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Sermon: Ascension of the Lord, 2013

I preached this evening in the Chapel of Merton College, Oxford. Here’s what I said:

Acts 1:1-11; Luke 24:44-end

In the name of the (+) Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit: Amen.

I wonder if any of you have been travelling recently. Well, if you haven’t had the opportunity to go yet, I would urge you to make the short hop across the Channel to a small city not far from Paris. Chartres is known principally for its majestic Cathedral, one of the masterpieces of the medieval Gothic style and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It is remarkably well-preserved, renowned for an astonishing collection of stained glass, and also for its three great facades, adorned with hundreds of sculpted figures. It has been a place of pilgrimage since at least the 12th century.

But enough of the tourist brochure blurb: I’ll get to the point. One of the portals depicts Christ standing on a cloud, supported by angels, apparently in an impression of the event we recall tonight, the Ascension. It is an amazing work, and pilgrims continue to gaze up at it today, as they have since it was first carved in around 1140. Gazing up at beautiful scenes such as this can have the effect of drawing one’s eyes still further, looking beyond the imagery towards heaven itself.

One of the reasons why Luke’s Gospel is so attractive is the way he seems to paint pictures with his words. Indeed, St Luke has been traditionally associated with painting, especially in the Orthodox tradition where he is said to have been the first icon painter. I think we can see something of the reason for this in our two readings this evening, when we remember that Luke is also the author of Acts. The two passages are remarkable for the way in which they enable us to imagine the scene and, with our mind’s eye, to gaze up at the unfolding event, much like the pilgrims at Chartres do when they encounter the scene in stone. We might smile slightly at the thought of Jesus zooming off into the clouds with the angels, but the idea of the Ascension is nonetheless one that should make us stop and stare: Jesus’ heavenward journey to his Father foreshadows our own.

Our gaze often seems to be drawn upwards in the context of worship, especially when one is blessed with the sublime surroundings in which we find ourselves here in this chapel. Worship is, of course, a central aspect of the Christian life. Indeed, this is underlined by what we have just heard. The disciple’s response to Jesus’ ascension was immediately to worship him, and then having returned to Jerusalem as they had been instructed to do, they continued this worship in the Temple. So, it’s fairly clear that Luke is trying to stress worship’s central place in our relationship with the living God. Because Jesus is no longer present to us in his physical body as he was in first century Palestine, the Church must daily renew her relationship with her Lord through prayer and the sacramental life.

Luke’s account of the ascension is slightly different in the reading from Acts that we heard first, and we should ask ourselves why this is. I would suggest that the variations between the two accounts suggest that we are not, in fact, to be too concerned about which details can be considered historically reliable, at least on a superficial level. While the gospel seems to be keen to convey a message about the importance of worship, it also, in common with the version in Acts, seems to want to stress the new way in which authority ought to be understood. We are told that the various parts of the Hebrew Scriptures – the Law, the Prophets, and the Psalms – are to be read in a new, Christian context. And because Jesus is now glorified at the Father’s right hand, he is no longer here in the same sense that the disciples had known. This means that the responsibility to continue his mission must pass to those who are left behind. This has consequences for the way in which power is exercised not just among Christians, but in the world – and this is something we learn here, alongside the disciples.

They ask Jesus when the kingdom will be restored to Israel. But this is clearly the wrong question to be asking! Jesus does not answer it, instead he tells the disciples that they will receive the power of the Holy Spirit. Then come the words that have had such massive consequences for the last two thousand years: “you will be my witnesses”. The point about being witnesses is one of the most striking similarities between the two accounts, and this suggests it’s something that Luke wants us to pay special attention to. The disciples’ work is to begin in Jerusalem, but then to spread the message far and wide. This global act of witness, of preaching “repentance and the forgiveness of sins” shows Israel, and then the world, that true authority belongs to God, and to the one who is now exalted at the right hand of the Father.

Being witnesses to this, the disciples – and their descendants down the ages, ourselves included – have been given an awesome responsibility. It is down to us to continue the work which Christ began, to model this radical reinterpretation of authority. What kind of images come to your mind when you think about calling people to repentance? Perhaps there are some of you who will think of the charismatic men and women who stand on street corners, sometimes with a sandwich board or a few placards, calling at passers-by. But not everyone is called to that sort of witness. As we see demonstrated in the continuation of the story in Acts, and as Paul also writes, “there are a variety of gifts, but the same Spirit”[1]. Each of us must attend carefully to what God is calling us to do, because each of us has been given a part of Christ’s work. St Theresa of Avila famously reminds us that

“Christ has no body now on earth but yours,

No hands but yours,

No feet but yours…

Jesus goes to prepare a place for us, as John tells us. But before we can take our places, there is work to be done. Jesus’ words to the disciples are intended just as much for us as they were for them. His refusal to answer the question about the restoration of the kingdom shows that “knowledge” is not the most important aspect of discipleship – rather, “mission” has displaced it – just as the rule of God over human hearts has displaced the authority of the kingdoms of this world.

So, we need to get out there. But we ought to pause for a moment and consider that in liturgical terms, we have not yet had Pentecost. We are in that period of time where we ourselves must remain in Jerusalem. We know that what was promised by the Father will come, just as we know that every Good Friday leads to an Easter morning. Here is a suggestion to help you enter into this final act of the Easter drama: over the next few days, try to imagine what it was like for those first disciples, waiting for the promise to be fulfilled, yet filled with great joy and full of praise and blessing for God. We who have been given a share in the mission of Christ, and who have received the gift of the Holy Spirit (as some of you may have seen powerfully at last week’s baptism and confirmation service) must seek to grow in faith each day. This doesn’t mean locking yourself in your room for the next nine days, but you might like to spend at least some of each day in prayer especially for the gift of the Holy Spirit, to strengthen you for your part as a “witness of these things”. This nine-day period, or “novena”, of prayer has been kept by Christians down the centuries, and so entering into it means keeping this tradition of worship and prayer alive – surely another part of our responsibility as successors of the disciples.

So, it’s essential to spend regular time in worship. The “beauty of holiness” that we see around us here, and which so inspired the masons of Chartres, is vital for living a healthy Christian life. It prompts us to lift our hearts and minds to God, as we encounter him in Word and Sacrament. But however much we may long to, we cannot keep our gaze completely heavenward: we must also be about the Lord’s work, secure in the knowledge that our lives are shaped and guided by the Holy Spirit, and that we are under the Lord’s authority. As St Theresa concludes:

Yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion is to look out to the earth,

Yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good

And yours are the hands by which he is to bless us now”

Let us pray that Jesus, when he comes again, will find us watching, waiting, and witnessing to his authority as our exalted Lord.

[1] 1Cor.12:4

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The wisdom of Austin Farrer

I have been re-reading Austin Farrer’s sermons this Holy Week. Last night, I came to one preached at the first Mass of a priest at Holy Trinity, Northwood, and which has become perhaps one of the best-known “purple passages” of Farrer’s, and arguably remains (alongside Michael Ramsey’s The Christian Priest Today) one of the most significant reflections on Christian Priesthood of the modern age. There have been many more recent books on ministry, and I have been lucky enough to have had time to read a good selection of these in recent months as I prepare for ordination. Some more recent works, such as Michael Sadgrove’s excellent Wisdom and Ministry, offer very valuable new perspectives on what it means to be ordained, and I have drawn much inspiration from them. I suspect that with the passage of time, some of these will also be considered classics in the way that Farrer and Ramsey are today. Yet there is something to be said for words which have stood the test of time. These words of Farrer’s speak as relevantly to us of what a priest is today as they did when they were first preached:

Apples don’t drop from the sky, they grow on apple trees. And sacraments don’t hurtle down here and there like lightning from heaven: they grow on the great branching tree of the Apostles’ ministry…into which tree, by virtue of his ordination, every new priest is grafted.

So then, a priest is a living stem, bearing sacraments as its fruits: he gives you the body and blood of Christ; he gives you, if you faithfully confess before him, Christ’s own absolution. And that’s not all; the man who bears the Sacrament is sacramental himself; he is, one might almost say, himself a walking sacrament…Just exactly what a priest is, you can see best in the Holy Eucharist. In a great part of that holy action he is, of course, no more than the voice of the congregation…But there is a moment when the priest steps into the place of Christ himself, to do what Christ did, to bless and to break, to present the mysterious sacrifice before God Almighty…

These moments, certainly, are exceptional in the activity of a priest; exceptional, but still not disconnected with his whole life or character. The man who is as Christ in the Sacrament is not just like anyone else ever: he bears the stamp…in him Christ sets up the standard of his Kingdom and calls us to the colours.

It is just this fact that shows up the priesthood so terribly, and makes us, and them too, so painfully aware of their deficiencies…Anyone may be a better Christian than the priest, more holy of life, more deeply versed in prayer. But the priest has a special obligation to lead a devout life, to study divinity, to pray; and so to be fit to give some help to his fellow-Christians in these supremely important concerns…

…None of us [Christians] can be let off being Christ in our place and our station: we are all pygmies in giants’ armour…it’s the price (how small a price!) paid for the supreme mercy of God, that he does not wait for our dignity or our perfection, but just puts himself there in our midst; in this bread and this wine, in this priest, in this Christian man, woman, or child.

He who gave himself up to us first as an infant, crying in a cot, he who was hung up naked on the wood, does not stand on his own dignity.

Words which are both challenging and comforting, and certainly a model of priesthood which I think has stood the test of time.

(Quotations from Walking Sacraments, in Houlden, L (1991). Austin Farrer: The Essential Sermons. London: SPCK)

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St Cuthbert’s Day 2013

(Photo: St Cuthbert’s tomb, by @kateboardman)

 

O Cuthbert, the great and admirable warrior
who shineth forth with thy many merits:
now the Lord shineth through thee in thine eternal reward,
for thou crushest the fires of the flesh.
With thy heart didst thou scorn all passing things in thy duty and love for Christ,
and in thy labour didst not scorn the Lord’s commandments,
for in thy generosity and eagerness thou didst flow with the Light of Christ,
opening an everlasting stream of grace where none had been found before.
O thou, who broughtest forth an abundant harvest in rocky earth,
do thou ever pray to the Thrice-Holy Lord that our souls may be saved.

(Kontakion I from the Akathist to St Cuthbert of Lindisfarne (h/t Russian Orthodox Church outside Russia, Diocese of Gt Britain and Ireland http://orthodoxengland.org.uk/akacuthbert.htm)

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Today is St Cuthbert’s Day. Being a Durham ordinand, and having the Cathedral as my sending church, means that Cuthbert has a special place in my heart. It was hard not to take for granted the fact that for many years we had worshipped in Cuthbert’s shrine, just as successive generations had done for over 900 years. On our final Sunday in the Cathedral we went to say “goodbye” to Cuthbert in the Feretory – and to Bede (who, being commemorated on my birthday, is also a significant figure to me). Today I’m very much aware of the fact that I will not be ordained in the place which for many years had been called “home”. I am very excited to be heading to Ilkley, and am looking forward to my ordination in Bradford Cathedral and to all that the next few years may bring. But there is a part of me which will forever belong to Durham, and at Cuthbert-tide this is especially clear.

Holy Father Cuthbert of Lindisfarne, pray to God for us!

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100 days to go

Today marks the 100-day point before the leavers’ service at College. This feels the right time to engage in a spot of housekeeping. The observant among you may have noticed that I have updated the title image at the top of the blog, and adjusted the template to the latest version. The name will also be changing shortly: it hasn’t seemed quite right for a while, but as we pass this milestone before the end of my residential training, it seems as good a time as any to make some changes. This is perhaps especially important given that I’m not returning to Durham.

Yesterday was the vestments fair at College, which has also concentrated my mind on what lies ahead. It was a good “reality check” to be confronted with the various things which I will need to acquire for life in the parish. Mundane as they may seem, clerical shirts and the like are necessary items and the time has come to invest. This is proving a rather unsettling realisation: I have not really spent much time thinking about the practicalities until now. There’s still time, but decisions do need to start being made now. The next few days or weeks will hopefully involve visits to a couple of clerical outfitters to discuss stoles and the like.

It really feels like the beginning of the end of college life.

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A bit of news

Please pray for Fr. Philip Gray and the people of the parish of St Margaret’s, Ilkley, where (God-willing) I am to serve as Assistant Curate.

I’m really excited to be able to announce this at last: there’s been a lot of patient waiting for the various processes to work out. There is still quite a bit of waiting to do, and details such as housing, schools for the children, and so on have to be worked out.

Assuming all goes according to plan, I will be ordained deacon by the Bishop of Bradford on Sunday 30th June, in Bradford Cathedral. Ordination day feels like a long way off, with many “firm expectations” between now and then: but it also feels much more as though the end of our sojourn in Oxfordshire is in sight. The more observant among you will have noticed that Ilkley is in Bradford Diocese, and not Durham. I do feel some sadness at not returning to be ordained in Durham Cathedral – my sending church. I owe a great deal to the Diocese and Cathedral, and we have many happy family memories of the North East. However, there is a very strong sense of rightness about the coming move to Wharfedale.

There are now 131 days until the leavers’ service, and much to do in the mean time. Best get on with it, really.

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Reflection at Morning Prayer, 18th January 2013

First day of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity

What do we mean by Christian unity? Between now and next Friday, you might stop to reflect on this. Perhaps your placement church might take part in a pulpit exchange this Sunday. There may even be a joint service with other denominations. Such events are to be welcomed: they are signs of our seeking to work together, at least on some level. Yet though one must be optimistic, I suspect there will be little progress towards genuine, permanent, visible unity between Christian churches this week. The brokenness that we display, particularly when our divisions are played out in the public sphere, is hardly our most attractive asset. This can be a source of embarrassment and disappointment: schism often seems intractable.

Yet there is cause for hope – and it may be found in the mystical union with Christ which we share in baptism. “By the one spirit we are baptised into one body“. John Henry Newman points out that no group of individuals can simply set up a church for themselves:

“…all must receive their baptism from Christians already baptised, and they in their turn must have received the sacrament from former Christians, themselves already incorporated into a body then previously existing. And thus we trace back a visible body or society even to the very time of the Apostles themselves; and it becomes plain that there can be no Christian in the whole world who has not received his title to the Christian privileges from the original apostolical society. So that the very sacrament of baptism, as prescribed by our Lord and his apostles, implies the existence of one visible association of Christians, and only one; and that permanent, carried on by the succession of Christians from the time of the apostles to the very end of the world”.

Baptism unites all Christians, in communion with Holy Mother Church throughout the ages, to Christ, our one foundation. This week, let us reflect on what genuine unity might look like, doing what we can to build up our common life in response to Christ’s prayer “that they may all be one”.