Archives for posts with tag: ancient Greeks

Sermon – St David’s Day 2026

John 3.1-17

I suppose that I ought to start by telling you what I am not going to talk about. I’m not going to talk about the Gorton and Denton by-election and I’m not going to talk about the safeguarding scandal involving the former Bishop of Swansea.

The only thing that I would say about both of those things is that they both illustrate the need for us, and the need especially in Lent, to reflect on our Christian faith and to try to apply it to difficult questions that we come across in our lives. For that purpose I want to look at our reading from chapter 3 of St John’s gospel. It’s the bit which contains the verse which is supposed to be the best known verse in the whole of the New Testament, verse 16, ‘For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.’ I suppose that sums up Christianity in one sentence. You could spend weeks and weeks teasing out every little bit of meaning from it. But don’t worry – I’m only going to look at one or two of the things come out of this and perhaps bear on our lives today.

The context is the story of Nicodemus. I rather like Nicodemus. I think he’s one of my heroes, a bit like doubting Thomas. I like the way people like him meet Jesus and don’t quite get it right.

Actually when I went to Oberammergau in 2010 for the Passion Play I discovered that in the script which has been used for the Play, pretty well unchanged, since 1600, Nicodemus takes quite a big part and he is a bit of a hero.

Although he seems not to get it completely right in this passage in the Bible, in the story in the Passion Play he becomes an advocate for Jesus in the discussions in the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Council, which is what I think is meant by him being described as a ‘leader of the Jews’, and indeed Jesus referred to him as a ‘teacher of Israel’, although he says that although Nicodemus is a teacher, he still doesn’t get it.

In the Passion Play he’s obviously learned from his encounter with Jesus and he speaks up for him, but unfortunately to no avail. Here Nicodemus questions Jesus in a way that I think that any of us might have done. Jesus answers, rather mysteriously, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ I have to share with you that that’s not necessarily an agreed translation. If you read it in the New English Bible, for example, it says, “…unless a man has been born ‘over again’”, not born ‘from above’. The same word in Greek can have both meanings, so neither translation is necessarily wrong. It does look as though Nicodemus takes it as meaning born ‘over again’ – and he obviously started something, because you’ve certainly heard of the expression a ‘born-again Christian’. Nicodemus is clearly thinking about being born ‘again’ because he then asks how he can literally go back into his mother’s womb and start again.

So Jesus talks about being born from water and the spirit, which is usually interpreted to mean being baptised, somehow washing away the old sinful self and being filled with the spirit of God. We do see instances in the New Testament where Jesus or Saint Paul, talking about Jesus, where they talk about a distinction between body and spirit. Incidentally, the word for ‘spirit’ both in the Hebrew of the Old Testament and the Greek of the New Testament can also mean ‘wind’, and that’s perhaps why these days we tend to refer to the Holy Spirit rather than the Holy Ghost, because a ‘spirit’ is literally something breathed, like a wind or a breeze, and that definitely comes into what Jesus is talking about here. Here the version of the Bible which we are reading today doesn’t really hang together very well, because it has Jesus saying, “Don’t be astonished that I said to you, ‘You must be born again, from above’” and then goes on to talk about the wind – in the King James Bible, ‘the wind bloweth where it listeth’. You will recall in Romans chapter 8, St Paul makes a big distinction between body and spirit, and then in his first letter to the Corinthians chapter 15 St Paul argues that eternal life, life after death, consists in being born again spiritually.

It would have been a familiar way of thinking to people in the ancient world, because many Greek philosophers, notably Plato, believed in what is sometimes referred to as mind-body dualism. If we refer that back to the first thing that we were not going to talk about, the result of the by-election in Manchester, I think the challenge for us as Christians is, what do we think about the non-spiritual side, the social side, of people who are not as well off as ourselves, who are in need? What do we think about how best to arrange society?

Do we have a Christian outlook on that question or is it something where we say, ‘No, that’s politics; we are concerned with spiritual things.’ Are we saying, effectively, that that is simply a concern of the body as opposed to the spirit, and is Jesus making that distinction too?

It’s 40 years this year since the publication of the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Commission on Urban Priority Areas, as it was called, better known as Faith in the City.

There is an interesting discussion in there, a chapter under the heading ‘Theological Priorities’ and in that chapter it says, “The question at issue is whether the acknowledged Christian duty to ‘remember the poor’ should be confined to personal charity, service and evangelism directed towards individuals, or whether it can legitimately take the form of social and political action aimed at altering the circumstances which appear to cause poverty and distress.”

The report goes on to trace the history of both sides, spiritual, inward-looking religion addressing personal salvation, and social, political action: and it says that Christians should be involved in both.

It points out that this is in line with most of the history of the church. Fairly soon after the death of Jesus, obviously there was conflict with the Romans, when the Christians refused to worship the emperor as a god, and then down the ages there have been important pieces of social action, for example the Victorian campaign against slavery, inspired by Christian belief.

Perhaps the result of the by-election in Manchester was to some extent influenced by a desire to look for a more idealistic solution, reducing the gap between between rich and poor and welcoming the stranger. Some of the things that Mr. Polanski was saying have come from his Jewish background, where he referenced compassionate teachings from the Jewish law, which Jesus himself endorsed. So that’s the first thing that I am not talking about.

And then the second thing, which is much more difficult, is the scandal of the former Bishop of Swansea. Maybe the only thing we can say about it, say, if we were to try to imagine what Jesus would say about it, and perhaps if we read on in chapter 3 of St John’s Gospel, is that there is a very clear indication from Jesus at verse 19. He said, ‘Here lies the test: the light has come into the world, but men prefer darkness to light because their deeds were evil. Bad men all hate the light and avoid it, for fear their practices should be shown up. The honest man comes to the light so that it may be clearly seen that God is in all he does.’ There must never be cover-ups, and the best way to avoid terrible abuses in future is for our safeguarding always to involve complete openness. We should always be open to have the light shone on everything we do.

You may say, having heard what I’ve just been talking about, that I have in fact failed to mention another very important thing today, and that is that it is Saint David’s day. I have to share with you that in the Church in Wales’ lectionary, Saint David’s day is, as they put it, ‘transferred’ to tomorrow because it would otherwise fall on a Sunday in Lent; it is a transferrable feast, if you’ve come across those, and here it’s because you are not allowed to celebrate a saint at the same time as you are having one of the Sundays in Lent – and anyway, Sundays are actually not counted as one of the 40 penitential days. Anyway that’s all far too technical for me, and I would just mention that it is Saint David’s day and we are allowed to feel good about being Welsh or being in Wales, as I am. I should tell you that my dearly beloved Mrs, Kenny, exclaimed to me, as we were crossing the Prince of Wales Bridge from Bristol for the first time together, ‘We are in a different country now!’ Well, it’s something to celebrate, I’m absolutely sure, and I’ve had a very happy five years here in Wales. Long may it continue.

Hugh D Bryant

Sermon for Evensong on the Tenth Sunday after Trinity, 5th August 2018

Psalm 88, Job 28, Hebrews 11:17-31

I’m going to cheat, ever so slightly, tonight: because the text that I want to talk about isn’t actually part of either of our lessons this evening. But it does come in the Book of Job, a bit earlier than our first lesson, which was from chapter 28. This quotation is from chapter 19: and it is

‘For I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth’.

You can probably hear it, as one of the arias, ‘airs’, as he called them, in Handel’s ‘Messiah’. I know that my redeemer liveth. It does lead into our two lessons, which are about different ways of knowing things.

The first lesson, from the Book of Job, is all about wisdom; the value of wisdom, how difficult it is to come by, but how important it is: and the second lesson, from Hebrews, is all about faith; trusting that something is the case, believing in something. Hebrews tells how faith can make you a hero, and how the various stars of the history of the Israelites had faith in things, and did remarkable deeds as a result.

Let’s look first at wisdom. What does it mean to be wise? This has connotations of good judgement, discernment and fair-mindedness. I think these days that we often tend to concentrate not on what would be wise in certain circumstances, but rather, on what would not be wise. You know: we tend to say, for instance, ‘If I need to go home from here, I could go in the golf buggy. But it wouldn’t be wise.’

The idea of wisdom is that it’s the sort of knowledge which leads to a successful outcome. Knowing what is likely to turn out well, and having the good judgement to choose that course of action rather than anything else.

Another thing that wisdom is bound up with is understanding. If you understand something properly, then probably you will deal with that thing better, more effectively, more correctly. In the Book of Job, Job has three dialogues with his so-called ‘comforters’, his friends, Eliphaz, Bildad and Zophar, candid friends who hold up a mirror to him, he having suffered unjustly. He’s not done anything wrong, but terrible things have happened to him. They try to help him to understand what has happened to him. For some reason God has caused it.

One thing that’s different between the world of Job and our world today is that we don’t tend to look for a divine cause for everything that happens. Obviously, as Christians, we believe that God is the ultimate creator and sustainer of our life. But I’m not sure that we would see Him at work taking sides, if you like, lifting up some people and casting down others. I think these days we tend not to think of God in that way, because it tends to lead you into the possibility that God is not a good and loving god, but that He may in certain circumstances be a vengeful and cruel god.

I think we tend to say that things just happen; perhaps, tying them a little bit to somebody’s conduct: ‘If we carry on polluting the atmosphere, then global warming will happen much more quickly’, say. Of course, if you were in an Old Testament frame of mind, you could cast that discussion in terms of breaking the Covenant to look after God’s creation on our part, and God inflicting punishment accordingly.

But I’m inclined to think that’s not a common view these days, even among people who do think about God and believe in Him, because in a way it makes God out to be not necessarily a loving god. And it’s interesting to see how Job thought of wisdom in this context.

‘… the fear of the Lord, that is wisdom; and to depart from evil is understanding.’

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart.., and so on, is, I suppose, what ‘the fear of the Lord’ means – although it’s odd that it should be fear and not love. Maybe a better word would be ‘respect’. You can have loving respect for God.

I think that’s pretty good, even in the court of the philosophers. What is it, to be wise? It’s not something you can just acquire, as the lesson says. And it’s not something you can buy, or learn, like riding a bike. There has to be some sort of guarantor, that what we think may be true, is true. That could be God.

The point about having God in the background, underpinning our knowledge and understanding, is that otherwise, we might never agree on what is wise. What is it, to know that something is a good idea? It might be a good idea for me; but it might not be a good idea for you.

In Handel’s ‘Messiah’, that line from Job, ‘I know that my Redeemer liveth’, actually points to the Messiah, the Saviour of Israel, to Jesus. The air goes on, ‘For now is Christ risen, the first fruits of them that sleep.’ Händel’s librettist Charles Jennens quoted 1 Corinthians 15:20 as well as the Book of Job.

But in the context of Job himself, another way of putting what he says is, ‘I know that my vindicator lives’. He has been unjustly condemned. Poor old Job is suffering all sorts of indignities, trials and torments. And he has done nothing to deserve it. So what he really needs is somebody to speak up for him in a persuasive way, an advocate, a ‘vindicator’: somebody who can prove that he is not a guilty party: somebody to show everyone what the true position is.

But here’s the problem. It’s not necessarily the case that we will all agree about things that we say we ‘know’. I might say that I know that something or other is a good thing. But that doesn’t necessarily make it a good thing – and you might disagree with me. We sort-of think that, if you say you know something, if I know that such-and-such is the case, then it must be true. Really? Well, just saying it tells you that that’s not necessarily right.

Maybe faith can add another angle on this. This whole topic is what’s called epistemology, the philosophy of understanding, what it is to understand something, what it is to know something, what it is to perceive something. And faith is in this area. In the Letter to the Hebrews, you find this wonderful catalogue of heroes in Bible history, doing heroic things because of their faith. By faith they did such-and-such. I think we’re meant to distinguish faith from knowledge – although that may not actually be a real distinction.

At the beginning of chapter 11 of the Letter to the Hebrews, there’s a definition of faith. ‘Faith gives substance to our hopes and makes us certain of realities we do not see’, (NEB), or ‘faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen’, according to the King James version.

I’ve been beginning to think about how I’m going to explain God and Jesus and the Holy Spirit to my little grandson Jim. Jim is 19 months old, so his capacity for philosophical reasoning is probably a bit limited, at least for now. But I think it’s a good thing for me to start thinking about how I will be able to explain these things in terms that Jim can understand.

So much of our understanding of God, so much of our religion, involves things we cannot see. In some ways it would be very handy if, in the same ways as with the ancient Greeks, our God periodically came down from heaven and appeared among us: and of course 2,000 years ago, that’s exactly what happened. But these days we are challenged by how to explain that we believe in something, we trust something to be true, that we can’t see and we can’t prove the existence of – at least in the same way as we could prove whether I’m wearing pink socks.

It’s not just religious things: there are a lot of things where in order for our lives to just carry on normally, we need to have faith. I have faith that I will get up next morning and that there’ll be another day. But there’s no way I can prove it. Anything involving the future involves faith. If I turn the ignition key of my car, I have faith that it will start up and go. But I don’t know.

There are some similarities with what Job was talking about. He was praising the idea of wisdom. It was a gift beyond price, unable to be found anywhere specific. If you had wisdom, then you would make fewer mistakes. You would be able to discern the right thing to do.

But if you have faith, it takes it on a further stage. If you believe and trust in something or in someone, depending on how inspiring that figure is, how compelling they are, you will be inspired, you will be able to rise to the highest challenges. Just as with wisdom; you won’t be able to prove it, but it will be real for you. If you have faith that something is the case, then for you, that is reality.

But there is an extra factor in this, both where wisdom is concerned, and also with faith. And that is, that it isn’t just a question that if I do the right thing, it will make me more successful; or if I have complete faith in, say, a particular diet, then I will achieve spectacular weight loss – well, actually , there may be better examples that you can think of – but the idea, the point, is that wisdom and faith, in this context at least, involve something extra, someone extra: they involve God.

In Job’s world, the fear of the Lord is wisdom, and in the context of the Letter to the Hebrews, in the light of Jesus, faith makes it possible for us to be heroes, to do things which by ourselves we would never be able to do.

I know that my Redeemer liveth.

I know it. It’s wise to believe it. I do believe it. I have faith.