Sunday, October 04, 2015

Individual or Neighbour?

James 2.8-10, 14-17; Mark 7.24-30
Once, many years ago, I was sat in my parents’ house - where I’d lived for most of the previous seven or eight years - when a car crashed into a telephone pole on the opposite side of the road, tearing the facia board from our next-door neighbour’s house as it yanked the telephone line out of the wall. The driver sat there in shock for a moment, and then drove off. Almost immediately a man was knocking at the door. He’d seen me looking out of the window. ‘Did you manage to get the number of the car?’ he asked. ‘No,’ I replied. ‘But our neighbours across the road might have seen it because the car came to rest outside their house.’ ‘I am your neighbour from across the road!’ the man said. To my embarrassment I hadn’t recognised him. Well I was a teenager at the time, and teenagers live in their own little bubble, don’t they? But I think my lack of awareness indicates that we live in an age of individualism.

It hasn’t always been like so. Have you ever wondered why, in times past and even when every man carried a sword or a dagger, there was never any need for a police force? Our ancestors weren't nicer people than us. Instead neighbours were obliged to police one another. The inhabitants of each street or hamlet were treated not as individuals but as a group. They had to behave like a Neighbourhood Watch Scheme, only with teeth. If one of their neighbours committed an offence they had at least to report them and preferably to hand them over to the Law. Failure to do so meant a heavy fine for everyone.

Neighbours became snitches, or grasses who couldn’t be trusted to mind their own business. But people wouldn’t have thought of it in those terms then. There was no concept of keeping yourself to yourself. Everyone looked out for, and kept an eye one another. It wasn’t possible to be lonely, nor to be private.

That’s because in the past people didn't think of themselves as individuals. They thought of themselves as part of something. Above all, they tried to be true to their own family, and then to their town or community, or to the craft guild to which they belonged, or to the Church into which they had been baptised and perhaps ordained. That was their mindset.

Just imagine an open field system, without any fences, walls or hedges to separate our cultivated land from our neighbours'. If we let weeds grow in our share of the field the seeds would inevitably blow onto everyone else's land. So people looked out for another, and watched over one another, in ways that we would find intrusive.

But all of that began to change around the time of Shakespeare. Think of a play like ‘Hamlet’. One of the characters, Polonius, says, ‘This above all, to thine own self be true.’ What Polonius means is that we’ve got a right to be individuals. We don't need to fit in with the crowd.

In Shakespeare's day individualism was a shiny new concept, and regardless of whether the audience deplored it or admired it, that line from Polonius is one which continues to be quoted, ‘To your own self be true.’ Today, wrenched out of its original context, it’s certainly seen as good advice.

Fast forward then to the end of this period of change, when Jane Austen was writing Pride and Prejudice. A wealthy and important lady comes to advise the heroine, Elizabeth Bennet, not to follow the dictates of her own heart by marrying above her social station. But Elizabeth Bennet won’t listen. ‘I am only resolved.’ she says, ‘To act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness.’

The great society lady makes one final appeal to Elizabeth’s sense of duty, honor and gratitude, but Elizabeth replies, ‘Neither duty, nor honour, nor gratitude have any possible claim on me in this instance.’ She goes on to say that upsetting her neighbours, however great or good, ‘would not give me one moment's concern.’ In an era when many people were still being squeezed into arranged marriages her attitude is social dynamite, blowing apart the old conventions.

But opinion formers like William Shakespeare and Jane Austen were letting a very dangerous cat out of the bag. With this modern notion of individual freedom comes a new sense of inner turmoil, conflict and soul-searching.

As we’ve seen, in the past people had no doubt who they were, where they belonged and what they had to do. They were John and Jenny from such and such a village, they were husband and wife, parents to so many children and serfs to such and such a lord. Their identity was defined by their relationships, whereas now we’re free to ask, ‘Who am I? What do I believe? What do I want to do with my life?’ These were meaningless questions for our ancestors.

Even as the industrial revolution began breaking down the old bonds between people and forcing us all to become tiny cogs in a giant, uncaring machine, two sometimes contradictory ways emerged in which people stuck up for alternative ways of life being.

Some people, like Jane Austen and George Eliot, insisted that we all have the right to choose our own destiny, not just whom to marry but what to do with the whole of our lives. Rather than feeling compelled to go down the pit, or into the mill or work on the land like their parents before them, the champions of individualism pointed to a world of infinite possibility.

But other people championed a nostalgic and idealised version of what they believed life had been like before the age of the machine. And that spirit is still very much alive in hundreds of craft fairs and farmers’ markets. When people celebrate the virtues of small farms or small communities engaging together in traditional artisan crafts they're appealing to a more neighbourly vision of community.

So which side should Christians come down on in the endless debate between individualism and community? Our answer probably depends on whether we’d prefer to belong to a large church or a small one. I’ve been the minister of two large churches and many small ones, so I’ve seen the advantages and the disadvantages of both. 

In a large church [like this one] the singing generally goes much better and there’s usually a variety of different things going on throughout the year, or even during the week, but people often complain that they don’t really know other members of the congregation and sometimes that they've never even spoken to them.

The larger the church, the bigger this sense of anonymity grows. People can be completely lost in the vast congregation of a mega church. It's a church for the industrial age where they become tiny individual cogs wrapped up in their own personal spiritual journey. In a mega church the outputs aren't widgets, they're salvations. 'Last week we achieved five salvations. Our target this week is six.'

In a small church the very opposite is true. It’s almost impossible to be lost in the crowd. Everyone knows who you are. The singing may not be very good, but if a small church is strong and vibrant the sense of community, of sharing or solidarity, is everything. The congregation truly can become one in Christ; it’s no longer just a nice idea, it’s achievable, and then even a few people gathering together can make a big impact on their neighbourhood.

Romantics and the advocates of small churches want to get back to a vanishing age of harmony and cooperation between people living or gathering together in small communities but, for the most part, the trend has been away from community and towards individualism.

The economic squeeze of the last few years has only made this trend stronger. Small local charities - like the one I work for during the week - used to be encouraged to work together. Now we’re encouraged to justify our existence by measuring what makes us different from, or better than, our neighbours. Competition has replaced solidarity.

Even at the level of the individual person, and what’s going on inside our heads, there’s been a movement - ever since Robert Louis Stevenson wrote Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - towards understanding the way our subconscious works as an inner conflict raging within us. By inner conflict I mean the struggle to discover and set free our true inner self, the real me hidden deep inside. Sigmund Freud, the inventor of modern psychotherapy, said that each of is a house divided, because we’re all made up of a complicated and competing mixture of motives.

The writer of James is clear which side of the debate he comes down on. If he had the choice of going to a mega church where he didn’t have to mix with other people or really get to know them, or a small church where he'd soon get to know and care about everyone, he'd choose the small church every time - or t least a church which was organised into small groups. If he had the choice of going to a church where the members concentrate on their own individual spiritual journey, without doing anything practical to help people in desperate need, like refugees from wars or the victims of disasters, or joining a church where people are really concerned to help the needy, he'd go to the caring church. If he were faced with an inner conflict between selfishness and selflessness, between greed and generosity, he'd want to let God make sure that selflessness and generosity won the struggle.

He tells his readers elsewhere in this passage that we can’t pick and choose between different commandments. They all matter equally to God. But then he goes on to single out one commandment, ‘Love your neighbour as yourself,’ and calls this ‘the royal law’. What he means is that love for our neighbour sums up what God's will for us is all about. That’s an idea also found in the Jewish Talmud, which was being compiled around the same time.

In our Gospel passage Jesus encounters a Lebanese woman who is a member of the Syro-Phoenician culture, almost certainly a pagan therefore and not a follower of Judaism. He tells her at first that he can’t help her little daughter who is sick, but then he relents. After all, she too is his neighbour. Suddenly he's no longer bound by the ancient model of community where only people who belong to our group really count as neighbours. From now on his followers must treat Syrian and Afghan asylum seekers, or migrant workers from across the world, as every bit as much their neighbours as the people who live next-door, or belong to the same community, or work for the same firm, or attend the same church, or share the same faith.

Remember the man who said, ‘I am your neighbour!’ That’s what every human being in desperate need is reminding us. Followers of Jesus can’t be individuals lost in a crowded planet. Instead we have to live as though we’re all neighbours in a global village.

Friday, July 31, 2015

What does it mean to be happy? Part 2

Jeremiah 23.1-6, 2 Corinthians 12.2-10, Mark 6.30-34

The Christian approach to happiness finds it through engagement not detachment, through loving God and others as much as we love ourselves.

Like a Greek philosopher, Jeremiah sees the ideal leader as someone who should, above all, be wise and just, although he uses a very Biblical term to sum up what he’s looking for - righteousness. A righteous leader will not only be at peace within themselves, but they’ll make other people happy too. The opposite of being like this - being unwise, unjust and self obsessed - is evil. It doesn’t lead to happiness, it brings woe upon the leader. Woe is the very opposite of happiness, it’s unhappiness, and that’s what the bad leader is going to reap.

Of course, Jeremiah is thinking about kings, but his prophecy can be applied to any sort of relationship where people are called upon to to guide and inspire one another - marriage, parenthood, relationships between workers and their supervisors and managers, between congregations and their stewards and ministers, between friends. We can all bring happiness to others by being considerate and thoughtful, and that is the only way for us to find lasting happiness too. The alternative, behaving in a destructive and self obsessed way, only does harm to all concerned.

Paul says that once, in a vision, he was caught up into Paradise. But that isn't where he found the happiness he boasts of to the Corinthians. Instead, he tells us that God's power is perfected in weakness and so he will boast about the times when he was unwell, when he faced insults, hardships, persecutions and calamities, for it was then that he was able to rely solely on Jesus for any sense of contentment in life. This is stoical even by Stoic standards. Paul is content to find meaning and happiness in every moment of his life, whether good or bad, simply through knowing that he belongs to Jesus. It’s not happiness based on achievement, or wisdom, or roundedness, or a belief in oneself. It’s not about floating free, above all the troubles that might otherwise weigh him down. It’s not even happiness based on detachment from all these things that are happening to him, although it’s perhaps closer to the Buddhist way of thinking than to any of the other philosophies and ideas that I’ve mentioned. Instead, though, it’s happiness based on trust.

Interestingly, in our Gospel reading Jesus does encourage his disciples to make some time for themselves. He certainly doesn’t see work, even a vocation to be an apostle - someone commissioned by him to go out and spread his message - as the route to happiness.

Elsewhere he says we are to love others, but only as much as we love ourselves. Yet Jesus isn’t offering happiness through self discovery, or through the Stoic path of living in the moment. His instruction to the disciples to be by themselves and rest awhile comes close, like Paul’s prescription, to the Buddhist way of detachment. However, the defining hallmark of Jesus’ way to fulfilment is compassion. It is in showing compassion to others that he finds the true way to live.
The Bible’s recipe for happiness has three key ingredients, then - righteous living, trust and compassion. These are what we need to seek if we wish, in the words of the song, to ‘Be happy!’

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

What does it mean to be happy? Part 1

Ezekiel 2.1-7, 2 Corinthians 2.1-12, Mark 6.7-9

Here are some lyrics from a song that got several young people put in prison just for dancing along to it. See if you recognise what all the fuss was about.
It might seem crazy what I'm about to say;
Sunshine she's here, you can take a break,
I'm a hot air balloon that could go to space
With the air, like I don't care baby, by the way.
Bring me down, I can't nothing,
Bring me down, my level's too high,
Bring me down, I said.
Here come bad news, talking this and that, yeah,
Well, give me all you got, and don't hold it back, yeah,
Well, I should probably warn you I'll be just fine, yeah,
No offence to you, don't waste your time.
Here's why…
Can anyone tell me how that sentence is supposed to end? Why is the singer feeling lighter than air, so that even bad news can’t bring him down to earth? Let’s play the song and see if that helps to joy your memories. And, while we’re about it, see if you can spot how many Minions are dancing to the the tune!
The singer is Pharrell Williams. And here’s why he’s feeling so good. he says it’s...
Because I'm happy!
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof,
Because I'm happy!
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth,
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you,
Clap along if you feel like that's what you wanna do!
Are you happy? And, if so, what is it that makes you feel happy? Does coming to church make you happy? Or is it a chore. something you feel you’ve got to do, and happiness can wait until afterwards? And what does it mean to be really happy, anyway? Can following Jesus make us happy?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You might think that only people of faith or philosophers would be concerned about the meaning of happiness. It's not natural territory for governments, is it? And yet the government would love to know what makes people feel happy.
The paradox facing politicians is that life was pretty spartan in the 1950s. We were still recovering from a world war. Our diet was monotonous. Food was expensive. Hardly anyone owned a car. Little tiny, grainy black and white television pictures - which were only broadcast for a few hours each day - were a luxury that many people still couldn’t afford. There was virtually no central heating. And yet research has shown that people were generally happier in the 1950s than we are today.
What’s the explanation? Why hasn’t greater prosperity made people feel better off? Why, for that matter, do many wealthy people seem just as unhappy, if not more unhappy, than people who are just getting by? This is so puzzling that three years ago the government created an official well-being index, to monitor how happy people are feeling.
How to make people happy isn’t a new problem. Greek philosophers certainly considered it, and they concluded that, to feel we’re leading a good life, to be happy, we need three things. First, we need enough money and possessions to feel comfortable. Second, we need be in reasonable health. But - above all - they believed that if we want to be really happy, we need to feel wise and virtuous.
Why are people so discontented today? It can’t be that we’re worse off than we were in the 1950s. It can’t be that our health is worse. So maybe it’s the wise and virtuous bit that’s missing from our lives.
To solve the problem of happiness some people have set up new academy schools with the aim of building children’s characters, to see if they can make the children feel more wise and virtuous. Linking school with happiness might seem a totally incongruous idea. I know I couldn't wait to leave school. From an early age I was counting down the days, mainly because I loathed PE and swimming lessons. But the idea is that a happy, rounded person needs not just to be good at passing exams but to enjoy sport, music and the arts, and to learn how to be a good citizen. Maybe people used to be happier in the 1950s because that’s what schools used to do for them!
Of course, there are other competing ideas about how to be happy. One of these is that we find fulfilment and happiness through hard work, and that the most unhappy people are those who are unemployed. If you subscribe to this view, the ideal life is one where work and leisure time become completely indistinguishable because we enjoy working so much that we never want to take time off.
Success would then be measured by what we do for a living, and achievement by what we make, or how much impact we have on others and the world around us. A happy person becomes someone who never switches off - who checks their emails late at night, who wakes up dreaming about new ways of working, and who networks all the time with their friends and acquaintances to find out about new career openings and exploit new sales opportunities.
There certainly are people who say that they’re lucky enough to find fulfilment, and even happiness, in working, and some people would see the origin of this mindset in the Christian idea of a God-given vocation. But there are just as many people who have dull, routine jobs from which they derive no satisfaction and where there is little sense of achievement. And there’s also plenty of worthwhile work which isn’t properly rewarded. For some people, therefore, happiness comes from making the most of their leisure time.
So how about a refinement of this approach? Pursuing our own happiness and fulfilment through hard work and productive achievement isn’t going to work for everyone, but how about finding happiness by learning to feel good about ourselves? Almost anyone might be able to try and do that.
The argument goes like this, whatever our own values might be, whether we like doing nothing or prefer to be busy, whether we like to be surrounded by family and friends or prefer to be alone, we can find happiness simply by feeling good about ourselves and believing that we matter. Selfishness, or self-centeredness, then becomes the best way of getting the most out of life.
What we shouldn’t do, the argument continues, is throw our lives away by sacrificing our own time, and health and happiness for the sake of other people who don’t mean anything to us personally. In fact, trying to make other people happy can become a substitute for being happy ourselves. As an aphorism on the Internet puts it,'Always be yourself... unless you can be Batman!'
Of course, most of us can’t be Batman, so this kind of logic is the reason why parents are told that, unless they feel happy, and put themselves first, their children will never be happy either. It’s the reason why young people are told that they must believe in themselves if they’re going to get the best out of life. But does high self-esteem actually make people happy or does it make us self-obsessed? Does it make us self-satisfied or insecure? Is it possible to focus on our own happiness without neglecting the happiness of others?
That's why philosophers and people of faith have suggested different remedies. Stoics, for instance, believe that happiness is found by choosing how we live and, in particular, by living each moment to the full, with heightened sensitivity. And we should try to do this whether the experiences we're having are good or bad, enjoyable or painful; whether we're experiencing moments of birth or moments of death, the first flush of true love or the pangs of final separation. Life is short and every moment deserves to be appreciated if we want to lead a happy life.
The film ‘About Time’, by Richard Curtis - who wrote ‘The Vicar of Dibley’, is a modern interpretation of Stoicism. The protagonist, Tim Lake, discovers on his 21st birthday that male members of his family carry a gene which allows them to travel back in time and relive the same experiences over and over again. He goes through a day buying coffee, doing things at work, and talking to his wife. Then he goes back in time and extracts more happiness from the day - for himself and everyone else he meets - by being nicer to the girl who sold him the coffee, more thoughtful in his dealings with his colleagues and clients at work, and kinder to his wife at the end of the day. But eventually he learns this isn't really necessary. We just have to live each moment to the full the first time we experience it.
An even more ancient variant of this is Buddhism. Whereas Stoics seek ways of coping with, and remaining happy in spite of, pain and suffering, by trying to write their own script to maximise everyone's happiness, Buddhists seek happiness through a process of detachment from the world.
Detachment doesn't mean 'not caring' about events and other people - like someone watching The News on television and thinking, 'Thank goodness I'm not affected by any of that appalling suffering!' Detachment means letting go of our own craving for happiness, and our doomed attempts to preserve it when it comes along, since this will only make us selfish. Instead, it means finding true inner happiness by striving to accept life as it is and by showing compassion to others without thinking at all about our own feelings.
Contrast that with the Christian approach to happiness, which finds it through engagement not detachment, through loving God and others as much as we love ourselves. Like a good Stoic, Ezekiel is told not be afraid of anything, even of scorpions and thorns. But he isn't to be detached, or to construct his own narrative. He can't choose how to live and he isn't to listen to the wisdom of others. Happiness comes from speaking with God, doing God’s will and sharing God's word with others.
Paul says that once, in a vision, he was caught up into Paradise. But that isn't where he found the happiness he boasts of to the Corinthians. Instead, he tells us that God's power is perfected in weakness and so he will boast about the times when he was unwell, when he faced insults, hardships, persecutions and calamities, for it was then that he was able to rely solely on Jesus for any sense of contentment in life. This is stoical even by Stoic standards. Paul is content to find meaning and happiness in every moment of his life, whether good or bad, simply through knowing that he belongs to Jesus. It’s not happiness based on achievement, or wisdom, or roundedness, or a belief in oneself. It’s not about floating free, above all the troubles that might otherwise weigh him down. It’s not even happiness based on detachment from all these things that are happening to him, although it’s perhaps closer to the Buddhist way of thinking than to any of the other philosophies and ideas that I’ve mentioned. Instead, though, it’s happiness based on trust.
And that’s the sort of happiness which Jesus demands of his disciples - a willingness to find all that we need in obeying his command, in sharing his message and in trusting him whatever may happen

Thursday, April 16, 2015

Jesus and The General Election

John 20.19-25, John 20.19-25
A number of years ago someone made an official complaint about me because, on the Sunday before the general election, I preached about the election. Now admittedly, if she had a postal vote, it was a bit late to bring up the subject, but that wasn't her complaint.  She said was sick of hearing about the general election and she had come to church to get away from it.
She had to withdraw the complaint, because that's not actually a good reason for coming to church. Church shouldn't be the place where we go expecting to get away from things, it should be the place where we go to engage with things, to think and pray about what’s happening in the world, and that includes the general election. You see, church isn't a quiet space, a sort of holy grotto to which we can retreat when everything gets too much for us. Instead it's a sacred space, a special opportunity in the week for us to share our concerns, our fears, our anxieties and - yes - even our boredom and our fatigue, with God and with the rest of the Christian community.
To try to take refuge from the general election in church is to become like the first disciples, hiding behind locked doors, trying to take refuge from the uncomfortable and painful reality going on outside. But Jesus bursts through the bubble. He comes and stands among us and urges us to be at peace in the world as it is now, the world where good people get crucified but love still has the power to triumph. He breathes his Spirit upon us and he gives us a commission to go out and change the world, challenging error, telling truth to power, encouraging people towards the right paths and condemning the wrong paths that people sometimes take.
However, Thomas, one of the Twelve, wasn’t with the others when Jesus appeared on that first Eastertide, and he refused to accept this new commission unless he could see for himself that the Jesus who was now challenging him to go out and confront the world was the same Jesus who had himself confronted the authorities - and been put to death - only a few days before.
We often criticise Thomas for his lack of courage and conviction. But it seems to me that he was right to be sceptical. A sanitised Jesus, a Jesus who has been rescued from the Cross by God, or who has been magically kissed better - like a little child running to her mother for comfort after falling down - would not have the moral authority to challenge us to unlock the church doors, go out into the world and face the music. Only a Jesus who has been through the fray, and still bears the scars to prove it, would be worth following.
This Jesus was the person whom Thomas would later acknowledge to be his Lord and his God. And this same Jesus is our Lord, too. That's why Christians cannot run away from the general election, however baffling, bewildering, boring or plain annoying the competing claims of the politicians might be. And that’s why the Baptist, Methodist and URC Churches have come together to run a campaign of their own during the general election campaign, called, "Love Your neighbour: Think, pray, vote." Because thinking and praying about life is at the heart of what it means to be a Christian.
So what exactly do the Churches want us to think about? If you really are tired of the election coverage this might cheer you up, because they've got nothing to say about deficit reduction, or the NHS, or the future of the United Kingdom, or the personalities of the party leaders. Important as these things may be, the Churches have decided to focus on just four things which they would like us to think and pray about before we cast our votes.
The first is climate change and making economic growth more ‘sustainable’. It's not a popular subject at the moment. Even Natalie Bennett, the Leader of the Greens, hardly dared mention it in the first televised leaders' debate, and we've come along way since the last time David Cameron hugged a husky in a bid to turn the Conservative Party green.
When I’ve talked about climate change to house groups or in worship I’ve often been surprised to find that a lot of people are very dubious about it. The fact that the vast majority of scientists believe in global warming impresses them not a bit. So I don’t want to get into a debate with you about whether or not climate change is happening, and what is causing it. I just want to pose one question, ‘What if?’
You see, you can ask the ‘What if?’ question about anything to do with the general election. What if we borrow more money for a few years to get the economy going again, as Labour want to do? Or what if we carry on with austerity, in the hope of lightening the ship of state so that it can float off the rocks of economic stagnation all by itself, as the Conservatives want to do? What if we leave the European Union, as UKIP wants to do? Or break up the United KIngdom, as the Scottish Nationalists want to do? These are all very important questions, and to say that there is no difference between the political parties, as many people seem to want to do, requires us to ignore those questions completely.
But the really important question - the Numero Uno question - is about climate change, because if we take the wrong direction on any of those other issues it won’t be the end of the world, whereas - if unprecedented climate change is really happening, and we are causing it - the end of the world is truly nigh. So when we cast our votes, as I hope we all shall, the Churches want us to ask ourselves, ‘What have the candidates got to say about global warming and greener energy?’
The second issue that the Churches want us to think about during this election is immigration. The question they pose is this, ‘Is there really no room at the inn?’
Now I work in an area, Darnall, where there have been very high levels of immigration - first from the Yemen, then from Pakistan and Bangladesh, then from Somalia, and finally from Eastern Europe. I know, therefore, that sometimes immigration can  create problems. An area like Darnall can easily become over-burdened with new arrivals, so that its schools and medical services and housing provision can no longer cope.
In the recent waves of EU immigration there have sometimes been problems with people not knowing how they are expected to behave. And there have been people who came just to get child benefit. But for every person like that there have been many more who came to work hard - harvesting potatoes, cleaning offices or picking and packing things in warehouses - and settled in unobtrusively. Darnall has become a much more interesting and exciting place to live in as a result of all these people mixing together. Strangers, outsiders, sometimes drive through Darnall and imagine trouble. They wind up their car windows and lock the doors. But people who live in Darnall see new opportunities to learn and share. Is there really no room in the inn?
And if we leave the European Union, and all the East Europeans have to go home, are we ready to welcome back all the British emigrants who left the UK for Europe and will have to come home again? My son’s hoping to go halfway around the world to work, so if UKIP wins the general election and he isn’t able to go to some countries, my wife may not be too sorry. But before we cast our votes, the Churches want us to ask ourselves, ‘Are we really ready to say that there’s no room any more at the inn?’
The third issue which the Churches want us to think and pray about is peacemaking. The days are gone, it seems, when we had enough soldiers, planes and ships to invade someone else’s country, but do we still think we have a role to play in helping bring about peace in today’s world, especially as so many of the world’s problems seem to revolve around the relationship between Christians and Muslims, and that’s still very much an issue for us here at home, as well as for people far away? And we could also ask, do our nuclear missiles help us to maintain a fragile peace or do they undermine our credibility when we argue that other countries should manage without them?
There are some people who would argue that it’s time to pull the drawbridge up on the rest of the world and abandon our role as peacemakers. After all, it has often been a controversial role, and we’ve often done it badly. But, before we cast our votes, the Churches would like us to ask ourselves: ‘Do we have an obligation to be peacemakers, or would it be better to stop interfering?’
And the fourth and final issue which the Churches would like us to think and pray about is what they call, ‘the true story of poverty’ in our country. Now I happen to think that Church leaders sometimes wear rose coloured spectacles when they think and pray about poverty. They want us to tell the true story of poverty and how it affects people and blights communities, but I work with disadvantaged people and I know it simply isn’t true - for instance - to say that everyone who has their benefits sanctioned is being unfairly treated. Sanctioning them, or in other words ‘stopping all their benefit payments’ and forcing them to rely on food banks if necessary, might be a very blunt instrument and its impact on the rest of their family might be wrong and unfair, but the fact remains that some people do refuse to help themselves, or let anyone else help them, when it comes to looking for a job. Lots of disabled or mentally ill people have been unfairly denied benefits, and lots of young people would love a job if they could find one, but there are some able-bodied people who are determined not to work for a living, and they ought to be confronted just as much as wealthy tax dodgers need bringing to book. To deny that is to deny the true story of poverty, and - while it’s right to criticise the proliferation of food banks - church leaders ought to be careful about that.
Nevertheless, before we cast our votes, the Churches would like us to think and pray about poverty in our country, and to ask ourselves whether we want to go on living in a society where poor people bare the brunt of putting right the mistakes of the past, mistakes which they were certainly not responsible for, or whether we want to create a society where rich people have to put their hands in their pockets to help put things right. And then we need to ask ourselves what the candidates intend to do about it.
I hope I’ve said enough about the Churches’ concerns to convince you, if you weren’t already convinced, that we ought to be thinking and praying about the general election. St Paul said that we should be subject to the governing authorities, and that could be read as an excuse to stay out of politics and simply do as we’re told, as many German Christians tried to do in the 1930s. But Paul was making two assumptions. The first was that the government itself is trying to keep the peace and create a well-ordered society. In Nazi Germany, particularly after the regime got well established, the opposite was true and the government became bent on plunging the world into chaos and destruction. 
Paul’s second assumption is that we don’t have any influence over who governs us, and therefore we have no option but to do as we’re told. However, in a democracy we, the people, are the governing authority instituted by God. We, the people, are the servants of God, given the task of promoting what is good and rooting out what is bad. in a new book called ‘Who Governs Britain?’ Professor Anthony King explains that all the politicians are scared of us - the people. They daren’t campaign for what is right in case we don’t like it! That’s why the general election is something we cannot afford to ignore. We all have a God-given duty to think, pray and vote.

Saturday, March 28, 2015

Jeremiah, Jesus & The Moral Compass

Jeremiah 31.31-34
John  12.20-36
These passages tell us about two important moments in salvation history which have helped people to decide which way they ought to go. The first is the promise God made to Jeremiah, that God's People will no longer need to ask for directions but will be given their own internal satellite navigation system.
In some ways it's a bit like the colleague who told me that she has an internal sense of direction which means she never gets lost. To which I replied, 'So that' why, when we got to the fork on our way to the synod in Harrogate - this way to Spoforth, that way to Knaresborough - you instinctively knew which way to go - not! What's different about the promise made to Jeremiah is that the navigation system actually works, and also that there's nothing instinctive about it.
Jeremiah's assessment is that the People of Israel had taken a series of wrong turns in the past. They had eaten sour grapes, as Jeremiah puts it. But, as a result, it was their children teeth which were being set on edge.
The children found themselves in the same place as the traveller who asked the countryman how to get back to the town. 'Well if I wanted to go there,' he replied, I certainly wouldn't start from here.'
Jeremiah's generation was lost and didn't know which way to turn, and that was because of the mistakes of their parents. And finding their way back to God wasn't proving easy to do. The children had no moral compass, they were hopelessly lost.
So, according to Jeremiah, God's new solution is to give people an internal compass, or an internal Satnav, which will always be able to direct them onto the right path, wherever they're starting from. It's not something they can learn from their parents or their teachers, or something they can acquire by their own persistence or from experience, nor is it an innate sense that that they're born with - it's a gracious gift from God. God will put his law within them and write it on their hearts.
In our Gospel reading John portrays Jesus as facing the same dilemma. The right way to go is counter-intuitive, it doesn't make common sense. Instead, it is all about trusting in God. It means dying in order to bear fruit, hating this life in order to find everlasting life. No wonder that Jesus feels troubled and wants to be saved from death. He realises, however, that his death is - in fact - the decisive moment, his hour in the spotlight of history, to which his whole life has been leading him. He has to walk this way, the way that leads through the valley of the shadow of death, the way of the Cross, if he is to give glory to God's name.
And John emphasises, at the same time, that servants cannot expect to be greater than their master. If Jesus had to accept that being lifted up on the cross to die was his manifest destiny, what is our internal moral compass telling us to do? Where Jesus goes, there must his servants go also. Whoever serves him will therefore follow him.

The Snakes & The Cheshire Cat

Numbers 21.4-9
John  3.14-21
The passages we read today tell us about two important moments in salvation history when people have had to decide which way they ought to go. The first happens when the People of Israel are wandering in the Wilderness between Egypt and the Promised Land.
As they have been rescued from slavery and ethnic cleansing we might expect the People to be grateful. But their memories are short. There aren’t yet enough of them in the loose federation of rootless and landless tribes which gathered under Moses’ protection to be able to challenge the ancient civilizations of Edom and Canaan with their walled cities, settled governments and citizen armies. Indeed, the Bible tells us that Edom had its own kings long before Israel, and the Edomites weren’t about to have their authority challenged by this bunch of ne’er-do-wells and Johnny-come-latelies. So the People of Israel couldn’t go through Edom, they had to go round it - wandering many miles out of their way through inhospitable desert.
That’s when the some of the People started to become impatient, and to speak out against Moses and even against God. However, in those days it was clearly not a good idea to exasperate God.
The writer Garrison Keillor sums up the dangers like this, in his book “Lake Wobegone Days”: ‘In the Bible people who did wrong tended to get smote, and that at a time when God smote hard: when he smited you stayed smitten, smiting was no slap on the wrist. Mrs Tollerud illustrated this in Sunday School with a flannelgraph: a cloth-covered board on which she placed cloth figures and moved them around. Pharaoh, though decent in some ways, didn’t obey God. She took down the figure of Pharaoh the ruler and put up the figure of Pharaoh with his hands over his face. It made us think twice about striking out in new directions!’
Well, the price the People of Israel pay for challenging the hard way that God needs them to go and striking out in new directions is to be bitten by poisonous snakes. Fortunately, though, there is an antidote. If they turn back to God and start following again the direction that Moses is urging them to take, God is prepared to relent. He tells Moses to make a bronze image of one of the poisonous snakes and stick it on a pole. Anyone who looks at the image will be healed. Problem solved.
John interprets this strange story as an allegory. The snakes or serpents represent temptation. People easily complain about following God’s way - the hard and narrow way that leads to salvation. They wander off into the undergrowth and then they get bitten by temptation.
But there is a cure, a way of getting back onto the track which leads to new life and rebirth. And that is to follow the difficult but ultimately rewarding way which signposts us to the Cross - which is easily identifiable because, like the bronze serpent nailed to the pole, the Son of Man has been lifted up and nailed to the Cross to die, as a permanent reminder of the right direction of travel and - like the bronze serpent - as a remedy for sin and disobedience.
So, in John’s interpretation of the story, being enabled to make a fresh start and strike out in the right direction is inextricably linked to dying - dying to sin and disobedience with Jesus on his cross. But it is also linked inextricably to eternal life. For God does not stay angry with us. Rather he loves the world so much that he gives his only Son so that we might not perish in the end but be enabled, instead, to find life in all its fullness.

Monday, March 09, 2015

Moses, Paul and the Cheshire Cat

The passages we read today tell us about two of the most important moments in salvation history, moments of decision when God’s people had to decide which way to go. The first is the giving of the Law on Mount Sinai. We tend to think of it as a key point in the life of Moses, but he is only the Cheshire Cat in the story, if you like, the person who can tell the people which direction they should take.

And Moses is unequivocal about it. He doesn’t sit on the fence like the Cheshire Cat did, at least metaphorically anyway. he gives the people a clear set of instructions because he relays to them what he considers to be the direct word of God.

They are to have only one guiding principle in their lives, not a pantheon of different options and creeds. They are not to pretend - to themselves or to others - that they are going in one direction while taking another that leads somewhere else. They are to show an example of just stewardship of all their resources, including the people who work for them or are dependent on them. They are to care for the weak and the marginalised, show proper respect for the elderly, respect family values and the sanctity of life, and avoid an acquisitive lifestyle.

It’s not an easy path that’s offered to them here. No wonder that they were afraid and trembled. They recognised that they were not being offered an easy choice, wherein it didn’t much matter which way they took.

Paul similarly spells out stark choices to the Christians in Corinth. They can follow the way of the cross, the way of Jesus, which seems foolish to people who base their reasoning on cold, hard logic. They can, in faith, stick to this way even though there is no positive proof that it is the right way. They can choose a path which others will despise and ridicule. Or, they can take the wrong path - the path dictated by wisdom, cleverness and power. The right way, the way of Jesus, is full of stumbling blocks that trip up those who can’t suspend their disbelief in the redemptive power of self-sacrifice and suffering, or who fall by the wayside.

We live in a culture that finds the way of the cross hard to accept. It’s a culture which believes in self-fulfilment, not self-sacrifice; in reward not loss; in healing rather than suffering; in happiness rather than joy. Christianity, therefore, remains just as counter-cultural as it was when Paul first dictated his letter. The Gospel seems to be pointing down a dead-end, a cul-de-sac, whereas we believe that it has surprising twists and turns which will bring us out at the end in the presence of God.

Sunday, March 01, 2015

Abraham, Sarah, Jesus and the Cheshire Cat

Genesis 17.1-7,15-16 and Mark 8.31-38
The passages we read today tell us about important moments of decision for Abraham, Sarah and the disciples of Jesus. God invites Abraham ‘to walk before him’ and it certainly does matter which way he decides to go at this point. If Abraham and Sarah listen to God’s call their direction of travel will take them from being a minor clan chieftain and his childless wife to becoming the ancestors of a great nation. It’s a choice between lifelong obscurity and - as the Bible says - ‘everlasting’ renown.
Could that be the choice for our churches in the Aire and Calder Circuit? A choice between a daring decision to walk before God and become a new type of church for the Twenty-first Century and beyond or a safer, but less glorious decision perhaps, to fade into obscurity, before becoming - if we’re lucky - a blue plaque on the wall that says, ‘Such-and-such Methodist Church once met here,’ and - if we’re not so lucky - a carpet warehouse!
Jesus leaves his disciples in no doubt that it certainly is a decision filled with risk that does require great daring. When they come to the parting of the ways at Caesarea Philippi he challenges Peter to choose the right path. There are three choices - those who think Jesus is a reincarnation of one of the great men of history, those who think he’s just a charismatic religious teacher and those who think he is the chosen representative of God - the Messiah, the ‘anointed one’. Peter makes the right choice, but without realising what the implications will be. For, just as it had been with Abraham and Sarah, this is a decision which really does matter.
Believing that Jesus is God’s chosen representative takes his disciples down a very particular path which leads to suffering, rejection and death. Immediately he realises this, Peter regrets his choice and tries to take it back. But to turn back is to choose the human way out, not the divine path. And this is not a decision for Peter only. Jesus calls the crowd and his disciples and offers the same uncompromising choice to them. How far are we, as individuals and as a church, prepared to accept the challenge to take up our cross and follow him?
Someone once said, 'Following Jesus and the way of the cross begins with small steps. Later we'll look up and discover where he's led us.' Someone else said, 'Being a disciple means embarking on a lifelong journey of allowing Jesus' identity to gradually shape our own [identity].' And, finally, John Wesley said, 'Embrace the will of God, however painful, daily, hourly, continually. Thus only can we follow him in holiness to glory.'
'Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?' Alice asked.
`That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.
Alice didn't much care where-- but that's not an option for followers of Jesus.
It does matter which way we go, because we have somewhere to which we need to get. We want to follow Jesus to holiness in glory, and that means travelling the way of the cross. And, with the Spirit of Jesus to guide us, we're sure to get to glory if we walk for long enough and keep on going on the risky adventure that the way of the cross entails.