Sermon: Mattins - 6 July 2014

Preacher:

Date:

Sunday 6th July 2014

Service:

Mattins

Readings:

Deuteronomy 24:10-end

Acts 28:1-16

Listen:

Download Recording (MP3, 23.7M)

Rowan Williams chose a piano; Seamus Heaney opted for Doc Martins;  Vivienne Westwood requested a multilingual dictionary; and on Friday Lilly Allen asked to take her husband's shirt. 

Over the decades, musicians, poets, fashionistas, politicians, scientists, pop stars and even Archbishops have picked a luxury item. Then Kirsty Young casts them away to a fictional desert island, along with their chosen discs, the Bible and a book of their choice.

She asks them how they think they'll survive: whether they'll be practical enough to build a shelter or fend for themselves; whether they'd look forward to the solitude or find it disturbing.  Islands have a hold on our imaginations whether as an idyllic tropical paradise or as a remote and fearful place.

The luxury items on Desert Island Discs say something about what gives meaning to life for the guests: belongings that bring comfort or evoke memories, things that inspire creativity or new skills, choices which affirm our identity or belonging in the world.

When we are out of our comfort zone, when we face things that disrupt and overwhelm our pattern of life, we are reliant not on objects or on luxuries. Rather we rely on others to sustain us; in their actions glimpsing something of God's love which is our ultimate source of assurance all the days of our life.

Acts recounts the tribulations facing Paul and his companions.  They are on the way to Rome; Paul himself is a prisoner for the sake of the gospel of Christ; he faces death.    Following a fierce storm, they find themselves shipwrecked on the shore of Malta. We know the island as a popular tourist destination. Its location makes it strategically important; its people have been ruled by a succession of powers.  It has a Christian legacy arising from the story we hear today.

Paul and the survivors were soaked, shivering and fearful following their ordeal.  Physically shaken, their well-being lies in the hands of islanders, who speak an unintelligible language.  In the cold and rain of an early dawn, they face a potentially hostile crowd.

The strangers kindle a fire and show kindness.  In practical ways, in gestures of human compassion, they reach out to these beleaguered passengers and crew in their need.   They honour the human dignity of the other.   In so doing, they mediate something of God's grace and generosity.

For the people of God, this pattern of responding to those on the margins was rooted in God's love and faithfulness to them. They had been enslaved and they had been liberated.  They are to remember and to obey the call to justice.  The book of Deuteronomy sets out different scenarios in which the most vulnerable are protected and supported.  When it comes to lending money, paying wages, the sharing of the harvest the poor, the alien, the widow and the orphan are treated justly. 

Attentiveness to God shapes the way in which we respond to others; for God's very nature is love. Remembrance of God's faithfulness to us inspires treat others with justice.  We, in our humanity, are made in the image and likeness of God; the out-flowing of love in freedom not fear is therefore the breaking in of light into the darkness and chaos of the world.  In human acts of practical concern, God is at work in us.

Imagine the commotion surrounding Paul, the people, the flickering firelight and the storm blowing over.  It is perhaps not surprising that a startled viper attaches itself Paul's hand.  Creaturely fear leads to a defensive attack, which reveals misplaced human suspicion.

The crowd's fear leads them to associate an viper's bite with divine displeasure.  It looks to them as if the prisoner Paul if guilty of some terrible deed; they expect him to die.  When he is unharmed, their suspicion turns from fear to worship.  This man must be a god.  Then, as now, public imagination is quick to judge the unknown and quick to be seduced by celebrity.

Paul is on trial for his life; his whole mission is being scrutinised.  His motives were being questioned. His imprisonment casts doubt on his calling.   Here he  stands as neither criminal nor a god.  He is God's servant; he is an human being, every bit as vulnerable as we are.  Yet in the face of the storms that batter and overwhelm him he looks beyond his own resources to sustain him.  Paul has placed his life into the hands of God.  He finds his assurance, whatever will be, in the one who is utterly trustworthy. The one who calls him is faithful.

That faithfulness flows from the love and gifting of freedom in creation; it flowed through the rest, compassion, forgiveness and restoration made known by Jesus; it continues to flow into our lives through the healing and reconciling activity of the Spirit. 

Trusting in God's faithfulness changes us and equips us to respond to others in a way that it is not self-serving but generous.  In a world where inequalities are growing, acting with justice, equity and treating the other with dignity is of paramount importance.  We do not do that in our own strength, but our own act of will, but by the power of God at work in us. 

Paul's experience of the people of Malta, from the crowds on the shore to the local governor, is one of hospitality and concern.   In human action, there is a glimpse of the wholeness that God desires for all creation.   As Paul heals his host's father, God's desire to heal and restore us breaks in.  Even as a shipwrecked prisoner, Paul is an ambassador for Christ; a channel of his healing and reconciling love.

For Paul, Malta is not the end of his journey.  As soon as they are able to set sail at the end of winter, they take a ship bound for Rome.  Again, his hosts give generously to provide provisions to sustain them.  When they disembark at another foreign port, they are greeted Christian brothers and sisters.  Again practical and spiritual gifts are offered in hospitality and Paul takes courage from their presence.

Paul's freedom is restricted but that does not prevent him from living intensely, continuing to proclaim the gospel, giving an account of his faith. Paul cannot number the days that lie ahead of him but he continues to live lightly moment by moment, never relinquishing an opportunity to share the love of God, but knowing he will be relinquishing his own life.

What if we live this day as if it were our first, our last and our only?  Will we do so by placing our trust in the faithfulness of God & delighting in our diversity; as forgiven & forgiving, allowing ourselves to be channels of his compassion and justice; freely giving and receiving the luxuries of hospitality and forgiveness? We are called to do this in the assurance of God's presence with us; and in the hope that he'll draw all things to himself, in that vast ocean of light, when in passing through death we shall know fully as we are fully known.

O Lord, open my eyes that I may see the need of others,

open my ears that I may hear their cries,

open my heart so that they need not be without succour.

Let me not be afraid to defend the weak because of the anger of the strong,

nor afraid to defend the poor because of the anger of the rich.

Show me where love and hope and faith are needed,

and us me to bring them to these places.

Open my eyes and ears that I may, this coming day,

be able to do some work of peace for thee.  Amen.

My God, I pray that I may so know you and love you that I may rejoice in you.

And if I may not do so fully in this life, let me go steadily on to the day when I come to that fullness.

Let the knowledge of you increase in me here, and there let it come to fullness.

Let your love grow in me here, and there let it be fulfilled so that here my joy may be in a great hope, and there in full reality.  Amen.