A sermon for the Presentation of Christ in the Temple

First preached as sermon at Croydon Minster on the feast of The Presentation of Christ in the Temple

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A community - spanning the generations - with the eyes of all fixed upon Jesus Christ.

That is a pretty reasonable working definition of what a church is called to be: a community, those who break bread together - spanning the generations - with the eyes of all fixed upon Jesus Christ, God Incarnate.

It is something of the scene described in this morning’s gospel reading. A woman and a man - Anna and Simeon - both advanced in years; both expectant and full of hope praying in the Temple: a woman and man, Mary and Joseph, two young parents expectant and full of hope bringing their child to the Temple as required by the Law of Moses.

Anna and Simeon are in the Temple, the place of encounter with God, looking for the coming Lord.

They could have said, as the psalm puts it, ‘we wait for thy loving-kindness, O Lord: in the midst of thy Temple’ (Psalm 48.8).

In the arms of his Mother, Jesus Christ is brought into their midst: the Hope of the Nations, the Light to Enlighten All People, God’s Own Salvation.

The words of the prophet Malachi are fulfilled for Anna and Simeon, ‘the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple’ (Malachi 3.1).

So we have the elders, Anna and Simeon, and the young parents, Mary, Jesus’ mother and Joseph, her husband and Jesus’ guardian.

This is the image from the icon of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple that you have on the prayer cards distributed this morning.

From left to right:

Joseph stands holding the two young pigeons for the sacrificial offering in the Temple and gazing over at Jesus.

Next to him is Anna, pointing at Mary, whose role was always to be the Mother of God, in Greek Theotokos, also translated, Godbearer. And Anna looks at Mary’s Son and holds in her hand an unfurled scroll with words of prophecy and expectation about Christ.

Then there is Mary herself, who has handed over her child - from the vestibule to the sanctuary - and like Anna, she has a gesture of pointing towards Jesus.

Then the heart of the icon: all eyes are directed at Jesus, who gives the appearance of tugging Simeon’s beard (just like when I have baptised babies and had my nose pinched, lapel microphone torn off and eye poked: yes, all that has happened).

And Simeon bears in his hands his Saviour and ours. It is almost as if he is receiving Holy Communion, and indeed he is, and look at the warmth of his loving gaze, and the reverence of his receiving of Jesus.

This is an inter-generational scene if ever there was one. The church is one of the few places that young and old come together, not graded by precedence but on an equal footing, because we are all here as children of the Most High, children of God.

Receiving Jesus is at the heart of Candlemas and the Christian life. And it has a practical outworking that we’ve been pondering in this church over since the Feast of the Epiphany.

How we receive children in church is a measure of our delight, valuing and welcome of the youngest into our midst, even if they figuratively pinch our noses, poke our eyes, or, more likely, bellow and wail.

Modern re-working of the traditional icon
of the Presentation, seen in a church in Ghent

Last Sunday leaders and helpers from our groups for children and young people at this church met to consider how best our children and young people might be served here, and how they remind us all of the call to be welcoming and hospitable to everyone.

That is what our Candlemas prayer card is for, that we might pray for the whole church family so that we may all, young and old, grow in wisdom.

So Candlemas tells us to welcome the young, appreciate those nurturing the young, and also value the precious wisdom that can come with years.

On one level that just gives us a sociological insight into the church; that is, if we fail to see that what is being presented in Christ is the mystery of his incarnation and the fullness of the Gospel. That’s what Simeon and Anna, Mary and Joseph see in the Temple when Christ is presented there.

The presentation of Christ in the Temple moves us on from any sociological observations and takes us deep into the realities of life and mortality, love and loss, hopes and pain.

Avoidance of the cost and pain of life and Christian discipleship does no one, least of all our children, any favours. The gospel is cheapened when we airbrush out the radicalism of its power, and try and blunt its dramatic message and full implications. That would be to proclaim Easter with the Cross. It’s what the twentieth century German theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer calls ‘cheap grace’:

Cheap grace is the grace we bestow on ourselves. Cheap grace is the preaching of forgiveness without requiring repentance, baptism without church discipline, Communion without confession... Cheap grace is grace without discipleship, grace without the cross, grace without Jesus Christ, living and incarnate. (Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship)

Grace is free, but should never be cheapened; that’s Bonhoeffer’s point. Cheap grace does not equip us to handle the predicament of being human, loving and losing, cherishing and weeping:

Anna knows God’s free gift of grace, having lived a life in loneliness as a widow for many years, worshipping and fasting, yet until this moment never having her hopes truly fulfilled. 

Simeon, a righteous man, knows God’s liberating grace as he sees his mortality in a new and liberating way: he can now die, knowing he has seen the Lord’s Messiah.

Mary learns of the costly grace that will come with the redeeming death of her son on the cross, as a sword pierces her own soul.

This is profoundly realistic about life. Christians do not live in cocoons. If we walk the way of the cross we can’t.

That is what the Candlemas Procession tells us: knowing Christ as Emmanuel, God with us, through his incarnation - and bearing candles signifying that light - we turn – young and old - from the Crib to the Cross, from the birth to the death of Jesus. Mortality is never far from our doors. Yet marked with the sign of the cross, recipients of the blood of Christ, our hope is well placed in the Light to enlighten the nations, Jesus Christ, our hope and our salvation.

Simeon glimpsed this truth and will have recognised its coming in every fibre of his being, for, as he knew from the psalms:

‘… this God is our God for ever and ever: he shall be our guide unto death’ (Psalm 48.13)

Flowing Blessings: A Sermon for the baptism of Christ

First preached as a sermon at Croydon Minster on the Feast of the Baptism of Christ, 12^th January 2020. Readings: Isaiah 42.1-9; Matthew 3.13-17

                                                                            

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The liturgical year moves swiftly on,

like a mighty flowing river.

No sooner than we celebrate the birth of Jesus

Than we celebrate the Epiphany,

            and the visit of the Magi would have been some while

            after his birth.

And today we celebrate

            the Baptism of Christ,

which we know to have been 30 years after his birth.

The liturgical year

            isn’t concerned with keeping to time,

                        but with

            revealing the mysteries of God.

The Baptism of Christ sits beautifully

            in this wonderful season of light    

                        that spills out

            from the celebration of his birth.

It is a rich,

and densely packed,

mystical moment.

            The heavens open!

It is another Epiphany,

            a manifestation,

                        a showing forth

            of the glory of God

                        revealed in human flesh:

            it is an incarnation moment.

It is a moment

when we apprehend

the movement of the Blessed Trinity –

            Father, Son and Holy Spirit –

                        the Spirit descends like a dove,

                                    and the Heavenly Father declares

                                                of Jesus,

                                    ‘this is my Son, the Beloved’.

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I was at our cathedral church in Southwark last week

            for the Mass of Requiem

of a former Vicar of Croydon,

            Bishop Ronald Bowlby,

who died just before Christmas.

Bishop Ronnie was Vicar during the centenary celebrations

            of the consecration of this church,

                        and this afternoon we begin our celebrations

                                    of 150 years since the consecration.

In the cathedral

there is a crib scene

of life size figures around the font of the cathedral.

Flanked by his blessed Mother, Mary, and St Joseph

            the Christchild

appears to be resting on the font itself.

It’s a fascinating juxtaposition

            of the birth of Christ

                        and our baptism.

Baptism is a birth:

            birth into

                        the life of the heart of God;

            birth into

                        the Church,

                                    the Body of Christ;

            birth in

                        the Holy Spirit.

And that life itself

            should flow out of us

            into the world

                        that is created

                                    and hallowed

                        by God.

One of the tasks of a Christian

             day by day

is to proclaim,

            live out

                        and be

God’s blessing

            in a world that seems bereft of blessing today.

An expression of that

will take place today

from the cathedral, as, after the Eucharist,

the Bishop and congregation goes out

            to bless

                        and hallow

            the waters of the River Thames

from the bridge linking Southwark Cathedral with St Paul’s.

It’s not just a quaint ceremony,

            but a confident declaration

                        that God’s blessing

            is the life

            running through our communities

                        like a mighty river.

As Christ was plunged into the waters of baptism

            at the hands of our own patron saint, St John the Baptist,

so he bestows

            and hallows

the waters of the new Creation:

            as he says,

‘The water that I will give will become in [you] a spring of water gushing up to eternal life’ (John 4.14b).

Water is the stuff of life;

            the stuff of life

                        is made holy

            by Christ:

                        the One

            who transformed water

                        into rich wine at the Wedding Feast.

The River Wandle

            no longer runs past the Minster,

but if it did,

I hope we would be out there

            blessing the waters.

In the absence of an actual river

            we’re prompted to reflect on the blessings

                        that we yearn

                                    to see

                                                flowing

                        from this church today:

            we can touch people’s lives and hearts

                        with the flowing blessings of Christ.

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We want to see

            the gospel of Jesus Christ flowing

                        like a mighty river

            through the heart of this town of Croydon.

We said that in our church vision day last summer.

This church

            is the ancient

                        and enduring

            spiritual heart of Croydon.

We don’t want it to be

            a stagnant tributary,

                        but a life bearing river,

            teeming with blessing

                        and hope.

In the prophet Ezekiel

            we see a vision of the Temple

from which flows water.

            It’s the text known as Vidi Aquam

                        that will be sung

            as water is sprinkled

                        from the font in this liturgy.

Water flows from each corner of the Temple

            getting deeper

                        and deeper,

            flowing from the Temple,

                        out

                                    beyond itself

            into a stagnant salty sea

                        which is then transformed

            and teems with fish

                        and life.

Oh to be that sort of Temple!

In the 150^th year

            of the hallowing of this building

                        may our culture and expectation here

                                    be one of abundance

                                                and not scarcity;

            one that celebrates the blessings,

                        the life of the teeming town of Croydon.

When it rains heavily

            the Minster can appear to have a moat,

such is the poor drainage.

We don’t want to be

            a moated,

            cut off community –

                        quite the opposite! –

            we yearn to be

                        a community that flows out

            with life beyond ourselves:

                        are you; are we, ready for that?

A church is consecrated;

            people are baptised.

Both

are temples of the Spirit,

            houses of prayer

                        and of the abiding presence

            of Christ.

Tomorrow the Church Council, the PCC,

            will be considering

                        how we renew the life of this church

            by beginning to sketch out a ‘strategy’

                        for our work with Children and Young People (CYP).

            The young bring life.

As we consider the place of the CYP of our church,

            and honour that place,

we find that it tells us about the sort of church

            we might really be.

Do we merely tolerate

            or really welcome

the young,

            or anyone for that matter?

How a church treats its CYP

            reveals a great deal:

                        about

                                    how seriously it really welcomes, cherishes and values

                                    everyone - regardless of age, background etc, - unconditionally;

                        about

                                    how open it is

                                    to transformation

                                    and growth;

                        and about

                                    how it really values people

                                                for who they are now,

                                    not just as some sort of insurance policy

                                                for the church

                                    continuing when we’re all dead!

Developing a strategy for CYP

            is one a way in to clarifying a vision

                        of the church

            and it has a missional impetus too:

engaging with CYP means

also engaging with

                        their families

            and supporting parents and carers,

                        who are the primary catechists –

                                    teachers and nurturers in the church;

it makes us reflect

            more widely

            on catechesis beyond the young in years,

                        to the young and immature in the faith

                                    (who may be advanced in years);

it makes us reflect

            on the sacraments of initiation – baptism and confirmation;

            about how we equip,

                        and are equipped to be,

                                    lifelong disciples;

it makes us think

            about how we connect

                        with other aspects of the life of our wider community

                                    institutionally and personally,

                        with schools, playgroups, young carers.

Christ stepped out of the River Jordan

            and his public ministry

                        of healing,

                        forgiving

                        and revealing the mysteries of God

            flowed out from him

                        in the wilderness.

As we celebrate the consecration of this building

            and our own baptism

both to be temples of the Holy Spirit,

may we be:

             healed and healing;

                        forgiven and forgiving;

                                    alive and life-giving.

Then we will truly be

            a blessing

                        to our community

                                    it all its teeming diversity.

Pray that the Holy Spirit

            will flow around this church,

                        and this community.

Pray for discernment and wisdom

            and please pray particularly

for our children and young people,

            giving thanks

                        for the life they bring to us

                        in Christ.

Amen.