Month: May 2024

1 Samuel 3.1-10, Mark 2.23-3.6

The First Sunday of Trinity, 2 June 2024, Eldroth, Clapham

This year marks a notable anniversary in our country. It is thirty years since the Sunday Trading Act became law.

Before then, buying and selling on Sunday had been illegal, with some few exceptions. Since then, as we know, Sundays have been transformed from a nationwide day of rest to another working day, and shopping day, for large numbers of people. 

Supporters of Sunday shopping argue that restricting opening hours is out of kilter with the 24/7 economy in goods and services that people have come to expect and rely on, that stores should be allowed to open when they like; that extending opening hours benefits the economy by creating thousands of jobs and generates millions in extra revenue. The old idea of Sunday being a day of rest has largely disappeared, they argue, with sporting and other events now also held on a Sunday.

Opponents of Sunday shopping see it as a symbol of the creeping commercialisation and secularisation of British society. Their concern is with protecting the special, spiritual nature of Sundays, churchgoers and all who want a different pace of life, focused on the family rather than mammon. They dispute the economic benefits of Sunday opening, claiming that it merely shifts trade from other days, and that its accommodation to the demands of the retail giants damages small businesses, and takes family time away from shop workers. [1]

Why talk about this in church on a Sunday? Well, our scriptures have a lot to say about the Sabbath and the politics of food. All the way from the episode over the manna in the wilderness, which was about feeding a hungry people; to Jesus turning over the tables of the temple traders, protesting the religious system’s exploitation of the poor for financial gain. In scripture a companion to the Sabbath is the Jubilee, which is a time of debt-forgiveness, when peasant farmers who have been bought out and evicted, are enabled to return to the homes and lands they had lost. In scripture, Sabbath and Jubilee show us that God’s economics is a divine economics of grace. [2] 

And so to today’s gospel argument about Jesus defending his disciples when they plucked grain on the Sabbath, which had itself become something of an idol in the society of the day:

Sabbath practice was at the heart of First Century Palestinian life. The Jewish leaders forced people to serve the Sabbath as if the Sabbath itself were some sort of god. Those leaders who controlled the rules of the Sabbath were the ones who benefitted the most from them: and what began as a divine economy of grace designed to benefit all of God’s children was turned into an unjust economy of oppression which disproportionately benefitted the wealthy. Jesus confronts this idolatry with the simple saying, ‘The sabbath was made for humankind, and not humankind for the sabbath; so the Son of Man is Lord even of the sabbath’. [3]

With his eyes ever open to how the powerful and wealthy exploit the disadvantaged poor, Jesus challenges the man-made rules of the Pharisees which stop a hungry person eating on the Sabbath. He uses an example they find hard to oppose: the story of what their revered king David did when he and his companions were hungry and in need of food – he broke the religious rules and ate the priestly bread.

Now, it can be argued that at the heart of our twenty-first century Western life is what is known as the ‘free market,’ which has been exalted to a semi-divine status. As if the market itself were some sort of a god, we are asked to serve its invisible workings, in faith that it will in turn bless us. Of course, it doesn’t; for the only ones who benefit from this ‘free market’ are the few whose wealth controls the rules. There is growing inequality in society: consider, for instance, the regrettable rise of foodbanks over the past twenty years. [4]

Can we see how the market has replaced the sabbath as a new religion of our time? How, rather than being disciples, we are now expected to be consumers, devoted to serving the needs of the voracious gods of capital? Our rituals, once around the bread and wine, are now around the Chip and Pin. The checkout has replaced the altar rail, the Amazon app has replaced the prayer book.

If we reshaped our gospel story for today then we might read that:

One Sunday Jesus and his disciples were walking through through the shopping precinct; and after some time his disciples found a space beneath an escalator, spread their coats on the floor, sat down, opened their bags, and began to eat and drink food they’d packed for themselves for the day. Three security guards soon appeared, and said to him, ‘Look, why are they doing what is not lawful in the shopping mall? They can only eat and drink food that they’ve bought here’. And he said to them,‘The market was made for humankind, and not humankind for the market; so the Son of Man is Lord even of the market.’

Now, if the Son of Man is Lord, even of the market, and our heart desires to serve that lord, then how could we be living on the Sabbath? 

Could we make it solely a day of rest, a day entirely devoted our worship and nothing else? Not all of us can, of course, for among us are those who have to work, like our farmers, or those who have no option, like the thousands of shop workers and those in the service industries bound by the economic practices of our day. For these, the question may instead be, how can we build into each day, or each week, our own sort of sabbath practice of rest, prayer, recuperation, pause?

Or could we make the Sabbath a day of gentle protest against the idolatrous ways of the market? The one day when we resist the temptation to click our Amazon app; the one day we stop ourselves from shopping. 

Inspired by Jesus’ rule-breaking disciples how about making it a day for going down to Bensons with your favourite quilt and taking a nap on one of their showroom beds? Or undercutting the supermarkets’ shrink-wrapped vegetable trade by tending your own veggie patch? Baking your own bread? Learning how to mend that broken toaster rather than chucking it out and buying a replacement? Those who are inclined to express our opinion might join the Keep Sunday Special campaign, which is a coalition of churches, small retailers and workers lobbying government to ensure our laws put the needs of people and communities before corporations. [5]

Learning from Jesus’ treatment of the Sabbath it becomes an opportunity for us to find new ways of – let’s call it – going to market; ways which help us sidestep consumerism for the sake of community and the good earth?

The bible’s Sabbath traditions must continue to inspire us to rest and pray; to centre ourselves before God, whilst also reflecting on how we respond to his call to join in his ongoing work of life and liberation for a world gone awry. [6]

Notes

[1] Open all hours? The arguments over Sunday trading. BBC, 7 July 2015.

[2] Paul Nuecterlein, Girardian Lectionary. Reflections: Year B, Proper 4b: Note on Ched Myers, with Marie Dennis, Joseph Nangle, Cynthia Moe-Lobeda, and Stuart Taylor, “Say to This Mountain’: Mark’s Story of Discipleship, chapter 3, ‘Jubilee!’, pp. 22-30

[3] Paul Nuecterlein, Girardian Lectionary. Reflections: Year B, Proper 4b. Opening Comments: Elements of a New Reformation.

[4] Paul Nuecterlein, Girardian Lectionary. Reflections: Year B, Proper 4b. Opening Comments: Elements of a New Reformation.

[5] Keepsundayspecial.org.uk.

[6] Paul Nuecterlein, Girardian Lectionary. Reflections: Year B, Proper 4b: Note on James Alison, Faith Beyond Resentment: Fragments Catholic and Gay, Chapter One, ‘The Man Blind from Birth’.

What Vennels says in Ella Barron's Guardian cartoon may or may not be partially true. But they really did speak some evil of the innocent sub postmasters.The topic of my talk this week, Among a people of unclean lips, in God, there is no condemnation.

Isaiah 6.1-8, John 3.1-17

Trinity Sunday, 26 May 2024, Austwick, Clapham

Of all the childhood slogans we used to say, perhaps the most memorable one is this:

Sticks and stones may break my bones

But words shall never hurt me.

This was what we said when the mean girls, or boys, taunted us for our size, or our looks, or our odd family, or some other perceived weakness. It was our shield, our anaesthetic, against what they’d said. 

Saying this back to them was meant to make us feel better, but most times, really, we knew that it didn’t work. People’s mean words towards us do hurt. The lies people tell about us are punishing. The bruises we may have received from sticks and stones over the years will have faded away: even broken bones will have healed; but the words those playground bullies aimed at us can still, even now, cause us deep, deep, pain.

And it goes beyond the playground. Most of us are deeply scarred by things which people have said to us, or about us, at one time or another.

And many of us are also carrying a sense of shame or regret about words that we have used to attack, or belittle, or condemn, another, whether way back when, or even right now, this week.

“I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” Brother, you and me both. 

We’re guilty of this as individuals; and we are also submerged in a culture which engages, consciously or subconsciously, in attacking, or belittling, or telling lies about others – usually those outside of our circle – thus condemning them to punishment and pain.

We see this clearly in cases where powerful institutions cover their tracks and protect their interests by smearing those who are in fact their victims. Think of the lies that were spread about sub-postmasters a decade ago, lies about their alleged criminality. This week the Reverend Paula Vennells expressed her “deep sorrow … that individuals, myself included, made mistakes, didn’t see things, didn’t hear things.” [1] But they did say things. In and out of court. And, at the time we may have unthinkingly soaked in these lies, as they were repeatedly parroted to us by the media. We know now the extent of the damage to so many sub-postmasters’ lives caused by the damning words which were so freely inflicted on them by others. [2]

The everyday truth is that in our villages and our homes, at our shops and street markets and flower festivals, we may find our lips repeating stories passed on to us, which condemn others, however subtly or politely, to different forms of punishment and pain. 

Isaiah cried out woefully, that he was a man of unclean lips, living among a people of unclean lips, because his eyes had seen God – he was awed, and humbled, and in the glorious light of God before him, he felt ashamed of the dark deeds he’d done – and more specifically, of the bad words his lips had spoken. 

In his contrite state he might have expected God to condemn him for the words that he’d used to put people down to build himself up. But instead, God’s messenger angel touched his lips with hot coals, and announced his guilt departed and his sin blotted out.

Those very lips were now to be used in God’s service, to tell the people about God’s deeds of power.

This is the surprise at the heart of the kingdom of God, which awaits each and every one of us: the surprise that those very parts of ourselves which can cause most damage to others, may be transformed, by God’s grace and through the power of his Spirit, into channels of his light, his love, his peace.

This is the commission awaiting each and every person who repents of their unclean lips, that in our villages and our homes, we find our lips telling new stories about others, stories about their being made in God’s image, loved in God’s heart, saved by God’s grace.  

For, as Jesus taught Nicodemus, ‘God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.’

Among a people of unclean lips, in God, there is no condemnation. 

In God, there is no condemnation for anyone who carries around with them the hurt and pain of words which others have spoken about them. If you have felt condemned by others, then come to God, to find that you are condemned no more, for God affirms you as his child, deeply and eternally loved, just as you are, and releases you in grace, to lift up your heart and live a life of praise.

In God, there is no condemnation for those who are the objects of wicked speech: those in society who have been wrongly accused; those in our homes and villages and churches who have been gossiped about or written-off. God is truth, and knows what is truly in a person. It is Satan who is The Accuser, the father of lies; and God who is The Chooser, who loves us unconditionally, warts and all, and wants us to join his joyful work of releasing the wrongly-accused from their chains. 

The work of Satan The Accuser is to set people against each other, the self-righteous against those they condemn, that old and terrible human activity of strengthening our own group by scapegoating innocent people. But God, The Chooser, is also at work, accepting and loving all people unconditionally. Nothing about who we are or what we have done matters to God – he chooses to love us all. [3]

The Book of James is very explicit about the power of the tongue to inflict damage, but also to save. He writes:

If any think they are religious, and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to care for orphans and widows in their distress, and to keep oneself unstained by the world. [4]

If you are sorry that you have been all too ready to repeat lies passed on to you about some others singled out for blame or shame, then come to God, who will forgive, and not condemn you, and will then release you to learn the language of grace which, through the power of his Spirit, you may use to channel his light, his love, his peace, into those very lives. 

Notes

[1] Paul Kelso, Post Office Inquiry: Horrible day for former boss Paula Vennells. Sky News, 22 May 2024.

[2] Victim Testimony. Post Office Trial: Reporting the Post Office Horizon scandal. 23 January 2019.

[3] For more on this, see my Mark 8 – Satan the Accuser and God the Chooser, preached in Liverpool, 2006, and Paul Nuechterlein, Satan the Accuser and God the Chooser, Lent 2B Sermon (1997), on which my talk is based. See also my I will draw all people to myself (2024).

[4] James 1.26-27.

Acts 2.1-21, John 15.26-27; 16.4b-15

Pentecost, 19 May 2024, Austwick, Eldroth

It will always be Pentecost in the church – because each and every one of us are spiritual people.

Spirituality is in the nature of every being, because we are made in the image of God, who is Spirit.

And whenever people come together in groups, of whatever kind, a particular sort of spirit comes into play, which is distinctive to them, and to that moment.

In Luke’s description of the events in Jerusalem at Pentecost there were three groups of people involved, and three sorts of spirit in play: 

First, the disciples who, having been waiting on the Holy Spirit’s arrival, found themselves filled with the Spirit, who gave them the ability to begin to speak in other languages. 

Second, the religious festival-goers, devout people coming together from many places in openness to the movement of God’s spirit, and thus able to understand and receive the disciples’ words about God’s deeds of power, each in their own language; 

And thirdly, the group we might call the mockers, or the scoffers. This was the group which formed in reaction against that day’s movement of God’s spirit; these were the ones in the crowd who stepped away from the others, and in a spirit of accusation and opposition, sneered at them and accused them of being drunk.

The disciples and those who received them were not under the influence of alcohol, nor were they acting through some sort of hypnosis or human persuasiveness. They were purely allowing God to work in them; consenting to be overpowered and filled by His Spirit. 

This was the very beginning of what we now call the church. For, in a liminal place where heaven and earth combined, the organic unity of the mysterious Body of Christ took on shape and form.  And, despite those vocal opponents driven by a spirit of mocking accusation, the Church community was born. [1]

Since that day, it has always been Pentecost in the church – because each and every spiritual person who is open to the Spirit, or who is waiting on the Spirit’s arrival, receives God’s Holy Spirit, and lives the spiritual life for which Christ has prepared us, in communion with everyone else who has also received.

At Pentecost the Holy Spirit comes as a rush of a violent wind, as a flame of fire, and as tongues which speak of God in the language of those who hear it.

Whichever way we look at the symbolism in this story, it is about a mind-blowing, heart-searching moment. And because it is always Pentecost in the church, it is a moment which can repeat, for each of us, each and every day. 

Some receive the Spirit as a rush of a violent wind, a wind of change which can challenge and disturb not only individuals but whole communities. Martin Luther King spoke of the storm which will not abate until a just distribution of the fruits of the earth enables all people to live dignified and decent lives. Spirituality does not exist apart from the social context. The Spirit coming is about more than individual inwardness. It means engagement: what you do with the material part of your life. It means catching the wind of change, and joining others in reshaping the world to the way that God intends it to be. 

Some receive the Spirit as a flame of fire, an energising hope here, now, in this place, in this world. Because Pentecost isn’t a once and for all happening, but an ongoing and energising event, which  enables us to live a spirit-filled life bursting out of our encounters with darkness and suffering. The spirit-filled life is characterised by joy – not a shallow cheeriness, or a sober stoicism, but the deep joy of those who live in hope. 

And some receive the Spirit as a tongue which speaks of God in the language of those who hear it. Because Pentecost is a power which helps you to have empathy for all other living things, and to connect with those others at a deep level. Through the Holy Spirit our hearts open to the lives of others; our eyes and ears, words and actions attend to their spiritual, emotional and physical needs. [2]

The late Bishop of San Salvador, Oscar Romero, once preached these words:

It will always be Pentecost in the church,
provided the church lets the beauty of the Holy Spirit
shine forth from her countenance.
When the church ceases to let her strength
rest on the power from above –
which Christ promised her
and which he gave her on that day –
and when the church leans rather on the weak forces
of the power or wealth of this earth,
then the church ceases to be noteworthy.
The church will be fair to see,
perennially young,
attractive in every age,
as long as she is faithful to the Spirit that floods her
and she reflects that Spirit
through her communities,
through her pastors,
through her very life. [3]

So, in light of this, let me close with a prayer:

Almighty God, who sent your Holy Spirit to be the life and light of your Church: open our hearts to the riches of your grace, that we may bring forth the fruit of the Spirit in love and joy and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen [4]

Notes 

[1] Eberhard Arnold, How Was the Church Established? Plough Quarterly, 28 November 2012.

[2] Section in Times New Roman font adapted from Joy Mead, Pentecost is Now.

[3] Oscar Romero, Reflections on Ascension, Plough Quarterly, 24 May, 2017. Quoting from Oscar Romero, The Violence of Love (free PDF ebook from Romero Trust). p.61.

[4] Collect from Morning Prayer in the Season of Pentecost, Celebrating Common Prayer.

“I’ve never thought for a minute that the establishment is invincible. I don’t believe that at all. I actually think it’s quite fragile.” Alex Niven, ‘Culture Needs to Change Politics’: An interview with David Peace, Tribune, 29 April 2024.