How hard it is...

Amos 5:6-7;10-15  Hate evil and love good

Hebrews 4: 12-16 The word of God cuts more finely than a double-edged sword

Mark 10.17-31 Give everything  you own to the poor, and follow me

 

‘For mortals it is impossible, but not for God;

for God all things are possible.’

(Mark 10.27).

 

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‘The word of God’, the Letter to the Hebrews tells us, ‘is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow; it is able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart’. (Hebrews 4.12)

 

That is some description.

 

Anyone who thinks the Bible or Christian belief and practice is undemanding or ‘easy come; easy go’ is in for a shock.

 

And those of us who already profess the Christian faith and consider ourselves disciples of Christ are pressed further, into considering what our faith really means to us, and what the demands of that faith are.

 

This is what the man in today’s gospel, who had many possessions, found out to his cost.

 

Or, perhaps better put, he was not prepared to pay the cost of following Jesus which, in his case, was to sell all he had and give the money to the poor.

 

People have speculated if that is a general instruction to us all – to sell up and give it all away – or a particular one to him.

 

That hardly matters: Jesus’ call to ‘come, follow me’ always calls for some form of renunciation: material, emotional, economic.

 

To follow him the fishermen put down their nets.

 

To follow him Matthew, the tax collector, walks away from his sharp practices and creaming off tax income for himself.

 

To follow him Mary Magdalene lets go of her physical needing Jesus.

 

To follow him Zacchaeus makes restitution of his financial misdealing.

 

This rich man with many possessions is told that to follow Jesus he must sell all those possessions and give the proceeds to the poor.

 

The gospel poses the question: to follow him what do you have to let of of?

 

It will be something you have to give up to make way for taking on the way of Jesus Christ more deeply.

 

Following Jesus means for each of us that we don’t just say put, stuck in a rut of our own self-satisfaction, pride or comfort.

 

We can’t.

 

Not when the word of God is ‘is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow… able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart’

 

Discipleship begins with decision; a movement of the heart.

 

‘Will you come and follow me if I but call your name?’ Will you, or won’t you?

 

If you will, then life will change.

 

It’s telling that Jesus was on a journey at the beginning of this passage, for he is always on the move.

 

That translates today into the fact that being a disciple of Christ is not a static experience: the disciple will change, will experience metanoia, which is often translated as ‘repentance’, or ‘changing’, or ‘turning around’.

 

The Greek word metanoia joins two words: meta, ‘to go beyond’, noia, from ‘nous’, meaning ‘mind’.

 

In other words, it is when we go beyond our present mind - changing our thoughts, our habits, our compulsions, our preoccupations - that we are ready truly to be a disciple.

 

We go beyond our present state of mind to see things through the eyes of Christ.

 

And just as Jesus calls disciples in the Gospels in different ways so your call to discipleship will look different from mine; we’re all different people with different sins and shortcomings, but we are all people who Jesus ‘looks at and loves’, just as he did that rich man.

 

And that man who comes to Jesus is so nearly there.

 

Just observe.

 

He comes to Jesus when Jesus is on the move, it implies he’s ready to join the journey, go where Jesus goes, literally and figuratively.

 

He runs up to Jesus; he is eager.

 

He kneels down at Jesus’ feet; this is deepest act of respect to give to anyone.

 

He asks Jesus, ‘Good Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?’

 

So nearly there.

 

What the rich man was demonstrating was that he was a great observer of the Law of Moses: something the Pharisees did assiduously.[1]

 

But Jesus didn’t say, ‘well, you’ve come to the right man, it sounds great what you’re already doing, keeping the commandments and all that. And thanks for calling me Good.’

 

Instead Jesus does and says something that, ‘is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing until it divides soul from spirit, joints from marrow… able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart’.

 

First, Jesus looks at the man, and loves him.

 

And then, precisely because he ‘looks at him and loved him’, Jesus can’t leave him stuck where he is, being very rich, possessed by his possessions, feeling great about the commandments, and going through the motions of righteousness.

 

He needs to be challenged.

 

Here it is again:

 

Jesus, looking at him, loved him and said, ‘You lack one thing; go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.’ When he heard this, he was shocked and went away grieving, for he had many possessions. (Mark 10.21,22)

 

The gospel reading last Sunday ended with Jesus describing how the kingdom of God is to be lived by those who are utterly dependent on love and grace, as you can see in a person who always accepts of the love of others – the child being the exemplar of that way of being.

 

‘How hard it is…’ we might say, just like the disciples did.

 

And that’s exactly what Jesus says too, ‘Children’ - that’s what he calls them – ‘children, how hard it is to enter the kingdom of God!’ (Mark 10.24b)

 

Hang on, we might say, doesn’t Jesus welcome everyone, unconditionally?

 

He certainly welcomes unconditionally those who ‘get grace’, as we heard last week; but adults, and those possessed by possessions, he welcomes conditionally: the condition being, ‘are you ready to let go?’

 

Letting go of what possesses us like habits and things - be that money, possessions, overbearing clinging to other people, our pride, self-satisfaction – letting go of those things is not a deprivation but a completion.

 

The logic of the Kingdom, the logic of the Cross, is that when you give away, then you receive; when you are last, then you are first; when you have nothing, you have everything; when you die to self-obsession, you are born to eternal life.

 

If you’re ready to that then eternal life, life in Christ, life in the Kingdom, is yours.

 

If you are not ready to that, then you will, like the rich man, find yourself shocked, and go away grieving.

 

And those who don’t come near to Jesus or do not go away grieving probably weren’t sincerely seeking him in the first place: yet still he looks at them and loves them…

 

‘How hard it is…’

 

Well, yes, taking up the cross and following Jesus is, but it is the way to the fullness of eternal life.

 

As Jesus says: ‘For mortals it is impossible, but not for God; for God all things are possible.’ (Mark 10.27).

 

 

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[1] NB This is not a derogatory remark about Pharisees, but a point that Torah observance was fundamental to the Pharisaic tradition.

Those whom God has joined together

Genesis 2.18-24 A man and his wife become one body

Hebrews 2.9-11 The one who sanctifies is the brother of those who are sanctified

Mark 10.2-16 What God has united, man must not divide

 

 

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One of the most moving and lovely parts of the wedding service is the moment when the priest takes his stole and wraps it around the joined hands of the bride and bridegroom and says, ‘those whom God has joined together, let no one [separate] put asunder’.

 

They have already made their declarations to ‘love, comfort, honour and protect [each] other, and, forsaking all others, be faithful to [each other] as long as [they] both shall live’.

 

And they have made their vows:

 

to have and to hold

from [that] day forward;

for better, for worse,

for richer, for poorer,

in sickness and in health,

to love and to cherish,

till death us do part;

according to God’s holy law.

 

The action and the words of tying the stole, speak clearly and embody Jesus’ declaration that ‘what God has joined together, let no one separate’.

 

The Church of England Marriage Service draws deeply on the language of marriage that the scriptures are soaked in. This is what it says:

 

Marriage is a gift of God in creation

through which husband and wife may know the grace of God.

It is given

that as man and woman grow together in love and trust,

they shall be united with one another in heart, body and mind,

as Christ is united with his bride, the Church.

 

Marriage is a gift of God in creation. That’s a short way of saying what Jesus said in the Gospel today:

 

… from the beginning of creation, “God made them male and female.” “For this reason a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.” So they are no longer two, but one flesh. Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.’ (Genesis 2.6-9)

 

And it also reflects the Biblical language of marriage, Covenant and faithfulness that we see from Genesis to Revelation.

 

Genesis describes the givenness and complementarity of male and female. What does that mean?

 

It means that our biological identity is written into us, and that men and women are made to be together, to find love and comfort in one another and the capacity to make new life together, in other words, procreation.

 

It’s important to say, that creativity is focused in, but not restricted to, children.

 

Marriage is a gift of God, the Wedding Service continues, through which husband and wife may know the grace of God.

 

That’s another way of saying marriage is a sacrament – an outward sign of an inner grace – that benefits husband and wife.

 

Genesis is clear. Men and women are to complete not compete with each other; one is not superior and the other inferior. Sadly, of course, human nature being what it is forgets this all too easily and women have often been on the receiving end of that.

 

Two equal but different partners become husband and wife, as a sign pointing to something even bigger than themselves.

 

If marriage is a sign of something bigger than itself, which is what Jesus is saying, then what is it?

 

The Marriage service says that the union of a man and woman in marriage sees them, ‘grow together in love and trust, [and] be united with one another in heart, body and mind’, the point being as Christ is united with his bride, the Church.

 

This is where the readings lead us.

 

They speak of the union of a man and a woman; they speak of its fruitfulness, of children and of love; they speak of faithfulness in the marriage covenant.

 

And in doing so they speak of the union of God and man; they speak of the fruitfulness of the Holy Spirit and of gift of life in all its abundance; they speak of God’s faithfulness in the Covenant.

That’s why marriage is a high calling; Jesus is unambiguous about the demands of it.

 

Human beings don’t all succeed in sustaining the marriage union, just as all of us succumb to unfaithfulness and adultery in our union with God.

 

Other gods – with a small ‘g’ – catch our attention and imagination: read the book of Hosea for a devastating critique of that.

 

We err and stray; spiritually we ‘play away from home’, which we should call what it really is: adulterous betrayal.

 

That break, that divorce, in covenant and communion is deeply painful and sad.

 

Yet God calls us back insistently and continues to invite us to the life of heaven, what he calls ‘The Marriage Banquet of the Lamb of God’, a marriage and banquet that we see in Holy Communion.

 

Whether you are single, married or widowed you are called to union with Christ in his marriage banquet at his altar.

 

We ‘get hitched’ to Jesus at our baptism; we ‘walk up the aisle’ every time we step forward to come to Holy Communion; we ‘tie the knot’ when we receive his body and blood.

 

But our marriage to Jesus it is not ‘till death us do part’, for through his saving death on the cross, our union is consummated in the banquet of heaven.

 

And, please God, may we never - as a Church and individual Christians – never ever divorce ourselves from his love.

 

All is Grace: A Harvest Homily

Joel 2.21-27 God pours down abundance upon you

1 Timothy 6.6-10 The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil

Matthew 6.25-33 Your heavenly Father knows all your needs, but seek first the kingdom of God

 

 

 

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‘Grace’ is the word we Christians use to account for the gift of God, that God bestows on us, simply by being God.

 

That sounds both quite simple and quite dense all at the same time; and it’s a really important basic of Christianity.

 

God gives of Godself.

 

Grace means ‘gift’: freely given; unmerited; unearned.

 

Out of nothing God brought the creation into being.

 

Out of nothing he brought you and me into being.

 

That’s grace in action.

 

The sun and moon, the stars, the wind, the mountains and hills, trees, seas creatures, birds of the air and cattle, me and you – none of us did anything that deserved to be created, and none of us can be fulfilled any more than to praise and magnify our Maker eternally.

 

With all the elements of creation we are creatures, albeit - as we shall see – we are creatures bestowed with a responsibility and capacity to respond to grace.

 

This sense of the graced nature of the creation and our lives is captured by St Paul when he says:

 

we brought nothing into the world, so that we can take nothing out of the world. (1 Timothy 6.7)

 

They’re words used at a funeral service, and perhaps really should be uttered at a birth.

 

We brought nothing in, we take nothing out: all is grace.

 

Actually, these words are for every single day.

 

It’s no use saying thank you for the gift of life, of food, of clothing annually and neglect to say it daily.

 

That is why I am such an advocate of the practice of saying ‘grace’, as it is known, before meals: in that way we hallow the gift we receive ultimately from the abundance of God’s creation.

 

Saying ‘grace’ acknowledges that all that sustains body and soul is [God’s] grace.

 

But grace can be dis-graced.

 

A graceful life - a life full of grace - is a life lived open to the prompting and gift of God, it is a life which the Christian aims for, being so at one with God, in Christ, in the power of the Holy Spirit, that all that we think and speak and do is animated by Him.

 

A dis-graceful life - a life evacuated of grace - is a life shut down to the prompting and gift of God, it is an unrighteous life, that rejects grace, rejects the gift of God, and seeks other routes to contentment: money and power and prestige being the obvious ways.

 

St Paul nails it again, from our second reading:

 

…those who want to be rich fall into temptation and are trapped by many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, and in their eagerness to be rich some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pains. (1 Timothy 6.9,10)

 

So, a driven pursuit of wealth, power and prestige is dis-graceful and leads not to contentment but to ‘many pains’.

 

The call of the scriptures is to graceful, full of grace, lives; lives that are contented.

 

The full of grace life knows its dependence on God.

 

This is the life of a saint.

 

The Archangel addresses the Blessed Virgin Mary in a Greek phrase hard to translate but is best rendered “filled with grace”, “created by grace”, “full of grace” (Luke 1.28).

 

St Stephen, the first Christian martyr, is described as being ‘full of grace and power’ (Acts of the Apostles 6.8)

 

And all this comes from Jesus Christ who is, in the words of St John’s Gospel, ‘full of grace and truth’ (John 1.14) and that from his abundance ‘we have all received, grace upon grace’.

 

The saintly life which, frankly, we are all called to, otherwise you might as well go home now, is one that is grace-ful and grateful.

 

The life of the saint is a life that fixes first on God’s life and grace, in other words on the kingdom of God.

 

It is a graceful life that Jesus describes in today’s gospel, a life that lives non-anxiously, but lives thankfully.

 

And it seems our fellow creatures are somewhat better at doing this than we are.

 

Consider, says Jesus, the birds of the air or the lilies of the field.

 

The birds don’t stockpile and, ironically, they don’t even have a ‘nest egg’; but they are fed and are sustained.

 

The lilies of the field, with their surpassing beauty, don’t angst in the mirror, or on social media, about how they look; but they are simply beautiful.

 

Seeking first the kingdom of God, and putting aside our worries, cares and concerns, even about things we think are so important, is the start of the graceful life, or perhaps the recovery of it.

 

The time we live really graceful lives is when we know our need for grace, or even more just live in grace.

 

The infant at her mother’s breast has no concept of worrying about what to eat or drink or about being clothed.

 

Likewise, the person with dementia or with Down’s Syndrome, who accepts care and feeding, without asking for it or seeking it, lives close alongside grace.

 

Isn’t it telling that our culture is so scared of both the dependent infant and frail adult.

 

We have become so dis-gracefully nihilistic that we can’t savour the gifts we have, but resort to a destructive path that shuts God, our creator, out of the picture.

 

Little wonder that inconvenient lives are valued less than ones that appear rich, successful, powerful, prestigious.

 

How contrary to the Gospel is that?

 

Let’s go back to grace.

 

The most beautiful human life, is a life responding to grace.

 

It is a life of gratitude that knows it’s dependence and that offers all it has back to its creator ‘lost in wonder, love and praise’.

Welcome the love of Christ as a child

Wisdom 2.12,17-20 The wicked prepare to ambush the just man

James 3.16-4.3 The wisdom that comes from above makes for peace

Mark 9.30-37 Anyone who welcomes one of these in my name welcomes me

 

 

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We learn lots of things when we’re on the move.

 

I have on my bookshelf a book called A Philosophy of Walking.

 

It reminds us that there is something about walking along with others that makes our quality of conversation different from when, say, we’re sitting face to face in a meeting or other setting.

 

In scripture then it’s no surprise that whilst people walk along that transformational happen.

 

Two dejected disciples walk along with a stranger who opens up the Bible for them, so much so that afterwards they describe their hearts as ‘burning within us’ as they walked along and he talked. The stranger was Jesus Christ.

 

Saul of Tarsus, persecutor of the Church, was on his way to arrest more Christians in Damascus.

 

On that journey he was struck down by a dazzling light that blinded him; the blinding refocused his vision so that he, who we know as St Paul, recognised that the light was… Jesus Christ.

 

Philip the Apostle was walking along a road in Gaza, of all places, when a chariot came alongside him and he chatted with an eminent Ethiopian man who quizzed him about the Bible: ‘who is this suffering servant that the prophet Isaiah writes about?’ (cf Acts 8.26-40) They discuss. Of course, the suffering servant is… Jesus Christ.

 

Here’s a great spiritual discipline.

 

Try walking, slowly.

 

Look around.

 

Sense what is going on.

 

Look forward.

 

Sideways.

 

Look up (but don’t trip).

 

There’s no hurry; put your phone down, take off your headphones.

 

Slow walking – spiritual and physical - will help you foster an awareness that opens you up to transformation, a moment when you realise that walking alongside you, behind you and in front of you is… Jesus Christ.

 

Now, that is all in contrast to the discussion taking place amongst the disciples as they walk along with Jesus, as described in our gospel reading.

 

They walked through Galilee, a region of northern Israel. Here with Jesus Christ absolutely present to them – not talking about him, but talking with him – what is their reaction?

 

They don’t understand and because they don’t understand they are scared.

 

There is a lot to understand about life, faith and being a Christian, but there is absolutely  nothing to be fearful of, save losing those things that are not of Christ.

 

Christ’s ‘perfect love casts out fear’ (1 John 4.18).

 

What last week’s Gospel reading, and today’, tells us is that the way we find life, life in all its abundance (John 10.10) is through letting go of self and embracing Christ; this is what it means to ‘take hold of the life that really is life’ (2 Timothy 6.19).

 

The response of faith, and hope, and love is not the abject fear of losing the things I have become comfortable with, ingrained habits of sin or denial of God’s mercy, but the response is rather a holy fear, of awe and trembling before the majesty of God.

 

Walking along that road, the non-understanding, fearful disciples, begin calculating what they will lose, in worldly terms, if they indeed follow this man to Jerusalem and to suffering, betrayal and crucifixion: ‘take up your cross and follow me’ he has said (cf Mark 8.34-37)

 

So as they walk they shut down, they turn in on themselves and start arguing about who is the greatest of them – something they can’t even admit to, not out loud, even to Jesus - because they know the grasp for human greatness, adulation – other people cooing over them – is seductive and addictive.

 

What we so often want are those intoxicating things money, sex, power, adulation, fame, perfection, and just other people thinking we’re great, or at least okay.

 

It’s frightening to hear that all that counts for nothing in the eyes of the God who loves us .

 

That is where the example of the child comes in.

 

It’s not that Christ says we are, or should be, immature, or kept in a forced state of naivete, but he says accept love without question and without condition.

 

The love of God is not a transaction to enter into or a bargain, but something to bathe in.

 

The child receives love in that way, and we start losing that wonderful gift all too quickly.

 

‘Revisit’, Jesus is saying, ‘what it is simply to be loved without having to prove anything to anyone’.

 

If, as St Thomas Aquinas puts it, love is ‘willing the good of the other for the sake of the other’, then that is first what Christ gives us and, second, what disposition towards others must be.

 

I love not because I want or need to win; I love not to make up for a lack in myself; I love simply because I love and will the good of the other without condition.

 

With that assurance of love and salvation, we don’t need to worry about what we don’t understand of our faith – it’s about the heart before the head – we don’t need to be fearful, we don’t need to retreat into power struggles and asserting ourselves over others.

 

Rather, we find the strongest way of all, the virtuous way, the true way, the way of Jesus Christ, where we walk the path of life simply savouring the fact that we are loved, and receiving that love as a child, without fear or anxiety.

 

Welcome that love, for then you welcome Christ and the loving Father whose face he reveals.