Yeshua meets John The Baptist

At this point in the season of Advent, the figure of John The Baptist features. The Gospel readings for Advent 2 & 3 both feature him, and although the focus and theme last Sunday should really be on the Prophets, I decided to do something a little different. I again used some material from the work that Debbie had put in towards writing a life of Jesus in the form of a novel "Yeshua"- some written during her illness. As she put it, she wanted to get away from "men in tea-towels" saying "yea, verily" to genuine characters - inspired by how Hilary Mantel had depicted Thomas Cromwell in Wolf Hall. 

Sadly she only got about half-way before she died. I previously read a section out in church back in 2022 and many people valued it. It was strange reading her words out loud again - especially to a room where no-one present ever met her. However, the feedback afterwards suggested that her writing could still bring new insights and inspiration to a familiar gospel story. 

We pick up the action as Yeshua [Jesus] is on his way to meet his cousin, John The Baptist.

Chapter 4 - Baptism

He had never seen the roads so quiet. He knew the road to Jerusalem like the back of his hand, but he had only ever travelled it at festival time, caught up in a crowd of noisy pilgrims. This silent, solitary journey was a new experience.

He was used to time alone, of course, in the workshop; but there was something different about the act of walking; something that focussed the mind and the heart. One step, then another, then another. One landmark reached, then the next. Each day, a day’s journey nearer to whatever it was that was waiting for him.

Once he was in the hill country, he asked anyone he passed if they had news of John, and it wasn’t long before he began to build up a picture. Exactly how long he had been living as a solitary no one was sure, but it was clear he’d been in the wilderness for some time before his first explosive appearance at the palace in Herodium.  Apparently, he’d thrown himself into the path of the royal carriage, and quoted the scriptures at Herod for a full ten minutes, denouncing his adulterous marriage and warning him of the wrath to come. This, while wearing nothing but an animal skin, and shaking his Nazarite locks like a lion tossing his mane. Why Herod had not locked him up on the spot no one knew. The story was that he was terrified.

That was the start of it, and now, it seemed, he was everywhere; intercepting travellers on the desert roads, going from village to village, warning people of the dire state both of the nation and of their own lives. And people were listening. Well, he’d known that anyway, from what Levi had said. But now it was clear that Levi wasn’t exaggerating.  

He seemed to think something momentous was about to happen; something – someone – was coming.

“John? He’s the hope of Israel. Our leaders have sold us down the river to Rome – but John is calling us back. No more collusion! Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

“He’s preparing the way – a new Exodus from the oppressors!”

 “The Lord is on the move!” An old man gripped his wrist, his eyes staring as if he’d seen an angel, or a ghost. “That’s what he said. He has seen him! The time of our occupation will end – and it will end in fire. He has seen it all.” 

“Where will I find him?”

But the old man was muttering to himself, no longer listening.

He was just south of Jericho when, finally, a group knew where he was. Young men – no more than fifteen or sixteen, most of them – running, shouting, reciting psalms. Punching the air.

“Do you know where I’ll find John?” he called out to them.

“The Baptiser? Just keep going. Head towards the river, follow the crowds. Everyone’s out there.”

“He took us through the river – just like Moses.  We’re the new Israel!” Whoops and cheers from the rest of the group.

“No more lies from Herod. The snake!”

“We’re going to bring down the city with fire!” 

“God in heaven,” he thought to himself. “What is he saying to them?”

He was off the main road now, following the well - worn tracks towards the river, through the groves of date palm, out onto the lush green of the flood plain. In less than an hour, the sandy path had turned to mud, churned by the feet of others searching for the preacher everyone was talking about. 

He could hear them before he saw them. A general hubbub at first, echoing around the valley; then one voice, clear and sharp, splitting the air like an axe. 

“Children of Abraham! Do you think your ancestry is going to save you? Clinging to the past saves no one. Look at these stones – do they not have more of a history than any of you? Do you not think God could take them and make a thousand new children for Abraham if he pleased?”

He stopped in his tracks to listen.

“Do you know what we have become, Children of Abraham? We have become stones on the road; debris, litter, blocking the path of the One we say we worship. And do you know what time it is? It’s time to clear the road. It’s time to change. Time to stop talking about who we are, and start living it. Because believe me, there’s a judgement coming. And what I’m doing here is only the start.

You think I’m the one who can save you? Oh no. Think again. There’s one coming after me, and when he comes, you won’t know what’s hit you. All I’m doing is getting you ready for him. I’m washing you with water. When he comes, he’s going to bathe you in fire.

So come on, come into the water now. If you’re ready to confess, to turn yourself around, then come and do it now. Get washed in this water to show that you’re ready. Because the time is now, do you hear me? The time is now.”

Something inside him was moving, breaking open. They were children again, he and John, sitting in the Temple courts; he all questions, John all certainties. Everywhere there were walls, barriers. Keeping Israel pure, John said.  He had kicked the walls and hit the barriers till his hands were sore, but they had not moved, and he had been shamed into silence. 

But now, moving inside him was a spring. Bubbling up under the Temple floor, a trickle first, and then a stream, and it was welling up between the walls, pressing through the cracks, dislodging the stones, forcing a way from court to court until it was flooding every colonnade, washing over every altar. And now it was a river, hurling the rocks that had once been walls down the Temple Mount and out into the desert. 

He began to walk, and then to run, and the great, heaving sob welled up from the depths of him and shuddered through his chest. He struggled for breath. The sob ached in his throat.

The time was now. It had always been now. 

They were gathered just past the place where the river divided. The main branch flowed on down towards the sea; John was standing up to his waist in the stream that filled the wadi. Half the men of Israel seemed to be in the water with him. Yeshua watched them wading towards him, one by one. 

As each one approached him, he reached out and grasped them by the shoulders. Sometimes, there was conversation; sometimes, just his eyes searching their faces. Sometimes, he called out a scripture. Then he looked up, and prayed, and plunged them down into the muddy water, and up they came, gasping like new-borns, spluttering for breath. 

Yeshua left his outer garment and his bundle on the bank, and waded into the stream. His tunic dragged, his sandals filled with water like leaky boats. He made for a boulder, sat, pulled off his sandals and threw them back to the bank. Then he waded on, into the midst of the crowd. So many men. Boys scarcely more than children; old men who needed help to stand. Rich, poor; hard to tell with their garments shed on the river bank. Some praying; some talking; some larking around. Some desperate to be there; some just following the crowd. The river levelled them all. He was jostled and trodden on, his wet skin rubbing theirs, squelching the same mud, splashed by the same gritty water. He watched, and he waited.

And then at last John’s hands were on his shoulders. His arms seemed nothing but bone and skin and sinew, as if everything else had been melted away. Yeshua looked up, and let him stare into his face. The piercing eyes widened, then blinked. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing. Then let go of his shoulders, and nodded. “I knew you would come,” he said. 

He turned away, and began to wade upstream to where the rocks divided the river. Yeshua waded after him. They leant against the rocks, as the flow of the water tried to tug them back towards the crowd.

“This is about you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I know”. And he did know, although he scarcely knew what he was saying.

He wanted to say more, but the words bubbled, broke, spilled unformed into the stream. He lost all sense of how long they had been standing there. John’s face seemed to be unmaking itself, like the face of a dying man.

“Tell me what to do.”

“Baptise me” he said.

A frown. John’s eyes, confused, searching his.

“Am I wrong then?” 

“No.”

“Then I can’t baptise you. I need you to baptise me.”

He watched the clear fresh water foaming over the rocks, sparkling in the sunlight, then immersing itself in the flow, down into the mud and grit, the sweat and the spit and the dirt of his people. 

“It has to be this way. Come with me now.”

He turned towards the wadi and waded down, past the place where John had been standing, right into the midst of the crowd.  People were watching, wondering what was going on, what the Baptiser was going to do next.

“Here”, he said.

And now John’s hands again, on his shoulder, his back, and the relief of letting go was all there was, all he could feel, all he could know, and the voices around him were lost in the overwhelming of the water, and his ears were full of it, a mighty rush like the wind, and then, for a heartbeat, the sound of silence.

He let God look at him.

He was every mother’s delight as she holds her baby, every coral red sunrise over every tranquil bay. He was every flower, every tree; he was the song of every bird. He was the first day of creation, pure and flawless and good. He was what it meant to want nothing and need nothing else. And now, he was a shoot uncoiling, pushing  back up through the water to break the surface, new and yet who he had always been. He took a great gulping breath, and shook the water from his hair. Then he threw back his head, and laughed.

John was a boy again, poised on the threshold of himself, gazing into another world. “What do I do now?” he asked.

Yeshua looked at him, and his heart was filled with such tenderness he could hardly bear it. 

“Get some rest. Eat. Know that you are loved beyond all imagining.” He laid his hand on the skinny arm as gently as if John were a child, an injured bird.

“And then?”

“Keep watching. Wait. I don’t know yet.” 

“Will you stay here?”

He gazed across the wadi; so many people, so much need. He shook his head. “I have to go. The next part, I need to do alone. But I will come. I promise, I will come.” 

What did John see, as he watched him wading back to the bank? A shadow? A trick of the light? A projection of his own exhausted dreams? All of these, perhaps. He only knew that it shone, and hovered, and its presence lingered like the scent of lilies even when it was gone. 

(c) 2016 Debbie Peatman

Thought for the day for Beverley FM for Remembrance Sunday 2024

 My Dad is 97, and although he doesn’t always remember things that have happened in the last few days, his recall of his childhood remains pretty clear – as is often the case when people get older.

Dad lived through the second world war. He left school in 1941 at the age of 14 and worked in the huge Ordnance Depot in Chilwell, just outside Nottingham, as an errand boy.

His mother – my grandma – was widowed during the First World War. Her first husband (not my grandfather), Horace, went off to war, but was sadly killed on March 24^th 1918 during the German counter-offensive. When I eventually got out to France to see his memorial at Pozières and brought back photos, I was able to show pictures to my uncle and aunt who were Horace’s children. No-one from the family had visited the location before.

Pozières cemetery and memorial

Grandma died in 1973, aged 87, and I was too young to have had a proper conversation with her about what happened. However, my dad describes an occasion when they were sheltering together from an air raid. There was a radio in the shelter, and the announcer gave out the number of German aircraft shot down that night by the RAF. The people in the shelter understandably cheered, but my dad remembers vividly that his mum did not. She quietly said “they’re some mother’s son”.

Let’s be clear, my grandma wanted to see the tyranny of Hitler defeated. She was no sympathiser with the enemy. But she retained the capacity to understand the common humanity we all share. She had received that awful news of the loss of her husband and she knew that families would be getting the same news far away. They may be on opposite sides of the conflict, but their grief would be the same.

That family story is always in my mind on Remembrance Sunday. It isn’t a celebration,  nor is it a moment to be triumphalistic. It was always intended to be a pause for sober recollection of the terrible human cost of conflict, of thanksgiving for those who put their own lives on the line for our freedom, and to commit to doing all we can to avoid it happening again.

When Jesus said “love your enemies and pray for your persecutors”, I don’t believe he was saying we should condone evil, or collude with injustice. However, I do think he was reminding us that even in the height of human division and conflict, there are some commonalities in our human condition. We are all created in the image of God, even though that image is often terribly obscured and dimmed, and we reduce our own humanity when we cease to remember the humanity of others – even those with whom we are in bitter conflict. They are, to quote my grandma, some mother’s son or daughter.

Winter Fuel Payment

Like many people, I am struggling to understand why the new government chose Winter Fuel Payment as an issue to make a stand. The difficult headlines are enduring; opposition to the decision is coming in from the right (more pensioners vote - and more vote Conservative), other opposition parties, many Labour MPs, as well as those to the left. However, the contribution that cutting the fuel payment makes to the budget deficit is relatively small. It will be even smaller if all of the pensioners who are still eligible for it via pension credit actually get the applications in. Why risk it?

One explanation of this I have heard is that the government wants to convey to the financial markets at home and abroad that it is serious about keeping the finances under control and filling in the £22 billion shortfall, which many (but not all) analyses believe is there. The problem for Labour is that it looks like they are making vulnerable people pay rather than those with more capacity to do so.

The problem with universal benefits is obvious. The point about Mick Jagger (or insert the name of any millionaire over retirement age) getting a winter fuel payment is a fair one. There is a significant cohort of pensioners who have good workplace pensions, have paid off their mortgage, and have better disposable incomes than many younger people struggling to buy homes or pay their rent. It is a legitimate question as to whether it is the best use of money to give more affluent retired people a fuel payment at all.

The difficulty in solving this is that means-testing benefits is often complicated and costly, not always saving as much as is hoped. Furthermore, any system that requires an application to be made (and these are always now online) has a number of risks - awareness, a certain stigma attached to applying for help, and not all older people are very confident with online applications.

Here's a suggestion: replace the one-off universal payment with a £300 supplement to the state pension that is in addition to any inflation increases, making it taxable. It doesn't take away all of Mick's £300, but it would at least claw-back money from the better off who will be paying tax on it - and for some that will be at the higher rate. It also uses existing systems, rather than requiring an fresh application to be made. For those without additional means, I think the pension is still below the threshold for income tax, so those with the lowest incomes would continue to receive the full amount with no further paperwork to complete. 

There may be other unforeseen problems with that, but I can't help but feel that it would have been a better and much less unpopular method to transition away from the blanket payment.

Sermon for St James, 25 July 2024

Sermon for St James the Apostle, 25 July 2024               

Matthew 20.20–28

20 Then the mother of the sons of Zebedee came to him with her sons, and kneeling before him, she asked a favour of him. ²¹And he said to her, ‘What do you want?’ She said to him, ‘Declare that these two sons of mine will sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your kingdom.’ ²²But Jesus answered, ‘You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?’ They said to him, ‘We are able.’ ²³He said to them, ‘You will indeed drink my cup, but to sit at my right hand and at my left, this is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared by my Father.’

24 When the ten heard it, they were angry with the two brothers. ²⁵But Jesus called them to him and said, ‘You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them. ²⁶It will not be so among you; but whoever wishes to be great among you must be your servant, ²⁷and whoever wishes to be first among you must be your slave; ²⁸just as the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.’     [NRSV]

 

My first parish as a vicar was at a St James’ Church at Whitley in Coventry, so I always know when his day is coming round, and it is often when people have just gone on holiday! However, we are getting ahead of ourselves. The first question to ask is which James are we talking about? 

In the New Testament, there are several people called James:

• James the son of Alphaeus, mentioned in the lists of the 12 disciples (Mark 2:14)
• James, the father of the disciple Judas (not Iscariot). Many people think this Judas was also known as Thaddaeus who appears in other lists of the Twelve. (Luke 6:16, John 14:22)
• James ‘the Lord’s brother’ (Gal. 1:19)
• And the James who wrote the letter might be another one altogether!

But today we remember James the son of Zebedee, brother of John, who was called to follow Jesus at the start of his ministry (Mark 1:19).

He was martyred around 44ad in Jerusalem (Acts 12:2). Some stories about him say he got to Spain and that his remains are there. Many people walk a pilgrimage route to Santiago de Compostela – Santiago being derived from the Latin for St James. There is also a church marking the place where he is supposed to have been beheaded in Jerusalem. A lot of that is contested, so today we will stick with what we know of him in the gospels and Acts.

James was one of the 3 disciples who seemed to be a kind of inner circle, along with Peter and James’ brother John. They are with Jesus when he heals Simon Peter’s mother-in-law (Mk 1:29-31); only they go in when Jairus’ daughter is healed (Mk 5:37); only they are with him at what we call the Transfiguration (Mk 9:2) when they get a glimpse of Jesus true nature and glory; they have a private word with Jesus about signs of the end (Mk 13:3-4), and they are the ones who accompany Jesus into the Garden of Gethsemane (Mk 14:33) as he wrestles in prayer, while they fall asleep.

And Jesus gives James and John a nickname – Boanerges – which is Aramaic, the language Jesus and his disciples spoke most of the time. We are told it means “sons of thunder” (Mk 3:17), which might be a reference to their temperament. For example, we know they wanted to call down fire from heaven on an inhospitable Samaritan village, which prompts Jesus to rebuke them for saying it (Luke 9:51-56).

Here in today’s gospel, we see them getting it wrong again. They have mum with them to back them up according to Matthew (although Mark doesn’t mention her). Notice that she isn't named here - in the patriarchal culture of the day, she is identified as the "mother of the sons of Zebedee". Some suggest that she was Salome, who is there at the crucifixion and the discovery of the empty tomb in Mark, but we can’t be certain.

The request their mother puts forward is that James and John have a seat at either side of Jesus in his kingdom. It’s interesting that in response Jesus addresses James and John directly, rather than their mother, presumably seeing that getting her to do the asking was either cowardice or an attempt to sway Jesus. What Jesus says is revealing for understanding this exchange.

"Can you drink the cup I am going to drink?" Jesus asks. The idea of a "cup" is significant in the Bible. In the Old Testament, drinking a cup is associated with judgment. For example:

Awake, awake!
    Rise up, Jerusalem,
you who have drunk from the hand of the Lord
    the cup of his wrath,
you who have drained to its dregs
    the goblet that makes people stagger.  (Isaiah 51:17)

Jesus seems to be alluding to the fact that he will drink the cup of judgment and condemnation through his death on the cross. It is one of the great reversals and inversions that we find in our faith, that this means that we may drink the cup of salvation of the new covenant, which we recall at the eucharist. Whether James and John understand the full implications of what he is saying or not, they say that they can also do this. Jesus then foretells that they will, as James will be martyred and John is believed to have been exiled.

Behind this conversation is a different understanding of power. Jesus is conveying to them that his kingdom, and the use of power within it, is fundamentally different to how it usually is with human beings. James and John are wanting preferential seats – close to Jesus, because they are still interpreting life as a competition. To get on, you need to get ahead, and that means making sure others are behind you and are lower in the pecking order. But, of course, that is a state of permanent anxiety, worrying that someone else might get Jesus’ ear first, or get ahead, and it means always looking over their shoulder at the competition.

Effectively Jesus says those are not the rules by which his kingdom works. Instead of a struggle for power, his kingdom is a way of service. It doesn’t see the value of someone else as a threat to one’s own value. It doesn’t see the success of another as somehow demeaning everyone else. It doesn’t see the need to put down others in order to achieve some security. Because if you place your trust in the trustworthy one, in whom there is genuine and ultimate security, then you cannot be threatened by anyone else.

Jesus models this himself. Here he talks about coming to serve. In John’s gospel (Jn 13:1-17) he famously washes his disciples’ feet, doing the work usually left to a servant or even a slave, despite being their rabbi, their leader, and their Lord. That is not the action of someone who believes in fighting their way to the top, elbowing others out of the way. But it is also not the action of someone who feels insecure or anxious about what others may think of them. Those who understand properly the true way of service of the kingdom don’t have the need to worry about those things.

More than that, Jesus is to give his life to set us free (Mt 20:28). A ransom was a payment to pay for a slave’s freedom. Apparently a few slaves would manage to get together the funds from tips, gifts, etc to meet the ransom price and buy themselves back. I have read that here are examples where a master would give a slave the money they needed, so they had the full amount to buy their freedom as a reward for years of loyal service. Their ransom was paid for them. However, for the vast majority of slaves this was unachievable.  

Jesus uses this image to convey what his death will mean for his followers. His life will "buy" freedom for all of us, enslaved to sin, guilt, shame and despair  – and to do so will be the ultimate act of service.

James must have learned his lesson well, as when the time came, he was not afraid to be identified with Jesus, the suffering servant. It seems that he didn’t seek self-preservation by fleeing. Herod was able to find him and execute him as he started persecuting the early Christians.

The death of James was a tragic loss - the first of the apostles to die - and many must have feared for what might follow. However, somehow Peter eluded capture by Herod, who later died. These events seem to have been the prompt for the mission of Paul and Barnabas to go out from Antioch across the Mediterranean, and the message spreading across the known world. James' faithfulness and willingness to follow his Lord in the way of service and self-sacrifice may well have given that early Christian community the spur and inspiration it needed to go out and change the world.

Election Reflections

The post-election analysis is now well underway by people better informed than me, but here are a few thoughts from an amateur observer about what we have just been through.

Calling a snap election was a disastrous decision for the Tories

I don't have any inside information on this, but it seems clear from multiple news sources that Rishi Sunak's decision to go for an election on July 4 took nearly everyone by surprise - including many of his own party. The only rationale that makes any sense is that he thought things might be even worse in the autumn, and he might take his opponents unawares. Unfortunately for him, it appears to have wrong-footed his own party at least as much as anyone else. 

Labour won decisively.

I have seen some rather grudging posts online about the votes cast for Labour - especially comparing to their performance under Jeremy Corbyn. Of course, the overall turnout was lower this time around so absolute vote numbers are likely to be down, and tactical voting certainly seems to have played a part.  However, we cannot ignore the fact that this time Labour managed to gain and/or retain votes where they needed to win new seats, rather than consolidating their core vote in safe Labour territory. Winning seats in Wales, despite being the party in power in the Welsh Assembly, and big gains in Scotland also played an important role.

UK general elections are decided by seats won, and recovering from a substantial defeat to an outright win in under 5 years has to be acknowledged as an extraordinary result, whatever our political persuasions. 

Speaking of Scotland

A big story north of the border will be the collapse of the SNP vote. It looks like many Scots were more keen to get rid of the UK Conservative government by voting Labour than voting SNP. Support for independence still seems quite strong, but the SNP can no longer rely on that being decisive in the way people vote for the Westminster government. Recent scandals and the fact the SNP have been in power in Holyrood for a long time probably also played into this. That result looks like putting any further moves to another independence referendum on hold for the foreseeable future.

Canny campaigning

The demise of the Conservative vote was not just down to Labour. The Liberal Democrats were careful in their campaigning to focus most of their resources on winnable seats - the majority of which were where they were polling second to a Conservative candidate. A result of 71 (and probably later today 72) seats must have seemed beyond their wildest dreams at the start of the campaign. Ed Davey's combination of comedy moments and very serious engagement with health and social care certainly seems to have struck a chord. 

On a smaller scale the Green Party succeeded in capturing all 4 seats they regarded as winnable and came second in quite a lot more. Small parties can struggle to depict themselves as electable, so this may help the Greens to establish a more significant presence in parliament

which brings us on to...

Reform and Farage

I am usually reluctant to discuss Farage - after all I believe Oscar Wilde said the only thing worse than being talked about was not being talked about. He certainly managed his public profile deftly - initially saying he wasn't standing, due to a more important election on the other side of the Atlantic, and then stepping in as candidate for Clacton and suddenly becoming leader of Reform. Presumably leadership elections aren't needed for Reform as a limited company. 

It is too simplistic to assume all Reform voters are ex-Tories (many seem to be white working class people who would have been expected to vote Labour at one time), but they clearly had an impact on the Conservative vote. 

Despite Reform candidates using racist and homophobic language and criticising Winston Churchill for fighting the Nazis, the campaign generated some momentum. There is a lot of heat in some part of the media that Reform only got 5 seats from their 4.1 million votes and came second in 98 seats. Will we now see the Daily Express suddenly acquiring an enthusiasm for a proportional voting system? 

It's probably worth noting that UKIP got 3.8 million votes, came second in 120 seats, and won 1 seat (ex-Tory Douglas Carswell in Clacton) in 2015. That would suggest that whilst there is a section of our society voting in that direction, the growth in the support is rather more limited than some headlines would imply. My own amateur hunch is that loss of trust in the system, and a feeling of being left behind or overlooked still motivates a lot of Reform votes.

With the majority they hold, I think Labour would be wise to get on with their agenda, trusting that if peoples lives improve their vote will consolidate. However, the Conservative Party might take a further lurch to the right in an attempt to woo Reform voters, which I suspect will simply deliver them into Farage's hands. That may not serve the long-term interest of democracy

What do we mean by stewardship?

I was going to write a new post on Christian stewardship, when I realised that a post I wrote about creation about 10 years ago covered some of the key points. You can read it here.

Jesus on Money and Possessions

Jesus: Money and Possessions

I have always found it a little bit difficult to say exactly when I became a Christian. There is no atheist phase of my life to report, but I know there was a short period in my life when I moved from going along to things by default to actively choosing to follow Jesus. Christ Church, Chilwell, my home parish, was a large and lively church with a big children’s work, and I had gone along with friends since about the age of 7. It was around the age of 14 or 15 that it moved from something I just did to something more. For me faith came before very much actual churchgoing, and it was the person of Jesus that captured my attention.

For a lot of people, the compelling aspects of Jesus’ story are in the tragedy and triumph of his passion, or in the compassion he shows to those in need of forgiveness, healing or deliverance from evil. Of course, those weren’t (and aren’t) unimportant to me, but they weren’t the hook that caught me.

I was attracted by the way that Jesus had a radically different set of values. He rejected materialism and greed, and he undermined those who misused and abused power. He championed the poor and was a constant reminder to the ‘haves’ about their responsibilities for the ‘have nots’. I have, of course, consistently failed to live up to his teachings on all of these questions, and yet that aspect of Jesus’ teaching continues to excite me and challenge me. He questions my spending, my saving, my giving, my consuming, my possessing and my attitude to the environment and the world around me. This aspect of Jesus has also been where I have derived some of my political instincts from (although others might arrive at different conclusions!)

It has never felt like Jesus is finger-pointing and condemning me, but he is always asking me what it means to be a Christian living in a world that is based on a very different set of ideals. How do I live in a world that is based on getting, consuming and never being content with what you have.

I want to take a look at few parts of Jesus’ story that have provided that challenge.

It was a revelation to me when I found out that Jesus had a lot more to say about money, wealth and possessions than he ever did about sex. The Gospels are littered with sayings, parables and conversations which are either directly about money and possessions, or use financial or economic images and ideas. It’s been estimated that about 1/3 of the teaching in Luke’s Gospel could be regarded in that way.

So, let’s go on a little tour of Luke to see what he records:

Setting the Scene

Even before Jesus is born, Mary is singing about the rich: “he has filled the hungry with good things and the rich he sent away empty.”  (Lk 1:53), which gives us a preview of what priorities and values are going to be the hallmark of this child’s life.

Once Jesus begins his ministry, he is challenged immediately in his temptation by the devil about his priorities (Luke 4:5-8) “if you, then, will worship me, it will all be yours.” Jesus rejects earthly power, wealth and status to be faithful to his calling. And when he gets to the synagogue, he makes it clear: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor..” (Luke 4:18) which is something he reiterates a little further on in the Beatitudes: “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of  God.” (Luke 6:20). Jesus is already generating disapproval for what he is saying – he’s rejected in Nazareth, and when he calls a tax-collector to follow him, the Pharisees are grumbling (Luke 5:30).

So we can see that in Jesus’ early statements and actions, he is pointing to a new set of priorities.

Some examples of his teaching

1. The parable of the Rich Fool (Luke 12:13-21)

OK. So you do well in this world, pile up your possessions and feel proud of yourself. Then what? In this passage, God calls a rich man who builds bigger barns a fool, as his stockpile will be worth nothing to him when he dies.

Jesus goes on to say that we should not be anxious about our material needs (12:22-31), but store up treasure in heaven (Luke 12:32-34) - in other words sharing the Gospel and putting his teaching into practise. As he says in a verse that sums up much of what we find in the rest of Luke's gospel, “for where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.”

2. Money is like a rival God. (Luke 16:13)

When people talk about idols, they sometimes mean statues in temples. More often in our own culture, people are being referred to – ‘pop idol’ and ‘fashion icon’ are both examples of a religious word being used to describe someone in the public eye.

Of course, in the world we live in, virtually everything seems to be decided by money and many people see the acquisition of money as their only purpose in life. Election promises are usually couched in how much better-off we will be - meaning financially, not well-being or contentment. 

In contrast, Jesus is clear that the idol we should really be concerned about is in our pocket. This is summed up in Luke 16:13, where Jesus says “You cannot serve God and money”. It’s worth noting that the word “money” in many English translations of the Bible is actually a translation of the word “mammon” in the original.  It is thought that this actually means material possessions and wealth. Jesus asks his followers to choose which will be their master (Lord, kyrios) – God or wealth.

3) Jesus Wants To Set People Free From Mammon

It may seem a contradiction, but in a world so sold out to money, many people wish they could escape. Some have a hankering to leave what used to be called the rat race and do something else; some wish they could just drop out, whilst others want to find a way of being content. The problem is that people who don't know God have nothing else to trust but material possessions, yet Mammon is not a kind master.

Luke shows us examples of how people respond to the choice Jesus presents us with - whether God or Mammon will be their master.

First, the rich young man (Luke 18:18-30). He obviously has a hunger for something else. “good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”. He is clearly very devout and religious, even by the standards of his day – keeping the commandments. But when Jesus asks him to sell all he has, give it to the poor and follow him, he couldn't let go of his possessions. Although it offered treasure in heaven and the freedom of knowing Jesus, he turned away, sad. Mammon had too tight a grip.

We can contrast this with the encounter Jesus has with Zacchaeus (Lk 19:1-10). He’s not just any old tax-collector, he’s a chief tax-collector. Tax collectors had a reputation for extortion. They took the money the Romans demanded, and also took a cut for themselves. John the Baptist hints at that back in chapter 3 when tax collectors come to be baptised. “Teacher, what shall we do?” And he said to them “Collect no more than you are authorised to do.” (Luke 3:12-13). Here, Jesus breaks into Zacchaeus’ life by inviting himself round. He accepts his hospitality and takes him seriously. The greedy tax-collector sees a new chance in Jesus, and his attitude to money (mammon) is transformed.

Finally, the story of the poor widow's offering (Lk 21:1-4). It’s important to remember, this woman would almost certainly have already given her tithe. This is a freewill offering. But the point is that out of her devotion and commitment to God, she freely gives all she has. Jesus points to the value of that, over and above those who can comfortably give much bigger sums, without making the same personal sacrifice. He can see that she has not chosen Mammon.

Out of all the gospels, Luke particularly highlights these issues. Following Jesus is not just a theoretical exercise, or just about whether we turn up for certain religious rituals. It’s about a change of priorities. The Bible is clear that we are stewards, not owners of this world. We are accountable for how we use the resources at our disposal. We have received much from our generous God, and that comes to fruition when it inspires us to generosity too.

 

Uniforms and Dressing Up

Anyone who knows me at all will be well aware that I have never been a great fan of dressing up. I never feel very comfortable wearing a suit, which may be due to me having to wear school uniform throughout my time at secondary school. Back then in the 70s, all my friends at the local school were free from such dress codes! That's why I have always found it rather ironic that I ended up with a calling and a role that required me to wear various ecclesiastical garments in order to officiate at public services of worship in the Church of England.

Since theological college days, I have frequently met people who got very excited about the designs of their stoles, cottas, chasubles and such like - terminology that I am sure mystifies anyone outside the church community (and many within it!) My own attitude has always been that the uniform comes with the role, and therefore being ordained in the C of E carries with it an expectation to wear it (there is some flexibility these days) In a previous role I visited a lot of churches, and it only seemed courteous to wear whatever they expected me to wear.

There is, however, one exception to this rule, and here it is:

Last Sunday was Pentecost Sunday, when churches that use colours wear red. Each year since Debbie died, it has given me an opportunity to wear one her stoles that I kept. My first Sunday back after her funeral was Pentecost, and I chose to wear it then, and I have done on that day ever since. It was made for Debbie and given to her just before she was ordained deacon in 1990, and it became more significant when she wore it 30 years ago when she was in the first cohort of women to be ordained priest. We had moved from Southwell Diocese just after Easter that year, so she missed the big ordination of women candidates in April 94 in Coventry Cathedral. However, an extra service was arranged for her on June 11 at All Saints' Church, Leamington Spa, along with another colleague who had also missed out . Far from being a disappointment, I know Debs found it a very special moment. With the 30th anniversary of the first ordinations of women being marked this year, I was always going to wear it on Sunday.

Debbie in 1994 - with baby due in about 2 months!

Howay The Lasses, Saturday 7 October at 7.30pm

 

Next up at St Nicholas' are Howay The Lasses on Saturday 7 October at 7.30pm. Telling and celebrating the achievements of amazing women of the North East of England in song, this talented group will give us a musical treat of an evening.

Tickets are £15 using the link below.

Parables Are Fiction

OK - I deliberately put it that way in a recent sermon to get people's attention. We have been looking at parables recently, which are often misunderstood - especially when the parable itself is expressed in a way that was designed to be provocative. So it is worthwhile reviewing what a parable actually is:

1. They are fiction, or perhaps less provocatively, they are a construct. When Jesus tells a parable, he isn’t reporting an event; he is telling a story. The characters and situations he describes may well have rung very true with his listeners – as they do today. People may recognise the type of person he’s depicting, but the form of parable we have is a construct. 
2. Jesus uses items and situations that are familiar to his audience – agriculture, keeping flocks, family disputes, a mugging. He features characters such as tax collectors, shepherds and farmers – to convey his point. He may well be drawing on actual events and encounters (what good author doesn't?), but the parable as delivered is not intended to be received as a report.
3. We have little or no back story, and we don't find out what happened next. We are not told whether the jealous brother joined the party at the end of the Prodigal Son account, because the parable is designed to leave the hearer with questions to reflect on.
4. Parables are not intended to be taken literally –  financial debt is used as a way of picturing forgiveness of sins, for example.
5. They often have a sting in the tail designed to leave the audience with something to think about: The parable of the good Samaritan ends with a question as to which person showed the true qualities of a neighbour. Jesus asks this fully aware of the hostility and suspicion between Jews and Samaritans, which is reported elsewhere. It forces a reply “…the one who showed him kindness” which suggests that even saying "the Samaritan" was a bit too much for the respondent. Likewise in the Parable of the Talents, we want to be with the underdog, but it's the man with 1 talent who gets the hard time! It forces us to ask questions as to what is going on and what does it mean.
6. Parables are reported as being delivered in a specific context (although Jesus probably reused material numerous times as he travelled around). There is sometimes a question that leads in, such as who is my neighbour? Sometimes Jesus has an audience in mind, such as the elite turning up their noses at him spending time with people seen as sinners and outcasts.

With all parables, Jesus is not directly reporting an actual event; he is inviting us to imagine a situation, be challenged by it, and let it evoke a response. It is a much more creative method of teaching than we sometimes appreciate, and parables are designed to leave us with more thinking and imagining to do. The real question is how does the telling and hearing of them change us - that is what they were designed for.