St Andrew's Zurich

Photo by Duy Pham on Unsplash

“O taste and see that the Lord is gracious; blessed is the one who trusts in him.”

Well, what a week, no a fortnight, it has been across the world.  There has seemed to be an escalation of violence in all quarters of the earth: examples of different groups threatening, attacking, such belligerence!  I must admit, I have almost felt forced to watch everything unfolding in front of me in terrifying fascination.  And in many ways, whilst watching it all unfold, I have “sought the Lord”, looking for him to answer me and to deliver me from all my fears.  I was particularly concerned on Wednesday when the violence seemed to be approaching those I love.  I could hardly concentrate on other things.  And so,  “I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.”  At least, that’s how it seemed.  Suddenly something happened.  Something was different.  Peace, hope and reconciliation took to the streets, sat around the negotiating tables, settled in the midst of the troubles and spoke: “peace.”  The expected violence dissipated and in its place people from all walks of life, all backgrounds, nationalities, faiths and none, came together courageously and said: we are one body.  And in another corner of the world, the threat of retaliation was eased, even if only temporarily, and the threat of escalation receded.  Someone, somewhere was speaking truth to our neighbours.

“O taste and see that the Lord is gracious; blessed is the one who trusts in him.”  There is so much going on in our readings today, but they all show us something of what it means to trust in God, to follow Jesus.  Jesus, the one who stood up to violence, who in the face of violence against himself spoke the words of love, forgiveness, reconciliation with each other and with God: “Father forgive, they know not what they do.”  Jesus, the one who gave his own flesh for the life of the world.  The flesh we receive every Sunday in the bread and wine of Communion.  “Take eat, this is my body given for you, eat it in remembrance of me”, in remembrance of what I do for you, what I have done for you.  Eat it in remembrance that through his body and blood, the bread and wine, we have been redeemed and have eternal life in him who is “the living bread that came down from heaven” and who came and dwelt amongst us, spoke peace, and took away our fear: “Do not be afraid”.  Jesus is the living bread, that gives us life:  as Malcolm Guite writes: “And then comes One who speaks into our needs Who opens out the secret hopes we cherish Whose presence calls our hidden hearts to flourish Whose words unfold in us like living seeds Come to me, broken, hungry, incomplete, I Am the Bread of Life, break Me and eat.” (1)

But what does it mean to live as partakers of the bread of life?  Well, I think we got a glimpse of that this week, and it is spelled out clearly in the Epistle today.  This week we saw people speaking “truth to (their) neighbours”, people who saw themselves as members of one another.  We saw people coming together to build up the community, each other, not trying to break it down, or divide and sow hatred.  We saw people reaching out to those who were being oppressed, who were made to feel unwanted, alone, and offer them hope.  We saw people being “kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another.”  We saw people acting out the love of God in the streets, standing between those who hate and those they hated and speaking peace.  I started the week feeling numbed by the violence, confused by humanity’s ability to hate, to destroy.  But by Thursday morning I was re-inspired.  There was something bigger at work in the world, moving people to stand up and speak out, to come out and build up each other.  If the Holy Spirit had been grieving at the beginning of the week, then by the end of it the Spirit was moving over the face of the chaos and inspiring acts of courage, love and hope.  “I sought the Lord, and he answered me, and delivered me from all my fears.”

Now, I’m not saying it is all over, that universal peace is now established.  But I think this week we saw a glimpse of the power of the kingdom of God working in the hearts, hands and voices of people across the world.  Because, being partakers of the bread of life, the bread which brings freedom, hope and love, is an active thing, not a passive reception.  When we take the bread and wine, we do so to remember an act of pure love, that sacrifice made in love for all upon the cross.  For all upon the cross.  The sacrifice which brings forgiveness and salvation and hope.  From this gift of the bread of life we are to be filled with the Holy Spirit and then go out into the world, taking the bread of life within us, with us, and sharing that broken body with the world by “putting away all falsehood, speaking truth to our neighbours, for we are members of one another.”  We are to show in our own bodies and actions that it is possible to put away bitterness, wrath, anger, wrangling, malice and slander in order to show kindness to one another, to be tenderhearted, forgiving as we are forgiven: “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us”.  And this means living these gifts in our daily lives – doing simple acts of kindness; being forgiveness; living the prayer of St Francis and being channels of peace, bringing love where there is hate; turning the other cheek, but also strong to step forward and speak truth into situations.  And we do this safe in the knowledge that we are not alone, that we are doing what Christ has already done for the world, for us; that we are speaking into situations that Christ is already speaking into.  We are called to join in with the work of the kingdom wherever we see it in action, just as we saw it in action this week on the streets of the UK, rebuilding that which others had tried to destroy, in action anywhere where people stand up together for peace, hope and reconciliation. We are to be imitators of God, the God of unconditional love, “and live in love, as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us, a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God”. Christ, the bread of life, the bread given for us for the life of the world in Christ’s own body. “And then comes One who speaks into our needs Who opens out the secret hopes we cherish Whose presence calls our hidden hearts to flourish Whose words unfold in us like living seeds.

“Come to me, broken, hungry, incomplete, I Am the Bread of Life, break Me and eat.” (1)  Amen.

The Revd Jackie Sellin

1. Malcolm Guite “I am the bread of life”  https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2015/07/31/i-am-the-bread-of-life/

Readings: 2 Samuel 11:1-15; Psalm 14; Ephesians 3:14-21; John 6:1-21

From the epistle this morning: “Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever.”

I wonder how many of us have stopped reading a newspaper or watching the news recently?  I have certainly been tempted, and I have certainly heard other people say they have too.  It can seem too depressing, it can make us feel angry, sad, confused, helpless.  Yes, the news at the moment can certainly feel overwhelming, even overpowering.  There is so much going on – wars and conflict in Ukraine, the Holy Land, across Africa, the Middle East; people suffering and dying through lack of food, faulty building, gun and knife crime.  Apparently, in the UK, violence against women has increased over 30% in the past few years.  And wildfires devastating areas of Californian and Canada.  Sometimes it feels like all we can do is be more ostrich, bury our heads in the sand: “Peek a boo, I can’t see you everything must be grand; Boo-ka-Pee you can’t see me as long as I’ve got my head in the sand”, as the Flanders & Swann song goes.  We turn away, helpless in the face of all this darkness, and fearful for the future.  What can we do?  Where can we find enough?  We have 5 loaves and 2 fishes, but that is not nearly enough to solve the world’s problems.

“Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever.” The disciples in the Gospel for today are faced with another seemingly insurmountable problem.  Too many people and not enough food.  ‘Six months’ wages would not buy enough bread for each of them to get even a little.’ Says Philip in response to Jesus.  And yet, Jesus asks the question knowing full well what their answer will be.  “We can’t do that!  OK, so we’ve got this single packed lunch, but how far will that go amongst so many?”  Philip and Andrew must have been astounded at the question, and at Jesus’ seeming expectation that they will have an answer.  But of course, they do have an answer.  It’s standing right in front of them, if they’d only open their eyes.  Time and again throughout the Gospels, the disciples don’t get it, they don’t get Jesus, if you’ll forgive the modern parlance.  He teaches, preaches, shows them who he is, what it means that he is with them, that God is with us, and they still can’t grasp what Jesus’ presence among them means, what it brings.  And so, once again, he shows them: “Make the people sit down.”  And he blesses the bread, gives thanks for it, that small gift from that one small boy, all he had.  And through the power and generosity of God all who eat “were satisfied”.  No, the disciples couldn’t do it on their own, but they could with Christ, because with that simple gift of the loaves and fishes, Jesus could change the situation.  Jesus can change the situation.  Jesus does, and in doing so accomplishes far more than we can ask or imagine.

The disciples have to learn that Jesus is something different, that he gives something different.  Jesus gives the ability to change things, through the power at work within us from him.  The miracle is the power of God working to change things, to transform the world, through us, through our God-given gifts, gifts given by God so that we might share them with the whole world: our own 5 loaves and 2 fishes, our gifts however small and seemingly insignificant. But when these are given back to God with thanks for God to use through us these gifts can make a difference, a huge difference: twelve baskets worth!  If only we let Jesus work in us, through us, with us: in the famous words of Teresa of Avila: “Christ has no body now but yours. No hands, no feet on earth but yours. Yours are the eyes through which he looks compassion on this world. Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good. Yours are the hands through which he blesses all the world. Yours are the hands, yours are the feet, yours are the eyes, you are his body. Christ has no body now on earth but yours.” (1).

Because we are Jesus’ hands, we are called to do Jesus’ acts, not ours.  And like the people who have just been fed, we have to see that this is God’s doing, God’s plan.  We can’t grab Jesus and make him a king in our image, make him what we want him to be, fit our view of the Messiah.  It is for us to be changed by him, to be made into the people Jesus wants us to be, who God wants us to be. People who look with compassion on this world through God’s eyes.  We are called to use ourselves and the gifts God gives us to work with Christ.  Because these gifts are given to us so that we can share them, use them, for the good of all: the common good.  They are there to be used by God to transform us and through that transformation to transform the world, to bring the kingdom on earth: thy will be done, Lord.  We, like the disciples, have to recognise Jesus in the darkness of the world, in the storm, and follow him.  Share him.  We can’t keep him in our boat, instead we must follow him to shore through the darkness, listening to his voice: “It is I, do not be afraid.”  Through the darkness of our own lives, through the darkness of the world, the power of Christ is there: “It is I, do not be afraid”, guiding, like the beam of a lighthouse, towards the dawn through the storms.  If we choose to see him, recognise him and follow him, and allow him to use our gifts to bring that light, that hope.

Yes, the news is full of darkness, but if we turn away the darkness is still there.  The ostrich is still surrounded by whatever it fears even with its head in the sand.  But if we stand with Christ, offer our 5 loaves and 2 fishes to God, our gifts, with thanksgiving, then Christ can use these, can use us, to make a difference.  It may not be a dramatic difference, we are only asked to shine “you in your small corner and I in mine”, but Jesus bids us shine out: “for all around many kinds of darkness in this world abound” (2), but we know that “God is with the company of the righteous” and those who would confound the plans of the poor will find that “the Lord is their refuge”, is our refuge.  Christ has no body but ours, no hands, feet or eyes.  It is through us, through the power at work within us, that Christ can achieve so much more than we can alone.  We are not alone: God is with us, his spirit is here.  And ours “are the hands through which he blesses the world.”  So, lifting our heads and hands towards Christ, let us shine in the darkness, “you in your small corner and I in mine”. Look to where God is at work in the world, and join in.  “Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever.” Amen.

Revd Jackie Sellin

1. https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/66880-christ-has-no-body-now-but-yours-no-hands-no
2. https://hymnary.org/text/jesus_bids_us_shine_with_a_pure_clear_li

Readings: 2 Samuel 7:1-14a; Psalm 89:20-37; Ephesians 2:11-22; Mark 6:30-34,53-56

“For he is our peace; he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall.”

From the Guardian, November 1989: “They crossed the border with incredible joy, amazement, tears and good humour. They sang and sparkled, above, below and beside the Berlin Wall. It was one of those very rare, absolutely electrifying, moments when the ordinary lay people take over and all the professionals – from prognosticators to border guards – get quietly out of the way.” (1)  I am sure I am not alone amongst those of a certain age who can remember vividly the events of early November 1989.  Those first few late night news reports of people physically tearing chunks of the Wall with any implements they had; clambering over; sitting on top of the Wall.  A concerted, united effort to reunite, reconcile, two divided communities back into one.  It was inspiring, an event filled with hope, joy and the message of peace.  And I must admit, these are images I recall when the news today is of division, separation, prejudice and hate.  When leaders talk of building walls, physically and virtually, between neighbours; when they speak of the dangers of “the other”, anyone who is different for whatever reason; when social media stokes fears and promotes ideas of hate and sending those who are different away to protect our people. 

“For he is our peace; in his flesh he has made both groups into one and has broken down the dividing wall”.  Christ is our peace. He has reconciled us all to God in one body by the cross.”  Christ has broken down the dividing wall!  The letter writer to the Ephesians is very clear about what they believe God thinks of such division, of such deliberate separations, of building walls.  In Christ, God seeks to “create in himself one new humanity … thus making peace”, reconciling us all to God and “putting that hostility to death.”  And yet we sing: “In Christ there is no east or west, in him no south or north, but one great fellowship of love throughout the whole wide earth”. (H353).  Because breaking down the barriers which divide nation from nation, neighbour from neighbour, is not a nice-to-have, it is an essential part of God’s plan, God’s hope for humanity.  God’s hope that we will love one another as Christ has loved us.  That we will love our neighbour as ourself, because God first loved us, loved us so much through the Son, the Good Shepherd, the one who looks with compassion on his people, and reaches out to draw them to him, to be gathered in God’s arms together united through divine and human love.

Our epistle is full of words of reconciliation, of atonement – at one-ment with God through Christ.  And these words of reunion echo Paul’s words to the Galatians: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28).  We are all reconciled to God through Christ: the same God who “when we were still far off, met us in the Son and brought us home”, as the alternative post communion prayer tells us.  In Christ we are reconciled to God and to each other.  And this means there should be no barriers between God’s people, between God’s children, between any people.  We should love one another, each other, all, with a pure heart fervently, as I quoted last week from Wesley’s beautiful anthem. 

It is this unity, this recognition of reconciliation that has guided some of our greatest peacemakers: Archbishop Desmond Tutu worked to end the separation of peoples in South Africa and reunite them again. Martin Luther King Jnr led non-violent action to end Segregation, and in one speech at Brandeis University, spoke of the necessity to seek to love our enemies and to overcome the divisions caused by hate: “As we struggle for justice, as oppressed people all over the world struggle for justice and freedom and human dignity, it is my great hope that we will never succumb to the temptation of indulging in hate”.  He understood that in God, changing the world “is done through loving… a type of love that seeks to redeem”, that seeks reconciliation and not revenge (2).

But what can we do to respond to God’s call for unity, for reconciliation?  There are no Berlin Walls around us to break down.  Or are there?  And if there are, how can we affect the world around us, how can we challenge the fear and hate that divide?  And I think the answer is through Christ and with Christ and in Christ.  Yes, we can change the world, but not by ourselves, not just in our humanity.  Our epistle makes it clear that it is through God’s action in the death and resurrection of the Son that we are reconciled with each other and with God.  It is in Christ that we are made strong, together.  “In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord.”  We are made into the house of God, together, through Christ, and it is this that makes us strong.  It is this that gives us the strength to love, to love all people, to challenge those things that divide us and to live God’s love in the world through our whole beings, and in all our actions.  United with God and with each other through Christ, we are strong, we can stand.  Divided from each other or from God we will fall.  And this unity, this reconciliation through Christ, is the temple God seeks, the house God wishes to build.  One that is “built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God.”  It is this strength in unity, as reconciled people together for God, that will guide us to forgive, to seek justice, to love our enemies and pray for those who persecute us.  It will strengthen us to bring people together, working with all elements of society, all people, so that through us hostility will be “put to death”, and, through new life in Christ, the peace of Christ can be spread into our congregations, our communities and out into the world.  And if we stand together against prejudice, oppression and hatred, in Martin Luther King’s words, not “indulging in hate” (3), but offering love, then God’s will is done, God’s kingdom comes on earth as it is in heaven.  So, as in every Eucharistic prayer, I pray that we will be: renewed by God’s Spirit, inspired by God’s love and united in the body of God’s Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.  “Dear Lord and Father of mankind, forgive our foolish ways! Reclothe us in our rightful mind, in purer lives thy service find, in deeper reverence praise, in deeper reverence praise.” (H152)

1. Editorial, the Guardian 11^th November 1989
2. Martin Luther King Jnr, Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Justice without Violence” lecture at Brandeis https://www.brandeis.edu/now/video-transcripts/mlk-transcript.html
3. Martin Luther King Jnr, Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Justice without Violence” lecture at Brandeis https://www.brandeis.edu/now/video-transcripts/mlk-transcript.html

The Revd Jackie Sellin

Readings: Acts 8:26-40; Psalm 22:25-31; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-8

A question from a poem by Malcolm Guite: “What might it mean to bide and to abide

In such rich love as makes the poor heart glad?” (1)

Words in the English language can create such powerful images and feelings, and many of the most powerful can be found in our worship.  Hope, for instance, for Christians is more than just a passing thought, more than just a wish or wishful feeling.  It is deep, connecting the past with the present and the future and into eternity.  Peace, when spoken by Christ, conjures up a sense of everything being alright: he is here. “Peace be with you.”  Even when inside we are churning or our thoughts are distracted, hearing “Peace”, “Peace be with you”, can still us and bring us – even if only temporarily – rest and peace.  And I think abide is also one of these words.  Nowadays it means to tolerate something, or to accept a decision.  But in our readings this morning it has a deeper meaning which, for me, brings me home.  Abide. Dwell with me, in me and I will dwell with and in you. This is comfort.  We sing of this deep abiding in that great hymn: abide with me, fast falls the eventide, the darkness deepens, Lord with me abide.  In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. (2)  Dwell with me.  Stay with me, in all I have to face, and all will be well.

And today we have some beautiful passages full of imagery and hope and peace.  And abiding.  From the epistle: God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”  We are called to abide in love, in God’s love, in love for and from God and for and with each other.  If we abide in love, we abide in God and God abides in us.  It is a deep and intimate indwelling, intimacy.  Abiding, we are home in God’s love and God’s love is home in us.  That is comforting. That is hope and peace and love.  It is the comfort of knowing that if we love God, if the love of God dwells in us, abides in us, and we abide, dwell, in the love of God, then, as Julian of Norwich says: all shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.

But there is much more than this in the word abide, in what it actually means to abide in God and for God to abide in us.  And for this we turn to the Gospel.  Abiding in God, in Jesus, if we truly allow God’s love to abide in us, then and only then can we be fruitful, can our actions bear the fruit of the Spirit.  Only when we abide in God and he in us can we become who God hopes we will be, who God inspires us to be.   Jesus tells us: “Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me.“ Jesus already abides in us, makes his home in and with us.  We need to be willing to dwell in, to be indwelt by, God, by the Spirit so that we can come to fruition, so that we can do God’s work and God’s plans for us through us can come to fruition.  Without God, without Jesus, without the Spirit, our plans, our fulfilling of our potential in God’s plans will come to nothing.  It is imperative that we abide in God and God abides in us for us to be disciples.  Only by abiding in and being abided in we can become true disciples, true messengers, true followers of Christ and live his life and message in the world, filled and guided by the Spirit and love of God. 

So how do we abide in God and let God abide in us?  How do we know we are abiding?  It is through our actions.  It is through showing this in our love for others, our true love for others.  The love that follows the example of Christ, who first loved us. The love of God who loves us from the beginning to the end and beyond.  Who abides in us in life and in death, as the hymn tells us.  The epistle tells us that: “We love because (Jesus) first loved us.”  Jesus’ love shown and given to us inspires our love for others.  We cannot say that God is with us, is abiding in us if we hate others, if we do not show that we love our brothers and sisters, all God’s children.  Again, from the epistle: “Those who say, ‘I love God’, and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.”  If God’s love truly abides in us then we will seek an end to hatred, to prejudice, to conflict.  If God abides in us, and God’s love fills our hearts then we will seek peace and hope and love between those who hate, between those who are in conflict. Because it is only through allowing the love of God to abide in our hearts, allowing Jesus to truly abide and dwell within us that we will be able to love, to forgive, and to deeply love our neighbour, our fellow children of God, as deeply as God loves us.  There is no room for hatred in the Kingdom of God.  As Malcolm Guite says: “Only through Christ and the way of the cross will you conquer. Only when you love your enemies and bless those who persecute you, only when you meet your adversaries with the words “Father, forgive” will Christ, who is love, conquer through you” (3).  We can only come to fruition and bear good fruit if God, Jesus dwells within us and through his love, in his love, with his love, we show this in our love for God and our love for each other and all people.  And this answers the question Malcolm Guite’s poem puts to us: What might it mean to bide and to abide In such rich love as makes the poor heart glad? (1)  It means peace, hope and above all love.  Love for and from God and love for and of our neighbour.  Whoever and wherever they are.  And so, I pray that God’s love may abide deep within us and that we may all abide deeply in God, in God’s love, and that we will show this by going out into the world to live, work and love all God’s people to God’s praise and glory.  As the epistle says: “The commandment we have from him is this: those who love God must love their brothers and sisters also.”  By doing this we show we abide in God and do God’s will.  And, And as Jesus tells us: ”My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.”  Amen.

1. https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2016/04/11/i-am-the-vine-a-sonnet/
2. Hymn 6, Hymns Old and New, Kevin Mayhew
3. Malcolm Guite Poet’s Corner (25/8/2023) https://www.churchtimes.co.uk/articles/2023/25-august/comment/columnists/malcolm-guite-poet-s-corner

Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

The spirit of the living God, unseen but ever near, is in such friendship better known alive among us here. (a)

I love doing jigsaw puzzles, when I have the time and space.  Yes, they can be frustrating when all you seem to have are pieces of sky and sea, and all seem to be the same colour, no clues as to which goes where, the subtle difference in shade and texture hidden for a moment, and the trials and errors of trying every piece, even the ones that really, really aren’t right, and no peeking at the box lid!  But there is excitement, the gradually drawing together of the picture, as each of us puts their piece in and slowly, gradually, we begin to see the whole. 

Luke’s account of the resurrection can seem a little like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle coming together.  Simon Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved seeing the empty tomb and the linen cloths; Mary Magdalene seeing Jesus through her tears, but told not to stay and hug but to go forward and tell others; the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, so caught up in their grief and shock that Jesus can be walking alongside them for miles and they still don’t recognise him – the pieces don’t fit together until that familiar action: the breaking and the blessing of the bread. And here today we have the disciples together in the upper room.  The two disciples from Emmaus have come rushing in to tell their news, to put their piece of the jigsaw in the picture, only to be told: yes, we know, Simon has seen him; Mary has seen him.  But is the jigsaw yet complete?  Do they really see the full picture?  Can it really be that the risen Jesus is revealed through their individual experiences, their stories?

And then: “While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, ‘Peace be with you’.  Again, a familiar phrase, the words you’d want to hear in that state of nervous, possibly fearful, definitely confused, excitement.  “They were startled and terrified”.  The pieces of the jigsaw coming together in front of them, standing there.  “See that it is I myself” Look at my hands and my feet.  “Touch me and see”.  And still the pieces don’t seem to make sense. 

And no wonder.  This isn’t the jigsaw they thought they would be making.  They thought that the main piece, the most important piece, the cornerstone that the builders had rejected, was missing.  Permanently.  And so, Jesus fills them in; he puts himself back in the picture through the power of God.  And he “(opens) their minds to understand the scriptures”, to understand what has happened, and why.  That Christ is risen: he is risen indeed, alleluia!  His resurrection reflected in the Scriptures. As Zephaniah states: “Shout aloud, O daughter Zion, shout O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart” “The Lord is in your midst”. And the lame shall be saved, the outcast gathered in. Shame will turn to praise and all will be brought home.  Because, as Peter says: “The God of our ancestors has glorified his servant Jesus … the Author of life whom God raised from the dead.”  Christ is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia! 

The pieces come together, but the jigsaw is not quite finished. In fact, the jigsaw won’t be finished until Christ comes again. Until the kingdom of God is established, and justice and mercy will be seen in all the earth.  Until repentance and forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to all.  Until all know that our sins are wiped out, as Peter also declares. 

Because the pieces of the resurrection story continue to be put into the jigsaw of life.  The disciples were sent out to proclaim the word, the Good News.  To speak peace to all; to bring peace to all; to save the lame, the lost, and release those suffering oppression: just as Jesus declared at the beginning of his ministry, again in Luke’s Gospel: ‘The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free,to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.’  That is the mission passed on to the disciples, to be proclaimed to all nations, to add more pieces to the jigsaw.  To proclaim the message that God is love, that God loves all, and that God’s love is for all, God’s forgiveness is for all, and all are equal in God’s sight.  And that is the mission passed on to us, as followers of Christ, as Christians.  To proclaim the good news to the poor, to reach out to the marginalised, the oppressed and the unloved and reveal God’s love to them.  To bring them into the jigsaw of God’s plan, the picture of the resurrection that Luke so carefully puts together for us in the experiences and responses of the disciples.  Those same disciples who were gladdened with the sight of the risen Lord.  The Lord, whose Spirit is with us too, unseen but ever near.  Whose friendship is alive within us, among us here (a).  A presence that meets us where we are, in our upper rooms, on our roads of life, so that: together met, together bound by all that God has done, we’ll go with joy, to give the world the love that makes us one (a).  To fill in the missing pieces of the jigsaw until it is completed by Christ himself.  And so I pray, in the words of the collect: Almighty Father, who in your great mercy gladdened the disciples with the sight of the risen Lord: give us such knowledge of his presence with us, that we may be strengthened and sustained by his risen life and serve you continually in righteousness and truth; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.  Amen.

1. 328 I come with joy, Anglican Hymns Old and New ed. Kevin Mayhew, (2008) Kevin Mayhew Ltd

O love, how deep, how broad, how high! It fills the heart with ecstasy, that God, the Son of God, should take our mortal form for mortals’ sake. (a)

And so, just two weeks after the end of Epiphany, we begin our walk with Christ to Jerusalem.  It can seem very appropriate that Lent begins at a time of year when the sky can be grey, weather can be grim and the joy and excitement of the Christmas season seems far off.  And yet, as Rowan Williams tells us (1), although Lent begins grey and misty, it ends in Spring, as leaves, flowers and the whole natural world breaks into beauty and colour, just as Lent leads into the joy and beauty of Easter and the Resurrection, with its promise of hope, love and warmth. 

Because of course, Lent is a journey.  It is a journey from contemplation to reformation – if I may use that word in Zurich – and then to expectation and finally exaltation.  It is a time to examine ourselves, our motives and our whole lives.  To bring them into the light that dispels the darkness, and to reflect.  But the journey does not stop there, in that state of contemplation, looking inward, we are to step further along the road, to renew ourselves, renew our promises to God, and to God’s people, and re-calibrate our lives, turning to Christ once more, to the light that lightens all people. 

Our readings express this turning around quite beautifully.  They call on us to look at what we are doing, and at the reasons why we are doing it.  Why do we come to church?  Why do we pray, give alms, give up things for Lent?  Is it for ourselves?  To show others how holy we are?  To make ourselves feel better?  Or is it to glorify God?  Do we want our actions to be seen and “praised by others” or do we do them because it is right, because they make a difference in the world, in the lives of others? Because it is good in the eyes of God?  Is it for earthly glory, or do we “store up for ourselves treasures in heaven”?  Where is our heart in all this?

I see Lent as a compass.  A chance to check the direction of my heart, of my longing, of my worship.  What does the deep, broad, high, inescapable love of God mean to me? To all of us?  Because Lent is about love, that love so broad, so deep, so high that Christ journeyed to Jerusalem, to the cross, and to the resurrection.  We need time to look deeply at the love of God and change the direction of our love, our thoughts, our lives.  To make our fasting time acceptable to God in our day-to-day actions of service.  Not shouted from the rooftop expecting praise and adoration!  But quietly turning to Christ and fulfilling his commands to love God and to love our neighbour.  To change the world and hasten the coming of the kingdom.  As Isaiah tells us: “Is not this the fast God chooses – to loose the bonds of injustice, to let the oppressed go free; to share your bread with the hungry and satisfy the needs of the afflicted.”  And if we do these things, quietly, daily, as part of our routine, our ordinary way of life, then God “who sees in secret will reward you”.

O love, how broad, how deep, how high.  The love that journeyed from birth at Bethlehem to death and then resurrection in Jerusalem. The love that calls us to walk alongside and be transformed.  The love that calls us also to take this Lenten time to look deeply inside ourselves, at our motives and intentions, and re-tune the compass of our lives by turning once again to God and tuning in to his Love, his Word, his Son.  To remember that we are dust and to dust we shall return, therefore we should turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ. 

And Ash Wednesday is just the start of this process, the beginning of the journey of our renewal, the journey to Jerusalem, to the cross and to the renewal of hope and promise in the resurrection.  The imposition of ashes marks our resolve to follow in Christ’s footsteps, to turn once again to him for guidance, strength and as the focus of our lives. Lent gives space for the transformation of our hearts into ones filled with God’s love so that we can go forth living lives that reveal that love to the world in our words and deeds.  So, as we walk our journey through Lent, contemplate, reflect, re-form, expect and finally exalt as we meet our risen Lord on Easter Day.

And now, “to him whose boundless love has won salvation for us through his son, to God the Father glory be, both now and through eternity.”(a) 

Amen.

(a) Hymn 570 O love, how broad, how deep, how high, Anglican Hymns  Old and New (2008) Kevin Mayhew Ltd, Suffolk

1. Rowan Williams Lent Video transcript http://rowanwilliams.archbishopofcanterbury.org/pages/lent-video.html (24/2/2012)

Readings: Malachi 3:1-5; Psalm 24; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:22-40

“Restore, O Lord, the honour of your name, in works of sov’reign power come shake the earth again, that all may see, and come with rev’rent fear to the living God, whose kingdom shall outlast the years.”

Many, many years ago, just as I started my teaching career, my parents and I went to Paris – my first time there.  I had my expectations of what Paris should be like, after all I’d seen “The Aristocats”.  One evening, we went to Montmartre, and boy was it busy – all bustle, noise and people!  We went up the Funicular (Mark would have been proud of me) and at the top is Sacre Coeur standing like a pristine wedding cake glistening over the city.  Again, it was surrounded by street sellers, crowds of tourists and noise.  We went in.  I’m not sure what I was expecting – probably something like the other, ornate Catholic Cathedrals I’d been in before.  What I found was completely different.  Candlelight – the whole place seemed lit only by candles.  And a peacefulness that was a beautiful counter to the busyness outside.  I found a sanctuary.  Dare I say it, I found God unexpectedly there in the midst of that busy, touristy site.  Not at all what I expected.  I certainly hadn’t expected to find the Lord whom I seek that evening, there.

“That all may see and come with rev’rent fear to the Living God.”  So, a few questions. What do you expect to find when you come into St Andrew’s?  Were you, like Simeon, guided by the Spirit to come here today?  Did you come expecting to find “The Lord whom you seek”?  Should we come to church with an expectation of meeting the Living God?  And, do we meet him here?  After all, for the Jews at the time of Jesus and before, the Temple was precisely where they expected to meet God. That was what the prophets had told them: “and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple”, says Malachi.  The Temple was where, in the words of Very Rev. Dr David Hoyle, God was expected to come in his “overwhelming glory”. (1)  And when the Lord appeared, they expected things to change: wrongs would be righted, and the world shaken, turned upside down.  Not the all-enfolding peacefulness I found in Sacre Coeur, but the Almighty in all the Almighty’s glory, restoring the honour of his name and shaking the earth, as the hymn tells us.  This is perhaps what Simeon expected in his looking for the consolation of Israel (2).  But, when the Lord did return to his temple, things were rather different.  It was not quite what was expected.  The Messiah appears in his mother’s arms, amongst the crowds, waiting his turn to be presented to the priests. Probably just one of the many children brought to the temple that day so that the parents could make the offerings and give thanks to God.  In the midst of the hurly burly of the Temple, the Lord who was sought came: as Hoyle describes it: “Christ who himself is the Living God comes to the Temple where everybody is looking precisely to find the Living God but the only people who notice are an old man who dreams and a very old woman high on faith.” (3)  No-one expected the Messiah to come as a baby in a manger, as a baby to the Temple, as one who shares flesh and blood with the “children” of God, as Paul puts it.  And yet, here, quietly, amongst his people, the Messiah is found and revealed, and reveals the power and purposes of God. Those purposes spoken of by Simeon: he is to challenge us, to bring us home to God, and to be a light to all people, to bring the light and hope to all the world, not just one part, not just to us but to everyone: a light to lighten all Gentiles. 

And of course, this expectation of hope and light is a challenge to us and to the whole world.  Malachi warns of God’s concern for those who are oppressed by others, those who are devalued, the aliens who are “thrust aside” and the oppressed hired workers, widows and orphans, those who are marginalised, ignored, despised, dehumanised.  Because the life, ministry, and mission of Christ, passed on to us, is to spread the hope, the love of God and the light of Christ into all those dark places, to those who are pushed out of the light.  In Rowan Williams’ words: the glory, radiance and beauty of God’s people “is that they are there for the world.” (4).  We come to the Temple to meet God, to find him there amongst us in our worship, but we cannot, as Williams goes on to say, stay bathed in God’s presence safe and secure, like me in Sacre Coeur.  We need to be inspired to take that presence with us out into the world, share it and allow it to affect others. (5)

And this is where Simeon’s warning comes in.  Taking the loving, peaceful message of God to the world will challenge others, will open us to ridicule, persecution, lies and rejection, just as it did Jesus.  The idea that God loves all people, that God cares, wonderfully, openly, unconditionally for all is something some people find difficult to take, to understand or to share.  It challenges assumptions and prejudices. It challenges status, privilege and power.  That the poor man at the castle gate matters as much to God as the rich man in the castle and should be treated as such challenges people’s ideas and identity.  This is why: ”this child is destined for the falling and rising of many, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed”.  And that is precisely the God, the Living God, we find here in our churches, in our worship and in our lives.  The God who challenges us to rethink our ideas, our prejudices and preconceptions. Williams quotes William of Thierry to describe how the love of God works, and how the mission of Christ works with this: “The love of truth drives us from the world to God; the truth of love drives us from God to the world.” (6)  We turn to God to seek God’s love and truth, but we cannot stay there, we are summoned, sent, to take that love and truth out to the world, to reveal the light and hope of Christ to the world and work with God, through the Holy Spirit, to transform the world, bringing in the kingdom that “shall outlast the years.” As Williams puts it: the light is for us, yes, but also for all people, and we are to take that light and hope to all peoples, especially those in need: “That joy is for sharing” (7).  Because, as we have just sung: “This your great deliverance sets your people free; Christ their light uplifted all the nations see.”

So, come expecting to find the Living God here; look for him; expect him in the unexpected, to be the unexpected, revealed through the unexpected, and then take the Living God out with you into the world outside and share the light, the love and the hope of the Living God with all, especially those we see who need it most.  And God will go with you and give you strength to stand in his presence and serve him.  Amen.

1. Sermon on The Feast of the Presentation of Christ 2020

The Very Reverend Dr David Hoyle Dean of Westminster

: https://www.westminster-abbey.org/fr/abbey-sermons/candlemas-2020#i11575

2. Sermon on The Feast of the Presentation of Christ 2020

The Very Reverend Dr David Hoyle Dean of Westminster

: https://www.westminster-abbey.org/fr/abbey-sermons/candlemas-2020#i11575

3. Sermon on The Feast of the Presentation of Christ 2020

The Very Reverend Dr David Hoyle Dean of Westminster

: https://www.westminster-abbey.org/fr/abbey-sermons/candlemas-2020#i11575

4.Rowan Williams St Mary Magdalen Festival Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple p.3 http://www.stmarymagdalenoxford.org.uk/files/sermons/St%20Mary%20Magdalen%20Festival%20Weekend%202018%20Candlemas.pdf

5. Rowan Williams St Mary Magdalen Festival Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple p.4 http://www.stmarymagdalenoxford.org.uk/files/sermons/St%20Mary%20Magdalen%20Festival%20Weekend%202018%20Candlemas.pdf

6. Rowan Williams St Mary Magdalen Festival Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple p.5 http://www.stmarymagdalenoxford.org.uk/files/sermons/St%20Mary%20Magdalen%20Festival%20Weekend%202018%20Candlemas.pdf

7. Rowan Williams St Mary Magdalen Festival Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple p.8

http://www.stmarymagdalenoxford.org.uk/files/sermons/St%20Mary%20Magdalen%20Festival%20Weekend%202018%20Candlemas.pdf

Hymns: 639 “Restore O Lord” Anglican Hymns Old and New

           167 “Faithful vigil ended” Anglican Hymns Old and New

Photo by Daniel Lerman on Unsplash

Genesis 14:17-20; Psalm 128; Revelation 19:6-10; John 2:1-11

Here’s an epiphany to have and hold,
A truth that you can taste upon the tongue,
No distant shrines and canopies of gold
Or ladders to be clambered rung by rung,
But here and now, amidst your daily living,
Where you can taste and touch and feel and see,
The spring of love, the fount of all forgiving,
Flows when you need it, rich, abundant, free.

Better than waters of some outer weeping,
That leave you still with all your hidden sin,
Here is a vintage richer for the keeping
That works its transformation from within.
‘What price?’ you ask me, as we raise the glass,
‘It cost our Saviour everything he has.’ (1)

How good are you at noticing things?  There have been lots of TV programmes looking at how reliable we are as witnesses, how well we look and observe our surroundings, even remembering someone we’ve just met.  What was their accent? What colour hair?  In one programme I watched, hair colour from witnesses varied from light brown to ginger!  We humans don’t seem to take much notice of what is going on around us on a daily basis.  If an accident or crime happened in front of us, how many of us would really be accurate eye-witnesses?  If you were recalling the events of the wedding at Cana, what would you remember?  What would you have noticed?  No-one there seems to have noticed the quiet man organising the filling of huge water jars which then turn out to contain wine! Well, I suppose if they’ve finished off the first lot of wine, perhaps their powers of perception were a little hazy!

“Jesus did this, the first of his signs, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.”  The disciples certainly noticed something, something different, something special about this man they had chosen to follow.  Well, they wouldn’t have followed him if there wasn’t something.  And at this wedding they get a glimpse of what that something is: a sign, a miracle, an authority.  Jesus changed the situation from one of potential huge embarrassment for the bridegroom and his family to one of amazement: as the steward says: but you have saved the good wine until now!  Jesus changes things, changes something ordinary into something special, something holy.  Quietly, just making things better. But using the everyday, transforming it into something new, whether that is water, bread or wine itself: behold, behold I make all things new beginning with you and starting from today, for I am Christ the way (2).  And most people only notice the superficial, the fact that suddenly they have nice wine to drink, and isn’t that great. What a kind host.  Jesus doesn’t even get the credit!  Unless you were watching, observing, really taking notice of what was going on.  And this watching, observing, awareness is how Rowan Williams describes discipleship: being aware of Jesus’ presence and power to change the world; of seeing Jesus’ actions and expecting change, expecting to see his power at work. (3) This is what the disciples experience at that wedding – they have listened to the call and now they see what Jesus is doing, What he is capable of doing, and his glory is revealed.  And this continues for them throughout Jesus’ ministry from this moment.  Through this gradual opening of their eyes and minds through Jesus’ actions and words the disciples see God and are inspired by the Holy Spirit to continue Jesus’ work, mission and ministry after the Ascension.  This is the Trinity in action. (3)

And we, like the disciples, are called to follow Christ, to look for his power at work in the world, to respond and to join in.  To see the transformation that can happen when God’s love acts through the lives of those around us: when we see kindness, service, self-sacrifice being acted out by those we see.  The doctors and nurses who go to conflict zones to help; the people who donate time or money to organisations that help those in need; those who simply offer a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand, that cup of tea at a stressful time.  All these are signs that reveal Jesus, reveal the love of God in the world and which transform the world, allowing the kingdom to break through.  These small, quiet, “transformations from within”: everyday acts that are transformed by the power of the Spirit into acts that reveal Jesus, reveal God amongst us in the hearts, hands and actions of others.  And we are called not only to notice these, to be aware of what is being done around us, but to join in and become  part of this transforming power ourselves.  To follow Christ by living his work, his mission and ministry in our lives: by welcoming all who come through our doors, by opening our hearts and minds to those in need, by loving God’s people and revealing God’s love in the world through our actions.  We are to live expecting to see and hear Jesus and his power in our lives and in our world.  And to join in.

So, look at the world through Christ’s eyes and expect to see Christ in it.  Williams says, as disciples, we are to watch “with a degree of inner stillness that allows the unexpected world-changing to occur” (3).  Because, as at the wedding in Cana, Jesus’ power and glory are constantly revealed through the everyday, through the ordinary actions of ordinary people inspired by the Spirit, often in the background, easily missed.  Just as when  Christ transformed the everyday by turning the water into wine.  And his power was strong enough to transform even the cross into something new, something more powerful, something holy – the means of hope and salvation. As Malcolm Guite puts it:

‘Here is a vintage richer for the keeping, That works its transformation from within’. ‘What price?’ you ask me, as we raise the glass, It cost our Saviour everything he has.’ (1)
But through the signs of water, bread and wine, the cross, through his power, the world has been and continues to be transformed.  Behold, he makes all things new, beginning with you and starting from today.  Come and join him, he is waiting in the streets for us to take up our discipleship, notice him and act alongside him to continue to transform the world through our everyday kindnesses, challenging injustice, and bringing hope and love.  Amen.

1. Epiphany at Cana https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2019/01/19/an-epiphany-at-cana-2/
2. Bell John L (1984) Come All You People, Iona Community Wild Goose Publications, Glasgow: “Behold I make all things new p.84
3. Williams Rowan 29/04/07 Being Disciples Conference https://www.fulcrum-anglican.org.uk/articles/being-disciples-2007-conference-rowan-williams/
4. Williams Rowan 29/04/07 Being Disciples Conference https://www.fulcrum-anglican.org.uk/articles/being-disciples-2007-conference-rowan-williams/

• Williams Rowan 29/04/07 Being Disciples Conference https://www.fulcrum-anglican.org.uk/articles/being-disciples-2007-conference-rowan-williams/