Eat what you're given

This was my sermon today, on Ephesians 5, 15-20 and John 6, 51-58.

It is a strange but nice co-incidence that as we are adapting to the imposition of a different way of taking communion, the readings this week give us the opportunity to reflect on drinking wine, and on the theology of communion as a whole!
The beginning of Ephesians chapter 5 reminded readers that they should be imitators of God (Ephesians 5.1) and offered practical advice on living in the body – the church. This passage is in the same vein. It offers two contrasts – between foolish and wise behaviour (vv. 15-17) and between being filled with wine and filled with the Spirit (v. 18).
For the Ephesians as for us Wisdom contrasts with the foolishness of the godless environment that is the world around us. Wisdom here is more about a whole attitude to life in Christ than an abstract concept or intellectual achievement. The core value of wisdom is that Christians should not wander aimlessly through life or behave as if they were in a moral stupor. There was for the Ephesian church a constant danger that Christians might be fooled by the attractions of the present age. The times required people to be cautious.
In one sense, nothing has changed. I wonder how much we differ from our neighbours who are not sitting next to us this morning. Do our lives from Monday to Friday reflect what we do and say on Sunday? I suspect they do, but we might not even be aware of why this is. There was in the early church a belief that evils increased as the end of the world neared –Mark 13 is an example of this. Wisdom was to be gained and accessed through discerning God's will (v. 17). The church is the principal means of carrying out this task of discernment. Yes, the Spirit speaks to individuals, and yes, the Bible or a hymn or poem can inspire the individual, but the Church (with a capital C to show I mean the universal church, not just our church) is the filter and sounding board and thinking space for these things.
Today there is also a feeling that things are going off the rails. Fed by media stories of crime and violence, of assisted suicide and of economic meltdown, it is sometimes hard for us to avoid thinking that there is an increase in evil in our world. Even in the Anglican Church things are looking a bit shaky; yet I am confident that in the Church of England at least, the corporate discernment of God’s will is still underway.
Paul’s second contrast in this passage is about alcohol, and about self-control, but the text continues to address the difference in moral attitude between the Christian and the non-Christian. Being filled by wine and being filled by the Spirit might both lead to singing, but there was and is a difference – in the first instance the alcohol is in control, in the second, it is the Spirit, when the Christian allows him control of their life. We have a glimpse here of the worship of early Christian communities who continued to sing the psalms of their Jewish heritage and added hymns and spiritual songs. There is no reason to suppose that the purpose of these verses was to address problems relating to the common meal of the community. They are making a pointed contrast rather than a targeted point. The note of praise and worship at the end of this passage is an important counter-balance to a view of wisdom that is worthy and dull. The wisdom that threw a party in the passage from Proverbs is the same wisdom that discerns the will of God.
Our second reading however is of course much more directly about communion. In the readings from John 6 set over the last two weeks, we have seen the unfolding of Jesus' understanding of himself as the bread of life, not just in a symbolic way, but in the flesh. We have also seen the desire of the crowd to keep the discourse about real (in their terms) bread so that Jesus would repeat his sign of feeding them. Now they were discussing how anyone could give their flesh to be eaten (v. 52). It was probably a heated discussion. What did Jesus mean exactly? Was this cannibalism – a charge frequently levelled against early Christianity? As people familiar with the Lord's Supper, Communion or Eucharist, we may be so familiar with the idea of eating the body of Christ that we find it difficult to understand how offensive this might sound to others. We can also become acutely aware of how entrenched our attitudes can become, to things like the cup, the nature of the elements and so on, or even about whether or not we should partake. This is one of my favourite Bible passages, and I would not be exaggerating to say that studying it totally transformed the way I understand and experience the grace of God in the Eucharist. However, I will try in what follows to avoid too much self-indulgence.
In John 6, verse 51, Jesus re-emphasises his claim to be the bread from heaven. Everyday bread has life-giving properties and the only way to get that nourishment is to eat the bread. In the same way, the only way to receive the life-giving potential of the bread from heaven was to eat. Does that mean we can’t truly be Christians unless we are communicants? That’s a tough question, and I would like to answer it gently and deliberately so as to challenge, but not exclude.
First a bit of background; John’s gospel dos not have a last supper account, as the others do, from whence we derive a lot of our communion theology, along with 1 Corinthians 11. Chapter 6 then is the main source of Eucharistic theology for this gospel. In it Jesus clearly identifies himself with the saving provision of God in Israel’s history – the manna from heaven. He also prophetically identifies himself with the elements of the Passover meal that tell of Israel’s deliverance. Thus far, we are in the same territory as the other gospels. John 6 is a little bit more mystic, yet we should always read it in the light of the other three.
Read in isolation, and without care, it can appear that this passage indicates that salvation is achieved through the consumption of bread and wine as body and blood at communion. That would be the conclusion of some scholars who understand this text to be a later insertion to justify and explain the origins of the Eucharist in the early church. However, we need to return to that concept of corporate discernment of God’s will; as a whole, the message of Scripture is not that salvation, our identity as Christians, or even our capacity for relationship with God, is a matter of eating and drinking bread and wine. It does say that we are saved by grace through faith in Jesus’ sacrificial death and glorious resurrection. Church practice entails that this faith is expressed by, but not entirely defined by, our participation in the Lord’s Supper.
Having said that, there can be no doubt that the eating of Christ’s body and the drinking of his blood are central to Christian faith and practice. In Church history there has always been a graduating tendency whereby the child, the newcomer or the new convert are gradually drawn into the Eucharistic fellowship. That is not to say (even if the impression is sometimes strongly given) that the catechumens – to give them their traditional name – are in any way less of a Christian than someone who’s been taking communion for decades. Let us remember that at the Last Supper, the denier and the betrayer shared the bread and the cup. It is therefore dangerous to presume that we know who should and shouldn’t take communion. Children, occasional attenders or people who for whatever personal reasons have decided not to take communion, are not a lesser part of the church.

What I think I’m trying to say then, in answer to my own question of a few minutes ago, is that not taking communion does not exclude you from being a Christian. However, being a Christian is about a journey together, towards God in Christ, and we as a church express that journey in our worship by partaking of the body and blood of Christ in the communion. We understand communion in the Anglican tradition as being among other things a means of meeting with God and receiving his grace, a means of reviving and encouraging our faith, and ultimately as an act of worship we were commanded by our Lord to do, in anticipation of his return. The Eucharist does define us, but I hope never in an exclusive way. So I hope to have fulfilled my promise not to exclude anyone; here comes the challenge.
John Wesley, when he was an Anglican minister, called the Eucharist “a converting ordinance”. His heart was strangely warmed by the exposition of Scripture, as I expect ours are too. Yet my heart is warmed by communion. I am so blessed to be your priest because I get to preside here – we all celebrate communion, let’s remember, I am just the president. My heart is warmed because it is where I meet with God, it is a big part of how my faith grows and is sustained, and mostly because I therefore know how much God loves me even though I do not deserve or understand why he should. Let’s be clear that you do not have to fully understand how communion works to be part of it; if that were true, none of us would be able to take the bread and the wine. Neither do you have to be perfect or even nearly so to take the bread and the wine.

I am blessed by those of us who come but do not partake; I just want to say that if ever anyone wishes to change their status from non-communicant to communicant, I would be equally blessed;
“Live not as unwise, but as wise, making the most of every opportunity …”

Wild boys never chose this way

We're back from France again. Went to the same place as last year, so I won't bore you with the details. This year was enhanced by hotter weather ( a definite improvement on the mudbath of New Wine, the theological content of which I will get round to posting about eventually) and children old enough to entertain themselves for longer thus leaving me and the missus with more time to read, relax and eat the local fayre, although I definitely do not recommend the tripe!

You know that thing where you say to your kids "Go on, eat up", well I wish I'd never said it after ordering "tripes a l'ancienne" only to discover it tasted like old socks and (possibly because it was a little too "ancienne") had a disastrous effect on my digestive system.

We also took in a local leisure facility called Cap Decouverte which I would thoroughly recommend if you're ever in the area.

Things I did on holiday I'd never done before (or not for a very long time anyway)

1. Eat Tripe (see above)

2. Ride a penny farthing (see photo)

3. Read an entire non-fiction book that wasn't about Theology or sport.

It was "Savage Girls and Wild Boys" by Michael Newton and I found it both moving and fascinating. It is about feral children through the ages and goes from the legend of Romulus and Remus through the medieval wild children of Europe to Kaspar Hauser, to awful stories of modern abuse of children locked away from human contact ( It was written before Josef Fritzl's abuse came to light).

I was interested in it initially because one of the cases was relatively local to where we were staying; then my background in linguistics kicked in (Newton quotes the first books on linguistics I ever read "Transformational Syntax" and "The Articulate Mammal").

Finally my passions were aroused because I just wanted to shout at the author "They have autism!" I know that's a bit of a generalisation, and it doesn't apply to the children who were abused, (except Kaspar Hauser) but the cases Newton examines mostly concern children who have little or no understanding of human language or social interaction, and are discovered living wild with animals. The experts attribute their lack of understanding of human social communication to the fact that they have lived in isolation or with animals whose social communication they do understand. Newton then reflects philosophically on what it means to be human (as opposed to simian/animal) concluding that it has to do with spoken language and "souls" - a useful term he uses to describe the treatment some of these kids went through is "soul murder".

However, having become something of an Autistic Spectrum nerd over the last 18 months (I have a son recently diagnosed as being on the Autistic spectrum and there are at least 2 other kids in our churches on the spectrum - don't get me started on undiagnosed adults), the descriptions of the children just kept pointing towards autism; thus an alternative view might be that far from developing these strange habits while living with animals, these kids had them when they were abandoned and/or rejected by their families and communities - indeed they are the reason they were rejected in the first place.

Any parent of a kid with ASD will know the frustrations that come with that; hundreds of years ago it was acceptable to ride into the woods and leave an unmanageable child there. Being human is a much more inclusive activity these days.

If anyone else out there has any helpful things to say about this I'd value them

O Lord, the clouds are gathering

This shot was taken the night before we arrived at Shepton Mallet for New Wine 09. We always camp at Wincanton Racecourse, in order to make an earlier start on the Saturday, without havign to get up too early.
New Wine was great in terms of content, but muddy and wet in terms of weather. I will post on the things that impacted me most when I return from France in a few days, but for now just let me say it was good to connect with a few bloggers, including Jody and (briefly) Fibrefairy.

Come on in ...

We're off to New Wine this week, with a small party from church ( I have to say that as the first thing vicars say to each other when they meet on the showground is "How many have you brought?")

Anyone else going to LSE who wants to get together can come and find this van on White 6

see you there

Seermon for 19th July at Lindsell and Stebbing

The readings were Ephesians 2,11 to the end and Mark 6, 30 to 44 (I know, playing fast and loose with the lectionary, but what an empty reading if you stuck with the allocated gospel passage!)
Some material from rootsontheweb.

Today’s sermon might be titled “predestination, what’s all that about then, part 2, or, what does it mean to be untied in Christ?” I’m inspired mostly by international events, but if what I share with you helps us on a local level, all the better. The two things in my mind that kicked off this line of thought were the decision this week of the General convention of the TECUSA to overturn a ban on practising homosexuals in holy orders, and the decision of the Greek orthodox church to declare that other churches’ baptism is not valid.

The first part of chapter 2 of the letter to the Ephesians (vv. 1–10) had reminded readers of their liberation from forces beyond their control and their place with Christ. God's grace had saved them, not their own efforts. Today's reading moves on from that to reflect on the unity that Christ brings.

There was in Christ no division between people because of ethnicity, culture or religious background. Gentile believers were first asked to imagine themselves as they might be perceived from a Jewish perspective (vv. 11–12): they did not belong to the elect nation and had no hope. However, Christ has drawn them in (v. 13), not into the old religious context but into a new relationship of peace (vv. 14–18). Christ not only reconciles people to God, but also to one another. Assurance of this double reconciliation is a special contribution of Ephesians. Those who are predestined, then, are not passive but active in relating to each other within the Kingdom of God. In other words, being predestined is not just about sitting back and soaking it up, but about actively proclaiming the unity that has been wrought for us by Jesus.

Even if churches seem sometimes to go into meltdown, we can be assured that the more important body, the Kingdom, remains intact. Once again we a strong illustration of how God’s sovereign will overarches our human understanding of things like time; Paul exhorts his gentile readers to look back at what they were before they came to faith in Christ – and it is that faith in the blood of Christ that has brought them near to God. Yet for God, this perspective has no meaning, as both before and after their conversion he was with them and had chosen them. Their recognition of his choice, and their own submission to his rule and authority brings into effect the power of the Cross.

And the Kingdom, the new temple, the family of God, whatever we call it, is founded in order to bring about a unity among believers – a good thing to remind ourselves of this week.
Although the divisiveness of Old Testament legalism was abolished at the cross and resurrection of Jesus, says Paul in v. 15, the underlying values were not – verse 20 is clear that the prophets play a part in the foundation of the new covenant. Christianity was more than a reshaped Judaism, but God had not given up on the foundational ideals proclaimed under his inspiration. The final verses of the passage use some strong images. Christians are not aliens but citizens and are members of God's household (v. 19). Together they are built into a new temple (vv. 20–22). In this building image we can see a contrast between a dividing wall (v. 14), which kept people apart, and the new structure, which incorporated them and gave them all access to God. Buildings were important symbols of power and glory in the Roman Empire. This new structure symbolised a different reality. It is not a matter of architecture designed to dominate and rule, but of a united community all seeking to serve the cornerstone, Christ.

How we read chapters like Ephesians 2 will be affected by how we interpret the scope of the pronouns – I mean, who we understand the “you”, the “we” to be. If Paul is distinguishing between groups within the church, it is only to make the point that the work of Christ is to unite them. These people he refers to as “you” are not outside the church, they are simply not from a Jewish background – and yet God has chosen to include them in his family. So both we (the Jewish believers, from Paul’s perspective) and “you” – the gentile converts, are united by hope in Christ.

So that’s fine for the first century, but who are “you” and “we” today? If we are talking about different groups within the church, I guess worldwide you can take your pick as to what issue might be dividing God’s people. It isn’t circumcision any more, but it might be sacraments, sex, money, bishops or other aspects of legalism, such a fundamentalist attitude to and reading of the Bible. It might on the other hand be too liberal an attitude to traditional Christian morality. Locally it might be something trivial like those who like one kind of service and those who like another; those who like formality and those who prefer to get messy. Those who like pews, those who don’t.

But don’t spend too much time wondering which group you fit in, just remember that the unity of the church is not something we have to work for, it is something that has been done for us by the grace of God upon the cross of Christ.

The passage emphasises the work of Christ in making one humanity, with the abolition of the fundamental categories that divide people. It also removes the grounds for the division of the Church into multiple sects. Like I say, if you’re at all concerned about what you might be reading in the papers, just hold on to the truth that the Kingdom is not of this world but we are nevertheless citizens of it. And I’m pleased to say that this benefice is enriched by our diversity; we need to remember that the heart of Paul’s’ message to the Ephesians is that you do not have to be the same to be united.

There is a saying that you can choose your friends, but not your family; in the worldwide church right now it would be a good thing if that could be remembered. Of course, alongside it goes the sovereignty of God; churches might be fallible human institutions, but they contain those whom God has chosen. We might not get on with all of them, but they are God’s chosen people – and if we start saying, “no they’re not”, we run the risk of being excluded ourselves – but that’s another sermon.

The opening verses of our gospel reading carry on the story from the mission of the twelve (Mark 6.6b–13) which we looked at last week. We can imagine the excitement of the disciples jostling round Jesus, each wanting to tell their story. What a great picture of unity – all wanting to share, all excited about what Jesus has done in a d through them. That’s the kind of expression of God’s family, God’s chosen people, that I like.

Add to that the crowds attracted by Jesus and there was no space even to eat. Little surprise, then, that Jesus decided to take the Twelve off to a quiet place for debriefing and rest. This is the only time in Mark's Gospel that they are called 'apostles', perhaps emphasising that they were acting in their mission as authorised representatives of Jesus.

Then of course we come to the famous feeding of the 5 thousand. What more can be said about this? Well I’ve been wittering on for a while now so briefly, a few things resonate with me on the topic we address today from these verses.
First, and I’m sure I’ve said this to you before, though Jesus gets the credit for this miracle, it is the 12 disciples who actually have to turn and face the crowds with a few crumbly bits of food in a basket and start sharing them out. This is a picture of how the family of God should be – reliant on God, yes, but not passive, not backward in coming forward to take risks, so that others might have their needs met and so be drawn closer to God.

Second, it is important to note the context of this miracle; these people were not starving for food, but for leadership, for teaching, for knowledge of God; Jesus’ compassion is not initially there because they are hungry, but because no one has told them the good news - perhaps in contrast to those who received the ministry of the 12 in their recent mission. I will never rule out practical and social aid and development as a core part of the mission of the church, but let us not lose sight of the fact that what most people lack is a basic understanding of who Jesus is, and what he has done for the world. Like the disciples with their baskets of food, it is our task to meet that need.

And third, and finally, let us take courage from the tiny amount of resources Jesus used to meet an enormous need. We are a small Church in a small community, but we are God’s family, God’s people here, and we must trust that he will continue to use us for his work, even if we feel inadequate for the task.