A Sermon for the Solemnity of The Immaculate Conception of Mary

 

First preached as a sermon at St Michael & All Angels, Croydon, with members of the Cells of the Society of Our Lady of Walsingham in Croydon (St Alban’s, South Norwood, St Michael’s, Croydon & Croydon Minster). Readings: Genesis 3.9-15,20; Ephesians 1.3-6,11-12; Luke 1.26-38. 8th December 2019.

 

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The Immaculate Conception of Mary is a great gift to the Church and, indeed, to all humanity. It is the most optimistic of dogmas, because it says that by God’s grace human beings can be freed from the grip of sin, through our sharing in the life of the Word Made Flesh: Jesus Christ - Son of God, Son of Mary - the incarnate, crucified, risen and ascended Lord. This possibility of God’s grace first moved as Mary was conceived and knit together in the womb of her mother St Anne.

 

Our gospel reading today is St Luke’s account of the Annunciation, which is not to be confused with the Immaculate Conception of Mary, although it often is: the Annunciation is about Christ being incarnate within the womb of Mary, the unborn Saviour, the Word Made Flesh, resting in the immaculate shrine that is Mary’s body. And you will recall that when the pregnant Mary visited her cousin Elizabeth, the child in Elizabeth’s womb leapt for joy as the Mother of the Lord entered into her presence (Luke 1.39-45). That dance of the unborn John the Baptist echoes the unrestrained dance of David before the Ark of the Covenant in the Second Book of Samuel (2 Samuel 6, esp 6.14). David danced before the presence of God in the Ark of the Covenant; John dances before the presence of God, in Christ, in the shrine of Mary’s body.

 

The Immaculate Conception of Mary is about preparing the shrine in which the Christ will gestate and from which he will be born; for which all generations will call her blessed (Luke 1.48).

 

For some the Immaculate Conception makes them queasy. Isn’t it too much about Mary? Doesn’t it make out that somehow she’s not quite human, just a bit too perfect? Isn’t it all a bit Roman Catholic?

 

Too much about Mary? On one level it’s nothing to do with Mary! It’s about God’s grace, of which she is described as being full of: ‘Hail Mary, full of grace’, the archangel’s greeting. On another level it is everything to do with Mary; she is the person, the woman, chosen to be the mother of the Saviour.

 

The initiative is with God in choosing this particular daughter of Zion. That is why Mary is an exemplar of being a Christian, one who is open to the movements of God’s grace, saying yes, not no. After all, Eve – the mother of all the living, as her name means (Genesis 3.20) - was created without sin, placed in the Garden of Eden and yet, with her husband, said ‘no’ to God and ‘yes’ to the serpent. As we see in statues of Mary, the Immaculate Conception, she tramples down the serpent, reversing the transgression of Eve and bearing in her womb the New Adam.

 

Doesn’t it make out that somehow Mary’s not quite human, just a bit too perfect? There have been aspects of Marian devotion that have seemed to disconnect Mary from being human. This is often seen in art, but not in the New Testament or in the dogmas of the Church. Jesus was ‘born of a woman, born under the Law’ (Galatians 4.4); scripture and dogma insist on the humanity of Mary (otherwise how would we claim Christ’s humanity as well as his divinity?) Mary was a woman living in a broken world, but one who was freed by grace to act in a different way from Eve so that the bitter reality of human sin could be reversed.

 

What is more, the Immaculate Conception is not about Mary being conceived in a way that had no human agency. The dogma of the Immaculate Conception is not saying that the act of physical love is wrong, dirty or deficient. Anne and Joachim, as husband and wife, conceived their daughter in the way that any one of us is conceived; they slept together, they procreated, or whatever nice way we want to put it. Mary was human in her DNA; a woman in her chromosomes; and a child of God by grace.

 

Too Roman Catholic? The understanding that Mary, daughter of Anna and Joachim, was immaculately conceived is long held in Christianity, drawing from the gospels, of which more anon, and wider early tradition. Orthodox Christians don’t like defining things, but they still celebrate Mary’s conception as marking out her unique vocation to be the Theotokos, translated literally God-bearer, or Mother of God. Similarly, for Anglicans The Book of Common Prayer (1662) may not use the word ‘Immaculate’ but it still marks in the Calendar the observance of the ‘Conception of the BV Mary’ on 8^th December each year, and that predates the Marian Dogma of 1854 in which Pope Pius IX defined the Immaculate Conception.

 

So there is an ecumenical consensus that Mary matters and that she is a pattern for Grace and Hope in Christ, as the document of that name from the Anglican-Roman Catholic International Commission (ARCIC) put it in 2005. That document shows a remarkable convergence of Marian teaching - perhaps ‘more honoured in the breach than the observance’ - between Anglicans and Roman Catholics. We shouldn’t ignore that not all Anglicans would assent to ARCIC, and, we shouldn’t gloss over differences, but we could all agree, I hope, with Pope St John XXIII, that ‘the Madonna is not pleased when she is put above her Son’. ARCIC acknowledges that there are deep and important roots to what we celebrate, today, in the Immaculate Conception of Mary:

 

In view of her vocation to be the mother of the Holy One (Luke 1.35), we can affirm together that Christ’s redeeming work reached ‘back’ in Mary to the depths of her being, and to her earliest beginnings. This is not contrary to scripture, and can only be understood in the light of scripture. Roman Catholics can recognise this in what is affirmed by the dogma – namely ‘preserved from all stain of original sin’ and ‘from the first moment of her conception.’ (Mary: Grace and Hope in Christ: An Agreed Statement. ARCIC. p. 57-8)

 

So what? So this teaching is agreed by Anglicans, with Roman Catholics, to be consistent with scripture and understood in the light of scripture. Perhaps then we should ask, ‘so what’? What does this dogma of the Immaculate Conception mean for us today?

 

The Immaculate Conception of Mary is about salvation, preparation and the human body as the dwelling of the Most High. It tells us that the journey of holiness is precisely to restore in us the image and likeness of Christ.

 

Mary’s conception, without sin, points to us the possibility of the redemption of human flesh as the dwelling place of God. Indeed in the Mass we receive the Body of Christ into our bodies, such that they become shrines of God’s presence. We are, as it were, a monstrance, a vessel that carries Christ, reveals Christ to the world and imparts Christ’s blessing to all creation.

 

In this season of Advent may we be prepared to receive Christ afresh in his coming again in glory, as surely as he came into our midst born of Mary, Mother immaculate, Mother of the Saviour, Mother of God. Amen.

Bitesize Catechesis - Fasting and Abstinence

‘Bitesize Catechesis’

I wonder what the words fasting and abstinence mean to you.

Perhaps what Muslims do in Ramadan springs to mind; and how impressive that is amongst the devout, fasting between sunrise and sunset and breaking the fast with prayer and communal celebration.

It seems that Christians have long drifted from the ascetic sense of what fasting and abstinence are.

Although that’s not true for all Christians, certainly outside Western Europe.

I was once very chastened when a student at the University of Surrey, a Jordanian Christian, asked when English Christians begin fasting before Christmas. That prompted a fair bit mirth. After all, the Advent fast is less about preparation for a great feast, and more about mince pies, mulled wine, parties and over-indulgence. The secularised Christmas fast is ‘Dry January’ and ‘Veganuary’.

What she described was the Little Fast - in Advent and before Lent, the Sundays known as Septuagesima, Quinquagesima and Quadragesima -of abstaining from meat, and then the Great Fast – Lent - which is a meat free, dairy free diet.

That sounds very remote, but there are remnants of it still. After all, we say pancakes are eaten the day before Lent because they use up all the ingredients that are going to be given up; except the next day we carry on as normal.

Interestingly for Anglican Christians the same rigour is picked up in the Book of Common Prayer 1662 that speaks of days of fasting and abstinence.

And boy, is it rigorous.

I have done a rough tally that there are 122 fast days which include the eve of feast days, the 40 days of Lent, Ember days and every Friday of the year, unless it’s Christmas Day.

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That says something about practices of fasting. But let’s just get our terms clear first.

Fasting and abstinence. But which one’s which?!

Both refer to renunciation, the act of giving something up. Fasting applies to the amount we eat; abstinence to what we eat.

In other words, fasting is going easy on something; abstaining is giving up it up all together.

So when I fast I reduce the intake of all foodstuffs; but when I abstain I remove a particular foodstuff from my diet.

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So we’ve thought about fasting practices, what they are and how people might do them. But why do Christians fast?

We fast because Jesus teaches about it.

When Jesus teaches about it he’s absolutely clear about three key points:

1.      We only fast in his absence, as part of our expectation for his coming and return; (Matthew 9.14, 15; Luke 2.37);

2.      Fasting is not an excuse for showing off, a ‘look how marvellous I am’ approach; it’s about our interior journey with God; (Matthew 6.16, 17);

3.      Fasting doesn’t earn you any heavenly brownie points unless accompanied by penitence and sorrow for sin; (Luke 18.12).

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So where does this leave us? Is it all too overwhelming? How might fasting connect with us and we with it?

One response is for people to say that they are not going to give up something for Lent but instead take something up, a good work, for example.

Perhaps fasting sounds too old-fashioned or traditional or demanding. Fasting and abstinence can sound uncomfortable in relation to eating disorders, body image issues or controlling habits. Certainly health should be taken into account around fasting practices, especially if you’re taking medication.

Taking something up sounds much more active; you’re doing something. The danger is that we take refuge in doing rather than being.

Fasting is a way of doing something without activism. In other words what we do is give up control by relinquishing a particular pleasure so that we come to appreciate what we have.

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I hope that fasting becomes less of a remote practice, because in that way we become a less controlling, less self-indulgent church and a church that turns a way from self-preoccupation and focuses on Christ.

And we can be creative. I know one 17 year old who has given up Instagram for Lent, and believe me that’s a life-changer for him! Another, 15 year old, is omitting lunch on Fridays; he’s doing that prompted by the impressive example of his Muslim friends, and he wants to reconnect with his own faith and its tradition.

So what might all this mean for you?

That’s for you to ponder. And as you do here are three final positives to consider:

1.      Fasting and prayer. Prayer is what gives ballast to fasting and abstinence; they’re empty practices unless accompanied by prayer: Jesus is abundantly clear about that. Fasting clarifies prayer, intensifies prayer and turns prayer away from ourselves and back to the heart of God. One practical way to combine fasting and prayer is to skip a meal and use that time to pray; fasting without prayer is a diet!

2.      Fasting and the body. The great thing about fasting is that it connects our bodies and spirit. When people talk about ‘spirituality’ it can be very removed from the body. And Christianity is nothing if it is not about body and spirit together. Our spirituality always has to be embodied in physical practice – fasting is a great example of that;

3.      Fasting and consumption.  Fasting gives a deep perspective on our relationship with food. Fasting is a great antidote to food waste and it gives us solidarity with the hungry because giving something up makes us appreciate it all the more. The fast God desires, says the prophet Isaiah is all about justice, freeing people and lifting the yoke from the poor; (Isaiah 58). One way to live this out is to give away the amount we would have spent on the meal we’ve omitted to give; that’s what our Lent lunch on 29^th March is about, as we give to the Bishop’s Lent Call for Zimbabwe.

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Fasting and abstinence: what it is, why we do it and how we do it. Happy Lent!

An Epiphany Sermon - Souls & Bodies: Journey to Bethlehem

This sermon was prepared for the Parish Eucharist at Croydon Minster, Epiphany 2019  but in the end not preached, as more (?Better) inspiration moved me to speak without notes...

‘Arise, shine for your light has come… And you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice’ (Isaiah 60)

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The Magi - wise seekers after truth - have come to their journey’s destination. They have followed the star and arrived in Bethlehem.

As a token of this we have placed their figures in our crib, and next Sunday in the evening, through scripture, prayer and music, we will reflect more deeply on the gifts they bring and on the wider themes of Epiphany.

To get to Bethlehem the Magi set aside time, money and effort to make a potentially perilous journey.

Gold represents the majesty of Christ, and, you could say, the cost of their journey; frankincense represents Christ’s divinity, and the spiritual dimension of their quest; myrrh foreshadows Christ’s death, as it is used for anointing dead bodies, and it tells us of the dangers the Magi went through to get to Bethlehem.

Their arrival in Bethlehem was an ending: they had reached their destination. But it was a beginning too. Things had changed; they went home, but by a different way, breaking new ground; life could never be the same again.

The Magi reflect the deep human propensity to want to seek out new things, to discover to explore. This impulse starts early: over Christmas we had niece and nephew aged 4 and 6 staying with us; say no more!

It continues into adulthood. The news over the last few days has been filled with human pursuits and searching: NASA’s ‘New Horizons’ interplanetary space probe; the Chinese landing on the far side of the moon.

Little children, the Magi, NASA, the Chinese space programme and all of us share the same impulse to explore, to gaze up into the heavens and see possibilities beyond what is immediately obvious or just there. (Of course for NASA and the Chinese there are other motivations too about power and domination).

This is of feature of the journey of faith.

‘The heavens are telling the glory of God’ (Psalm 19.1) says the psalmist. In the heavens the Magi saw, a star that would lead them to God’s glory, but not where they expected it.

Many people today identify with journey, with quest, with seeking. The metaphor of life as a journey is a very powerful one: after all, Jesus described himself in journeying terms, ‘I am the way, the truth and the life’; the Church is often described as ‘God’s Pilgrim People; and Christianity was first known simply as the ‘Way’.

Many people today, though, journey after an imperceptible something, not even as tangible as the star, no longer trusting that they can ever find a place to rest and be renewed.

This is encapsulated in the phrase often heard, ‘I am spiritual but not religious’.

That phrase – which needs addressing - captures the zeitgeist of our times. ‘I am spiritual but not religious’: it says, I want to have a sense of something wonderful, but I don’t want to be pinned down; I know there’s more to this, but I can’t trust the answers that others have found to be true; I seek after truth, but can’t trust that there is even such a thing as truth.

It begins to reduce being human solely to what is thought to be a spiritual quest and wrenches that experience away from our bodies. It means that there is a difference between how I feel and what I do. And the body is less and less valued.

To reduce being human solely to an unembodied spiritual quest means that I don’t need anyone else, it becomes essentially most lonely and introspective. As Archbishop Rowan Williams suggests, spiritual death is when life is shut in on itself. This is a huge burden to place on ourselves.

The most perilous, fearsome journey known to man is the journey into the human heart and to be at home in our mortal bodies.

There is a great divorce in Western culture, emanating from the thought of Plato, which seeks to separate out body and soul. This hasn’t always been helped by some strands of Christian thought over the centuries which has been suspicious of the body and implied that the ‘spiritual’ is more pure. This leads to us getting tied up in knots about purity, sexuality and physicality.

In society this body/soul split has accelerated such that the body is perceived to be an encumbrance on the true ‘me’ inside. It’s the disembodied spiritual quest and yearning. This can led to all sorts of pain and a sense of being ill at ease with one’s own body and, at its extremes, to the tragedy of bodily self-harm let alone the ways human bodies are also cheapened by others through violence, torture and pornography.

To be human is to be body, mind and spirit all together and to be called into relationship with other people and with God, the source of our life and hope.

Religious faith seeks to locate the spiritual life in the body with practices that shape and are shaped by faith, faith in the truth that finds us before we find it. This is about life turned out from itself towards God and towards others, whilst cherishing the God-given body that we have.

Christianity is nothing if not about our souls, our minds and our bodies. We draw this directly from the great Christmas gospel of the first chapter of St John’s gospel, ‘The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us’: God’s truth, Jesus Christ, finds us before we find him.

Jesus Christ inhabits a human body; is a human body. The Magi’s spiritual quest is met in the reality of a human body that can be seen, touched and held. And in this body dwells the full presence of God. The glory of the Creator and the wonder of creation are here, in Jesus Christ.

The star led the Magi to something, someone, very specific, tangible and embodied: God in Christ. This is what our faith leads us to this morning as we come on our spiritual and religious journey to meet him afresh in his Word and in his Body.

We come to worship and to adore and to offer not gold, frankincense and myrrh but ourselves in his service.

‘Arise, shine for your light has come… And you shall see and be radiant; your heart shall thrill and rejoice’ (Isaiah 60)