… let us celebrate the young and the singleminded, and those of every age who are determined to grow in understanding and wisdom. Let us encourage them. Let us be among them …
– from my talk today, based on the story of pre-teen Jesus in the Temple, Celebrating the obsessions of twelve-year-olds. Featuring Wayne Rooney, Steve Jobs and Bill Gates, Bradley Wiggins, the late Jim Hart and the geeky John Davies among others…
'Praise be to Allah for saving the Christian vicar!’ – a quote (completely on-message, I think) from my Christmas talk, Becoming human – the shepherds' instinct, the magis' hunch. Happy Christmas to you.
Eldroth, Keasden, Christmas Day 2018
Sutton Montis, Queen Camel, Christmas 2016
Corton Denham, Christmas Day 2015
A festive family service activity, written in the car outside the Co-op after a choc bar spending spree three days before Christmas. The first one who shouts out when they recognise a confectionery reference gets a prize of the bar mentioned. It was easy enough at Corton Denham, where they’re all Smarties (geddit?).
That night as usual there were shepherds in the fields watching sheep. Above the fields the sky was clear. One shepherd said, “Look, you can see the Milky Way“. Another one said, “I think I can see Mars“.
Down below, Bethlehem was full of people all gathering for the census. Mary and Joseph arrived on foot, with Joseph carrying in his backpack a Picnic for them to share. Others from the villages around arrived by Double Decker.
It was a festive atmosphere. As they made their way into town the couple could hear Minstrels playing. And they heard the audience giving a Ripple of applause.
It was cold in the clear night. The ground beneath Mary and Joseph was Crunchie, and Mary thought she felt a Flake of snow on her face. The stars in the Galaxy glittered.
The innkeeper looked puzzled by Joseph’s request for a room. “So many people asking me these questions tonight, they’re real Teasers,” he said. “I’ll have to work some magic to make space for you; I’ll have to perform some Twix.” (He had a slight speech impediment.)
“But don’t tell anyone else,” he told the couple, “keep it as a Wispa, and I’ll make space for you in the stable.”
This was great news for the couple, with Mary heavily pregnant. It was a real Boost.
Christmas sermon
Queen Camel, Weston Bampfylde, Corton Denham, 20, 24, 25 December 2015
Austwick, 24 December 2018
THE Vicar of Luton was knocked off his bike last year, and was trapped under the car that had run into him. Two passers-by, one a professional boxer and the other a taxi-driver, rushed over and lifted the vehicle off him. The two good Samaritans were Zulfiqar Afsar and the boxer Manny Muhammad. Mr Afsar said afterwards:’As a Muslim, it’s something I would do, regardless of faith. Our core teachings are for Muslims to help anybody and everybody.’ The local Islamic radio station, in describing the rescue, reportedly headlined it:’Praise be to Allah for saving the Christian vicar!’ [1]
‘Peace on earth, goodwill to all.’ It’s a nice dream, you might think. It’s a bit of a fantasy, though, after the year we’ve had, a year of fear and loathing in the public sphere, of man’s inhumanity to man in international relations. And yet, the story which I’ve just told suggests that peace on earth, goodwill to all, is possible.
That was the instinct which led the shepherds down the hillside into Bethlehem; the hunch which directed the journey of the magi towards the son of Mary. The instinct that – in a world where it is very easy indeed to learn the ways of conflict, to tool up for battle – it is also possible to learn the ways of peace, to resource ourselves to be humane towards others. If we know where to look and who to learn from.
The great Hindu peacemaker Ghandi asserted that ‘Jesus belongs not solely to Christianity, but to the entire world’, for the message of peace which he brings: ‘Love God, love your neighbours, love your enemies, pray for your persecutors.’ [2]
Around meal tables, the adult Jesus brought together society’s poorest and most reviled people and the most respectable ones, including those who were gunning for Jesus and who eventually executed him. And in a move which resembled the activity of the adult Jesus, the great Israeli statesman and peacemaker Yitzhak Rabin, as he reluctantly shook hands with PLO leader Yasser Arafat on the lawn of the White House, said, ‘You don’t make peace with your friends, only with your enemies.’ [3]
‘The great revelation of Christmas is that God is HUMAN’ (writes Walter Wink). Forget what you’ve been told about a divinity wrapped in flesh: ‘Veiled in flesh, the Godhead see’ [4] – making Mary’s baby sound like some sort of invading alien in disguise: we can be forgiven for singing some of our carols with questionmarks. No, Jesus is fully and completely human, and shows us the way to be human. This is the core of the good news that little child brings.
For: ‘It is the great error of humanity to believe that we are human. We are only fragmentarily human, fleetingly human, brokenly human. We see glimpses of our humanness, we can only dream of what a more human existence and political order would be like, but we have not yet arrived at true humanness. Only God is human, and we are made in God’s image and likeness – which is to say, we are capable of becoming human.’ [5] It is in embracing the humanity of Jesus that we become human ourselves.
As we sing in our carols, of ‘Peace on earth, goodwill to all’ we show that we are on our way towards becoming human. Every time we seek out how to live peaceably together with those who are different from us, every time we try out ways of showing goodwill to all – without prejudice – we’re making the same move that the shepherds and the magi made.
Notes
[1] Richard Atkinson, Beyond politeness between religions, Church Times, 18 Dec 2015.
[2] Walter Wink, The Human Being: Jesus and the Enigma of the Son of the Man, p.336, note 3.
[3] Jonathan Powell, Talking to Terrorists: How to End Armed Conflicts, p.76.
[4] Charles Wesley, ‘Hark! The herald angels sing’
[5] Walter Wink, The Human Being: Jesus and the Enigma of the Son of the Man, p. 26. Of this passage, Paul Neuchterlein writes: ‘This is a startling and concise statement of the importance of Mimetic Theory, as it bridges the gap between the Revelation and the human sciences’ ability to help us to finally understand what it means to become human. Paul Neuchterlein, Facebook post, 21 November 2015.
Baby Jesus: The Force Awakens – working title of a sermon not yet (and maybe never will be) written.
… When Jesus makes judgements, he does so as a vulnerable one, as one exposed to the deathly powers of others. Rather than being prepared to destroy to assert his own power, Jesus is prepared to be destroyed, to give everything away in the cause of love and life. Jesus’ judgement has a very different quality from the judgement of John. Relinquishing the power to destroy others the judgement of Jesus is not concerned with death. When his judgement comes, it comes on the other side of death, death which he has overcome, and it carries the power of life in all its fullness. His judgement is to encourage us to become more fully human by improving our behaviour towards the least of the children of the world.
What relevance has this to the way we live today? Well, I suggest that the Judgment of John is all around us. Violent retribution is the order of the day. Fire rains down on the people of Syria, on the people of Iraq, on the people of Palestine, in a world of eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth militarised politics. We have judged a people to be violent; so we will destroy them with fire. We have judged a people to be dangerous; so we will close our borders to them. We have judged the poor to be feckless, we have judged the refugees to be opportunistic scroungers, so we refuse to help them. Even at a domestic level, our popular entertainment is fixated on judgmentalism. Saturday night TV – on one channel, dancers, on another channel, singers, are judged by panels of powerful people and, at the push of a button by the general public, are rejected, ejected, sent into an outer darkness where no TV studio light shines. Just like John, vindictive judgmentalism is in our blood.
But those who embrace Jesus the human one, the son of man, have no need to fear Judgement, or to embrace judgmentalism. Our life in Jesus is a process of working towards full humanity, of being slowly and graciously formed into the image of the God who made us in love and forms us in forgiveness. ‘There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,’ writes Paul (Romans 8.1); even when he succumbed to using apocalyptic language Paul still said effectively the same thing: ’[You will be] blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ (1 Corinthians 1.18). Embracing the life of the son of man releases us from the death sentence. No longer motivated by a fear of death, it is a love of life which motivates those who place themselves alongside Jesus. …
– from my talk today, The judgement of Jesus and the Judgement of John (2015)
Philippians 4.4-7, Luke 3.7-18
West Camel, Weston Bampfylde, Third Sunday of Advent, 6/12/2015
We believe in the Last Judgement. Our creeds affirm it; week by week we say together, ‘He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead’. But such language might seem distant, disconnected from our lives, our loves, our hopes in a week when our judgements have mostly been on the level of who to include on this year’s Christmas Card list, or whether a grandson would appreciate an iTunes gift voucher more than a DVD box set.
So, do we believe in the Last Judgement? Our creeds affirm what the scriptures tell us, that, after the Resurrection of the Dead and the Second Coming of Christ, every nation will be finally and eternally judged by God.
John the Baptist believed in the Last Judgement. That severe man believed that the Last Judgement was coming soon: ‘Even now the axe is lying at the root of the trees’, he said, ‘every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire’. And in John’s view the Judge who was coming soon was one who would judge in great power, great force, wielding a winnowing-fork ‘to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary’; burning the chaff ‘with unquenchable fire.’
The Judgement of John is a Judgement to fear. John’s Judge comes carrying tools of destruction. He comes wielding lethal fire. Those who want to escape that Judgement are motivated by the fear of death. Fear is the father of their good works, fear the impulse for their obedient behaviour.
Is the Judgement of John the Judgement we believe in? Many people do. Many people believe that at the end of time we will each stand before the Great White Throne, where Christ will send us to either eternal life or an eternity in the lake of fire. Only if we surrender ourselves to Him will he save us.
But all this fear, and all this destructive fire: is the Judgement of John the Judgement we believe in? Or is the judgement of Jesus something else altogether?
We know from the way the gospel stories unfold that John found it hard to understand Jesus, when he came. For he found that Jesus’ view of judgement was quite different from the way John had foreseen it. John’s messianic Judge came carrying the powers of death and destruction, in fearful fire. But Jesus renounced all such powers; he came as a child, came as a servant; he came as one prepared to give everything away in the cause of love and life; the fire he wielded was the gentle heat of God’s Holy Spirit.
It’s notable that Jesus refused to call himself a messiah, except once under extreme duress in the kangaroo court which led to his execution. ‘Jesus avoided designations such as Messiah, Son of God, or God, though these titles were given to him by his disciples after his death and resurrection’. [2] We have to read the New Testament very carefully so as to understand the difference between how Jesus described himself, and the way the writers of the book embellished it. Jesus was keen to avoid being seen as a divine ruler breathing retribution through nostrils of fire; far keener to call himself the son of man, the son of the man, the human one. Jesus was less concerned with wreaking judgments on others, more concerned with demonstrating what it means to be fully human.
It’s notable that Jesus taught his followers, ‘Do not judge, so that you may not be judged’ (Matthew 7.1) and that no one but the Father knows about ‘that day or hour, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son’ (Matthew 24.36). Unlike John, Jesus had little to say about the last judgement, his concern was to focus attention on living well in the here and now, on following the son of man in becoming more fully human, in the image of the loving God.
With regard to judgment, he came as a child, came as a servant. Now, children and servants do have power to judge others. But not a messianic power. They judge from a position of vulnerability, their judgements are their response to the way that powerful people have dealt with them. And so a child will say, ‘I like my uncle, he always tells me stories that make me smile’. And a servant will say, ‘I can’t respect my employer because when I work extra hours he gives me no extra pay’.
So Jesus judges that way, as he demonstrated when he said, ‘Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me. [… For] just as you did it to one of the least of these my children, you did it to me’. (Matthew 25.34-36)
When Jesus makes judgements, he does so as a vulnerable one, as one exposed to the deathly powers of others. Rather than being prepared to destroy to assert his own power, Jesus is prepared to be destroyed, to give everything away in the cause of love and life. Jesus’ judgement has a very different quality from the judgement of John. Relinquishing the power to destroy others the judgement of Jesus is not concerned with death. When his judgement comes, it comes on the other side of death, death which he has overcome, and it carries the power of life in all its fullness. His judgement is to encourage us to become more fully human by improving our behaviour towards the least of the children of the world.
What relevance has this to the way we live today? Well, I suggest that the Judgment of John is all around us. Violent retribution is the order of the day. Fire rains down on the people of Syria, on the people of Iraq, on the people of Palestine, in a world of eye-for-an-eye, tooth-for-a-tooth militarised politics. We have judged a people to be violent; so we will destroy them with fire. We have judged a people to be dangerous; so we will close our borders to them. We have judged the poor to be feckless, we have judged the refugees to be opportunistic scroungers, so we refuse to help them. Even at a domestic level, our popular entertainment is fixated on judgmentalism. Saturday night TV – on one channel, dancers, on another channel, singers, are judged by panels of powerful people and, at the push of a button by the general public, are rejected, ejected, sent into an outer darkness where no TV studio light shines. Just like John, vindictive judgmentalism is in our blood.
But those who embrace Jesus the human one, the son of man, have no need to fear Judgement, or to embrace judgmentalism. Our life in Jesus is a process of working towards full humanity, of being slowly and graciously formed into the image of the God who made us in love and forms us in forgiveness. ‘There is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus,’ writes Paul (Romans 8.1); even when he succumbed to using apocalyptic language Paul still said effectively the same thing: ’[You will be] blameless on the day of our Lord Jesus Christ.’ (1 Corinthians 1.18). Embracing the life of the son of man releases us from the death sentence. No longer motivated by a fear of death, it is a love of life which motivates those who place themselves alongside Jesus.
If Jesus judges us at all then he judges us in love, in self-giving generosity, in the gentle fire of the Holy Spirit. His judgement gives us the power to live in the power of the son of man, the human one. This is why Paul encourages the believers to ‘Rejoice in the Lord always [… to] not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.’
There is a popular song called ‘The power of love’ whose refrain goes like this:
The power of love / A force from above / Cleaning my soul
Flame on, burn desire / Love with tongues of fire / Purge the soul
Make love your goal [3]
Holly Johnson, who co-wrote the song, was quoted as saying that ‘I always felt like The Power Of Love was the record that would save me in this life. There is a biblical aspect to its spirituality and passion; the fact that love is the only thing that matters in the end.’ [4]
In the end – here and now, and at the Last Judgement, whatever that may be – love is all that matters. That is the spirit in which Jesus judges us. If we have faith in the judgement of Jesus then we know ourselves to be loved. Our lives will be full, our good works will spill out from our hearts as they burn with the gracious fire of the Holy Spirit. We need fear death no more. There is no fear in love.
Interestingly, despite all that I’ve said about John the Baptist beforehand, it is he who gives some insight into what living a life of love looks like, practically: giving to others in need, being honest in business, not abusing your position – everyday ways to become more fully human, to live a life of love. [5]
And so, make love your goal:
‘Let your gentleness be known to everyone,’ says St Paul. ‘The Lord is near.’
Notes
[1] A revision of the sermon first preached as The judgment of Jesus and the judgment of John in Devon in 2012.
[2] This sermon is influenced by Anthony C. Thiselton, The Last Things, A New Approach, and this paragraph in particular by Walter Wink, The Human Being: Jesus and the Enigma of the Son of the Man, like all the works of the late writer, a seminal text.
[3] Frankie Goes to Hollywood Lyrics: The Power of Love.
[4] Wikipedia: The Power of Love (Frankie Goes to Hollywood song)
[5] Paragraph added in acknowledgement of the point raised by Stuart Elliot in his comment of 13 December 2015, that John the Baptist’s message isn’t all bad news.
"… I'm just a bit worried that people have written me off as a bit of a freak. The wild man who came in from the desert ranting and raging.
Most of the artists who have painted me over the centuries have shown me out in the desert, surrounded by wild beasts, a hairy bloke, dressed for the wild outdoors. Lots of painters picture me with long, scraggy hair, sticking up in a way that makes me look like a Ken Dodd or a Russell Brand – windswept and out of control.
Mind you, I'm impressed with Caravaggio's paintings. He's got my age about right – I was a young man when I was out in the desert, and he's made me young, strong and supple, and if I may say so, quite attractive looking. In one picture I'm fighting off wild animals barehanded. But while the other artists give me bad hair to make me seem wild, Caravaggio's given me a look on my face which suggests I'm going through some sort of deep inner torment. It's like my mind is alive with massive, monstrous ideas, and that I'm struggling to come to terms with them out there alone in the wilderness. And, to be honest, that's close to the truth.
Because, as the 20th century writer Daniel Berrigan says, the desert is a place of combat and rebirth. I didn't go there to escape. I went there to wrestle with my faith, to give myself totally and completely over to God in thought and prayer, to discover who God wanted me to be. …"
– from my talk today, A letter from John the Baptiser.
