Preferring Nothing to Christ

Luke 20:27-38

Since the death of Br Herbert Kaden, a monk of the Turvey communities, and the celebration of All Saints and All Souls, I have been turning round in my heart and mind what I understand about our passing from this world to the next. I have been put back in touch with my seven-year-old self who learnt the Penny Catechism:

Why did God make you?
God made me to know him, love him and serve him in this world, and to be happy with him forever in the next.

So far so good. God has a plan for me, and it involves not only this world but ‘the next.’

Of which must you take more care, of your body or of your soul?
I must take more care of my soul; for Christ has said, ‘What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world, and suffer the loss of his own soul?’

At this point my seven-year-old self is a bit confused and a little afraid. Life is very physical for a seven-year-old. I need to be warm, well fed, have affection and enjoy nice things. What about my soul?

And then to the last page of the Catechism:

After your night prayers what should you do?
After my night prayers I should observe due modesty in going to bed; occupy myself with thoughts of death; and endeavour to compose myself at the foot of the Cross, and to give my last thoughts to my crucified Saviour.

I am frightened now and that promise of my being ‘happy with him forever in the next‘ seems a long way away.

I bring all of these thoughts to today’s Gospel text. Underlying the whole scene is a very human question: What happens when we die? The Sadducees hold a position which from our vantage point seems strange and perhaps a little sad. They don’t believe in resurrection. Their questioning of Jesus is designed to trap and also to poke fun.

On one level their question is a category error: Now, at the resurrection, to which of them will she be wife since she had been married to all seven?’

We know that we are promised life with God, but just what form this will take we do not really know. Our theological talk uses phrases like ‘beatific vision’, ‘perpetual light’, ‘everlasting glory’ and ‘bliss’. But when we try to unpack what exactly this might mean we are likely to make appeal to metaphors. We often console ourselves when someone dies by imagining them being reunited with family members and friends. We can’t say for certain if this will be the case, as resurrection remains a mystery to us.

Sr Verna Holyhead summarises our hope in the resurrection in a helpful way:

The power of the resurrection is utterly new and overwhelmingly transforming. To be children of the resurrection is to be ready to commit ourselves into the hands of God, accepting that our relationship with God surpasses any other human relationship, no matter how intimate and loving.

Jesus challenges the Sadducees’ picture of God when he says:

Now he is God, not of the dead, but of the living; for to him all men are in fact alive.

My picture of God is constantly challenged too when I engage with the Gospels. While we cannot be certain what heaven will entail, we do know that God’s love and mercy are far beyond what we could ever imagine. The Risen Christ is among us and invites us to live the resurrected life here and now. My seven-year-old self knew what to do and was ready to ‘know him, love him and serve him.’

How can you live as child of the resurrection this week?

So, the invitation this week is to commit ourselves

Luke 19:1-10

Last week’s parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector may still be lingering in our scriptural imaginations. We’ve had our preconceptions challenged a little and we know that the Jesus of Luke’s Gospel champions the outcast. Within the first verse of today’s text we already have a challenge:

‘Jesus entered Jericho and was going through the town when a man whose name was Zacchaeus made his appearance: he was one of the senior tax collectors and a wealthy man.’ 

Zacchaeus’ name comes from a Hebrew root which means ‘innocent’ or ‘clean’. Can Zacchaeus reclaim the meaning of his name as the story progresses? I’m struck by the fact that he takes the initiative to climb a tree in order to get a better view. There is a certain innocence about this as it may well leave him open to ridicule. In fact, this initiative opens up the possibility of an intimate encounter:

‘Zacchaeus, come down. Hurry, because I must stay at your house today.’ 

Zacchaeus is taken off guard and it may be this that opens his heart. I have a sense that some conversion has already occurred as Zacchaeus ‘hurried down and welcomed him joyfully’. His heart is already sufficiently opened to be able to welcome Jesus and to do it joyfully.

Things only get better as Zacchaeus ‘stands his ground’ against the crowd and puts right all that is wrong in his life. In this encounter Jesus returns Zacchaeus to himself with some of the most consoling words in Scripture: ‘Today salvation has come to this house, because this man too is a son of Abraham; for the Son of Man has come to seek out and save what was lost.’

Zacchaeus can now stand tall. A new chapter in his life begins. He has reclaimed the meaning of his name: he is innocent and clean.

How can you welcome Christ joyfully this week?

Luke 18:9-14

In ‘Witness’, a series of radio plays on Luke’s Gospel by Mark Warburton, the character of Jesus is cast with a Northern accent, and he tells the parable of the Tax Collector and the Pharisee with such gentle humour. I think we often miss the passages in the Bible that would have raised a smile for the first hearers of these well-known stories.

We come to these stories with some inevitable preconceptions and their familiarity can mean we miss the challenge of the story. Several elements in this parable need a little unpacking. Two men go up to the Temple to pray. For Luke’s hearers mention of the Temple would bring to mind a place of very particular focus. New Testament scholar N.T. Wright says of the Temple:

‘The temple was, in Jesus’ day, the central symbol of Judaism, the location of Israel’s most characteristic praxis, the topic of her most vital stories, the answer to her deepest questions, the subject of some of her most beautiful songs.’

Both men know that the Temple is a place where God can be found, and reconciliation can be sought. Both men go to the Temple expecting God to hear their prayer. The two men prayer very different prayers. For Luke’s hearers their sympathy would lie with the Pharisee. Pharisees were respected teachers who followed Torah. The community looked to them to make the ancient teachings relevant to the specific circumstances of their lives. Interestingly Pharisees were not directly associated with the Temple as they were largely village based. They appealed to ordinary people who were trying their best to be faithful to the Torah. Of course, Luke has cast them in a fairly poor light in his Gospel, so we are unlikely to come to this prayer with an open mind. The Pharisee lays out his credentials, which isn’t itself objectionable. There is a school of thought that focuses on his gratitude as well as his self-satisfied tone. Where things do turn is his judgment of the Tax Collector.

By contrast the Tax Collector has no such credentials. His occupation firmly places him under the influence of Rome and not of God’s Kingdom. Luke’s hearers would presume his dishonesty and for this he would be considered sinful. And yet, he still comes to pray. He asks for mercy. The shocking part of the parable comes in the next line: ‘This man, I tell you, went home at rights with God; the other did not.’ God’s mercy cannot be fitted into our categories, no matter how noble and theologically watertight we think they might be.

This parable leaves me with the unsettling feeling that I am capable of being both Pharisee and Tax Collector. Both prayers have something to teach me about how I come before God and what I ask of him.

What would your prayer to God be?

Luke 18:1-8

I often hope that the Sunday Gospel will be ‘my bread’ for the week ahead. I have my own work to do in this by engaging with the text. I hope to be inspired and challenged.

This week’s text of the Unjust Judge presents me with a huge challenge. Luke has framed the parable for us: ‘Jesus told his disciples a parable about the need to pray continually and never lose heart.‘ So, I read the parable, expecting to learn something about prayer. Luke has also framed the judge for by saying ‘has neither fear of God nor respect for man.’ We know that this figure is not there to inspire us.

The figure of the widow however is a little enigmatic. Classically the widow is someone whom the Torah commands us to protect: ‘Whenever you are reaping the harvest of your field and you leave some grain in the field, don’t go back and get it. Let it go to the immigrants, the orphans, and the widows so that the Lord your God blesses you in all that you do.‘ (Deut 24:19)

But there are also many examples of widows who were fearless in the face of adversity: Tamar, Ruth, Abigail and Judith. Our parable gives us no indication of the status of the widow. New Testament Scholar, Amy J Levine comments:  

‘The widow might well be destitute, oppressed and desperate. She may also be wealthy, powerful and vengeful. Or she may be somewhere in between.’

We are being encouraged to keep an open mind so as to let the parable speak to us. The widow’s persistence is clear and some scholarly opinion highlights the fact that she ‘kept on coming to him’ and this suggests that she had the time and means to do this.

That the Judge eventually gives in is attributed to the widow’s persistence but also to the fact that the judge is worried about being worn down: ‘Maybe I have neither fear of God nor respect for man, but since she keeps pestering me, I must give this widow her just rights, or she will persist in coming and worry me to death.’ There is another possible translation of ‘worry me to death’ that reads ‘give me a black eye’. This detail shifts things for me. Be persistent, yes, but threaten a black eye, I’m not comfortable with this.

Amy J Levine suggests that neither the judge nor the widow are likeable and that the parable doesn’t resolve in the way that most do. There’s no appeal to mercy or compassion. Instead, the legal decision is based not on merit but on threat.

As the dust settles on my wrestling with the text, I am drawn back to the opening line of the parable: ‘pray continually and never lose heart.‘ In the week ahead God invites me to make this a reality in my life.

What is God’s invitation to you in this parable?

Luke 17:11-19

In this week’s Gospel we enter the third and final section of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem. Luke gives us a geographical marker:

On the way to Jerusalem Jesus travelled along the border between Samaria and Galilee.

Scholarly opinion differs as to how accurate this description might be but what is certain is that Jesus is heading to Jerusalem, the city of salvation.

The story of the Ten Lepers is a story only recorded by Luke. It is a moment of encounter which gives us a window into the whole story of salvation. It is striking that in all the stories of healing in Gospels the person who seeks healing finds some way of presenting themselves to Jesus. It might be by calling out, or by touching his garment or by being lowered through the roof by friends. The initiative is always with the person who wants healing. Jesus doesn’t impose his healing on anyone. 

Jesus is met by a group of lepers who find themselves physically and spiritually marginalised. They keep their distance but take the initiative: ‘Jesus! Master! Take pity on us.’ They don’t ask to be healed, cured or cleansed. What they ask for is mercy. There’s no ritual or touching involved, they are simply sent on their way to show themselves to the priests and as they go realise that they have been cleansed.

Much is understandably made of the one leper who comes back to thank Jesus. It’s easy for us to draw from this the importance of gratefulness etc. What is of interest to me is that Jesus doesn’t ask the Samaritan to go and get the other nine and shame them into gratefulness. (We have all surely had this happen to us as children and perhaps as adults.) The nine are left free. I like to imagine that in the days to come, as they adjust to their new reality, something stirs inside them, and space is made for gratefulness and praise. They’d be unlikely to be able to catch Jesus up and thank him personally. But perhaps they now look for opportunities to show mercy to others?

Where is God calling you to show mercy this week?

Luke 17:5-10

In the opening of his Rule St Benedict makes an invitation to anyone who is serious about seeking God: ‘Is there anyone here who yearns for life and desires to see good days?‘ To those who respond he says:

‘See how the Lord in his love shows us the way of life. Clothed then with faith and the performance of good works, let us set out on this way with the Gospel for our guide.’ Benedict’s invitation is Gospel based and very clear. He intends to establish a ‘school of the Lord’s Service’.

These past weeks our Gospel texts have provided us with ‘a school of Discipleship’. With words and images our minds have been focussed on the cost of following Christ in suffering and glory. The opening verses of this chapter give the disciples a series of warnings: don’t be the cause of someone else’s fall, deal with wrongdoing and forgive, forgive several times a day if it is needed. The disciples’ response to these warnings is to ask Jesus to increase their faith. Jesus replies with yet another challenging statement:

‘Were your faith the size of a mustard seed you could say to this mulberry tree, “Be uprooted and planted in the sea,” and it would obey you.

This increase of faith is vital if the disciples are to fulfill the demands of discipleship. The scene that Jesus now paints is of uncompromising commitment. The servant has both outdoor and indoor work. All of the work requires energy and attention to detail. In my own monastic life, I remember the feeling of a morning spent harvesting spinach (you had to do this squatting) and then coming inside to be the server at lunch. That thirty minutes on my feet serving lunch could feel like the last straw and there were still several hours of the day left. Then there was the grim reality of this being nothing out of the ordinary. It was just what was expected.

The servant’s work of shepherding, ploughing and waiting at table is taken up by the Early Church as literally and metaphorically describing the work of the apostles. Some commentators suggest that there may have been some tension between the ‘indoor and the outdoor’. Fairly quickly the apostles designate deacons to wait on tables.

There is no way round it: discipleship asks everything we have.

In this past week where Has Christ called you to shepherd, plough and wait on tables.?

Daniel 7:9-10,13-14
Psalm 137
John 1:47-51

When I was in the third form in secondary school, we had an innovative head of year. She was a very zany dresser, combining full length fake mink coats with yellow wellies. Just seeing her outfits always gave me a lift. Her assemblies were memorable too. She used to play music as 180 girls filed in and took their places.

My favourite track was Abba, I believe in Angels.

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail.
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I’ll cross the stream, I have a dream.

Today’s feast invites us ‘ to see the wonder’ of God’s power in our lives and to have hearts open to ‘something good in everything we see’. Listening to the Scriptures will help us to do this. In the first reading from the Book of Daniel we might imagine ourselves as part of the heavenly court. We might be filled with awe as we take our place with the ‘ten thousand times ten thousand’. Or we might sit with Nathaniel and hear the promise that we will see ‘heaven laid open and, above the Son of Man, the angels of God ascending and descending.’

These images come from realms that aren’t always easy for our imaginations to access. But what we can access are the many ways in which God can come to us in the ordinary stuff of our lives.

How can you be open to something good in everything you see today?

Luke 16:19-31

Week after week the Gospel texts have presented us with a range of challenges. This week’s text is no exception. In the present climate of the cost-of-living crisis and growing concern over fuel prices can the parable of The Rich Man and Lazarus provide some light for our path?

At first sight the parable is a warning about riches and the fate of those whose earthly life focused on wealth alone. Luke uses the framework of a well-known Egyptian folktale to begin his parable. His hearers will know that there will be a reversal of fortunes. With all the skill of a story-teller Luke paints a picture of Lazarus’ desperate situation. The writing is vivid. It makes my hair stand on end.

And at his gate there lay a poor man called Lazarus, covered with sores, who longed to fill himself with the scraps that fell from the rich man’s table. Dogs even came and licked his sores.

In the very next line of the text all is made right as Lazarus enjoys bliss in ‘the bosom of Abraham.’ The rich man’s fate is described equally vividly. There is to be no bliss for the rich man. We have no doubt where our sympathies lie. The Rich man’s arrival in Hades doesn’t prompt him to examine his heart, but rather he wants Lazarus to ease his suffering. He has missed an opportunity for conversion. In stories such as A Christmas Carol and It’s Wonderful Life the main characters get a chance to put things right. There is no such second chance in this parable. Not only is there no second chance, but there is a gulf that cannot be crossed:

…between us and you a great gulf has been fixed, to stop anyone, if he wanted to, crossing from our side to yours, and to stop any crossing from your side to ours.

In the second half of the parable the rich man pleads on behalf of his brothers. Some scholars suggest that this is the main point of the parable and that it should be called the Parable of the Six Brothers. Herein lies the tragedy: not only is the Rich Man suffering in Hades but he has five brothers who are just like him. They live lives of luxury and block out God’s Word.

When a parable presents us with stark contrasts it is easy for us to see the path we would hope to be taking. In our daily lives the path might not be so clear. It might not be wealth or luxury that blocks out God’s Word in our lives. We may have created a gulf with other things and now find we cannot cross. This parable gives us a chance to examine our hearts and reorient ourselves.

There’s no doubt that we are witnessing an ever-widening gulf between the rich and the poor. Just as we wish for a change of heart for those who have power and influence, so too we must be ready to change our own hearts.

Where is God calling you to a change of heart?

Luke 16:1-13

When we listen to the parables of Jesus it can be easy to forget the urgency in his preaching. A new age is dawning and Jesus himself is the embodiment of the Kingdom he preaches. This Kingdom offers both promise and challenge.

These past weeks we have listened to Luke outlining his theology of the kingdom and the cost of discipleship. This week Jesus addresses his own disciples. The mood shifts and what unfolds is a parable that seems to raise more questions than it answers. When a steward is accused of being wasteful with his master’s property, he hatches a plan to save his own skin and preserve his master’s honour too. He calls his master’s debtors together and reduces the amount of oil and grain that are owed. The debtors are relieved, the steward keeps his job and even the master is pleased with the way things were handled. The master praises his dishonest steward for his astuteness.

Some scholars suggest that this difficult parable is best understood in the light of the Prodigal Son in Luke 15. There is one clear linguistic parallel and some structural parallels too. The prodigal son ‘squanders’ his inheritance, the steward is accused of being ‘wasteful’ with his master’s property. It is the same word in Greek. Both talk to themselves and work out a plan. The prodigal son plans to return home and hopes to be treated as one of his father’s hired men. The steward hopes his plan will ensure that there will be people to welcome him into their homes. For the prodigal son his modest hope is met with an outpouring of compassion and a lavish homecoming. For the steward it’s his own ‘forgiving’ of debts which earns him his master’s praise.

Both parables challenge me to draw closer to a God whose ways I can’t fully understand. Both parables contain a promise of mercy in what might seem to be the most complicated of circumstances. If I can remain open to both the challenge and the promise, then the parables have done their work. I am living in the light of the kingdom.

Where is Christ calling you to live in the light of the Kingdom?

Luke 15:1-32

We’ve become accustomed to hearing the three parables of the Lost Sheep, the Lost Coin and the Lost Son together. Luke’s narrative skill invites us into each scene, and we almost have no choice but to respond. With each parable the invitation goes deeper. We know these stories so well.

If you are preaching today or listening to a sermon there’s sure to be something said about repentance, mercy and God. We need this message more than ever in our world today. But there’s something else which links these parables: each scene ends in an invitation to rejoice and celebrate. Each parable encapsulates that special joy you feel when you find something which you thought you had lost. To feel that joy you need first to have noticed that something was missing. Then you need to go in search of it. In Luke’s parables this joy finds communal expression. I have always loved the phrase ‘Rejoice with me!’ Joy is almost always doubled when you invite others to share it.

These parables all speak to me of the centrality of celebration in the story of our salvation. The quality of our love and mercy are mirrored in our capacity to rejoice and to celebrate. I’ve come to value the people in my life who naturally rejoice or who make the simplest of gatherings a celebration.

Are things in this past week for which you can say ’Rejoice with me’?