Tuesday, 16 June 2009

More Than Just a Riddle

Preached in Christ Church, Moss Side - 10th May 2009. 1 John 4 v7-end and John 15 v1-8

Jesus said, ‘I am the true vine’. Jesus did not say, ‘I am as round as a dishpan, as deep as a tub, and yet the oceans could never fill me. What am I? A sieve!’ Nor did he say, ‘I hold water, yet am full of holes. What am I? A sponge!’

We human beings have rather a thing for riddles, for puzzles of all kinds. November the 12th, 2004 may not strike you immediately as being a key date in history – but when I tell you that it was the day that a Sudoku puzzle was first published in this country, it may stick in your mind! Five years ago, the craze that is Sudoku was unheard of in this country, and yet now the magazine racks are full of endless volumes of such puzzles, such is the appetite for them. Pick up a discarded newspaper on the train, and the Sudoku section will be filled in, either perfectly neatly and correctly, with the minimum of fuss, or with the enraged scribbling of someone, desperate to work out which number they have put in the wrong place!

The year before that heralded the publication of Dan Brown’s ‘Da Vinci Code’. This played right into our craving for puzzles, for cryptic clues and signs, as the characters race to solve the mystery. It remains an incredibly popular book, drawing on our obsession with puzzles and conspiracies. Hundreds of millions of copies have been sold in forty four languages around the world, reinforcing the notion that we human beings love a good puzzle. Even my current favourite – Doctor Who – plays on this each week, with the Doctor and his sidekick having to puzzle out what is wrong, (usually against the clock!) sort it out, and get back to the Tardis before the universe is destroyed!

Jesus often spoke in what sounded like riddles, refusing to be drawn in to making clear cut statements, and preferring to use metaphors, like the parable of the sower, from which people could draw their own conclusions. But what point did these metaphors have? Were they just riddles – cleverly designed to catch peoples’ interest – or is there something more to them?

Throughout John’s Gospel, Jesus makes a series of statements that begin, ‘I am’. But he does not make statements that may help us historically, or in what we deem to be factual. He does not say, ‘I am six foot tall with a beard’, or ‘I am a Capricorn, born in Bethlehem’. What he does say seems rather cryptic, statements like, ‘I am the good shepherd’, ‘I am the light of the world’, ‘I am the living bread’ and, as we heard this morning, ‘I am the true vine’. Almost as mysterious as the last of the Timelords when he proclaims, 'I am the Doctor'!

But are these statements really as cryptic and confusing as they sound?

Firstly, they can be explained by way of the fact that Jesus is talking to people with reference to things that they understand. Were he to describe the true nature of both his relationship with God and with the Earth, were he to make cut and dried statements about who he is – we would not be able to understand. They say that were a human being able to speak the same language as a lion, neither would be able to understand the other, because their frames of reference are so difference. How ‘true’ this is, is beside the point, but how much more must it be the case between us and God? Therefore, that Jesus is able to talk to us using metaphors that we can actually understand is a great bonus!

The people of the Eastern Mediterranean, to whom Jesus was talking at the time, would have been very used to seeing vines, perhaps even to growing them. They would have understood the reference – knowing full well that the branches were dependent on the stem of the vine, and also that, in order to bear much fruit the branches needed pruning and caring for. So they are not puzzles, not statements designed to cause confusion, but rather to promote understanding within the framework of our understanding.

The second thing to note about these statements, is that they are not so cryptic after all. Jesus says ‘I AM the true vine’, not ‘I am LIKE a vine’. Saying ‘I am like a vine’ would prompt a discussion as to the nature of a vine, and how this could relate to Jesus. Perhaps Jesus would come out as looking rather green, leafy, and trained to grow up a trellis.

But he does not claim to be LIKE a vine, rather he says ‘As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me. I AM the vine, you are the branches’.

In this positive statement about Jesus, we see something of the nature of God. Christ is not LIKE a vine, sort of wooden and leafy – rather he IS the vine to our branches. In HIM we have our being, in HIM we have life. In the same way – Jesus is not LIKE bread, sort of warm and doughy – he IS the bread of life. By him are we nourished, fed and sustained. Similarly Christ is not LIKE light – he is THE light of the world. In him are things made clear, in him we rise out of darkness, like children waking out of sleep.

But what about us? Well, let’s apply the same principle. We are together, children of God. Not like children of God, it is not AS THOUGH we are the children of God… we are the children of God, sisters and brothers in Christ, and as we heard in the first reading this morning – it is in living our lives accordingly and keeping the commandment to love one another that we know that Christ abides in us.

Christian Aid week is upon us – and if we do nothing else, let us all ask the question ‘who is my brother, or who is my sister’, and, looking around the world – seeing poverty, injustice, hatred and greed – let us resolve to love one another as He loved us… not LIKE we are brothers and sisters – but as true brothers and sisters in Christ. For it is by our actions that we may come to realise that Christ abides in us, and that we are indeed the branches to his vine.

Thursday, 26 March 2009

The hills are alive...

I am sitting out on the balcony of my guest house, looking out at
sun-drenched snowy peaks, having had quite a hectic few days!

I got the train up from Delhi to Haridwar on Monday morning, then
managed to find a bus to take me to Rishikesh. This was more by luck
than judgement, but I find just wandering around the bus 'depot'
(field) calling out your destination seems to work. In Rishikesh
(where John Lennon learned to play the sitar...) I stayed at an ashram
(kind of a hindu monastery place, full of German hippies doing yoga)
called Shivananda Ashram, named after the Swami that started it. It
was an interesting place to stay, but prostrating myself before the
Swami's tomb was not really my cup of chai. My time was also limited
because...

... I spent all of Tuesday white-water rafting down the Ganges! It was
tremendous fun, although I ingested far too much river-water than
would be advisable, by diving off the raft in a calm spot of river. No
ill-effects thus far... touch wood! It was a fantastic way to see a
bit more of the area though, as we ventured 16km up river before
paddling back.

Yesterday afternoon I embarked on the 18 hour bus ride from Rishikesh
to Manali, via Dehra Dun. It was on the oldest, smelliest, noisiest
rustbucket of a bus that I have ever encountered, but it was home for
the night. Needless to say, no sleep was to be had.

So I arrived in Manali at 7am, took myself on a walk around town
(followed by a dog most of the way), met a friendly Indian businessman
who then tried to sell me a chicken, booked into my little guest house
and then treated myself to a nice lunch! Manali is great; I hadn't
realised how far into the mountains it is, so the spectacular views
make up for it being absolutely freezing!

I'm here until 6pm Saturday, before another overnight bus journey
takes me to Dharamsala- have opted for a private company this time, am
hoping for a more comfortable ride. Hollow laughter.

--
Sent from Google Mail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Saturday, 14 March 2009

Delhi hotpot!

Been here in Delhi for almost a week now, and I have to say it is by
far and away the most bonkers place I've ever been! A seething mass of
humanity, it's the noisiest, busiest (and hottest) city that I have
experienced.

I am staying at Brotherhood House in North Delhi, which by contrast to
the outside world is an oasis of calm and tranquility! The company is
great, food good, and so far (touch wood) my stomach is proving strong
enough to cope with the rigours of Indian life.

The past two evenings I have driven across town with Father Monodeep,
to attend Lent groups in peoples' houses. After getting over the shock
of making it through the traffic in one piece, I have really enjoyed
these glimpses into Indian family life. I even think I managed to
avoid causing too much offense with my odd Western cultural ways!

Next week I am being a bit touristy, with tours of Delhi and Agra (for
the Taj Mahal!) respectively. The following week I am planning to
escape to the mountains, staying in Rishikesh, Manali and Mcleod Ganj.
The latter is where the Tibetan Government in exile is based, so I
hope to pick up lots of trendy Tibetan nick-nacks to bring home.

--
Sent from Google Mail for mobile | mobile.google.com

Sunday, 8 March 2009

Heading East

I am about to break new ground. Having previously not been further east than Budapest, tomorrow I fly to Delhi, which is so far east that it's almost west. Nearly.


View Larger Map

My second Google Map in two posts(!) shows where I'm going - flying to Dubai tomorrow and then on to Delhi, arriving at 9.30am on Tuesday morning. I will be staying at the Delhi Christian Brotherhood, who have their house in the middle of the city. I'll be staying there for a week or so, seeing what they do among the underprivileged of Delhi, before heading north to Rishikesh, to stay in an Ashram for a few days. I'll hopefully use it as a base to explore further into the foothills of the Himalayas, looking at temples and monasteries and wandering along the infant stages of the River Ganges.

When I'm able to get on the internet, I'll try and post a few pictures and whatnot to let you know what I'm up to and that I'm still alive. It's going to be quite an adventure, partly as I have so little planned at this stage. But it is going to be fun.

Friday, 27 February 2009

St Aidan's Way

A couple of us from Westcott House in Cambridge are planning a bit of an adventure for the summer. It will involve walking from Lindisfarne to Iona, Holy Island to Sacred Isle, the way of the saints (only in reverse). A vague map of the route, which will be some 270 miles in total can be seen below.


View Larger Map

The plan is in its infancy at the moment, but we will be doing it as simply and cheaply as possible, partly in tribute to the monks who did a similar route 1400 years ago, and partly to keep our bank managers happy. Camping along the way and hopefully boat-hitching the ferry crossings, it's going to be quite a journey.

Tuesday, 10 February 2009

On Absence and Unknowability

Preached in Fitzwilliam College Chapel, Cambridge - 8th February 2009. Isaiah 40 v21-end and Mark 1 v29-39.

God is unknowable. No one has ever seen God. There are no words that can describe God. And yet we try. Our reading from Isaiah tells of the glory and majesty of God, laid out in the world around us. ‘Who is my equal, says the Holy One. Lift up your eyes on high and see, who created these?’ By studying the world around us, we can come to see something of the awesome power of God; his love made manifest in creation. But we do not see God. Creation is not what God is; creation does not equal God, rather it is of God. An outpouring, an expression.

But we like to be able to define a thing in positive terms, so we take our human labels, our precepts about what a deity should be, and stick them to God, like some giant celestial game of pin the tail on the donkey. And just as in the children’s game, the tail never quite ends up in the right place. Only in this case we don’t know if the donkey has a tail. We don’t even know if it is a donkey.

Our need for labels, for a ‘positive identification’ as it were, so often gets in the way. Ask a child to describe or (heaven forbid) draw God, and nine times out of ten you will end up with a cross between Father Christmas and Godzilla. This amuses us, but to what extent are we really above and beyond this way of thinking? We may make use of elegant language and sophisticated arguments, but the problem is, when we make statements about what God is like, we are getting in the way of letting God show us.

The poet Wendell Berry wrote,

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
And find that dark, too, blooms and sings,
And is travelled by dark feet and dark wings.

When we go looking for God with our preconceptions about him, that is all we will ever find. Scouring the darkness with our own source of light, we see only what we illuminate. It is much easier than spending the time to let our eyes adjust and let the darkness reveal its own secrets.

Because God has shown us. Or rather, we read about close encounters of the divine kind. From Moses averting his gaze to Saul, blinded on the road to Damascus, an experience of God that potent, that sudden, that real, is to our souls what someone suddenly turning on a light in a darkened room is to our eyes. A blinding experience, where that much revelation that quickly, is simply too much for us to take. Paul’s conversion, so sudden, shocking and unexpected, rendered him unable to process what was going on.

So what we need is something between the two. A way of exploring, making sense of the darkness that surrounds us, without trying to throw our own light on the situation but conversely without the raw power of God crashing through and over-exposing us, like a photo, ruined by too much light getting in. A companion, someone to sit with us as our eyes adjust, someone to help us make sense of the world around us as it comes into focus, someone to show us glimpses of God without shocking our delicate senses.

So God was made man and dwelt among us.

Glimpses of God, as made clear in today’s Gospel reading, in a form we can understand, that of our own kind.

A glimpse of the power of God. Jesus heals, he casts out demons, he does things that demonstrate power over the created order, power that can only come from God and yet appears on earth, in the shape of a human being. We see the healing power, the ability to cast out demons, to relieve the pain and suffering that can act as a barrier between us and belief in a loving God.

A glimpse of the love of God – as Jesus comes to those in need. He does not distance himself from the everyday life and suffering of humanity. He is not perturbed or disturbed by the people he meets, rather he rolls up his sleeves and meets us where we are, whether that be strong in faith or full of questions, in all our human weakness and frailty God comes to us, and makes his love known.

A glimpse of how God works. Jesus’ Gospel is (w)holistic. In his teaching about eternal life, it is never at the expense of our human existence. Our experiences, joys, sufferings, comings, goings, are never belittled by the promise of salvation. God’s saving grace is not something for the future, something perpetually coming ‘tomorrow’ but rather something in the here and now. In his ministry Jesus heals with the one hand and proclaims the coming of the Kingdom with the other. They are not mutually exclusive, but go hand in hand with one another.

We are not changed per se, but rather we are made whole. We become who we are called to be, through the power and love of God present on earth in Christ Jesus. And it is in this growth of understanding, in this glimpse of God that the darkness is opened up to us.

We need no longer take our own light, trying to make sense for ourselves of a world that is beyond our comprehension. Nor do we need fear having our senses blitzed by God, who is so far beyond our comprehension that our brains cannot cope. What we have, when we meet God in human form, is a fellow traveller. Someone with whom to sit in the dark and examine and interpret what we see as our eyes adjust.

Our relationship with Jesus allows us to wander out into the dark, just as he does in the Gospel we heard and simply be with God.

God is unknowable. No one has ever seen God. There are no words that can describe God. And yet in Jesus we come close. We catch a glimpse of that glory, that love, and we can rest, sure in the knowledge that one day we will meet God, and not need to shield our eyes.

Wednesday, 7 January 2009

How to Shoot Yourself in Both Feet...

...get rid of these two.

What a very English coup. They clearly did not get on, and could not work together. Pietersen disliked Moores' boot-camp style, Moores disliked Pietersen's style of captaincy. Pietersen wanted Vaughan back in the team, Moores did not.

Unlike previous captain Vaughan, Pieterson's batting average increased with the added pressure of captaincy, as you might expect from a man who clearly thrives on pressure. So why all this upheaval, and only months away from an emminently winnable Ashes series, against an Australia team in dissaray? Some teams lose a coach, some a captain. But to lose both, this close to an important series is plain barmy.

And the maddest thing? Most obvious replacement for the job, Andrew Strauss, is not in the one-day side for the upcoming series against the West Indies. Which means, in all likelihood, a return to the split-captaincy regime of the past. Oh joy.

Monday, 29 December 2008

Michael Vaughan. And why not?

Over the past few days there has been a big buzz around whether the England selectors would see fit to bring Michael Vaughan, former captain of the England cricket team, back into the squad to face the West Indies. He has not played an international match since stepping down as captain last summer, and failed to show any inkling of his immense talent at county level towards the end of last season. On the face of it, there are very few reasons to hand him a place in the squad at the expense of one of the other top order batsmen - Bell or Shah.

And the selectors didn't. Vaughan continues to be treated like the David Beckham of cricket; left out in the cold following years of loyal service to his country. But here the footballing analogy must end - because cricket simply does not work like that. While in football a captain is simply a puppet of the coach - someone who may be an inspirational character but has no overall say about tactics, in cricket the captain of the side wields much greater influence over what goes on over the course of the match.

And that is why the captain of the national team, currently Kevin Pietersen, sits on the Board of Selectors, and has a say about who is included in the squad. This is key as when it comes to the crunch, it is KP who is on the field and not the selectors, and he needs to know that he is surrounded by players in whom he has confidence. Now, Pietersen was never cited as being in favour of bringing back Vaughan during all this hype in the press, and since the decision has been made he has come forward to claim it never crossed his mind. But it may not be as simple as that. Pietersen has to gee up his side for the forthcoming tour of the Windies, not forgetting the summer's Ashes which loom large. Harking back to Michael Vaughan's glory days of 2005 and before is not the way to instill confidence in a beleaguered side.

Ian Bell's form in Test cricket since his 199 against South Africa at Lord's last summer has seen him score just 182 runs at an average of 20. That is simply not good enough for an England No.3. Vaughan has the ability, the proven record, and is statistically England's most successful ever captain. Who wouldn't want him on the pitch?

Sunday, 16 November 2008

Enemy of Apathy


Preached in Fitzwilliam College Chapel, Cambridge - 16th November 2008. 1 Thess 5 v1-11 and Matt 25 v14-30.

This story isn’t about money. Well, it is, it’s about a lot of money. One talent: that much gold today would be worth £500,000. But it’s not about the money. Because in today’s climate, this story would play out rather different.

A benevolent employer decides to put his workforce to the test. The first recipient sets up a hedge fund. The second puts the money into a high interest ISA with an Icelandic bank. The third gets cold feet and hides it under a floorboard at home.

The first loses the lot when Porsche buy out VW, meaning that his gamble that the share price would fall backfires spectacularly. The second sees his assets frozen by anti-terror laws when the bank goes into liquidation and is still waiting to see if he will get even a fraction of it back.

So, on the day of reckoning the third calmly hands back his share. The employer, shocked at the catastrophic actions of the others, is grateful simply to get back the original sum. The first two lose their jobs, their houses and all the trappings of their extravagant lifestyles. Because that is how human society works – the success of a venture is measured by its visible results. Failure, when it comes, is measured in finite terms, and is not tolerated.

Just like the first two servants, the first two here took the risk and put the money to work. Unlike the first two servants, the gamble did not pay off. When it comes to the crunch, money isn’t something you can rely on.

In fact, human beings aren’t particularly reliable either; irrational, unpredictable creatures, illustrated by the differing reactions of the three recipients in the parable. But God, in his infinite wisdom, decides to go against every code of common sense that exists, and invest in humanity. True, we vary hugely in our gifts – some of us are entrusted with fewer talents than others; there are some people who can handle five talents; there are some who can handle only one. There are some persons who have great intellectual capabilities, and some who do not. There are some who have the ability to project and articulate their thoughts, and there are some who cannot. There are some who have physical prowess and attractive looks, and there are some who do not.

But it is important to recognise that not one of the servants was left idle. We cannot all be five-talent people: the pressure would be intolerable. Imagine being sentenced to an eternity of Apprentice-like competition, with bickering, backbiting and baying for attention from a divine Alan Sugar-esque character. But we are entrusted with gifts. We all are. And those two servants who were rewarded in today’s Gospel reading were not rewarded on account of the dividend they returned but on account of the effort they made; and that reward was perfectly equal in magnitude. The same is true of the servant who failed in the eyes of his master – it was not due to the lack of income that he was cursed, but due to the inaction on his part. ‘You wicked and lazy slave’ highlights the evils of sloth and inaction.

After communion we will pray with the words ‘send us out in the power of your spirit, to live and work to your praise and glory’. We cannot hope to even come close to that ideal without putting our talents to work, for the glory of God and God’s kingdom here on earth.

Because when the master does return, how else will we be able to justify the original investment in ourselves?

The reassuring thing about this lesson is that, unlike human justice, success is judged by activity rather than by result. Engaging, wrestling with issues, misguided ventures and exploration are all preferable to inaction. We are sentient, reasoning beings – that in itself is a gift, which we ignore at our peril. And we are given the freedom to explore. By ‘reaping where he has not sown’, the master gives grain that has arrived at being grain by other means, or is exploring what it is to be grain, or is grain that calls itself grass, or indeed is grass that calls itself grain – the chance to be part of the harvest.

By ‘reaping where he has not sown’ the master dismisses the idea of there being an elected, pre-ordained harvest, in favour of taking the chance – that the extra work will reap dividends.

When will this take place? Well Paul gives us the wonderful image of the thief in the night – an unannounced and surprising coming. In the meantime we shuffle along our mortal plane, with the commission to put our gifts to work, but safe in the knowledge that at the end of days, God – our creator, redeemer and sustainer but apparently unorthodox farmer, will leave the flock to search us out, and reap outside the field, that we might spend eternity, worshipping with the saints – children of the light.

AMEN.

Thursday, 23 October 2008

Jean Vanier comes to town

What a man. 'We are healed by those we have rejected'. What a message. For those who don't know, Jean Vanier set up L'Arche, which have something like 140 communities around the world where people with mental and physical disabilities live together, aided by volunteers. He has lived in one such community for the past 40 years, apparently selfless in his devotion to serving others.

But his message last night was one of two-way giving, a life that is mutually beneficial to disabled resident and able volunteer. A counter-cultural message, preaching a way of life that is without competition and prejudice. A way of life with love at the centre, where life has a meaning, where people are told 'I'm glad you are alive; my life would be all the poorer without you'.

Charity should not assume an authority, should never assume that the 'poor' have nothing to teach us about life, about ourselves. But neither should it be based on the sure hope of something in return. Jesus said when you host a meal, do not invite your family, your neighbours, your friends and ply them with fine wine and food. Rather invite the poor, the sick, the lame, the hungry - and treat them to the wonders of your table. Because when it comes down to it, your family, friends and neighbours will repay the favour with more of the same.

You'll get much more back from those less fortunate than yourself, but you may not realise it. A group from one of L'Arche's Scottish communities came to stay with us on Iona back in the summer, and it is only in the context of hearing Jean Vanier talk about his experiences and his belief in the wholeness of these people that I am coming to realise what an effect they had on me.

What a man. 'We are healed by those we have rejected'. What a message.