Sermon: Cathedral Eucharist Last after Trinity

Preacher:

Date:

Sunday 27th October 2013

Service:

Cathedral Eucharist

Readings:

1 Timothy 4: 6-8, 16-18

Luke 18: 9-14

Listen:

Download Recording (MP3, 15.7M)

Oscar Wilde’s story The Selfish Giant describes a garden of immense beauty, fecundity and joy.  The giant excludes children his garden. His selfishness is destructive. The world freezes over in a perpetual winter. Yet the children find a way of returning. They bring new life, fruit and goodness. The giant realises the cost of his selfishness and sees the wounds of love.  He is changed; his world is renewed.

Such memorable stories shape us: holding up a mirror to what is, opening a vista of what might be.  Stories seldom end at “the end”; they make us think afresh.  Jesus often spoke in pithy stories which might shock or inspire us as we literally chew on them, as today’s collect reminds us.

Today we hear that he told this parable to some who trusted in themselves that they were righteous and regarded others with contempt.

He spoke this uncomfortable parable to us.

Jesus paints a vivid picture and the challenge is stark: where do we place our trust? Is it in our status, our achievements, our relationships or our self-sufficiency?  Or do we trust in God? Our answer to that question shapes how we see others.

Some trusted in themselves; they regarded others with contempt.

In challenging us on trust, Jesus confronts us with the comparisons we make; our judgements about others and our responses to them.  Suspend judgement; imagine yourself alongside the Pharisee and tax collector.  See in them the complexity of our human predicament; allow that recognition to draws us more deeply into this parable.

It might hold up a mirror to us.  It is uncomfortable but liberating for it reveals the extent of God’s grace.

The Pharisee is praying by himself, or even to himself.  His words are self referential – telling God how good he is; convincing himself, perhaps, of his own righteousness.  His confident posturing attracts attention; yet he is standing alone.

He doesn’t trust God; he relies on his self-discipline.  He isn’t just ticking boxes he is adding more to the list.  He fasts twice a week, every week; he tithes his income. He doesn’t want there to be any doubt about his being right with God. If he is so sure, why does he plead and justify and announce in public his good works? 

There is doubt in his mind about whether it is enough. He is not placing his trust in God.

The tax collector stands afar off.  He is praying by himself. He cannot even bring himself to look up; he beats his chest.  If the Pharisee’s words were an expression of self-reliance, the tax collector’s posture and gesture express his utter dependence on God.

He trusts God; there is no self-reliance.  He looks at himself honestly: his relationships, the pressures of his work, his collusion with systems that oppress or exploit others; the moments of impatience or ingratitude; the petty betrayals. God be merciful to me, he says, a sinner.

There is no doubt in his mind about the depth of his distress; of his human propensity, to modify Francis Spufford’s memorable phrase, screw things up. Out of that recognition he seeks mercy. He knows he cannot earn it.  There is no doubt in his mind that God is merciful; he leaves forgiven.

Trust and righteousness; sin and mercy. 

God’s holiness touches our frailty: and that is the point of radical reversal; the point of transformation.

The exalted will be humbled; the humble will be exalted.

This isn’t a magic formula or another box to tick; rather it is a risky way of living. It is an invitation to set aside all our attempts to justify ourselves. Our self-assurance, or our longing for it, is manifested in what we own, what we aspire to, who we associate with.  The challenge is to centre ourselves on God’s love of us – absolutely as we are.

In every relationship we form we take a risk: do we reveal too much or too little? Are we too remote and self-reliant or too anxious and self-critical?  Will we be taken seriously or dismissed?  Will it be held against us or will it build up trust?

Yet before God there is no fear.  Our vulnerability is met by God in who he is.  In the risk of creating us with freedom, imagination, energy and desire; in the risk of taking on our humanity to the point of death to redeem us; in the risk of continuing to sustain us by the Spirit’s power that new life is made a present reality as well as a future hope.

Our vulnerability is met by such love as this.

Being met in that place changes how we see ourselves; it changes how we present ourselves to others and how we respond to them.

Pride and contempt give way to glimpses of hope.  Mercy and righteousness help us to build relationships on a presumption of trust; it enables us to delight in the gifts of others.  Rather than looking sideways in contempt, we are to risk being a little more patient, perhaps.  And we will fail; and we try again.  Our human capacity to grow in trust and mutual affection flows from putting trust in God at the centre. 

In worship we a nudged out of a place of self-absorption. Here we can be fully attentive to God – to the hope, mercy, forgiveness and love he extends to us.  Think about the messages we receive in our familiar liturgy: pardon, peace, draw near, love and serve. 

Here the fragments of our lives and work are gathered up; here we cease to be individuals standing afar off.  We are invited to stand or kneel side by side; attending to all that we are to each other. We extend our hands as God’s holy people to receive God’s holy gifts.  His holiness refines us and builds up our moral density.  Here our failures and betrayals are overcome giving us a renewed sense of calling; here our acts of compassion and generosity are acknowledged as signs of God’s Kingdom.  The Eucharist is a place of renewal in our discipleship, as we walk with Christ.

Paul gives us some sense of the substance of that pattern of life as he faces his own death.  Since his conversion he has offered his life to God:  money, time, physical energy and intellectual endeavours; his concern for others and the work of the church.  He remained committed in the face of disappointments and his own temperamental flaws.  His human expression of faith relies on God’s faithfulness. 

I have fought the good fight; I have completed the race; I have kept the faith.

God is the source of Paul’s strength; he glorifies his name knowing he will judge with righteousness. His life is poured out as a libation for others.  That’s his encouragement to Timothy: not personal reward or legacy, but the inheritance of the faithful, the hope of the Kingdom. A Kingdom we are called to seek day by day.

That is why the vision of this place matters: the kind of community we build; the depth of conversation we facilitate; the hospitality and welcome we offer, to all.

As we come to know God as the source of righteousness, we see ourselves differently – becoming less self-confident and more assured of God’s grace and mercy.  We are then compelled to engage with the world, to look on others differently; that also changes and humbles us.  It allows grace to become manifest. 

Clio Barnard’s adaption of The Selfish Giant is a film which remains true to the spirit of the story: it captures the sorrow, suffering and aspiration of the world in which we live.  In a deprived Bradford estate there is unemployment, competition, and contempt; loyalty and resourcefulness; in the teenage Arbor and Swifty there is trust and compassion in their clasped hands. 

The Selfish Giant, the Pharisee, the tax collector, Paul, Timothy, Arbor and Swifty all remind us of the need to set our hearts on something other. Implicitly or explicitly there is a call to receive mercy and to become a libation for others.  Contempt is the easy language of the media and political discourse.  Mercy is the difficult path of the Kingdom: it challenges exploitation and exclusion; it embodies compassion and justice.  Will the world in which we live be frozen, brutal and fruitless; or a place of new life where love is poured out?