My All Saints Day roll of honour

All Saints Sunday, 3 November 2024, Eldroth, Clapham

On this All Saints Day we recall all those ghosts, saints, and souls we hold in blessed memory:

 

We recall those first signs of our first human ancestors,

200,000 years ago, in what we now call the Rift Valley, Kenya;

the Mesolithic People; the first ‘Britons’ in a land

we would recognise, after the last Ice Age, 11,000 years ago:

 

We recall Abraham and Sarah, and Isaac, about 4,000 years ago, 2000 BC,

journeying into the unknown, with just their Trust in a Hunch;

and beginning the Story of Faith that is the Bible;

to become Judaism, Christianity, Islam, and

the Renaissance, the Human, Social and the Political Sciences:

 

We recall Naomi and Ruth, Isaiah and the ‘discovery’ of  YAHWEH

by the powerless people of Israel:

 

John The Baptist and all the Prophets,

who spoke God’s truth no matter the cost:

We recall Mary, full of grace, called to be the singer of the song

of the poor, and the mother of the Lord of the Dance:

We recall the Men of the Disciples, who came to understand

WHAT HE HAD DONE FOR THEM;

And Lazarus, who did nothing but simply die – to be resurrected by the One

whose own resurrection was soon to follow:

We remember Lazarus’ sisters Martha and Mary 

and the Women at the cross, who were the first to ‘UNDERSTAND’ the resurrection:

 

We recall George, who battled THE DRAGON:

We recall Columba, Cuthbert, and the Venerable Bede of Jarrow

for guarding the sacredness of these Celtic British Lands:

We recall John of the Cross and the ‘Cloud of Unknowing”,

and all those who dared to show the dark face of God:

 

We recall Arthur Pendragon, King of the Britons;

Llywelyn of the Welsh, Robin Hood, Rob Roy MacGregor, King Edward The Confessor,

And all those who became the stuff of legend and myth:

 

We recall all the risk-takers, peacemakers and martyrs of our own time:

among them Abraham Lincoln, Mary Secole, Mahatma Ghandi, Dag Hammarskjöld:

 

We recall all those prophets and ‘saints’ of the Church across the ages;

Augustine; Ignatius; Francis; Thomas Aquinas;

Hildegard of Bingen, Gustavo Gutierrez, Pope John the twenty-third,

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Dorothy Day, Mother Teresa, Brother Roger of Taizé;

William Wilberforce, George McLeod of Iona, Martin Luther King Jr, Billy Graham, Nelson Mandela.

 

We recall all poets and prophets, writers and singers, scientists, philosophers and artists 

whose works have inspired us:  

William Shakespeare, Jane Austen, J.R.R.Tolkien, the Wesley brothers, the Isley brothers;

We recall Ludwig Von Beethoven, Leonardo da Vinci, Lennon and McCartney;

Glen Miller, Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash:

 

We think of Dylan Thomas, T.S.Eliot, Wilfred Owen, Roger McGough; 

We remember Morecambe and Wise, Tommy Cooper, Stan Laurel and Spike Milligan;

Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh:

 

We recall our sporting heroes of different eras and codes; 

We celebrate all who gave heart to us by giving their heart.

 

We are grateful for those who built Jerusalem

as a holy meeting point of the world;

for those who have rebuilt Jerusalem over and over from the rubble of many conflicts and wars,

and will do so again – soon, we pray, let it be soon;

 

and we honour those who would build Jerusalem here in England’s green and pleasant land:

We recall all the heroes, holy ones, saints, and souls

remembered by us alone, or God alone: 

 

we especially bring to mind the saints of our own lives 

who invested teaching, friendship and trust in us;

We recall all those of our own hearts and minds,

who were of us, and informed our spirit for our way.

 

John Davies. Based on a wonderful original by Robert Gallagher, November 2015

Revised from my blog post, 1 November 2015

‘The non-person is God’s child’: believing is seeing with Bartimaeus and Gutiérrez

Mark 10.46-52

Last Sunday after Trinity, 27 October 2024, Austwick, Clapham

We often hear the expression, seeing is believing. It comes from a material, physical view of life, which holds that the only things which are real to us are those things which we can see, or quantify, or prove. And which tends to exclude those vast areas of human experience which may be invisible, but are just as real to us – what goes on in our mind, in our emotions, in our spirit.

The story of Jesus’ encounter with Bartimaeus turns that expression on its head and shows us another way. For Bartimaeus teaches us that believing is seeing.

Believing is seeing. Viewing life through the eyes of faith reveals a very different perspective.

Believing is seeing. The believer is one whose eyes are opened to the world in a whole new way.

You don’t even need your sight to know this. The blind beggar teaches us that believing is seeing. 

Bartimaeus may not have had the sight that others had, but his faith in Jesus was by no means blind faith. Jericho was a tourist spot, the last pilgrimage stop before Jerusalem. A beggar at the gate of a city on the pilgrimage trail, Bartimaeus would have heard the pilgrims discussing Jesus’ words and actions, debating whether Jesus’ authority to teach and heal came from God. Street people like Bartimaeus always have their ears to the ground, their insights are forged through a combination of hard lived experience and conversations with all sorts of people.

We can imagine Bartimaeus’ faith being sparked by the excitement of hearing about Jesus’ teaching of the kingdom of God, the new way of life which Jesus was bringing into the world, which had at its very centre, good news for the poor. [1] How Bartimaeus’ faith must have grown in his heart as he realised that meant the good news the kingdom of God was for him.

Jesus’ teaching meant Bartimaeus could see himself differently. Others, quick to condemn the beggars, would dub them unclean, untouchable, defiled. That’s how the passers-by saw those who begged at the gate. But Bartimaeus will have heard Jesus teaching that what defiled a person was not their outward appearance, but what came out of their hearts. [2] This helped Bartimaeus to see that he was every bit as valued and loved by God as the next person. 

Banished to the gate of the city – abandoned outside, among the lowest of the low – Bartimaeus came to understand Jesus’ teaching that in the kingdom of God, the ones considered first in their society would be last, and the ones considered last would be first [3]. This revealed to Bartimaeus the amazing truth that he was highly regarded in this kingdom of God coming into the world.

Society would try to keep him in his place, but Jesus would transform him. He had just a cloak to warm his back at night and to spread out on the ground to collect the pennies the pilgrims might toss him in the day. But when Jesus called him, Bartimaeus threw off his cloak, sprang up and went to him. Any pennies he had collected rolled away into the dust. Even before he was given his sight Bartimaeus threw away all he had because his eyes were opened to a different world, his view of himself, of God, of life, now removed from all restrictions and bathed in the light of Christ. And Jesus said to him, ‘Go; your faith has made you well’.

Imagine if Bartimaeus had remained burdened by the view that ‘seeing is believing’ – that the way things appear are the way they should remain. Accept your status as a poor outcast, believing that God has put you there. Know your place. Don’t fight it. Don’t dare dream of a different way. But no, Bartimaeus believed Jesus saying, ‘The last will be first’. It gave him a vision of a different future for himself. And he followed on that way.

Mark’s gospel is full of men who Jesus calls blind; that is, people who have sight, but whose inner vision is constricted by a poverty of belief, by belief in something other than Jesus’ kingdom values.

Remember, for example, the disciples James and John, who wanted to sit at either side of Jesus in his glory, believing that their happiness was determined by their social status. Jesus opened their eyes to his way of relating, where ‘whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all’. [4] 

Believing is seeing. What we believe influences how we see the world. How does this work for us?

Do we believe – as Jericho’s comfortably-off believed – that people in our society like Bartimaeus have only themselves to blame for their poverty? That we can thus treat them as untouchables, and abandon them to sort out their problems alone, without our care or intervention?

Or do we believe – with Bartimaeus – the good news that ‘Blessed are the poor… for theirs is the kingdom of God’? [5] And with Gustavo Gutiérrez, the Peruvian philosopher, theologian, and Dominican priest, widely regarded as ‘the father of liberation theology’, who died this week aged 96, and whose lifetime’s work was concerned with the central pastoral question, ‘How do we convey to the poor that God loves them?’ [6]

Gutiérrez perceived that so many in Latin America had been written off by the rest of the world. The poorest, abandoned outside the gate. He wrote that ‘the question in Latin America will not be how to speak of God in a world come of age, but rather how to proclaim God as Father in a world that is inhumane. What can it mean to tell a non-person that he or she is God’s child?’ [7] 

The liberation theologians teach us that it is the blind beggars of the world who will open our eyes, with their insights into life, as they experience it, and into scripture, as they understand it.

Believing Jesus’ kingdom values means seeing others differently. As James and John came to see others not as pawns in their power games, as means to their self-promotion, but as people to be served, for the betterment of all. 

Jesus taught that the kingdom of God means what God is doing in the here-and-now, to privilege the poorest in society, to challenge other people’s judgmental attitudes towards them, to open up ways to transform human relationships economically, politically, physically. This is what is meant in Catholic social teaching by ‘The Preferential Option for the Poor’, which, Gustavo Gutiérrez wrote, ‘involves a commitment that implies leaving the road one is on’ in order to enter the world of an ‘insignificant’ person; selflessness is the goal of this lifestyle. [8]

Interesting that this roots the kingdom of God in our material, physical life. It connects our inner life to the way we act out in empathy and compassion towards others, particularly those at the roadside, outside the gates. The more we do this, the clearer it becomes for all to see that ‘the kingdom of God is among us’.

Notes

A rewrite of Bartimaeus: Believing is seeing, preached in Somerset in 2015 and Devon in 2012. Influenced by the life and teachings of Gustavo Gutiérrez, who died this week (22 October 2024) and by Ched Myers, Binding the Strong Man: A Political Reading of Mark’s Story of Jesus, p.281ff.

[1] Luke 4.14-21.

[2] Mark 7.15.

[3] Mark 10.31.

[4] Mark 10.35-45. 

[5] Luke 6.20.

[5] Matthew 5.3, Luke 6.20.

[6] Gustavo Gutiérrez, Hablar de Dios desde el sufrimiento del inocente. Una reflexión de el libro de Job. Quoted in translation in Wikipedia: Gustavo Gutiérrez.

[7] Gustavo Gutiérrez, The Power of the Poor in History, p.57.

[8] Gustavo Gutiérrez, The Option for the Poor Arises From Faith in Christ. Theological Studies (70): 318. Quoted in Wikipedia: Option for the poor.

Outside Fantasy: The High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek

Hebrews 5.1-10, Mark 10.35-45

Twenty-First Sunday after Trinity, 20 October 2024,

Austwick, Clapham, Eldroth

When I see the writer of the Hebrews describing Jesus as ‘A High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek’, it strikes me that that name sounds like the name of a fantasy hero. You know, from the world of fantasy films and video gaming, very popular these days. It is a place of heroes and anti-heroes, moving in combat between different worlds in a fast-flowing series of scenes, endlessly battling to gain and regain power of different sorts. These fantasies often draw on well-known myths and legends, on scripture and folklore.

Each character tends to come from a particular class: a class that excels in combat, or magic, a professional or criminal class. The influential fantasy game Dungeons & Dragons features four classes of players: Fighting Men, Thieves, Wizards – and the Clerics, who specialise in healing and supportive magical abilities. [2]

There are many Priests in fantasy gaming. In Final Fantasy, a franchise which has sold over 185 million units worldwide, ‘The Priests are physically weak and vulnerable, but their healing powers are quite significant. Their powerful Holy spell and … their curative magic … makes them offensively valuable.…’ [3]

Famous priests in fantasy gaming include Nightcrawler, a superhero in the Marvel Comics X-Men series, and Father Markus Kane, in Fahrenheit, a paranormal thriller set in New York City. [4] The fantasy genre goes wider than games, of course. Look at the mainline TV schedules – Doctor Who, with its fantastic creatures from all manner of orders and worlds; and the massively popular Game of Thrones, whose Red Priests and Priestesses possess the power to bring people back to life. [5]

Have you ever visited the Harry Potter film studios in Hertfordshire? I think it’s one of the most fantastic places I’ve ever been to – fantastic in every sense of that word. When I visited that vast arena of full-size sets created for the Harry Potter films, I was overwhelmed by the scale, the craftsmanship, the creativity and above all the tremendous imagination which went into creating each set and each character, down to the tiniest details. It’s a wonderland, a world of creation.

On the film studio tour I read a quote from Steve Kloves, one of the films’ screenwriters, considering why the Harry Potter films appeal so much to their vast worldwide audiences: ‘The thing about Potter,’ he said, ‘is that it’s very earnest about expressions of things like loyalty, courage and redemption. Audiences were hungry for that.’ [6]

Which suggests that beneath the thrills of the fantasy world, its fans are searching for something deeper. They are looking for values which they can take from the stories and apply in their ordinary lives, away from the screen.

So, back to Jesus as A High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek. What sort of character is he; and what are his powers? Could the Christian story have that something which people are looking for?

The Order of Melchizedek was the oldest and greatest of all Israel’s priestly lines. Genesis affirms that Melchizedek was “priest of God Most High”. Abraham paid tithes to Melchizedek, and in the Psalms David pronounced that the future King of kings or Messiah was a “priest for ever after the order of Melchizedek.”. This order of priests were the most powerful of all. You would want them on your side in any holy battle. When the writer of Hebrews called Jesus a High Priest, he placed him at the very pinnacle of this order. [7]

Maybe some fantasy fans will be drawn to Jesus a High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek, if we tell them about him. They will certainly find something surprising, something unique. Because of all the heroes of scripture, Jesus plays to a different set of rules. They called him Messiah, but Jesus didn’t behave the way they’d expected. For this High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek turns out to be not a cleric militant, not a crusader advancing the cause of righteousness with arms, armour, and magic. Jesus uses his powers in a unique way. He is the king who came ‘not to be served but to serve’; he is the messiah who ‘gave his life a ransom for many’. 

Jesus breaks the rules and breaks the mould. If he was a character in an online game he would melt the computer down because he just would not co-operate with the rules of engagement. This is the great appeal of Jesus the High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek, not so much his absolute holy power, but the way he refused to use that power in violence against others. His self-giving love breaks the cycle of death. Only he can do this. This is very good news in a world of violence, whose online games and big-screen fantasies trap us in a web from which it seems there is no escape – where we are consigned to play out endless battles, over and over again, to gain and regain power of different sorts. 

People are caught up in this cycle of aggression because they are offered no alternative, in the fantasy world or the political world or the business or academic or social world. Yet we hunger for values like loyalty, courage and redemption. We long for love, and grace, and peace. The sorts of values displayed by The High Priest of the Order of Melchizedek. 

Point people towards Jesus and you point them to a whole new liberating way of life, in which the loving creator God enables you to live outside conflict, in generous relationships with others. There’s a fantasy game called ‘Evil High Priest’, in which all the priests worship the same Great Old One, who will decide which among them is the best (based on how many points they’ve gained from fighting each other) and who will appoint that priest, and that priest only, to be the High Priest, the winner. [8] 

But this is in the ultra-competitive, violent fantasy world. Into the reality of God’s world, Jesus comes. Wielding no sword or magic power, he comes as a servant, he comes as a gift.

Notes

[1] A rewrite of The High Priest of Melchizedek – hero for our times? first preached in Devon in 2012, and published in my Devon Sermons, and in modified form in Somerset in 2015 and at Eldroth in 2018.

[2] Wikipedia, Character class, Cleric.

[3] Caves of Narshe website, Final Fantasy Tactics Job Classes: Priest.

[4] Wikipedia, List of fictional clergy and religious figures: Priests.

[5] Game of Thrones Wikia: Red Priest.

[6] Steve Kloves quote from a display photographed at the Warner Brothers Studio Tour, London.

[7] Genesis 14.18, Psalm 110.1-4.

[8] Evil High Priest, from boardgamegeek.com.

Harvest 2024: The Overstory

Austwick, Sunday 13 October 2024

You may have read, or heard about a book by Richard Powers, The Overstory. This remarkable novel is all about trees, and helped to popularise the idea that “trees could communicate, over the air and through their roots”, a concept that became known as the Wood Wide Web: the idea that “seeds remember the seasons of their childhood and set buds accordingly. That trees sense the presence of other nearby life. That a tree learns to save water. That trees feed their young and synchronise their masts and bank resources and warn kin and send out signals to wasps to come and save them from attacks. That a forest knows things. They wire themselves up underground. There are brains down there, ones our own brains aren’t shaped to see.”

The Overstory insists that “This is not our world with trees in it. It’s a world of trees, where humans have just arrived.” In one section, Richard Powers offers us this brief history of life on earth:

“Say the planet is born at midnight and it runs for one day. First there is nothing. Two hours are lost to lava and meteors. Life doesn’t show up until three or four a.m. Even then, it’s just the barest self-copying bits and pieces. 

From dawn to late morning – a million million years of branching – nothing more exists than lean and simple cells. Then there is everything. Something wild happens, not long after noon. One kind of simple cell enslaves a couple of others. Nuclei get membranes. Cells evolve organelles. What was once a solo campsite grows into a town. 

The day is two-thirds done when animals and plants part ways. And still life is only single cells. Dusk falls before compound life takes hold. Every large living thing is a latecomer, showing up after dark. Nine p.m. brings jellyfish and worms. Later that hour comes the breakout—backbones, cartilage, an explosion of body forms. 

From one instant to the next, countless new stems and twigs in the spreading crown burst open and run. Plants make it up on land just before ten. Then insects, who instantly take to the air. Moments later, tetrapods crawl up from the tidal muck, carrying around on their skin and in their guts whole worlds of earlier creatures. 

By eleven, dinosaurs have shot their bolt, leaving the mammals and birds in charge for an hour. Somewhere in that last sixty minutes, high up in the phylogenetic canopy, life grows aware. 

Creatures start to speculate. Animals start teaching their children about the past and the future. Animals learn to hold rituals. Anatomically modern man shows up four seconds before midnight. The first cave paintings appear three seconds later. 

And in a thousandth of a click of the second hand, life solves the mystery of DNA and starts to map the tree of life itself. 

By midnight, most of the globe is converted to row crops for the care and feeding of one species. And that’s when the tree of life becomes something else again. That’s when the giant trunk starts to teeter.” 

In that surprisingly brief period between four seconds before midnight and the end of the day Jesus showed up to say, ‘many who are first will be last, and the last will be first’. 

It ought to humble us humans, having separated ourselves off from the rest of creation and put ourselves and our own desires above all the other species on earth, are, in Jesus’ words, ‘the first’, who, at this point in history are learning, as Richard Powers writes, that “People aren’t the apex species they think they are. Other creatures – bigger, smaller, slower, faster, older, younger, more powerful – call the shots, make the air, and eat sunlight. Without them, nothing.” 

What is Harvest Festival for, in this time we live in? With this new consciousness emerging? I suggest that Harvest calls us to celebrate the diversity and wonder of life, and to give thanks for all that the earth’s other species provide for us. We can also take Harvest as an opportunity to commit ourselves to learning how to be humble and to take a new place, not above, but among, all the other species, celebrating what we have in common:

“You and the tree in your backyard come from a common ancestor,” writes Powers. “A billion and a half years ago, the two of you parted ways. But even now, after an immense journey in separate directions, that tree and you still share a quarter of your genes”.

 

Note

[1] Richard Powers, The Overstory.