Sunday, 11 September 2016

Education Sunday: searching and re-searching God's wisdom

A sermon preached at All Saints, Onslow Village, Guildford, Education Sunday 11th September 2016
Luke 15:1-10.

Lord, you have searched me out and known me, you known my sitting down and my standing, you discern my thoughts from afar. (Psalm 139.1)

+ In nomine Patris…

Today is Education Sunday and as a chaplain at the University of Surrey I have, or at least should have, an interest in the subject.

Of course education is not just about universities, it’s not even about educational institutions like schools or colleges or courses but it is about the way in which we encounter every day as an opportunity to learn more about ourselves, about our world and environment, and most significantly about God.

Education is about being led into the mystery of God often just by glimpses, and is a powerful action of the Holy Spirit who leads us into all truth, often kicking and screaming and insisting on our own truth. Learning what we do not know is perhaps the most profound education of all!

Learning to live lives that are shaped like Jesus Christ helps us to learn what it means to be a true human being: made in the image and likeness and God and being restored in that image. This is what St Benedict in his Rule calls, ‘the school of the Lord’s service’. (Rule of St Benedict, Prologue, v. 45)

This morning’s gospel reading gives us two particular ways of thinking about education. First there is thinking about the method of education and then there is what the process of education actually is.

Jesus the Teacher - Coptic Icon
Jesus, as we can all agree, is an excellent teacher. If he wasn’t a great teacher then the chances are that we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Without good and clear teaching from Jesus, the first disciples would never have grasped what the gospel was about, and those who received the disciples’ testimony and teaching would never have been able to pass it on themselves. The transmission of faith relies on well taught people communicating the faith that they have received and learnt, even if they don’t grasp every last word.

So Jesus was a great teacher both in his method and content and both the method and content turn us into life-long learners.

His teaching style is characterised by taking questions head on, and, in the typical style of the Rabbis of his time, either to answer with a question or to tell a story.

These stories of memorable teaching are the parables: and we have two of those in this morning’s gospel reading. And in these parables Jesus both asks a question: which of you on losing a sheep or losing a coin would go all out to find that which is lost? And he tells a story: of the shepherd who searches, and finds and brings the found sheep home rejoicing and of the woman who diligently searches her home to pick up her silver coin.

Even if they’re not the best known of the parables many long standing Christians don’t have to trawl the depths of Sunday School experience to recall them. We can picture them and imagine them: the desperation of searching and the joy of finding; we can see ourselves in them.

Parables are memorable because of their pithiness – oh, that the same might be said of sermons sometimes! These parables so brief they are almost proto-soundbites.

But unlike soundbites they unfold layers of meaning and, because they are true teaching, they yield more and more meaning the more they are explored. Otherwise we needn’t hear or read them again; the matter would have been resolved.

So from ancient wisdom and teaching comes treasure ever old and ever new.

The overriding theme of both parables is searching.

The human quest of searching mirrors God searching out and knowing of each one of us. They raise questions of self-examination: what do I truly search for? What do others search for in me? What does it mean to say that God searches me out and knows me, as the psalm puts it? Am I really so precious that Jesus Christ searches me out when I am lost? Am I lost or found?

This theme of searching resonates in my role as a chaplain at the University. First the University is a research intensive institution, searching and re-searching information, knowledge and wisdom. Secondly my role has a pastoral dimension which, like a shepherd and pastor, calls me to search out those who are lost, stumbling or cry out for help.

Searching and re-searching is part of learning and growing, which is the heart of the educative process. We talk about life-long learning and, as Christian disciples (those who learn) this means searching and re-searching the scriptures. In other words, we pay fresh attention to the Bible as the words which are sweeter than honey to our lips.

There is a wonderful ancient method of reading scriptures that is at the heart of our searching and re-searching out of the meaning of God’s word in our lives called lectio Divina. This method invites us to a fourfold way of paying attention to scripture known under their Latin titles: lectio, the actual of reading it; ruminatio, the act of chewing it over, contemplatio, contemplation that leads us deeper into that word, and oratio, the act of taking that insight and praying with it.

A healthy church, or school or university is one that seeks to learn and to grow, that searches and re-searches. True wisdom is a gift of the Spirit who leads us into all truth: the Spirit who leads us in deeper to God’s word; the Spirit who sends us out to search for God’s wisdom, as we delight and wonder in creation, the earth and heavens, in one another and even – shock, horror - in the people we find most unlikeable or annoying.

May we all continue to search out the treasure which is Christ; may we be sought out by the Good Shepherd when we stray from what and who God calls us to be.


Please pray today for all in education, whether formal or informal, for teachers and learners in school, colleges, courses and universities. Pray that we may seek out God’s wisdom every day: a precious treasure. 

© Andrew Bishop, 2016

Education Sunday: searhcing and re-searching for God's wisdom

A sermon preached at All Saints, Onslow Village, Guildford, Education Sunday 11th September 2016
Luke 15:1-10.

Lord, you have searched me out and known me, you known my sitting down and my standing, you discern my thoughts from afar. (Psalm 139.1)

+ In nomine Patris…

Today is Education Sunday and as a chaplain at the University of Surrey I have, or at least should have, an interest in the subject.

Of course education is not just about universities, it’s not even about educational institutions like schools or colleges or courses but it is about the way in which we encounter every day as an opportunity to learn more about ourselves, about our world and environment, and most significantly about God.

Education is about being led into the mystery of God often just by glimpses, and is a powerful action of the Holy Spirit who leads us into all truth, often kicking and screaming and insisting on our own truth. Learning what we do not know is perhaps the most profound education of all!

Learning to live lives that are shaped like Jesus Christ helps us to learn what it means to be a true human being: made in the image and likeness and God and being restored in that image. This is what St Benedict in his Rule calls, ‘the school of the Lord’s service’. (Rule of St Benedict, Prologue, v. 45)

This morning’s gospel reading gives us two particular ways of thinking about education. First there is thinking about the method of education and then there is what the process of education actually is.

Jesus the Teacher - Coptic Icon
Jesus, as we can all agree, is an excellent teacher. If he wasn’t a great teacher then the chances are that we wouldn’t be here in the first place. Without good and clear teaching from Jesus, the first disciples would never have grasped what the gospel was about, and those who received the disciples’ testimony and teaching would never have been able to pass it on themselves. The transmission of faith relies on well taught people communicating the faith that they have received and learnt, even if they don’t grasp every last word.

So Jesus was a great teacher both in his method and content and both the method and content turn us into life-long learners.

His teaching style is characterised by taking questions head on, and, in the typical style of the Rabbis of his time, either to answer with a question or to tell a story.

These stories of memorable teaching are the parables: and we have two of those in this morning’s gospel reading. And in these parables Jesus both asks a question: which of you on losing a sheep or losing a coin would go all out to find that which is lost? And he tells a story: of the shepherd who searches, and finds and brings the found sheep home rejoicing and of the woman who diligently searches her home to pick up her silver coin.

Even if they’re not the best known of the parables many long standing Christians don’t have to trawl the depths of Sunday School experience to recall them. We can picture them and imagine them: the desperation of searching and the joy of finding; we can see ourselves in them.

Parables are memorable because of their pithiness – oh, that the same might be said of sermons sometimes! These parables so brief they are almost proto-soundbites.

But unlike soundbites they unfold layers of meaning and, because they are true teaching, they yield more and more meaning the more they are explored. Otherwise we needn’t hear or read them again; the matter would have been resolved.

So from ancient wisdom and teaching comes treasure ever old and ever new.

The overriding theme of both parables is searching.

The human quest of searching mirrors God searching out and knowing of each one of us. They raise questions of self-examination: what do I truly search for? What do others search for in me? What does it mean to say that God searches me out and knows me, as the psalm puts it? Am I really so precious that Jesus Christ searches me out when I am lost? Am I lost or found?

This theme of searching resonates in my role as a chaplain at the University. First the University is a research intensive institution, searching and re-searching information, knowledge and wisdom. Secondly my role has a pastoral dimension which, like a shepherd and pastor, calls me to search out those who are lost, stumbling or cry out for help.

Searching and re-searching is part of learning and growing, which is the heart of the educative process. We talk about life-long learning and, as Christian disciples (those who learn) this means searching and re-searching the scriptures. In other words, we pay fresh attention to the Bible as the words which are sweeter than honey to our lips.

There is a wonderful ancient method of reading scriptures that is at the heart of our searching and re-searching out of the meaning of God’s word in our lives called lectio Divina. This method invites us to a fourfold way of paying attention to scripture known under their Latin titles: lectio, the actual of reading it; ruminatio, the act of chewing it over, contemplatio, contemplation that leads us deeper into that word, and oratio, the act of taking that insight and praying with it.

A healthy church, or school or university is one that seeks to learn and to grow, that searches and re-searches. True wisdom is a gift of the Spirit who leads us into all truth: the Spirit who leads us in deeper to God’s word; the Spirit who sends us out to search for God’s wisdom, as we delight and wonder in creation, the earth and heavens, in one another and even – shock, horror - in the people we find most unlikeable or annoying.

May we all continue to search out the treasure which is Christ; may we be sought out by the Good Shepherd when we stray from what and who God calls us to be.


Please pray today for all in education, whether formal or informal, for teachers and learners in school, colleges, courses and universities. Pray that we may seek out God’s wisdom every day: a precious treasure. 

© Andrew Bishop, 2016

Thursday, 8 September 2016

On the Rhetoric of Growth in today's Church of England

Over the last few years the Church of England has become acutely aware of the decline in numbers of church attendance, especially amongst the young. In response there is a renewed focus on mission and numerical growth with a variety of strategies to address this.

The emphasis on growth raises questions. Is this a ‘dash for growth’? How healthy is exponential growth? What does the urge for growth say about our understanding of the Missio Dei? What account do we give of how disciples, new and old, find their place in the Body of Christ? What are the dangers in looking at the metrics?

I want to contend that the growth of the Church is good and important but it cannot be undertaken uncritically, especially in relation to the current rhetoric of the Church of England through reports such as From Anecdote to Evidence. I propose a fresh way of looking at growth through a reading of the Parable of the Sower which does not simply focus on results but on an organic approach learning the lessons of the Green Revolution in agriculture.

Growth is Good & of God


The Gospel of Jesus Christ assumes growth: growth into the image and likeness of God, growing into the full maturity of being sons and daughters of the Most High (cf 1 Peter 2.2); growing in the way the corporate life of the church is modelled (cf Ephesians 4.15); growing in our personal way of life as disciples (cf Colossians 1.10) and growing in knowledge of Jesus Christ (cf 2 Peter 3.18); growing and building up in love (Ephesians 4.16); even pruning brings growth (cf John 15).
The pruning of a vine for growth

Growth is good. But growth is multi-faceted and not just about the numbers, although numbers are clearly a part of it, as in Acts of the Apostles extraordinary numerical growth is reported (cf Acts 1.15; 2.41; 2.47). What is absolutely clear in the New Testament is that growth is from God (1 Corinthians 3.6., 7; Colossians 2.19)

It is growth in numbers that has taken the priority in the strategic planning and overviews of many dioceses and parishes. It is important then to reflect on what growth is and what some of the challenges and costs of that growth might be, as well as the benefits.

The Rhetoric of Growth: Anecdote and Evidence

The Church of England report From Anecdote to Evidence  is a key marker on the journey of reflection on growth, a journey begun by the Mission-shaped Church report in 2003. It forms part of the Church’s current rhetoric of growth.

Anecdote to Evidence gives pointers to the ways in which growth is achieved. Yet the title suggests that anecdote is a suspect way of reporting growth. The implication is that a quantitative way to understand growth is the only one that tells an empirically credible story. The implication is that anecdote is unreliable and not credible.

The Acts of the Apostles combines anecdote and evidence in testifying to the mighty acts of God in Christ and the numerical growth of the Christian community. Quantitatively we read, ‘that day about three thousand persons were added’ (Acts 41.b); qualitatively we read:

They devoted themselves to the apostles teaching and fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the. Awe came upon everyone, because many wonders and signs were being done by the apostles. All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need. Day by day, as they spent much time together in the temple, they broke bread at home and ate their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God and having the goodwill of all the people. And day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved (Acts 2.42-47)’.

St Luke tells the ‘anecdotes’ of the first Christians’ quality of life. That tells us that it is the gift of the Holy Spirit in the Church which is what attracts people and grows the Church. Many parish clergy tell of growth in their churches. What are they talking about? Often that testimony is dismissed by the suggestion that the growth they detect is not real growth or that it is not sufficient to merit appreciation.

The currency of the Church is anecdote. Telling the story is integral to living the Christian life. Stories are compelling and shape the reality we want to see. Christians read the scriptures to discover and be reminded of the action of God in history. Christians celebrate the Eucharist to be rooted and anchored in the Gospel. Mission itself involves bearing witness to the telling of God’s story and its possibilities in individual lives and in the world.

A Cost to Growth?

Dashes for economic growth and exponential growth often have a habit of ending badly. Relentless emphasis on numerical growth can have adverse side effects when applied to the Church:

  • ·         It plays to a wider societal and media narrative that numbers are the only thing that counts in the life of the Church;
  • ·         It is anxiety driven. In the face of anxiety Jesus asks us to consider the lilies of the field – which neither toil nor spin - and yet they grow and, indeed, multiply (Matthew 6.28). In the face of anxiety the response is often to (clerical) control and lack of diversity of theology and style;
  • ·         It means we are deaf to the stories of the Spirit’s action in the lives of those who appear not to count in the eyes of the world – for example, children and the poor - but who are the first in the Kingdom of God. These are the quiet actions of the church in people’s lives exercised in daily pastoral ministry but that are never counted;
  • ·         The call to holiness, respect for faithfulness and patience can be diminished in a rampant rhetoric of growth.


The priestly task is to elicit the stories, to offer the vocabulary around which disciples, new and old, can frame and to hold the whole story, the anecdote, of the Gospel before the Christian community.

Harvest Focused Sowing

The ‘Green Revolution’ in agriculture, and the associated development of new varieties of crop, was all about maximising growth. But it has had unintended consequences. The pesticides needed to support the new varieties had a devastating impact on insect life and other plants that feed birds. Farmers became dependent on global conglomerations who supply the specialist materials and are held in economic fetters. Furthermore, as can be seen in nature, a monoculture leaves the species at risk of extinction.

What are the parallels for the Church? The Church must be wary of finding a formula akin to the Green Revolution that makes us think there is a single resilient, genuine, variety of Christian. Monoculture in church life kills off those who are attracted to the faith yet do not find themselves at the centre, but ‘touch the fringe of the cloak’ (Matthew 9.20) and still know the healing power of Christ. To retain the purity of a single variety in a species means the loss of others. This can lead to the crowding out and choking of intergenerational contributions from the very young and the old and also different theological voices.

The challenge for the Green Revolution and Church growth is, how we nurture and feed the greatest number of people that preserves the ecology of the creation and human ways of relating to Jesus Christ, that are not imposed or controlled.

Christ the Sower

The Parable of the Sower

The parable of the sower opens up our wondering about proper sowing (Matthew 13.1-9; 18-23). This should be the dominant text for growth. It tells us that:

·         Growth is possible in all sorts of soils. However that growth will not be long lived unless the soil is well prepared and suitable for the seed to take root and establish its growth;
·         Growth happens at all stages but doesn’t guarantee fruitfulness. The seed that is eaten by the birds has no growth of its own but sustains another species. The other seeds in the parable all grow, but either not very much or they get choked: but growth had happened in them. At which stage do we count growth as meaningful: adults in their 20s, 30s, 40s…80s, children?
·         Growth to fruition varies in ‘productivity’. The yield of the seed that fell on good ground is not uniform: ‘in one case a hundredfold, in another sixty, and in another thirty’ (v. 23). Even numerical growth cannot be final arbiter of growth. What is successful growth in a church: 100 people attending worship; 500? 1,000? 10,000? 2 or 3? (cf Matthew 18.20);
·         Growth is not just for its own sake. The wheat of the ear enables the plant to sustain itself in the future by the emergence of new seedlings. It also gives it fruit to others, that are not itself, to sustain them: birds and mice eat the wheat; human beings harvest the grain systematically in order to make bread and other staples; and the Biblical vision of gleaning enables the poor to be served too.

There is no one indicator of ‘real’ growth.

The value of abundant, surplus growth is seen throughout the biblical tradition: storing up for times of famine (Genesis 41.35-36); the tradition of gleaning (Ruth 2.17-23) Jesus and his disciples plucking of grain to eat (Luke 6.1). The wheat is abundant in its provision and not consumed by itself.

The Proper Sowing: Countering a ‘Harvest Mission Model’

All growth demands patience: be that the grain of wheat, the gestating child or in a congregation.

‘Take no thought of the harvest, but only of the proper sowing’
(T.S. Eliot in Choruses from The Rock)

'The Corn Harvest' - Peter Breugel the Elder
In human society the classic measure of success is the harvest, the end of the production line. It defines the outcome and measurement of our labours. In the contemporary Church of England parish churches invest a great deal of time and energy in celebrating the Harvest Festival. Harvest Festival rightly is a time of thanksgiving and, if celebrated well, has a global justice imperative. Harvest is comforting because it is about tangible results and measurement. In that way it plays to our sense of security evidenced by metrics.

It is as if the Church of England, fed by media obsession with church decline, has a ‘Harvest Mission Model’.

In the Church Year there is another agrarian based festival that is now seen as something of an antique piece in the way harvest is not. That is Rogation. Rogation (from the Latin rogare ‘to ask’) is about asking God to bless our endeavours, most obviously in the sowing of the seed on the land.

Rogation is not about measurement, but about trust and prayer. Once the seed is in the ground, out of our sight and our control, we do not know what will come of it: we trust that it will take root; we trust that it will grow; we trust that it will be fruitful. But we cannot control that growth.

What if we focused more on Rogation? What would that do to our mission paradigm? A ‘Rogation Mission Model’ could move us from desperate responses to the decline of an institution to a faithful, trusting response to the God who gives life and growth.

After all, St Paul writes that, ‘God gives the growth’ regardless of who sowed or watered (cf 1 Corinthians 3.6). Jesus says that the harvest is God’s; it is not our possession. Labourers are to be sent out into the Lord’s harvest: this is a proper understanding of the missio Dei.

Conclusion

Wanting to grow is a response to the environment that the Church finds herself in in Western Europe at present. That environment is felt to be hostile, antagonistic and repulsed by the whole notion of religious faith and belief. It is also part of the imperative to grow as seen in the Acts of the Apostles and Matthew 28.19.

I have argued that, biblically, growth is measured by fruitfulness and that the Church of England must not be driven by anxiety or desperation when it speaks of growth but remains faithful to the promises of God, who gives the growth.

The 'tool' the Church already has to respond to and to shape this approach is through the Eucharist, about which I have written elsewhere. The Eucharist holds the story of salvation, receives the fruits of the harvest so that the believer is fruitful and grows into the full stature of Christ to be and live out God's mission in the power of the Spirit for the sake of the Kingdom.

The task of leadership in the current climate is to ensure that the Church as a whole, and individuals Christians, do not become gospel amnesiacs.[1] It is to help both those new to the Church and those already within it to find their place in the story (anecdote) of God’s action within the world and coming Kingdom. Growth is downwards, outwards and upwards: personal growth leads to ecclesial growth, rooted in the Gospel and fruitful.



© Andrew Bishop, 2016




[1] Andrew Walker, Telling the Story: Gospel, Culture and Mission. London: SPCK, 1996.

Monday, 15 August 2016

The Blessed Virgin: Sleeping and Waking

Jesse Tree icon at Guildford Cathedral
The Lady Chapel of Guildford Cathedral contains within it an icon of the Jesse Tree. At the heart of its branches is the Mother of God with her Son, the focal point of the icon, enthroned upon her lap. Jesse sleeps at the foot of the tree. He sleeps not inattentively but in a generative repose of deep sleep as Adam did. Out of Adam’s side a rib was taken to create the mother of all the living, Eve, and out of Jesse’s side comes the tree from which the New Adam is descended and the mother from whom he is born.

St John of Damascus calls Mary New Eve. This title, which predates John, alludes to sleep since this is used to ‘correct’ the action of the first Eve. So, as Kallistos Ware says, ‘where Eve is disobedient, Mary is obedient. Where Eve is unguarded and inconsiderate, listening all too readily to the deceitful words of the serpent, Mary is watchful and prudent, only accepting the Archangels’ message after she has carefully questioned him’.[1] So for John, Eve brings the ‘sleep of death’ upon humankind, but Mary is, ‘initiator of life for the whole race’.[2] Mary’s is the ‘unwedded bride’ or ‘Bride without bridegroom’ she is the Wise Virgin who watches for, and points out, the bringer of the New Wine (John 2.5)and resists the Eve-like sleepy behaviour of the foolish bridesmaids in the gospels who fall asleep.

Icon of the Dormition of Mary
The Eastern Church proclaims that, ‘Neither tomb nor death overpowered the Mother of God, unsleeping in her prayers, unfailing hope in intercession’.[3] This proclamation is for the feast of the Falling Asleep of the Mother of God, the Dormition. It recalls the declaration of the Saviour at the bed of Jairus’ daughter, ‘she is not dead, but sleeping’ (Luke 8.52). This is the proclamation made to all who hear the voice of Mary’s Son, ‘Very truly, I tell you, the hour is coming, and is now here, when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live’ (John 5.25). She who is declared by the angel to be ‘the favoured one’ (Luke 1.28) falls asleep and the human body of one of God’s creatures is ‘crowned with mercy and loving kindness’ (Psalm 103.4).

It can now be said:

The virgin of the Magnificat, on whose lips is placed the message that God is exalting the humble and casting down the powerful, finds her life confirmed and glorified by the Father of Jesus. Mary’s assumption – seen in the light of Jesus’ resurrection – is hope and promise for the poor of all times and for those who stand in solidarity with them; it is hope and promise that they will share in the final victory of the incarnate God.[4]

For John of Damascus Mary is ‘Ladder of Jacob’. She is the ladder whose two extremities touch earth and heaven whilst Jacob, and humanity, sleeps. She was awake and alert, though fearful at first, of an angel who stepped off the ladder to call her to be mother of the Saviour.

Mary is not a goddess, not immortal, but as John of Damascus teaches emphatically, she who fell asleep was raised as expression of love.[5] It is out of this love, and echoing Song of Songs that, John places on the lips of Mother and Son these words, ‘Into your hands my child, I commend my spirit, says the Mother to her Son as she dies; and her Son replies, ‘Come, my blessed Mother, into my rest…Arise, come, my beloved, beautiful among women’.[6]

At the coming of sleep we entrust ourselves into the hands of God and pray that we will sleep in peace ready to be raised to the life of the new day, as Mary in her Dormition was swept up, like Elijah (2 Kings 2.1-12), to the very presence of God. Hence why the Church for centuries has associated sleep with the maternal care of Mary.

Dom David Steindl-Rast describes the monastic practice of Compline at his community:

At the very end of Compline, it has become a custom for the Abbot to bless the whole community by sprinkling them with holy water, a sort of evening dew. The monks then file into the Lady Chapel for a final hymn to Mary. This hymn changes with the seasons. For most of the year it is Salve Regina; at other times, there are Marian antiphons like the Regina Coeli or the Alma Redemptoris Mater, jewels of chant.
            This custom has always reminded me of children being tucked up in bed at the end of the day by their mother. It brings a smile to my face to think of all those monks sweetly singing at day’s end to their Mother, opening themselves to the anima realm of their psyche, and entrusting themselves to the infinite darkness as maternal. Thus the part of the monastery indelibly linked for me with Compline is the Lady Chapel, where we return to our spiritual womb to be reborn again next morning.[7]

Jean-Luc Nancy’s words could almost have been written as a meditation to be placed on Mary lips as she gazed upon the Christ-Child:

Tomorrow morning, God willing, you will awake again: sleep my child, sleep my soul, sleep my world, sleep my love, sleep my little one, the child will sleep soon, already he’s sleeping, look he goes to sleep with the first night of the world, the divine child who plays with the dice of the universe and of all its centuries, he sleeps with every night that rocks anew, tirelessly the repetition of the first, of the initial nocturnal lullaby where the first day fell asleep with the first sleep.[8]

The new day will come, before which we sing, ‘Ave Regina caelorum’:
 
Hail, Queen of Heaven, beyond compare,
To whom the angels homage pay;
Hail, Root of Jesse, Gate of Light,
That opened for the world’s new Day

Rejoice, O Virgin unsurpassed,
In whim our ransom was begun,
For all your loving children pray
To Christ, our Saviour, and your Son.

As we prepare to lay ourselves down to sleep let us close in prayer before sleep with the words of St Alphonsus Liguori (1696-1787) entrusting us to the care of Jesus Christ, Blessed Mary and the angels.

Jesus Christ my God, I adore you and thank you for all the graces you have given me this day. I offer you my sleep and all the moments of this night, and I ask you to keep me from sin. I put myself within your sacred side and under the mantle of our Lady. Let your holy angels stand about me and keep me in peace. And let your blessing be upon me. Amen.




© Andrew Bishop, 2016



[1] “‘The Earthly Heaven’ – The Mother of God in the Teaching of St John of Damascus” in McLoughlin, W, & Pinnock, J,. 2002. Mary for Earth and Heaven: Essays on Mary and Ecumenism. Leominster: Gracewing. p. 358.
[2]
[3] Kontakion Tone 2 www.monachos.net/idomel accessed 19th March 2014
[4] Ivone Gebara and Maria Clara Bingemer, Mary, Mother of God, Mother of the Poor, trans. Phillip Berryman, (Maryknoll N.Y.: Orbis Books, 1989),119.
[5] Ware, ‘The Earthly Heaven’, 364.
[6] Dormition Sermon 2.10.
[7] David Steindl-Rast and Sharon Lebell, Music of Silence: A Sacred Journey Through the Hours of the Day. (Berkeley CA: Ulysees Press, 1998, 2002), 109.
[8] Nancy, The Fall of Sleep, 32-33.

Sunday, 7 August 2016

'A song to sing': Liberating God, past, present and future

Isaiah 11.10-12.6; 2 Corinthians 1.1-22

‘Sing praises to the LORD, for he has done gloriously; let this be known in all the earth’

+ In nomine Patris…

I am not usually given to quoting lyrics of the Swedish pop group Abba – I usually reserve my references to Abba as the beautiful, intimate Aramaic phrase used by Jesus, and elsewhere by St Paul, to speak of the intimacy of the relationship between each one of us as a child of God in relation to our loving heavenly Father: Abba, Father.

However I want to quote a verse from Abba’s song, ‘I Have a dream’, because the words seem to have a contemporary resonance for many people, especially, but not exclusively, the young. And these lyrics lay down a challenge to those of us within a religious tradition in how we respond to the desires, fears and hopes of our generation and how they are met in Christ.

So Abba sing:

I have a dream, a song to sing
To help me cope with anything
If you see the wonder of a fairy tale
You can take the future even if you fail
I believe in angels
Something good in everything I see
I believe in angels
When I know the time is right for me
I'll cross the stream, I have a dream

In a sense what I want to do is an exercise in Christian apologetics on these lyrics to see how we respond to the contemporary challenge that both our readings tonight can be used to address.

The first reading from Isaiah draws the reader to connect the way God has acted in the past, with the way God acts in the present and will act in the future. The dream, as it were, is of God’s restoration of his people so that they will be blessed by him afresh. This culminated in thanksgiving and praise, thanksgiving and praise that in Isaiah echoes the Song of Moses and the Song of Miriam (Exodus 15) when God had freed the Israelites from slavery in Egypt, which becomes a model, a paradigm, of how God has, can and will act in human lives.

The first reading gives us the memory of a dream, and gives us a song to sing. So we Christians have a dream, the ‘glorious liberty of the children of God’ and we have a song to sing, ‘shout aloud and sing for joy, O inhabitants of Zion, for great in your midst is the Holy One of Israel’ (Isaiah 12.6b).

Abba declare that a dream and song to sing will ‘help me cope with anything’. This isn’t so far removed from Peter’s injunction that we should always be prepared to give an account of the hope that is within us. This touches Paul’s language of consolation in our second reading. Consolation in affliction is the greatest of gifts. Paul describes, in the most heartfelt language, his own affliction to the point of feeling ‘utterly, unbearably crushed that we despaired of life itself’ (2 Corinthians 1.8).

But what is the hope that breathes into situations of affliction and utter devastation, the hope that is less superficial than some pop lyrics? The hope is the deep, enduring conviction of the love of God in Christ Jesus which is sealed by the Holy Spirit.

This hope is what carries us into the future. Abba speaks of ‘taking the future’ which is one of those rather meaningless phrases but that many people respond to. It is the sort of pretty vacuous management speak that says things like, ‘take hold of your future or the future will take hold of you’.

That sort of saying strong in commending the importance of human agency and avoidance of fatalism, but is lacking in an account of what gives hope for the future and also the fact that our future is held more widely than simply our own efforts but in a deep conviction in God’s faithfulness.

‘I believe in angels’ sing Abba. Belief in angels is another interesting area where contemporary people are relatively happy to say that they are ‘spiritual but not religious’. To say, ‘I believe in angels’ captures the mystique and etherealness of spirituality, whatever that means, but does not connect the spiritual life to actual bodily existence. This is what is widely known as dualism, the notion of a dislocation between body and soul.

To live your life in the hope not of angels but in the Word Made Flesh makes for what might be called an holistic or whole person approach. We are body and spirit together. Religion is the rooting of the spiritual impulse of humanity into forms and ways of living embodied lives. This is about patterns and disciplines, habit forming in the ways of virtuous living.

This is the opposite of belief in angels, which keeps human minds in a never never land of vague spirituality.

And this is where, curiously, Abba touches on a deep motif of Hebrew and Christian religion and hope: ‘I'll cross the stream, I have a dream’

Chapter 12 of Isaiah echoes the songs of Moses and Miriam when they had crossed not simply a stream but the Red Sea, and in the preceding verses the prophet says,

The LORD…will wave his hand over the River with his scorching wind; and will split it into seven channels, and make a way to cross it on foot; so there shall be a highway from Assyria for the remnant that is left of his people, as there was for Israel when they came up from the land of Egypt. (Isaiah 11.15,16)

The ‘dream’, if we can call it that, of God’s people, the people who call God, ‘Abba, Father’ is that the God who has delivered his people through the waters can and will do that again, such that we can sing our own song of God’s salvation.

© Andrew Bishop, 2016