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.

 

 

Bitesize Catechesis - Penance

Bitesize Catechesis

‘Bitesize Catechesis’

‘Penance’. I wonder what that word means to you?

Perhaps it sounds a bit dark, difficult, burdensome, judgemental or harsh.

Or perhaps it makes you think of a new TV mini-series about to start on Tuesdays on Channel 5.

Either way, like fasting and almsgiving it’s not a word in general circulation.

Penance can refer to two things. First the act of making reparation for something that has been done wrong, or secondly the act of intentionally making confession of our sins.

I want to think about both meanings, but mostly about penance as the act of confession, particularly sacramental confession, which has become known also, and helpfully, as the Sacrament of Reconciliation.

Now there are those who say that the Church of England doesn’t do confession. Strange, because it does and it does because it’s deeply embedded in the scriptures.

Psalm 51 is a classic statement of confession, starting like this:

Have mercy upon me, O God, after thy great goodness: according to the multitude of thy mercies do away mine offences.

Wash me throughly from my wickedness: and cleanse me from my sin.

For I acknowledge my faults: and my sin is ever before me. (Psalm 51.3)

John the Baptist, our patron saint here, calls people to confession ‘proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins’ (Luke 3.3). And he does so in no uncertain terms: ‘you brood of vipers…’ (Luke 3.7).

And St James in his letter says, ‘The prayer of faith will save the sick, and the Lord will raise them up; and anyone who has committed sins will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, so that you may be healed. (James 5.15-16)

The Church of England has always retained sacramental Confession to a priest. In the Book of Common Prayer service The Visitation to the Sick it recommends that someone whose life is in danger or drawing to a close should confess their sins:

Here shall the sick person be moved to make a special confession of his sins, if he feel his conscience troubled with any weighty matter. After which confession, the Priest shall absolve him…

So Confession is not compulsory in the Church of England, at least not personal confession, but it is to be commended. At every Eucharist we begin with the penitential act of confession which is corporate if not individual.

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The prominence or otherwise of penance in the Church of England is by the by, and old debates have moved on.

There’s a deeper issue though and it relates to our sense of shame and/or guilt and fear of being judged, either by other people or by God.

None of us wants to be judged. ‘Don’t judge me’ is one of the cries of our times.

It’s a way of saying, ‘please don’t trample on my fragile sense of who I am. I am a harsh enough judge of myself, without you judging me too’.

Penance seems to be about judgement.

But without judgement we lose our sense of accountability. If I can’t be judged, I can’t be held accountable or responsible for what I say or do.

One way we can engage with what it means to be accountable, and take responsibility for our lives is to subject ourselves to judgement, so as when we make our confession, when we do penance.

But, boy, is that hard.

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It’s hard because then being judged gets mixed up with guilt.

Very often penance and confession are associated with guilt. And we have been trained in late modernity to believe guilt to be a dreadful thing.

Knowing that guilt is bad doesn’t make feelings of guilt go away. We even feel guilty about feeling guilty. And then guilt mutates into shame, which actually is rather worse.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks is very interesting on this subject.

He distinguishes between ‘guilt-cultures’ and ‘shame-cultures’.

His argument is that in a guilt-based culture you have forgiveness, and the moment you have forgiveness you can say ‘mea culpa, I did wrong’. You take ownership of your shortcomings and know that, somewhere down the line, there is forgiveness.

Today, and social media magnifies it, you are: ‘trolled’; ‘called out’; ‘no platformed’; ‘deleted’. That is a shame-culture and there is no forgiveness in a shame-culture. There is no way back. So in a shame-culture you deny you did wrong, and keep denying it.

Shame cultures create scapegoats. I don’t want to be shamed and ostracised so I point the finger at someone else whatever the cost. Shame feeds more shame and is utterly corrosive. It’s the story of Adam and Eve: they hide; they throw blame around.

One last thought on guilt: it can also be a prompt or spur to act better!

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Where does all this get us then?

The church has a means by which we can face up to, acknowledge, name and handover our sins and shortcomings. A place where we can be profoundly honest about ourselves. That is in confession, penance.

It is a place of reconciliation, restoration and forgiveness. It’s a way of rooting out the sins, that like weeds can become pernicious and invasive to our souls

Sin stunts who we are made to be; confession releases tension and self-loathing so that we are freed to be his children once again.

Someone once said that it is the most liberating thing to be called ‘a sinner’. It sounds really odd. It sounds like it diminishes who we are. It sounds like plain old-fashioned hellfire and damnation. But think about it: being declared ‘a sinner’ means there’s hope; being a sinner means we’re made good but fall short, and can be restored and renovated.

St Augustine saw penance as being therapeutic. Confessing our sins, he argued, is good for our souls, it is healing and helps us grow.

This is the spirit of what confession is about removing guilt by declaring forgiveness, sparing us shame and freeing us to be, as the hymn puts it, ‘ransomed, healed, restored, forgiven’.

I want to end by commending individual confession, penance, for precisely these reasons and as a way of growing in our faith and discipleship.

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Unlock: An Easter Call to the Church

First preached as a sermon on the Second Sunday of Easter at Croydon Minster, also the Sunday of the Annual Parochial Church Meeting. Text: John 20.19-31.

Alleluia. Christ is risen.

He is risen indeed. Alleluia.

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Over the last few months the nation has become wearily familiar with the Speaker of the House of Commons, after another vote in the House, bellowing, (and I won’t do an impersonation!) ‘unlock!’

Well, this morning’s Gospel reading is saying the same thing: it’s time to unlock!

Unlock your hearts. Unlock your minds. Unlock your bodies. Open up. Then step out into the world in faith, hope and love.

As we gather for this Eucharist, today the Second Sunday of Eastertide, the day of our Annual Parochial Church Meeting, the Gospel tells us that doors that were locked can be flung open; there is nothing to fear in being witnesses to the love of God in Christ Jesus.

The disciples locked themselves away ‘out of fear’. The keys to the Kingdom that Peter had been given by Christ had locked the door; when really they are for unlocking.

So Jesus Christ unlocks the doors of that room, where the disciples were fearfully huddled, in a threefold way: through peace, forgiveness and faith.

Peace. First, he extends his hands: ‘Peace be with you’ he says. Shortly we will share the Sign of Peace, and in Eastertide the introduction to the Peace draws directly on this morning’s gospel scene: ‘then were they glad when they saw the Lord’.

The exchange of the Sign of Peace is not to prompt backslapping bonhomie, or to catch up on old titbits of news, or even enquire after someone’s wellbeing: that is the behaviour of the locked away, the introspective and the clubbish.

The exchange of the Sign of Peace acknowledges the Peace that Christ brings dispels fearfulness such that we disarm ourselves and look out beyond ourselves.

The gift of peace to the disciples also turns them into being apostles, for they are sent in peace, to bring peace, to be peace-full. An apostle is one who is sent: ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you’ (John 20.21).

That’s what the final commission of the Eucharist is about: ‘Go in peace’! Flow out from here like life giving water - unlocked - bearing peace on your way.

And that’s the second gift there is: forgiveness. Christ the Unlocker breathes the Holy Spirit upon the apostles with the breath of forgiveness. The apostles are to be a forgiven and forgiving community.

There is immense power in this. Jesus is not giving them a power to withhold forgiveness, or not, as if it were their own to bestow. Rather, the power to forgive sins goes with the power of being forgiven by Jesus. Without forgiving others you will never know yourself to be forgiven; without knowing yourself to be forgiven, you will never forgive others.

Forgiveness in the Name of Jesus unlocks: it unlocks intractable situations (reconciliation - personal, corporate, international - flows from forgiveness). Forgiveness unlocks tangled up lives that have turned in on themselves; forgiveness unlocks and releases.

Confession of our sins, not the retention of other peoples’ sins, unlocks and unblocks our relationship with God and other people.

Peace. Forgiveness. Faith.

Faith unlocks. Faith, the Letter to the Hebrews tells us, is ‘the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen’ (Hebrews 11.1). It is faith that gives hope for the future, for the future is filled with things not seen.

What can give us assurance is what was tangible for Thomas. In the wounds of Christ we see, feel and touch the passionate love of God for us and the world. In his resurrection, the wounds of crucifixion don’t go away but are transformed into glorious signs of Christ’s commitment to us.

Faith, then, unlocks our imaginations and opens us up to the capacity that God has for renewal and transformation: the renewal and transformation of our personal lives, our relationships, our church, our world.

Peace. Forgiveness. Faith. Three signs of the presence of Christ, the One Who Unlocks.

So what locks you in? For many people what locks them in is fear: fear of failure, fear of being exposed for being some sort of fraud; fear that being true to one’s own convictions will expose one to ridicule, embarrassment or shame.

If you’re locked in, someone else is locked out. Being locked in creates divisions. You can see that in individual lives, amongst self-identifying groups and communities and between nations.

All this can be true of a church community too. Churches can go into spiritual, and physical, lock down. (After all, that’s what the embryonic church, the band of Christ’s disciples, did). We can look in on ourselves. We can keep things ticking over. We can take comfort in the familiar and what we can control. We can ‘batten down the hatches’. We lock ourselves in and lock others, including Jesus Christ, out.

In that situation Christ calls: ‘Unlock! Receive my peace; be forgiving and forgiven. Have faith’.

I know that is our heart’s desire here at this Minster Church: to unlock and open up.

That is about our spiritual disposition, what you could call our culture, and it’s about physical posture, in other words, our practice, what we do.

I detect a great yearning for this church to establish itself afresh as the ancient and enduring spiritual heart of this community of Croydon, not in splendid isolation but working with all who seek the Common Good, to be a symbol of God’s faithfulness over the centuries, God’s commitment to the present, and hope and faith for the future.

There is a desire to unlock, roll up our collective sleeves and serve our locality because “The joys and the hopes, the griefs and the anxieties of the people of this age, especially those who are poor or in any way afflicted, these are the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of the followers of Christ.” (Gaudium et Spes, 1)

I hope that our annual report is a reflection of all the wonderful things that happen here and an indication of all that can be unlocked here.

In the coming weeks we will have a chance to do some self-reflection, through the short questionnaire that you’re encouraged to complete, through praying for our church and gathering on 15^th June for a time when we can map out our vision as a church community.

That is not us being introspective or locked in, but being renewed to step out afresh, going in peace to love and serve the Lord.

In the coming months, leading to the autumn, the Church Council and I will be working on a new Mission Action Plan. That plan will have been deeply informed by our vision day in June. It will help us identify what you can call our ‘greater “yes”’, as we look towards God’s future with hope.

That Mission Action Plan will be our tool to unlock and open up our renewed vision, mission and purpose. There is so much we would love to do. Yet under God, a plan will identify the things that we say ‘yes’ to and embrace, and the things that, at this time, we need to say ‘no’ to. And it will ask us to identify the resources we need to realise it.

Knowing our ‘greater “yes”’ is what will unlock our energies and passions not for ourselves but for the sake of the Kingdom.

Unlocked living is about living life in all its abundance (cf John 10.10).

May that life, received in Word and sacrament, be an enduring feature of this church and all who pass through her doors, unlocked, for the sake of all people and the Kingdom, such that we go from here in peace, forgiven and forgiving, filled with faith to love and serve the Lord.

Full of compassion, and mercy, and love

First preached as an Evensong sermon at Croydon Minster on the Fourth Sunday of Lent. the readings were The Prayer of Manasseh and 2 Timothy 4.1-18.

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Our first reading tonight was from a book called The Prayer of Manasseh. It’s a little known text. It comes from the section of the Bible that is neither the Old Testament nor the New; a collection of books mostly written in Hebrew and Greek, that dates from before the time of Christ - and that seems well known to him - known sometimes as the Apocrypha or the Deuterocanonical Books of the Old Testament.

‘Apocrypha’ simply means ‘hidden writings’ and ‘deuterocanonical’ means ‘second canon’, or ‘second collection’, in other words another collection of books in addition to the Old and New Testament.

Some churches, mainly Protestant ones, don’t accept these books as Holy Scripture at all, and others, notably the Roman Catholic and Orthodox churches do. The Church of England, as ever, sits in between, stating “and the other [deuterocanonical] books (as Hierome saith) the Church doth read for example of life and instruction of manners; but yet doth it not apply them to establish any doctrine” (Articles of Religion).

What does that mean? The deuterocanonical books are not full blown scripture, so you can’t derive doctrine from them, but they are inspired and inspiring as we life out our Christian lives.

As an aside the Church of England does use deuterocanonical books in its services, the Canticle the Benedicite, Omnia Opera – ‘O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord’ - sung at Mattins in the Book of Common Prayer comes from the deuterocanonical text, The Song of the Three Children: did you know that was a book of the Bible?! And the Prayer of Manasseh itself is used daily at Morning Prayer during this season of Lent.

The deuterocanonical books have then a special status, not just works of poetry or myth; and, even if not decisive for Christian doctrine, they can be used in praise and worship.

In our second lesson St Paul warned about straying away from true teaching and frameworks, which is essentially what doctrine is, and that some people may have itchy ears and will believe anything they’re told.

As the writer G.K Chesterton once noted, “When [people] choose not to believe in God, they do not thereafter believe in nothing, they then become capable of believing in anything.”

I am glad to say that the Prayer of Manasseh is in no doubt about God, and God’s compassion, mercy and love.

That is the heart of doctrine, our understanding of God.

Doctrine is not a set of unrealistic, rigid rules that we cannot possibly live by; rather it is the distilled wisdom of the ages, drawn from contemplation of God, which releases us and frees us to embrace the compassion, mercy and love of God.

When we cut ourselves loose from that, as Chesterton warns, we can be like a ship with no rudder, drifting around, and unable to cope with the storms that life throws at us. Or we are like a climbing plant that has no trellis to hold on to and wrap around; we sway in any breeze and snap.

Sadly the word ‘doctrine’ has been caricatured and is probably more associated today with the idea of unacceptable ideas being forced on people.

The Creeds that we say each night at Evensong and at the Eucharist are themselves statements of doctrine that articulate our faith and understanding of God, without being contracts with legal clauses and sub-clauses.

Ultimately all doctrine leads us back to God. It is a far more intricate ecology than a legalistic set of statements: doctrine makes its fullest sense when we are at worship, in prayer and acting in loving service, always bringing us back to the very heart of God, made visible in Jesus Christ and sustained by the Holy Spirit.

Manasseh’s prayer is a meditation on the human relationship with God, wondering and delighting in God’s creative power known throughout the ages.

The mercy that flows from God is immeasurable and unsearchable for human beings but is knowable in God’s compassion and mercy towards us. And this mercy extends to God’s capacity to forgive and to be grace-full even when utterly unmerited by us.

Indeed, as Jesus says, the one who sins more knows more the forgiveness of God (Luke 7.47), not that, as St Paul reminds us that we should sin just so we know more of God’s grace! (Romans 6.1).

The task of doctrine is to draw us into the depths of the loving mercy of God. As has ever been the case, there are many distractions and breezes which can appear very attractive, easy or fun, that can blow us off course or blow us over.

A constant recourse to the Divine, loving heart of God will root us and help us to grow. The wisdom of Holy Scripture, articulated in the Prayer of Manasseh, in the proclamation of our patron saint, John the Baptist, and lived out in this time of Lent, is that when we turn earnestly to God in penitence, praise and wonder we will know his forgiveness, compassion and grace.

As the Prayer of Manasseh put it:

Unworthy as I am, you will save me,

according to your great mercy.

For all the host of heaven sings your praise,

and your glory is for ever and ever. (Manasseh 14b, 15b)