Artisans of Reconciliation: Ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven

 

Last week Fr Joe shared with us a saying of Pope Francis that Christians are to be ‘artisans of reconciliation’.

 

An artisan is someone who crafts things that are both useful and beautiful.

 

Our Christian ‘craft’ is reconciliation with God and with one another, within and beyond the church: and reconciliation is both useful and beautiful.

 

Through time and application we can begin to master our craft and make something of enduring value. That is what we call the 'journey of discipleship'.

 

Another word for disciple could be ‘apprentice'. The Christian faith is an apprenticeship in reconciliation and love on all levels.

 

The artisan needs tools. If we are to be ‘artisans of reconciliation’ we need some tools for our craft.

 

The tool presented to us in this morning’s gospel reading is forgiveness.

 

It is not single-use-forgiveness, but forgiveness that endures, is patient, is costly and that aches for reconciliation.

 

The letter to the Colossians says, ‘God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross’ (Colossians 1.20).

 

Forgiveness flows from the heart of Jesus - his heart wounded on the cross - and Jesus calls us to forgive our brothers and sisters, our fellow human beings, from the heart.

 

Reconciliation between human beings heals the wounded heart of Jesus, because the mission and purpose of Jesus Christ is to ‘reconcile all things to himself’ and he does this through forgiveness: ‘Father, forgive them’.

 

Perhaps the greatest hurdle is first to know that we are forgiven.

 

Knowing yourself to be forgiven enables forgiveness to flow. The slave in the parable did not realise that forgiveness is a gift: ‘give’ is part of forgive. And he was unable to forgive even a smaller debt of his fellow slave.

 

‘Forgive our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’ as we pray with Jesus in the ‘Our Father’.

 

Forgiveness also takes us deep into the complexities of the human heart.

 

When I make my confession - and seek forgiveness from God - I am seeking to go deep into my heart to uncover, to name and to confess the actions, the grievances and grudges, the long held hurts and irritations which have separated me from my Maker and from my fellow creatures.

 

It’s little wonder that people shy away from Confession. But what a release! To know that I am released from those things, that they have no hold over me and I am free to love and therefore reconciled to God. I am, as the hymn puts it, ‘ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven’.

 

Forgiveness is deep and complex, it is subtle but brings about amazing things.

 

Forgiveness raises hard questions: are there things, are there people, that can never be forgiven? Are some things, some people, just too bad to be forgiven? Why should I repeatedly forgive someone who keeps making the same mistake, or misdemeanour or sin?

 

When I forgive I am giving away my grievances and resentments. I am not suspending pain, I am not forgetting what has been done to me, I am not capitulating to the person who has wronged me.

 

When Gee Walker forgave the racist killers of her son Anthony, after his murder in 2005, she did a remarkable thing, driven by her Christian discipleship, her apprenticeship in the ways of reconciliation and love.

 

Her forgiveness did not undermine justice; the murderers went to prison for 23 years and 17 years.

 

Her forgiveness did not end her pain; she lost her son.

 

But as a Christian Gee Walker knew that forgiveness is never a dead end. Forgiveness renews people and situations, it restores relationships, it opens up future possibilities. Gee Walker was not capitulating to those who wronged her but was saying that they would have no more power over her. Forgiveness is strength, forgiveness is dignity.

 

Not to forgive would have locked her into never being able to live again: living again, being alive, is the fruit of forgiveness and reconciliation. This is resurrection life, life beyond resentment, reconciled life.

 

There are many things that might be weighing heavy on our hearts today: perhaps grievance, anger or bitterness, memory of trauma or pain or just the niggles of everyday life and rubbing up alongside tricky people. Take those people with you to the reconciling heart of Jesus; pray for them and yourself to the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.

 

As artisans of reconciliation we have the tool of forgiveness: being forgiven and being forgiving. And all this flows from God.

 

How about this week try it out afresh? As an artisan of reconciliation, and knowing yourself to be forgiven in Christ, look out for opportunities to forgive. And go out in newness of life: ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven.

 

 

Jesus the Vine: Abide in my love.

A sermon preached at Guildford Cathedral on the Fifth Sunday of Easter. (Genesis 22, John 15.1-8.)

Jesus said, ‘Abide in me as I abide in you’. Alleluia.

+ In name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

You don’t have to venture to the hills of Burgundy, Bordeaux or even California to see vines growing. In our own diocese today you could go along the Hog’s Back or over to Denbies at Dorking, just as you could have done during the Roman occupation of this land, and see vines stretching across hills.

Viticulture is ancient and widespread, and is drawn upon in today’s gospel reading: ‘I am the vine; you are the branches’.

Jesus’ declares himself to be the vine and his disciples to be the branches; telling us that we are in an intimate, life-giving relationship with him, so that we may abide in him and he in us.

The vine branch draws its sustaining life from the trunk of the vine; so much so that it is impossible to tell exactly where the vine ends and the branch begins. In one sense they are so united, vine or branch is a false distinction.

This is a relationship of intimacy and life. Perhaps the only other time we know such intimacy is as an unborn child through the umbilical cord when we are grafted into the life of another. In the womb we are held in the waters of amniotic fluid, but now have been reborn through the waters of creation and new creation; of baptism.

Through that birth we are grafted into the source of all life in the name of Jesus Christ, in whom we hope, sustained in the power of the Holy Spirit.

This defines the character of our relationship with God as Christians.

For the Jewish people it is defined through Covenant and Torah; the way of life attends to a covenant relationship with God in which the Jewish people honour their relationship with the God of Abraham, who called them out of Egypt and gave them freedom in the Promised Land. That covenant is the way they remain faithful to God, trusting that God remains faithful to them.

In Islam the Muslim’s relationship with God is through submission to God in prayer, almsgiving and pilgrimage.

The character of the Christian's relationship with God is union with God in the power of the Holy Spirit in the Name of Jesus Christ. In other words, life flows into us from God, and our hopes, expectations and desires are met most fully in him such that we take on God’s character: this is what it means to dwell, remain, abide in God’s love; this is what it means to grow into the full stature of Christ.

Jesus describes this in the image of the vine. As Cyril of Alexandria puts it:

The Lord calls himself the vine and those united to him branches in order to teach us how important it is for us to remain in his love. By receiving the Holy Spirit, who is the bond of union between us and Christ our Saviour, those who are joined to him, as branches are to a vine, share in his own nature.

From a Commentary on St John’s Gospel

Abide in my love. Our first reading explored the nature of relationships human and divine. It is through the relationship of Abraham and Isaac, the relationship of Abraham and God. This is a deeply disturbing passage too. Is this really what God will ask of Abraham to sacrifice his own son? What of the boy’s mother? These questions and more that arise from this passage are important and not to be dismissed.

In relation to the Jesus the Vine the story of Abraham and Isaac points us to contemplate our own relationship with God in Christ and how we abide in his love.

As the Church Father, Origen, reminds us, the passage from Genesis echoes – or, rather, prefigures – the death of Jesus Christ. Like Isaac Christ is faithful to the Father’s word; he carries the wood for his own death as did Isaac; Isaac ascends a mountain as Christ ascended the hill of Calvary; like Isaac, Christ willingly lies down upon the instrument of his death. And that is where the parallels break down, for Christ himself is the Lamb of God, not caught in a thicket, but who does die upon the cross, so that we may abide in his love.

The relationship we are invited into through baptism is not the one that is required of Abraham in which he is put to the test. In fact it is the relationship prefigured by Abraham that the Lord will provide for us. God’s own son becomes the Lamb of God who's blood is shed for the life of the world.

As we abide in his love the beating heart of Christ pumps into us the lifeblood of God.

These rich themes are picked up in our understanding of how Christ’s lifeblood runs in our veins through the sacraments of baptism and Eucharist. A prayer offered quietly by the priest at the preparation of the chalice of wine captures it:

‘By the mystery of this water and wine may we come to share in the divinity of Christ who humbled himself to share in our humanity.’

The grapes of the vine come to fruition and then are crushed to extract their juice. This juice becomes life in the Eucharist, connecting us to the life-giving sacrifice of Christ. It’s put beautifully in a prayer at the preparation of the altar in Holy Week:

Jesus, true vine and bread of life,

ever giving yourself that the world might live,

let us share your death and passion:

make us perfect in your love.

So we abide, remain, dwell in God’s love so that we share his life as he shares ours. This takes us on a mystical and wonderful journey of seeking to become the person who God made us to be such that we pray, ‘That we may evermore dwell in him and he in us’.