messiah and God is in charge.

2 - Jesus identified with us through his baptism. We’ve looked at Jesus’ baptism by John several times in recent years which is why we decided to focus on the other passage this time. You may recall that people were coming to John to be baptised and Jesus came too. John even objected – why do you come to me? But Jesus persuaded him that it needed to be done as a sign. Through his baptism the Messiah became one with his people; we share in his baptism. We are one with him.

3 - And we share in his task. We too are called to righteousness, to justice, to bring the message of salvation and hope to those who haven’t heard it; wherever we are, we’re called on to fulfil it. We do this with our whole selves as integrated people, not just with the Sunday churchy bits: don’t separate the ‘spiritual’ from the real. Salvation means the freedom to be the person God made you to be: think for a minute about what that might mean for you. I don’t mean this as a gospel for active supermen or women, but we have a task. Sure, God accepts us just as we are, but his vision is for people who develop. We are told to work our salvation in fear and trembling – doesn’t sound like sitting still to me. Not sure what this might mean for you, but might involve you being useful in ways you may not have dreamed of yet. Someone I know, diminutive Scottish lady, found herself visiting men in prison: had to ‘psych’ herself up to go, but did it nonetheless. Someone else made a vow to say ‘yes’ to every reasonable request of him during Lent – that was a brave commitment.

I suggest to you that it might be good to get past what we know we can do, and to take a risk – just having a go, trying it out. And I offer this as an example – this is not where it begins or ends: at start of 9 30 service nearly 14 years ago, those who were asked to do things ‘had a go’ because it had to be done. It didn’t matter that we made mistakes because that’s how we learned, but it did matter that we doing the best we could. I remember someone saying at the time – this is such a supportive congregation because they know that next week it’ll be them. We can, especially in these highly professional and trained days, make a prison of doing things properly. But it can also be the case that by trying, we gain confidence in something and that this enables us to do something else elsewhere. I love examples like that.

Best of it is that we are not on our own in this. We’re not making a bid to improve ourselves, like the latest rush of self-help books and New Year diets that seem to be everywhere at the moment. We’re on a mission with our Lord and Saviour, guided and strengthened by the same Spirit who sustained him, and God is telling us that he delights in us. What a thought. What a great place to start a New Year.