Come, let us worship the Lord. Let us bow down in the presence of our maker, for he is the Lord our God.
The Collect
Almighty God, you have created the heavens and the earth and made us in your own image: teach us to discern your hand in all your works and your likeness in all your children; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit reigns supreme over all things, now and for ever. Amen.
When we study the Scriptures, and by that, I mean think and pray about them and perhaps use a commentary on them to deepen our understanding of them, rather than simply read them, we soon realise that a lot of the stories we read in the Scriptures have multiple meanings. There’s the story itself, there’s the meaning of the story, and then there’s the lesson the story teaches us if we apply the meaning of the story to our own lives. But very often, there’s more than one meaning to a story in the Scriptures, there are multiple meanings that we can see, and hidden meanings too, meanings within meanings, and each meaning has its own lesson for us. And this morning’s Gospel is just such a story.
The story itself, of course, is quite a simple one. Mary and Joseph take Jesus to the temple to present him to the Lord so that he could be consecrated, designated as a holy child, which is what they were expected to do in the Law, because Jesus was their first-born. And whilst they’re at the temple, they meet two people, Simeon and Anna, both of whom make a great fuss about the baby Jesus. We’re not told what Anna said, but Simeon had some quite extraordinary things to say about him. And then they go home. So it’s quite a simple story and, on the surface, it has a clear meaning; it’s about doing what the Lord expects of us. That is the clear meaning because we’re told four times in the story that what Mary and Joseph did was done according to the Law of the Lord, and we’re told that they only went home,
“.. when they had performed everything according to the Law of the Lord …”
So the obvious lesson for us in this story is that we should follow in the footsteps of Mary and Joseph and do what the Lord requires of us. But there’s another, perhaps not quite so obvious meaning to this story, and if we see it, and take its lesson to heart, it’s one that will help us enormously in doing what the Lord requires of us.
We find this other meaning in the actions of Simeon and Anna. We’re told that Simeon was righteous and devout, and that Anna was always in the temple, where she worshipped God “with fasting and prayer night and day”. So these were two people who prayed regularly and did what the Lord required of them in their lives. We’re also told that “the Holy Spirit rested” on Simeon, and that he went to the temple when he did that day, under the guidance of the Spirit.
We’re not told that Anna acted under the guidance of the Spirit, but it’s perhaps implied that she did because we’re told that she also came to the temple “at that very hour”.
What the story of Simeon and Anna tells us about them is that they were two people who were looking for God in their lives. Not only that, but they were also expecting God to enter their lives. And because they were looking for God and expecting God, they recognised him when he did enter their lives. They believed that God had spoken to them through his Holy Spirit, and they believed what the Spirit had told them. And because of all these things, they recognised God in the infant child of two lowly, needy people whom they saw in the temple that day. And what that teaches us is that we have to look for God in our lives. We have to expect God to enter our lives. We have to believe that God will and does enter our lives. And we have to do all those things if we want to be able to recognise God when he does enter our lives.
A few years ago, when I was serving in another diocese, the diocese published some material as part of a ‘mission initiative’ (these things don’t only happen in the diocese of Manchester). One of the stated aims of the initiative was to ‘help people find God in a graceless world.’ I was quite surprised that a diocese would publish something like that actually, and even more surprised that a bishop would put his name to it, which he had. Because to say the world is ‘graceless’ in a Christian sense, is to imply that the Holy Spirit is not present, or at least not active in the world, and that is heresy. I actually said to a clergy colleague that I was surprised that the bishop had put his name to such a heretical document. It didn’t do me much good to be honest because, sure enough, what I’d said was reported back to the bishop, but not in the way I’d said it. As I understand it, what was said to the bishop was ‘Fr Stephen Smith says you’re a heretic!’ which, quite obviously, didn’t go down too well with him. Once it had been pointed out to him why I’d mentioned him in connection with heresy, I believe the bishop did admit that he hadn’t actually read the document properly when he put his name to it and that it did contain ‘a rather unfortunate choice of words’.
Now, I understood what that document was trying to say. But the problem is not that the world is graceless, that the Holy Spirit is not present and active in the world, the problem is that most people aren’t looking for God in their lives. They don’t look for God because they don’t expect God to enter their lives and because they don’t believe he will. And because they’re not looking or expecting and believing, they don’t recognise God when he does enter their lives. It’s not that the world is graceless, it’s rather that grace isn’t sought, expected or believed in and so it’s not recognised for what it is when it comes our way. And because it’s not recognised it’s not used. And because it’s not used, it can’t help us do what God requires us to do.
That’s a problem in our society generally, where so many people either don’t believe in God at all, or if they say they do, don’t allow that belief to affect their lives in any way. It’s a problem in a country in which, for example, almost 60% of the population say they’re Christians, but in which less than 5% attend church services. But I think it’s a problem even amongst people whose Christian faith is more than merely nominal.
If we think about our own lives, how many times have we been faced with a problem, for which we’ve struggled to find an answer, but the problem has actually been resolved or answered unexpectedly, or in a way we didn’t expect? I’m sure we’ve all been in that situation at some time in our lives. I know I have, and I know other people who come to this church have, because they’ve told me about it. But when we have been in those situations, how often have we simply thought that the solution to our problem has just been the result of good luck, or coincidence, that our problem’s been solved, or at least eased, because something’s happened at just the right time? But isn’t it possible that those have been times when God has entered our lives? That he has had a hand in the solution to our problem? There have probably been many times in our lives when we’ve thought that we’ve simply been lucky, when in fact, God has entered our lives and we’ve not realised it because we’ve not recognised him.
How many times in our lives have we read a passage of Scripture, or sung a hymn, something that we’ve read or sung so many times before that we know it by heart. And then, suddenly, we see something in the words that we haven’t seen before and we come to a new and much deeper understanding of what we’re reading or singing about? That happens a lot too. But when it does, why do we think it’s happened? Do we think it’s because we’ve known this story or hymn for so long, and we know it by heart, so we haven’t really been reading it properly before, and that now we have, we understand it a bit better? Or do we believe that this sudden revelation has come to us by grace, that it’s the Holy Spirit who’s visited us and opened our eyes to really see and understand these words, perhaps for the first time?
When we see and meet and talk to other people, how often do we simply see and hear another human being? Of course that is what we see and hear, but how often do we see and hear God speaking to us through that other human being? When we speak to someone about our faith, for example, do we simply see and hear another person who goes to church, just like us? Or do we see and hear someone who might have an understanding of what it is to be a Christian that we don’t have? Someone who, through their experience of God, might have insights that we don’t have but that they could share with us, if only we believed they might have them and looked for them so that we might recognise them? Do we see each other as ways through which God enters our lives and speaks to us?
And when we see people in need, do we see God entering our lives in and through them? We know we’re called to love our neighbour and that Jesus said that what we do for others, we do for him, but do we really see Christ in those in need? We might see the suffering of those people mirroring the suffering of Jesus in some sense. We might, and probably do see an opportunity to use grace and do what God requires of us when we see and hear about people who are suffering and in need. But do we really see God entering our lives in those people? Do we look for God in those people? When we see people who are suffering and in need, do we just see their faces, or do we really see and recognise the face of Jesus, in their faces?
There are so many ways that God can and does enter our lives. But if we’re waiting for him to appear, unmistakably, in dazzling light and with thundering voice, we’re probably going to disappointed. God usually comes to us in much quieter, gentler ways that are not so easy to recognise, and are much more easily missed. So if we’re going to recognise God when he enters our lives, we have to look for him, we have to expect him to enter our lives and we have to believe that he will enter our lives. If we can do those things, then we’ll be much more like Simeon and Anna and be better able to recognise God when we see him. And we’ll be much more like Mary and Joseph too in being better able to do all that God requires of us.
Amen.
The Propers for The Presentation of the Lord (Candlemas) can be found here.
CS Lewis Square, Belfast Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash
How many people have heard of C.S. Lewis? How many of you have ever read any of his books? It wouldn’t be a surprise if most of you have heard of Lewis, nor if a lot of you have read his books because he is a well-known and much-loved author. His most well-known work is The Chronicles of Narnia and I think pretty much everyone will at least have heard of that and perhaps read one, if not more, of the 7 novels that make up the complete Chronicles. But Lewis is also well-known, particularly amongst Christians, for his books on the Christian faith. And if you’re looking for something to read during Lent, which is only just over 3 weeks away now, you could do worse than read at least one of Lewis’ books on Christianity.
Lewis’ books on Christianity were published quite a long time ago now, between the early 1940s and the mid-1960s actually, but even so, I think they’re still relevant to us today. The reason for that is that they draw on Lewis’ own experiences of faith and struggles with faith and although those things are personal and peculiar to each one of us, Lewis’ own journey of faith is an interesting one because it will have both a lot of similarities with many of ours but, at the same time, it’s quite an unusual one.
Lewis was born in Belfast. He was born into a Christian family who were members of the Church of Ireland, which is essentially the Anglican Church of Ireland. Like many of us here today, I’m sure, he went to Church as a child but, when he was 12, he abandoned his Christian faith and stopped going to Church, in large part it seems because he found it all to be something of a chore and lacking in joy. Then through his teens and 20s, he confessed himself to be an atheist and it wasn’t until he was in his early 30s that he became convinced of the existence of God. At that time though, that was as far as his faith went. It was another 2 years before he finally returned to the Christian faith and to the Church of England.
I’m sure some of us will find at least parts of that story are similar to our own journey of faith. What’s unusual about Lewis’ story is the way he came back to the Christian faith and the Church.
Lewis always insisted that his conversion was brought about by reason and logical thought: it was a conversion brought about by words rather than deeds. He came to believe in God again, and later came back to the Christian faith and the Church, as a result of long conversations with his friends. Among those friends were the famous authors J.R.R. Tolkien and G.K. Chesterton, both of whom were Roman Catholics. And yet, much to Tolkien’s disappointment I believe, Lewis became an Anglican, and remained a member of the Church of England for the rest of his life.
That’s unusual in a number of ways. It’s not often that people are convinced of the existence of God and become Christians as a result of intellectual discussion. For most people that happens because they’ve seen, or particularly when they’ve experienced an act of Christian charity, some act of love or kindness or generosity that’s been performed by a Christian. Or it happens when people have a sudden revelation of God, they suddenly realise that God is there with them and at work in their lives. And it’s also unusual for someone to become a member of a different Church to the one those who’ve convinced them to believe in God and become a Christian belong to; they usually join their friends or those who’ve shown them Christian charity in the Church they belong to.
So whilst Lewis’ journey of faith may be familiar to many of us because it’s not too dissimilar to our own, the nature of his return to faith and the Church, is quite unusual. And I’m sure Lewis himself realised that because he said of it himself,
“The intellectual life is not the only road to God, nor the safest, but we find it to be a road, and it may be the appointed road for us.”
So, as Lewis said, and as I’m sure we know ourselves, there are different ways to bring people to God and faith and the Church. And if we’re going to be successful in bringing people to God and faith and the Church, if we’re going to be successful at mission, we need try as many of these different ways we possibly can, to do it.
I think perhaps one of the mistakes the Church makes when it talks about and plans and engages in mission though, is that it seems to forget what the mission of the Church actually is. The mission of the Church is set out in the Great Commission that Jesus gave to his disciples to,
“Go … and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.”
So the mission of the Church is to bring people to God, to faith and to the Church, and to teach them about Jesus. There are many ways to that, as I’ve said, I think though, what the Church tends to do is concentrate so much on the how we do that, that why we’re doing it is forgotten, or at least neglected.
I’ll give you an example of what I mean. We’re being encouraged these days to make more use of our church buildings and one of the ways we’re encouraged to do that, is through what seems to come under the banner of ‘Community Engagement’ or perhaps of ‘Serving the Community’. Some of the ways that churches are doing that is by using their buildings as ‘Drop-In Centres’ or using them for ‘Coffee Mornings’ and ‘Luncheon Clubs’ and all sorts of things like that. Now there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that in itself and, in fact, there’s a lot that right and good about it. It’s part of loving our neighbour and caring for people in our communities who may be in need of these things. But there’s nothing specifically Christian about doing any of these things is there?
The fact is, people of all faiths and no faith do these kinds of things. These days, people of other faiths and no faith use our church buildings to do them, and sometimes they’re even do that at the expense of the Church’s worship. In fact, at times, the Church itself does these things at the expense of worship, or at least, these things have become more important to some churches than worship because more people go to them than go to church to worship God.
But if there’s no specific and observable Christian involvement and input at these events, I think we have to ask how they’re actually helping the mission of the Church? These things might be serving the community by providing the community with a building to hold events in, but if the Church isn’t involved in them or making their faith known to those who go to them when it is involved, how are these things helping the Church to fulfil its great, Christ-given commission to bring people to God, to faith and to the Church and to teach them about Jesus?
Now I know people say we shouldn’t talk about our faith at community events. They say that puts people off going to them because they don’t want to have our faith rammed down their throats. But we can talk to people about our faith, and use these things for mission, without ramming our faith down their throats. And it’s so simple. For example, if we hold a community event or help out at one and someone thanks us for what we’re doing, we simply need to say that they’re welcome, that we’re only doing what we’re supposed to do as Christians and showing some love and care for our neighbours.
If we get into a conversation with people, eventually the conversation will no doubt come round to what we do in our lives. In that case we simply need to make sure that we say, at some point, that we go to Church and we’re Christians. But if we don’t say things like this, how do people know who we are or why we’re there doing what we’re doing? We could be anyone, community volunteers, friends or family of the volunteers or organisers. Just because we’re at a community event in a church building doesn’t mean that everyone there automatically knows, or even assumes, that we’re Christians and are at the event because we’re Christians. But if we do say even such simple things as this, we’ve shared our faith, we’ve tried to use a community event to help the Church’s mission and we’ve tried to play our part in fulfilling the Great Commission that Jesus gave us.
We can help people to come to God, to faith and to the Church, and we can teach them about Jesus in many ways, by both word and deed but we’ll be able to do that much more effectively if our words and our deeds go together. We see that in our gospel readings today. Depending on which readings we’re following this morning, we’ll read either about Jesus calling some of his disciples, by word, or about his changing water into wine at the wedding in Cana, the first of the signs he performed through which, St John tells us, Jesus’ disciples came to believe in him. So we see that, in Jesus, words and deeds went hand-in-hand in order to bring people to faith. We could say that Jesus’ words got people interested enough to follow him, and it was what they saw and experienced as they followed him that convinced them that Jesus was the one to follow. And if that was the way Jesus called people to faith, surely, it’s the way we should try to call people to faith too?
Jesus’ way of calling people to faith, Jesus’ way of doing mission, if you like, worked: we know it did because we wouldn’t be in Church today if it hadn’t worked. Jesus’ brought people to faith by putting words and deeds together. So why should today’s Church seem to want to try a different way? Why should today’s Church want to try to bring people to faith by separating our words from our deeds, or by trying to use deeds alone? We must have deeds, good works if you prefer, but they must go hand-in-hand with words. That was Jesus’ way, and it should be our way too. Unless of course, today’s Church thinks it knows better than Jesus?
Amen.
The Propers for the 3rd Sunday of Ordinary Time (Epiphany 3) can be found here.
Parish Church of St Mark Chadderton 