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Sermon preached by Hugh Bryant at St Peter’s Church, Old Cogan, on 14th January 2024

Jerusalem the Golden

Isaiah 60:9-22 – https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=572149666

‘Jerusalem the Golden with milk and honey blest’. I have to share with you that when I was little and I first heard this hymn, of course I was struck by how joyful and beautiful everything in it was, but nothing was more striking to me than the fact that Jerusalem was the home of my favourite biscuit.

I’m not sure that you can get them any more, but Jacob’s Milk and Honey, in those days, was the biscuit that I really liked. It was a bit like a jammy dodger, but it was oval rather than round. ‘Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest’. Whatever else this wonderful place had, it had the best biscuit. Also, of course, chapter 60 in Isaiah, which Bernard of Cluny must have had in mind when he was writing our hymn in the 12th century, originally in Latin, had some very memorable lines for a little boy, which the compilers of the lectionary have chosen to omit tonight. We have started at verse nine, but I think you ought to know what you are missing. Here is some of the beginning of chapter 60 of Isaiah.

’60 Arise, shine; for thy light is come, and the glory of the Lord is risen upon thee.
2 For, behold, the darkness shall cover the earth, and gross darkness the people: but the Lord shall arise upon thee, and his glory shall be seen upon thee.
3 And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.
……..’
And then this immortal verse:

‘6 The multitude of camels shall cover thee, the dromedaries of Midian and Ephah; all they from Sheba shall come: they shall bring gold and incense; and they shall shew forth the praises of the Lord.’

The dromedaries of Midian and Ephah: dromedaries, please: not ‘young camels’ as the modern translation limply puts it. But that might have been all right when I was eight or nine years old, but what about ‘Jerusalem the golden’ today?

I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a slight feeling of unreality when I started talking about childish enthusiasms for particular types of biscuit, in the context of Jerusalem. Equally, the visions of Jerusalem shown to the Jews in Isaiah’s prophecy, on their return from exile in Babylon at the beginning of the sixth century BC, when scholars think Isaiah 60 was likely to have been written, just seem totally different from what we see today.

Jeremy Bowen, the BBC Middle East, editor, has written that, following the war of independence of Israel in 1948, and the Six Days war in 1967, ‘the Jews and the Arabs went about their business and the weight of the conflict never lifted. Israelis scrabbled to build a new state while Palestinians mourned the loss of the one they never had.’ [Bowen, J., (2022), The Making of the Modern Middle East, London, Picador; page 45].

The holy places of the three monotheistic religions, the religions of the book, so-called, Christianity, Judaism, and Islam, are all in Jerusalem, right on top of each other. For as long as most of us can remember, the Holy Land has not been entirely peaceful. there have been major wars, the Six Days War, the Arab-Israeli war.

The occupied territories on the West Bank, which did belong to Jordan, were seized by Israel in 1967: the United Nations resolutions, forbidding the Israelis from creating settlements in the occupied lands, have been ignored, and there has been a constant undercurrent of violence. When Mr Guterres, the United Nations Secretary General, indicated that he believed that the trouble had not started on seventh October, he was pointing to the terrible history of violence between the Israelis and the Palestinians over many years.

Specifically in Gaza, in 2009 Israel bombed the Gaza Strip systematically over a period of 22 days in a campaign which they called Operation Cast Lead. It killed 1400 Palestinians and on the Israeli side there were 13 casualties. What is going on now is even worse.

I have been following the proceedings in the International Court of Justice, where South Africa has started a case against Israel alleging that Israel is guilty of genocide in Gaza, and that ‘provisional measures’ to preserve the rights of either party, as they are defined in the statutes of the International Court, article 41, are being sought, which would have the effect, if the parties would obey such an order, of bringing about a ceasefire.

The Israelis have sent a full team of lawyers to appear in the Hague before the court, including several leading British barristers. They say that South Africa’s claim that Israel is guilty of genocide is wrong, for three reasons. First, that under the Genocide Convention 1948, there needs to be an intention to bring about genocide. Israel has no such intention, they say. Second, the Convention requires that there be a dispute between the parties which has not been resolved, and, they say, there is no dispute in being between South Africa and Israel. And then, finally, that what Israel is doing is self defence and not genocide.

Probably the most powerful speech from the South African side was by an Irish barrister, Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh KC, who made the most powerful speech [see https://youtu.be/yhsWyBWGoCU?si=GjVSf6PyqnHYEoC%5D, which ended up quoting a sermon which was preached at Christmas by the Reverend Dr Munther Isaac, the minister at the Evangelical Lutheran Church in Bethlehem, who is a Palestinian.

The sermon is called “Christ in the rubble.” It is available to see on YouTube and I highly recommend it. [See https://youtu.be/aEGiANa0-oI?si=whdmciTT00C6is-t%5D South Africa’s counsel, Blinne Ní Ghrálaigh KC, quoted this at the end of her address.

‘I want you to look in the mirror and ask, where was I when Gaza was going through a genocide?’

She produced staggering figures of the numbers, killed and injured, including 9000 children killed by the Israeli army, and a number of quotations from Israeli politicians suggesting that they want to drive all Palestinians out of Gaza and raze it to the ground. Dr Isaac, in his sermon, raised the issue of complicity: that Western nations, that he characterised as ‘the Empire’, (by analogy with the Roman Empire) are standing idly by or even supporting genocide, by providing arms and other support.

Clearly, there are strong arguments on both sides, but one thing which we must surely agree on, is that the current situation has nothing to do with that golden Jerusalem, with milk and honey blest.

Isaiah’s prophecy is so different.

‘I will appoint Peace as your overseer
   and Righteousness as your taskmaster. 
Violence shall no more be heard in your land,
   devastation or destruction within your borders;
you shall call your walls Salvation,
   and your gates Praise. 
The sun shall no longer be
   your light by day,
nor for brightness shall the moon
   give light to you by night;
but the Lord will be your everlasting light,
   and your God will be your glory.’

What a wonderful vision that is. Now all we need to do is to turn it into a realistic hope.

What shall we do to bring peace to the Middle East? I think that bringing things before the International Court of Justice is a good and constructive step. Others have suggested that there should be boycotts for as long as the genocide goes on.

If you agree with Dr Isaac and many other commentators, indeed, that it is genocide, then maybe there should be no more pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and we should stop buying Jaffa oranges. As the author Naomi Klein has pointed out, a campaign of boycott, divestment and sanctions was very effective in bringing about the ending of apartheid in South Africa. [See https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2024/jan/10/only-outside-pressure-can-stop-israels-war-crimes?CMP=Share_iOSApp_Other%5D

As Prof. Vaughan Lowe, KC, one of the counsel for S. Africa, said to the International Court of Justice, however awful the attack on October 7 was, 9000 Palestinian children killed, and countless others maimed, and continuing to be killed and maimed, along with tens of thousands of their mothers, cannot under any circumstances be justified as self defence. [See the verbatim record at https://www.icj-cij.org/sites/default/files/case-related/192/192-20240111-ora-01-00-bi.pdf%5D

Let us pray.

Let us pray to you Lord, that your will be done and that you will bring about peace in your Holy Land, and in particular, in Gaza, today.

Amen.

Sermon for Mattins on 19th November 2023 at All Saints Church, Penarth

Bible readings: https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=567221698

When I led the team running the food bank in Cobham, Surrey, in the second richest borough in the country – I mean in the UK, not just Wales – the old saying about the political inclinations of Anglicans rang very true; you know, that the Church of England is the ‘Conservative Party at prayer’. I can see you bristling, because I’m no longer in England, and what holds good for the Church of England may well not carry sway in Wales; and also when I see our Labour MP and our Labour MS and our Labour Police and Crime Commissioner and our Labour Mayor, all happily ensconced in the congregation here at All Saints, I can’t help feeling that perhaps the political orientation of the faithful in the church in Wales might be rather different from how things are in the darkest parts of Surrey.

What, you may ask, has this got to do with the parable of the talents? ‘For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.’ In the Authorised Version, ‘…from him that hath not, it shall be taken away, even that which he hath’. Surely this is one of the toughest things which Jesus is supposed to have said; so tough that I wonder whether he really did say it.

But then if you look at Saint Mark’s Gospel, chapter 4, you’ll find that he said almost the same words, but not referring to a parable like the parable of the talents, just rather a version of the ‘golden rule’ to do as you would be done to. ‘…the measure you give will be the measure you receive with something more besides. For those who have will be given more, and those who have not will forfeit even what they have’. That’s what is in Saint Mark’s Gospel chapter 4 [4:25].

What made me think about these socio-economic issues was when I was ‘Googling’ these lines to see if there were any brilliant insights in the University of Google, and I found in the Quora app the response to the question, what does this saying of Jesus mean, and someone had given the answer, ’It means that God is a Republican. He clearly wants the already wealthy to be given more, and for the poor to have what little they have taken away.’

Surely that can’t be right. I can dare to discuss it, because it has been neatly transposed by Quora into an American context and the parallels between the Republicans and any UK political parties are, of course, not exact; so I don’t think that I am saying anything rude about British politics, if we just keep it at this academic level. The rich get richer and the poor get poorer. Did Jesus really approve of that? 

There are even more puzzling things to tangle with if you look at the rest of the parable, because it looks like an invitation to, or at least an endorsement of, speculation. ‘You have to speculate to accumulate’, some people say, and the first two slaves did exactly that – and were successful.

It doesn’t say exactly what their trading activity was; whether they invested in making something or whether it was pure speculation, futures and options perhaps. Who knows? It does look a bit as though Jesus is attempting a Marxist analysis, that what he is talking about is capital, the uses of capital; and the third slave, the one who buried the talent in the ground, and got no credit for looking after it carefully, perhaps put into words a Marxist critique. 

‘You were a harsh man reaping where you did not sow, gathering where you did not scatter seed.’ Perhaps he was a shareholder in one of the water companies, being paid in dividends the money which should have gone to improving the quality of the water so as to put Surfers against Sewage out of business. Or somebody like the Glazers, the brothers who took over Manchester United. They borrowed all the money needed to buy Manchester United, and having bought it they used the profits of Manchester United’s activities to repay the loans. ‘Unto him who hath, it shall be added’. And the season ticket prices went through the roof – ‘… from him who hath not, …’

But are we meant to think that the absent capitalist in the parable stands for Jesus or for God, and if so, does God approve? Does He approve of speculation, more than just keeping something safe that you’ve been given to look after? The capitalist says that he should have put it in a deposit account and got interest on it. 

That’s quite a change from the usual Old Testament position in Exodus, Leviticus, and Deuteronomy. All condemn usury, which is lending at excessive rates of interest, to the detriment of the poor. It’s something that the Old Testament seems to condemn, but here Jesus seems to approve of the idea that somebody should benefit from the payment of interest on deposits. 

And the poor slave doesn’t get any credit for keeping the capitalist’s money safe. He didn’t lose it; whereas the speculators could easily have lost it. Investments can go down as well as up, as the small print always advises. Perhaps what Jesus is trying to point up is that it is better to be active, to try to work hard rather than just to sit back and go with the flow.

The reading from Zephaniah has the same sort of theme. ‘I will search Jerusalem with lamps and I will punish the people who rest complacently on their dregs’. Another translation says, ‘I shall search Jerusalem by lantern light and punish all those who are ruined by complacency, like wine left on its lees. Who say to themselves, the Lord will do nothing neither good nor bad.’ 

These people are so comfortable that they don’t care about God. But their wealth will be plundered, their houses laid in ruins. They will build houses but not live in them. Think about the new Embassy Quarter in London near where the new American embassy has been built on the south side of the River Thames, where at night there are no lights in the buildings and the restaurants are closing, because nobody lives there.

Absentee speculators have bought up the flats. They don’t live there and they don’t let anyone else live there. Just imagine the effect on the housing crisis if the councils could house some of the people on the waiting list in some of those flats. It looks as though Zephaniah was another person in the Bible with at least some views which Karl Marx would recognise.

Altogether this is challenging teaching. Perhaps Jesus was just deliberately trying to make us think. In distinct contrast with the parable of the talents, there are the stories of Dives and Lazarus, or the Good Samaritan, about generosity or the lack of it;  or turning the water into wine at the wedding in Cana in Galilee. 

I don’t see that the apparent meanness of the parable of the talents really squares with the second great Command, to love one’s neighbour as oneself, so I think it must be a discussion piece, a deliberate provocation to the disciples to think hard about economics. Granted that Jesus made five loaves and two fishes go a long way, I still don’t see him as being terribly enthusiastic about zero sums – you know, what I gain, you lose.

What would Jesus’s take on it be today? Surely he would think that the gap between the rich and the poor is far too great. And I don’t necessarily think he would recommend aggressive speculation as a way of making money. ‘Render unto Caesar’ seems to me to be a clue. Progressive taxation might be on Jesus’s agenda today, I would have thought. ‘Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves,’ might be as far as He would go. But I don’t think that the widow, with her mite, was listening.

Sermon for Mattins on 21st November 2023

Bible readings: see https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=567498722

‘Ah, Assyria, the rod of my anger—
   the club in their hands is my fury!’

The club, the rod of anger, are for beating up Israel, because they have done what is evil in the sight of the Lord. You could say this is where we often come in when we are studying the Old Testament. The Old Testament has this overriding theme, of the relationship between God and his chosen people: to what extent his chosen people follow him and obey his commandments, in which case he brings them prosperity, or do evil in the sight of God or perhaps worship other gods, in which case God punishes them.

It’s not an image of God which is particularly like the one which we normally have, of a God of love in the person of Jesus Christ. This is entirely different. God is saying, through his prophet Isaiah that there will be a war. The Assyrians will attack Israel. God will use the Assyrians to carry out punishment of the Israelites on God’s behalf. They will be the rod of his anger and the club in their hands represents God’s fury.

But the king of Assyria is not just a supine servant acting on behalf of God. Because he gets above himself.

‘Against a godless nation I send him,
   and against the people of my wrath I command him,
to take spoil and seize plunder..’
  
But then a couple of verses later:

‘But this is not what he intends,
   nor does he have this in mind;
but it is in his heart to destroy,
   and to cut off nations not a few.’

So the king of Assyria is not just after the Israelites under orders from God but he wants to go wider. He has already captured Carchemish and Arpad and Damascus, and now he has his sights on Calno and Hamath and Samaria.

‘Are not my commanders all kings? 
Is not Calno like Carchemish?
   Is not Hamath like Arpad?
   Is not Samaria like Damascus?’

It’s quite eerie to hear these names, some of which we would still associate with violence and suffering today, 3000 years later. Isaiah’s prophecy continues that when the Lord has finished all his work on Mount Zion and Jerusalem, sorting out the Israelites, and punishing them for their faithlessness, he will punish the arrogant boasting of the king of Assyria.

And you hear all about what the king of Assyria has to say:

‘By the strength of my hand I have done it,
   and by my wisdom, for I have understanding;
I have removed the boundaries of peoples,
   and have plundered their treasures;
   like a bull I have brought down those who sat on thrones. 
My hand has found, like a nest,
   the wealth of the peoples;
and as one gathers eggs that have been forsaken,
   so I have gathered all the earth’.

This is the boast of the king of Assyria. And then you have this striking image about the relative merits of weapons as against those who wield them.

‘Shall the axe vaunt itself over the one who wields it,
   or the saw magnify itself against the one who handles it?’

Again it makes us think of things today. When the Ukrainians were crying out for better weapons and our government agreed to send them Challenger 2 tanks and Storm Shadow missiles, somehow that seemed to be almost more of a consideration than the bravery of the soldiers who would use those weapons. One can’t go too far with that analogy, because obviously without the right weapons, a soldier is not able to fight at all.

But here in this passage from Isaiah the point that the prophet is making, that the king of Assyria is effectively God’s secret weapon, still requires that he must not get above himself. He still has to follow God’s orders. As between God and the Israelites, Assyria is the weapon, not the commander. So God will cut him down to size.

‘Therefore the Sovereign, the Lord of hosts,
   will send wasting sickness among his stout warriors,
and under his glory a burning will be kindled,
   ……
The remnant of the trees of his forest will be so few
   that a child can write them down.’

Chilling imagery. What is it for? We really don’t have, as far as I can see, any equivalent today. People just don’t talk in those terms. We tend to think of prophets, if we think of them at all, as people who foretell the future. But that’s plainly not what Isaiah is doing here. Isaiah is the mouthpiece of God.

We really are a long way away when we read this. Isaiah was writing around 700BC – BCE – so 2,700 years ago. I’m not sure that there is any prophecy of this type these days. But if not, it’s even more difficult for us to make anything of what Jesus says in our New Testament lesson. How could we tell, if somebody claims to be a prophet, whether they are genuine? If someone pops up and tells us that God wants us to do something or other, the question arises, is he or she a false prophet?

If church leaders want to do particular things, are they following the word of God, or God’s command, or not? Jesus simply said, by their fruits you shall know them. So if somebody tells you that God wants you to do something which isn’t likely to turn out well, then Jesus suggests that you can take it that it is not genuine prophecy.

Perhaps although talking about prophecy seems to come quite strangely to us, nevertheless it could be good to look at what the implications are, in spiritual terms, of what people are telling us is a good thing to do.

In the first chapter of Isaiah’s prophecy, he identifies what it looks like to be godless.

‘Your rulers obey no rules and are hand in glove with thieves. Everyone loves a bribe and is greedy for his profit. They never defend the rights of the orphan and the widow’s cause never comes up before them.’

Again it’s frighteningly contemporary. Perhaps we should think again about prophets and prophecy. If you go away and have a little read of the first few chapters of the book of Isaiah, you will immediately stumble on the passages which we often read during Advent and at Christmas about the coming of the Messiah, about Emmanuel, God with us.

‘For to us a child will be born, to us a son will be given. The government rests upon his shoulders
and his name shall be
wonderful, counsellor, mighty God,
everlasting father, prince of peace.’

But we haven’t got there yet. As we move towards Advent, this picture, of God’s anger with his chosen people, is something which we need to reflect on and pray about, because it is uncomfortably close to home.

Bible readings: https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=567221767

This morning we thought about the parable of the talents and Zephaniah’s prophecy of doom directed at people whose wealth had made them contemptuous of God, who built houses and did not live in them. We were thinking about economics, and wondering whether Jesus and the prophets had to some extent foreseen some of the insights of Karl Marx.

So this morning was economics and this afternoon is politics, or to be more precise, government. We have a description of the change of government, 3,000 years ago in the time of King David. We may look forward to a general election from time to time, but King David could do it simply by having his successor, his son Solomon, anointed, as a result of a promise which he had made to his mother Bathsheba.

You will remember the pretty dreadful story in the second book of Samuel, chapters 11 and 12, telling how King David had taken a fancy to Uriah’s wife Bathsheba when he accidentally saw her in the bath; he engineered for Uriah her husband, who was a soldier, to be put in harm’s way and killed in battle so that he could marry Bathsheba, and how the prophet Nathan had told this story.

‘In a certain town there lived two men, one rich and one poor.  The rich man had large flocks and herds; the poor man had nothing of his own except one little ewe lamb he had bought. He reared it and it grew up in his home together with his children. It shared his food, drank from his cup and nestled in his arms. It was like a daughter to him. 

‘One day a traveller came to the rich man’s house and he, too mean to take anything from his own flock or herd to serve to his guest, took the poor man’s lamb and served that up.’ David was very angry and burst out, ’As the Lord lives, that man deserves to die! He shall pay for the lamb four times over because he has done this and shown no pity.’ Nathan said to David, you are the man.’ [2 Samuel 12:1-7]

And David repented, although the Lord still punished him by saying that the child which he had fathered adulterously with Bathsheba would die, and he did: but then they had another son, Solomon, and David promised to Bathsheba that Solomon would inherit the kingdom after him.

Our lesson today was about how that promise was carried out. David, although he was a bad man in many respects, was a great king, and he kept his promises. I’m not sure that there is more than historical interest in the story so far as we are concerned, because we do depend on democracy in being ruled, rather than the divine right of kings.

Jesus was known as the son of David; he was in a line of descent from King David as the enormous and slightly different genealogies, that you find in Matthew 1 and Luke 3, demonstrate. It was important in that world to be able to prove your ancestry. Perhaps there is a small lesson about how people can change their ways, reform and repent, because there is an interesting little sideline at the very beginning of the lesson from the first book of Kings which we had. The king was very old and Abishag the Shunnamite was attending the King. She was another beautiful young woman, much in the way that Bathsheba had been. But we are told, a little bit earlier, that she had been brought in essentially to keep the old King David warm in bed. But the account takes care to tell us that he did not misbehave. There was no hanky-panky.

In our second lesson we go from divine succession 3,000 years ago to the end times, God the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end. This is something which is far beyond our understanding. If you think of our expanding knowledge of the cosmos, of the billions of years and billions of miles in time and space, it seems odd that one can simply say that God is the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. 

I think that mathematicians and philosophers will struggle today to tell you really what a beginning or an end of everything could possibly be. There will be some who will say that indeed they are logically impossible, because whatever you suggest to be the beginning, you can always imagine something that came before it; and the same is true of numbers, that whatever number you end up with, you can always add another one. 

So St John’s vision, when he was ‘in the spirit on the Lord’s day’, is as good as anything, as a vision of something which is completely beyond man’s understanding. This figure, of the ‘Son of Man’ clothed with a long robe with a sash of gold across his chest, says, ‘Do not be afraid. I am the first and the last, and the living one.’ It’s a vision of the kingdom. ‘Look, he is coming with the clouds. Every eye will see him, even those who pierced him’.

Well, I don’t think we are ready for him. Our world is full of terrible war, and our government, which I guess, at least so far as the ministers are concerned, you could say has not really been democratically elected but rather anointed, seems more concerned to be inhospitable to poor desperate refugees, than to do any of the other things that a good government should surely do. 

This is the time in the Christian year called the kingdom season, when we look forward to the coming of Jesus into the kingdom of God. But are we ready, and would we recognise Jesus? What if he came on one of those boats, or what if he was one of the brave surgeons still operating in the hospitals in Gaza? 

What would Jesus say? Dare one say it, he might well say it was time for a general ceasefire – everywhere.  All hostilities. This is the beginning. This is the ‘alpha’ of the kingdom. Let us pray that, until things get better, until ‘they shall not hurt or destroy on God’s holy mountain’, until then, there may be an alpha – but no omega.

From a Sermon for All Saints and All Souls, 5th November 2023

By Hugh Bryant

I think we need to give some time, as Christians, not only to the Saints and to the souls of our faithful departed, but also to all the other people who have died and tragically are still dying today, in circumstances where we need to cry out to the Lord and pray for his comfort and relief.

Until a month ago if I had been preaching this sermon, I would’ve mentioned first the war in Ukraine, and indeed I still do so. We will pray for a just and peaceful outcome to that terrible conflict. The same is true of the conflicts in Syria, Yemen and the Sudan.

But I suppose that, particularly as it is happening in or near to places we read about or have made pilgrimages to in the Holy Land, the conflict that is uppermost in our minds today, and which is exercising us so much, is the tragic conflict in Israel and Palestine, and particularly in Gaza – and in the area just outside Gaza where the conflict began, with the terrible attack on the people in the kibbutz and the music festival, by Hamas.

There are saints and souls here as well. In our Old Testament lesson some of us will probably have been moved by the thought that our reading comes in the middle of a passage in Isaiah [chapter 66] where the prophet sets out a vision of the new earth, of the new Jerusalem, of God’s holy mountain; a vision perhaps of heaven. A vision of the promised land, where God’s chosen people will come ‘on horses and chariots’, (and also on ‘dromedaries’, you’ll be pleased to know.) They will come ‘to my holy mountain, Jerusalem’, says the Lord.

But what is happening in Israel and Palestine does not look like what is supposed to be happening on God’s holy mountain. There are Christians caught up in this as well. Admittedly the number of Christians living in the Holy Land has diminished greatly, but there are Palestinian and Israeli Christians as well; and Saint George’s Cathedral in Jerusalem. What do the Christians say? What would Jesus say?

In all the discussions about whether there have been breaches of international law there is a key concept, we are told, which is ‘proportionality’. In self defence, is the response proportional? It sounds very like what Jesus was talking about in the Sermon on the Mount. An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.

Scholars have told us that the principle of an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, which comes in Exodus chapter 21, Leviticus 24 or Deuteronomy chapter 19, means not that there is carte blanche to take revenge without restraint but that, just as in international law, any retaliation must be strictly in proportion, so only one eye for one eye and only one tooth for one tooth.

Let us look at what has happened and what is happening in the light of that. Leave aside for a minute what principles Hamas may have followed to justify their initial attack – and of course we have heard from the United Nations Secretary General Mr Guterres and others that it didn’t come from nowhere, but only after many years of oppression of the people of Gaza.

But leaving that on one side, Hamas killed just under 2000 people, but at the last count Israel has killed over 9000 people, of whom 4000 have been children; and it is not the case that they have been retaliating just against their enemies, because it’s quite clear that only a very small minority of the people in Gaza belong to Hamas. So even according to the Jewish law as set out in Exodus, Leviticus and Deuteronomy, the law of ‘an eye for an eye’, it looks as though what Israel has been doing is wrong. And it follows that it is a clear breach of international law. As indeed was the initial Hamas attack, because, however frustrated and oppressed the people of Gaza may be, nothing would justify the violence which Hamas meted out on seventh October.

So where are the saints? What should we, as Jesus’ saints, say? Jesus had an answer. As reported in Saint Matthew’s Gospel chapter 5, Jesus said, ‘You have heard that it was said, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. But I say to you, do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also… And again, you have heard that it was said, you shall love your neighbour and hate your enemies. But I say to you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.’

Just imagine what might happen if Israel adopted that strategy! They would no longer be trying to annihilate Hamas, and if so, Hamas would surely no longer want them to be erased from the earth – it would no longer be an eye for an eye. The Good Friday Agreement shows that it can happen.

So when we pray for all saints and all souls, let us pray also that Jesus’ message, the message of love and peace, will finally be listened to, and that there will be peace in the Holy Land.

Sermon at Evensong on 15th October 2023 at All Saints Church, Penarth

Bible readings referred to:

https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=564029064

Writing a sermon this week has been a challenge. In the face of the terrible events in Israel and Palestine, it doesn’t seem right for me just to give you a more or less academic, measured exposition of two Bible lessons, coupled with some observations on the words of the psalm, unless that analysis and exposition in some way bears on how we as Christians should respond to the crisis in the Middle East.

I am not going to add much to the huge number of more or less wise words which have been written or said by commentators, journalists and scholars, who all know far more than I do. 

But starting with our Bible readings; how can a sentence such as the beginning of our new Testament lesson, “See what love the father has given us, that we should be called children of God”, say anything about the bestial violence perpetrated by Hamas and the disproportionate retribution meted out by Israel? I honestly think that the only thing we can say is that two wrongs do not make a right. But that doesn’t take away the wrongness of either of the wrongs.

I suggest that there will be no chance of restoring peace unless the parties understand where the actions being taken are supposed to lead. What is the ultimate objective? Granted, of course, that Israel has the right to defend itself, what should that mean, precisely? Does the objective justify breaking international law? Cutting off fresh water, food and power, and forcing the civilian population of an area to leave, are said, by representatives of the United Nations, of the World Health Organisation and of the EU, to be breaches of that law.

Everybody can trade historical references. Moses leading the Jews into the ‘promised land’. The Balfour Declaration in 1917, according to which there would be created a national home for the Jews in Palestine, on the express understanding that no harm would be done to the indigenous inhabitants, to the Palestinians, by the arrival of the Jews; the creation of the state of Israel, following a revolt against British rule, carried out by what we would regard as a terrorist organisation, the Stern Gang, in which Yitzhak Shamir, who became the prime minister of Israel, figured prominently, in the end of the 1940s; The Six-Day War; the Yom Kippur War; the Camp David agreement; the two state solution; they are all earnestly rehearsed by somebody or other in relation to this crisis.

Not all – not many – Palestinians are terrorists; they don’t all belong to Hamas. Not all Jews are Zionists, supporting the occupation of settlements on the West Bank in contravention of United Nations resolutions. 

But the world stands by. 

What does it mean for a government to say they ‘stand with’ Israel? Does it mean that they turn a blind eye if the international law against making war on civilians is ignored? They are happy to condemn Hamas for exactly the same crime, for that is the nature of Hamas’ terrorism, that they made war on civilians.

So what does St John say in his first letter? He says that ‘everyone who commits sin is guilty of lawlessness’, and that ‘sin is lawlessness’. It’s not specified in the Greek text which law is being referred to, just ‘law’. The New English Bible dares to say that it is the law of God. Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy strength. And thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. 

That is the essence of the law of God. But it doesn’t actually say that here. It just says that committing sin is to be lawless, is to break the law. So that could also be the law of man, including international law. So you could say that, according to St John’s first letter, a lot of what is going on in the Middle East, on both sides, is sinful.

But, as the editor of the Church Times, Paul Handley, says in his editorial this week, ‘The conventions of war are fictions. They apply a veneer of civilisation to violence, but they lure people into the confused business of judging relative guilt and innocence. There is, of course, no difference between an infant in Kibbutz Kfar Aza, stabbed to death by a Hamas militant, or an infant in a flat in Gaza City, killed by a retaliatory Israeli missile strike.’

Our psalm today is that wonderful vision of God knowing every bit about us, even before we were made, and saying that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made”. But looking at what’s going on in Gaza, and just outside, that isn’t really the psalm that we would choose.“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” – Psalm 22, seems much more apt. But, maybe, there is still ground for hope. 

Recent history has at least two wonderful examples, where people who were mired in conflict, bitterly hating one another, and committing atrocities, found ways to bring about peace; in apartheid South Africa, and in Northern Ireland during the time of the troubles. In Northern Ireland they made the Good Friday agreement, and in South Africa, Nelson Mandela got Archbishop Tutu to run the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

Just as Saint John says, “What we will be has not yet been revealed“, rather in the way that St Paul said, in his first letter to the Corinthians, that, although today we see ‘as through a glass, darkly’, then we shall see him face-to-face: so John also says, “We must not be like Cain who was from the evil one and murdered his brother…. We know that we have passed from death to life because we love one another”. Can we bring love back to the Middle East?

The former Israeli ambassador in London, Mark Regev, was interviewed on Newsnight by Mark Urban. When asked how he would justify invading Gaza and killing civilians as well as Hamas fighters, he said, ‘What else would you do? If the world sees that Hamas can attack Israel and Israel does nothing, Israel will no longer be safe’.

But what if there was truth and reconciliation? What if Israel made Gaza something other than a giant prison camp; what if the Palestinians were able to travel freely and engage in economic activity without restraint? Then surely Israel need no longer feel threatened by what the editor of the Church Times describes as ‘a young Gazan man, brutalised from childhood by the deprivations inflicted by Israel and infected by the murderous ideology of the Hamas organisation’.

Then I believe we could have sure and certain hope, that we will see the present things as sinful as they are; hope that we will see ourselves as the Lord sees us, and that peace will come again through the lawfulness of love. 

Let it be so: Lord, hear our prayer.

Sermon for Mattins (Morning Prayer) on 3rd October 2023 at All Saints Church, Penarth

Readings: https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=563256396

It occurred to me that you might be a bit fed up if I spent the next 10 minutes talking about the Last Supper, Jesus shocking the disciples and forecasting that one of them was going to betray him, but then going on to celebrate very first Holy Communion. I think it will be a bit of an anticlimax to hear a sermon all about that and then not to receive communion, but as you know, we are not doing a holy communion service this morning.

If we look at our other lesson, the reading is from the prophet Ezekiel who was writing from exile in Babylon, making a prophecy about the circumstances under which God’s chosen people the Israelites would return to Jerusalem. Our reading comes after a few lines in which Ezekiel mentions that the existing people, who are currently in Jerusalem, have suggested that the Israelites should go away and find somewhere else. It resonates; it’s sad, even today.

It does have the well-known lines about the Lord promising to the Israelites that when they come to Jerusalem he will give them ‘one heart and put a new spirit within them’; he will remove the ‘heart of stone’ from them and give them a ‘heart of flesh’ so that they may ‘follow God’s statutes and keep his ordinances, and obey them’, so that ‘they shall be his people and he will be their God.’

In one sense the whole of the Old Testament is all about the history of Israel’s being obedient and then disobedient to the Lord their God and all the various consequences thereof. Again, I think it doesn’t really fit for me to go into that in more detail this morning. We would need a learned seminar at least.

So if I’m not going to spend a lot of time on our lessons – I hope that you will forgive me for so doing – what do I want to dwell on? Perhaps it’s not strictly true, that I am completely ignoring our readings, because I saw something in the passage from Ezekiel, which sparked a thought within me, which I hope will be worth our pursuing together. That is that after Ezekiel has finished his prophecy, we are told that the cherubim lifted up their wings ‘with the wheels beside them.’

If you go to the beginning of the book of Ezekiel, in the first chapter, he says that he was among the exiles by the River Chebar, and the heavens were opened, and he saw visions of God. He saw extraordinary visions of four living creatures, the cherubim, with four wings, and four different faces each; and there were wheels.

It was sometimes described as the vision of the chariot. ‘When they moved, [the wheels] moved in any of the four directions without veering’. Perhaps the mechanical engineers in our congregation will be able to confirm that this is, perhaps, one of the earliest references to Ackermann steering that we’ve come across in literature.

But anyway, there is something on wheels; and that’s what piqued me, because in among all the other things we have to deal with at the moment in our lives, there are a lot of people exercised about something on wheels, namely, the 20 mile an hour speed limit.

Now, I want you to be immediately reassured; I am not about to turn into Jeremy Clarkson, or side vehemently with one or other of the parties in the Senedd, on this issue: but it did seem to me that it was a good opportunity for us to discuss how we put our faith into practical effect in today’s world.

Is there a Christian way to look at the 20 mile an hour speed limit? I suppose the key to all this, if we are Christians, is to ask, what would Jesus do? If Jesus was around today, how would he approach the 20 mile an hour speed limit? What is the Christian approach to it?

This is a bit like when I was studying Latin and Greek at school and university and we had to do prose composition; you might be given the Times editorial from a couple of days earlier and asked to put it into the Latin of Tacitus or the Greek of Demosthenes. Our teachers delighted in finding modern passages with things that didn’t exist in classical antiquity, such as trains and aeroplanes. What is the Ancient Greek equivalent of Concorde?

It’s just the same problem that we have in this case, wondering what Jesus would have done about the 20 mile an hour limit. What sort of car would Jesus be driving? So far as I know, the only form of locomotion which Jesus used was a variety of ponies, starting with Shanks’ and extending to the famous ass on Palm Sunday.

Presumably there were horses and carts, but the only ones that we hear about in the Bible are chariots, predominantly in a warlike context. In Psalm 20, for instance, ‘…some trust in chariots, some in horses, but we will make mention of the name of the Lord our God.’

But I don’t think that a chariot is really a parallel with a motor car today, or even with an SUV, come to think of it. If that was the case, Jesus would have been rumbling about in a tank or an armoured fighting vehicle. I certainly don’t think that I see Jesus riding on a Challenger II on his way into Jerusalem. No, it looks as though Jesus was much more often travelling at 4 mph, walking pace, or alternatively, at maybe 5 knots in a fishing boat on the sea of Galilee.

So what is the underlying message, which we could draw a parallel with, over the gap of 2000 years? I would like to suggest that it is a message about slowing down, that whatever form of locomotion we are using, whether it is on foot or in a car, or in a chariot or on a train, or in a boat, the message of the 20 mph zone is to slow down, and moreover, to slow down for reasons given which have to do with care for our environment and so as to avoid harm to our neighbours, by not running them over.

I think that when we consider God’s creatures and caring for them, slowing down will be good for all creatures, not only cutting down the number of people knocked down on the road, but it will also be good for animals; cats and squirrels, for example.

Do you think that Jesus would go along with this sort of reasoning? I wonder if, by contrast, there were actually any experiences that Jesus would have had, which would have given him a taste for speed. On the water, the only thing I can think of again points to slowing down, when he stilled the storm, so force 10, 70 mph, winds dropped to a pleasant breeze.

As you can see, I am beginning to think that Jesus is coming out as Captain Slow, but maybe there are other factors that I haven’t taken into account. Maybe there is such a thing as Captain Too Slow. What do you think Jesus would have done? Let us dwell on that with a little prayer, every time we set our speed limiter to 20 in the car.

Amen.

Hugh Bryant

Sermon for Mattins on 3rd Sept 2023 at All Saints Church, Penarth

Romans 12:9-21

Matthew 16:21-28

https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=560606098

What does it mean to be a Christian? Is it one of those organisations that have a rule book or a constitution which you have to keep to if you are going to be a member? Some people say that they think that what’s really valuable about Christianity is that it provides a moral compass that people can live by, especially today, when even in public life people do things and say things that perhaps in the past we wouldn’t have thought possible.

I won’t try to trace that pattern through recent history, in case I say something wrong about one of your heroes; but I think one could mention in passing things like former President Trump continuing to repeat a patently untrue story about having won the last election, for example: and I think it would be fair enough to have in mind some of the things that former prime ministers of recent years have said as well, as being ‘economical with the actualité’, as somebody once described it. You hear people say, ‘Things are going to the dogs’: ‘The policeman are getting smaller’: ‘Nobody knows the difference between right and wrong any more’.

So it’s interesting to come across what almost looks like a rule book for being a Christian, in what St Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome. ‘Let love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold fast to what is good’. ‘Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. Contribute to the needs of the saints; extend hospitality to strangers.’ It reminds us of Jesus’s own Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5). St Paul says do not repay anyone evil for evil, for example. Live in harmony with one another – and in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus says don’t just go tit for tat, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, but turn the other cheek; if someone wants your shirt, give him your coat as well. If a ‘man in authority’ makes you go one mile, go with him two. Give when you are asked to give and don’t turn your back on someone who asks for a loan. Jesus and Paul are pretty similar. This is the moral philosophy of Jesus Christ. Saint Paul, writing to the Romans, was probably writing before any of the gospels were written down, so it’s pretty clear that what he was saying reflected what all the early Christians held to by way of their moral beliefs.

I was thinking about that when I started listening to one of those radio programmes where the Archbishop of Canterbury interviews various people. I don’t know whether you’ve come across them, on BBC Radio 4, but I heartily recommend them. They are absolutely fascinating. The interviews are with a very wide variety of people. I think it’s true to say that most of them are top people, leaders, in one way or another, but they’re not necessarily people who would immediately spring to mind as wanting to have a public chat with the Archbishop of Canterbury.

A person like that was a lady called Dr Susan Blackmore, whom I’m sure some of you will know far better than I do: she was certainly a new one on me. It turns out that she is a ‘psychologist who is interested in the paranormal and matters spiritual’, according to the BBC, and who is keen on ‘Zen meditation’.

A lot of the people that Archbishop Justin interviews are not actually believers but are atheists, and Dr Blackmore is one like that. What struck me was that she and Justin Welby both seemed largely to believe in the same moral principles: they would both, I think, have recognised the same things as being good and bad; and if you took the labels off I think that Dr Blackmore would have been quite happy with most of the moral ideas outlined by Saint Paul – and indeed, by Jesus himself. She certainly believes that mankind is capable of altruism, going the extra mile and so on, being generous to strangers, and also, to some extent, in being ultimately generous: ‘greater love hath no man’ and all that, sacrificing oneself for your friend.

Then a very interesting moment in the conversation happened. These two people, who appeared to be identikit decent middle-class English people, with plenty of goodwill towards their fellow men and women, suddenly came to something which clearly stopped both of them in their tracks.

That was this: Dr Blackmore asked the Archbishop, “Hey, look: what would happen if it turned out that you discovered that there was good scientific evidence that the resurrection of Jesus Christ never happened, and that Jesus had died just like any one of us – and stayed dead?” Clearly Dr Blackmore expected him to say that it wouldn’t matter too much; that he had a ‘belief in the round’ and that he would still be a Christian even if it turned out that Jesus was just another bloke, perhaps a prophet, as Muslims believe.

But Archbishop Justin didn’t say that. He said, “Well, if Jesus wasn’t resurrected from the dead, it would be over. All my Christianity would be washed up instantly.” He said that it might be possible, perhaps, that he would revert to a kind of agnostic position about whether there was a God, in the sense of an ultimate creator, but he was quite clear that, just like St Paul, he believes that the whole thing depends on the resurrection of Jesus. In his first letter to the Corinthians Paul says, “If Christ was not raised, then our gospel is null and void” (1 Cor. 15:14).

It isn’t the case that Christians believe in a sort of generalised creator, a creative force, some kind of ill-defined spiritual positive force, what William Paley in the 17th century referred to as the divine watchmaker: a creator, who, sure enough, created the world and everything in it, and just like a watchmaker he had made the mechanism and set it off, and away it went without any further interference from him. That’s not Christianity.

Christianity is about Christ; and that crunch moment is what we see in the story from Saint Matthew’s Gospel, with Saint Peter trying to talk Jesus out of going to suffer and die in Jerusalem. Jesus knew what was waiting for him, and he told the disciples about it. Peter reacted as I think any of us might have reacted if we’d been there. He didn’t want to see this good man, who’d taught him so much and had shown him so many wonderful things, hurt in any way.

But he didn’t get it. Peter acknowledged Jesus as his Messiah, as his heavenly king come on Earth. But he didn’t really know how that worked. He probably had a picture in mind of something more like an earthly king, a King David or a Roman emperor in triumph; and of course, Jesus turned everything upside down, as he always did. The triumph was a triumph over suffering. He had to suffer first, before his triumph, because he wasn’t a king who was above all suffering, but was rather a king who was at the heart of everything, suffering what his people suffered – and worse.

It might be interesting at that point just to look back to the differences between how St Paul saw morality as it affects Christians – and how Jesus himself did ; and to compare it with somebody like Dr Blackmore the psychologist, who denied that there was any such thing as free will, but seemed to be able to recognise good and evil nevertheless. She certainly didn’t acknowledge that there was a God, or that Jesus was in any way divine. I think that, although she didn’t actually say so, she didn’t believe in the resurrection.

But if you say that you don’t believe that people can choose what they do freely, because you’re determined, pre-programmed, so you are fixed by your evolution, your genes and your experience, then is there any real meaning to good and evil? Dr Blackmore is left looking down an empty hole. On the other hand Saint Paul can say, “Hold fast to what is good”, because he can point to what Jesus has said, and through Jesus, in Jesus, Saint Paul recognised ultimate reality, a justification for everything.

Justin Welby said that when he was 19, in his second year at university, a friend had taken him to church and then on to supper, during which the friend had been telling him about the cross and the resurrection of Jesus, and the Archbishop said there was suddenly a ‘sense of presence’ in the room. “I’m not sure how to explain that,” he said, and his friend had apparently said, “What do you want to do now?” The Archbishop had said, “Whatever it is, it is good – and I need to cooperate with it”.

It’s perhaps a bit like John Wesley, walking down Aldersgate Street to a Bible study meeting, to study one of St Paul’s letters, and he said he was feeling a little bit reluctant, perhaps because he had done too much Bible study that day, and then all of a sudden he ‘felt his heart strangely warmed’. He had a strong feeling that Jesus, God, was there and that He did care, personally, for him.

Dr Blackmore by contrast, when she was 19, had one of those out of body experiences – although she did say she was smoking cannabis at the time – but apparently she experienced a very real feeling of going down a tunnel with a light at the end, which is an experience which quite a number of other people have testified to, but which doesn’t necessarily lead you to believe in God.

So what is it that makes you a Christian as opposed to someone who does Zen meditation? The difference is Jesus. The difference is the unique history of Jesus. After this we will say the creed – we’ll say, “I believe”- and there is nothing like it. Maybe there are some bits that you find difficult to understand or even to believe. But taken as a whole it is like the constitutional document for being a Christian.

I believe. I believe in God the father Almighty. I believe in Jesus Christ, who was crucified, died and was buried. On the third day he rose again. There is nothing like it. Frankly we wouldn’t be here, and there wouldn’t be people in church all round the world, if that was some kind of illusion, if it hadn’t happened.

As the Archbishop himself said, there are today about 85 million Anglicans, let alone the other denominations, Roman Catholics, Baptists, Methodists, Lutherans, Pentecostals, Orthodox, and although in Western Europe and in the northern hemisphere generally, fewer people are coming to Christ, in the world as a whole Christianity it’s still far and away the biggest and fastest-growing religion.

Christ is coming to more and more people. More and more people are being confronted by this amazing story and realising that they can’t make sense of their lives without in some meaningful way coming to terms with it. And they realise that coming to terms with it isn’t necessarily a picnic.

As Jesus himself said, ‘If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me’. It’s not a prosperity gospel. It can be tough, but once you’ve confronted it – once it’s confronted you – then your life is changed forever. If you do the things that St Paul recommends, your love will be genuine, you will rejoice in hope, you will be patient in your suffering; and, so far as it depends on you, if it is possible, (because Paul is a realist), you will live ‘peaceably’ with all.

That’s a perfect context for this service. What we are doing is celebrating, praising, the God who came to us in the form of a man, went through terrible suffering, died, in the most horrible and undeniable way, and then, on the third day, he rose again. So today we must give him our praise; and we must show our love, love for God and love for each other.

Sermon for Evensong on 20th August 2023, the Eleventh Sunday after Trinity, at All Saints Church, Penarth

Psalm 90
2 Kings 4.1-37
Acts 16.1-15

Lessons: see https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=559621754

Psalm: see https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=559621924

‘A thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday’, says Psalm 90: or as we sing in Isaac Watts’ beautiful hymn, ‘A thousand ages in thy sight are like an evening gone’. I actually think that Isaac Watts’ version of psalm 90 is a bit more positive than the Psalmist’s. The psalm seems to me to be pretty fixed on the frailty of human life – ‘The days of our age are three score years and ten’ and so on – on which basis I have been on demurrage for two years. I know it ends up with a plea for God’s lovingkindness, so that we may rejoice and be glad all the days of our life – quite a contrast with how it starts out. However bleak its message might seem originally, in Cranmer’s Book of Common Prayer Psalm 90 is given the Latin name Domine, refugium, ‘Lord, thou hast been our refuge.’ 

I think that does set the tone. Life is tough; all sorts of things can easily go wrong; our lives are precarious and impermanent; and if you are a Daily Mail reader, there are always dreadful stories to make you cross about people coming to sticky ends in various ways. But as Isaac Watts says, God is our refuge. ‘O God our help in ages past and our hope for years to come’.

As I look round at you all faithfully gathered here for Evensong, I know that we all have a story, a story that we might or might not want other people to know about. Everybody has good and bad things in their lives. Some of us are probably sitting here wrestling with things that are really worrying or really upsetting or things that really make us afraid. The two stories from the Old Testament about Elisha the prophet, the man of God, give you examples, pretty terrible examples, of the sort of thing that people might be quietly living with, even today.

The first one is all about the poor widow who hasn’t got enough money and a creditor has come to take her two children to be slaves. I’m sure there are people stuck in the cost of living crisis, and some of them may even be here, who just don’t know where the money is going to come from to pay for the basics of life.

Even in The Guardian, which is not usually as gloomy as the Daily Mail, there was an item reporting that bailiffs have experienced a huge boom in their business because people have suddenly become unable to pay their debts. In the poor widow’s case, Elisha fixed it by giving her a miraculous supply of oil which she could sell in order to raise money to pay off her debts. God, through his prophet Elisha, had given her a refuge from destitution. 

Again, for the Shunammite woman, Elisha came to the rescue, twice. First of all he made it for her and her husband to have a baby, and then when the boy suffered some kind of brain fever and died, he raised him to life again. Through his holy prophet, God was a refuge and strength to her.  The Shunammite woman became friends with Elisha. She offered him a meal regularly on his travels through, and she invited him to stay with them. 

In the New Testament that’s what another rich woman, Lydia, the dealer in purple cloth, did for Saint Paul and his party – who seem to have included Luke, the author of the Gospel and also of the book  Acts of the Apostles;  you notice half way through this passage it stops being written in the third party (‘When they had come opposite … they attempted to go into Bithynia… ‘) and changes to ‘we’:  ‘We set sail for Troas …’ ‘We’; so the author is there, so the story is even more vivid. 

But the key thing is that Lydia and her household were listening to what Paul and the other disciples were saying as they were gathered outside the gate by the river. She and her household were baptised, and then she said, ‘Come and stay with me’. She persuaded them: ‘She prevailed upon us’.

So the refuge, God’s refuge, is a literal refuge. It’s a place to stay. Both Elisha, the man of God, and St Paul and St Luke with him and Timothy, that he had brought from Lystra, who had a Greek father. There’s a big tradition for prophets and preachers to be travellers, spreading the word as they go from town to town. In that connection I wanted to mention that, not too far away from here, is Wesley’s Chapel in Bristol. 

It’s a beautiful church – which is configured rather differently from our church, in the sense that the Lord’s table, the sanctuary, where communion is taken, is not actually the most important feature: the most important feature is the pulpit and the lecterns below it; a triple-decker, for prayer, reading the lesson, and preaching; because to the Wesleys and the early Methodists, the ‘Word’ was the most important thing. (As you know, I was brought up a Methodist originally, and I always feel most comfortable when I am six feet above contradiction in the pulpit, as I am now). 

But the really interesting thing about Wesley’s chapel in Bristol is that it contains almost a built-in hotel. There are bedrooms for visiting preachers to stay in, a library and a study where the preacher can write his sermon. Somewhere to stay, a refuge.

Does that ring a bell with you? I’ve mentioned the cost of living crisis and debts and things, and the need for us to pray for God’s lovingkindness in those difficulties. But what does ‘refuge’ put you in mind of? It puts me in mind of refugees. 

I want to tell you that someone, who has become a friend of All Saints (although he is a Muslim), the Jordanian refugee who was living with me for nearly the whole of my first year here in Penarth, is going to be in front of the Immigration Appeal Tribunal in Newport on Tuesday. I would really like to ask you all to bear him in your prayers, to pray that there will be a fair outcome finally to his long quest for asylum here. The alternative, which the Home Office has been trying to achieve for the last four years, is to send him back to Jordan, where he faces at least a year in jail, for a political offence.

I believe that his case falls fairly and squarely within the provisions of the Refugee Convention 1951 and he does now have a good legal team representing him. But he still needs our prayers. He needs our prayers and our willingness to continue to support him and all those others like him where it’s not safe for them to return to their homes for one reason or another – to support them by providing a refuge. 

This is not necessarily the time or the place to discuss in detail the merits or otherwise of government policy in relation to refugees, but suffice to say that it is somewhat questionable whether the latest legislation conforms with the Refugee Convention (which was itself largely drafted by British lawyers at the prompting of Winston Churchill). 

There is no obligation under the Convention on people to claim asylum in the first country they come to. The Convention provides that the country where they arrive, even if their mode of arrival is deemed to be illegal, is not to punish them in any way for that illegal arrival, and there are strenuous provisions against what is called ‘refoulement’, which is a French term which means returning people to another country. If anybody would like to see the text of the Convention, see https://www.unhcr.org/about-unhcr/who-we-are/1951-refugee-convention.

But let’s go back to Domine, Refugium; God, our refuge. We, the faithful people, have been commanded by our Lord to love our neighbour. I don’t know where the idea of the ‘hostile environment’ comes from, but it certainly didn’t come from Theresa May’s visits to her parish church. There is nothing Christian about it. 

What is Christian is a refuge. There is a charity that I support, called Refugees at Home, and I commend it to you. Because you might say, it’s all very well talking about providing a refuge, but there isn’t an awful lot that we as individuals can do. That may be true; but I can tell you that I have had several refugees staying in my spare room from time to time. I’ve had delightful Turks, Syrians, and Jordanians, and I would say that I have learned a lot and made new friends by being able to put refugees up for a few weeks in my spare room. 

Not everybody is fortunate enough to have a spare room; but if you are wondering what you might be able to do practically, and if you do have a spare room, do consider contacting Refugees at Home.  Again, I can give you details, if you ask me at the end of the service. 

Lydia said, ‘If you have judged me to be faithful to the Lord, come and stay at my home.’ And ‘she prevailed upon us’. I wonder if there will be a Lydia around among here in the next few weeks. I hope so. And I pray so. 

Sermon for Parish Eucharist on the 8th Sunday after Trinity, 30th July 2023 at All Saints, Penarth

1 Kings 3:5-12

Romans 8:26-39

Matthew 13:31-33, 44-52

https://bible.oremus.org/?ql=557551823

‘Can I have a second-class single off-peak with a Senior Railcard to the kingdom of heaven?’ A second-class single off-peak with a Senior Railcard to the kingdom of heaven. That’s what I said to the man in the booking office here in Penarth. 

‘I beg your pardon?’ he said.

Now the fact that he was a bit stumped is, I should hasten to add, not a reflection on how useful it is to have a booking office at the station, as I am sure you will know very well from listening to Mick Lynch. But if we’re on this journey to the kingdom of heaven, where is it? What sort of a place is it? 

The first thing to say is that it’s a kingdom. We’re in the United Kingdom here in Wales. I think that I am risking having some of you shoot me on the way out if I add to my Mick Lynch reference with any ‘Yes Cymru’ allusions, so I won’t. 

But is the set-up in the kingdom of heaven like that of the United Kingdom? We can look at the story of the beginning of King Solomon’s reign over the people of Israel; it may not exactly be the kingdom of heaven, but surely it might give us some pointers. Solomon chose wisdom rather than long life or riches. No big increases in the civil list for King Solomon! 

But in one important respect he was similar to our king, and that is that actually, King Solomon wasn’t the top man. King Solomon got his authority and his power from God; our king, our Monarch, gets his power from the people. He is a constitutional monarch. In these senses, neither he nor King Solomon are absolute monarchs. In both cases they look to a higher authority. But in the kingdom of heaven, the king is the king. The king is God.

Remember that originally, in the story of Israel, the prophet Samuel was pestered by the leaders of Israel to appoint for them a king. Initially he was very reluctant to do so because he thought that a king would exploit his people in all sorts of ways. 

So Solomon was a pleasant surprise, as he chose wisdom over riches, although as you will no doubt remember he wasn’t perfect; he was what used to be called a ‘ladies’ man’, having at the last count 700 wives. They are supposed to have distracted him a bit from the duties of government, somewhat unsurprisingly.

So I think we can infer that the place we are going to is run by a good king, somebody who has all the wisdom of Solomon, without his bad side. That makes sense, because we understand God to be all-powerful and all-knowing.

But have we got the right ticket? Are we going to be on the right train? Will we get to this marvellous place? It looks from Saint Paul’s letter that perhaps the train to the kingdom of heaven is something like the Orient Express, very exclusive – although of course, if it starts from Cardiff Central, it will run on the GWR, God’s Wonderful Railway.

But look what St Paul says. ‘For those whom he foreknew he also predestined… [T]hose whom he predestined he also called’. You need to be ‘predestined’. So it looks a bit as though not everybody can ride on this train. It isn’t really up to you whether you can book that kind of ticket. So is that really the case, that unless you are somehow given a golden ticket, you can’t get on the train? Is that what it means to be predestined, to be called? 

No. I don’t think it is. St Paul says, ‘We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.’ God’s covenant, God’s agreement with his people the Israelites, is based on their love for him; to love God and love your neighbour. If you love God and follow his commandments, then, St Paul says, God will choose you; you can get on the train. And it will indeed be a very special ticket. ‘If God is for us, who is against us?’ 

And who is going to decide whether God is for us and whether we will get a ticket? That is what Jesus does. St Paul says that Jesus intercedes for us, that He speaks up for us. ‘And who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?’ 

Then we will have this wonderful, blessed assurance that we are on the train. ‘I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord’.

I may have tried to buy a second-class ticket with a senior Railcard, but it looks as though actually I am in an all-first-class Pullman, on the up main line to heaven. And what’s the station for the heavenly destination like? Is it one of Brunel’s temples of steam, Paddington or Bristol Temple Meads perhaps? Or Santa Maria Novella in Florence or Zürich Hauptbahnhof or the Gare du Nord in Paris? Perhaps I’m not on a Pullman, in fact, but on the Train Bleu, headed by Pacific 231, speeding towards the Côte D’Azur. Whatever – but for sure, we are approaching a divine destination.

But you have to realise that God’s Wonderful Railway came a little bit later than Jesus; and during the time of Jesus, He wasn’t into locomotion in the way that some of us like me are today. 

When Jesus was describing what your destination would be, He offered other sorts of images, comparing it with a market garden with a mighty mustard seed, or yeast in a loaf of bread or a trader on the Silk Route dealing in pearls, or on a deep sea trawler, with a hint that in the Kingdom of Heaven only the best fish would get on to the overnight train to Billingsgate. 

Now it is just about possible that one or two of you might not immediately picture this wonderful railway, and it is possible that you might see heaven without steam locomotives or even Trains à Grand Vitesse; and I think that you will all have rumbled the fact that, just like the man in the booking office, I can’t say exactly where the kingdom of heaven is to be found, at least in the sense of pinpointing it on Google Maps or finding it in Bradshaw.

That’s true: but Graham Kendrick, the great hymn writer today, has written a hymn, or perhaps it’s more properly called a worship song, which could give you another clue. It’s called ‘Heaven is in my Heart’. One thing is for sure. 

That is that when you do get there, nothing will separate you from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.