Embodying holiness

Preached as a sermon at Croydon Minster on Sunday 29 August. Readings: Deuteronomy 4.1-2, 6-9; James 1.17-end; Mark 7.1-8, 14,15, 21-23

Over the last few Sundays we have heard from the sixth chapter of St John’s gospel. That’s the chapter that opens with the Feeding of the Five Thousand, an event that is ‘unpacked’ as we receive Jesus’ teaching on how he is the Bread of Life and how we participate in his life as we consume the Bread of Life.

 

Eating and nourishing: it’s all very physical; of the body.

 

As Christians, we should know that bodies matter.

 

At the heart of our faith is the incarnation, which is the ultimate in saying that human bodies matter to their Maker, to God. The incarnation tells us that the Eternal Word, Jesus Christ, takes human flesh: that is; has a body, is a body. That’s what St John is saying when he declares ‘the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us’ (John 1.14)

 

That divine body nestles and grows in the womb of the human body of Mary, which is why we honour her so highly as the Mother of God.

 

In John chapter six, and elsewhere in the Gospels, Jesus is clear that to participate in his life we need to connect with his body in a physical way, the act of eating.

 

Christianity is not a religion of the mind or intellect disconnected from the body; that’s the way known as Gnosticism which is ultimately body hating. Indeed we declare, in the Creed, we believe in the Resurrection of the Body, in other words one’s soul and body are so intimately connected that God will raise both together.

 

In society today we see signs of body discomfort, to put it mildly. There’s the idolising of the body – think Love Island - and the loathing of the body when people speak of being trapped in a body, as if their body is not part of them.

 

There is a growing separation of body and mind in the Western outlook. It was put a long time ago by René  Descartes who said, ‘I think, therefore I am’. In other words, my thinking is what makes me, me. The limited body is apparently inconvenient to pure thought and reason.

 

The Olympic Games, and now the Paralympics, are fascinating because we see the human body pushed to the extremes of physical endurance, poise and power. But we also understand the intimate connection between body and mind. For the first time many athletes, such as Simone Biles, have spoken of the pressures on their minds as much as their bodies.

 

It rather gave the lie to the idea that if you want something enough, as an act of will of the mind, then you can have it. That is the route to deep frustration and malaise. Do you not want it enough? Or do you blame your body, as if it is something remote from you? ‘My body let me down’.

 

So the relationship between the body and the mind, let alone the body and the soul, is the stuff of philosophical and theological discussion and practical application.

 

That reflection on the body gives the backdrop to how we might handle this morning’s gospel. What is Jesus talking about as he condemns the Pharisees for their outward practices of holiness and cleanliness?

 

First, we should note that the Pharisees were a group within first century Judaism. Often the legalism of the Pharisees has been used to dismiss Judaism down the centuries. Not all Jews were Pharisees, and indeed some of the first followers of Jesus were themselves Pharisees.

 

Pharisees sought holiness in everyday life, what we might call ‘embodied holiness’. That in itself is laudable and good, but as we shall see there is a flaw in the application.

 

The Pharisees wanted to take the holiness codes of the books of Leviticus and Deuteronomy that applied to temple priests and extend them to everyone. In so doing the practice became burdensome and, what Jesus really gets at, utterly hollow.

 

When Jesus comments on the practices of the Pharisees it was not the intention but the application that he takes issue with.

 

To hallow everyday life and action by infusing it with a vivid sense of God’s presence is a wonderful thing. Why not this week try and find small prompts in your day to spur you to the recollection of God’s presence so that you can embody holiness. That begins with cherishing the gift of the body God has given you and being at home in it.

 

For me, I wear a cross around my neck. As I put it on each morning I say the words of Jesus, ‘take up your cross daily and follow me’ (Luke 9.23). It is one small action I use to hallow the beginning of the day and intentionally commit myself again to the way of Jesus.

 

Saying grace before meals, a simple prayer of thanksgiving, is another great practice, whether eating alone or in company. It hallows the day and hallows the act of eating.

 

I could go on: prayer before bed, fish on Friday, saying the Angelus morning, noon and night, and such like, in these ‘little ways’, as St Therese of Lisieux called them, we can embody our desire for holiness.

 

There’s a health warning about holiness: it’s what Jesus pointed out with the Pharisees. No one wants to be called ‘holier than thou’. Holiness is never about superiority; that’s where the Pharisees fell short. Holiness doesn’t look down on others but invites them to look up to the Holy God.

 

The pursuit of holiness is what we do! ‘O worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness’ (Psalm 97).

 

Holiness connects body and soul. It’s about the inward movement of the heart as much as outward action. When the heart is right, holiness of thinking, speaking and acting will flow.

 

St Benedict counsels, ‘Do not aspire to be called holy before you really are, but first be holy that you may be truly called so.’ (The Rule of St Benedict, Chapter IV, 62 my emphasis).

 

We come now before the Holy God, seeking the holiness that is his gift, so that as we taste the body of Christ, the Bread of Life, we may be one of body and soul and live our lives to his glory.

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!