LOVING UNITY (1 Corinthians 12:12 - 13:13)

Some familiar words: If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing.

I imagine that most of us will have heard these words before; they’re the opening lines to one of the best loved passages in all of Scripture. They’re sometimes called the Ode to Love, and they’re by far the most popular choice of reading at Christian marriage ceremonies—which is precisely where many of us will have heard them.  

However, Paul wasn’t writing about romantic love, but about caring love. He was actually lambasting the Christians in Corinth – for their spiritual pride, their selfishness, their festering internal divisions. The point he was making to the letter’s original recipients was this: For all your impressive gifts, you’re just empty noise; for all your impressive faith and understanding you're a waste of space; because you've lost sight of what it means to love one another.

Some people here will have noticed that I’ve spent the last two or three minutes talking not about this morning's NT reading – the second half of 1 Corinthians 12, but about 1 Co 13—the passage immediately following on from it. And I’ve done so because the two adjacent passages shed light on one another—they were written to be read at the same sitting. The passage about different parts of the body was written as a lead-up to the Ode to Love. And in it we find the reasoning, the justification, for Paul’s conclusion: that caring love is infinitely more important than all the impressive gifts, the pride and the factions that you find in every church including our own. In fact, it’s to help us understand why caring love is essential that Paul asks us to think about a human body in the first place. 

He begins very simply, by pointing out that a body has many different parts: parts that look very different and perform very different functions. My hand, I think you’ll agree, looks nothing like my ear; if you could see my pancreas, which I’m glad you can’t, and you’re probably equally glad you can’t, I’m sure you would never mistake it for a kneecap. But as Paul points out (v12), all these many parts form one body, and the church is similarly one body. However different we may be as individuals, we’re all part of an overriding oneness, a unity of being, based (Paul says) on the shared gifts of baptism and the Holy Spirit that make us Christians.

This may at first sound a little trite, but when Paul illustrates his point by referring to Jews and Gentiles, and slaves and freemen, it stops being trite and becomes radical—even threatening. Because Jew and Gentile, slave and free were the deepest divisions the Christian church has ever seen. Beside them, the deepest divisions in the modern church – male and female, gay and straight, high and low, traditional and modern – are skin-deep by comparison. And if such divisions as these are meaningless, then a lot of fresh thinking is needed if we’re ever going to be more than ringing gongs and clanging cymbals.

So Paul’s first point was that the church is like a body with many different members. And his second point is that all the different members are needed for the body to thrive. As he says (v17), If the whole body were an eye, where would the sense of hearing be? If the whole body were an ear, where would the sense of smell be? And Paul’s conclusion, which he clearly intends his hearers to apply to the church, is this: God has placed the parts in the body, every one of them, just as he wanted them to be. Once again, this is radical when applied to our own setting and all our diverse types: evangelicals and anglo-catholics; those different from us in gender, sexuality or marital status; our quiet contemplatives and our happy clappers; our organists and our guitarists, our preachers and our cleaners, our flower arrangers and coffee makers… In Paul’s words, they are all different, all needed, all where God wanted them to be.

And finally, Paul warns us that no one member can tell another, you don’t belong. (v21) The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you!” On the contrary, he continues, those parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable, and the parts that we think are less honourable we (have to) treat with special honour. In other words, not a single member of the church is dispensable, and what we think of them is quite irrelevant. It’s all too easy (Paul is saying) to honour the gifted and influential members, the people who in a human body would be brains and tongues and hearts. Paul challenges our value system: the more humble someone’s position in the church, and the less influence they wield, the more we should value them.

It should be getting clearer how all this relates to the following chapter with its famous “ode to love”. We can easily fail to see the connection, because in our culture we use the word ‘love’ so carelessly: I love chocolate, I love my best mate, I love my children, I love God – quite a different meaning in each case. But when Paul wrote of love, he used a Greek word that means something quite specific: namely, the kind of love that Jesus showed when he died for us on the Cross – in others words, the kind of love that we show when we make sacrifices for the benefit of others.

Jesus promises that if we show this kind of love to one another, everyone will recognise us as his disciples. Paul warns that without this kind of love we are nothing, no more than noisy gongs and cymbals.  And in case there should be any doubt as to the kind of love he’s writing about, he goes on to describe it in detail, in those famous words: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Paul’s famous ode reaches its climax with the observation that until Christ comes again we have to rely on three things: faith, hope and love. And the greatest of these, he says, is love.

I was going to end on that note, but I can’t finish without mentioning that today is Holocaust Memorial Day, the day each year when the world remembers the six million Jews and four million others who were massacred by the Nazis (including Romanies, Homosexuals, Freemasons, people of mixed race, the elderly, the disabled, the disfigured, and religious dissidents like the famous Dietrich Bonhoeffer).

One of the most unforgettable experiences of my life was visiting Auschwitz less than two years ago, and witnessing the horror of what a Christian society – let me say, considerably more Christian than Britain today – was capable of doing when adherence to rules and cherished traditions became more important than love.

The world hasn’t learned from the Holocaust. Genocide and ethnic cleansing are very much a continuing part of the modern world. Before I finish, I’d like us to spend a few moments in silent respect for the victims . . . . 

Heavenly Father, we’re sorry for all the ways we have failed to show love to those inside and outside the church. Help us to be more than clanging gongs and clashing cymbals. In the name of Jesus…..

THE REAL MAGIC OF CHRISTMAS

Micah 5: 2-5a

Luke 1: 39-55

Of all the times and seasons in the Christian year, Christmas is the one with the broadest appeal. It’s celebrated in one way or another by most people in the western hemisphere, Christian and non-Christian alike. Jesus may not always be a visible part of these festivities, but elements of his teaching can be seen in the unlikeliest places: in the most secular of Christmas greetings, in the most pagan of Christmas songs, in the most schmaltzy of Christmas movies. Peace, goodwill, forgiveness, reconciliation and fresh beginnings are central to the meaning of Christmas both inside and outside the Church.

Of course, Christmas is above all a time to remember and give thanks for Jesus’ birth, but there’s more to it than just remembrance. Christmas, like Jesus himself, is a gift from God to everyone willing to receive it, and even those who don’t know him yet can sense its magic. In “A Christmas Carol” by the great Christian author Charles Dickens, this life-changing magic is seen in the coming together of the past, present and future. And a similar pattern is seen in this mornings reading from two major prophets.

A prophet is someone through whom God has chosen to reveal his thoughts and intentions. Because God is a the God of justice, the prophets’ task has often been to speak out angrily against oppression and greed, and to warn their society of the consequences if they don’t change their ways. But because God is loving and merciful, he’s just as often inspired them to deliver promises of forgiveness and salvation. Warnings and promises: that is prophecy in a nutshell. Our readings today give us a glimpse into the world of two major prophets:

The first is Micah, the source of our OT lesson. Micah’s warnings of impending catastrophe were fulfilled in the 6^th century BC when the Jews were carried off to captivity in Babylon. But the later chapters of the book contain a promise that after the catastrophe God will do something new and exciting. And with uncanny accuracy, nearly 500 years before the birth of Jesus, the writer says this:  ”You, Bethlehem Ephrathah, 
though you are small… out of you will come…one who will be ruler over Israel. He will shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord… His greatness
 will reach to the ends of the earth.”

Micah was unmistakeably a great prophet, but the identity of the second is less obvious. Mary, the God-bearer, the virgin mother of Christ, is so holy to most Christians that they don’t usually think of her as a prophet in her own right. But Luke reveals Mary as a major prophet. And the most direct affirmation of this comes in the words he attributes to her when her cousin Elizabeth recognises who it is that she is carrying in her womb. These words, known as the Magnificat, are so powerful, so prophetic, that they’re used daily throughout the Church. And precisely because repetition can dull the vibrant meaning of the words, we'll think about them now.

My soul magnifies the Lord, declares Mary, and my spirit has rejoiced in God my Saviour. These words of praise set the tone for the whole passage, but notice particularly how she calls God her saviour, showing a supernatural awareness – even before her Son’s birth - of what God is doing.

She continues: For he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. In other words, God has used her precisely because of her lack of power and status. This immediately connects her to the OT prophets and their emphasis on God’s love for the powerless. And when Mary goes on, From henceforth, all generations shall call me blessed, she’s not being vain or proud. Knowing what she knows about her role in God’s rescue plan, she can’t help but know how she’ll be seen by future generations. And she gives all the glory to God. All generations shall call me blessed, she says, but she’s quick to add, for he that is mighty has done great things to me, and holy is his name.

So far, Mary’s words have focused on what God is doing with her, rather than on the bigger picture. But Mary is about to get very radical, very political: His mercy, she says, is on them who fear him from generation to generation. At first sight this is just a reminder of God’s merciful nature, but there’s a stern prophetic undercurrent. What about those who don’t fear him, who don’t submit to his will? Like the Roman overlords. Like the tax-collectors and moneylenders—those who are too ruthless and arrogant to change their ways? Already there’s a hint of the emphasis the OT prophets placed on judgment.

And that’s only a beginning, for Mary continues: He has showed strength with his arm – in other words he’s shown that he’s willing and able to act in power, to intervene in human affairs – and he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. In short, those who are too arrogant to listen to God are driven out by him – the image suggests that they’re scattered like refugees before an invading army.

And as Mary goes on, her words gather still more strength: He has put down the mighty from their seats, she declares. In other words even rulers - like the Romans and King Herod and the powerful Temple authorities – are subject to the king of kings, and if they abuse their authority they’re deposed.

Finally, as the other side of the same coin, and in a dazzling preview of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount, Mary announces that God has exalted the humble and weak. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away.

What are we to make of this in our present situations? I started by talking about the power of Christmas to transform lives by bringing past, present and future together. We’ve now reflected on the words of two major prophets, and we’ve see how the coming of Christ is the source of that transforming power. All the mistakes of the past, and all possible futures, are contained in that moment when God broke in to human history. Even the world beyond the church is touched by the power of that moment, and senses the opportunity to make a fresh start.

Many people, including perhaps people reading or listening to these words, live their lives enslaved by the past and/or the future. 

Some are consumed by remorse for things they’ve done; some by the pain of what’s been done to them. In Jesus, God offers power over the past: to repent and feel clean, to forgive others and be healed.

Many live their lives enslaved by the future: plagued by fears or insecurities,  threatened, bullied, deprived of their rights. In Christ, God offers power over the future: a glimpse of the glorious victory in which we will share, and the confidence to trust him in all things.

If my words have struck a chord with you, this Christmas could be a time of healing and release. I know that any one of our leaders would be honoured to spend time in prayer with you, bringing your concerns to Jesus, so that this Christmas you may experience the joy and peace that he brought into the world at his birth.

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

JESUS IS KING OF KINGS - a reflection for Advent

Did you know that the world is secretly ruled by aliens disguised as the British royal family? That’s one popular internet conspiracy theory. Another claims that the world is governed by a shadowy group known as the Illuminati.

Crazy, of course, but just heavily distorted reflections of an important truth. Because the Bible also claims that the world has a hidden ruler, someone with extraordinary powers who demands the allegiance of everyone on the planet. Matthew’s Gospel tells a beautiful story to illustrate this truth:

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem.

Who would these men have been?

Not three kings, but astrologer-priests from Persia – highly informed politicians who knew something was happening in royal circles that would turn the world upside down.

Where would they have expected to find royalty?

They went to King Herod's palace in Jerusalem asking,

Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.

How would you expect Herod to react?

When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born.

Why should Herod fear?
Herod was one of the most and feared tyrants in history, but he was only a puppet. He had been put on the throne by the Romans overlords and could have been removed just as quickly. Thus he was deeply insecure, and when he sent his minions to find out more, they found an ancient prophecy:

“And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.”

What does this prophecy tell us about the kind of ruler King Jesus will be?

He will rule in the way a shepherd rules his flock, i.e. firmly but gently, defending, feeding, healing, searching out the lost, even laying down his life for them.

What's the relevance of this for today?
It's rare if ever that we see a national government living up to this ideal. So often we see our governments pursuing policies that are alien to the teaching of Jesus, and it can be hard to know how to react as Christians.

So how do we decide whom to obey?
It can be particularly difficult for Evangelicals and members of established churches like the Church of England. 
    The traditional Catholic teaching was that one's first obedience is to the Church. But the Protestant Reformers relied on the German states to protect them from the wrath of the Vatican, and, drawing on St. Paul's writings about civil obedience, they rejected the right of the Church to exercise authority over civil governments. 
    In northern Europe in particular, obedience to the government came to seen as a religious duty. In fact without this tradition Hitler could never have convinced most German people that he was doing God's work.

So how can we find a balance? 
There is an illuminating scene in "The Hiding Place", the autobiography of Corrie ten Boom (set in Nazi-occupied Holland) where she and her family have an argument with the local pastor. He washes his hands of them because they are sheltering Jewish refugees, and tells them that their Christian duty is to obey the Government even if they disagree with its laws. Corrie's father disagrees. His counter-argument is that we must obey the government, but only as long as it does not go against the higher law of God.

If we follow this approach, we will (a) accept that governments are put in place by God, (b) reserve the right to resist a law that fundamentally goes against our Christian conscience, and (c) if we break the law, be willing to accept the penalty. To quote the words attributed to one of the early church fathers, "The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church." 

A final thought...

Bad government is a global epidemic right now, but there’s reason for hope. The Bible makes clear that Jesus rules not just as king, but as king of kings, as ruler over all other rulers. His gentle rule as a shepherd is the standard by which they will be judged, and in Advent we look forward to a time when every knee will bow at his name.

Heavenly Father, we ask you to make Jesus very real to the people in our community this Christmas. In the face of the oppression we  see around the world, keep our eyes fixed on Christ, the King of Kings who rules like a shepherd gently tending his flock. Helps us to be good citizens, but give us the courage to stand up against injustice in Jesus' name even when it is costly to do so…  Amen. 

WOMEN BISHOPS: Hopefully My Last Post

I am convinced that a Yes vote for the Women Bishops measure in General Synod next week is the best way forward for men and women in the Church, and for the Church as a whole.

The Measure is not perfect, but may I suggest that this is not a time for dwelling on our 

perception of absolute rights and wrongs, but a time for pragmatism, and a time for generosity of spirit in accordance with the example of Jesus.

I empathise deeply with women who feel that the Measure perpetuates a kind of discrimination - even a two-tier episcopacy - but believe that holding out for an overnight levelling of the playing field would result in a set-back for equality. It would also continue to distract the Church from its real mission of ministering to the world.

I empathise just as deeply with men and women who believe that the traditional ordering of church leadership is a revealed, perpetual ordinance. However, there are times and seasons in God's providence, and I believe this is a time to open our ears to what the Spirit might be saying to the churches.

Here, I believe trust is called for. The Church of England has survived for several hundred years as a house in which theological adversaries have worshipped and prospered together. Can we not trust one another to make space for one another as we have done in the past, rather than each faction demanding church-wide adherence to its norms?

Whatever your decision, At the time of writing there is still just time to lobby your General Synod representatives. 

SEEDS AND WEEDS (Matthew 13:24-30,36-43)

My wife, Kate, is immensely keen on gardening. She spends a lot of time each Spring planting seeds carefully, one-by-one, in little plastic tubs. Until they’re tough enough to plant out, they live on the conservatory window-sill. She feeds them, and waters them, and any weeds that hitch a ride in the compost are pinched out the second they appear. Now, if I was to suggest to Kate that she leave the weeds to grow up with the flowers, I imagine she would give me one of those looks. But that’s exactly what the landowner tells his labourers to do in the parable we heard earlier. What are we meant to draw from that?

In these weeks leading up to Advent, the Church focuses on the idea of the coming Kingdom. It’s a massively important topic, and one that was central to Jesus’ teaching. But it’s not an easy concept to understand, and it’s not one that plays well to the 21^st century mind-set.  In short, Jesus tells his followers over and over again – in stories, lessons or actions – that the world will not always look the way it does now. On the contrary, he makes clear that history is heading towards an unimaginable climax, a time when all of creation will see the victory of God’s rule and God’s values.

It’s that final victory, and the journey towards it, that we think of each year in the month before Advent. But it’s not an easy doctrine to assert with confidence at this point in history. Gone are the centuries in which it was deemed foolishness to challenge the teaching of the Bible. Gone even are the clear battle-lines between religion and science that I grew up with. We are at a point in history where most people don't know what to believe or whom to believe in. The media, the scientific community, the public services, the government.. all are struggling to retain the public’s trust. The Church has taken blow after blow to its credibility. And the greedy and the wicked seem ever less unaccountable for their actions. In a spiritual and moral vacuum like this, how can we confidently proclaim that God is in control, and that the world is moving towards the establishment of his Kingdom?

There’s nothing new in this kind of confusion; in fact many historians have commented on the parallels between our own cultural mood and the world Jesus was born into. And as Jesus addresses the doubts and fears of his 1^st century followers, he throws light on our own chaotic times.

The first question that Jesus’ words help to illuminate, is this:

Is God really working his purpose out as year succeeds to year?

Or has morality broken down too far to believe that he is in control.

Jesus reassures his followers – then and now - that God is in control of history. He won’t allow the wicked, the oppressors, those who oppose his rule, to escape justice forever. It’s an important reminder, because it’s become fashionable in some Christian circles to play down any concept of divine judgment. But to leave judgment out of the picture is to portray God as unjust. Jesus makes clear that his Father knows what’s in each person’s heart, and that he will act. Far from being too uncompromising a message for the modern world, it’s a message of hope that the modern world desperately needs to hear.

But that leaves the way open for a follow-up question: If God is in control, and knows the hearts of men and women, why is he letting the wicked get away with it for so long?

It’s a fair question, and Jesus wants to reassure his listeners that God has a good reason for allowing evil to continue unchecked for the time being. In the story, the landowner allows the wheat and the weeds to grow up together until harvest-time. His main concern is avoiding damage to tender young plants. Infant shoots look much the same, but when they grow up and bear fruit it’s very easy to tell them apart. This revelation of God’s patience is good news for those budding Christians who are still unsure whether they fully belong to him. But I think the people Jesus most wants to hear this are the spiritually proud, those of us who think we know who is of God and who isn’t. It’s so easy to be judgmental, to presume that we know who is in tune with God, to draw up a mental list of those we should or shouldn’t work with. Jesus’ words call us to leave the judging to God, and to work with whom we can to push out the boundaries of the Kingdom.

The third and final question is a very practical one: In this age of spiritual and moral confusion, when there is such ingrained suspicion of authority figures and truth claims, how should we go about sharing the message of the Kingdom with the outside world?

The answer sounds obvious, but surprisingly few churches do it: We should look at the way Jesus himself communicated the message to a spiritually and morally confused audience. And the first thing we notice is that he doesn’t expect the public to accept a set of beliefs. Rather, what we see him doing is planting seeds of doubt and hope in their minds. We see him telling stories with a twist, performing actions that turned their normal way of thinking on its head. And then, once they had been drawn into his community, and wanted to move on… then he took them somewhere quiet and unpacked the theory behind the stories and the actions. In a similar way, we can’t expect outsiders to the church to be attracted by beliefs and traditions that they’ve been conditioned to regard as primitive or irrelevant. But we can draw people in by being Christ for them, letting Jesus live through us, telling them stories with a hidden meaning, serving them in the way Jesus served while he was on earth. As they are drawn in, they will learn the meaning of the stories and begin to understand all that Jesus Christ has done for us. But the starting point is speaking their language, serving them, defying their expectations.

In summary

• We’re living through a time of spiritual and moral chaos, but God is in control. Precisely because he is merciful and just, people will be held accountable. Jesus himself tells us so.
• It’s tempting to jump to conclusions about people, but only God knows who is his. One day all will be revealed, but for now it’s not our place to judge.
• And finally, we’re being called to proclaim the Gospel in a way that makes sense to the world. To be Christlike, and save the theoretical unpacking, like Jesus himself did, for those who are ready to hear it.

Taken together, Jesus’s words should give us a renewed confidence in the relevance of the Kingdom of God to a confused world, and a patient willingness to keep engaging with the community in loving outreach as we entrust God with the outcomes.

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