Destined for Salvation: Sermon Preached on 19th November 2023 (Second Sunday before Advent)

The Parable of the Talents (2013), © Andrei Mironov

Preached at Holy Cross, Seend and St Peter’s, Poulshot

Readings – 1 Thessalonians 5.1-11; Matthew 25.14-30

“For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.”

So, Jesus Christ will return like a thief in the night to judge the world, and He told a story about what that judgement would be like that ended with a poor servant of a harsh man being thrown out into the outer darkness—where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. I have to be honest, this morning’s readings make me uncomfortable, and I suspect they made most of you uncomfortable too.

Partly, I think, our discomfort come from not wanting to be like those Christians, you know, the ones who are very sure that they are going to be Jesus Christ’s personal hitmen when He returns, when they’ll happily help Him out as He casts a few wretches into the outer darkness. We’ve all met a few of them in our time. It is right that we don’t want to be like those Christians, far too certain for their own good that they have this Christianity business nailed down – and far too inclined to forget that Scripture is clear that judgement belongs to Christ and Christ alone, and not to them nor anyone else.

The Parable of the Talents (2013), © Andrei Mironov
The Parable of the Talents (2013), © Andrei Mironov

But unless we ourselves are also too certain for our own good that we have this Christianity business nailed down, we should accept that if the Gospel is worth believing, it must be capable of disturbing our comfortable certainties. If Jesus Christ is going to actually come back in glory to judge the world – and He repeatedly stated that He would – that means He’s going to come back to judge us. And we all know that we aren’t quite the lovely people we like to pretend we are for public consumption – certainly, I know that I’m not. Quite apart from that, few of us could mount a case that we have made the spectacular 100% Return on Investment from the talents God has given us achieved by the profitable servants in this morning’s Gospel. I don’t know about you, but I haven’t solved many wars, ended many famines, or brought many people to Faith.

When I hear readings like these from the Bible, at first blush I can find myself thinking that God may be a being I need to fear, but He’s hard to love, and I even wonder sometimes if want to associate myself with this Jesus Christ fellow and His tales of mistreated servants.

But let’s dig a little deeper into the readings, because there are a few points that can be easy to miss, and which are far more hopeful.

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Render unto Caesar: Sermon Preached on 22nd October 2023 (20th Sunday after Trinity)

Jan Lievens' 1629 painting of St Paul Writing to the Thessalonians; St Paul is depicted with a long white beard, and a thoughtful, almost mournful expression, holding a quill in his right hand with a ream of papyrus behind.

Preached at St Mary’s, Potterne

Readings – 1 Thessalonians 1. 1-10; Matthew 22.15-22

“Paul, Sylvanus and Timothy, to the Church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace.”

Jan Lievens' 1629 painting of St Paul Writing to the Thessalonians; St Paul is depicted with a long white beard, and a thoughtful, almost mournful expression, holding a quill in his right hand with a ream of papyrus behind.
Jan Lievens, St Paul Writing to the Thessalonians, painted 1629, now hangs in the Kunsthalle Bremen.

“Paul, Sylvanus and Timothy, to the Church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ: Grace to you and peace.” These words may not seem very significant, but it is likely that they are the earliest written in all the New Testament. St Paul dictated them in the year 50 or 51 to the Church in Thessalonica. Thessalonica remains very much a part of today’s world, the second largest city in 21st Century Greece, roughly comparable in size with Bristol. In St Paul’s time, Thessalonica was also an important city, and a wealthy one, capital of the Roman province of Macedonia.

We are all used to hearing Paul telling off Churches in his letters for backsliding from his teachings. But there is no hint at all of this in today’s reading. Instead, the Thessalonians are praised for their faith, and the power with which they have received the Holy Spirit. It also seems obvious from the way Paul congratulates his readers on turning “to God from idols”, that this church comprises one of Paul’s first big successes in converting Gentiles to faith in Christ. In particular, Paul praises the Church in Thessalonica for its endurance, persisting in the faith “in spite of persecution”.

Why might these gentile converts, in a diverse Roman provincial capital, have faced persecution? Well, their faith in Christ would have meant that they no longer participated in important local pagan cults – for example, we know Thessalonica was the stronghold of devotion to Isis. Nor would they have participated in the cult of the Emperor. None of this would have endeared them to politically and economically powerful interests. When faced with a choice between Christ and Caesar, the Thessalonians chose Christ, and perhaps this most of all is why Paul is so fulsome in his praise of them.

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Answers in Genesis?

This article first appeared in the May 2023 edition of the St John with St Mary, Devizes Parish Magazine.

Recently, the Rector put me onto a conversation on YouTube between Tom Holland, the popular historian, and Paul Kingsnorth, the environmentalist and former Newbury Bypass protestor who converted to Christianity two years ago. Kingsnorth was raised in Buckinghamshire without any particular faith, while Holland grew up attending a village church in South Wiltshire with his devoutly Anglican mother, and recently returned to churchgoing after a gap of decades. 

A 1916 American pen drawing of the snake in the Garden of Eden tempting Eve.
John H. Coates, Eve, and the Serpent, in the Garden, of Eden; REAL PEN WORK (1916). Kept in the Smithsonian Museum, Washington.

One exchange between them struck me powerfully. Both aged in their fifties, they recalled growing up with a sense that the Church was telling stories about God that nobody much believed in anymore — including the Church itself. The Church was attempting to tell a different story, a “post-Enlightenment myth” presenting itself primarily as a doer of good works and intended to appeal to the sensibilities of a rationalist age. The net result, in a memorable phrase by Holland, was “simultaneously rebarbative and dull”. 

Kingsnorth felt the Churches had produced a “version [of Christianity] designed to appeal to the masses, that didn’t really appeal to anyone.” In contrast, as he became overwhelmed by the scale of the environmental crisis and the possibility that humans had already permanently damaged the planet’s capacity to sustain them, it was some of the more visionary and mystical parts of the Bible that began drawing him, to his own initial reluctance, towards Christianity. Firstly, the visions of the end times in the Revelation seemed frighteningly plausible to him, but then he found himself particularly drawn to the creation myths in Genesis. 

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Reflection on ‘Betrayal’ for Holy Week; Wednesday 5th April 2023

Given at Christ Church, Bulkington

Matthew 26: 20-25, 36, 47-50

Betrayal provokes emotions in us that are perhaps more disturbing than those that result from any other human experience. In that light, it is perhaps understandable how Judas has, in countries with a Christian cultural background, become a synonym for a particular type of wickedness. To call someone a Judas is one of the worst things one can say about them.

It is one thing to be attacked or undermined by an enemy, a rival, or even a random stranger — but when a trusted friend turns against us, the direct impact of whatever wrong they have done to us is often eclipsed by the feelings left by an abuse of trust, friendship, and love.

Being betrayed can, understandably, leave people very bitter. For all that such bitterness might be understandable, it is also dangerous. Bitterness is an emotional and spiritual acid; it risks corroding our humanity if we allow it to fester.

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Reflection on ‘Fame’ for Holy Week: Tuesday 4th April 2023

Given at Christ Church, Worton

Matthew 21. 12-16

“Fame! — I wanna live forever.”

Seven young adults in a posed photograph, some sitting, some standing, on a promo graphic for the 1980s TV show 'Fame'. Another young character is in a box top right.
Soon, anyone old enough to remember the original Fame will pretty much have lived forever

So ran the theme tune of a popular TV drama of my youth, about a group of teenagers at a specialist high school in New York for those aiming at a career in the performing arts. The young characters wanted to be famous for their talents – as did the young actors who played them. But we live in a time when people don’t become famous necessarily for their talents or achievements, but often become famous just for being famous. The celebrity lifestyle is one that some people actively chase, indeed that some are willing to degrade themselves to achieve, drawn like a moth to the flame of being a household name.

The Gospels present Jesus as something of a celebrity, followed by crowds everywhere; sometimes, as when he overturned the money-changers’ tables, he could even carry out what we might call today a ‘PR stunt’. Yet the crowds’ attention was often exhausting to Christ; in Galilee, after a day surrounded by throngs of people clamouring to be healed and to be entertained, he would retreat into the hills, or out into the lake on a boat. Sometimes, the crowds followed him even there. As we believe that Jesus Christ was God in human form, we see something here about the character of God that is perhaps a little surprising.

One of the hallmarks of the early 21st Century has been the way that technology has eroded the distinction between public and private life – for celebrities and public figures, certainly, and also for quite ordinary people.

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Reflection on ‘Judgement’ for Holy Week; Monday 3 April 2023

A medieval church, St Mary's in Potterne, brilliantly lit in golden colour by bright evening sun.

Given at St Mary’s, Potterne

Matthew 25. 31-40

Do we want to live in a universe where Jimmy Saville got away with it?

A medieval church, St Mary's in Potterne, brilliantly lit in golden colour by bright evening sun. Some tombstones are in the churchyard, also brilliantly lit, and a few primroses are just visible
I walked over the fields on a gorgeous spring evening to this wonderful church and then gave a reflection on judgement, damnation, and one of the vilest characters ever to disgrace British public life… © Gerry Lynch, 3 April 2023.

I found myself asking this as I prepared the readings for tonight’s service. Many of us will know the famous parable of the sheep and the goats that our bible reading tonight came from. It was rather too long for this short service, so I left out the bit about what happens to the goats. I left out the bit that may be the most important for us to hear, because I didn’t want to frighten or upset anyone.

The idea of God as divine judge is frightening and upsetting. Maybe, however, that’s no bad thing. It’s a pity that Jimmy Saville wasn’t a bit more afraid of being judged by God.

The Church has in recent decades downplayed the idea of divine judgement. It wanted to be positive, to celebrate the best in humanity; it often said that judgement really wasn’t what Jesus Christ, Love incarnate, was about. People weren’t fooled. They knew this was a rewrite of what Christianity had always said. You can’t escape for too long that the Biblical record is pretty clear that Jesus did talk a lot about judgement. Worse yet, nobody seemed much interested in this rewrite, which is probably part of the story of why the churches slowly emptied. If we don’t need redeeming from our sins, then why do we need a saviour?

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Waiting Patiently: Sermon Preached on 11th December 2022 (The Third Sunday of Advent)

Preached at St Peter’s, Poulshot and St Mary’s, Potterne

Readings – James 5: 7–10; Matthew 11: 2–11

“Be patient, therefore, beloved, until the coming of the Lord.”

The other day, I tried to order one of those little plastic ice scrapers for the car from Amazon, partly so that I could be sure of getting here to take this service this morning! Given the pre-Christmas rush, I couldn’t get one to arrive before the middle of next week.

“How dare they”, I fumed inwardly to myself, “I’m an Amazon Prime member specifically so I can get deliveries of almost anything I need overnight. Just because they’re busy, and just because half the factories in China have been shut for most of this year, doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t have nearly anything I need within 24 hours!”

A snowy scene as I left St Peter’s, Poulshot, after preaching this sermon.

Patience is a virtue: but not one I have ever been much possessed of! The structure of modern society doesn’t help, with its promise that it can satisfy any of our wants almost instantaneously. Yet fulfilling most needs more significant than an ice-scraper or a case of wine demands patience, and can’t be done with a few clicks on a website.

By the time John the Baptist came along, some strands of Jewish opinion were waiting with impatient fervour for a Messiah, a religious-political leader who they believed would remove the Roman occupiers and usher in a new political order of justice and righteousness in a godly independent state.

Now, Matthew’s Gospel identified Jesus as the Messiah in its very first sentence, and it does so again in this morning’s Gospel reading. But that is something intended for those, like us, reading the story much later: in the action of the story, even Jesus’ closest followers have not worked out his true identity by this point. When, shortly afterwards, Peter does work out that Jesus is the Messiah, Jesus orders the disciples “sternly” not to tell anyone. The time was not yet ripe.

The messages that pass between John and Jesus here are interesting in that light. Firstly, John the Baptist, in prison at the hands of Herod Antipas, asks “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” So, despite the fact nothing could possibly be better news for John in those terrible circumstances than to hear that Jesus, the man he baptised in the Jordan, is the Messiah, he is prepared to wait if the time is not yet ripe for God to send it.

Another interesting thing is that Jesus doesn’t simply say that He is the Messiah. Instead, he asks John’s messengers to relay news of his miracles and says “blessed is anyone who takes no offence at me.” Jesus presents the evidence of what he is doing in the world, but respects John’s right to make up his own mind about his nature in good faith. Whether or not he accepts that Jesus is the Messiah, he will be blessed if he takes no offence Him.

There is a lot in this exchange that chimes with our experience of how God interacts with humanity in our world. The evidence of God’s existence is all around us. Maybe it is possible, in the vastness of the universe, that some lengthy sequence of random events led to the existence not only of life, but intelligent, self-aware life, with a sense of morality.

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The Power of Names

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name and you are mine.” In the Common Worship Daily Office, this verse from Isaiah 43 is recited three times on Thursdays. It was written for the community of Hebrew exiles in Babylon at a time of much fear, when some were losing faith and wondering if there could really be a single creator God. This was a silly ideal to their sensible neighbours in Babylon, to whom it was obvious there were many gods. There seems of have been growing apostasy from Judaism and assimilation into the cosmopolitan mass.

Therefore, God reminds them here that he has not forgotten them in their long exile, but remembers each individual by their name.

Names are powerful statements in Scripture. After winning an all-night wrestling bout with a mysterious angel, Jacob is renamed Israel, meaning, “I have striven with God and with humans, and have prevailed.” But the successful contest has come at a cost – Israel’s hip has been dislocated in the struggle, and he will presumably spend the rest of his life walking with a limp.

*  *  *  *  *

The walls of the Hall of Names at Yad Vashem in Jerusalem are lined with black binders, each containing hundreds of pages bearing witness to those who died in the Holocaust. Stacked neatly on shelves, they stretch along the walls of the circular chamber like the rings of an alien planet. Decades of research means that by now 4.8 million names of roughly 6 million Shoah victims are now known and memorialised in those binders. With the passage of time, the identities of most of the remaining million or so will soon be lost to history – but not to God, who remembers His children by name forever.

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