“Once every three years the fleet of ships of Tarshish used to come bringing gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks.”
Once every three years? Obviously, he didn’t have Amazon Prime.
Those who sow in tears
shall reap with songs of joy.
Those who go out weeping, bearing the seed,
will come back with shouts of joy,
bearing their sheaves with them.
“Solomon offered as sacrifices of well-being to the Lord twenty-two thousand oxen and one hundred and twenty thousand sheep. So the king and all the people of Israel dedicated the house of the Lord.” (1 Kings 8:63)
That’s some housewarming! (I’m guessing he didn’t get Ocado to deliver.)
Don’t normally read from the Book of Tobit, but it comes up in the lectionary today, the Feast of Michael and All Angels.
This extract from Wikipedia gives you an idea of what you’ve been missing:
“That night, he (Tobit) slept in the open and was blinded by bird droppings that fell in his eyes. That put a strain on his marriage, and ultimately, he prayed for death.
Meanwhile, in faraway Media, a young woman named Sarah had prayed for death in despair. She had lost seven husbands to the demon of lust, Asmodeus, ‘the worst of demons’, who abducted and killed every man she married, on their wedding night before the marriage could be consummated. God sent the angel Raphael, disguised as a human, to heal Tobit and to free Sarah from the demon.
Along the way, while washing his feet in the river Tigris, he (Tobit’s son, Tobias), was attacked by a fish which tried to swallow his foot. By order of the angel he captured it. The heart, liver and gall bladder were removed to make medicines, by order of Raphael.
Upon arriving in Media, Raphael told Tobias of the beautiful Sarah, whom Tobias had the right to marry, because he was her cousin and closest relative. He instructed the young man to burn the fish’s liver and heart to drive away the demon when he attacks on the wedding night.
The two were married, and the fumes of the burning organs drove the demon away to Upper Egypt, while Raphael followed him and bound “
Last night some of us were at the Cathedral for the Pastoral Workers’ Licensing service. It was an interesting experience, going to church on a Saturday night. (As I said to the Archdeacon, some of us have to work in the morning!) Have you been in Chester on a Saturday night lately? I saw my first Hen Party at about 6:00PM. The streets were full of groups of people. I suspect that some of the people walking the streets had been drinking. So, there we were in the Cathedral, while all around us, the streets were full of ‘sinners’.
What none of us in the cathedral thought to do was to start criticizing the Bishop, the Archdeacon or the Dean! In today’s gospel, Jesus enters the temple and addresses the religious leaders of his day.
This happens after Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, riding on a donkey on the day we call Palm Sunday. Matthew tells of Jesus ‘cleansing’ the Temple, by throwing out the money changers and turning over their tables. Then, he curses a fig tree, a Parable of an unfruitful people. (God’s people are supposed to bear fruit – good works and the like – but God’s people are often a barren lot.)
His criticism is of religious leadership that is not connected with God. (Not Judaism, or Jewish people. What Jesus says and does applies equally to Christian religious people).
The chief priests and elders ask, By what authority does Jesus teach? Jesus pulls a fast one. He sets them a question to which there is no right answer: was John’s baptism human or divine? If it was divine, why didn’t you believe him? If you say it was human, there’s a whole crowd of people who believe it was from God and they are going to cause you trouble.
They refuse to answer and Jesus refuses to answer them. He’s tricky!
So, Jesus tells this Parable. A man has two sons. He tells them both to work in the vineyard. One says he won’t but does. One says he will but doesn’t. The one who does his father’s will is not the one who says he’s doing it, but the one who actually does it.
You, the religious leaders, say you’re doing God’s will. But you’re not. The sinners who went to be baptised by John, never claimed to be doing God’s will. But they did it. And they are going into the kingdom of God ahead of you.
What does that mean, ‘doing the will of God’? What does it look like? You can bet that going to church is not a very big part of it! Here we talk the talk. Out there, we have to walk the walk. (As I believe young people say.)
As church people, we are those who say we are doing God’s will. But are we? Are we doing any better than the unchurched ‘sinners’ around us?
Don’t get me wrong: we don’t do ‘good’ in order to get into heaven. We get into heaven because God loves us. We know that, don’t we? But as those who know that they are loved, surely we would want to do good?
As we left the cathedral, walking through the streets of Chester, I saw a group of Street Pastors – a Christian organisation that puts people on the streets in the places where the crowds are. They wear distinctive sweatshirts so that if someone wants to talk or needs a bit of help, they are there. They are doing the will of God. We’re not all called to be on the streets at night, but what would it look like for you and me to be doing the will of God? Being in church, even on a Saturday night or a Sunday, might be part of that. But it sure enough isn’t all of it!
We know love by this, that he laid down his life for us—and we ought to lay down our lives for one another.
How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?
Little children, let us love, not in word or speech, but in truth and action.
1 John 3:16-18
Over the summer, I preached at Ely Cathedral – in the Lady Chapel, to a group of pilgrims from Halewood and beyond. Beforehand, eager to prepare, I looked at the lectionary readings set for that day, 29th August. On 29th August, the church calendar invites us to remember… The Beheading of John the Baptist. Great! Have you ever heard a sermon on the beheading of John the Baptist? I’ve preached one! And today the lectionary takes us back:
Now Herod the ruler heard about all that had taken place, and he was perplexed, because it was said by some that John had been raised from the dead,
by some that Elijah had appeared, and by others that one of the ancient prophets had arisen. Herod said, ‘John I beheaded; but who is this about whom I hear such things?’ And he tried to see him. (Luke 9:7-9)
There was a time when we might have thought that beheadings belonged to the history books – two wives of Henry VIII or the aristocrats of the French Revolution – both of which have been turned into ‘Carry On’ films.
But today, it’s not possible to treat the subject with such a light touch. The actions of members of the Islamic State, and others, broadcast to the world via internet videos, remind us that the barbaric practice survives.
It has always been there – robbing the deceased of any dignity in death and their relatives of a decent burial. It’s the ultimate form of disrespect. But before we despair, let me tell you that according to Steven Pinker, we may be living in the most peaceful time ever in the history of the human species. Difficult to believe, but Pinker argues that human beings in previous centuries have lived with, and died from, violence and conflict in far greater proportion than we do today. Far fewer human beings, as a proportion of the whole population, die violent deaths in our own day than in previous centuries.
Why were we invited to remember the beheading of John the Baptist? Most Christian saints from the earliest centuries of the church were martyrs – they died for their faith – and they are commemorated on the anniversary of their death, seen as the day of their entry into heaven. With John, we get to commemorate his birth as well (on 24 June, six months before the birth of Jesus, whose miraculous birth John prefigures) and he pops up in advent as the precursor to Jesus. But today his martyrdom is in view. Like Jesus, John’s death is recorded as significant.
John the Baptist – a bit of an awkward so-and-so, I’ve always thought – stands up for what is right, whatever the cost. He appears as one, sent by God, “crying aloud in the wilderness”, wearing clothes of camel’s hair, and living on locusts and wild honey. He denounces sin and hypocrisy, especially the religious sort, and proclaims a baptism of forgiveness. (Wouldn’t he be great in Celebrity Big Brother? Or some makeover show. Imagine Gillian McKeith telling him, ‘You are what you eat’. And what would Gok say about that camel-hair robe?)
John also preaches that another is coming who will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.
But John denounces Herod’s incestuous marriage to his brother’s wife, Herodias, and is thrown into prison. Why doesn’t Herod execute him straightaway? Perhaps he fears that John really is God’s messenger. The daughter of Herodias (we call her Salome, but she is not named in the Gospels) pleases Herod with her dance and, offered any reward, goaded by her mother, demands John’s head on a plate. It’s barbaric, of course. But John gets his comeuppance.
You and I might have advised him to bite his tongue. Surely it’s better for you to live on and preach for years to come, not have your career cut short by denouncing those in power? It makes sense, but not to John.
The book of Hebrews reminds us that John stands in a long line of those who were “faithful unto death” (Hebrews 11.32 – 12.2), even though they wouldn’t see what we have seen – the fulfilment of God’s promise in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. John didn’t see the resurrection either. But like the heroes of Hebrews, and others before and since, he put his hope in the things he had not seen.
But it was not John who had been raised from the dead. Nor was it Elijah or one of the prophets. Something greater than any of them is here. Like John, his birth is accompanied by angels. Like John, he will die at the hands of the powerful. But unlike John, this Jesus will show through his resurrection, just how limited is the power ultimately of a Herod, or any who hold on to earthly power by violence.
Jesus said,
“It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle,
than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God.”
Matthew 16:24
You may have been told at Sunday school that there was in Jerusalem a small gate into the walled city, called ‘The Eye of a Needle’, and that this gate was not big enough to allow a camel, carrying a heavy load, to enter. Unburden the camel, and with a bit of a squeeze, it could make its way through the gate into the city.
The idea was that, as Jesus said it was easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God, you could at least imagine a way of doing it: the rich man simply unburdens himself of his wealth, on his deathbed, ideally – like the camel being unloaded – and voila! He’s in.
You may have been told that: you were lied to. There is no archaeological evidence that any gate existed in Jesus’ day, even if Victorian travellers were sometimes shown its location. There is no reference to any such a gate before perhaps the 9th century. And if you watch QI, you’d have known that.
Another possible explanation is that there is some confusion between the Greek word kamilos (‘camel’) and kamêlos, meaning ‘cable, rope’. You can imagine that it is tough to get a rope through the eye of a needle, but not impossible.
But why would you want to imagine such a thing? Jesus says, It’s impossible. (Matthew 19:25) So, the ludicrous picture of someone trying to force an actual camel through the tiny eye of an actual needle is probably what Jesus intended. That’s how the disciples heard it: it’s impossible for a rich man to get into heaven.
But wait a minute! Surely, rich people are God’s favourites?! After all, he has blessed them, rewarded them for their hard work and diligence! They must be high up on his list of who gets in to heaven. The same people who get the best seats at the Cup Final or who walk the red carpet into the starry premier of some Hollywood blockbuster – surely, they’re just the kind of people who get into heaven first? (The people who get called first when the aeroplane is starting to board, so that, when you and I make our way to our economy seats, they’re already sipping champagne and relaxing in their sumptuous seat before it reclines to make a proper bed.)
What the disciples say is, ‘If rich men can’t get into heaven, what hope is there for the rest of us?’ And Jesus says, ‘Exactly!’ The rich man cannot buy his way into heaven. It’s impossible. Like trying to force an actual camel through the tiny eye of an actual needle.
But before we get too smug about the fate of the 1%, the inhabitants of the Sunday Times ‘Rich List’, it’s probably worth asking what we mean by ‘rich’. Here’s a definition: if you have ever asked, “What shall we have for dinner?” you’re richer than most people who have ever lived. For most people in the world throughout the history of our species, the question has not been, ‘What shall we eat today’, but ‘Shall we eat today?’ Is there food or not, today? According to the philosopher Peter Singer, if you have ever drunk bottled water, when there was perfectly clean water available from a nearby tap, you are a rich person, compared with most of the people who share our world, the many who have no access to clean water, let alone fancy imported bottled water.
When the disciples heard this, they were greatly astounded and said, ‘Then who can be saved?’ But Jesus looked at them and said, ‘For mortals it is impossible,
but for God all things are possible.’
Matthew 19:25, 26
The slightly disappointing news – if you are rich – is that rich men get saved just like poor ones: by God’s grace –God’s underserved love. That’s tough for rich people who are used to getting want they want by paying for it. If you’ve paid for it, you know you deserve it. Imagine how humbling it is to admit that you are a sinner, in need of God’s unmerited love and forgiveness, just the same as the poor, the homeless, the refugee, the person who has nothing.
And that’s why it’s dangerous to be rich! Because we think we can make our own way in this world and the next. Jesus warns us – the rich – that we’ve had all we are going to get. If all your investment is in the wealth of this world, that’s where all your rewards will be. And who on earth would want to be as poor as that?
In Luke 6:20-26, Jesus blesses the poor and warns the rich; he blesses the hungry and warns the well-fed; he blesses those who mourn and warns those who laugh. Blessed are those who know their need of God (cf Matthew 5:3).
Jesus asks a good question. Let me rephrase that: does Jesus ask a good question? (You’ll have guessed that I think he does.) Here, the question addressed to a respectable religious man named Simon, is:
Do you see this woman?
How could he not have seen her? She’s in his house! And behaving… Like that! Such a notorious woman, a well-known ‘sinner’. How could he not have seen her? A woman like that! (We are never told what kind of sinner she is. But we can guess. Her reputation goes before her.)
Perhaps we wonder how a woman like that comes to be in the house of Simon the Pharisee. ‘Mr Respectable’ certainly didn’t invite her. We’re so used to living behind locked doors, keeping the world out, that we can’t imagine a world where, if you invite a celebrity to dinner, the whole street turns up.
And what does she think she is doing there? It turns out, that although the respectable, religious world has rejected her – they know what sort of woman she is! – Jesus hasn’t. And Jesus, through his actions, models what God is like.
Simon, the respectable religious man, thinks, “If Jesus were a prophet, he would know what sort of woman this is, and have nothing to do with her”. And here she is, bathing Jesus’ feet with her tears, drying them with her hair. Kissing his feet! Showing her gratitude and love in the only way she knows how, through intimate, tender touch.
Simon, do you see this woman? Simon hasn’t seen this woman. He has only see what sort of woman she is. Jesus has seen this woman: a unique individual, created in the image of God.
And so Jesus tells this story about the two debtors. Neither of them is ever going to pay back what they owe, but the banker lets both of them off! Given that one owed a large sum of money and the other, a huge sum of money, who is going to be more grateful? (The one who is left off the larger amount.)
Simon, the respectable religious man, presumably feels that God is jolly lucky to have him on board. This woman (and sadly we are never told her name) feels simply overwhelmed that God, unlike so many others, has not rejected her. That’s what Jesus shows in the way in which he accepts her love.
Jesus tells her that her sins are forgiven, that her faith has saved her; that she can go in peace. Who is this that even forgives sins? Jesus is modelling God’s love, welcome and acceptance.
The photographer, at ‘the wedding of the year’ is taking pictures of guests as they arrive in church. The bride’s mother appears in all her glory. “Young man”, she says to the photographer. “I hope that you will do me justice!” “What you need”, says the photographer under his breath, is not justice, but mercy.”
How do you approach God today? Demanding that he do you justice? (Be careful!) Or simply needing his mercy? (I know which I need!)
| Psalm | 22:23-28 |
| First Reading: | Philippians 2:6-11 |
| Second Reading: | John 3:13-17 |
| Additional Collect: | Almighty God, you search us and know us: may we rely on you in strength and rest on you in weakness, now and in all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. |
‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life’.
John 3:16
Perhaps the most famous Bible verse ever. So famous that the reference – John 3:16 – sometimes turns up in the strangest places. There was a time when in the crowd at sporting events you might see someone holding up a placard with ‘John 3:16’ on. In 1994, when the World Cup was held in the United States, my brother – who is not a regular church-goer – found a bible and looked it up. He was surprised to discover that it has nothing to do with football.
It comes as part of the dialogue between Jesus and a Jewish religious leader, Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a Pharisee and a member of the Sanhedrin. John tells us he came to Jesus one night to talk religion (John 3:1–21). Why at night? Perhaps he was busy all day, praying. Or perhaps he was embarrassed that he, a religious teacher, with all the qualifications and status that goes with that, found himself coming to Jesus, the carpenter’s son, with no qualification or status to teach. (Nicodemus addresses Jesus as ‘Rabbi’, a title to which he was not entitled.)
Jesus tells Nicodemus, the man with the qualifications and status, that all his religion will get him nowhere. (Nicodemus had probably realised that already.) What he needs is to be born again, born from above. And the problem with the expression ‘born again’ is that it has been hijacked. Some Christians are not just Christians, they’re ‘born again’ Christians. Which is better. Apparently. (“This is not just food. This is M&S food.” “I’m not just a Christian. I’m a born again Christian.”)
In John, the expression ‘born again’ could equally be translated, ‘born from above’ (as it is in NRSV). Either way, there aren’t two types of Christian. Jesus tells Nicodemus that he needs to be born from above, born spiritually. Are you are alive physically? You were probably born. Are you alive spiritually? You must have been born spiritually, from above.
What is born of the flesh is flesh, and what is born of the Spirit is spirit.
John 3:6
Nicodemus has religion. But he doesn’t have the reality – the spiritual reality – that he sees in Jesus. The reality of a life-giving relationship with God, which is the gift of God’s Spirit. He needs to be born of the Spirit. Otherwise, he’ll never understand the heavenly realities that Jesus has come to share.
And then it gets weird. Jesus says,
just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
John 3:14, 15
The story behind this is in Numbers (22:4-9). The people of Israel, having been brought out of Egypt are thoroughly fed up of life in the wilderness. They start to moan:
The people spoke against God and against Moses, ‘Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we detest this miserable food.’ Then the Lord sent poisonous serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many Israelites died. The people came to Moses and said, ‘We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.’ So Moses prayed for the people. And the Lord said to Moses, ‘Make a poisonous serpent, and set it on a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.’ So Moses made a serpent of bronze, and put it upon a pole; and whenever a serpent bit someone, that person would look at the serpent of bronze and live.
Numbers 22:5-9
I told you it was weird!
The problem was snakes. The solution was something in the form of a snake, lifted up. Those who look up to the snake are saved.
The problem that Nicodemus had – and that you and I have – is that our human selves are broken, flawed. We are self-centred, self-interested, self-satisfying. The problem is our broken humanity. The solution comes in the form of that humanity. Jesus, incarnate in the very flesh where the problem resides.
Jesus
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not regard equality with God
as something to be exploited,
but emptied himself,
taking the form of a slave,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
and became obedient to the point of death
— even death on a cross.
Philippians 2:6-8
And just as the bronze serpent was lifted up and became the salvation of those who looked up, so Jesus will be lifted up on the Cross and all who look up to him on the Cross will be saved.
And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.
John 3:14, 15
Today is Holy Cross Day (and I’m preaching at St Cross Church). As Archdeacon Michael said in his sermon at my Induction on Wednesday: The Cross is not an optional extra. It is not an embarrassment to be swept under the carpet.
In Jesus on the Cross we see God’s answer to our human problem. It looks like foolishness to us. It looks like weakness. But
God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom,
and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.
1 Corinthians 1:25
Today we are invited to look up to Jesus on the Cross, Christ crucified, and to celebrate God’s love made known to us in the folly and weakness of a crucified man.
It’s tough being king. One minute they’re bringing you bread, fruit and wine. The next, someone’s chucking stones at you and covering you with dust!
But then, if you’re Simon Peter, you get a sheet full of reptiles to eat…
 | Karen hearhcote on Dear Prime Minister |
 | Catherine McNulty on The Generation Game |
 | Carol on On This Day… |
 | Sue Torpey on The Life You Can Save |
 | jesusandthebible on Our Father (Luke 11.1-4) |
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