Sermon: All Saints

 Sermon: All Saints

30 October 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Revelation 7:9-11, Canticle 5, and Matthew 5:1-12; NRSV 

In my sermon two weeks ago I reminded us, “… that God’s people are called to live differently, are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms [particularly] when it comes to the use of power.”[1] Today, as we celebrate All Saints Day, this remains an important awareness. In essence, as I’ve said on previous occasions, power is the ability to act, a human ability we all have. The question is are we using this ability creatively or destructively? Are our actions life-giving or life-threatening? And how is power being used in the political and economic structures we participate in daily? How are we working to ensure power is used justly in our social environment? And where power is misused or abused, what is our responsibility as God’s people? What does it mean to be a saint? 

Our Gospel reading today is a well-known passage, one we have named The Beatitudes, which in Matthew’s Gospel are effectively presented as a manifesto of the kingdom Jesus is inaugerating.[2] This kingdom calls for humanity’s transformation and seeks to address the brokenness of the human condition, and in place of our fractured humanity offers hope and the fullness of life. Jesus has begun drawing a prophetic community together to give agency to this newly inaugurated kingdom,[3] and The Beatitudes give a two-fold focus to the community’s task: a focus on those who experience various forms of oppression, and on those who are targeted for their integrity.[4] Too often we misinterpret The Beatitudes to suggest that suffering and persecution are somehow badges of Sainthood, but if in fact The Beatitudes are a manifesto of the this newly inaugurated kingdom then The Beatitudes are instead an important announcement of a reversal of fortunes for the oppressed.[5] Situations of hopelessness are no longer hopeless, but hope-filled. The community Jesus calls together – of which you and I are now a part – are invited to be participants in implementing this reversal, to be a prophetic sign of this kingdom within the social, political, and economic context of our daily lives. 

How are we to be this sign? The answer may lie in verse 4 that says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” The Greek word translated “comfort” here is not primarily about solace or consolation, but more along the lines of representation in legal terms: they will be given an advocate[6] who will work for their recognition and restitution, someone who will ensure those who mourn are comforted and those who are hungry are fed; that the merciful themselves experience mercy from others, and that the poor in spirit receive the kingdom of heaven; that the pure in heart get to see God, and the peacemakers are recognised as children of God. This is exciting stuff, a manifesto to set our hearts aflame, but also one that perhaps has us asking if we have the wherewithal to be this prophetic sign? And is it just up to us? You may have noticed the use of the passive voice in the manner in which some of The Beatitudes are stated, and I think there is purpose in this as it leaves the question of advocacy open-ended and allows for both human and divine agency.[7] My thoughts are immediately drawn to John’s Gospel where we hear that the Holy Spirit is given to us as the Paraclete, the advocate whose advocacy will bring us comfort. However it is clear in Matthew’s Gospel that it is the prophetic community initiated in Jesus’ calling aside of the first disciples – to whom he says, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people”[8] – that is called to work hand-in-hand with the Spirit of God in this endeavour, and again I emphasise that you and I are participants in this community. Raj Nadella, Professor of New Testament at Columbia Theological Seminary, importantly highlights that “The Beatitudes offer a promise of liberation to those at the margins of our society. They also invite and require anyone and everyone with privilege and power to participate in the process of making the promised liberation a reality.”[9] To be a part of the prophetic community inaugurated by Jesus is in itself a privilege and an empowered position, and lays responsibility on our shoulders to advocate at every opportunity for the oppressed and persecuted in partnership with the Spirit of God. However, the afflicted themselves have agency, and we need to ensure our advocacy never inhibits the oppressed from participating in their own liberation.[10] The Church is called to offer a supportive advocacy that always seeks to give dignity to those who suffer, and not make them only objects of our compassion as we work with them and the Spirit of God in facilitating the reversal of fortune that Jesus promises in The Beatitudes. 

In reality we are called to align ourselves with those on the margins of our society, and any advocacy we offer may and most likely will draw us into experiencing the suffering of the oppressed and marginalised to various degrees ourselves, and perhaps we can only truly recognise their agency when we become deeply aligned with their pain. And in so doing we also need to acknowledge that while our society, and our political and economic environment marginalizes so many, the Church is often guilty of religious marginalisation of people and is complicit in the suffering and oppression around us. We are called ourselves to repentance and transformation, and it is only in recognising our complicity and allowing the transforming presence of God’s Spirt to renew us that we can truly be effective in the work of reconciliation in our world. 

What does it mean to be a saint? It is to align ourselves with the marginalised, to participate in the process of liberation for the oppressed, to work every moment of every day towards a greater expression of the fullness of life offered in and through the death and resurrection of Jesus, and to commit to facilitating a just use of power as a creative reality for ourselves and for others. 

We have a practical opportunity to exercise our sainthood tomorrow in the local elections. Will you exercise your democratic right? And if you do, how will your vote align with The Beatitudes, with the manifesto of God’s kingdom in our imperfect world? Please vote, and vote wisely! 

In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

Uncovered Jesus,

You washed

the feet of your friends

with your hands.

We do not know what to do

with this kind of love

or this kind of power

so we repeat it once a year.

May we repeat it more often:

every month; every day; every hour; every encounter.

Because this is how you chose to show

love and power

to your friends.

Amen.[11]

---

[1] Mark Long, 20211017 Sermon 21st Sunday after Pentecost ML

[2] Raj Nadella, Commentary on Matthew 12:1-5,  https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/all-saints-sunday/commentary-on-matthew-51-12

[3] Matthew 4:18-22; NRSV

[4] Raj Nadella, Ibid.

[5] Ibid.

[6] Ibid.

[7] Ibid.

[8] Matthew 4:19b; NRSV

[9] Raj Nadella, Ibid.

[10] Ibid.

[11] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.

Sermon: 21st Sunday after Pentecost

 Sermon: 21^st Sunday after Pentecost

17 October 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Hebrews 5:1-10, Psalm 104:1-10, 35-36, and Mark 10:35-45; NRSV

I am sure today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel is not unfamiliar to most of us, especially as this account – with minor tweaks – is also echoed in Matthew’s Gospel. As we hear James and John’s request to be seated on Jesus’ right and left our minds jump quickly to Jesus’ response even before we hear the words read. We know that James and John will not be offered what they desire, that their asking will lead to conflict with the other disciples, and that Jesus will use it as a teaching moment where we will again be asked to wrap our minds around the paradoxical thought that power lies not in holding positions of influence but rather in service, and to be first is to be last and to be last is to be first. 

Not for the first time we are reminded that God’s people are called to live differently, are called to live in opposition to generally accepted social norms when it comes to the use of power. Jesus’ reference to the Gentiles would have been to the Roman rulers and those aligned with them, and was an unsubtle critique of the tyrannical abuse of power by those who ruled Jewish society on behalf of Rome. Mark is asking us to recognise the discomforting nature of Jesus’ teaching, that to be in the service of God is to address the misuse of power that benefits those who are first at the expense of those who are last, that benefits the wealthy at the expense of the poor. 

What is intriguing about this interaction is that it follows on directly from Jesus’ third foretelling of his death and resurrection in Mark’s Gospel, where he will be condemned to death by the chief priests and scribes, handed over to the Gentiles who will mock, denigrate, torture and kill him.[1] How do the disciples, not just James and John, but all of them miss the significance of this? I can understand them not grasping the reference to resurrection, but Jesus words concerning dying must have been clear? Did they choose to ignore what Jesus was saying, or were his words just so left-field that they chose not to process them in their desire to see social change and economic justice enacted in their time on their terms? They seemed to keep missing that the transformation Jesus’ was seeking to inaugurate – while inclusive of their own hopes and dreams for their context – offered not just change and momentary justice, but more: a different pattern of relationship for humanity. And two millennia later we still struggle to truly comprehend the beauty of life offered in the words of John’s Gospel: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life, and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.”[2] 

In our own time we are living in a convergence of politics, protest, and a pandemic; we are living in the midst of individual, collective, and global trauma; in the midst of merging crises; and we should not be surprised that everything we do, everything we believe in, is called into question either by ourselves or by others.[3] And just like James and John and the other disciples we are struggling to keep up. Our faith is not disconnected from the challenges of our times and the Church as institution is not immune to justified criticism. We are faced with the discomforting question as to whether the  “institutionalization of the church, the colonializing of the calling of Jesus, the growth of numeric Christianity, really was the providence of God or actually an extremely long detour from our true mission.”[4] We struggle with the reality that the institutional Church as we know it needs to die: the Church’s alignment with secular power since the 4^th century has caused us all too often to legitimise the social misuse of power, and the Church rightly finds itself called-out for aiding and abetting colonialism and other forms of social, economic and political abuses of power and the related discrimination, othering, and exclusion of the poor from our structures. 

I speak here more generally of the Church, not necessarily our particular community or local experience of Church. However, even as Anglicans in Southern Africa and as members of the local Church in Newlands, we need to be awake to our times and open to hearing the challenge of today’s Gospel passage, to commit to “hold hands with humility” and not to “partner with power”.[5] We need to rediscover the courage to ensure our lives and faith are aligned with the Gospel imperative to love. If our faith is to engender hope in ourselves and in others it is because we are committed to a sacrificial love, a love that embraces serving others, a love that relinquishes power, a love that is willing to give itself as a ransom for many.[6] While we naturally in such extraordinary times as these seek comfort in and through our faith, that comfort paradoxically is often only found through discomfort as we allow the Spirit of God access to our hearts, minds, and our very beings; as we open ourselves to the purposes and call of God in our own generation; as we embrace the hope offered us in the opening chapter of Mark’s Gospel: 

“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”[7] 

These words are a reminder that God is present, God is with us, we are not alone. In these times of ongoing difficulty, trauma, hardship and heart-ache God is with us in the chaos. We are called to trust in God’s presence, to be available to God’s purposes, to be open to the leading of God’s Spirit, in our own brokenness to be God’s hands and feet in our world. 

In closing, a prayer by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

God of all humanity,

…

we see how inhuman we can be.

 

We pray for those who, today, are weighed down by grief.

We pray for those who, yesterday, were weighed down by grief.

 

And the day before,

and all the days before the day before.

 

We pray, too, for those who help us turn towards justice and peace.

 

Turn us all towards justice and peace

because we need it.

 

Amen.[8]

---

[1] Mark 10:33-34; NRSV

[2] John 10:10-11; NRSV

[3] Karoline Lewis, Crises Preaching, https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/preaching-in-the-midst-of-merging-crises

[4] Russ Dean, “The Church Is Called to Die,” Opinion published on Baptist News Global. Sept. 21, 2021. https://baptistnews.com/article/the-church-is-called-to-die/

[5] Ibid.

[6] Mark 10:45; NRSV

[7] Mark 1:15; NRSV

[8] Pádraig Ó Tuama, Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community.