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Friday, 7 June 2024

so help me god

 

SERMON PREACHED at St PAUL’S, ARROWTOWN,

St PETER’S, QUEENSTOWN

ORDINARY SUNDAY 10 (June 9th) 2024

 

READINGS

 

Ps 138

2 Cor 4:12 - 5:1

Mark 3:20-25

 

At the risk of doing something that I say we should never do, that is to say pinpointing or limiting God’s plans, I am prepared to say we live in apocalyptic times. For one thing the New Testament is adamant that all time after the resurrection is end time, eschatological time. That’s not quite what I mean; there’s a sense in which apocalyptic time is not quite the same as end time. Nevertheless we have all heard apocalyptic end time preachers telling us that the latest leader of this or that movement or country is the Antichrist. As I say in my first book, he says, boastfully waving a copy for all to see, When I first encountered apocalyptic Christianity I was deeply distressed that the bankcard symbol was indeed three sixes superimposed on each other, and therefore the mark of the beast. It was also jolly useful when out shopping.

But no, I am suggesting that this is just one of those apocalyptic eras that humankind has faced since long before Jesus. The earliest apocalyptic writings were in any case the book of Daniel, which although it was the last book of the canonical Hebrew scriptures to be written, was pre-Jesus, at least in any earthly sense. And as I am wont to say, there have been many apocalyptic eras ever since. The dictatorship of the emperor Nero, the rise of Black Death, and let’s not forget that western perspectives are not everything; the most devastating disaster in human toll was the 1931 Chinese flooding when four million people lost their lives. And that’s before I begin to count calamities engineered by humanity itself. While the impact of the Chernobyl disaster must include both living death and terminal death, and is therefore notionally different, it is believed to have destroyed the lives of over 7 million people.

The man who I consider to be the greatest theologian of the last 70 years, Jürgen Moltmann, certainly the single most influential figure in my quite unimportant thinking, died last week aged 98. Central to his thought was in part the realisation that since the Trinity bomb was detonated in the New Mexico desert humanity has had the potential to destroy itself and its global living space, its planet. So far we haven’t and in recent years other concerns such as global warming have rather pushed the threat of nuclear Holocaust to the back of the minds of most of us. Though in the face of escalating tension, or at least not deescalating tension, between the East and the West the memory of nuclear threat is resurfacing in our consciousness.

In a sermon at the time of my reinstatement as Dean of Waiapu, reinstatement that I took up for one Sunday only on legal and matrimonial advice, I suggested that the greatest ingredient of a new surge in apocalyptic symptoms was the enshrining of lies as truth and truth as lies. Living in Australia for many years I had come accustomed to the cynical and destructive differentiation of then Prime Minister John Howard between core promise and non core promise, and wondered what that meant for truth. But from the moment that a person, who I had never previously heard of to my amusement, rode an aesthetically horrendous golden elevator into an ostentatious lobby in 2015, the reversal of truth and falsehood has been deeply enshrined in political and social dialogue.

Years before that as a sort of hippie groupie atheist I had enshrined in my consciousness the plaintiff line of a Neil Young rejection song (the opposite of a love song): “I don't know who to trust anymore.” I guess I have been a fairly gullible person most of my life always erring on the side of trust. When dismissed from my post on the basis of lies and fabrications in 2016, before my reinstatement and my first coming to you, I had found the hardest ingredient in getting up each day to be the dark thought that I no longer trusted the institution that I had served for over 30 years (at that stage). But I chided myself severely when I realised that I was far, astronomically far from the first to suffer that experience, and that in fact I had interviewed and come to know well many victims of ecclesiastical abuse in various forms. One of the great tenets of my faith is that none of us is immune from human fallibility perpetrated either by ourselves or by others around us, either by us on others, or others on us. Still, “I don’t know who to trust anymore” is one of the most plaintive cris de cœur we encounter, a dark mantra.

Scholars have spent much ink and wasted much time trying to define what it is that Jesus meant by the sin against the Holy Spirit. Anne remembers the deep concern she had as a young teenage Christian fearing that she or someone around her might inadvertently commit this sin. It is a fascinating saying, and we can fairly safely assume that Jesus didn’t mean some sort of accidental sin that we might have committed and not known about, and indeed in our rites of confession we even say that the sins which we commit deliberately are placed into God’s hands for forgiveness. The context of the saying makes it clear that some deeply destructive antagonism to the love-purposes of God is intended, and indeed in some of my own writings I have suggested that this unimaginable sin is an impossible possibility, and neither more nor less than Jesus’ warning that we do need to keep a fairly stern eye on navigational beacons through life.

I do want to suggest though that turning truth into lies and lies into truth comes very close to the essence of unforgivable sin. The predatory actions of clergy, but not only clergy, preying upon and destroying the lives of people in their care comes very close indeed to unforgivable sin. The institutional conversion of truth into lies, and lies into truth, the pillorying of incontrovertible truth as “fake news,” so shifts the boundaries of decency and society’s navigational aids that we are left with utter chaos and despair. Trust is dismantled and along with trust: hope, light, justice, even love, are turned to dust.

We live then in apocalyptic times. Not necessarily the apocalyptic time, though possibly that too. For the first 30 or so years of my preaching apocalyptic remained a distant intellectual concept. I suggest that from the time of that deeply anti aesthetic ride on an elevator there has been something of a shift in our human state.

This may not be irreparable. And you and I are not going to be able to change the course of history. We are however called to ensure that our lives, by the grace and help of God reflect nothing but truth and integrity, and that remains our task no matter how small and unimportant we and our immediate world may be. And as you will note from time to time in liturgy, even that is blessed by the rider, “so help me God.”

So as Jesus addressed his often-bewildered disciples and other followers and spoke of the binding of a strong man, spoke of a blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, spoke of a love greater than that even of mother and brother and sisters, he was telling us something that remains important even 21 centuries later. He was telling us to hold tenaciously to the navigational beacons revealed in his life and death, his teachings, his resurrection, and what we call his coming again and will shortly acknowledge in the words of the creed.

And in this always, always we proceed imploring the help of God.

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