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.

Sermon: Season of Creation (Week 4)

 Sermon: Season of Creation

Week 4 – Pray and act for our Common Home

26 August 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9: 20-22, Psalm 124, and Mark 9:38-50; NRSV

Over the last few weeks, during this Season of Creation, we have been given the opportunity to reflect on how we engage with the systems and structures that direct and control our society, and ultimately impact on creation itself. As I expressed in my sermon last week, this requires people of faith to be a constant witness against the economies of exclusion, and that exclusion is at the root of injustice in our world. Today we are asked to reflect on what it means to pray and act on behalf of our common home. What does prayer and action look like in a world where “[w]e face multiple crises of poverty, inequality, biodiversity loss and the climate crisis[; where w]e have a short window … in which to turn from well worn, broken paths and choose a better story for ourselves and for the world”?[1] 

We are presented in our first reading with the essence of the story of Esther. Esther, a Jew of the Diaspora and a minority orphan trafficked into child concubinage and groomed for the sexual pleasure of the Persian King, Ahasuerus, unexpectedly finds herself Queen. Through her unexpected influence and skilled manipulation of the King she is able to avert the genocide of her people.[2] We may wish to ask how a person such as Esther, a Jewish orphan, “the least powerful member (orphan) of the least powerful gender (female) of a powerless people (Jews) in the mighty Persian Empire”[3] manages to turn the world on its head? Part of the answer is that when God desires to act it is generally and inexplicably through the seemingly weakest link: it is true of Esther, it is true of Mary, it is true of many people throughout history; those whom the powers of the day discount are all too often the originators of socio-economic and political upheaval. The multiple crises of our own times can be similarly affected, and despite the Church being side-lined and insignificant in the broader scheme of the 21^st century, as people of faith we may yet turn our world on its head. In this story of Esther we see something of what prayer and action may look like. 

Today’s Gospel reading offers similar hope. Mark’s Gospel reminds us that discipleship is not for the feint of heart: it is a tough and difficult journey that demands much of us. Today’s reading is not an easy one, and as one commentator adroitly comments, “It contains most things that drive the conscientious into a slough of despondence: exorcisms (verse 38); multiple disturbances in the Greek text, footnoted in responsible English translations (verses 42, 44, 45, 46, 49); hard sayings of Jesus (verses 39-41) that are logically incoherent (verses 48–50) or manifestly outrageous (verses 42-47).”[4] And yet this Scripture passage gives helpful insight into how people of faith – you and me – how we might pray and act. We find the disciples seeking Jesus’ approval of their limited definition of belonging as they report in about someone not of their group exorcising demons in Jesus’ name. Jesus’ response is instructive: “Do not stop [them]; ... Whoever is not against us is for us.”[5] I can only but imagine the look on their faces, and their subsequent protestations in hearing those words. However, for us “[a]dhering to the spirit of [these words] stresses [the importance of] gracious reception of anyone whose action, bold or modest, genuinely conforms to Jesus’ character”[6] and asks of us that our actions equally conform. The lack of social, political, and economic justice in the world suggests that such inclusivity is the hardest of actions, and that it is not through our own strength, but only through the presence of God’s Spirit and our openness to God’s Spirit, that such justice is possible. 

In Mark’s Gospel authentic prayer and just action also require what appears ‘manifestly outrageous’, “If your hand causes you to stumble, cut it off; … And if your foot causes you to stumble, cut it off; … And if your eye causes you to stumble, tear it out … .”[7] Hearing these words, we do of course need to remind ourselves that in Mark’s Gospel Jesus’ speaks often in parables,[8] and while we may be tempted to be scandalised by these words we need to recognise that Jesus is not advocating for literal self-mutilation.[9] While encouraging us to be inclusive of others in our conformity to Jesus character, Mark here is also highlighting that Jesus calls us to a vigorous discipleship that rejects any form of abuse, either of ourselves or of others – and in the context of the Season of Creation – of the broader aspects of Creation. 

In the context of our theme on this 4^th Sunday in the Season of Creation we are being asked to apply these Scriptural principles to our life on the African continent and on a global scale. What might prayer and action for our common home, and in this context our African home, look like? Abundant Africa, a development process and coalition of organisations working towards the transformation of Africa funded by Tearfund says in a recent report, “Some say that Africa is failing, doomed to chaos and poverty and reliance. Others say that Africa is rising, but as a slave to a narrative of greed, power, violence, individualism and extraction, to the benefit of just a few. We see another way - a courageous choice to turn from these two single stories and tell a new story, one created by the agency and voices of all African citizens: an Abundant Africa. An Abundant African economy could be built upon shalom, upon African values of innovation, freedom and relationship. It could reduce poverty and inequality, honour human dignity, care for creation – and in so doing be an economy that will lead the world.”[10] 

I find this an inspiring vision, no matter which continent or nation one may wish to apply it, but especially for Africa; and part of the inspiration for me is that it reflects the principles of faith, and of our journey through this Season of Creation. It is also an impossible vision, as impossible as Esther’s averting the Jewish genocide by the Persians, as impossible as the miracle of 1994 was for South Africa, as impossible as any diverted disaster throughout the course of history may have seemed; but with God all things are possible, and that needs to be the focus of our prayer. 

Let us find the courage to act and to pray, and trust that however bold or modest such prayers and actions may be, that God will transform the humanly impossible into the humanly possible. Let that be our hope, and our consolation. 

I close with a prayer of shelter and shadow by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray,

 

~ It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.

~ It is in the shadow of each other that the people live.

 

We know that sometimes we are alone,

and sometimes we are in community.

 

Sometimes we are in shadow,

and sometimes we are surrounded by shelter.

 

Sometimes we feel like exiles –

in our land, in our languages and in our bodies.

And sometimes we feel surrounded by welcome.

 

As we seek to be human together,

may we share the things that do not fade:

generosity, truth-telling, silence, respect and love.

 

And may the power we share

be for the good of all.

 

We honour God, the source of this rich life.

An we honour each other, story-full and lovely.

 

Whether in our shadow or our shelter,

may we live well

and fully

with each other.

Amen.[11]

---

[1] Abundant Africa - https://abundant.africa/

[2] Working Preacher, Commentary on Esther 7: 1-6, 9-10, 9: 20-22, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-26-2/commentary-on-esther-71-6-9-10-920-22-5

[3] Sidnie White Crawford, “Esther,” In Women’s Bible Commentary, 3d ed., Carol A. Newsom, Sharon H. Ringe, Jacqueline Lapsley, eds. (Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2012), page 203

[4] C. Clifton Black, Commentary on Mark 9:38-50, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-26-2/commentary-on-mark-938-50

[5] Luke 9:38-40; NRSV

[6] C. Clifton Black, Ibid.

[7] Mark 9:43-47; NRSV

[8] Mark 4:33; NRSV

[9] C. Clifton Black, Ibid.

[10] Abundant Africa, Ibid.

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

Spring Newsletter 2021: Article

 The Long View: Spring 2021

Dear Friends 

It is amazing how much happens in a year, and that despite the ongoing challenges of our times, we manage to remain resilient and find ways to be creative. A year ago I was feeling like I was running up an escalator the wrong way, and at best marking time as the world sped past me in the opposite direction. The last eighteen months have marked a huge shift in the way we live, and increasingly we are recognising that this is the ‘new normal’. In a sermon last Autumn I encouraged us to use Winter as a time to slow down, even hibernate, to take time to reflect and allow ourselves to catch up with the changes to our lives that the Covid-19 pandemic has demanded of us, changes we had hoped to be temporary but which remain ongoing. I have tried to follow my own advice, and time away in the Eastern Cape in June and a few days away earlier this month in the Wolseley area have helped, and Dawn and I have appreciated the gift of renewal these times have been for us. 

If you are like me, you have been praying that the Covid-19 virus will magically go away, and that we can step back from the hyper-vigilance the pandemic has forced on us, not to mention the added challenges that lockdowns and various Alert Levels that have constricted our lives and relationships so substantially since March 2020. I came across an article in The Atlantic that made me sit up rather straight with its unequivocal headline: The Coronavirus Is Here Forever. This Is How We Live With It.* It was something of a shock to see something I suspected and was avoiding acknowledging printed in such solid black lettering. It is not often words leap off the screen at me, but these ones did. Once I got past the headline, the article itself proved helpful, and I was particularly struck by the closing paragraph: 

With the flu, we as a society generally agree on the risk we were willing to tolerate. With COVID-19, we do not yet agree. Realistically, the risk will be much smaller than it is right now amid a Delta wave, but it will never be gone. “We need to prepare people that it’s not going to come down to zero. It’s going to come down to some level we find acceptable,” [Julie] Downs [a psychologist who studies health decisions at Carnegie Mellon University] says. Better vaccines and better treatments might reduce the risk of COVID-19 even further. The experience may also prompt people to take all respiratory viruses more seriously, leading to lasting changes in mask wearing and ventilation. Endemic COVID-19 means finding a new, tolerable way to live with this virus. It will feel strange for a while and then it will not. It will be normal. 

What we are seeing around the world as different countries take differing stances to the manner in which attempts have been made to contain the virus is the lack of a global social compact around how we deal with it, and I am comforted that in time this will happen. Vaccination is key to giving us some form of control over the virus – which will undoubtedly make living with the virus easier – but the amount of scaremongering and misinformation that social media in particular thrusts into our awareness makes this something of a pipe dream. Dawn and I are both fully vaccinated, but this scaremongering has its impact, and so I was deeply comforted by a recent blog post by Mags Blackie  (Scientist and Spiritual Director; herself vaccinated) entitled Owning relative uncertainty, ** where she helpfully says that while – as with all medication – we cannot claim it is safe, with all the data we have available to us at the moment the vaccine is unequivocally the better choice. For myself, knowing that with my vaccination the chances of being severely or even fatally infected with Covid-19 are slim, is a great source of consolation. While I continue to trust God for health and salvation, I am also hugely thankful to God for the gift of medical science! 

In a snap survey of Parish Council and our Layminister group, where all but one person have responded, there is a 100% vaccination rate. Hopefully, when our planning survey goes out to you all in early October, a similarly high level of compliance with vaccination protocols will be evident. As we come out of our Winter hibernation and begin to plan for 2022 and a fuller return to in-person Worship and other levels of interaction, we are hopefully able to embrace the virus with less fear and engage more confidently with life. 

I remain thankful for the gift of Scripture in these challenging times, and again commend Philippians 4:4-8 (NRSV) to you: 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. 

If you haven’t yet done so, I do encourage you to come and join us at 08:00 on a Sunday for our in-person service where we continue to follow Covid-19 sanitising and physical distancing protocols. It does feel different to our pre-Covid gatherings, but there is something very comforting and special about being physically present and participating in-person with others in a time of gathering and worship! 

Blessings

Mark 

* https://www.theatlantic.com/science/archive/2021/08/how-we-live-coronavirus-forever/619783/

** http://www.magsblackie.com/2021/09/15/owning-relative-uncertainty/

Sermon: Season of Creation (Week 3)

 Sermon: Season of Creation

Week 3 – The Family of God in our Common Home

19 August 2021 – Archdeacon Mark Long

James 3:13-4:3,7-8a, Psalm 1, and Mark 9:30-37; NRSV

I’m appreciating that this Season of Creation is asking us to rethink how we engage with our world, with the systems and structures that direct and control our society. This is an important conversation, and we need to acknowledge that it is also a difficult conversation for us as people of faith. We live in an age that demands we apply the principles of our faith differently to how they have been applied in the West for close on two millennia. The Church rose to power during the reign of Constantine and managed to control Western society in one form or another for almost a millennium and a half. Beginning in the 14^th century the Renaissance saw substantial social shifts begin to impact on the Church’s influence that were strengthened by the first industrial revolution in the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries, a period that saw revolutions in France in the late 18^th century and in Russia in the early 20^th century. Over the course of the 20^th century a tombstone was raised marking the end of the Church’s social, political and economic influence on a global scale. This is what makes it a difficult conversation: much of our theology, our thinking, our expectations are still marked by what was, by a Church all-powerful, but in a 21^st century context where the Church is largely sidelined and insignificant and needing to redefine its purpose in the world. Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R., in a prologue to a commentary on St Benedict’s Rule, comments, “… many thoughtful people are wondering if we are on the threshold of a second Dark Ages, and some even more thoughtful people are trying to discern how we can survive the collapsing foundations of western civilization and even the decline of all humanizing culture.”[1] 

This is where the focus of these first three weeks of the Season of Creation are so helpful: in an age when a strongly secular culture would have the Church remain silent, and where even people of faith may encourage keeping our heads down while questioning the validity of any social, political or economic engagement, the Season of Creation themes offer a helpful foundation for engaging and participating in the world in which God has placed us. Today’s reading from the book of James encourages us to act out of wisdom[2], and we can only do that if we take time to reflect, to build a strong foundation of understanding, and to be open to renewed perspectives. By taking us back to the root meanings of terms we largely assign to social structures external to our faith – economy and ecology – these themes provide us with a broader picture of our social sphere and provide renewed opportunities for us to engage beyond the walls of the Church with confidence and purpose. The overall theme of this Season is that Creation (and our world in particular) is a “Home for All”[3]. There are rules for this home (economy)[4] and we need to understand the home’s “… integral web of relationships that sustain [its] wellbeing …”[5] (ecology). Today’s theme of ecumenism takes us a step further, and offers us “… a theological alternative to the concept of globalisation[,]”[6] the whole inhabited world as a place “… seeking justice, equity, reconciliation and the flourishing of the whole of creation” (ecumenical).[7] 

In the context of Church the word ecumenical is normally associated with interdenominational engagement, for example with the Methodist or Roman Catholic Churches. Today we are asked to embrace a broader understanding of ecumenism as reflected in the translation of the Greek word oikoumene as ‘the world’ in Agabus’ warning in Acts 11:28 of a great famine all over the world. The world, not just the Household of God is the place of God’s ongoing mission of reconciliation.[8] Part of the difficulty of the conversation I mentioned earlier is that we generally draw boundaries to limit our discomfort or to protect us from that which we fear. Today the conversation between the Roman Catholic Church and the Protestant Churches remains complex; we still struggle to accept other faiths such as Islam or Hinduism as legitimate routes to relationship with God. The level of ecumenism today’s theme calls us to is even more challenging as it is asking us to accept that “The calling of the church is to uphold the radical inclusivity of the household of God, in which all are invited to sit at the family table as equals.”[9] In terms of engaging with our world this requires us as the Household of God, as people of faith, as the Church, to “… be a constant witness against the economies of exclusion, which takes God given resources of the Earth and the labour of the poor and delivers them into the hands of wealthy shareholders.”[10] When we speak of the Church being political it is not on the grounds of party politics, but in challenging the injustice of our times. It is in seeking to bring about the reality of reconcilliation won through Jesus’ Resurrection that still remains so illusive to humankind. Our Eucharistic prayer for this Season reflects this longing: 

Therefore, O God, we who seek your reconciliation; we who need reconciliation one with another; we who hope for reconciliation with all of creation, [we] draw close to this mystery. 

This is no denial of the reconciliation won through Jesus’ Resurrection; it is a heart-cry to see it active in our relationships and in our world. It is a recognition that God’s gift of reconciliation – and with it justice and equity – is available to us in the mystery of the Sacrament of Holy Communion, to which we draw close. This is underscored by this morning’s Gospel reading: we get caught up on our own importance – both as individuals, but also as the Church – and our human tendency is to then become exclusionary, and exclusion is at the heart of injustice. At the heart of the Gospel interaction is the disciples’ inability to understand the comment Jesus makes about his looming betrayal and death and resurrection, and instead allow themselves to be distracted by their own desire for power and control. Intriguingly, Jesus doesn’t berate the disciples, but introduces a child – a person of no account in the context of their ambition – and turns the conversation on its head. What has been a cause for argument is now an opportunity for reconciliation as the social values of their time are “… shaken up and re-shaped into a mindblowing ‘whoever wants to be first must be a servant and must welcome a child and when they do that they actually welcome me and the one who sent me’ … crazy.”[11] 

To be truly ecumenical is for us to embrace the fullness of God’s Creation, remembering that in Genesis 1 we read that as God created God declared all creation ‘good’ and the creation of humanity ‘very good’. We don’t always see that goodness, but it’s at the heart of Creation; we don’t always see the results of God’s gift of reconciliation, but it is at the heart of the Resurrection. Rowan Williams says, “… our worship is about God coming to be in our midst, but also about God coming to deal with the wholeness of who we are.”[12] Goodness and reconciliation are not only available to those who acknowledge and seek a conscious relationship with God, it is also there for those who are asleep to it. Our responsibility is to awaken our world, and we can only do that if we engage; and we can only engage if we believe in Resurrection, or in Rowan Williams’ words, if we “… believe that the world can change, that God can turn history on its pivot, … that in all sorts of human situations it is possible for things to be different.”[13] 

To awaken our world requires that we are active in the systems and structures of our communities and our broader society, but active in an upside-down kind of way: serving, welcoming; committed to authentic reconciliation based on justice and equity. Our vocation as people of faith is to obedience; it is to offer ourselves to God as a living sacrifice in Jesus Christ our Lord, and in the power of the Holy Spirit to live to God’s praise and glory.[14] 

I close with a prayer for reconciliation by Irish Theologian and Poet, Pádraig Ó Tuama: 

Let us pray, 

Where there is separation,

there is pain.

And where there is pain,

there is story.

 

And where there is story,

there is understanding,

and misunderstanding,

listening

and not listening.

 

May we – separated peoples, estranged strangers,

unfriended families, divided communities –

turn towards each other,

and turn towards our stories,

with understanding

and listening,

with argument and acceptance,

with challenge, change

and consolation.

 

Because if God is to be found,

God will be found

in the space

between. 

Amen.[15]

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[1] Benedict J. Groeschel, C.F.R. in Julian Stead, O.S.B. Benedict: A Rule for Beginners, 2012

[2] James 3:13; NRSV

[3] Greek Oikos

[4] Greek Oikos-Nomos

[5] Season of Creation Year B, Week 2, page 14; Greek Oikos-Logia

[6] Season of Creation Year B, Week 3, page 28; Greek Oikoumene

[7] Ibid.

[8] Ibid.

[9] Diakonia Council of Churches, 2006, The Oikos Journey: A Theological Reflection on the Economic Crisis in South Africa

[10] Season of Creation Year B, Week 3, page 28; Greek Oikoumene

[11] Working Preacher, Sermon Brainwave #802: 17 Sunday after Pentecost (Ord.25B) – Sept. 19, 2021

[12] Rowan Williams, God with us: the meaning of the Cross and Resurrection - then and now

[13] Ibid.

[14] Anglican Church of Southern Africa, An Anglican Prayer Book 1989

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