Sunday, 15 June 2025

Move wisely, and heal things

 

A sermon preached in Croydon Minster on Sunday 15th June, 2025, at the beginning of the Mayoral Year, in the presence of the Worshipful the Civic Mayor of Croydon, Cllr Richard Chatterjee.


“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,

whose trust is the Lord.

He is like a tree planted by water,

that sends out its roots by the stream,

and does not fear when heat comes,

for its leaves remain green,

and is not anxious in the year of drought,

for it does not cease to bear fruit.”

(Jeremiah 17.7-8)

 

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Ancient wisdom and enduring truths are easily scoffed at in a society where the slogan, ‘move fast and break things’ is in common currency.

That approach might work for the ‘tech bros’ of Silicon Valley, but they are not words that speak of how communities work, and certainly not communities with a millennium of history and culture that our Borough of Croydon has.

Leadership of communities of people, especially, ones so socio-economically and culturally diverse as Croydon, demands other skills and gifts.

And that takes us to tonight.

The current Archbishop of York wrote a little book a few years ago with the title ‘Hit the Ground Kneeling’.

That title is, of course, a reworking of the way that leaders want to ‘hit the ground running’, and other such slogans: ‘make a high impact’, ‘pick the low hanging fruit’.

The allure of the ‘short, sharp reset’ is seductive, but it ignores deep seated and long-standing challenges and how people live their lives.

Of course, in political life leaders want quick results, instant fixes and high impact, largely because that is what the voters want: we’re all complicit!

And for many people things need to change.

For people in our Borough who are in sub-standard accommodation; those who are fearful of crime; those who always seem to come out at the bottom of the pile; those who find themselves in ‘a strange and foreign land’ (Psalm 137) those working in voluntary organisations; those who need some beauty around them: things need to change.

And it’s tempting, in the face of that, to want to ‘move fast and break things’ or ‘hit the ground running’.

Of course, in the face of the challenges we have, we can’t ‘move slowly and do nothing’.

Change is needed; transformation of society is needed.

So what about ‘hitting the ground kneeling’, what does that actually mean?

What the Archbishop was saying is that so often we are in too much of a hurry to take time to ponder, reflect, think, seek out wisdom and, actually, to pray.

When you run around too much you are prone to tripping over; when you are kneeling before God in prayer, you can only be lifted up.

Might the motto for the political life of Croydon, our nation, our world, be: ‘Move wisely and heal things’?

This service tonight, at the beginning of a Mayoral Year, is a moment for our new Civic Mayor to ‘hit the ground kneeling’, in other words to begin his Mayoral Year in prayer, seeking out the depths of God’s wisdom.

God’s wisdom runs deep, like underground watercourses; and it’s trees that put roots down deep that draw on that refreshment and renewal:

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,
    whose trust is the Lord.
He is like a tree planted by water,
    that sends out its roots by the stream,
and does not fear when heat comes,
    for its leaves remain green,
and is not anxious in the year of drought,
    for it does not cease to bear fruit.” (cf Jeremiah 17.7-8)

When any of us, especially those in political life, is faced with the crisis that blows up out of nowhere, the pressing issue that needs solving, the people or person who needs seeing to, the tyranny of the diary, the imminent deadline for a difficult decision; then tap into the deeper wisdom of God.

Tonight, in the timeless phrases and cadences of a service that Archbishop John Whitgift himself would have recognised, we are also deeply mindful of the contemporary needs of our Borough that would have been bewildering to people 50 years ago, never mind 500.

Tonight’s service is a chance to go deep, to be renewed in what motivates and inspires service to a wider community of people, and the ability to look beyond ourselves.

By the way, there is no better place to start on that than by reading again our two Bible readings this evening: take the order of service away with you; read the readings again as you start your day, and use them as a measure and challenge to how you live your life.

That is a good exercise for us to do at all ages and stages and settings of life, whether in the workplace, at school, the council chamber or Town Hall: where do I find wisdom? How am I equipped for service? How do I see the world beyond myself and my own ambitions?

The two reading tells us that there is an authority and wisdom beyond ourselves that comes from God, and in obedience to that wisdom we are commissioned to make it practical in how we serve and honour all people.

After the prayers that follow this address, in which we pray for our civic life, we will be invited by our new Civic Mayor, to make an Act of Commitment as citizens of this Borough of Croydon, to join him in reaffirming our determination to build a community of respect, tolerance, courtesy and love so that all in our Borough may flourish.

I hope that everyone here, regardless of personal faith, belief or political conviction can share those words and put them into practice.

May we all, drawing on the wisdom of God, hearing the call to service and in the spirit of this evening, ‘Move wisely and heal things’.

Trinity Sunday: For love; against idolatry

Proverbs 8.22-31 Before the beginning of the earth, Wisdom was brought forth

Romans 5.1-5 To God through Christ in the love which is poured out through the Spirit

John 16.12-15 All that the Father has is mine; therefore I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.

+ Blessed be God the Father, and the only begotten Son of God;

and blessed be the Holy Spirit: for the mercy he has shown to us.

 

It is often said that it’s rude to talk about money, politics, sex and religion.

These things can make people feel very uncomfortable for a variety of reasons.

That said, it is not unreasonable to expect a priest from a pulpit to address any of those topics, from time to time.

Money, politics, sex and religion all have a bearing on how we live our lives and therefore have a deep bearing on how we live life as followers of Jesus Christ.

On Trinity Sunday, I’m not going to address the impolite, but rather focus on God.

Shock, horror: a priest preaching about God!

And, let’s face it, God should not just be pondered on Trinity Sunday: every Sunday, every single day, sees us immersed in the life of God, the Holy Trinity.

After all, we are baptised, ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit’.

Every time we gather to celebrate the Eucharist we do so, ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit’.

Some might say, and have said, that the Trinity is really Greek philosophy, playing with words, getting too dense for simple faith.

The Church of England begs to differ, declaring that account of God is, ‘uniquely revealed in the Holy Scriptures and set forth in the catholic creeds’. (Church of England, Preface to the Declaration of Assent)

And it matters.

The Christian belief in the one God, revealed as Father, Son and Holy Spirit, takes us to the heart of the nature of God.

This belief is expanded every time we say or sing the Creed.

We sing of the Father, the creator; the Son, - Eternal Word - always nestled in the Father’s heart, who takes human flesh and redeems us from our sinful condition; the Holy Spirit, the One who sustains us in life, and forms us into a body of worship and adoration of the Holy One.

We believe in one God.

And to declare, ‘I believe in one God’ is a very bold thing.

It is bold, not simply because in an increasingly disenchanted world people find it harder to say, but it is bold because to believe in God expresses concrete hope in something unseen; it is bold because it reminds us we humans are not gods!

To believe in God is to be enchanted, to believe that we inhabit a world that is bigger than ourselves, that we are not in control and God is the ground of our being.

And it’s not just theory.

Have you noticed that the so-called New Atheists, the likes of Richard Dawkins - who weirdly loved talking about God - are now really rather quiet.

Their splurge against God has fizzled out because it could only mock and just offered a blackhole of despair and doom and nothingness.

For believers not only do we assert that there is such an entity as God, but that God is sovereign in our lives and concerned about our lives.

Our belief in God shapes who we are, how we make decisions, how we cherish and value the creation, life and purpose.

The Trinity sketches out the inner life of the God we cannot fully know or understand.

What a Christian can, and should, always say of God is that, ‘God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.’ (1 John 4.16b).

To speak of God the Trinity is the beautiful sense we have that God is love: God created us out of love; God saves us out of love; God sustains us and draws us together, out of love.

Love is not simply a by-product or an ‘output’ of God, but is the heart and essence and substance of God.

The image of the Trinity, this glimpse into God, is of a perfect unity of love: love that gives of itself, is free of rivalry and manipulation, that delights in the other, and wills the good of the other, simply because they are there.

God is not in competition with you!

The Trinity is the love of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

And to speak of God as Trinity also guards against idolatry, which is love misdirected.

What the New Atheists got right, was to warn us – in the same way the Old Testament prophets do - against creating idols of our own making or to invoke God to coerce or denigrate others.

An idol is something that becomes an object of devotion or worship that deflects us from God.

All those things considered impolite to talk about - money, politics, sex and, even religion (at least when we stop talking about God and talk about ourselves) - can easily become idols themselves.

Jesus says that ‘the Spirit of Truth will guide you into all truth’, (John 16.13) in other words guide us into the truth of the God of love, the blessed Trinity.

God is not a figment of our imaginations; he is always beyond them.

The invisible God is made visible in the face of Jesus Christ. (cf Colossians 1.15)

The unknowable God is knowable, as St Paul prays, in beautifully mystical language:

that you, being rooted and grounded in love, 18 may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, 19 and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3.17-19)

May we be filled with the fulness of God, + Father, Son and Holy Spirit, to whom be ascribed all might, majesty, dominion and power now and through the ages of ages. Amen.

Sunday, 1 June 2025

Heavens opened: Ascension, Descent, Church

Acts 7.55-60 ‘I see the Son of Man standing at the right hand of God’

Revelation 22.12-14,16-17,20 ‘Come, Lord Jesus!’

John 17.20-26 ‘May they become perfectly one.’

 

 ‘Behold, I see the heavens opened’

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On this seventh Sunday of the season of Easter, we stand between two great mysteries, wonders, if you prefer, of the Christian faith that have great bearing on how we understand the nature of God, and how God is not remote, but is with us until the end of the age, all of which prepares the ground for a third mystery.

The first great mystery was celebrated on Thursday, the Ascension of the Lord.

This is the day when Jesus Christ ascends into the heavens, out of his disciples’ sight, having told them that he is ‘with them always, to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28.20)

We’re left with wondering how can he possibly claim to be with us at the same time as going beyond our sight and into what we might call ‘another dimension’?

The answer is that as he is now no longer bound by time and space, his body no longer incarnate on earth, he is present at all times and in all places, in our world, in every believer’s heart, in mine and in yours.

In Christ’s incarnation, his becoming human, God shows that he is not remote, distant or like a blind watchmaker who gets Creation going then clears off.

St Matthew’s Gospel asserts this at the beginning, the middle and the end: ‘His name is Emmanuel (which means, God with us)’ (Matthew 1.23); ‘For where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am among them’ (Matthew 18.20); ‘And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28.20).

That remains true even after the Ascension.

Yet, he is beyond our sight and touch, we cannot see him and relate to him as you and I can to each other.

The Ascension mystery is that he is always with us, yet always beyond us.

And he promises to come again in glory: ‘Surely, I am coming soon.’ Amen. Come, Lord Jesus (Revelation 22.20).

Love of God is the Christian’s highest ambition: our summum bonum – our highest good – the God always with us, yet always beyond us.

Ascension Day, which is always 40 days after Easter, this year fell on 29th May, which was also the anniversary of the conquering of Mount Everest in 1953.

One’s personal Everest is considered the highest thing that can be achieved: but it’s not high enough for the believer.

From a mountain top Jesus Christ ascends beyond, higher, the goal of all our aspirations, telling us our fulfilment is not in earthly achievement but heavenly completion.

That’s why even in the act of being martyred, with rocks hurled at him, Stephen, the first Christian martyr, looks and sees heaven opened and the Son of Man, Jesus Christ, sitting at God’s right hand in glory, and calls out, echoing Jesus’ words from the Cross, “Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.” (Acts 7.59)

We are called always to look beyond.

Savour this world; yet not be bound by it.

Succeed in this world; but not be fooled into thinking that’s all there is.

And that is where the second mystery comes in, the mystery to be celebrated next Sunday: the Descent of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.

There will be more to consider next week, but Pentecost makes real the promises of Christ that he is not remote from us, that he is with us and we with him, even more than that, that he dwells in us and we in him.

The Spirit comes down upon the apostles who, with the Blessed Virgin Mary, have been praying in the Upper Room since Christ’s ascension.

They are now the Church and through the transmission of the Church’s life here are we united with believers throughout the world and, indeed, in heaven.

So, these nine days between Ascension and Descent of the Holy Spirit constitute the time, par excellence, to ponder the mystery of the Church, the third wonder for today.

And let’s be quite clear, whilst it needs to be organised, I’m talking about the Mystical Body of Christ, not about synods, committees, Vicars and archdeacons, rotas and such like.

Here we’re entering into a sacred, enchanted, symbolic world.

Modernity has us using the left side of our brains most of the time; processing, counting and abstract thinking.

In the sacred world we also have to exercise the right side of our brains: integrating creativity, imagination, wonder, mystery.

From that perspective we see that scripture has the most stunning language for the Church, the divine mystery.

The Church is the Bride to be espoused to the Bridegroom, Christ.

Those whose bodies are washed in the waters [of baptism] ‘have the right to the tree of life and that they may enter the city by the gates’. (Revelation 22.14)

Creation itself is being renewed!

The tree of life, the Cross, is the way to God’s wisdom; a gift, not to be snatched as the fruit was in the Garden of Eden.

They may enter the city by the gates; after the Fall the gates of paradise were guarded by cherubim with flaming swords: we may enter paradise now, for the Good Shepherd, the Door of the Sheepfold, has opened the gates.

The Church is first and foremost an organism, a body, in which the individual believer first relates to Christ and then, in the love of Christ, to fellow believers.

This is what is being addressed in our gospel reading: go back and look at the intimacy of the language; you’re invited into that!

Yes, the Spirit at Pentecost descended upon the Apostles, but so also through them to the whole Church throughout the ages: ‘I do not ask for these only’, says Jesus, ‘but also for those who will believe in me through their word’. (John 17.20)

Jesus is reflecting on the unity of the Father and the Son, and how that unity, intimacy and sharing life is to be reflected in those who receive him.

The wonders: Ascension, Descent, Church.

The mysteries of the Ascension of Christ and the Descent of the Spirit connect heaven and earth and charge up the Church with the power of things heavenly on earth: passed through the sacraments; rooted in the power of the scriptures; grounded in prayer.

The Ascended Lord, through the power of the Holy Spirit, is with us always in his Body, the Church, and through that divine wonder, we dwell in him: ‘Behold, I see the heavens opened!’

 

Thursday, 29 May 2025

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens, and your glory over all the earth: Ascension Day

Acts 1.1-11 'As they were looking on, he was lifted up.'

Hebrews 9,24-28; 10.19-23 'Christ has entered into heaven itself'

Luke 24.46-53 'While he blessed them, he was carried up into heaven.'

 

My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready;

I will sing and give you praise.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens,

and your glory over all the earth.

(Psalm 57.8,12)

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'Lift up your hearts' 'We lift them to the Lord'.

The great ‘Sumsum Corda’ – lift up your hearts is said at the beginning of the great Eucharistic Prayer of Consecration, when things of the earth, bread and wine are lifted up, elevated, and become the tokens of heaven.

A divine exchange takes place, all with the purpose of raising our hearts and minds into the heavenly places, into the ways of God.

This is a resurrection-ascension gift, as St Paul puts it: 'if then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above where Christ is seated at the right hand of God.' (Colossians 3.1,2)

For the believer this is the elevation of baptism that follows the plunge into the waters as Christ descended to the depths to be raised by the Father.

This resurrection-ascension gift enables the movement of the heart, upwards to God; the movement we see on this Ascension Day, as Jesus Christ ascends into the heavens.

When we lift our hearts up to the Lord it is as if our hearts are caught in the slipstream and trajectory of the Ascension of the Lord.

We don’t just stand gawping up into heaven, as the angel said to the disciples (Acts 1.11); rather, our hearts become heaven shaped so that our lives on earth honour and serve the Risen and Ascended One.

The human heart is a wonderful and terrifying thing: a human heart can be open, broken, bleeding, warmed, as well as being lifted up.

At the beginning of Lent, in the great Collect for that season, we prayed that the Lord - who hates nothing that he has made - would 'create and make in us new and contrite hearts.'

That is a prayer for hearts of flesh, to replace our hearts of stone (cf Ezekiel 11.19; 36.26), so that our hearts are purified of sin as we seek forgiveness from God.

Mention of Lent takes us to a beautiful piece of symmetry.

The season of Lent lasts for 40 days to take us to Easter, and it is 40 days from Easter Day until the day of Ascension.

40 days before Easter, on Ash Wednesday, we were taken down, into the dust.

We were reminded of our humanity and mortality: 'dust thou art and unto dust shalt thou return. Turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ.'

On Good Friday, Jesus is lifted up on the Cross and we recall his words, ‘And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ (John 12.32)

On Easter Day we rejoiced in the Resurrection of Christ - as this Paschal Candle bears witness - and, in the renewing the promises of our baptism, we proclaimed, 'I turn to Christ; I repent of my sin; I renounce evil'.

Now, 40 days after Easter, on Ascension Day, Christ ascends into the heavens, and, as the Collect for today puts it, ‘so may we in heart and mind may also ascend and with him continually dwell.’

The great mystery at the heart of the Christian religion is that Christ humbled himself to share in our humanity, so that we might be elevated to share his divinity.

God stooped down to raise us up.

This is known as theosis or divinisation, that is to say becoming more and more as God.

It is a magnificent statement of God's purpose in Jesus Christ.

The letter to the Philippians reminds us that:

[Christ Jesus] emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2.7-11)

God puts down and God raises up: as Mary sings, in her Magnificat, that song of praise of God's mighty acts, 'he hath put down the mighty from their seat and hath exalted the humble and meek' (Luke 1.52)

Through the Holy Spirit, and in the Name of Jesus, God pushes vanity, pomposity and sin from their enthroned position in our lives and exalts that is Christlike and that magnifies the Father.

And he needs our hearts to be ready for that: as the psalm says:

8    My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready;

I will sing and give you praise.

10  I will give you thanks, O Lord, among the peoples;

I will sing praise to you among the nations.

11  For your loving-kindness is as high as the heavens,

and your faithfulness reaches to the clouds.

12  Be exalted, O God, above the heavens,

and your glory over all the earth. (Psalm 57.8,10,11,12)

In an increasingly disenchanted world - where we are told that the only reality is the material, things you can see, touch and analyse, that has had its heart and soul stripped out - all too often Christians have bought the seductive line that our faith is so heavenly that it is of no earthly use.

Let’s not fall for that counsel of despair and hopelessness!

The Ascension of the Lord tells us different: there is ultimate hope, meaning and purpose: God lives! Christ reigns! The Holy Spirit comes!

With hearts lifted up to the Lord, we Christians live in this earth, yet as citizens of heaven.

St Paul pitches it just right:

I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Saviour, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like his glorious body, by the power that enables him even to subject all things to himself. (Philippians 3.11, 20,21)

That is Ascension language: may it become our own.

My heart is ready, O God, my heart is ready;

I will sing and give you praise.

Be exalted, O God, above the heavens,

and your glory over all the earth.

Sunday, 25 May 2025

The peace Christ gives

Acts 151-2, 22-29 ‘It has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to lay on you no greater burden than these requirements

Revelation 21.10-14,22-23 ‘He showed me the holy city coming down out of heaven’

John 14.23-29 ‘The Holy Spirit will bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you.’

 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.

Not as the world gives do I give to you.

Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.

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In today’s gospel Jesus promises three things.

First, he promises that God, will dwell in the person who loves him, Jesus, and keeps his word.

What a promise! God finds a home in your body, in your life.

Secondly, flowing from that, he promises that he will send a Helper, the Holy Spirit, God, the love that flows between Father and Son, who will complete that presence within you.

What a promise! God doesn’t simply find a home within you, but will teach you and will bring all his words and deeds to your remembrance.

In other words, through the Holy Spirit, Jesus Christ will be more alive to you than you can possibly imagine, and will form and shape you more deeply in God’s image, so that your life looks more like Christ’s.

That’s the goal of the Christian life, right there!

And when we hear Jesus say that the Holy Spirit will bring all his words ‘to remembrance’, it is impossible not to recall his words at the Last Supper, ‘Do this in remembrance of me.’

Those words accompany the taking, consecrating and sharing of his body and blood in the Eucharist.

Jesus Christ, whose Spirit is invoked over the gifts of bread and wine, is made present to us afresh: he is brought to remembrance.

That is the sacramental way in which Jesus dwells in us and we in him.

Those two promises – God coming home to you, his Spirit teaching and making him present to you – are made to the baptised, and today to Marlie who is presented for baptism.

Those two promises are sealed when we receive the gift of the Holy Spirit at Confirmation, when we are fully ready to receive Christ’s body and blood into our own body and blood.

All of which leads us to the third promise, Christ’s promised gift of peace.

The world into which Marlie, and all of us, has been born and which we have to navigate, is a world marred by turmoil, unrest, war: the very opposite of peace.

In such a world to be promised peace, as a gift to us - peace that is not yet known or understood by the world – is a gift to our troubled and fearful hearts: we yearn for peace and tranquillity, ‘give unto thy servants that peace which the world cannot give’ (Book of Common Prayer, 1662, 2nd Collect at Evening Prayer)

St Augustine’s words ring true to human experience, some 1600 years after they were first uttered: ‘Lord, You have made us for yourself and our hearts are restless until they find their rest in You.’ (Confessions)

Augustine articulates our restlessness and longing for peace: and the way to peace through Jesus’ gift of the Holy Spirit and by us allowing God to be the guiding presence in our lives.

So let’s consider this gift of peace.

What is this peace that Jesus gives us? How is it his peace and not the sort of the peace the world gives?

For a start the word ‘peace’ is really important in the Bible.

In Hebrew there is the beautiful word שָׁלוֹם (shalom) and in the Greek New Testament the word ειρήνη (eirene).

But when we say the word ‘peace’ we can mean different things and the Great Tradition explores this.

For example, St Thomas Aquinas teaches that there exist four types of peace: 1) concord; 2) apparent or false peace; 3) true but imperfect peace; and 4) perfect peace.

‘Concord’, literally meaning ‘of one heart’, is simple agreement among the wills of different people concerning one thing.

That is a good thing when people are of one mind and not disputing.

But there‘s a danger because we can all be of one mind about something bad.

That can happen in families, nations and globally: just because everyone agrees doesn’t make something beautiful, good or true.

It’s what Aquinas calls ‘the peace of the wicked’, what we might call today ‘groupthink’.

It’s a false peace, as the prophet Jeremiah says:

They have healed the wound of my people lightly, saying, ‘Peace, peace, when there is no peace’. (Jeremiah 6.14 and 8.11)

That is the peace the world gives.

We’re onto it when we say ‘peace is not an absence of war’: there’s more to peace than not fighting and there’s more to peace than just agreeing.

True, but imperfect, peace is when the guns fall silent, when killing ends and calm returns, but it is imperfect.

If in peace our aim is not to kill each other it is a short-sighted aim, and is always susceptible to breakdown.

And that is where perfect peace is the peace offered by Christ, ‘my peace I give you, not as the world gives you.’

This peace we receive when ‘the chief movement of the soul finds rest in God.’

And this brings us back to the first two promises.

True peace - shalom, eirene –comes when we seek not our own ends but God’s.

True peace comes when we direct our appetite and passions towards what is truly good, when we can say ‘Christ is our peace.’

When we can say that, then we are ready to allow Christ to be at the centre of our lives, and he makes his home in us and we have welcomed him, for then our lives are ordered in harmony, tranquillity and unity with God’s purposes, the storm is stilled, and we ourselves become channels of peace.

This harmonious, tranquil ordering of our lives spills out into the harmonious, creative, fruitful ordering of the city, and of the world.

‘Let there be peace on earth,’ says the children’s song, ‘and let it begin with me.’

Let there be Christ’s peace on earth, the peace which passes all understanding, and let it find a place in my restless heart. Amen.

Sunday, 18 May 2025

Jesus in the den of life

A sermon preached at Choral Evensong

Daniel 6.1-23; Mark 15.46-16.8

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Daniel in the den of lions is a much-loved story in Sunday Schools and children’s Bibles. Often when we’re a bit older we think we’ve outgrown it, but here it is tonight, along with the women coming to the tomb of Jesus: what’s going on?

Daniel’s place as a ‘high official’, given that he was a foreigner in Babylon seems quite remarkable.

But then Daniel, and his fellow Israelites were not in Babylon by choice.

Daniel was a Hebrew, an Israelite, who along with ‘brightest and best’ of Israelite society had been forced to leave their homeland to work at the heart of the Babylonian Empire.

This was something Empires did, and do.

Nowadays it’s more likely to be in the form of a brain drain, the bright Brit going to work in Silicon Valley: the Israelites weren’t migrants by choice in Babylon taking the jobs of the natives: they were forced labourers, even if in some very significant positions.

Some Jews had been left back in Judea, in and around Jerusalem, but they were the farmers and certainly not the elite.

So Daniel was both bright and good at his job, a trusted lieutenant of the king.

And, as is a perennial issue for migrants, even those who have been settled for some while in a country, resentment breeds.

The native elites don’t like it when others break into their positions of influence and power or who won’t toe the line of the elite groupthink.

So it was that the other ‘high officials and satraps sought to find a ground for complaint against Daniel with regard to the [running of the] kingdom, but they could find no ground for complaint or any fault, because he was faithful, and no error or fault was found in him. Then these men said, “We shall not find any ground for complaint against this Daniel unless we find it in connection with the law of his God.” (Daniel 6.4,5)

So they approach the king and manipulate him, through flattery, into making a ludicrous, irrevocable law - what we might recognise as a law that seeks to restrict religious freedom - ‘that whoever makes petition to any god or man for thirty days, except to [the] king, shall be cast into the den of lions’. (Daniel 6.9b)

This is the only way they were going to get him.

Freedom of religious conscience is one of the deep principles of our society and born out of Christian teaching:

[The human] response to God in faith must be free: no one therefore is to be forced to embrace the Christian faith against his own will. (Dignitatis Humanae 9, 10)

Notwithstanding examples in history, it is not Christian to coerce belief, but to invite belief from the heart, as a loving response to the God who made us and loves us.

That is where Marxist-Leninism was so anti-human, it sought to force everyone to think and believe the same things, things that were palpably untrue and unreasonable.

Yet that spirit lives on in those who cannot tolerate the religious perspective and voice in society.

Secularism talks of diversity but pushes religious faith into the private sphere and refuses to listen to that voice, fooling itself into believing that a ‘neutral society’, by which it means one that holds to dominant secular mores and norms, is desirable.

Inconvenient Christian voices written off as backward, irrational, bigoted or just tiresome.

Daniel knew different; the practice of his faith was not to be privatised but something under obedience and conviction he would carry on practicing.

So he consciously and intentionally resisted.

Knowing precisely what the law now was, he went to his house where he had windows in his upper chamber open toward Jerusalem. He got down on his knees three times a day and prayed and gave thanks before his God, as he had done previously’. (Daniel 6.10)

He walked purposely and boldly into the trap set for him.

The trap springs, much to the king’s distress, who seeks a way out.

But the king has tied his own hands: the all-powerful king is the trapped one, not Daniel; Daniel, shut in the lion’s den, is free.

Famously Daniel walks free from the den of lions.

The goodness, beauty and truth of God cannot be locked up, and even if they are temporarily suppressed, they will walk free because they cannot be constrained.

All this is why Daniel is a ‘type’ – a precursor - of Christ.

Daniel trusts in his God against the powers; Jesus Christ remains faithful to the Father in the face of Roman tyranny.

Both Daniel and Jesus trust in God to deliver them.

The king didn’t believe Daniel guilty and Pontius Pilate finds no guilt in Jesus but allows those who plot after his life to have him killed (Luke 23.4).

In St John’s Gospel Pilate says this three times, ‘I find no guilt in him’. (John 18.38; 19.4;19.6)

Yet both Jesus and Daniel are sent to their death.

And that’s where parallels cease.

Daniel doesn’t die; he is miraculously protected, as you might expect a hero to be.

Jesus, unheroically, dies on the cross.

And what is found, after Daniel goes to the den of lions and Jesus’ body laid in the tomb, is different.

Just as the king rose at break of day to go to the den of lions, so the women go to the tomb ‘very early on the first day of the week’ (Mark 16.1).

No king comes to seek Jesus, but Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome.

The women don’t come to see if they have got away with a miscarriage of justice like the king, but to anoint Jesus’ dead body.

The king finds Daniel there alive; the women find the tomb empty.

The king is relieved; the women filled with holy awe because of the message they are told: ‘He has been raised; he is not here’.

Life itself, the majesty of creation, the prophets and scriptures all hint at resurrection in the general sense, but in Christ’s triumph over death, proclaimed in this Easter season, Creation itself is renewed, human life animated to the glory of God and each person given the possibility of living life in all its abundance.

May we remain faithful, to our belief and practice, in proclaiming the victory of Christ over sin and death, and always seek to shape our lives after his example, reflecting the lively life that deathless shall persevere.