Visitation

Address given in St Mary's Nenagh on Sunday 29th May 2016, celebrating the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary (transferred).

Luke’s story of Mary visiting Elizabeth (Luke1:39-56) is so charming, so human, isn’t it!

Mary was probably quite a young girl - a teenager even – when the angel came to tell her that she is to be the mother of God incarnate. When Mary says, ‘How can this be, since I am a virgin?’, the angel offers her a sign: her relative Elizabeth is already 6 months pregnant, though she is old and supposedly barren. Is Elizabeth a cousin or an aunt? We’re not told.

So Mary hot-foots it from Nazareth to the Judean hill-country to visit Elizabeth and see for herself. It must have been a tough journey, over 100 km on foot or perhaps on a donkey, over bad roads and steep rocky hills. But Mary gets there safely and knocks on Elizabeth’s door.

When Elizabeth hears Mary’s greeting her unborn child – who we know as John the Baptist - does an in utero backflip in recognition of the presence of the Son of God, freshly conceived in Mary’s womb. Elizabeth exclaims, in the words we know from the “Hail Mary”, ‘Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb!’

And then Mary breaks into song, the song of joy that we call the Magnificat, ‘My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour, for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.’

I know I’m treading on somewhat dangerous ground here!

I’m part of that 50% of the human race which is less qualified to say anything about pregnancy and childbirth than the other 50%. But because I’ve been closely associated with two pregnancies and three births I know that pregnancy is a time of great expectation. So much so that in our culture to say a woman is ‘expecting’ is a euphemism for pregnancy – ‘a baby’ is simply understood.

Elizabeth and Mary are both ‘expecting’ in this euphemistic sense. But they both also bring another dimension of expectation to their meeting on Elizabeth’s doorstep. Elizabeth has conceived late in life. She is carrying a miracle baby, and she has been told that he will be a great prophet who will prepare the way of the Lord. Mary is carrying even more of a miracle baby, conceived through the Holy Spirit, and she has been told that he will be called the Son of the Most High, and will reign over Israel as the heir of the great King David. Both of them have great expectations for the children they are carrying.

Mary said to the angel who announced her pregnancy, ‘Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word’. In doing so she accepted the unimaginable privilege of forming her son Jesus in her body - as all women who are glad to be pregnant do. The Son of the Most High, the eternal Word of the Father, God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, took human flesh in and from Mary. Jesus the Christ was, quite literally, formed in her while she was ‘expecting’.

Our vocation as Christian disciples is to be ‘expecting’ just as Elizabeth and Mary were.

As Christian disciples, we are called to be pregnant! Whether we are young or old, male or female, single or married, we are called to let Christ be formed in us, just as he was formed in the womb of Mary.

What is it like to be a pregnant disciple, one in whom Christ is being formed? We will be ‘expectant’, always expecting something new, something growing and stirring in us, looking to the future not some unchanging past. As Christ grows in us we will form a deepening relationship with him. We will notice changes for the good in ourselves. We will cultivate habits of worship, prayer and study through which we will discern the different gifts he gives each of us. And he will enable us to use these gifts in his service, whether in ministry within the church or in mission outside it.

All pregnancies end in the fullness of time - in due course Elizabeth gave birth to John the Baptist, and Mary to Jesus the Christ. Their pregnancies lasted around 9 months, but ours as disciples in whom Christ is being formed will last a lifetime. Stretching the analogy to the limit, it is on our deathbed that we as disciples are finally delivered of the Christ we have nurtured. We may pray that the life we deliver will be an example to others of a Christian life, well lived, in the hope of resurrection to eternal life.

And what of the Church? The church too is called to be pregnant!

It is in the nature of the Church to grow disciples. A healthy, fertile church is a pregnant church which nurtures disciples in whom Christ is constantly growing. Remember, Jesus commanded the apostles, ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all nations’. And that can only start with ourselves.

As we mature as disciples – as Christ grows in us – we should expect to see changes in our church communities, changes for the good. We do not know what they will be, but new things will sprout inexorably, organically, in the belly of the church, just as Christ grows in his disciples. Perhaps new forms of vibrant worship will spring up alongside the older traditions so many of us still value. Perhaps groups of disciples will come together, to explore and share different kinds of prayer, or to study how God reveals himself both in scripture and in creation, and report their discoveries back to the rest of us. Perhaps we will together find new ways to nurture one another in faith, to care for one another in love, to welcome the stranger, and to reach out in service to people in need, whoever and wherever they may be.

Those outside the church - family, friends, neighbours and strangers - will see the changes in us, in the way we live our lives, in how we treat others. Some may be annoyed - because our way challenges the way they live their lives. But others will feel compelled to take a closer look, to investigate further, because they see in us something that they hunger and thirst for.

This is how a church community grows, first spiritually as its members grow as disciples, and then numerically as others are attracted to it, become disciples themselves, and in turn grow as disciples as Christ grows in them.

So to finish,

This Feast Day of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary is a time for us all to be ‘expecting’ - to be pregnant disciples as Christ takes form within us.

Let us pray that the Christ-seed the Holy Spirit has planted within us will grow to full term and be delivered, perfectly formed in every way.

And as disciples in this Union of Parishes, let us pray that our church community will grow spiritually and numerically, attracting new disciples who themselves will grow as Christ grows in them.

Persecution

An address given at Templederry, Nenagh & Killodiernan on Sunday 24th April 2016, the 5th of Easter but celebrated as the Feast of St Mark the Evangelist.

Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – bless the bed that I lie on.

I learned this simple child’s bed time prayer from my mother, God bless her, when I was just a toddler. I’ve never forgotten it, and it sprang to mind when I was thinking about St Mark, and what I would say today on his feast day. The prayer names all four evangelists, the four people who wrote the Gospels, through which we learn of Jesus and his teaching. The 2^nd Gospel does not say who wrote it, but according to Papias writing around 100AD the name of the author is Mark – Mark the Evangelist.

St Mark’s is the shortest of the four Gospels. Most scholars believe it was the first to be written, perhaps shortly after the destruction of Jerusalem in 70AD following a Jewish uprising against Rome. Both Matthew and Luke seem to have had his text in front of them when they wrote theirs, since they include many of the same incidents, often in the same words. So we owe special thanks to Mark – without his work so much of Jesus’s life and teaching would be lost to us.

What do we know about Mark? Very little for certain! Two people called Mark are named in the New Testament.

·         First there is John Mark who is mentioned several times in the Acts of the Apostles.  He is the reason for the sharp disagreement between Paul and Barnabas we heard about in today’s 1^st reading (Acts 15: 35-41).

·         Second there is Mark the cousin of Barnabas mentioned in some of Paul’s epistles as a companion of Paul’s during his imprisonment in Rome.

These two Marks are traditionally identified with Mark the Evangelist, though not all scholars agree. Mark – Marcus in Latin – was one of the commonest names in the Roman Empire. We simply can’t be certain that these are the same person as the Evangelist.

Our Egyptian Coptic brothers and sisters in Christ have a tradition that Mark was born in Cyrene in Libya and was martyred in Alexandria, where his relics were venerated. In 828 the reputed relics were stolen by two Venetian merchants and taken to Venice. When St Mark’s Basilica was being built in 1063 they couldn’t be found – until, that is, the Saint himself pointed to the place by sticking an arm out of a pillar.

Some of these traditions are doubtful – and some of them downright fanciful – but does that really matter?

Surely, all that really matters is what Mark tells us about Jesus, and how that speaks to us today.

So let us turn to reflect on what Mark tells us in today’s 3^rd reading (Mark 13: 5-13). The context is this: Jesus has just foretold the destruction of Herod’s magnificent new Temple in Jerusalem. The disciples Peter, James, John and Andrew take him aside to ask privately, ‘How will we know when this will happen?’ Then Jesus replies in the words we have heard. Both Matthew and Luke have almost exactly the same story in their Gospels – no doubt they both got it from Mark.

Jesus knows his likely fate – to be killed by the authorities as an agitator.

He is sure he will rise again, and that his disciples will continue his saving mission. But he realises it is inevitable that there will be false leaders too who will distort his message. So he begins by warning them, ‘Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, “I am he!”’ Christians today must still take care to distinguish between imposters and those who really do come in Christ’s name.  In today’s 2^nd reading (Ephesians 4: 7-16) St Paul suggests a test we can apply: do they equip the community of believers, the church, for the work of ministry as the body of Christ?

Jesus knows that his disciples are worried for the future.

Stories abounded then - as they do now and have always done - about terrible events in different parts of the world. It would be all too easy for his disciples to give up the hope they need to continue his mission. So he reassures them in these words, ‘When you hear of wars and rumours of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birth pangs’ - the start of something new.

Jesus’s words send a shiver down my back, as I think of the frightful news that fills the media – now brought to us in our living rooms on screens as it happens in full colour. But hasn’t it always been like this? My grandparents lived through the horrors of WW1 trench warfare, armed rebellion and internecine civil war. My parents lived through total war in WW2 and survived to bring me into the world. I have contemplated nuclear annihilation during the Cold War and made pathetic plans to protect my family. My children fear dastardly terrorist attacks and are terrified by the prospect of catastrophic climate change.

These fears of ours and people in every age are no more than a sign that the great work of building God’s kingdom is in progress now. All of us who are Jesus’s disciples are called to play their part in it. Christians must not let go of hope for the future.

Jesus’s disciples must proclaim the good news to all people.

But Jesus knows they will meet resistance, and some will face persecution. ‘Beware’, he says, ‘for they will hand you over to councils; and you will be beaten in synagogues; and you will stand before governors and kings because of me, as a testimony to them.’ Nobody can say that Jesus is other than realistic and brutally honest with his disciples. He understands that religious minorities are often made scapegoats, as the first Christians were.  Christians are not being persecuted in Ireland today – but they are in many other places. And not just Christians: other religious minorities are also suffering, among them Muslims.

If this happens to you, says Jesus, ‘do not worry beforehand about what you are to say; but say whatever is given you at that time, for it is not you who speak, but the Holy Spirit.’ Jesus recommends to his disciples that when they face interrogation for their faith they should confront their persecutors directly and frankly. Please God this will never happen to me, but it is surely good advice – tell the truth as the Spirit moves you, as there is nothing to be gained by dissembling and lying at a show-trial.

Some will even face betrayal and death for their faith. ‘Brother will betray brother to death’, says Jesus, ‘and a father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all because of my name.’ But there are worse things than death for a Christian. Worse than death would be the shame of denying our faith. ‘The one who endures to the end will be saved’, says Jesus. If death is to be our fate we should face it bravely, in the knowledge that through it we enter God’s heavenly kingdom, where we will meet Jesus, who died on the cross to show us how it is done.

Let me finish with a prayer for those persecuted and martyred for their faith:

Loving Father God, your Son Jesus Christ suffered and died for us.

In his resurrection he restores life and peace in all creation.

Comfort, we pray, all victims of persecution and those oppressed by their fellow humans.

Remember in your kingdom those who have died for their faith.

Lead the oppressors towards compassion and give hope to the suffering.

Through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Suffering & Redemption

Address given at Templederry, St Mary's, Nenagh and Killodiernan on Sunday 28th February 2016, the 3rd Sunday of Lent, year C.

Over the last week or so I’ve been following two developing news stories.

They’re happening in faraway countries and aren’t likely to affect us much here in Ireland. It would be all too easy to ignore them, amidst all the media focus on our General Election, as well as all the other awful news from around the world. But for some reason I can’t get them out of my mind.

The 1^st is the Zika virus epidemic in South and Central America. Doctors suspect it is causing the simultaneous surge in cases of infant microcephaly – babies born with abnormally small heads, who are likely to suffer a spectrum of life-long intellectual and physical disabilities. Last year at least 2,500 more babies than usual were born with this condition in Brazil alone, and numbers are growing rapidly across the region. Can you imagine what life will be like for these babies as they grow up? What anguish must it be for their parents, and for all the expectant mothers waiting to learn whether their baby is one affected?

The 2^nd is Cyclone Winston in the South Pacific. It struck the islands of Fiji as the strongest ever category 5 storm a week ago. It has destroyed thousands of homes and killed at least 45 people, but we still don’t know the full impact because it has not yet been possible to contact some of the outlying islands. It will take years for this small country of around 850,000 souls to recover. That puts our winter storms and floods in the halfpenny place, doesn’t it?

The UN, governments and aid agencies around the world are springing into action to help these unfortunate people. We too must be ready to help if asked. In the meantime let us pray for them, that they may receive the help they need and feel Christ’s healing touch.

Why, oh why does God permit such suffering to occur? 

Surely, if God were both good and almighty he would eliminate suffering from his creation. But we know that suffering exists – there isn’t one of us who hasn’t personally suffered something, sometime, is there? Can it possibly be true that God is both good and almighty? This is what philosophers and theologians call ‘the problem of suffering’ or the ‘problem of pain’.

Jesus confronts this problem of suffering in today’s Gospel reading (Luke 13:1-9).

People tell him ‘about the Galileans whose blood Pilate mingled with their sacrifices’, and in response he reminds them of ‘those eighteen who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them’. We have very little clue just what these two events were about, but we can take it that they were two disasters that were part of the news of the day that people were talking about, much like the Zika virus epidemic and Cyclone Winston for us.

Jesus knows that many people, then as now, think that if bad things happen to people it must be because they are bad – God must be punishing them for sin, for breaking God’s law. So he asks rhetorically ‘Do you think that because these Galileans suffered in this way they were worse sinners than all other Galileans? Do you think that (the victims at Siloam) were worse offenders than all the others living in Jerusalem? 

No, I tell you’, says Jesus, answering his own question. Suffering and disasters are not punishments from a loving God. They are just the inevitable other side of the coin to the joy and delights of the wonderful life God has given us.

‘But unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did’, he continues. One thing we all know for sure is that we will die. But I don’t think Jesus is talking here about physical death – this perishing is a spiritual perishing - being and feeling far from God’s love. Jesus is repeating the central message of his ministry, his call to repentance. We sometimes have the wrong idea about repentance. It is not about going around with a long face carrying a corrosive burden of guilt saying ‘Oh woe is me!’ Rather repentance is about admitting to ourselves that the way we are living is wrong and determining to change ourselves for the better. A second thing we all should know is that we need to repent. If we repent, God who loves us forgives us, removes the burden of guilt and brings us close to him.

Jesus then tells the parable of the barren fig tree.

It’s a charming, earthy story, isn’t it? A fig tree planted in a vineyard is not producing fruit. The owner of the vineyard says to the gardener, “See here! For three years I have come looking for fruit on this fig tree, and still I find none. Cut it down! Why should it be wasting the soil?” The gardener replies, “Let it alone for one more year, until I dig round it and put manure on it. If it bears fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down.”

The owner quite reasonably suggests the barren tree should be cut down, but the gardener pleads for it to be given a second chance, and promises to nurture it.

This is the way God works with us when we do not produce good fruit. With good reason God questions whether we are worth keeping, but Jesus the Son of God intercedes for us and nurtures us. We are given a second chance to come right.

But we should heed Jesus’s warning, the sting in the tail of the parable – the fig tree is given one more year, and we are not given an infinite number of second chances. If we do not respond to the nurturing teaching of Jesus, if we do not start trying to live and bear fruit as God wants us to – if we do not answer his call to repent - we will indeed perish spiritually. And that is a fate worse than any suffering and death.

I confess I don’t know why God permits suffering - and I doubt anybody else does either! 

Could it be that the existence of suffering is simply a necessary logical condition for a creation which can evolve and develop, and in which we can flourish? Perhaps. 

But what I do know is this:

·         God the Father loves each and every one of us.

·         Through Jesus Christ his Son God shares in and understands our suffering.

·         If we allow Jesus’s teaching to nurture us, if we repent and seek to live the lives God wills for us, we will overcome any suffering that may afflict us, and we will experience the reassuring closeness and love of God, in this world and the next.

If you are interested in a Christian approach to the problem of suffering you might find enlightenment in CS Lewis’s book ‘The Problem of Pain’.

My how time flies!

Address given on Ash Wednesday 10th February 2016 at St Mary's, Nenagh (based on a reflection by Sally Foster-Fulton of Christian Aid Scotland in 'Dancing in the Desert - Prayers and reflections for Lent', published by Wild Goose Publications and the Iona Community).

My, how time flies! It seems like only yesterday we were caught up in the great consumer fest of Christmas – the Cadbury’s Roses, the over-priced party food, the booze, the chocolate Santas. But now they’ve been replaced with Creme eggs and chocolate bunnies in the shops, so the consumer festival of Easter is upon us already. We risk missing out on Lent.

Now I don’t mean to sound like a Scrooge - we should leave him behind at Christmas! I have nothing against chocolate – I’m fond of the stuff, and I love a celebration as much as the next man. But if we skip Lent we miss an important opportunity – in danger of being hidden under all these chocolate bunnies and Creme eggs is the ancient call to reflection. The church needs to reclaim it because the world needs it. Lent is a time to rethink, to reconsider, to reflect on where we’re going. Lent is a time, before the celebration of Easter, to consider where some of the paths we follow ultimately lead.

If we head in the direction that money, power, self-interest leads us … where will we end up? If we climb the ladder of success while ignoring the ones around us … where will we find ourselves? If we continue to consume as if there is no tomorrow … what will become of this beautiful planet? Lent is a time to reconsider.

Secular people often say that in an increasingly ‘post religious’ society the church has nothing to offer them. But I say we have this: We have the clarion call to repentance – not the ‘sackcloth and ashes, I am a loathsome sinner’ misunderstanding of repentance, but the ‘turn around, reconsider, redirect yourselves call to a new way of living’.

We could focus this Lent on denying ourselves and thinking pious thoughts, in other words on our own personal salvation. But would that really be any different to buying into the ‘me, me, because I’m worth it’ consumer culture of Creme eggs and chocolate bunnies? Jesus summarises God’s law as ‘love God and love your neighbour as yourself’. So in our Lenten journey we should rather seek to travel with Jesus and live in a way that allows everyone including ourselves to live as full a life as possible.

I hope you have already decided how you will mark Lent, but if not, here are a couple of ideas:
1. You could use Christian Aid’s Count Your Blessings calendar to be inspired to give, act and pray for communities in need. The calendar is an insert in this month’s Newslink, and I’ve left some copies at the back of the church.
2. You could undertake a Carbon Fast for Lent as Green Anglicans in South Africa have suggested. You can read about this in Newslink, and I’ve left copies at the back of the church.

Lent is an opportunity to journey with Jesus and wrestle with yourself. Lent is a time to reconsider, reflect, and redirect your life. Lent is an ancient clarion call to change.

My, how time flies! Before we know it, it will be Easter Day. How will we travel there this year?

The origins of Baptism & Confirmation

Address given at Templederry, Nenagh & Killodiernan on Sunday 10th January 2016, the 1st after Epiphany.

On this 1^st Sunday of Epiphany we celebrate the baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist.

St Luke in today’s Gospel reading (Luke: 3:15-17, 21-22) tells us what happened when John baptised Jesus: ‘When all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And the same event is described in slightly different words in the other three Gospels.

In this striking scene God reveals to us that this man Jesus is his Son, the Beloved. It is also the only scene in the Gospels where we find all three persons of the Trinity – Father, Son and Holy Spirit - together at the same time. It is in fact an epiphany of the Trinity, so it is especially important for all of us Trinitarian Christians.

Luke tells us that John’s baptism was ‘a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’.

John baptised with water those who came to him to signify their repentance – that is, their personal commitment to live in future by God’s standards. God forgives their previous failures to live up to his standards – their sins – which are symbolically washed away in the water.

Since the earliest times, Christians have been puzzled that Jesus came to be baptised by John. After all, the argument goes, Jesus as the Son of God must be without sin, with nothing to repent, so a baptism for forgiveness of sins seems inappropriate. Matthew tells us that the Baptist himself was reluctant to baptise Jesus, but Jesus insisted, saying ‘it is proper for us in this way to fulfil all righteousness’.

For Jews, righteousness meant doing God’s will. Jesus clearly believed God willed him to be baptised by John. But for what purpose? Perhaps so that Jesus would be certain who he was before beginning his ministry. Or perhaps so that John could testify to his Trinitarian vision. But I like to think that God willed Jesus to be baptised in a stunning act of solidarity with sinful people – with you and with me – so that Jesus stands alongside us as we bare our souls in repentance, as our sins are washed away, and as we receive God’s forgiveness.

What about the Christian sacrament of baptism with water as we know it today?

None of the Gospels tell us that Jesus himself baptised anyone, but his disciples certainly did. They did so with his approval while he was alive, as John’s Gospel tells us. John also records Jesus teaching that ‘no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and the Spirit’. And the disciples continued to baptise after his death, following his Great Commission, recorded in Matthew’s Gospel in these words: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”  3000 are said to be have been baptised on the day of Pentecost alone!

Those who came to Christian baptism in the earliest days would have made the same personal commitment to change, in expectation of God’s forgiveness, as those who John baptised. This baptism, like John’s, must surely have been ‘a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’.

But as time passed, baptism with water more and more came to be seen as a ceremony of initiation into the community of believers, the Church. Baptism was essential, Christians felt, because Jesus had said no one could enter the kingdom of God without being born of water. In times when many children died in childhood, Christian parents naturally wanted to make sure their children would join them in the kingdom of God, so they began to baptise infants too. Parents and friends sponsored the infant Christian, making personal commitments on their behalf. The original idea of a ‘baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’ began to fade into the background, perhaps because it is hard to see what sins infants need to repent.

So baptism evolved to become the sacrament of Christian initiation we know today, and the parents and friends became what we call sponsors and godparents.

But surely there is something missing in this baptism as Christian initiation?

In today’s Gospel John the Baptist says ‘I baptise you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming.’ That’s Jesus, of course. ‘He will baptise you with the Holy Spirit and fire’. What has become of Jesus’s baptism with the Holy Spirit and fire?

The apostles were baptised with the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost, just as Jesus had promised them before his ascension. They also experienced tongues of fire – and fire was certainly kindled in their hearts. They went out fired-up to preach the good news of Jesus Christ, which as the Book of Acts tells us spread like wild fire.

The embryonic Church spread despite – or rather because of – persecution. As it grew the apostles found it necessary to appoint assistants, called deacons, one of them a man called Philip. When persecution came the new Christians scattered throughout the countryside of Judea and Samaria, leaving the apostles in Jerusalem. Philip fled to the city of Samaria, where he in his turn preached the good news. Large numbers of people responded and Philip baptised them.

This is the background to today’s 2^nd reading from Acts 8:14-17.

‘When the apostles at Jerusalem heard that Samaria had accepted the word of God, they sent Peter and John to them’. Peter and John were, of course, apostles. In Samaria, we are told, they discovered that the new Christians had not received the Holy Spirit, even though they had been baptised by Philip. Peter and John prayed for them, ‘laid their hands on them, and they received the Holy Spirit’ - in other words they received Jesus’s baptism of the Holy Spirit.

The apostles were faced with the problem of maintaining the unity of the church as it spread away from Jerusalem. Their solution seems to have been to insist that they alone could administer Jesus’s baptism of the Holy Spirit by laying on of hands. As a result Christians in faraway places maintained links with the apostles in Jerusalem.

As the church grew and the original apostles began to grow old and die, they consecrated others they trusted to carry on their work, which included administering the baptism of the Holy Spirit. These others in turn consecrated their successors to do the same, and so on to our own day.

Their successors are what we now call bishops. The line of succession we call apostolic succession. And the sacrament of confirmation is Jesus’s baptism with the Holy Spirit, administered by a bishop in apostolic succession laying his hands on a person seeking confirmation.

So to conclude, as we celebrate the baptism of Jesus:

First, let us give thanks for the insight we receive into the nature of God as Trinity from the epiphany of Father, Son and Holy Spirit at Jesus’s baptism by John.

Second, let us give thanks for the sacrament of baptism with water, which builds on John’s baptism, to mark our incorporation into Christ’s body the Church, whether as infants or adults.

And third, let us give thanks for the sacrament of confirmation, through which we are born again as we receive Jesus’s baptism of the Holy Spirit, to inspire us and put fire in our hearts to work for his kingdom.

Apocalypse

We are living in a time of great insecurity and many of us are afraid.

Only a fortnight ago we watched with horror images of the carnage Islamic State terrorists wreaked in Paris. They brought home to us in Europe a little of what people in Syria and Iraq have been suffering. This is the latest manifestation of the bitter conflict between Sunni and Shia Islamic traditions that has been devastating the Middle East for more than a generation, since the Iran-Iraq war began in 1980.

One consequence has been millions of people displaced as refugees. Most live in camps inside the countries affected, or in neighbouring countries, which struggle to feed and house them with insufficient help from the global community. More and more refugees have given up hope of a decent life where they are, or of ever returning home in safety. These are the hundreds of thousands of men, women and children we have seen this year, travelling to find sanctuary in Europe, crammed into unsafe boats, drowned on Mediterranean beaches, trudging along railway lines and motorways, or camped in make-shift reception centres. We have not seen such movements of people in Europe since the end of WW2. They are desperate, they are determined, they are unstoppable – we cannot push them back into the sea, nor can we shoot at them until they go away.

As European citizens we are worried how we will feed and house so many, and what social changes they will bring. Since most of them are Muslim – though many are Christian – extreme nationalism and Islamophobia are on the rise. Increasingly we hear strident voices claiming refugees are probably Islamic terrorists, and that Islam is an irredeemable religion of violence. Yet for all but a tiny percentage of Muslims, Islam is a religion of peace. Just like us, they want to make a decent living, raise their families in peace, and contribute to the communities they live in. Before we demonise Islam, let us remember the European Wars of Religion at the time of the Reformation, when Catholic fought Protestant in bloody conflicts that lasted for more than a century. Does that make our Christianity a religion of violence?

And then there is the crisis of climate change. We know that to avert the worst effects we will have to make great changes in how we live now. But we do not yet understand what those changes will be, so we are afraid of what we may have to give up, and at the same time we are afraid of the world our descendants will inherit if we do not change.

No wonder we worry about the future – our own, our children’s, our grandchildren’s, and if we are lucky our great-grandchildren's. We are afraid, and I think we are right to be. We are living in apocalyptic times.

Luke records Jesus speaking of apocalypse in today’s Gospel reading (Luke 21:25-36).

 ‘There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and waves’, Jesus says. ‘People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken. Then they will see “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” with power and great glory.’

The original meaning of the Greek word ‘apocalypse’ is a prophetic disclosure, a revelation, though in modern English we now usually mean a great catastrophe that results in widespread destruction or the collapse of civilisation.

Jesus’s words are a prophetic disclosure, an apocalypse in the original sense. They are in a literary tradition reaching back into OT times - “the Son of Man coming in a cloud” is actually a quotation from the apocalyptic Book of Daniel. The tradition reaches forward to the NT book we call Revelation. And from there through medieval visions of the last judgement, to modern science fiction fantasies of disaster.

Is Jesus forecasting in these words that the world will end in catastrophic violence, an apocalypse in the modern sense? There are Christian fundamentalists who look forward to the second coming of Christ amid awful battles and destruction in the end-time. They may believe so, but I don’t. They take scripture too literally, and I think they are deeply, deeply misguided. Rather I suggest that Jesus intended his words to apply to every time, not just to an end-time.

Perhaps his parable is a clue: ‘Look at the fig tree and all the trees; as soon as they sprout leaves you can see for yourselves and know that summer is near.’ Trees sprout new leaves every year – the image is of something that happens again and again, not just once at the end.

And it is true, isn’t it, that every generation is faced with its own apocalyptic fears. We may be terrified by terrorism and the refugee crisis, and of the consequences of climate change. But my parents were haunted by the horror and destruction of total war and nuclear holocaust. Their parents suffered the horrors of the trenches followed by bloody rebellion and fratricidal civil war. And every previous generation has lived through its own nightmares – famines, plagues, wars and social collapse.

Jesus tells us to read clearly the frightening signs of the times, but his message is surely one of hope as we confront our fears - hope for us and for every generation that hears his words. ‘So also, when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.’ Even if these things are terrifying. ‘Stand up and raise your heads’, he tells us, ‘because your redemption is drawing near’.

The basis of our hope is the miracle of the Incarnation.

This is the first day of Advent, the time each year when we look forward to the Incarnation; the miracle that God has chosen to be part of the world he created, our world; the miracle that God has taken on our flesh in a stunning act of solidarity with his creatures. We wait in expectation for the kingdom of God and our redemption to come near.

On Christmas day Jesus will be born as the helpless baby son of Mary and Joseph into a frightening world. A Roman imperial decree forces his parents to travel from their home to Bethlehem. There they find no shelter but a stable in which Mary gives birth. And soon they will be forced to flee as refugees from Herod’s violent wrath. Mary and Joseph have to confront their own fears just as we must.

But through the eyes of faith we will see this helpless child grow up to be ‘“the Son of Man coming in a cloud” with power and great glory’, who announces the kingdom of God and promises us redemption. ‘Heaven and earth will pass away’, he says, ‘but my words will not pass away’.

Jesus urges us, ‘Be alert at all times, praying that you may have the strength to escape all these things that will take place, and to stand before the Son of Man.’ It is through praying that we will find the strength and confidence to endure - and we may hope avert - the worst the future can bring, so that we can stand fearlessly in front of our God in his Kingdom.

So I shall finish with a prayer:

Loving Father,

Who sent your Son Jesus Christ

to proclaim your kingdom

and restore the broken to fullness of life:

Look with compassion on the anguish of the world and of your people;

Give us the strength to overcome our fears

And to stand before the Son of Man;

Through Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer.

Amen

Second chances

Address given at Templederry and Nenagh on Sunday 8th November 2015, the 3rd before Advent, year B

This morning I want to reflect on our 1^st reading (Ruth 3:1-5, 4:13-17), the story of Naomi, Ruth and Boaz.

First let’s remind ourselves who these three characters are.

Naomi and her husband, with their two sons, had left their home in Bethlehem years before for the land of Moab to escape a famine – they were refugees. Naomi’s husband died there, and then her two sons who had married Moabite women died as well. Naomi had lost her whole family. And she decided to go back to her home place, Bethlehem. But Ruth, one of her daughters-in-law and a Moabite foreigner, insisted on going with her. She said, ‘Where you go, I will go; where you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people, and your God my God’. Ruth must have loved Naomi very much.

It was the time of the barley harvest when Naomi and Ruth got to Bethlehem. It was a Jewish tradition to leave the corn in the corners of the fields to be harvested by the poor – this was called gleaning. Ruth went out into the fields to glean to support both of them. There she met Boaz, the owner of a field, who was a relative of Naomi’s late husband – that’s important as we shall see. Boaz had heard about all that Ruth was doing to support Naomi, and praised her for it. And because he was a kind man, he made sure that Ruth was able to glean enough for two of them without being harassed. This is where today’s reading begins.

I found the reading rather odd when I first looked at it – perhaps you did too.

It sounds almost as if Naomi puts Ruth up to seducing Boaz, tricking him into marrying her! But that is only because the reading jumps from ch3 v5 to ch4 v13 - for some reason the good compilers of the lectionary have missed out an important piece of the story.

To understand what really happened we need to understand a Jewish tradition, called ‘levirate marriage’. In this case, if a married man died without leaving children, his next of kin - his brother or another close relative - could choose to marry his widow, and this was seen as a good and righteous thing to do. It kept the property in the family, it ensured the future of the widow, and any children of the marriage would be treated as children of the dead husband.

No doubt Naomi could see how Boaz was attracted to Ruth. So she sends Ruth to ask Boaz if he would marry her in this way, to provide her with security. Ruth uncovers his feet and lies down beside him, and when Boaz wakes she says to him, ‘Spread your coat over your servant, for you are next of kin’. She is seeking his protection. And Boaz wants to marry her, but he tells Ruth that there is another, closer relative who should have the first refusal - if that man does not wish to marry her, he will. And he is careful to guard her reputation and sends her away with a present.

Boaz is entirely honourable by the standards of his society - and he’s as good as his word. The next day he goes to talk to the closer relative in front of the elders. He establishes that the closer relative does not want to marry Ruth – in fact he persuades him that he shouldn’t. And then Boaz says to the elders, ‘Today you are witnesses that I have acquired from Naomi all that belonged to (her husband and sons). I have also acquired Ruth the Moabite … to be my wife, to maintain the dead man’s name on his inheritance’.

In this way Ruth becomes Boaz’s wife, and with Naomi they live happily ever after. Their son whom Naomi nurses is the grandfather of King David, and an ancestor of our Lord Jesus Christ, through his earthly father Joseph.

It’s a charming story. But why should it have been included in our Bible, and why should we still read it in churches today?

I suggest it is because this very human tale illustrates how God works in individual human lives.

Naomi and Ruth had suffered terrible blows. Naomi had lost her husband and two sons. Ruth had lost her husband. Suddenly they had become impoverished widows dependent on charity. It must have seemed as if the very heavens had fallen in on them.

It would have been so easy for them to give in to depression, to become bitter and angry. But they didn’t. Instead they make the best of their situation, showing their love for each other.

And then good things start to happen. They meet a good man, Boaz, who is attracted by the love they show each other. He wants to help them and sees how he can do so. New life and hope comes into all their lives. They are offered a second chance of happiness. And they take it.

This, surely, is how God will work in our lives, if God forbid dreadful things happen to us. If we hold on to what is good and true and beautiful, even when it seems we have been abandoned, even when we find ourselves in the depths of depression, then suddenly we will notice good things starting to happen. Our spirits will rise and we will start to discern new life and happiness.

I have had my own dealings with loss and depression, and this has been my own experience. The story of Naomi, Ruth and Boaz is a message of hope to hold on to in the most difficult of times.

This is redemption - God redeeming us. This is God acting like our loving Father. In the words of the Benedictus, sung in the temple by Zechariah,

Blessed be the Lord God of Israel,

For he hath visited and redeemed his people,

And hath raised up a mighty salvation for us

In the house of his servant David