St Andrew's Zurich

Readings: Isaiah 50:4-9a; Ps 31:9-18; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14-27:54

Truly this man was the Son of God.

Palm Sunday can sometimes feel overlooked, overshadowed by the Gospel set for the day.  We seem to rush from “Hosanna” to “crucify him” with rather undue haste, all in the space of less than a morning.  “Sometimes they strew his way and his sweet praises sing, resounding all the day hosannas to their king. Then crucify is all their breath and for his death they thirst and cry.” In the words of the beautiful hymn.  And then the next verse states the question of the century, Pilate’s question: “Why, what hath my Lord done?”  What hath my Lord done?  And we have to remember that those very people who are shouting and cheering at the man on the donkey coming to claim Jerusalem, are the same ones who bay for his blood barely a week later: within 5 days they go from adulation and worship, to murderous mob, of whom Pilate is so afraid he gives up Jesus to be crucified.

It is easy to condemn the crowd.  To see them as particularly fickle, guilty. We’d never be like that, would we! Would we?  What made these people change?  Well, manipulation for one thing.  Crowds can be easily manipulated, and the cries of hosanna can quickly be transformed into something else by clever, or popular words.  Just look at the way the case against him is fabricated by challenging those things the people held dear: the temple, their beliefs.  Jesus is accused of striking at the heart of everything they held dear.  And then is mocked: who wants to praise someone who is declared a clown or a fraud.  And we can be manipulated too, by popular thoughts and words, by only being given half the information on which to make a judgement.  By being told lies instead of truth by those we should be able to trust.  That crowd could quite easily have been us.

And that is why it is important to walk from the gates of Jerusalem waving our palms, through Holy Week – the cleansing of the temple, the discussions with the Pharisees, the Last Supper, Gethsemane, the trials and crucifixion.  Because Palm Sunday is not the end, it is only part of the journey to beyond the end.  Palm Sunday is only part of the truth of Jesus.  And if the crowd had thought, had really looked at the Messiah riding in under their banners and palm branches, they would have seen the truth of who Jesus is.  They would have seen the truth of what power and glory really is.  The Messiah entered Jerusalem riding on a donkey.  Not on a war horse with an army, but on a donkey supported by a rag tag bunch of fishermen, tax collectors and assorted women.  And yet his words of peace, of God’s love for all, his demands for justice reaching to those at the bottom of society, to the forgotten, the “underserving”, the lowly, are precisely where true hope and life can be found.  It is living with us, being one of us, in all our humanity, in all the highs and lows of human life, in the gutter with the down and out, in the palace with those who claim power and glory, and with the ordinary in their homes and lives, this is where we find the Son of God.  Teaching us to love one another: love your neighbour as yourself, tend the sheep, those in need: visit the prisoner, feed the hungry, clothe the naked, protect the alien/asylum seeker, reach out a hand to those society shuns.  And it is this message of a power that lives among us, a glory shown in love for all people, that threatens the ones who think they have the power, the glory.  They fear sharing power, diminishing their glory.  Just as we can fear sharing our positions of power, of status. 

Jesus enters today on a donkey, and asks us to open our eyes to his message of hope and love to all, for all.  That all are worthy of love, of justice, of an equal sharing of God’s gifts.  That God’s love cannot be hoarded, but needs, demands, to be shared amongst all, spread out into the world, through acts of kindness, love and advocacy for those who cannot speak, who are kept silent.  “Why what hath my lord done? What makes this rage and spite? He made the lame to run he gave the blind their sight.” 

However, we can get stuck on the first few lines of the hymn: “My song is love unknown, my Saviour’s love to me.”  And yes, that love is shown to us.  But not just to us: “Love to the loveless shown that they might lovely be.”  And it is the sharing of that love with the loveless that proves the challenge, both then and now.  The challenge to the status quo, to the value, worth, we place on ourselves compared with the value, worth, in which we see others.  Jesus valued all, saw all as worthy, and came that all may have life in all its fullness.  All.  The love on the cross cannot be contained, it cannot be claimed for one group, one person, just for “me”.  It is a love seen in the cross itself: he opened wide his arms for us on the cross.  For us. For all.

So how are we to respond? How will we respond? Will we walk with Christ the way of the cross, to the foot of Golgotha?  And wait for the outpouring of love?  And watch for hope that morning brings?  Will we stand and open our hearts to the love that pours from his head, his hands, his feet: the sorrow and love that flow mingling down.  And respond with love to God, to our neighbour, to all God’s people, all people?  Will we join the song of love unknown? 

Amen.

Reverend Jackie Sellin

Readings: Ezekiel 37:1-14; Ps 130; Romans 8:6-11; John 11:1-45

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. 
Lord, hear my voice!
Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!
(Ps 130:1)

Many of us will have experienced the pain of loss: the death of a loved one, and so can understand the grief and anger that Martha and Mary express so clearly, so eloquently.  Why?  If only?  Why him/her?  Even an expected death leaves a hole. Like a jigsaw piece missing from the jigsaw, that person is now missing from our lives.  And sometimes, like, Martha and Mary, there is a sense of injustice, of a life taken too early.  And so, Martha and Mary blame Jesus – ‘Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died’.  Many of us will also have expressed that anger, resentment, at God not saving their loved one, not healing, despite prayers.  No one wants to be parted from the one they love so permanently.  No one wants to be parted from life so permanently.  Even Jesus, in the Garden of Gethsemane, prays that death may pass him by: “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me” (Lk 22:42).  It is human to fear death, the separation death brings.  But here, in this story of Lazarus, Jesus does the one thing we would desire: he raises Lazarus.  So why not my mum?  My uncles?  Why Lazarus.  The whole story can seem unfair: if this is possible for Jesus, for God, why doesn’t he stop all loved ones from dying?  Especially as it appears that Jesus does this because he is a good friend of the family!  Jesus demonstrating favouritism?

And yet, we have to look a little deeper into this story to understand what is truly happening.  This is a story packed with emotion and meaning.  And the raising of Lazarus has a deep meaning within the life, death, ministry and mission of Jesus. 

First, the story is about Incarnation – God taking on human form and coming among us – and the reason for the Incarnation.  Here in the story of the raising of Lazarus we see the Incarnation.  God in man made manifest, revealed in Jesus Christ, is filled with compassion: he weeps, he listens, he cares.  He demonstrates full human emotion – the emotions we feel at the death of a loved one.  He demonstrates how deeply he understands the desolation of the two sisters – even more poignant as in the death of Lazarus, they lose not just their brother, but their male protector and possibly their means of income – their lives are potentially completely turned upside down by this death.  But, that day, they weep for the death of a beloved brother, and Jesus weeps with them, for them,  and for his friend.  And here we see before us how God weeps for those who mourn.

And then, through this human emotion we get the power of God displayed. Yes, Lazarus was taken by death, but God, through the presence of Jesus, can overcome death, will overcome death.  This miracle demonstrates what is to come in the resurrection of Jesus.  That there is hope, there is life after death, that God can overcome the darkness.  There is hope in the love of God, in the compassion of God for God’s children.  In the words of Desmond Tutu (1): Goodness is stronger than evil; Love is stronger than hate; Light is stronger than darkness; Life is stronger than death; Victory is ours through him who loved us.

So why only Lazarus?  Why not get rid of death entirely?  Well, Lazarus did die eventually, at the end of his life.  The raising was a demonstration of God’s power, showing death is not final.  We know this because of another action of God in man made manifest.  Jesus could not pass by the cup of death, even though he prayed for this.  Jesus faced a painful but real death on a cross.  But it is through his death as God incarnate that the power of God is revealed in all its fullness.  Because Jesus’ death was not the end: on the third day he rose again, fulfilling his promise and the Scriptures.  Jesus’ resurrection shows that death has no more power over us. That after death, there is eternal life: God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son that we should not perish but have eternal life in him.

Yes, death is painful for us. And Jesus weeps with us as we mourn our loss, just as Jesus wept with Martha and Mary for Lazarus: as his words in the Beatitudes express, blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted (Matthew 5:4).  But Jesus promised us eternal life, that this life is only the beginning. And through his death, resurrection and ascension into heaven he proves this to us: the power of God overcoming the darkness of death and bringing the light of eternal life.

And this is the hope we find in the readings today. That God is all-powerful, omnipotent. That in Jesus, God came to us to bring us eternal life, to show that death is not the end.  To give us true hope, the hope that is, in the words of Bishop Sarah Mullally (2), a “conviction concerning the future which leaps into our present in such a way that we feel secure in the here and now and ready for God’s future.” 

This won’t stop us weeping for the ones we miss, but it should comfort us in our sorrows, that one day we will be with them in our Father’s house of many mansions, where Jesus goes before to show us the way.  Jesus whose comforting words tell us: ‘I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die (John 11:25,26). 

I finish with the prayer of Desmond Tutu (1), which I used earlier: 
Goodness is stronger than evil;
Love is stronger than hate;
Light is stronger than darkness;
Life is stronger than death;
Victory is ours through him who loved us. 

Amen.

Jackie Sellin
Assistant Chaplain

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1. Tutu, D (1995) An African Prayer Book, Hodder and Stoughton, London, p.80
2. Mullally, S, A Good Advent, p.12, in Oakley, M (2016) A Good Year, SPCK, London

Exodus 2:1-10; Psalm 34:11-20; Colossians 3:12-17; Luke 2:33-35

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.

We Anglican women are lucky here in Switzerland.  We get two chances to be remembered by our families: today, following the Anglican Lectionary, and then in May, when Switzerland celebrates Mother’s Day.  I am potentially even luckier, as my older son’s partner is Norwegian, and they celebrate Mothers’ Day on February 11^th, so he has 3 chances to remember me!  Yeah, right.

And yet, as we know, this day in the calendar of services is not just about mothers, important though it is to give thanks for all that all our parents or significant adults do and have done for us.  A chance to say “Thank you” to them and to God for them is no bad thing.  This day is much more than that, it is special in so many ways.  To remember our baptism churches and communities; to remember the family of Christ, of which we are all members.    

And yet, the Old Testament and Gospels today do focus on women, and their response to situations. Just look at what is happening in the story of Moses.  Moses’ very life depends on the women he encounters as a baby.  Moses’ mother, for whom the threat of the soul-piercing sword is also present as she is caught between giving up her son to death at the hands of the Egyptians, by order of the Pharaoh, or putting his life at the mercy of the river, in a reed basket, to be found by someone from the very peoples who want him dead.  Someone from Pharoah’s own family.  And suddenly, Pharoah’s daughter is brought face to face with the enemy as a human baby: crying, scared, alone.  And she feels compassion; she feels sorry for him.  Her heart is melted and she rescues him and is persuaded by another, very canny, young woman to give him to his own mother to nurse!  It is women God uses to move his message, bring his kingdom closer, to initiate salvation.

And in the Gospels for today (I say Gospels because there is a choice of Gospel for Mothering Sunday) again a woman takes centre stage.  Both are about Mary: In Luke, Mary is told of Jesus’ future and the challenge this brings not just to humanity but to her too: and a sword will pierce your own heart too. The other (John 19:25b-27) is when Mary’s heart faces that piercing: she stands at the foot of the cross watching her son, the one she bore, brought up, watched through his childhood, career, and ministry – often fearful for the words he speaks, the actions he does, the direction his life takes him. Not fully understanding but trying to, trying to work out what it all means. And then, this.  She watches the guards throw dice for his clothes as he hangs in pain above her.  And a sword pierces her own heart too.  And then from the cross, Jesus reveals his love for her, protecting her by putting her under the care of another: Woman, here is your son; here is your mother. “And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.”  She cannot help him and there is no sword sharper for a parent than having to stand by as a child suffers, dies. But Jesus reaches out and protects her, because as a widow with no male protection she is vulnerable, at risk of poverty, exploitation, and oppression. 

And so, as those overlooked by the world in his time (and now), women are important to Jesus in his ministry.  Before he is born God chooses the least likely person to be the one who brings God’s son into the world and cares for him, and it is Mary who sings of the message of hope that Jesus will bring: of a world turned upside down through his birth in the words of the Magnificat: he has put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble and meek. And Jesus includes women throughout his ministry: amongst his followers; speaking to them at wells; answering their pleas for help; letting them listen at his feet with the men or pour perfume over those feet in recognition of who Jesus is and what he is going to do; defending the woman caught in adultery. Jesus breaks the taboos around associating with women, just as he broke the taboos around others deemed unsuitable: eating with tax-collectors and sinners, making enemies the heroes of his parables and offering salvation to criminals, even while hanging amongst them on a cross.  And, he forgives those who do him wrong: more words from the cross: Father forgive, they do not know what they are doing.  Jesus breaks the taboos set by humans. And by breaking these taboos, Jesus shows us how to live. He shows us the need to break those taboos which separate us from each other, which build barriers between peoples, between nations, between us and God.  It is not an easy way out, an easy road to follow.  In the words of Paul, we are “as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, to clothe ourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience” and above all love.  Love for God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength and love for our neighbour as ourselves.  And this means facing society’s taboos and seeing them through Jesus’ eyes, through Jesus’ life, death and resurrection, and responding to them as Jesus did, as the women in our readings show us how.  We are to have the compassion of Pharaoh’s daughter to those we find lost, abandoned, in need, in pain, even those whom society says we should fear or even hate. We are to have the love of Mary to follow Christ and seek to understand his will, his message, and to do it.  We are to have the courage to stand at the foot of the cross and witness the love of God through Christ and let it enter our hearts in its fullness.  The love that reaches beyond all barriers, that breaks all barriers.  We are to forgive, to act with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience: those qualities traditionally associated with mothers, with women, but which all are called to take up and do.  And to do this knowing that by accepting Christ, by living as Christ calls us to live, a sword may very well pierce our souls too as we encounter the rejection and ridicule Jesus himself faced, even as he hung on the cross.  Rejection and ridicule his mother had to watch and weep for.

So today, let us give thanks for all who have shown us how to live: our parents, grandparents, significant adults, friends, neighbours, colleagues and each other. Let us give thanks for the example of Pharoah’s daughter, of Mary and all the women who followed Christ to the foot of the cross and who were greeted by him after his resurrection.  And let us take up our cross, follow Jesus and act towards each other and all God’s people with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, patience and above all love, as Mary did: she gave her body for God’s shrine, her heart to piercing pain, she knew the cost of love divine when Jesus Christ was slain. 

Amen.

Revd Jackie Sellin

Readings: Exodus 17:1-7, Ps 95, Romans 5:1-11, John 4:5-42

We thank you, almighty God, for the gift of water
to sustain, refresh and cleanse all life.
Over water the Holy Spirit moved in the beginning of creation.
Through water you led the children of Israel
from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.
In water your Son Jesus received the baptism of John
and was anointed by the Holy Spirit as the Messiah, the Christ,
to lead us from the death of sin to newness of life.

Common Worship Initiation Services (1998) p.23, Church House Publishing

We thank you, almighty God, for the gift of water to sustain, refresh and cleanse all life.  The gift of water.  I am not sure how deeply we see water as a gift of God to sustain, refresh and cleanse all life!  It is all too easy for us in our 21^st century homes to turn on a tap and have sustaining, fresh, cleansing water at our fingertips.  We are blessed, truly blessed to have this.  A few years ago, I had the opportunity to experience water scarcity, briefly.  I had gone on a diocesan trip to Rwanda and had seen water holders at the schools, a science diagram showing how to create a water purifier from little stones, sand and a plastic bottle, the houses with no internal water source. But I had only seen them.  It hadn’t entered my understanding, my comprehension, just what these all meant.  Until the last weekend of our stay.  We woke up on the Sunday morning to empty taps.  There was no way to wash, no way of cleaning our teeth, of washing our hair, no safe water to drink, no way to flush the loo.  In the warmth of the day, all these things became very important.  We were lucky.  Large buckets were carried up the stairs to our corridor, and we could help ourselves to the water there.  But the buckets were large, and water is surprisingly heavy. 

Look at a bucket or large container.  Imagine carrying it up and down your street.  It’s not easy. Water moves. It flows.  Now imagine you had to do that every day, in the heat of the day, and if you work for hospitality, possibly up and down stairs, more than once a day.  We are so lucky to have the gift of water to sustain, refresh and cleanse us.

 “I go to collect water four times a day, in a 20-litre clay jar. It’s hard work! I’ve never been to school as I have to help my mother with her washing work so we can earn enough money. Our house doesn’t have a bathroom. If I could alter my life, I would really like to go to school and have more clothes”.

Elma Kassa, 13-year-old girl, Ethiopia (1). 

“10-year-old Bukhari Aden (and) his mother Dama Mohammed ..  collect water from a pond in Ethiopia. After giving water to the camels and donkey, they take two jerrycans back for the cows at home. He has never been to school. “In our village the children are responsible to look after the animals. There is no water near the village. If water is available nearby, it would be easy for me to go to school.”

https://www.unicef.org/stories/climate-drought-horn-of-africa

This is the reality for many across the world, not just in Africa, but all areas where sanitation facilities are lacking.  Across the world, 1 in 6 people lack safe access to safe drinking water.  In at least 80 countries, covering 40% of the world’s population, people encounter serious water shortages.  And without clean water people die.  Water borne diseases flourish – typhoid, cholera, diarrhoea (1).  This year and last, these water shortages have affected even Europe, I am sure you can remember the images of the River Po in Italy dried up, and the driest summer in 500 years has prompted concern for water scarcity in Europe for farmers, homes and factories (2).  And yet, water is a gift from God for all people. 

There is a reason Jesus calls his message, his promise, the gift of living water.  His message brings life to our souls, to our spirits: it refreshes us and enlivens us.  This is a gift of God, but it goes alongside the gift of water to sustain, refresh and cleanse us. “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”  God gives us the living water of the spirit and the living water for life: chasing and chuckling, gripping things with a gurgle .. a shake and a shiver, glinting and gleaming and sparkling, as Kenneth Grahame puts it (3). 

We are lucky, we don’t have to stagger under the weight of heavy buckets.  But, perhaps we need to listen again to words of the baptism service and remember that water is a gift of God, and should be treated as such.  It is precious, it gives life, not just to us but to the whole of creation – plants and animals, birds and water creatures all depend on water to live.  As a gift of God to the people of God do we need to relearn to treat God’s gifts with respect?  To use the gifts wisely and carefully? And to work to promote decent access to life-giving water for all God’s people, all God’s children?  Then we will show the work of the living water in us, that gift of the message and love of God, of Christ in our lives.  Yes, drink deep of the water of life offered by Christ, and let it refresh us, our spirits, our hearts to look towards God’s gifts in God’s creation, for all God’s creation, and protect water, preserve water, share water, so that all can have water to sustain, refresh and cleanse. 

Amen.

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1. https://cwsglobal.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/09/WorshipWater.pdf
2. https://www.theguardian.com/weather/2023/mar/04/very-precarious-europe-faces-growing-water-crisis-as-winter-drought-worsens
3. https://www.online-literature.com/graham/windwillows/1/

Readings: Genesis 12:1-4a; Psalm 121; Romans 4:1-5, 13-17; John 3:1-17

“The Road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone, and I must follow, if I can, pursuing it with weary (eager  p.35) feet.
Until it joins some larger way, where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.”

Since coming to Zurich, it has been my privilege to hear many stories about how you all came to be here.  The stories vary, obviously, and each is individual, and ongoing – staying here and creating a life is a life-long journey.  But each one who has come here has done so by taking the decision to leave a place they know and understand, and move to somewhere completely different, unknown in most cases: I think I am safe in saying that Switzerland does not feature too highly in the curriculums for Geography or History in the UK, or other countries from which many of us have come.  Many of us have opened the door and followed the road down the way it leads us.  Until in many cases it has met other roads, other travellers and our journeys have merged, altered, moved forward.

And the readings today are about taking the first steps on a journey.  Abram is told to: “Go from your country, your people and your father’s household to the land I will show you.” And, at 75 years of age, he does just that. And not just him, his whole household is uprooted from the safety of their homeland and marched out to a land, somewhere, promised by God.  Abram sets off holding just faith, faith in God, in the fulfilment of God’s promises, somewhere, sometime.  And as Paul tells us in Romans, “Therefore, the promise comes by faith”.  Abram followed the road, pursuing it with sometimes eager, sometimes weary, feet, no doubt, but ever on and on.

The faith to set out into the unknown, to go where the wind blows, trusting in the promises of God.  “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.” These are Jesus’ words to Nicodemus.  Nicodemus, from the Jewish ruling class, who knew the law, knew about the promises, and knew about Jesus.  But who also knew what his fellow Jewish leaders felt about Jesus and so came by night to find answers.  And, as usual, finds more questions – Jesus invariably answers questions with more questions, or with parables, very rarely with direct answers.  Jesus wants Nicodemus to really look at what he is seeing, listen to what he is hearing, and use his knowledge and understanding to see the truth. To listen and believe, to have faith that in Jesus, God is fulfilling the promises God has made to humanity, to creation: the promise that God loves all, that God loves, so loved, the world that “ he gave his one and only Son” not to condemn the world, but to give us eternal life. 

Nicodemus is asked by Jesus to take the first steps on a new journey of faith. To build on what he knows from the law and the prophets and follow a new path, the path of Christ.  A path which requires faith in the faithful God. A faith which is seen in action – the stepping forward, acting on the call of God.  The God who kept the promises made to Abram, and who keeps his promise forever.  Abram’s faith leads to him uprooting his whole household and following the call of God.  Nicodemus is asked to have faith to stand up and follow Christ. 

And that brings us back to our journeys. Not our physical ones of moving from one country to another, or not necessarily – who knows where the wind of the spirit might take us?!  But our faith journey.  Jesus calls us to take the steps of faith into the unknown. To trust in God to lead us safely through our lives.  Because turning to Christ, following his lead, his message does mean stepping out into the unknown.  As Bilbo told Frodo: “It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door … you step into the Road, and if you don’t keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to.”  When I started my journey to priesthood, each step was a step into the unknown, none more so than leaving family and home and coming out here.  But these are steps I do not regret. Some have not been easy, but all have been fulfilling and exciting.  And each step taken forward on this road leads us closer to the knowledge of God, to the foundation of God’s kingdom.  Taking the leap of faith, knowing that the wind of the spirit will take us somewhere, but that our journey is held in the love of God. This leap of faith is not easy – I believe I have mentioned before that Jesus never promised that following him would be the easy path.  But to have faith is to act on it – faith is not just something we say, it is something that we do, that we have to act on – like Abram stepping into the unknown.  But we do not set out alone.  God is with us. The God who so loved the world that Jesus came to be our guide on the road of faith.  And the path is not unknown to God – Jesus has walked it before us, and now as our guide walks alongside us.

Wherever our faith journey leads us, we are strengthened by the spirit.  Taking that first step, or the next step, along the road can be as simple as taking up a new role in the church, responding to the call of God to lead a rota, to consider our time, talents and treasure for God.  Or it can lead to looking at our own vocation: what is God calling me to do? Where is God calling me to go?  Look at the opportunities God is offering you here and now to go through the door and down the path into God’s future.  What talents God has given you to act faithfully in God’s world.  And then, pick up your staff, open that door and join Jesus on the road, hand in hand with the Spirit, “until it joins some larger way – Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.” 

Amen.

Jackie Sellin
Assistant Chaplain

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Tolkien JRR (2004) Lord of the Rings P.74 Harper Collins Publishers.  Pp35/73, 74.

Kitchen M, Heskins G, Motyer S (1998) “Word of Promise: a Commentary on the Lectionary Readings” Canterbury Press

We know that these unseen who meet our needs
Are all themselves the fingers of your hand,
As are the grain, the rain, the air, the land,
And, slighting these, we slight the hand that feeds.
What if we glimpsed you daily in their toil
And found and thanked and served you through them all?
Malcolm Guite

It’s not fair!  Fairness.  There is much research that shows that children have a very developed sense of justice and injustice – fairness.  They will soon let you know if they think that an action or event is fair or not: keeping the whole class in for one child’s silliness, for example.  Giving one child a larger piece of cake.  They can sense when something is not right, is not fair, is unjust.  And we’ve all been there at some point in our lives.  Watching “Strictly” and thinking, but they were rubbish, the other ones should have gone out.  Or the football when the ref calls a goal offside, when it was clearly not!  We can see unfairness, injustice.  In some things. 

So why is there so much injustice in the world when it comes to the important things.  When it comes to food – why are some people struggling to feed themselves and their families while others have more than enough.  Why do some people insist on seeing others as inferior, as not as important, because they are, you know, a woman, or a different race, colour, ethnicity, sexuality? Why do some people consider the earth as there to be plundered, to be used without consideration for the creatures that depend on it?  Why are humans so horrible to each other?

In the words of Robert Burns:

Many and sharp the numerous ills
Inwoven with our frame;
More pointed still, we make ourselves
Regret, remorse and shame;
And man, whose heaven-erected face
The smiles of love adorn,
Man’s inhumanity to man,
Makes countless thousands mourn.

And why is this injustice, this inhumanity important?

I have been doing a lot of reading about Justice recently – after all I am preparing the Lent Course, which takes as its theme this year: Embracing Justice.  And it can be difficult reading.  There are some challenges ahead for those who are taking part.  But the one thing that is constantly repeated in the course, and I must say is constantly repeated in many readings in our Lectionary, and therefore in the Bible, is God’s attitude to Justice, or more importantly, to injustice.  According to one writer I’ve been reading, God has a “passion for justice” (W-B.p17).  It is not just something nice to have, it is God’s passion.  God sees those who are suffering injustice – as we see in our course book – and when God sees injustice, God is moved with compassion and acts, demanding justice.  Demanding that the oppression, suffering pain of those who are oppressed or suffering is removed.  There is no room for injustice in God’s world, in the Kingdom of God.  As Wyk-Bos goes on to say: God’s laws “protect the vulnerable from abuse and hold responsible those who deliberately injure others.” (p.184).   Just last week we heard from Isaiah how God says through the prophet:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,

Jesus also emphasises the need for compassion not just through his words, but through his actions: he met with sinners, listened to and wept for those who were suffering or mourning, he spoke of the need to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, to have compassion and mercy to others.  For God, for Jesus, justice is not a nice to have, but an imperative. 

But God’s justice is not about vengeance, it’s not about getting your own back.  It is about compassion. It is, as Breuggermann says, distributive, not retributive because  God has “a burning love for those on the underside of society” (W-Bp31) which demands that all people be respected, be valued, be shown their worth.  Because justice is all about recognising we are all equal in God’s eyes. That we are all God’s children, all made in God’s image – as the Genesis reading reminds us: “in the image of God he created them;” God did not create a hierarchy of peoples, rating humanity on what they looked like, what they owned, how powerful they were, whether they were male, female, Italian or Ghanaian.  God created all people in God’s image, and as people made in God’s image we are called to “exhibit God’s holiness”, acting as God would act towards those children of God who suffer injustice.  Our actions should be God’s actions – loving God’s people and challenging those things that undermine, oppress or demean those who are made in God’s image. We are to stand up for God’s creation and demand justice.  If we claim to serve and love God, then we show this by respecting, serving and loving all God’s people (W-Bp189).

So, we are called to go out and serve the Lord, by doing justice to our fellow beings, and to creation, loving it as God loves us and demonstrating to the world that our God is one that loves all, in spite of the boundaries and barriers we try to erect.  Our God demands love, compassion, fairness towards all, and demands that we act with love and compassion to the world.  Then we will reflect God’s passion for justice through our actions for justice, fairness and love. To paraphrase lines from Guite’s poem at the beginning:

What if we glimpsed God daily in the lives of those around us,

And found and thanked and served God through them all?

Amen.

Reverend Jackie Sellin

References:

7 sonnets on the Lord’s Prayer: 4 Daily Bread

Matthew L Lamb (1985) Liberation Theology and Social Justice http://www.liberationtheology.org/library/LiberationTheologyandSocialJustice_religiononline2570.htm

Johann W H van Wyk-Bos (2005) Making Wise the Simple, William B Eerdmans Publishing Company

https://www.poetrynook.com/poem/mans-inhumanity-man

Sunday 29 January 2023

Readings: Malachi 3:1-5; Psalm 24:1-10; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:22-40

To be a light to lighten the Gentiles.

I don’t know about you, but as a child I was afraid of the dark. It’s not that unusual, I think. I remember having to have the landing light kept on in order for me to go to sleep – just that dim glow chased my night fears away and gave me comfort, made me feel safe, and allowed me to rest in peace – Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart into sleep, in peace – But also, it lit up the dark corners, allowing me to see what was there – usually the messiness of my room, everything shoved to the side, hidden: if I couldn’t find my school tie it would be under the mess in the corner, in the dark. I needed that light to lighten my darkness.

I wonder if that is why I have always loved the nunc dimittis. Because of its call for peaceful rest. But for Simeon it was more than the peace of a good death, it came with the reassurance of the fulfilment of the hope of the promises of God, that God would send the Messiah. And this is what he sees that day in the Temple.: Jesus, the promised Messiah, is revealed to him and at last he can be at peace knowing that God has kept his promise, will always keep his promise. This is what the presentation in the temple is about, God keeping his promises. We can trust him, and therefore we can be at peace. God is with us. We can believe and trust in him because Jesus is here.

But there is more in this story. The nunc also speaks of Light, a recurring theme since Advent. There is a line in Malcolm Guite’s poem Candlemas: Against the dark our Saviour’s face is bright. Jesus, in the two meetings during his presentation in the temple, is revealed as the light to lighten the darkness. A brightness who kindles a flame to lighten the dark and take all fear away. In the words of a Taizé chant: our darkness is never darkness in your sight, the deepest night is clear as the daylight. The infant Jesus is revealed as the light of hope in the world, bringing peace to us and to the world. Bringing a sense of safety, of being held in the hands of God through our darkest times – and who hasn’t experienced dark times. In Jesus we see that God is with us, has been through darkness and pain, and has come through that.

As the Hebrews reading states: “Because he himself was tested by what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested.” Jesus, God, promised to be with his people, and in the Temple that promise comes true, is made flesh. And through the coming of Christ into the world, through Christ’s life, ministry and death, God knows what it is like to be human, to be us, God knows what the world is like, how it can feel dark, dangerous: he suffered and is therefore able to help those who suffer. Jesus encountered danger and fear throughout his life, from the threats at his birth through to his death on the cross at the hands of humanity. As Bishop Lane explains, his journey was one of “discomfort, loss and death”, but through it we know he understands, has walked the same paths as ourselves and will walk with us through our own darkness, bringing light to illuminate our paths.

Jesus is the light that fulfils God’s promises and brings us hope and strength in our hour of need. But, like my light on the landing, that light also illuminates our lives, our hearts and thoughts. The prayer of preparation makes this clear: “Almighty God, to whom all hearts are open, all desires known and from whom no secrets are hidden.” No secrets are hidden! When I say those words at the beginning of the service, just before the confession, it does make me stop and think. Like my tie in the corner of the room, I cannot hide my thoughts and desires in darkness, when the light shines, they are seen, so our thoughts and desires are brought to light by God, by Jesus. Jesus brings light to darkness – to our darkness, and to the darkness in the world. Nothing is hidden. As Malachi puts it: “but who may endure the day of his coming?” All those acts and thoughts that we bring before God in our confession are known already. God also sees the actions in the world that bring darkness, that run counter to his will: the injustices meted out to those less fortunate, to those shoved aside, seen as unworthy in our eyes. Those who like us are children of God, made in God’s image, but whose humanity and Godliness are ignored or actively removed. And it is for us bring light of Christ into that darkness. Because only then can God purify our thoughts and actions, and we can turn, and with God’s help, do the right thing. Then through us God can bring the light of justice and compassion into those dark corners of the world.

Malachi was speaking about the way God’s people had turned away from God’s will and were oppressing the powerless and marginalised. Such injustice “shatters the quality of life of the community”, it is not God’s ways. The people were walking in darkness and needed to be brought into the light of God’s promises for all. And in our society today there are many who are persecuted, whose humanity is denied, whose rights are undermined. Jesus, through us, can illuminate those dark areas in our world and bring to light the injustices. Through Christ’s presence with us we are tasked by God to bring the light into those dark places, to respond with compassion and bring justice to those who suffer: to be the light that lightens the Gentiles for those who are alienated, abused or whom society leaves behind. Rowan Williams pictures God as the infant in Simeon’s arms calling out our compassion and tenderness through his insistent presence. And so we acknowledge our own weaknesses, bring them into the light, seek forgiveness and then take up God’s call to bring light to the world, to those who are walking in the darkness of fear and injustice. Like Simeon we must see God, see Jesus in our lives, in the world around us, and respond with God’s love and compassion.

So, in the birth of Jesus God turns the light on. We see God revealed to us and his promise fulfilled: God is with us. It is through this revealed presence in the world that we are given hope in our darkness, and which brings hope to others living in darkness: Jesus lived among us, suffered as one of us, and identifies with us in our suffering and struggles. This is the revelation of the generosity of God to those made in God’s image. And this revelation of God’s love and generosity gives us strength and comfort in our times of darkness and allows us to act generously and lovingly to others experiencing darkness: those in need, who mourn, struggle to be heard, to be seen, who are lonely, ignored, rejected. Because Jesus is here, the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it. I finish with more words from Guite’s poem:

“They come at last with us to Candlemas
And keep the day the prophecies came true
We glimpse with them, amidst our busyness,
The peace that Simeon and Anna knew.
For Candlemas still keeps His kindled light,
Against the dark our Saviour’s face is bright.”

Against all dark, our Saviour’s face is bright.

Reverend Jackie Sellin, Assistant Chaplain

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References
• https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2018/01/27/a-sonnet-for-candlemas-7/
• Bishop Libby Lane: “A Good Epiphany” in Mark Oakley ed. (2016) “A Good Year” SPCK
• Louis Stuhlman, Hyun Chul Paul Kim (2010) « You ARE My People” Abingdon Press
• Rowan Williams (1994) “Open to Judgement” DLT chapter 6.

Happy Christmas. What a year this has been. This time last year we were still wearing masks, socially distancing and many self-isolating. Now, we are together again. But not all of us, as war, disaster and travel complications continue to separate some from their loved ones. And we remember especially those separated by the war in Ukraine, and all refugees separated from their families and friends, all of whom will be worrying about those left behind in situations of fear. We pray for all who cannot see or hold those they love this Christmas.

I have to ask, did everyone get the gift they asked for? Did anyone receive something they could never have imagined – in a good way? Did anyone get socks? Gifts are so difficult, aren’t they. I must admit it is one of my special pleasures of Christmas to try to work out what gift to give each of my family. But trying to find that special gift, that one which doesn’t just last until the last mince pie of Christmas Day, that is so hard to find. There can be just a little tinge of disappointment by the end of the day. It can feel so unsatisfactory. Something not quite fulfilling. Something is missing, amongst the torn wrapping paper and piled up presents. Something overlooked.

And so we turn to our readings. There is no sense of anti-climax in Isaiah. Something has happened. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light! Something has completely changed the way they look at the world. They have been given something that transforms how they feel, how they live. “For the yoke of their burden, and the bar across their shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, you have broken”. Their lives have been changed. Because of the gift of a Saviour: “a child has been born for us, a son has been given to us”. A small baby has made them see things differently, feel things differently! Well, as any parent knows, the birth of a baby does completely change your life – things are never the same again!

And today we have the gift. Jesus. A baby born in the little town of Bethlehem, who changed things so much that we are still celebrating him today. That birth – which in Luke happens quietly in one sentence: “And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn” – is why we are here today, celebrating. Why? What happened?

And so I prepared a present to us, a box of sweets and a card which reads – to everyone, with love. To everyone. With love. This is the difference the gift of the birth of Jesus makes to us and to the world. Jesus came for all – this is why shepherds and wise men are the ones summoned to his cradle. They represent everyone: the poor, those who live outside the boundaries society puts up around itself: shepherds lived outside on the hills, separate from the towns and villages, marginalised, overlooked. The wise men came from far away, beyond the boundaries of canton and country. Jesus was the gift for all people, whoever and wherever they were. A gift that gave, not just a living baby, but the gift of God, of God’s love in action. A gift of hope in a time of darkness. This baby showed that God loved us so much that he came down to earth from heaven, who is God and Lord of all. The gift by which God imparts to human hearts the blessings of his heaven. Jesus’ birth is the gift that brings God close to us, that enables us to see God, to renew our relationship with God and to see God’s love in action: through Jesus we can see that God knows what it is like to be human.

Tears and smiles like us he knew. Through Jesus, God feeleth for our sadness and shareth in our gladness. Through Jesus, God is with us: Emmanuel. And this gift is the gift that goes on giving- – not like my box of sweets which will run out. The gift of God’s love in Jesus continues across the world, across centuries, reaching out deep into our lives and transforming us into the children of God: as we heard last night: “But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God”. And this gift transforms us, and, through us, the world: through God’s love in action in us we can change the world. The gift of Jesus showed us how we can be human, how we can live our lives in the light of the Christmas message of hope, joy, peace. The gift gives us the power to work together for peace: wholeness of self and unity between peoples. The power to reach out into the darkness and bring light to those in need – seen in the many acts of generosity to refugees this year.

These acts for others I the name of the man for others spread the gift, the light into other lives. And transforms our world, so that all of us can feel that we no longer walk in darkness, but have had the the yoke of our burden, and the bar across our shoulders, the rod of their oppressor, broken by the gift of a baby in manger. The gift that was meant for sharing, which only by sharing can it’s worth, it’s specialness be seen. A gift chosen so carefully by God, for each and every one of us to use to help transform this world so all can feel loved, whole and worthwhile.

Amen.

The Reverend Jackie Sellin
Assistant Chaplain

And is it true? And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?
Words from John Betjemen’s poem: Christmas.

I really like Christmas. Not just for the chocolate, presents, good food and drink, and did I mention the chocolate? I really like Christmas for that feeling.  That Christmas feeling.  Things somehow feel different at Christmas.  There’s a sense of excitement – children needing no persuasion to go to bed for once so that they can wake up before the  dawn to open stockings and excitedly bounce their parents awake.  An excitement of meeting friends and family and sharing the Christmas feast.  And the sharing – of time, of hospitality, of friendship and love.  There’s something about Christmas.

And the reading from John encapsulates this feeling that there is something different here.  Something is happening: the Word becomes flesh.  The Word that has existed before all time, that spoke into being all that is in the world becomes real, here, amongst God’s people, within God’s creation.  And suddenly the world seems different. The light has come into the world, the light that darkness cannot comprehend. The light that the darkness cannot overcome.  God is with us and it’s as if God has always been here – because God has always been with us.  But now, the word has become flesh and dwells among us.  It is a thing most wonderful, almost too wonderful to be, that God’s own Son should come from heaven, as one hymn tells. 

So in the birth of Jesus, that baby lying in a manger, the world changes.  Or does it?  Because it can seem as if everything has just stayed the same.  Just look at what happens to that baby in the manger, with all the promise and hope that he brought.  “Nails, spears will pierce him through, the cross be borne for me for you.”  And look at the world today: war in Ukraine, Yemen, Syria, Somalia, Ethiopia and Eritrea, amongst others, a climate crisis threatening the world’s very existence, food and fuel bills rising.  What has changed? What difference has this baby made?  “And man at war with man hears not the love song which they bring. Oh hush your noise ye men of war and hear the angels sing.”

But that is precisely what has changed.  The love song, the song of peace on earth, good will to all. To All.  God is with us, dwelling here among us, and that changes the world.  Suddenly there is real hope, real joy, real peace on offer, if we’d just hush our noise and stop fighting each other, stop the divisions we create between people, between groups, and listen to the song, the message of Christmas.  Because in Jesus, the baby in the manger.  God gives himself to us, for us.  God empties himself into creation and lives as one of us, understands our “hopes and fears of all the years”.  This is what is given in Jesus in the manger,  giving this time of year that special feeling. We can stop, look, think about this wondrous gift given to us and see the light in the darkness.

A little light, shining from the manger, reflected in a mother’s face, the faces of all who see him, hear of him.  A light of hope that spreads and chases darkness away, overcomes it. Because that is what light does.  A candle shines in the darkness and immediately, the darkness is broken.  Then the light spreads to the next candle and the dark is pushed further back, and again, and again.  The light spreads and gets stronger. And these candles are symbols of the light, the hope that has spread through the birth of the Word, of Jesus.  The light spreads, fills the space.  It demands to be noticed, the light of good news, of hope, of freedom from oppression, of peace on earth – peace: wholeness of person and unity with others. This light of peace, of hope spreads from the Christ child, to our hearts and from our hearts into our actions and into the world, transforming us, transforming the world, just as our candles transform the physical dark into light. 

Through the spreading of the light the world is changed from one at war, where humans vie for power, for dominance, and instead it creates peace, wholeness, compassion and love.  This light, seen in acts of kindness and love: in helping others; offering sanctuary to Ukrainian refugees, all refugees; giving to charity; donations to those in need.  These, like our candles, spread the light of the love of the Christ child through us into the world.  This is the Christmas feeling, one that leads to actions of hope and love so that we can help the world comprehend the light, the message of love, peace, wholeness, unity and compassion, not just in the story today, but lived in our lives and through our lives. 

Let us spread the light of Christ, the message of love, hope and peace, all year, so that the Christmas feeling can be felt always: a light for life, not just for Christmas. 

Amen.

The Reverend Jackie Sellin, Assistant Chaplain

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Reference: Oakley M (2016) A Good Year, chapter: Williams R “A Good Christmas” p29, SPCK

Readings: Isaiah 7:10-16; Ps 80:1-8, 18-20; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25

“Dear Mary from your lowliness and home in Galilee, there comes a joy and holiness to ev’ry family.” Words from one of our hymns this morning.

Today traditionally in the Anglican communion we think about Mary and her role in the Incarnation. Her rather pivotal role. After all, she said “yes” to God: “Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord, let it be to me according to your word.” A pivotal moment indeed. We don’t know what would have happened if she had turned round and said no, I can’t do that, I’m too scared, too young, too … But it says something about Mary that God trusted her enough to give her the choice. She could have said no. But, “the heav’nly call she thus obeyed, and so God’s will was done”. And Jesus was born, God became human, and dwelt among us. A child, in an ordinary home, living an ordinary life.

Because that is exactly what Mary, and Joseph – who does get mention in our readings today – gave him. An ordinary life. As Bishop John Pritchard points out in one of his books*, for 30 years Jesus lived with us, as one of us: Lord Jesus Christ, you have come to us, born as one of us, Mary’s son – as another hymn puts it. For 30 years he experienced life in a normal family home of the time. And like any child he would have learned from the example and experience of his earthly parents: he would have seen how Mary lived, the work she did in the home – leavening the bread, sweeping the house, losing and finding things – things he brought into his teachings later on to help his followers understand them. And she would have taught the Word of God to speak. She would have shown him how to live in a Jewish society in occupied Palestine. Just as all mothers teach their children, care for them, protect them, watch them grow up. How many times do we hear of Mary seeing what happens around her son and storing up her thoughts in her heart. Just as all mothers watch their children and remember what they do, what they did – I have lots of memories of my three growing up, memories I have stored in my heart. And Mary stored her memories of Jesus’ childhood: the meeting with Simeon and Anna, getting lost in Jerusalem, and many more which were held only in her heart.

And then there is the bit which pierces Mary’s heart: “she gave her body for God’s shrine, her heart to piercing pain,”. The growing up bit. Jesus, the son of the carpenter, trained up to follow in his father’s footsteps, suddenly grows up and moves on, moves out – just as our children move on and out, despite our plans and hopes and dreams for them. And Jesus becomes what he is called to be, what he is destined to be. The itinerant preacher who, again in the words of Pritchard, was “a controversial teacher, setting both religious authorities and Roman rulers on edge”. Walking into danger. And Mary is there, following his journey, supporting him – even when he seems to push her away. And she is there at the end, when those same authorities try to destroy the Good News to the poor, standing by her son at the foot of the cross. Simeon’s words echoing in her heart: and a sword will pierce your own heart too. Watching her blest son, “whom (her) embrace in birth and death confessed.”

So what can we take away from the example of Mary, and her role in being mother to God’s son? To begin with we need to look at her yes. That moment when God’s trust in God’s choice was vindicated. Mary was offered a choice, and she had the courage, the faith in God, to say yes. God didn’t promise it would be all sweetness and light, in fact she must have realised that by saying yes, her whole world would be transformed and made more dangerous: giving birth in those times was dangerous, but doing so as an unmarried mother heightened the danger. Joseph was brave to carry on and marry his pregnant fiancée. He also said yes to the choice that was offered him. And God gives us choices every day. Choices that aren’t always easy to say yes to. Choices that, like Mary, put us at odds with what society thinks is “right”. We can say yes to God, and look at the world through God’s eyes. Standing up for what we believe in, rather than turning away, crossing the road, keeping silent in the face of injustice through fear of retaliation. Challenging the status quo, the unloving attitudes we can see around us: Jesus, again in the words of Pritchard: “taught a radical reworking of .. religious practices”, together with “compassionate healings, over the top forgiveness, and an uncompromising solidarity with the oppressed underclass”.

This is the Jesus whom Mary followed around Palestine. The Jesus God invites us to follow today. The Jesus who was taught at his mother’s knee, the same knee he was laid on after his death. And this is the message, the choice, the way of life God offers to us, asks us to take on. Asks us to say yes to. A yes that takes the confidence and bravery of Mary to speak, to accept. But we can take comfort in the fact that God chose Mary because she was ordinary, just a young girl living a normal life. And God takes what is ordinary and creates the extraordinary. Through Mary’s yes, God is with us. Emmanuel. Through the power of God, that yes changed the world. Through the power of God, when we say yes, God can change us, and through us, the world. That is what the example of Mary shows us. We don’t need to be extraordinary, we don’t need to be special, do special things. God can use us as we are, who we are, and it is because we are ordinary, human, that God can work with us. Through us.

If we, like Mary, despite our fears, our sense of unworthiness, say yes: God is with us. And God can use the yes walking with us, just as God walked on earth those years ago alongside humanity, changing the lives of those around us, around him. Through our lives and by our prayers, God can bring the Kingdom, if we say yes, just as through Mary’s yes, her life and prayers God came to us, lived with us, among us, showed us how to live for God, and brought us redemption. So, “For Mary, mother of our Lord, God’s holy name be praised, who first the Son of God adored as on her child she gazed.”

The Reverend Jackie Sellin
Assistant Chaplain

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*Pritchard J (2018): Five Events That Made Christianity, SPCK