Thursday this week – May 14th was the day the church remembers St Matthias.

Judas Iscariot (remember him ?) had come to a sticky end, and the 11 remaining disciples chose a replacement.  There were two possible candiates, Joseph and Matthias.

The disciples drew lots, and Matthias was chosen.

So there were some readings to go with this part of the story of the early church, one of them being from the prophet Isaiah.

Apparently, there was a man of some status, called Shebna, who had come up short.  This is what it says about him. (The Message translation)

God is about to sack you, to throw you to the dogs. He’ll grab you by the hair, swing you round and round dizzyingly, and then let you go, sailing through the air like a ball, until you’re out of sight. Where you’ll land, nobody knows. And there you’ll die, and all the stuff you’ve collected heaped on your grave. You’ve disgraced your master’s house! You’re fired—and good riddance!

Woah! That’s harsh.

Then God chooses someone else – Eliakim – to carry on the work. It’s all there in chapter 22.

One of the other readings set for this day is from John’s Gospel chapter 15, where Jesus tells his followers that they have been chosen, and put in the world to bear fruit.

Now bearing fruit is an interesting thought.  Earlier in the chapter, Jesus had been talking about the importance of pruning a vine so that you get good grapes from it.

We’re learing the importance of this – we have two young fruit trees – and apple and a plum.  They are in their second year, and if I pay attention to the experts, I will need to prune all the fuit bearing branches this year, because that will allow the tree to put all its energy into growing strong roots and branches.  If I don’t take the fruit off this year, then the fruit I do get this year will be small, and I will be risking not having the best fruit in years to come.

It’s a hard thing to do, but necessary if I want the very best for the trees.

So my question is this – where does God’s church need pruning at this moment in time ?  I have often heard these verses about pruning applied to the life of an individual, but what about applying it to communities, and to the church in general.

In the context of the coronavirus pandemic, we (the church) are having to find new ways to meet each other – through online platforms, social media etc.  Hopefully this time of crisis is causing us to think about what is really important for the health of the church. (Returning to a growth metaphor)

What might need to be pruned for us to see new growth ?

What are the essentials that make for church ? How can they be nurtured ?




 

In the current (coronoavirus) situation, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about the nature of church, and the lessons we might learn for the future for a healthy church.

Sort of related to that, I’ve been thinking about my own (Anglican) tradition, and the mess I believe we are in, for all sorts of historical reasons, over leadership.

The New Testament has various words for gifts and roles within the early church.  The roles are – Deacon (Diaconos), Elder (Prebyteros) and Bishop or Overseer (Episkopos)

It may be that the roles of Elder and Bishop were pretty much the same thing ?  The Deacon (origin of the role in Acts chapter 6) was different and seems to be to do with meeting practical needs.

In around the 2nd Century, the word priest begins to be used for presbyter, mainly in connection with the eucharist – sharing of bread and wine as commanded by Jesus at the Last Supper.

The origin of the word priest comes from the Old Testament role, (hiereus in Greek), from which we get the word hierarchy.

My point is that churches today that use the word priest as a way of describing an ordained person, are using and Old Testament word for a role that stood between us and God.

The New Testament emphasis is on leadership, rather than on a role connected with a cultic ritual – eg sacrifice.

The Eucharist (Holy Communion) is in some ways a reinterpretation of the sacrificial system of the Old Testament, seeing Jesus death, symbolised in bread and wine, as a sacrifice. But there doesn’t seem to be anything in the New Testament that justifies a role of priest, in the same way as the Old Testament role.  To remember Jesus in bread and wine is far removed from that sacrificial system.

I am an ordained person in the church of England, and sadly the word usually used about people like me is priest.  This unfortunately only goes to perpetuate a church that is hierarchical, with an undue degree of authority and power vested in the vicar.

As far as my ordination is concerned, I have always preferred to see myself as Episkopos (overseer) or Presbyteros (elder).

The part of the episkopos word – scope – tells me it’s something to do with seeing, so Episkopos is about having an overview of what’s going on.

The prebyteros (elder) role tells me that it’s to do with experience and maturity.

You might guess by all of this that I’m in a strange place with regard to the church I find myself in!  Yet I believe for sure that this is what God called me to back in the early 90’s.  I have no regrets, but have to live with a certain amount of tension.

One way of dealing with the tension is to find voices that are outside traditional Anglican thought, and so I have a connection with the UK Anabaptist Network, where words like priest are seen for what they are – designations that belong to a pre Christian era.

I have been a part of the Anglican Church (Church of England) for around 35 years, both as a member of congregations, and as a minister (vicar).

One of the distinguishing features of churches like the Church of England is the pattern of the worship, which nearly always includes prayers of confession, a statement of belief (creed), readings from the Bible, a sermon, prayers of intercession, and often communion.

As well as Anglican Churches, Roman Catholic, Orthodox, Methodist, Lutheran and other denominations all use the same pattern, which gives rise to the description ‘Liturgical Churches.’

By the way, the word Liturgy, which is usually used to mean the structure of the worship, actually means ‘The Work of the People.’ The idea being that worship is the offering of the whole people of God.

This post is about one aspect of the Liturgy – the prayer of confession, or prayer of penitence.

A typical prayer of confession goes something like this:

It was a mistake, said Bonhoeffer to think of theology’s purpose as being the unveiling of the mystery of God. “to bring it down to the flat ordinary wisdom of experience and reason.”  Theology’s sole purpose, he said was to defend and glorify God’s mystery as mystery.

This mystery is about “Christ taking everyone who really encounters him by the shoulder, turning them round to face their fellow human beings and the world.”

A couple of things have come together in the last two days … our church ‘service’ on Zoom yesterday, and my continued reading of the biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

In the mid 1930’s Bonhoeffer was working on a book that would first be published as ‘The Cost of Discipleship’ (Later as simply Discipleship’).  In it, he describes how he sees the way that the Protestant (Lutheran) Church in Germany had a tendency to portray faith as a purely private thing. For Bonhoeffer this meant that faith had become for many Christians a refuge from obedience to yhe call of Christ, abandoning the public realm for a private sphere in which faith was all about personal salvation.

The events that propel Bonhoeffer to a call for the church to be more active in the public arena were of course the rise of Hitler, and especially the treatment of Jews.

The German title for the book was Nachfolge – Follow me, which points to Bonhoeffer’s assertion that the Christian life must be one of concrete acts, integrating private and public, inner life and outer reality, hearing and following.  There was no other way to be a Christian.

By the mid 1930’s the vast majority of Protestant Churches were part of the ‘German Christian Church’ – adhering to the policies of National Socialism, which excluded Jewish Christians from communion and worship – which in Bonhoeffer’s eyes challenged the very identity of the church as a Christian Body.

The establishment of the ‘Confessing Church,’ which stood against Hitler and Nazi rule was one way in which Bonhoeffer was to live out hs faith in the public space.  (Which in the end of course cost him his life).

Now to yesterday’s service.  Our services, conducted at the moment through ‘Zoom’ consist of a readings, prayers, possibly a hymn or song, and some time to reflect together on the Gospel passage for the day. There is no sermon, but each person can bring some thought on the passage.

One of the things that came up yesterday, which went a bit beyond the scope of the passage, was the way in which different gospels treat the same question.

So for example, Matthew’s Gospel ends with what Christians call ‘The Great Commission’ in which Jesus says to the discipes – ‘Go and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit’

This is definitely taking the Chrisain Faith out into the public arena.

By contrast, John’s Gospel has Jesus meeting with the disciples after the resurrection and saying “Peace be with you! As the Father has sent me, I am sending you.”

If we think about how the Father sent Jesus as described in John’s Gospel, it is more to do with Jesus ‘being with’ us.  There is of course the very public element of Jesus’ ministry in John’s Gospel, but there are large chunks where Jesus is talking with the disciples, and emphasising the importance of staying close to Jesus. (Remain in me).  

At its extreme, Matthew leads to a Christianity that is focussed on proselytising, making converts, even by force, as history shows.  Whereas John might lead to a quietist faith that is only concerned with nurturing the faith of the believer.

Clearly, neither Gospel is advocating either of these approaches, but we can see how at different times, and in various places, both of these approaches have held sway.

The question I have is this – we need faith that is personal but not private.  But how in today’s world, and especially with the current Covid 19 pandemic, do Christians take their faith into the public square.  One way of course is through being active in a wide range of serving roles, through food banks etc.  But while for Christians, those ways of responding would likely arise from a Christian sense of service, there are many people of other faiths responding and people of no faith who are simply acting out of a sense of common humanity.

We also see people of all faiths and none acting in the areas of justice and peace.

But is there something else that Christians might offer in the public space – something that is distinctly Christian ?

A few years ago, I heard a talk – I think it was by Ray Simpson of the Northumbria Community – about Celtic Christianty.  In the talk he describes showing a film about Celtic Christianity to church and other leaders, in this country and abroad.

Reflecting on the reception the film received, he noted that English audiences were mostly interested in practical ways they might use the new insights they had gained – “How can I use this?” – whilst European (I think especially German ?) audiences wanted to know ‘Is this true ?”

That always struck me as an interesting observation, which I have come across again in the biography of Dietrich Bonhoeffer by Charles Marsh. (Strange Glory pp 115 -118)

In 1930/31, Bonhoeffer spent the best part of a year in the USA, and his impression at the start of this period was that Americans were over concerned about practicalities, and too little about ideas for their own sake.

One of his European friends at the time writes: “We were Europeans who like to reflect before acting, while the American gave us the impression of wanting to act before they reflected.”

(By the way – that makes me think of a prominent American who seems to have difficulty with any kind of reflective thought!)

Bonhoeffer is intially critical of the lack of serious theological underpinning to the sermons that he heard, describing one influential preacher as preaching ‘A Gospel bereft of miracle … with sermons that are reduced to church remarks about newpaper events’

All of this changed for Bonhoeffer when he began to experience the life of Abyssinian Baptist Church – a black church in New York.  Through the early months of 1931, Bonhoeffer had an education into the real lives of black America, with its racism, poverty and oppression.  It was these encounters that led him to write that it was only in the black churches that he had heard powerful preaching, thrilled to joyful singing, and seen true religion.

“For most of his ministry he had traded comfortably on a notion of Christ as inacccessibly transcendent, the God-man in majesty.  Lately he had begun to dwell on Jesus as the one who wandered into distressed and lonely places to share the struggles of the poor as friend and counsellor.”

This will emerge later in Bonhoeffer’s thought as Christ going ‘incognito into the world, and outcast among outcasts, hiding himself in weakness.

His time in the USA also included times spent in the company of Christian Activists including the emerging civil rights movement.

Having arrived in America with his Lutheran foundation of ‘Sola Gratia’ – by grace alone – he reurned to Germany with the conviction that Grace is ‘God’s divine verdict requiring obedience and action.’

Today is Easter Day – a day when we are reminded of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, but for me especially of the importance of the ongoing vital neccessity of living the resurrection day by day.

Perhaps we can also experience what Bonhoeffer saw in the suffering black church of 1930’s America that seems to encompass cross and resurrection – ’emotion, intensity and feeling in the sorrowful joy of Jesus’

It’s Palm Sunday 2020

A Palm Sunday like no other.  No Palm Sunday processions. No collective worship. It’s all very strange. Ruth and Heather (our vicar and curate) have sent us through some material on an email to se in Holy Week – for which much thanks.

I think we’re (my wife Bev and I), are going to take a walk later, maybe up to the top of Robinswood Hill, and do our own procession.

Meanwhile, I have made a Palm Cross out of a strip of wrapping paper to put on our front door (One of the ideas we were given)

Latr on, I might also make a poster to say ‘This is Holy Week’

But for now I’m thinking about the Gospel reading Matthew 21 verses 1 to 11.  It tells of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem. Hundreds of years before Jesus, the prophet Zechariah had written:

“Rejoice greatly, Daughter Zion! Shout, Daughter Jerusalem! See, your king comes to you, righteous and victorious, lowly and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

And now, here is Jesus, entering Jerusalem in that exact same way. It’s not a coincidence – Jesus knew the prophets, and had clearly understood that the prophecy matched the nature of his mission.

A victorious king would normally have ridden in on a war horse.  A donkey doesn’t have the same effect.  So why a donkey ?  Because this victory parade calls for the king to be humble and lowly.

And the crowds are cheering and putting down their cloaks (here in Matthew’s Gospel it’s cloaks, not palms – maybe we should call it ‘Cloak Sunday’ ?)

They are recognising that the quailities that Jesus possesses are just what they are looking for in a leader.  I’m guessing that the people cheering Jesus are mostly drawn from his followers and they know him.

And the quality mentioned here is described as meek or humble or gentle.  How to undestand that word ?

Eugene Peterson in his tranlation of Matthew 21 uses this phrase to translate the word humble as ‘Poised and ready’.

And in the poem ‘Lucky Meek’ by Peterson there is this line – “Each cloud is meek, buffeted by winds it changes shape, but never loses being.”

(From his book of poems ‘Holy Luck)

I love that – changing shape, but never losing being.  There is a strength to this meekness. It’s not describing someone who will let you walk all over them. This meekness, this humility, is strong but always non-violent.

So how to see these few verses today in April 2020 in the midst of lock down ?

The image that comes to my mind is the neighbours on our street and across the country who on thursday at 8 o’clock in the evening were clapping and cheering our NHS workers.  NHS workers who are buffeted by what is going on, but somehow holding fast.

And not just the NHS, but others who in different ways have had to ‘change their shape’, but are still providing the services that we rely on – the ones who take away our bins, bus and train drivers, supermarket workers, farmers, food distributors, and others too many to mention.

I have just been watching Keir Starmer, the new leader of the Labout party, being interviewed on the Andrew Marr Show, and talking about the changes that must come after coronavirus – we cannot go back to ‘business as usual’.  We now know who the key workers are.  They have been ‘the last’ and now must be ‘the first’

We applaud you – we pray for you. Especially when you are argued with, shouted at, spit upon, cursed – as I know many of you are.

You may have to change your shape, the way you are working, but we pray that you will not lose your being.  Poised and ready for whatever comes next.

Amen

Thought for Passion Sunday 2020.  Ezekiel 37; Romans 8; John 11.

Hi, thanks for coming today … on this short video I’ll be thinking about change and the idea that every change can first be experienced as a loss.

When asked in an interview what was at the heart of the Christian Faith, Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury said that the possibility of change was central to Christian faith.  The reference point for this in Christianity is the resurrection – which is the most powerful demonstration that change is possible, for someone to die – properly die, and then two days later be resurrected.

But that example of change, transformation – the resurrection – could only happen because Jesus died.  You can’t have resurrection without death, and the coming two weeks, culminating in Holy week and Easter for Christians is a time when we reflect on the death and resurrection of Jesus, and what it means for us today. 

So to take this thought further I want to think about loss. The losses that are a part of our everyday lives. Some of them small, but some of them life changing.  Falling out with a friend; losing a precious possession; losing our job; getting ill; adjusting to living with disability; bereavement.  Living with the daily effects of the current coronavirus.

There are times when the things, the people, the daily things that we took for granted and that we have relied on fail us.  This is such a time.  Maybe even a time when our faith fails us.  That sounds like bad news, like defeat.  All our gods have failed us, we have no answers and no solutions. But remember the idea that I started with that every change can first be experienced as a loss.

Which is where I start to think about Good Friday – where Jesus takes things to the absolute limit.  Where he willingly goes to the cross. There are a number of ways of trying to see what the death of Jesus might mean.  One that doesn’t get talked about much is centred around the cry of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel – ‘My God, My God, why have you abandoned me.’  This is utter desolation.  The one who delighted in calling God his father now dies abandoned – total dereliction.  And it’s not a game where Jesus is secretly thinking – this is all going to be OK.  At this point in time all is lost.  Finished. Over.  And here is the mystery of the cross, and the mystery of God.

For Jesus – this absence of God has to be experienced before resurrection can come.  Maybe for us it is letting go of everything that gives us security that will open the door us to find God.  We do like to be in control – to have answers, to have certainty, and to solve problems.  It’s easy to think of God as someone who gives us the answers, solves the problems.

But then we have reduced God to just being cleverer than the cleverest person we can think of, or more powerful than the most powerful person we can think of. 

If that’s your idea of God – just let go of it.  let go of the need for answers, let go of the need to solve everything. We must all lose our lives in order to find them.

And if we can’t get our heads around the mystery that is God, we look at Jesus – because here is hope – that somehow this God who is beyond us comes to us – embodied, enfleshed.  He comes to us in Jesus, and sits with us; weeps with us; comes to set us free from whatever binds us – it might be unbelief.  It might be a belief that is too easy, too certain.  He comes to set us free from no faith to faith. From misdirected faith in a God that doesn’t exist, from small faith, from mean faith, to something more expansive, more real, more grounded.