Monday 26 September 2016

Transforming Church, Transforming Lives


The text of a sermon preached on Sunday 25th September; the texts were 1 Timothy 6:19 and Luke 16:19-3. The Diocese of Guildford has launched its mission and vision strategy - Transforming Church, Transforming Lives - which includes twelve transformation goals. For more information, follow this link:http://www.cofeguildford.org.uk/about/transforming-church-transforming-lives

At the Cathedral, we are praying for parishes, schools and chaplaincies; and discerning the part we play in being a resource for that work. We pray in order to resource ourselves to play our part in the building up of God's Kingdom.  As Bishop Andrew says: 'God - Father, Son and Holy Spirit - is in the business of transforming individuals and communities, as we have the joyful privilege of joining in.'



The name Alan Scrase probably won't mean much to you.

Alan is a banknote collector; so the newly issued polymer notes were of particular interest to him. On his second visit to the bank, he was excited to discover that three of his new five pound notes had the sought after AA01 serial numbers. On the internet auction site, Ebay, they fetched £460!

What would you do - or have you done - with your first plastic fiver? The aptly named Johnny Five - a fundraising consultant - announced on Twitter that he'd given his to charity. The hashtag #firstfiver led to an impromptu social media campaign; as others joined in naming the charities which would benefit in tangible ways from an intentional act of kindness.

Some have likened the new note to Monopoly money. Perhaps that's not a bad way to begin to critique the illusion of wealth addressed in today's readings. Indeed, at last week's interfaith peace gathering in Assisi, Archbishop Justin said this: 'our money and wealth is like the toy money in a children's game: it may buy goods in our human economies that seem so powerful, but in the economy of God it is worthless'.

How we use our money matters inasmuch as it reveals our character and can express values of God's kingdom; but it is the mercy of God which quenches our thirst and satisfies our desires.  As Pope Francis commented: 'We are to drink daily of that mercy in order to overcome our sin and anger, and to bear mercy to others.'

This resonates with the story Jesus told about Lazarus and the rich man.  One longed for his hunger to be satisfied; the other longed for his tongue to be cooled. At a first reading or hearing, it makes us uneasy because it seems to suggest a simple reversal of roles. Life was unfair to Lazarus when compared to the luxury of the rich man; but God will balance things out in the next life.

It's more challenging; more transformative than that.

Jesus' "pearly gates" tale is intriguing: it's a useful scenario in making judgements about public life and personal lifestyle Contemporary humour does the same - you know the kind jokes involving a conversation with St Peter and a politician, pastor, atheist or accountant.

Today's parable is a vivid picture of our world; where the inequality between rich and poor reflects a fundamental injustice. Developing the x, y and z of a comprehensive economic policy which achieves sustainability and equity is huge task; and yet, the church is called to have a vision of how we hold together a commitment to justice with income generation - at a micro and macro level.

Transformation is possible. Archbishop Justin's challenge to Wonga and exorbitant pay day loan rates is an example of institutional shifts within and beyond church. Canon Andrew explored with us last Sunday how we might engage at a personal level (his sermon can be read here :http://canonandrewb.blogspot.co.uk/?spref=tw Here at the Eucharist we move from worshipping and serving mammon to take our place within a sacramental economy: an economy of grace and transformation, which enables us to be bearers of mercy.

In recognising that all we have is God's, we're already caught up in the process of transformation. Our faithfulness to God means using all that's entrusted to us with love.  We cannot, like the rich man, ignore the demands of mercy and generosity. The rich man's indifference, self-indulgence and arrogance is dehumanising; yet it's Lazarus who's named and remembered as one whose human dignity calls forth compassion.

This pearly gates story expands our imaginations by presenting a stark challenge to us: but what does that look like for us?  In his letter to Timothy, Paul sets out memorable 'soundbites' which we can take to heart and reflect on. It alerts us to or dependence on God's generous love; which in turn enables us to be generous.

We brought nothing into this world, we can take nothing out. Rather than getting caught up in the pursuit of transient riches and the desires of this world, we find contentment by placing our attention on God. Such contentment goes hand in hand with the pursuit of what is good, right and just; our lives begin to radiate patience, love, gentleness and endurance. We are draw on God's mercy; transforming our hearts that we might be merciful.

This is life that really that really is life.
This is the transformative dynamic of God's economy.

Such transformation is at the heart of our diocesan vision: we are all called in our own contexts and places of work, to respond to the world of God's Spirit so that we might be channels of God's love - gradually transforming the world around us. We will be aware that we face challenging times in our nation and across the world.  As a pilgrim people we share in God's transforming work. It's not just how we use our first fiver, but how in the power of the Spirit, we reveal the transforming love of God made manifest in Jesus Christ? What does that look like decision by decision, breath by breath?



Churches across our diocese will be launching our vision and transformation goals this morning: making disciples, improving buildings, sharing expertise, encouraging generosity and nurturing education.

As the body of Christ in this place we share in that vision: we are facing a period of disruption because we are restoring our building and making it accessible; we nurturing education with a new programme for schools, families and adult learning; our public lectures reach out to those of faith and goodwill seeking the Spirit's gift of wisdom.

How might a vision of transforming church and transforming lives shape our priorities, our worship, our budget, our learning together and our common life?

Feed your reflections into conversations with Chapter and talk about it over coffee. But for us to be a resource to others, we need to resource ourselves: As the body of Christ in this place, our first calling is to pray in the power of the Spirit:

Almighty God, you sustain us with your life

and transform creation with your love.

May we always rest in you,

that the world might know your healing power,

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.



Julie Gittoes 2016  ©





Saturday 10 September 2016

Help!

This is a text of a sermon preached at Evensong on Sunday 4 September: the readings were Isaiah 43:14-44:5; John 5:30-end.  Perhaps it's because as a cathedral we are in the midst of a period of refurbishment of the building and disruption to familiar patterns of life, that the 'key' to these passages seemed to me to be 'help'. Whatever our situation or season of life, there are moments when we cry out (silently perhaps) for help: to God, to others or within our own hearts. To help and be helped, takes us to the depth of our humanity - where in love and vulnerability we re-learn patters of dependence and freedom.  May the cries of our hearts be heard.

My help cometh even from the Lord; who hath made heaven and earth.

Help!

A single word which signals so much about our human condition: we make life easier for one another when we help out with ordinary household chores; we might improve a situation by offering help in the form of mentoring, feedback or other assistance. Help is woven into our discourse about our common life: Help for heroes and help to buy; helplines to smooth out glitches in our hi-tech lives - fixing our broadband or rescheduling a flight; helplines staffed hour by hour to offer confidential support in the face of abuse or mental distress.

Help!

It echoes in so many registers: commanding, pleading, longing and crying.


There's an intimacy to language of help. It reveals our vulnerability; our co-dependence. It undercuts our self-sufficiency, our omni-competence. Perhaps The Beatles were right: when we were younger, we 'never needed anybody's help in anyway; but now these days are gone, [we're] not so self assured. Now [we] find [we've] changed out mind and opened up the doors'.

It can be offered instinctively, yet it's hard to ask for.  Perhaps there's a fear of been refused; or being manipulated. But as life changes; when we feel insecure, giving and receiving help can be transformative. When we're feeling down; when we appreciate someone being round. 'Help me get my feet back on the ground, won't you please, please help me'.

Lennon and McCartney sing if needing somebody; not just anybody; but for the psalmist, that desire finds a very precise focus.  Regardless of age or circumstance; help is rooted in the Lord. More than that, it an expression of faith which acknowledges that the Lord is the one who preserves life itself.

Isaiah also expresses words of hope rooted in the conviction that God is our help. He addresses a community in exile; a people who'd confronted the consequences of the failure to walk faithfully in the ways of the Lord. Help for them takes the form of healing, salvation, liberation and restoration.  It's profoundly intimate and radically transformative.

'Thus says the Lord who made you, who formed you in the womb and will help you': do not fear; sins and shortcomings are blotted out; the spirit is poured out in blessing. A new thing comes into being. God is our help. Don't be afraid. God is with them. God is with you. God is with us.

That with-us-ness of God in the person of Jesus is the ultimate expression of God's help. John's Gospel uses the ordinary stuff of water, bread, light, wine to express the abundance of such love. John recounts Jesus descriptions of himself as a good shepherd and the true vine. We hear of conversations with a teacher of the law under the cover of darkness and a Samaritan woman in the glare of the midday sun. He piles on the images and metaphors to such an extent that the disciples say at one point - perhaps with a hint of sarcasm - that Jesus is speaking plainly.

The passage we hear tonight, is perhaps one where we, like the disciples, struggle to make sense: yet, this monologue tells us both who Jesus is and also reminds us of our need for help.

To set it in context, this passage comes at the end of a chapter full of life and transformation; a chapter full of challenge and controversy. In the first place, Jesus offers help to some of the most dispossessed, broken and rejected people in Jerusalem. He brings healing to the sick - including a paralysed man who's been crushed by despair; who has no one to help him.

Jesus healed him - telling him to take up his bed and walk. He helped him. He gave him new life.

He did so on the sabbath day: a day when people were invited to rest and give time to God.  Those in positions of power and privilege were disturbed and angered by what they saw - a man carrying his mat. They had so narrowly interpreted the law that rather than rejoicing in this sign of freedom, the Pharisees condemned it as work. Jesus' response was to help them too: to explore with the nature of God's work with them; to reveal that he and his heavenly Father were working to bring life. In love for them, Jesus begins with what they know: the scriptures, the law of Moses.

Jesus is one with us; he is one with God. He is perfect communion with God. He is the beloved Son, doing all that his Father wills. Life and love flows from them. Our help comes from God who made heaven and earth; who formed us in the womb; who dwelt among us.

Jesus enters into conversation to help them. He sees their fear and their hardness of heart; he names their prejudice and rigid interpretations. It's as if he invites them to respond at a deeper level - attending to the new thing springing forth. Jesus points them to the glory of God at work in him; and therein lies the challenge.

We, just as much as the Pharisees, can get caught up in a chain reaction revealing our own fears and prejudices. Like them, there are times when we seek our own glory or turn in on ourselves; times when we cling to our certainties and miss the grace of God bubbling up in the unexpected places. Yet when we risk response to God, drawing on divine help, we share in the depth of love; becoming channels of help. We proclaim the transformed life of the kingdom.

May the Spirit kindle in us a desire to cry out for help to the one who in Christ, reveals life and love. Or, as Jean Vanier put it:

Jesus came to heal us.
He is calling us
to come out from behind the barriers built up
around our vulnerable hearts
so that we may have life and give life.


© Julie Gittoes 2016