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Friday, 15 May 2020

not hollow

A videoed version of this sermon-reflection is available on YouTube


SERMON PREACHED IN AN UPPER ROOM
TO A COMPUTER, AN INTERNET 
AND A BIRD OR TWO
SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER (May 17th) 2020


READINGS

Acts 17:22-31
Psalm 66:8-20
1 Pet 3:13-22
John 14:15-21


In our gospel-passage today John refers to the commandments of Jesus. The commandments that Jesus gives are in a sense few and far between. He wasn’t big on “do’s” and “don’ts.” Nevertheless, John’s writing makes it clear that by “commandments,” Jesus is incorporating all that he is, all that he has taught his listeners, all that he has been for his listeners. More than once Jesus has emphasized the need for his followers to be faithful to his word, and in John’s hand Jesus himself is Word. Jesus now for the first time names the Paraclete-Spirit in that strange way: advocate, helper, guide and much more, all wrapped up in a strange title and strange new experience of the trinity of God, whose task is to be Christ within and around us. It is safe then to say that to “keep the commandments of Jesus” is, by the help of this Paraclete-Spirit who is Holiness, and to whom from now Jesus begins to refer frequently, to “keep the commandments of Jesus” is to be immersed in and embody all that Jesus is and teaches. The Holiness of the Spirit making the Holiness of Jesus present to us. In his writings, Paul uses the phrase “Christ and him crucified” to mean something similar. The life, teachings, behaviour, death, resurrection and future judgement are all incorporated into these phrases: Jesus, and all he is: Son of God.
When speaking of the doctrine of salvation I will often refer to the work of the Cross in universalist” terms, the salvation-work of God-in-Christ moving onwards until the number of those unwilling freely to accept God’s love is zero. But that is not to relativize all religions and religious viewpoints, as if behind every viewpoint there is some sort of unity of which all faiths are a weak replica. Nor is it to reduce Jesus to a one-amongst-many holy man and moral teacher. Paul, at least in Luke’s rendition of him in the Aeropagus address, which I suspect is close indeed to Paul, Paul is able to associate the God of the Cross with the God of countless faiths. But this is not relativism: “all religions lead to God so pick and choose to suit.” No: God, in Christ, leads to God. But God in Christ will honour and reach out to every being who prays, seeks, longs for the love-touch of the divine.
As Jesus promises the coming Advocate-Paraclete-Spirit he makes it clear that the insight that comes by faith in Jesus and the commandments of Jesus, faith in the whole being and teaching of Jesus, is prerequisite to the experience of God’s pneuma, God’s Spirit. That Spirit trans-forms, electrifies our own spiritual lives, re-forms us in what theologian Jürgen Moltmann might call “cruci-form” shape. She reforms us with the hope-filled, love-filled, joy-filled, compassion- and justice-filled essence of God, reforms us in the likeness of Christ, the likeness and holiness of God-for-us. The Orthodox speak of divination, and if I understand that remotely aright it is that slow Spirit-filled transformation into the image of God for which we were originally created.
The Paraclete-Spirit also teaches us to pray. She can turn empty recitations and incantations into the language of heaven, if we let her. By this I do not refer to the phenomenon know as glossolalia or “speaking in tongues.” That too can either be an empty incantation or an offering of prayer. Only the tuning – we might even say “atunement” – of the praying person’s heart can decide that. Am I open to the cruciform Spirit of God as I read ancient prayers? Am I open to the cruciform Spirit of God as I speak or sing in tongues? Am I open to the cruciform Spirit of God as I stutter my heartache?
God knows my prayer life is impoverished enough. I find many ways to block out the promptings of God’s Spirit. Yet we can open ourselves, by the discipline that I undoubtedly lack, to that power of prayer. The psalmist gasps “Blessed be God, because God has not rejected my prayer or removed divine steadfast love from me.” The psalmist can do so because she or he is so filled with God’s Spirit that she both acknowledges her fallibility and God’s plugging of the gaps and enrichment of her spiritual life. Our best liturgies lead us on a journey from unrelatedness to God to relatedness to God, as our prayers can move from hollow incantations or meaningless gibber to Spirit-enflamed connection with God. Our lives, too, are liturgy, journeying, as we let them, from the stumblings of hollow men and women to the resuscitation of the Spirit.
So it is that Jesus declares we are not orphaned. We can choose to remain as if orphaned, alone and friendless on a tiny blimp in an infinite universe. Or we can surrender our lives to the Spirit who breathes beauty and life into that universe, beauty and life into our lives, beauty and life into the existence of the forsaken and lonely and broken individuals and peoples and even species (for God promises a new heaven and a new earth). We will celebrate the Spirit’s coming at Pentecost. But she comes and has come even before Creation, blowing through a thousand paddocks and even the paddocks of our lives, if we let her, infesting us with Jesus. Dare we let her?
Come, Holy Spirit, come. Infest us with the cruciform life of Jesus. Come, Holy Spirit, come.




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