Phylacteries, again

 

SERMON PREACHED AT St PAUL’S, ARROWTOWN

and St PETER’S, QUEENSTOWN

31^st ORDINARY SUNDAY (November 5^th) 2023

 

 READINGS

Joshua 3: 7-17

Psalm 107: 1-7, 33-37

1 Thessalonians 2: 9-13

Matthew 23: 1-12

 

It will no doubt come as a surprise to you that I have the occasional difference of opinion – perhaps even the occasional falling out – with others of my trade. I see much that is chicanery in the realms of faith, and sadly much chicanery amongst what we might call the professionals in the realm. Not many in this diocese thank goodness: there’s something rather attractive in being amongst professionals who choose, by and large, to work in the most far-flung of western contexts. While I’m in now with you in perhaps the most stunning context, certainly in New Zealand, this is not a diocese that clergy queue up to come to.

But that’s another story, and I have to say one of the great graces of my life-journey has been being able to come amongst you not once but twice. And I hasten to add this is not a “leaving sermon,” in case it's starting to sound like one.

I have been fascinated though by the propensity of professional Christians, mainly clergy, to grasp their phylacteries. I said that in public recently and received a torrent of abuse from one or two who thought that this was a personal attack. One person decided I was being antisemitic – a little surprising since the phylactery metaphor came originally from Jesus the Jew! Perhaps my critic don’t know that? 

Most clergy are reasonably aware, though, that Jesus was Jewish. But the phylactery metaphor applies in other ways. I remember in Australia, where clergy receive a quite generous car purchase and replacement allowance, one parishioner muttering that their newly ordained priest would now go out and purchase a flash car because he was ordained. He didn’t, holding on to his aged Kombi for many years. It wasn’t me, though later I had a Kombi too. Flash cars, though I lust after them, have never been my hallmark, as you may have noticed!

Bishop Kelvin, commenting on this passage, noted that the titles and ceremonial and especially the ornate episcopal chair, the cathedra which gives its name to the cathedral, were the most excruciating aspect of his episcopacy. As I hinted in response, while many if not most bishops I have known, especially Steve and Kelvin, have been wonderfully humble men and women, there have been one or two who exhibited conspicuous delight in the badges of their office. Lesser clergy, too. Phylacteries are a common disease, sadly.

They were in Jesus’ time, too.  (Yes all time is his, as we will say on Easter Morn, but that’s not what I mean). They were originally a symbol to the wearer of the centrality of God’s Law in their lives. But symbols can develop a dark life of their own. The first bishop of this diocese seemed to take great delight in staying in what Jesus might call palaces, the mansions of the rich in Southland and Otago. Bishop Nevill generally displayed little interest in people of a lower social or socio-economic class, except on occasions when they were awed by the majesty not of God (of which we will soon sing), but of  his and other bishops’ finery.

But we must all be careful of phylacteries. In what way do I advertise what might be my advantages in life? What do I parade in the market place? How often and where do I seize the best seats, metaphorically and sometimes literally? To what extent do I actually or in appearance parade my self-importance (though I hope by now that I have learned that it would be a lie to do so!)? Give that I am often representative of the more ceremonial end of Christianity do I by my liturgical drag or titles or roles slip into the belief that I’m important? 

There’s more than one kind of phylactery. Do I imagine I am more intellectual or more pious or more “saved” than those around me? God forbid, as St. Paul often said, though if I ever do slip that way I soon find God or an agent of God slapping me down.

In the end, as Christ-bearers (a word I prefer to the much abused word and nickname “Christian”), in the end we are called to be just that. No more, no less. Just a bunch of people who have been called into connection with God through Christ. That’s what it means to be, in the words of 1 Peter, “a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession, to proclaim the virtues of him who called you out of darkness.” Just a bunch of people called to pray, to intercede, above all to give thanks to the God who draws all history, all creation, all people out of nothingness into eternal light and life and love. No phylacteries, just love, and acts of loving service.

May God help us to be that people.