Ss Peter & Paul, Kettering
Don’t look sad
Imagine, just for a moment, that you are going along in a car. On one side of you is a big drop. On the other side is an elephant. In front of you is a fire engine, and behind you is a police car with a flashing blue light. And just imagine, just for a second, what God is saying to you in such a situation....
Cleopas and his friend, were in a different situation of course. Not for them the luxury of covering the seven miles out to Emmaus in a car - a full afternoon’s walk, and probably in the full gaze of a middle eastern sun. And, on top of all that they weren’t exactly in a good frame of mind. Indeed, when someone came alongside them - someone whom they had a problem recognizing - we are told that they stood still, looking sad.
These two followers of Jesus - these people ‘of the way’ - these disciples. They stood still, looked sad, and they began to talk about Jesus. It wasn’t a great beginning, really - standing still and looking sad - and it didn’t really get much better, for when Jesus asks them what things they are talking about, off they go:
‘The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see Jesus.’
It’s hard to know where to start, really. They misunderstand Jesus - they think he is or was simply a prophet. Then it turns out they wanted him to be a political or military figure - the one to redeem Israel, as they put it. And then they recount stories of the empty tomb, and a vision of angels, from a perspective that cries out not just disbelief, but almost scorn for the women of our group. And it ends up with them lamenting that at the end of it all, they did not see Jesus. One of the many unique things about this remarkable story from Luke is that it is, I think, the only time Jesus loses his patience with his friends - but is it any wonder, after all that, he remarks, Oh how foolish you are... how slow of heart....
Cleopas and his mate - they wanted Jesus to be something he wasn’t, and they wanted him to do something he wasn’t going to do. They are scornful about the visit to the tomb made by Mary Magdalene and the other women. It’s a pretty impressive package of "Things to get wrong on a Sunday afternoon" - oh yes, and the person to whom they come out with all of this merely happens to be Jesus himself, who, incredibly, they fail to recognize (at least at this point). And, on top of it, they stand still and look sad....
They might as well be in that car with the big drop on one side, and the elephant on the other. They might as well have a fire engine in front of them, and the police car complete with blue flashing light behind them. I wonder if they would work out then what God was saying to them. And if it was you in that situation, have you worked out yet what God would be saying to you?
This is, I am sure you will understand, a rather odd Sunday for me. It is almost exactly five years since Alison and I moved here and I became your parish priest. And what a lot has happened in between. Quite aside of the joy and wonder of the arrival of Benedict, we have had the chance to get to know so many of you - some of whom were worshipping here before we arrived (well before in not a few cases!), and others of whom have joined our parish family in the years that have rolled by. And we’ve been on quite an interesting journey together, I hope you will feel - a journey in which, I hope, we have tried to go where God has been calling us, following our risen saviour and friend as faithfully as we can manage.
And during those five years, you have become a major part of my life. This is my first incumbency, and these five years have been incredibly special, and I cannot thank any and all of you enough for all that being here has meant for me and all that being here has given me. And suddenly (and it does feel sudden, as I have been working full tilt and beyond right up to this minute), suddenly, I’m not going to see any of you for quite some while. With the exception of three weeks in June around the Flower Festival, I am basically not around from today until the start of August.
It will whizz by, of course, and before I or you know it, I’ll be back at the helm. But, just now, you’ll understand that it is, actually, rather daunting, and, inevitably, it makes me just a little thoughtful about the past, and, more importantly, the future...
At a service a few weeks ago, we had a visitor who doesn’t normally worship with us, but who used to come to this church some years ago, remarked to one of the churchwardens what an enormous amount had changed since her previous visit. And I guess that a number of things have changed since I have been your incumbent: we’ve pulled the altar out, so that we, clergy, face you when we preside; indeed, when we have Parade services, we’ve brought the altar right down here, so that nobody is visually excluded from the liturgy; we have consigned ‘historic’ liturgical language (‘thees’ and ‘thous’) to history, and worship using modern language; we’ve moved from being a parish that, 14 years ago, would hardly have allowed a woman priest in the building, to being a parish that is used to celebrating with a woman presiding, and which would no longer bar the way to the next Rector being a woman.
And, whatever any individual person’s view about any one (or more) of those issues, there has been no doubt that each and every one has been demonstrably the will of the vast majority of the PCC, and reflected accurately the direction and nature of the journey that we, as an entire church community, have taken together. And, as your incumbent, it is certainly my belief that this is a process that has happened prayerfully and, at times, courageously, and that in these things and many, many others, we have sought to follow Jesus faithfully as he makes as if to go on (which he always does), and we have continued to gather and to recognize him, week by week, in the breaking of the bread.
And none of that, in fact, will or should ever change. For Jesus is full of challenges for us, and for the entire Body of Christ, as he calls us on to work out afresh generation by generation how best we can share in His mission to His world. And we need to make sure, constantly to make sure, that we get it right - that we allow Jesus to be Jesus, and to challenge our ideas and our behaviour, just as he challenged the ideas of those two people who had the nerve to stand still, look sad, and talk - so very wrongly - talk about Jesus.
Because they really got it wrong. As I said just now, they try and make Jesus what they want him to be, and they pour incredulity on the idea of his resurrection, and they have the nerve (let alone the stupidity) to say it all to his very face. And sometimes we get it wrong, and we try and make Jesus or His church our own - we try and do things the way we want, and we ignore him, manifest in the Body of Christ. It’s only a small thing in some ways, but those on the PCC with a particular charge for thinking about how we make sure we welcome people into the church as best as we possibly can have been taking advice about good practice, and we have been making some changes to how we ‘do’ welcome on a Sunday morning. We’ve got a lot better than we used to be in the time I’ve been your incumbent, but there is always room for improvement.
That little project ought to be a cause for rejoicing; it ought to be a cause to saying ‘thank you’ for those who have taken the principal lead in overseeing this important aspect of our church life and identity. Sadly, it is plain to me that that has not entirely been the case, with some conversations being remarkably negative. And I was particularly sad to have quoted at me one person - one welcomer - who was asked, I think, to exercise this ministry on a Parade Sunday, and who apparently said (and they chose their words with precision and care) that they hated the celebrations on Parade Sunday, and that they boycotted them. That saddened and worried me; it is a worry to hear a confessing Christian use the word hate about anyone or anything. To hear it used about the occasion when Jesus draws close to us and makes him known to us in the Breaking of Bread in the heart of the community - that is profoundly sad and worrying, for it is rude to Christ and to Christ’s Body. Perhaps all the more so if, as I suspect, the possibility of receiving Communion at the earlier celebration at 7.45 is overlooked or ignored.
For one of the many points contained in this extraordinary resurrection story is that it is only in the Breaking of the Bread that we have the chance to recognize Jesus. And, moreover, we come to church to celebrate together the Holy Eucharist not because we are in the mood for it, or we like the hymns, or we can put up with the vicar - we come because Jesus himself instituted the Eucharist, and told us to do it. He’s not, actually, interested in our particular taste in or opinion of it - he just said Do this in remembrance of me.
And so we face the constant challenge of prayer and discernment, both as individuals and as the community that collectively calls itself the Body of Christ, to ensure that we do not emulate the behaviour of Cleopas and that other disciple. We have to make sure that we do not sink to their level and try and make Jesus and His Church simply what we want him or them to be. We have to make sure that our behaviour, our words, our actions do not diminish or make irrelevant the stunning truth of the resurrection. And we have to make sure that, unlike that hapless pair, we do not have the nerve simply to stand still and look sad when we talk about Jesus.
Change will continue, both under my incumbency when I return from my brief period away, and change will continue into the future when I am long gone. Certainly, when I get back, we will be starting a process of thinking very prayerfully and carefully indeed about what a church building should be, in order to serve its community faithfully and fully, and that will, in all probability, lead after a while, to some important changes in the layout of this glorious building, possibly as drastic as those our forebears undertook in 1892.
For change will and must continue as the Church of God, locally and globally, seeks to be ever more faithful to Him who called it into being. The church is a human, broken, sinful and fallible institution, that, in each era, needs to ensure that it doesn’t lose sight of its risen Lord, who constantly makes to go on.
So - there you are, going along in a car. On one side of you is a big drop. On the other side is an elephant. In front of you is a fire engine, and behind you is a police car with a flashing blue light. And just imagine, just for a second, what God is saying to you in such a situation....
Don’t work too hard at it. What God’s saying is "Get off the kiddies’ ride and grow up! There’s work to be done." For that, in essence, was what Jesus found himself having to say to Cleopas and the other disciple - and sometimes he has to say it to you and me.
For we are called to be a community that does not stand still and speak about Jesus with sadness, we are the community that is called to move forward and speak with joy about Him. And that means we do, indeed, need to get off the comfort of the child’s toy car on the merry-go-round, and walk with him on the dusty road, as he makes to go, onwards, ever onwards, into God’s glorious and unexpected future. Amen.
Dominic Barrington, April 6th, 2008
Office Address:
The Rectory
Church Walk
Kettering
NN16 0DJ