A pinch of salt

A sermon preached at the Eucharist on the third Sunday before Lent thinking about what it is to be salt and light. The readings were: Isaiah 58:1-9a, I Corinthians 2:1-12 and Matthew 5:13-20

The format has been described as MasterChef meets Bake Off; with some critics panning it as overdone, derivative and a cooking contest too far.

Nevertheless, each week, I’ve caught up with the contestants on Best Home Cook as they’re put through their paces by Mary Berry, Angela Hartnett and Chris Bavin.

They’re challenged to make the Ultimate meringue, curry of pie before having to Rustle Up a dish from scratch, with a single humble ingredient as the start of the show.

Someone will be sent home after an Eliminator: a fast paced test of technical skill, precision timing and perfect seasoning.

Image: Metro

Inevitability one of the judges will pull a face and dismiss a dish as needing a little more salt; and contests crumble before the culinary heroes; confronted with a hug from Claudia Winkleman.

A pinch of salt makes the food we taste become more fully what it is meant to be: from risotto to soup. 

Salt doesn’t exist for its own sake; nor does light. Flavour and illumination are metaphors that suggest we have purpose in turning towards the world. 

We aren’t to be hidden away or called to be less than ourselves: rather Jesus seems to be telling his followers, our calling is to be a blessing. 

Somehow, when we are fully ourselves, we participate in God’s ways with the world, allowing it to become what it’s called to be too. 

Creation is called into being by and for the love of God. The impact of our own lives is not merely self-satisfaction, but to play our part in this fundamentally connected pattern of life. Commitment to this way of living and loving is directed beyond ourselves to the praise and glory of God; the one whose breath gives us life.

These themes of being called, connected and committed were at the heart of a conference for CofE school leaders last week. 

We may not all be teachers; but we all have a calling. To inhabit that well  - individually and collectively - is an inspiration to others.

Paula Gooder reminded us that first and foremost, God calls you to be you. 

In creation, God calls all things into being: giving names, defining purpose and shaping identity. 

Within that calling to be you, to be called by name, we  discover a call to a longer term role: shaped by our gifts in health care or music, technology or business, as parent or volunteer. 

Within the cope of that work, we are entrusted with particular tasks: what is God inviting us, you and me, to do today?

Whatever we do, we are both dependent on others and needed by them.  

Each Eucharist, we remember that though we are many, we are one body, because we share in one bread.  It was Augustine who coined the phrase, that here we receive what we are and become what we receive: that is the Body of Christ.

It is through the life and movement of this body that the world sees Christ: through the work of our hands, in the places we walk, in the gestures we make.  Our body language says something about the life and love of God - in embrace and protest, hospitality and care, inspiration and joy, kindness and challenge.

What we receive is all we have to offer the world: the life of our Lord Jesus Christ.

In the power of the Spirit, we are to love as God so loved the world.

We are to be salt and light: a living and breathing body, moving in our world.

We are called in a world where all around us there exists a competitive matrix of mis-directed desires: desires to consume and control. The fruit of such desire is greed and oppression, indifference to others for the sake of personal ambition.

Isaiah reminds us that the people of God are susceptible to forgetting their calling and becoming ensnared in these dynamics self-interest and argument and injustice.  As a prophet, Isaiah repeatedly calls people back to the things they have forsaken: love of God and love of neighbour.

The promise of universal restoration remains: words of challenge and rebuke invite us back into a life of calling, connection can commitment; back into ways of love which bring stability and life, rebuilding and flourishing. 

Isaiah gives practical examples of what this way of life looks like, if we cease from finger wagging or blaming others; if we give up on factious and quarrelsome talk: feed the hungry, welcome the homeless, seek what is just and release people from burdens. We might add to that list: reach out to the lonely, teach the young; stand alongside the migrant, show kindness to the fearful.

This way of light and life must be visible: a lamp on a stand, a city on a hill. A light that is dispersed and moving in the world - carried with us like a torch or beacon or lantern. 

Paul describes this calling as one which flows from weakness.  It demands of us a vulnerability which doesn’t cling to worldly status or privilege. Paul knew all too well that we will fail and fall short; and in acknowledging that reminds us that God is greater than all our failures. 

We are called to be ourselves; to be vulnerable and to bless. There are many things which can obscure our vision or disrupt this way of life - our Archbishop spoke on Thursday about tiredness, bereavement and the pressures of immediate crisis.  Then it is our prayer and scriptures which ground us - reminding us that there is strength and grace to be found in God.

The God who dwelt among us, who lived and died for us, also rose again that we might know the power of risen life; that we might know that death does not have the final word.

Symphony of Light

Jesus teaches about being salt and light in the context of his Sermon on the Mount: a set of teachings which go to the heart of what it means to live our lives with attention fixed on God’s love; and which helps us relate to each other in new ways. It is a teaching which brings hope for humanity and for a better world.

This teaching is about the fulfilling law and prophets: in the way Jesus brings into being what the law and prophets promised, drawing us into a deeper of commands to love which require more than outward observance. Instead, this love calls us to attend to weighty matters.

It is about the risk and challenge of loving without limits; of doing justice; being merciful; of learning to practice forgiveness, to liberate ourselves and others by God’s grace. 

It is about whole relationships.

It about being blessed in order to be a blessing. It is about speaking God’s wisdom not with plausible words but with courageous service after the example of Christ; that in the power of the Spirit we might bring hope to our world. In the words of a colleague from the URC, Richard Becher :

You have all been invited at this time to this place

We don’t just want an invitation: We want to be welcomed.

You are all offered a warm welcome to this place

We don’t just want a welcome: We want to have a voice.

You are all welcome and this is a place for listening

We don’t just want a voice: We want it to be heard.

You are all welcome here, and your story will be heard

We don’t only want to be heard: We want to be believed.

You are welcome to this place where no truth is denied

We don’t only want to be believed: We want to be trusted.

You are welcome to this place where your words are accepted

We don’t only want to be trusted: We want to be loved. 

You are welcome to this place where God’s love embraces all 

We don’t only want to be loved: We want to know we belong.

Whoever belongs to God, belongs among us, for we are one in Christ.

© Julie Gittoes 2020

Living radiance

A sermon preached at the Cathedral Eucharist on the Sunday before Lent - a Sunday when we reflect on the transfiguration, radiance in the midst of darkness.  We're given a glimpse of the radiance of God's glory in Christ Jesus; we're called to live out that radiance in the power of the Spirit. Such living radiance is treasure in earthen vessels; it is courageous and vulnerable. The readings were Exodus 34: 29-35; 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2; Luke 9: 28-36

Last Saturday, Olivia Colman - star of Rev, Peep Show and Broadchurch - won an Oscar for her role  in The Favourite.

Oscar Winners: Olivia Colman in Hello

Beyond Colman’s tears, laughter and raspberry blowing; beyond the dazzling radiance of the red carpet, it has been a difficult few years for the Oscars.  Its reputation has been knocked by campaigns such as #MeToo and #OscarsTooWhite.  Viewing figures are declining; there are commercial pressures from Netflix; and our cinematic tastes are becoming more independent, international and diverse. 

But film itself remains compelling.

As the distinguished American critic Roger Ebert once wrote [What makes a masterpiece? The Guardian]: ‘We live in a box of space and time. Movies are windows in its walls. The allow us to enter other minds, not simply in the sense of identifying with the characters… but by seeing the world as another person sees it’.

In the collective safety of the cinema, we share something like an out of body experience. Characters engage us emotionally; their stories enlarge our imaginations; prejudices and assumptions are challenged. The unreality of the performance conveys something real.

During this years Oscars, Bradly Cooper and Lady Gaga left their seats - unannounced - to sing “Shallow”, their award-winning duet from A Star is Born. There followed faced days of speculation that they were actually in love. It was so real yet so unreal.

It’s what they do, as one critic put it [Rhik Samadder inThe Guardian]: ‘it’s acting. They are actors, acting at a ceremony that showcases the best acting’. It demands personal connection, technical discipline and an awareness of cameras. 

They embodied a transformative moment as they had done on set, repeatedly.

Acting: Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper at the Oscars

ABC in the Daily Mail

The intensity of their gaze embody lyrics and character; lyrics which embody the questions about our own human character:

Tell me something, girl / Are you happy in this modern world?

Or do you need more? / Is there something else you're searching for?

Tell me something, boy / Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Or do you need more? / Ain’t it hard keeping it so hardcore?

Those questions aren’t confined to the movies: this modern world, is one of relationships, uncertainty, anxiety and opportunity, and we still ask - what are we searching for?  

We love and grieve; we find ourselves alone, together; trying to fill the void, we form habits and routines; but it’s hard to be self-reliant. Do we need something more?

Today’s Gospel is a quasi-cinematic moment: a window in space and time.

It is a moment of embodied transformation: which reframes all our questions, longings and fears. 

The veil is lifted. We see the dazzling glory of God.

A glimpse of glory to sustain us through the darkness; a glimpse of how things really are.

Here is grace and truth: made flesh.

Here is commandment and prophecy: fulfilled.

Here is love divine, all loves excelling.

Transfiguration - Alexandr Ivanov

Our first reading reminds us that this momentary glimpse of glory is rooted in a longer story. 

Moses is transfigured when he received the Law. Being in the presence of God transforms his appearance; his face shines so brightly that people are afraid. 

Yet the one who spoke with God is called to speak. 

By virtue of the gift of the commandments to love, his hearers are drawn into a new relationship: a covenant of promise and commitment. Personal transformation leads to transformation of a people; this transformed people are called to transform the world. 

Transformation by the light of God, is to radiate outwards as a blessing of love. But human beings tend to seek a less demanding or costly way. 

Our human hearts need to be reminded of love’s implications. Commandment is followed by prophetic challenge to love mercy and to seek the welfare of the most vulnerable. 

The transfiguration of Jesus echoes this earlier glimpse of God’s glory.The presence of Moses and Elijah remind us of the law of love and the prophetic cry for justice.

But this moment of transfiguration is more than a feint echo. It is excessive, abundant and intense. This light is no reflected glory. This light comes from within.

The light which calls all things into being has become flesh of our flesh.

The love that beats at the heart of all things, radiates from a human face. 

This moment of glory is not the end. 

Moses and Elijah are talking about “Jesus’ departure”. This new Exodus, this new act of liberation, will be accomplished in Jerusalem, in his body on the cross. 

This Exodus will be a moment of glory. 

Moses led a people from oppression and slavey to freedom.

Jesus liberates all people from all that wounds and diminishes, from all that controls or exploits. By his suffering, death and resurrection, Jesus breaks the power of sin. Through him, even death itself, that ultimate void, has now more power over us. 

We are recalled to this moment of transfiguration - of seeing Jesus as who is - on the cusp of our journey through Lent. 

Perhaps we can identify with Peter in his desire to hold onto this splendid and radiant vision. Perhaps we share his reluctance to descend to the mundane world; to avoid walking the way of the cross. 

This moment is no less real for being brief.

Transfiguration - Theophanes the Greek C15th

This is a glimpse of hope to sustain us in times of darkness. 

The echoes of that light and glory are reflected as we break bread and pour out wine.  Paul, when he writes to the Corinthians, speaks a lot about a community formed in this way; through acts of remembrance which shape our future, second by second. 

He speaks of freedom and of a refusal to lose heart. He speaks of being transformed and of letting go of that which is shameful.  He speaks of a ministry which is a living radiance. 

In this modern world, what are we searching for? 

Are we trying to fill a void, or do we need more? 

This Lent, consider what daily habits might be most fruitful for us in response to those questions: may they be things which make us more receptive to God’s love, in prayer and scripture; seeing ourselves in God’s light as penitent, restored and recalled.

May they be habits which make us more open to needs of the other in generosity and service; may we use our freedom to embody God’s radiant love by being courageous in our vulnerability and compassionate before the vulnerability of others.

As we partake of the gifts and hospitality of this table, we see afresh the radiance of God in the face of Jesus. 

Radiance in the wafer thin fragility of what we bless and break, take and eat. 

Radiance in the body of Christ: this is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him.

Radiance as we perceive him; as we are strengthened to suffer with him; as we are changed into his likeness, from glory to glory.

Radiance as we who eat this bread are sent to reflect Christ’s risen life in word and deed; acting with boldness in the power of the Spirit.  Amen.

© Julie Gittoes 2019