21 March 2021

Sermon: 5th Sunday in Lent

 Sermon: 5th Sunday in Lent

21 March 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Hebrews 5:-10; Psalm 51:1-12; and John 12:20-33; NRSV

Welcome to this 5th Sunday in Lent as we move rapidly towards Holy Week and Easter. I have spoken previously of the Sundays in Lent as touchstones on this journey, a journey in which we are called to “… repent, and believe in the good news.”[1] Each Sunday has been an invitation to reflect on this in different ways, to acknowledge the brokenness of our humanity while engaging with the unlimited nature of God’s love so evident in Jesus’ embrace of the call on his own life, which leads him to Jerusalem and the cross.

In today’s Gospel John has somewhat stolen the march on us, as Jesus is already in Jerusalem, having been welcomed by the crowds with palm branches and those rousing words, “Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord— the King of Israel!”[2] and we find Jesus already at the Temple preparing for the Passover. Today’s Gospel narrative importantly begins by reminding us of the cosmopolitan nature of those present in Jerusalem and also preparing for the Passover: some Greeks find Philip and ask to see Jesus;[3] and it is this request that acts as a catalyst causing Jesus’ declaration that “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified,”[4] an hour that Jesus up to this point in John’s Gospel has regularly indicated has not yet come. We discover that the Greeks’ desire to see Jesus has substantial implications for any who would follow Jesus and serve the purposes of the kingdom, that it involves a very deep level of commitment and a willingness to put one’s life on the line. Yet this is balanced with the promise of God’s presence in Jesus and an acknowledgement that such commitment is highly cherished by God.

Last week I asked the question, “What do we believe?” but we also need to ask, “What do we experience?” Trust is generally inherent in belief in terms of our faith, yet our ability to trust (or not trust) is most often determined by our experience. If we are to offer ourselves in service to the degree that Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel indicate, our levels of trust in God’s willingness to cherish our offered vulnerability become key to us embracing the journey we are called to. How do we know, how do we truly trust that God is present, especially when we know there are times we feel God to be absent despite the affirmation of Scripture and the testimony of Godly people down the ages that even when God appears absent God is in fact present? Too often in my own thinking I see presence and absence as polarities and ignore the possibility that presence and absence may exist on a continuum. Pádraig Ó Tuama helpfully speaks of the presence of the presence and the presence of the absence, and says, “At times in our spiritual life we feel alone, but are not afraid; at other times we are surrounded but are still undone. There is no conflict between these. We move back and forth, sometimes in the presence of consolation, other times in the presence of absence.”[5] Somewhat paradoxically Pádraig is reminding us that God is always present, that the continuum itself is presence, so that God is even present in absence (as tough as that may be to get our minds around).

On our Lenten journey I tend to see Palm Sunday as the point at which we shift from preparation to immersion in the events of Holy Week, but in John’s Gospel the fulcrum is this interaction in the Temple, probably in the court of the Gentiles, an important affirmation that what God is up to in and through Jesus is purposed for all humanity and not just for one group or nation. You and I are drawn into this story, invited to participate. As we grapple with our own issues of trust, with our often faltering awareness God’s presence, John shares an image of Jesus troubled in soul yet confident in his unity with the Father, able to embrace both this moment of awareness and the reality of the tussle with “the ruler of this world”[6] that lies ahead of him. Again in Pádraig Ó Tuama’s words, “[Jesus] is aware of being loved; he is troubled but not undone; he has assurance of the way forward; and he sees glory on the other side of despair. There are times in our lives, when, in the face of difficulties, we have a deep assuredness, and this assuredness keeps us steady.”[7]

Today, in the narrative from John’s Gospel, we are offered this assuredness. Let us trust God to be present with us even in the presence of absence as we face the challenges of life and relationship in these continuedly uncertain and extraordinary times.

Let us pray,

Mysterious Jesus

what we do not know

is what all this was like for you.
Your friends told stories
and their friends wrote them down.
And we wonder:
were you in the presence of great presence? or were you in the presence
of an absence.

In all our experiences of presence
and absence,
help us remember the story to which we are called. A story of love, of generosity,
of justice, of truth.

Knowing that presence will come and go, but the call to love
never fails.

Amen.[8]



[1] Mark 1:14; NRSV
[2] John 12:13; NRSV
[3] John 12:2-21; NRSV
[4] John12:23; NRSV
[6] John 12:31; NRSV
[7] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Ibid.
[8] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Ibid.

Sermon: 4th Sunday in Lent

 Sermon: 4th Sunday in Lent

14 March 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Numbers 21:4-9; Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22; and John 3:14-21; NRSV

Welcome to this 4th Sunday in Lent, which is also Mothering Sunday – and for those joining us from the UK, their Mothers’ Day celebration. Importantly for us in the context of our worship it is yet another touchstone on our Lenten journey, one that asks us to look upon the cross and ask, “What is it we believe?” It is a question asked in the context of a conversation between Jesus and Nicodemus, one we enter half way through this morning. It may be helpful to recognise that although this conversation is with Nicodemus it has broader application, especially in the context of rebirth  (the use of the word “you” is plural[1]; an invitation perhaps for us to participate in the conversation?). We enter the conversation as Jesus speaks to Nicodemus of the necessity for the Son of Man to be lifted up in order for the eternal nature of life to be offered to those who believe.[2] The reference here is distinctly to the cross, although this early in John’s Gospel narrative the implications are unlikely to have been clear to Nicodemus. Today, as this passage invites us to look at the cross, what is it that we believe?

Our Lent course has helped us reflect on this question over the past three weeks as we have engaged with Rowan William’s[3] thinking and have been challenged to engage with what we believe, to see the Cross in a fresh light, and to see in the cross the victory alongside the sacrifice; and in the next couple of weeks to reflect on what this victory over death and evil looks like in the context of resurrection two millennia ago, and in our own time. Ultimately it is not about seeing the cross, it’s about seeing Jesus, and seeing the love of God active not only on the cross, but in the fullness of Jesus’ life and ministry and in his resurrection and ascension; and allowing what we believe to actively impact the course of our own lives: our attitudes and actions; our values and our legacy.

As we hear the opening words of today’s Gospel our minds are drawn to an occasion in the book of Numbers[4] (a memory helped by having just a heard it as our Old Testament reading today). The broader narrative context is that the Israelites have just won their first major victory over the Canaanites in the form of the king of Arad who controlled part of the Negev dessert south of the Promised Land. The mention of Mount Hor suggests a possible earlier narrative inserted at his point, but its placement here points to the Israelites’ fickleness, that despite a great God-given victory they are dissatisfied, and while this dissatisfaction is aimed at God and at Moses it quickly becomes clear that it fact they are bored with the daily provision of dessert manna (not surprisingly, perhaps) and desire a more varied diet. The detail of their complaint is less important than the “… narrative arc: sinful behaviour, followed by a negative divine response, then repentance, and finally, divine restoration.”[5] The divine response, the poisonous snakes whose bite kills, become the source of divine restoration when an image of a poisonous snake is raised up on a pole. The connection John is wanting his listeners to make is that the “… physical gift of healing in Numbers is transformed into the spiritual gift of salvation … .”[6]

We all too easily use phrases like eternal life and the spiritual gift of salvation (or just salvation), but what do we mean by them? In the context of the earlier part of Jesus conversation with Nicodemus Jesus speaks of rebirth,[7] and so I suggest when we speak of eternal life and salvation we are speaking of our awakening to the core of our humanity, that aspect that carries the image of God, and that when awoken enables us to reach beyond the brokenness of our humanity and increasingly embrace the love that is God. By gazing upon the cross and recognising it as a symbol of the very worst of our humanity, slowly awakening to the sacrifice of obedience that Jesus death on the cross is, then recognising the victory of love that the cross represents, we are healed as our brokenness is transformed by love. The cross, rather than being a reminder of the worst of our humanity is transformed into a symbol of the best of who we are when awake to love, forgiveness and freedom.[8] In this context John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life”, a verse much quoted on its own (and a part of today’s Gospel reading), begins to make some sense. The sacrifice is not substitutional, but a gift of obedience. In Rowan Williams’ words:

Obedience is not springing to attention and hastily doing what you are ordered. Obedience is a harmony of response to God so that God sees in the world a reflection of his own life … his selfless love reflected, … his beauty mirrored back to him … .

“In Jesus there is the divine action of love mirrored back to God through the medium of human life. … Our language about sacrifice has shown us a God who is giving and receiving and responding, … a God who is himself relationship.

“… it’s not about what I am doing here, but about what God is doing. … It is God’s act outside us, not up to us; something that God has accomplished.”[9]

I return to our touchstone for today: as we gaze on the cross, what is it that we believe? And how is our belief transforming our lives and our lived actions? How are our lives mirroring God’s beauty back to God? 

Let us pray,

Strange man of Nazareth

You poked and prodded people around you.

People who had power were provoked into questions,
people with curiosity, too; you scraped surfaces,
willing to risk irritation or aggression in the name
of truthful encounters.

In our lives — tired and under demand as they are in

this time of pandemic — enliven us by the kind of
conversation that is unforgettable. Meet us
with ourselves as you meet us.

Because this is the water of life. You

drank from it. You needed it.
So do we.

Amen[10]



[1] John 3:7; NRSV
[2] John 3:14-15; NRSV
[3] Roman Williams God with Us: The Meaning of the Cross and Resurrection – then and now
[4] Numbers 21:4-9; NRSV
[5] Henry T C Sun, Commentary on Numbers 21:4-9 https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/fourth-sunday-in-lent-2/commentary-on-numbers-214-9-5
[6] Ibid
[7] John 3:7; NRSV
[8] Roman Williams, Ibid
[9] Roman Williams, Ibid, Page 32-34, 38[10] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Fourth Sunday in Lent, https://www.spiritualityofconflict.com/pdfs/readings/300_fourth-sunday-in-lent.pdf

Sermon: The Baptism of Christ

Sermon: The Baptism of Christ 9 January 2022 – Archdeacon Mark Long Isaiah 43:1-7; Psalm 29; and Luke 3:15-17, 21-22; NRSV   The New Y...