Lord, I am frustrated,
I went to the garage
and the car wouldn't start.
Such a silly thing,
such a small thing,
but it knocked me off balance
all the day long.
I could give you a summary of St Paul's theology.
I could offer a fair outline of Church doctrine
and something about Aquinas, Erasmus and Calvin, too.
But of what use are all these trappings of religion
when my car won't start
and I am out of gear?
The priest who prays often in his own church, for whom it is a spiritual home, a place where he meets God, is the only one who has any chance of persuading his people to pray in their church. True devotion can only be taught by the direct method.The second factor is:
the parish church, considered not as a convenient place for Sunday worship, but as a House of Prayer, a home of the Spirit, a place set apart for the exclusive purpose of communion with God; and therefore an abiding witness to His reality, His attraction, His demand.The third is:
the formation of the praying group. I do not mean by this a hot-housy association of pious ladies, whose extreme exhibition of fervour too often tends to put everyone else off. This should be avoided at all costs. But there is surely no parish where it is quite impossible to find a few people, preferably quite simple and ordinary people, who care for their religion, and, if asked to do a bit of real spiritual work for it will respond.She was one of the spiritual giants of the earlier 20th century.
Do not bother about the past; it is past. And leave what is to come to God. The present moment is your concern. See that it is a part of the splendid orderliness of God.
The present moment is always an infallible indication of what God wants you to do now. It is possible he may only want you to be undecided. (p. 26)
We must be soaked in the Gospel. You should have a copy of at least one of the gospels in your pocket or in your bag. You can read the Penguin Four Gospels anywhere, and no one will know what you are doing. (p. 34)
Christianity is a shocking religion, although many of its adherents have managed to protect themselves from its terrible impact. Tears, an awareness of one's psychic fragility, and a deep sense of peace and joy are not the most obvious marks of believers today. Yet the shock of Christianity remains: the shock of its materialism and its particularity; the shock of its calling us to a messy and untidy intimacy. It claims that the flesh matters. It insists that history (the particularity of time and place) matters. Above all it claims that, in the end, nothing else but love matters.
An Empty Book is like an Infants Soul, in which any Thing may be Written. It is Capable of all Things, but containeth Nothing. I hav a Mind to fill this with Profitable Wonders. And since Love made you put it into my Hands I will fill it with those Truths you Love, without Knowing them: and with those Things which, if it be Possible, shall shew my Lov; To you, in Communicating most Enriching Truths; to Truth, in Exalting Her Beauties in such a Soul.
As those meats are to be avoided which tempt our stomachs beyond our hunger, so also should prudent persons decline all those spectacles, relations, theatres, loud noises and outcries, which concern us not, and are beside our natural or moral interest. Our senses should not, like petulant and wanton girls, wander into markets and theatres without just employment; but when they are sent abroad by reason, return quickly with their errand, and remain modestly at home under their guide till they be sent again.
(Langford Press, 1970, p. 60)
...the patterns of our landscape and seacoasts, the changing of our seasons and the flow of light and colour about us, that all these things show patterns of movement and characteristic rhythms. And these things in a subtle way affect our manner of living and I believe that they impress themselves on our minds in a way that will ultimately give rise to forms of musical expression.Norman continues:
Rhythm, according to Lilburn, was the key to music as it determined the 'shape and vitality of any melodic line', and 'in its larger sense of movement or flow it is in the basis of musical form'.
I have a bothy in the wood--
none knows it save the Lord, my God;
one wall an ash, the other hazel,
and a great fern makes the door.
The doorposts are made of heather,
the lintel of honeysuckle;
and wild forest all around
yields mast for well-fed swine.
This size my hut: the smallest thing,
homestead amid well-trod paths;
a woman (but blackbird clothed and seeming)
warbles sweetly from its gable.
This little sweet humble place
holds tenure of the teeming woods;
maybe you will come to see?--
but alone I like quite happy.
We know God in knowing Jesus. Jesus is the Word that was with God from all eternity, the Word that is God: Jesus. St. Paul calls Jesus "the visible image of our invisible God." (Colossians 1:15) Theologians have called Jesus our "window into God."
A young composer once came to consult Mozart on how to develop his talent.
"I would advise you to start with simple things," Mozart said. "Songs, for example."
"But you were composing symphonies when you were a child!" the man protested.
"True enough. But then I didn't have to go to anyone for advice on how to develop my talent."
Karl Barth had a dream about Mozart.For me one of the revelations of the divine in Mozart is what's going on in the background, in the "accompanying" parts - for they are never routine space filling formulae, but filled with flashes of divine inspiration.
Barth had always been piqued by the Catholicism of Mozart, and by Mozart's rejection of Protestantism. For Mozart said that "Protestantism was all in the head" and that "Protestantism did not know the meaning of the Agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi."
Barth, in his dream, was appointed to examine Mozart in theology. He wanted to make the examination as favorable as possible, and in his questions he alluded pointedly to Mozart's masses.
But Mozart did not answer a word.
I was deeply moved by Barth's account of this dream and almost wanted to write him a letter about it. The dream concerns his salvation, and Barth perhaps is striving to admit that he will be saved more by Mozart in himself than by his theology.
Each day, for years, Barth played Mozart every morning before going to work on his dogma, unconsciously seeking to awaken, perhaps, the hidden sophianic Mozart in himself, the central wisdom that comes with the divine and cosmic music and is saved by love, yes, even by eros. While the other, theological self, seemingly more concerned with love, grasps at a more stern, cerebral agape: a love that, after all, is not in our own heart but only in God and revealed only to our head.
Barth says, also significantly, that "it is a child, even a 'divine' child, who speaks in Mozart's music to us." Some, he says, considered Mozart always a child in practical affairs (but Burckhardt "earnestly took exception" to this view). At the same time, Mozart, the child prodigy, "was never allowed to be a child in the literal meaning of that word." He gave his first concert at the age of six.
Yet he was always a child "in the higher meaning of that word."
Fear not, Karl Barth! Trust in the divine mercy. Though you have grown up to become a theologian, Christ remains a child in you. Your books and mine matter less than we might think! There is in us a Mozart who will be our salvation.
near Fairlie - a town at the eastern end of the Mackenzie country - an inland sheep farming district.
Approaching Tekapo. Tussock ground with the Southern Alps in the background.
Church of the Good Shepherd, Lake Tekapo
Lake Alexandrina
Lake Pukaki, with Mt Cook on a perfectly clear day (and it's not like this everyday). Mt Cook is the triangular one in the centre, standing a bit on its own. The lake really is that blue - it's caused by small particles of stone carried in the water. Sermon preached at
OS 12: Mt 10.24-39.
24‘A disciple is not above the teacher, nor a slave above the master; 25it is enough for the disciple to be like the teacher, and the slave like the master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household!
26 ‘So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. 27What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. 28Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. 29Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. 30And even the hairs of your head are all counted. 31So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
32 ‘Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; 33but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven.
34 ‘Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword. 35For I have come to set a man against his father, and a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law; 36and one’s foes will be members of one’s own household.
37Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me; 38and whoever does not take up the cross and follow me is not worthy of me. 39Those who find their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.
Reading the bible can be a dangerous thing. Perhaps a Bible should come with safety manual; or maybe a manufacturer’s disclaimer! One of the points in that manual should be that single verses cannot be taken out of context! The problem is that because the Bible is a sacred scripture, and we hear it read in a special context in worship, that we can unthinkingly imagine that every word in it is of equal value. This approach can lead us to regarding the Bible as a collection of verses, each of which has an instruction or message for us. And these verses are somewhat like trees; we can get so preoccupied with the individual trees that we cannot see the whole forest.
Today we just heard the words of Our Lord as recorded in Matthew’s gospel, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword.” (10:34). How can we deal with that? Do we conclude that the way of Christ is not one of peace? That those who follow Jesus should carry swords? Or do we then look at other things said by Jesus, such as, “Blessed are the peace-makers”, and then say that as the Bible contains things which contradict each other that it’s either unreliable or totally untrue?
The problem comes when we think we can take every word in the Bible out of its context and that somehow there is the word of God.
Another problem is in the way we read words in a context that gives them authority. A bible carries a layer of authority because of what it is and because of the way in which we read it. An instruction manual has a sort of authority too, but if, for example, if I just bought a toaster and page one of the manual said it was only for 110 volts, and page 2 of the manual said it was only for 220 volts then I might ask myself how could I believe anything in the manual at all. (Or perhaps we could start two rival groups here – the “220 volt” group and the “110 volt” group; and each would denounce the other as being false; until perhaps one day we tried to plug the toaster into the mains to see what happens!)
And yet another problem in interpretation is how we understand words such as “you” or “we.” We hear these read out in a bible passage, and often without thinking we take them as applying to us. But it makes a difference if “you” means “the disciples”, or “a crowd”, or “the Pharisees”. Perhaps we can apply them to ourselves as well, but we need to be careful before making that jump because by interpreting the meaning of the original passage in that way we could be making some change in its meaning.
Let’s return to the gospel passage first. Actually this whole chapter of Matthew, part of which we heard from last week, is about the instructions Jesus gave to his first missionaries, the twelve disciples. If we read chapter 10 we can see the authority Jesus gave them, who they were, where they were to go, how they were to go out, some of the problems they might encounter and how they were to deal with those problems. That’s the immediate context of this passage. Instructions to the twelve disciples.
Part of the wider context is the situation in which the gospels were being written. Division had arisen between Christian and Jew. At the time Matthew’s gospel was being compiled Christians of Jewish origin were being excluded from the synagogues. To be a Christian could put you on a collision course with your family or friends.
The disciples’ mission, we are told in Matthew 10.5 was to the “lost sheep of the house of
These were all fundamentally signs of healing. They were signs that what had been broken though illness, or disease, or death, or demonic possession was to be restored—made whole. Brokenness was not part of the kingdom of heaven. Wholeness was. In fact the kingdom could be described as a kingdom of peace. The Hebrew word “shalom” carries that meaning of wholeness, more than just “peace”. Peace is not just the absence of conflict—rather it’s an active wholeness.
So, returning to this problem verse, “Do not think that I have come to bring peace to the earth; I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” and placing it in its context of instructions to the twelve disciples for their work of mission of proclaiming the good news of the coming of God’s kingdom of peace, I think we can see that this verse is not telling Christians to get out with swords and start fighting.
We can often get a clue in interpreting the gospels by looking at the parallel passages in the other gospels, and in this case Luke has a parallel. He says, “Do you think that I have come to bring peace to the earth? No, I tell you, but rather division!” (Lk 12.51). We can see that for Luke the sword is a symbol of division, rather than an instrument of war.
This also fits with the verses which follow in today’s gospel. Family members will be divided, one against the other; and Jesus sets the challenge for his followers of loving him more than family members. Remember the time in which this gospel was being compiled. Christians were being excluded from Jewish circles. To be a follower of Christ required a radical decision and could result in separation from family.
Overall the context of this chapter is about the proclamation of the
It is not that Jesus, and the message of the Kingdom, provokes violence. It is rather that his life, as an innocent and forgiving victim, and his preaching of the message of God’s kingdom, challenge the status quo and uncover the networks of power and oppression. He uncovers the violence and division which is already present.
To broaden the context now to this present age and ourselves.
We also are called to continue the mission of Jesus and to be people who proclaim the nearness of God’s kingdom. We also live in a society of deep divisions; a world much in need of good news and of healing. The instructions to the twelve disciples also can inspire us with a vision of how to live as people who proclaim the
The disciples were told as they went about their mission to “acknowledge Jesus before others.” (10.32). How can we continue that today? Who is the Jesus we acknowledge? The gospels show us Jesus who is an innocent victim, Jesus who doesn’t take revenge, Jesus who breaks the circles of violence, Jesus who forgives his murderers and persecutors and betrayers. Ultimately Jesus dies for us, and in so doing, breaks the power of death.
The decision to be a follower of Jesus is the decision to follow this way; and that calls for rejecting the way of violence and for standing against the powers of destruction. But following Jesus is yet more than that. It is more than opposing the ways of destruction and violence; it is working to transform them with love and forgiveness.
The image of beating swords into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks in the prophecies of Isaiah and Micah is a striking example of such transformation. There are movements today, for example in areas which have had high levels of militarization, for transforming former weapons into instruments of peace. An example is from
However, more important than transforming the hardware of violence, is transforming the thoughts and impulses and all that leads to violence. The hardware of violence is easy to notice; it’s something “out there”; but the inner thoughts of violence are not; they are internal and normally hidden, and so are, in a way, more dangerous. They can trip us up when we least expect it.
Transforming hidden thoughts of violence can seem impossible but we have the example of Christ, the innocent victim, who occupied the place of destruction, who overcame the power of death. The forces of violence need not frighten us. Christ has gone ahead, has drawn the sting of death and pioneered the way of salvation.
In the Anglican Church these days we have many concerns, to put it mildly! People have many fears about the future. The challenge we face, I think, is not so much about structures or decisions about boundaries, but rather how to be followers of Christ, who broke down boundaries, who called sinners to fellowship with him, who forgave his murderers, and who challenged all his followers to live by this same radical love.
And now, we prepare to gather round the altar for this meal of fellowship with our Lord and with one another, and to proclaim the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus. We remember that we follow the Son of Man, who lived the way of God’s Kingdom; a way of peace and reconciliation. We carry such wonderful good news, news which is so good that we cannot keep it to ourselves but must share it with others.
May God, whose kingdom we proclaim, be with us.
May Jesus, the healer and reconciler, lead us.
May the Holy Spirit ever inspire us to be people of the gospel of peace.
With Sisters Martha and Michaela visiting Tongdosa.
A typical East Coast scene. A fishing village with tourist facilities built on top of it.
President Lee already has the signs up advertising his hometown in the conservative belt of the southeast, near Pohang.
The mountain pass (I forgot the name) on one of the roads running westwards from the East Coast.
Over the past two weeks we’ve been hearing the various gospel accounts of the resurrection. These accounts are like witnesses, each showing us one of the ways in which the disciples came to know the risen Christ.
This morning’s gospel is often called “The Road to Emmaus”, but let’s think of it as “The Stranger on the Road”.
Who was this stranger on the road? We of course know the answer to that. We know how the story turns out and so we read it backwards as it were, as being those whose eyes have already opened. But try to imagine we are those whose eyes have not been opened. We are like those disciples on the road to Emmaus who did not recognize Jesus. Why? We can imagine that fear, ignorance and unbelief “kept their eyes from recognizing him.” But more deeply, perhaps, this shows the difficulty of ever recognizing Christ, except in brief moments. God is, for us, so often a hidden God.
So who is this stranger? Our knowledge of the end of this story tells us that of course it is Jesus. We know that he has somehow come back from death, and is here on the road. Just like old times, except that he is harder to recognis
The theologian James Allison has pointed out something so obvious that we perhaps don’t see it. This man on the road, he says, is a dead man walking. To quote from his book, Faith beyond Resentment:
“I think it very important that we don't make the separation which we are accustomed to when talking about the risen Jesus, imagining that he is alive, and for that reason, not dead. No, what is fascinating about the doctrine of the resurrection is that it is the whole human life of Jesus, including his death, which is risen. The life of God, since it is totally outside the order of human life and human death, doesn't cancel death, as if it were a sickness which is to be cured, but takes it up, assumes it. Luke offers us a vision of a risen Jesus who has not ceased to be a dead man, and who, starting from his living-out-being-a-crucified-man, teaches and empowers his disciples by his presenc
To put that in other words, Christ’s resurrection was not some cancellation of his death or an undoing of his suffering. It was not a spiritualised otherworldy experience, nor was it the act of a deus ex machina coming down out of the skies to fix everything up at the last moment. The resurrection was the transformation, and the rising to new life, of the crucified corpse of the man Jesus of Nazareth; the man who had been killed by the power of the Roman Empire for daring to say that God his Father was the ultimate authority, and for asserting the primacy of God’s kingdom over Empire and especially over the corrupt collusion of that Empire with the Templ
He was killed, and three days later, his body although still carrying its wounds was filled with life, and once again walking and talking. What did he talk about? Revenge on his persecutors? An armed rising against those who had executed him? The eternal damnation of those who killed him? Punishment for those who had betrayed him? None of thes
To borrow another key word from James Allison, the risen Christ was free from resentment. The innocent victim became the innocent victor and, totally free from resentment, he now was teaching his disciples, opening the scriptures so that they too could live with the same lack of resentment.
And what is a life free of resentment? It is a life of grace, a life which no longer needs to protect itself against the powers of death. Christ has drawn the sting of death. We no longer need erect barriers, or live in fear. How is this possible? Christ’s resurrection was nearly 2000 years ago. But what did God raise in resurrecting Christ? It was human flesh and bone, the same stuff of which we are mad
Resentment and the way of vengeance and the endless circles of violence – these are the forces of death which Christ has overcom
But let us return to that road, and the stranger walking on it. The disciples cannot recognize Christ. Their hearts are broken as they pour out their grief. They had hoped that Jesus, a mighty prophet, would have been “the one to redeem
Jesus begins to teach them, as he must have already done many times, drawing on Moses and the prophets – the books of Law and Prophecy – which were counted as the Hebrew Scriptures. But still they do not se
How can we see Christ? For if we see his body, our preconceptions of who he is and of his mission will cloud our vision. We will see not Christ, but rather our own projection of who we imagine him to b
Their projection had blinded them and left them without lif
When we cannot see that “the Christ must suffer”, and that God not only permits this, but that is it fundamentally at the heart of God, then we are blind. When we cannot accept human suffering because it seems a sign of imperfection, then we too are blind. And when we ignore the suffering of others we also are blind because we cannot see God.
And why this suffering? Surely suffering is negative and destructiv
But Cleopas and his companion are still blind. Perhaps for company, or out of friendship they invite Jesus, “Stay with us, for night is at hand.” And now sign and symbol and action bring those disciples to the realization which words and rational explanation could not do. He took bread, blessed it, broke it, and gave it to them. And then their eyes were opened.
This bread is more than just bread. It is the very life of Christ. Christ takes it, in thankfulness acknowledges God’s blessing in it, breaks it and gives it up for others. And here is the moment of recognition.
The commentary for today in the excellent website www.preachingpeace.org , uses a shocking phrase to express what is going on her
“True cognition of Jesus takes place when we as a Christian community gather round our sacred victim and acknowledge what we are doing, the symbolic ritual activity of mob cannibalism. This is the Eucharist. This is where, even as we re-enact the murder of Jesus, we are told we are forgiven. If we would do this to Jesus, we would certainly do it to others. And we do, and knowing this, we can also choose to no longer participate in processes that lead to death. We become aware that we are the Forgiven Ones. We have come under the reign of Lif
At the very heart of the Eucharist is service and self-emptying. It is Christ’s giving of himself, and his invitation to us to join him in this self-emptying. The Eucharist cannot be reduced to a private moment alone with God. It is a thanksgiving meal for the whole Christian community in which we draw strength from the presence of Christ among us, and are fed for the journey. Not just fed for our comfort, or to relieve our hunger, but fed with the bread of justice and love which drives us out into the world to proclaim the
Luke’s account of the last supper links the eating of that supper with the fulfilment of God’s kingdom. That kingdom is recognizing that God is present in this world, transforming it, overcoming injustice, and leading us as his forgiven and forgiving people, living in grace and free from resentment.
That is our Good News.
“It is true, the Lord is risen and has appeared to Simon.”
May we know the love of the Father,
the Risen Life of the Son,
and be led by the Spirit.
Amen.
My time at Canterbury finished up with a bit of a rush to get my papers completed and handed in. After that I had a few days in London. I'm now in New Zealand and am about to fly to Australia.
So what's been happening? A reunion of my 7th form class from Nayland College (as the final year at secondary school in NZ used to be called). And now I'm in Auckland about to check SSF records at the diocesan archives.
Salisbury Cathedral
With cousins Nick, Peter and Carol, and Jeannie (Peter's wife)
Carol with Gambit walking in a rather boggy heath
Hilfield Friary in Dorset
The Friary of the Divine Compassion in Plaistow, London
Brothers Donald and Arnold, two of the older ones I interviewed
Boarding a little plane from Prague to Vienna
Not a very interesting shot really
St Christopher - in the Agnes of Prague Convent
The former convent church
Some of the devotional works in the former convent
The camels arriving at the friary
The friary in the snow
Friars and postulants
There must be millions of photos of scenes like this in Prague
It was a surprise to run into someone I know from Australia at St Clement's Anglican Church in Prague. Toby is part of a youth community which has been to our NSW hermitage for programmes to reflect on community life and spirituality.
The following day, totally without problem, I travelled to London and then to Canterbury. I'm now at the friary and beginning my studies for this term. So far I've been collecting a pile of books to read - and very impressive they look - but haven't opened them yet.
