Sermon: Cathedral Eucharist 16 Feb 2014

Preacher:

Date:

Sunday 16th February 2014

Service:

Cathedral Eucharist

Readings:

1 Cor 3:1-9

Matthew 5: 21-37

Listen:

Download Recording (MP3, 13.7M)

Last week shop windows were festooned with hearts, pink champagne, chocolates and flowers. Love on Valentine's Day is exploitatively overpriced.  It is marketed to us in pink: it's heart-shaped, sweet and sparkling.

Love is more complicated than that.

Around us in Chris Gollon's paintings we glimpse something of the nature of human love. It is vulnerable and risky; it rages against suffering; it laments loss; it sighs with word-less longing.  It reaches beyond itself: for power and influence; for offspring and stability.  It is fierce and tender; it creates space for others in intimacy.

In these paintings, in the stories behind the faces, we glimpse something of God's love for us.  It is also vulnerable and risky; it bears sorrow and pain; it fulfils hopes and shares in delight; it faces our fears and questions; its weakness and fragility is its strength.  It allows a space for others - it whispers words of acceptance; it cries out for forgiveness; it proclaims redemption.

Love is revealed to us in flesh and blood: it is cross-shaped; unsurpassed in depth and breadth; it is a love which never ends.

Such love brings order to our unruly wills and passions.

Chris's paintings call us to understand ourselves and one another better through the lens of familiar narratives; how do we see our human nature as shot through with God's love?

Love that is patient, kind and generous; not envious, nor boastful.  Familiar words; they written to the fractious Corinthians.  They're memorable, costly and equally applicable to us.

Our relationships are fragile; without trust, they falter.  At work, amongst friends/family, within the life of the church fear has a corrosive effect.  Relationships become distorted; we make assumptions, take advantage or feel undermined.  Disagreements turn into what Archbishop Justin called 'zero sum games'.  Someone else's gain is our loss; if they win we lose. 

To move beyond such a fearful stalemate, we need to be as attentive to God as we are to human difference. It is through God's grace, as today's collect puts it, that we love what God commands.

This morning's readings simultaneously raise the bar for human behaviour and trust in God's grace.

In Matthew's Gospel we hear of the consequences of our unruly emotions - lust and anger; exploitation & abandonment; quarrels and grudges. We hear of the limitations and false promises of pledging human oaths.  Paul recognises these human inclinations at work in the church too. 

It would be easy to fall into despair. That's where we' re met by God's righteousness.

We are called to look forward with a broader vision; with a hope that engenders generosity to the other with whom we disagree; and with ourselves in our spiritual infancy.

Paul does not despair at the quarrelsomeness of the Corinthians: rather than fostering personal loyalty or asserting his own teaching authority, he puts God back at the centre.  He and Apollos are servants of God; they have together planted and nurtured seeds of faith; they share a common purpose, working together. But the growth, the grace, the transformation of human lives - that is God's work. 

Archbishop Justin is not showing despair at the workings of General Synod or the future of the Church of England. The CofE he says, is not a closed system; because God is involved therefore there is no limit to what can happen.  His love overwhelms us when we make space for it.

Love and trust are at the root of our common life. They are gifts of God's grace; but they will wither away like Valentine's bouquets unless we put them into practice.  Love has to be demonstrated in how we speak about and interact with each other; trust is built up when it is assumed - in acts of reciprocity. 

Love is fragile and trust is precarious: the slightest shift in tone of language or the misjudged action can set us back.  In his address, our Archbishop has raised the bar in relation to how we express the righteousness of God.  A commitment to mutual flourishing means embarking on a journey which will involve a cultural change.  Change and flourishing are rooted in the good news of God's kingdom.  We are deeply loved; the one with whom we disagree is also beloved.

We would be naive to undercut what a painful and demanding place this to find ourselves in.  Archbishop Justin spoke of an untidy church; a church within which we have to live with incoherence and inconsistency within different dioceses; within individual congregations.  Rather than being a call to put up with the other or keep them at arms length; it was a call to engage with integrity and honesty. Such a way of living as a church is a struggle; and it is potentially an act of witness in a world where there is manifest injustice and disparity of opportunity; where human lives do not flourish and where disagreement festers.

This is not abstract theology or passionate idealism. It is hugely costly; it relies on the brokering trust where there is fear and exclusion; where conviction attempts to limit the scope of God's kingdom.  In response to Justin's call to face fear with love, some Anglicans want a quota of bishops who share their theological position.  That is a source of sorrow and disappointment. 

The Pilling Report on sexuality attempted to create a space for listening, enabling us to use language of blessing about legally recognised and committed relationships within the church.  The phrase facilitated conversations sounds clunky, but it is a way of building trust and beginning a process of what our Archbishop called gracious reconciliation. Yet, a statement by the House of Bishops which mentions love only once and which splits hairs over language of thanksgiving or blessing.  Our Anglican brothers and sisters despair; in some Provinces they face death.

The Corinthians focused their energies on a tribal loyalty split between Paul and Apollos; Jesus warned his disciples about the power of human instinct of anger, lust, pride and conviction of our own rightness.  We have to name the anger we feel; yet at the same time reach out to resources beyond our human capacity. We call for justice and compassion in a spirit of love and trust.

We live amidst broken relationships; we fear of those who are different; we cling to tribal loyalties.  We love our friends; those to whom we extend compassion; but Gospel calls us to a cruciform love; a reconciling love.  We stand in what Rowan called the broken middle.

Last week Canon Andrew reminded us of the call to delight in the brilliance of the other. The light of others that inspires, challenges and encourages us; which liberates us to become more fully who we are.  Sometimes that light can be terrifying - revealing flaws and vulnerabilities; sometimes the other is the one who tests our patience and makes us fearful, who may betray our trust.

That brilliance is God's, refracted through our frailty.

God alone brings order to our wills and passions.

God alone gives us grace to face fear with love.

Love in the life of the church is not pink and sparkly; it is often dark and tear stained. 

Such love risks, redeems and emboldens: revealed in Father, Son and Spirit.

Love is complex, costly and healing: revealed in us.

We are need to make more space; to improve the quality of our disagreement. That is our vocation. 

Space like Monday night where four panelists spoke with passion and affection, humour and great wisdom about the place of Mary.  They did not all agree; but they helped us to learn and to practice our difference in love and trust.

We stand in this place in frailty:

On the night that he was betrayed, he had supper with his friends.

This is where we stand in hope:

We break this bread to share in the body of Christ.

Though we are many; we are one body.

Amen.