SERMON PREACHED AT THE WAIAPU CATHEDRAL
OF ST JOHN THE EVANGELIST
NAPIER, NEW ZEALAND
SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION
SUNDAY AFTER ASCENSION
(17thy May) 2015
Readings: Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
Psalm 1
1 John 5:9-13
John 17:6-19
Some
years ago I was privileged to interview a well-respected Rabbi about his faith.
As we approached the end of the conversation I asked him about Jewish attitudes
to evangelism. While speaking for himself, he echoed the voice of not-quite-all
Judaism: why would we evangelise? Who
would wish to carry on their shoulders the burdens of our faith and our
relationship to God? A few weeks ago I was reminded of that response when I was
reading the British Chief Rabbi’s response to a similar question: “Their [Israelites’] vocation represents not a
privilege but a responsibility”,[1] and “If we live well,
becoming a blessing to others, we become witnesses to the transformative power
of the divine presence.”[2] Do we “live well,
becoming a blessing to others”?
So
Rabbi Raymond Apple described faith as a burden. Who would wish to carry this
burden? I suspect Christianity has much to learn from this attitude. I doubt if
it has ever been a temptation propagated from this traditionally liberal pulpit
to door-knock like Mormons or Jehovah’s Witnesses in the name of Cathedral
Christian outreach; I am prepared to a point to concur with that avoidance. My
observation of much door knocking and many door knockers is that, while it may
produce some bottoms on seats (and certainly the Mormons and JWs often feature
well in growth statistics) there is
often a vast credibility gap between the subject of the missionaries, some form
of salvation, and the integrity of the institutions sending them out. On the
other hand there have been many occasions on which our institution, too, has
lacked integrity, and it is no mistake that, when a few moments ago we gathered
on our knees to seek God’s forgiveness in rites of general confession, we were
“we”, not “I” (though there is a place for both).
If we take seriously the glimpse of eternity that we
have in the words we sing and the prayers we pray then there is a vast burden
of responsibility on our shoulders. The
other day the Archbishop of Canterbury delivered some weighty challenges:
The Kingdom is elusive and invisible. The proofs and promises will be
disbelieved by many. The victory offers no conclusive culmination, only a
beginning; while being a witness invites danger, leading to sacrifice and
suffering, if not death.
The power that comes [in Pentecost] is to be given away not hung onto;
Jesus was no Mugabe clinging to power. There would be no public glory or
acclaim, merely hard work and sacrifice, like most of those who serve the
church round the world today.
Lest
Justin Welby’s words be seen as hyperbole it is worth remembering that at this
time 100 million Christians are being threatened or persecuted for their faith,
not allowed to build churches, buy Bibles or obtain jobs.[3] Others, as the February martyrdom
of 21 Copts in Libya reminds us, are being executed for their belief. There has
never been a time that has not been what millennialists and apocalpticists like
to call “great persecution,” what Jesus called “the time of trial.” Nor despite
the cosiness of a New Zealand context, is there guarantee that we too could not
face persecution for our faith.
There
is no doubt that what we once easily believed is now eagerly mocked. Often we
have deserved it, with our self-satisfied grasp of what Rabbi Sacks calls
“desecrations” of God’s name. We have used the name of God in vain when we have
turned a blind eye to sexual abuse, psychological abuse, physical and fiscal
abuse in our churches and our homes. We have used the name of God in vain when
we have turned a blind eye to the suffering of individuals and groups and
species and contexts around us. Rabbi Sacks suggests “As a radio converts waves
into sound so a holy life translates God’s word into deed.”[4] I suggest we become
static when we fail to do so, or at best the sibilant sound of a poorly tuned
radio when we do so lackadaisically. To change metaphor, we fail to become the
spark of light that our pre-dawn Easter service challenged us to be. “Those who
do not believe in God have made him a liar by not believing in the
testimony that God has given concerning his Son” says John. He is potentially
referring to us.
So
we are burdened-yet-blessed by the vision of eternity that is in our language
of liturgy, word and song. We are
mockable, yes: there is endless derision directed at us in the infinite columns
of ether-print, directed at us because we cling to an Invisible Friend .
Sometimes it is overwhelming. None of it is pretty, little is repeatable. Even
so wonderful a figure as Pope Francis is, in the ether-columns, all but drowned
out by the hatred of Christianity. Our
glimpse of eternity, seen primarily in the Resurrection, and secondarily in the
subsequent 2000 years of rumouring resurrection in word and deed, is a burden.
It is a burden frankly I often feel I could do without. Yet, and I quote Justin
Welby again,
What could
be more important than the message Jesus’ followers are left to proclaim? What
can be more essential to that message than the gift of power from God; power to
liberate not dominate, to bring life not law, freedom not fear?”[5]
We are called to
be sparks of compassionate, death-defying hope and justice and liberation,
practicing individually and as a congregation acts that demonstrate that
derision is not the final word in the world.
One of
Michelangelo’s great gifts to the world was a series of captive
sculptures. “The Awakening Slave”, “The Young Slave”, “The Bearded Slave” and “The Atlas
(or Bound)” were never finished, but they show Michelangelo’s vision appearing
from unyielding stone. It is sometimes claimed Michelangelo left them trapped
to remind us of humanity’s struggle for fulfilment, liberation, completion. Our
own individual lives will be completed in our surrender to God in our dying,
but before that we are like Michelangelo’s captives, emerging from the
stone. We are challenged to be living
hints of the credibility and integrity of Jesus, hints that in Jesus, and with
the help of God’s Spirit in our lifelong surrender to Jesus, the eternal love
and compassion and justice of God can be fore-tasted, and can even break out of
the stone of our being. That’s what
Rabbi Sacks means: “we become witnesses to the transformative
power of the divine presence.” In a week we will celebrate Pentecost, that
great Feast of the coming of God’s Spirit. That coming makes transformation
possible, releases the possibilities of
Jesus in space and time so that we too can experience and witness to him and to
his resurrection. Let us pray this week
that we may be transformed by the often burdensome yet liberating Spirit of
God.
Amen.
[1]
Jonathan Sacks, To Heal a Fractured World,
66.
[2] Ibid., 67.
[3] http://abcnews.go.com/International/christian-martyrs-victims-radical-islam/story?id=9976549&singlePage=true
[4]
Sacks, Fractured World, 67.
[5]
For Justin Welby’s sermon see http://www.archbishopofcanterbury.org/articles.php/5553/archbishop-of-canterburys-ascension-day-sermon
2 comments:
Very good read Michael, a lot there, very well thought out and presented! p.s. extraordinary read, will share on fbk from fbk!
"We are called to be sparks of compassionate, death-defying hope and justice and liberation."
Perfect. Thank you.
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