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The Ordination of Priests, Holy Trinity, Rayleigh

22 June 2008

Sermon

The Reverend Canon Hugh Beavan, Vicar of Burnham on Crouch

Words from today's gospel Luke 5: 1 - 11 Jesus said to Simon: 'put out into deep water ... do not be afraid.'

Sometimes clergy are invited into a class in a local school where the children have prepared some very thoughtful and demanding questions about their life and work ... what has been your most amusing or funny experience? what has been your most extraordinary experience? what has been your most terrifying experience? I can answer that last one very easily - the thought of having to preach at an ordination service! But thank you, Bishop Laurie, for your most gracious invitation and for the tremendous honour you have bestowed upon me.

Actually, I think my most terrifying experience was to discover I had to drive the minibus to take the Confirmation group away for a weekend in my second curacy parish, close to the Elephant & Castle in South London! I was terrified because I had never driven anything bigger than a Renault 4 and because we would be leaving at the height of the early evening Friday rush hour! Talk about having to put out into deep water! ... but I have to say that by the end of that weekend I was really enjoying driving that minibus!

And my most bizarre or extraordinary experience? managing to play the parts of Judas Iscariot AND Pontius Pilate in the same passion play in two different parishes!!

Those of you being priested today will already have realised that there are many times when we have to leave behind the security and familiarity of the shallows and put out into deep waters. You will be more adventurous than my generation of clergy - we are stuck with trying to do better the old ways of being church. You will be more open to new ways of being and doing church, 'fresh expressions' ... you are truly signs of hope, hope for a renewed church and for a better world.

As time goes by, all of us in ordained ministry, by the grace of God, grow in competence and confidence, in 'wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and people', and in a deepening sense that 'underneath are the everlasting arms'. And yet ... there will still be times, however long we've been ordained, when we will feel anxious and terrified as we face some seemingly impossible demand upon us. For example, just over a year ago I had to conduct the triple funeral of a father, mother, and 25 year old daughter who were all killed instantaneously when their plane crashed into a Scottish mountainside (the father being a very well known local politician). And the first funeral of this year was of a popular young taxi driver in the town who had shot himself just before Christmas.

But it is as we venture into these sorts of deep water that we discover the all-sufficiency of God's grace, that we have indeed been 'carried on eagle's wings', and we discover the truth of Paul's words in today's epistle: By the grace of God I am what I am and his grace towards me has not been in vain. (1 Corinthians 15: 10)

St. Mark describes the call of Simon Peter and the first apostles as something that happens immediately Jesus appears 'on the scene'. St. Luke, by contrast, tells us it happens later after Jesus has already made himself known and published his memorable manifesto in the synagogue at Nazareth.

As with earlier stories in Luke e.g. the angelic visitations to Zechariah, to Mary, and to the shepherds, God steps in while ordinary people are quietly going about their ordinary, everyday business, in this instance while the fishermen are cleaning their nets. And in all these incidents the coming of God's power into their lives frightens them. But the words addressed to them are the same: 'Do not be afraid ', for this power is not going to destroy the world but remake it.

But our Old Testament reading (Isaiah 6: 1 -8) suggests that it is in times of worship and prayer that we will experience God's presence. So Isaiah has an overwhelming experience of God's power and presence when he is at worship in the Temple, surrounded by the beauty of the architecture and carvings, the music and the liturgy, the beauty of holiness, or as Michael Ramsey better described it 'the holiness of beauty'. And certainly if worship is, in the words of William Temple, the purifying of our imaginations by God's beauty, the nourishing of our minds by his truth, and the opening of our hearts to his love then we should have such an expectation.

But our Gospel reading strongly encourages us to look also for God's presence, power and love in the course of our everyday lives and work. For the clergy this means not only when we preside at the Lord's table and handle the holy mysteries and when we administer the sacraments of the new covenant, but also when we are in people's homes, in hospital wards, hospices and care homes, in the ITU ward and the Special Care Baby Unit ... when we are privileged to minister to those who bear great suffering, often without bitterness or resentment, the chronically sick, the terminally ill, the dying, the sorrowful and bereaved, the senile and confused, those who travail and are heavy laden ... in such situations we will discover we are indeed standing on holy ground.

'Put out into deep water' says Jesus to Simon i.e. into the frightening and unfamiliar places where you have not been before. For Luke is the historian of the Church's launching out beyond the home waters of Palestine, Temple and synagogue. Peter, James, and John form a trio representing the Church. We meet them again at important moments in the gospel story. Here they are model disciples who give the call of Jesus absolute priority over their own exhaustion, weakness and limitations and, in the end, we are told, 'they left everything and followed Jesus'.

We are not asking those of you being priested today to leave everything behind. You are not entering the religious life, taking vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. But there will be a 'leaving behind' which will differ for each of you ... there will be sacrifices ... a 'letting go' of the past in order that you may let God become more and more the absolute priority in your lives.

As you did a year ago so today you are saying again 'here am I take me'. And as you put out again into deep water, not knowing what lies ahead but quietly confident that 'He who calls you is faithful', we pray that you may hear the words addressed to Zechariah, to Mary, to the shepherds, and to Simon Peter ringing in your ears 'do not be afraid'.

May God bless your ministries abundantly and make you a blessing to others. Amen.

The Chrism Mass, Chelmsford Cathedral

20 March 2008

Sermon

The Right Reverend Dr Laurie Green, Bishop of Bradwell

“We break this bread to share in the body of Christ.
Though we are many, we are one body, because we all share in one bread.”

We gather as one body on this day when our Lord gave us this eucharist of bread and wine. And, in the midst of this sacrament of unity, we are to bless oils for healing & baptism.

The blessing of oils in the Chrism Mass is an exquisitely early rite first described in the Apostolic Tradition of Hippolytus in the Year of our Lord 215.

The Maundy Thursday renewal of vows, however, dates back only to when I was a young man - and that was not in the time of Hippolytus. I was in my late teens when there was a mass exodus of traditionalist priests and lay people from the Roman Catholic Church. They could not stand the modernising that the bishops of the recent international Vatican Council had decided upon. The Pope therefore suggested that we all be brought back to our vocational roots on this day in order to underline our unity amidst our differences.

The Church of England has never been ashamed to pinch a good idea from anywhere, and so incorporated the new rite of renewal of vows into our own Lenten calendar.

And this renewal, for laity as well as the ordained, goes well with the blessing of oils in this present time, for the oil of healing and refreshment was never more needed than now for a broken world and a disunited church. Today’s disunity in the Church is no longer just of academic concern. We’re feeling the distress of it quite personally. I hear people saying, “Other so-called Christians don’t even believe in the same God I believe in.” I’ve said it myself -“This is not the same Church I joined when I first made my ordination vows.” But of course the truth is that this is the very same church which I joined years ago - it’s just that I never knew just how diverse it is. I never even thought of myself as Anglican - I was just ‘Church of England’.

I never knew that around the other side of the world, God had Anglican children who thought it was perfectly Christian to have two or more wives, or that the bible said you could oppress black people or deny women their rights. I never needed to know about all these challenging differences. But God always knew the church was like that - and God knows it still is. We’re only now finding out - with the advent of international communication and ease of travel - that people really don’t think the way we do - and yet call themselves Christians - even ‘Anglican’ Christians. And what a challenge it’s turned out to be! Does this really mean that those gun-toting Americans of the bible-belt who shout “Kill a commie for Christ”, are my Christian brothers and sisters? And if you can find it in your heart to link arms with groups like that, I’m sure I can hand pick just for you a group of Christians from around the world who would bring you up sharp.

Our Diocesan Synod was recently reminded of the Hebrew story about King David. He wished to make a thank offering to God. He looked for a site to build his altar and chose the threshing-floor of Araunah the Jebusite. “My King,” said Araunah, “let me give you the land to build your altar.” “No," said the king to Araunah, "I shall give you a price for it; I will not offer Yahweh my God burnt offerings which have cost me nothing.” In today’s globalised world, when we at last know that there are Christians who believe in things we find repugnant, we no longer live in a world where unity will cost us nothing. To make an offering to our God of our unity, here in this Cathedral today, it will cost us. Unity is easy for the authoritarian or imperialist: demanding that all be united around what they themselves believe. But that is no worthy offering.

To realise first, that we have deep differences. And then to acknowledge that those differences are important - differences to be treasured. And then to be prepared to sacrifice these treasures on the altar of our unity in Christ - now, that will be a worthy offering - worthy, because it will cost us. King David said, “I will pay a price for it. I will not offer Yahweh my God offerings which have cost me nothing.” To acknowledge heart-felt differences and still love one another and covenant to work together? An offering indeed!

Christ Jesus is in the Garden of Gethsemane struggling to offer his sacrifice. The name ‘Gethsemane’ means ‘The Oil Press’. It was the place where the most precious olives were thrown together into a heap and squeezed until they gave up their precious juices - the oil for anointing. In Gethsemane, precious Jesus being squeezed, under pressure, for your sake and for mine.

But how far can we be squeezed? Under pressure I find myself arguing, “isn’t truth more important than unity?” To stand for what is correct even if it breaks our togetherness? Isn’t that a nobler way? But as I ponder the words of Jesus in those last precious and pressured days of his earthly life I am led to wonder - am I not mistaken? - Is not unity itself a truth? I see Jesus sacrificing himself to bring me into relationship - into unity with God and my neighbour. For Jesus, truth is a relationship. Truth is the unity which holds together all our struggling differences. Truth is a family of differences - a family. And I know myself to be in his one family of different and conflicting children whom he cherishes with equal and undivided love.

And isn’t an awareness of that fact the genius of Anglicanism? To know that I am not saved by my own opinions, or even our opinions, but by God’s gracious gift of unity across our diversity. To be an Anglican one has to be courageous. You priests and deacons who sit here now, you who bring immense and varied gifts to your ministry and offer them week in and week out, you have the courage and grace to love even in what can sometimes be trying situations - I know this. You bring healing to a broken world. And we all here, laity and ordained alike, thank God for you - courageous Anglicans.

And we do so, knowing that not everyone will have what it takes to be a real Anglican. They argue like good Anglicans, but then they don’t stay in the family. Perhaps it’s not their vocation. But for us, 21st century globalised Anglicans, togetherness in diversity is our vocation, our calling. It is our anointing.

Jesus does not offer his God anything that has cost him nothing. He kneels in the oil press of Gethsemane, sweating blood, anointed with his own blood, trying to hold it all together. He has just walked from an upper room, where he made his offering of bread and wine to his friend Judas. Offered to be in communion with his betrayer. And the Lord is here, bidding his disciples again to love one another even that much. To lay down the burden of the truths we have made for ourselves, those that we have so heavily treasured, in order to be anointed together with the oil of gladness.

The Oil of Exorcism, driving out those old ghosts of arrogance and self-justifying opinion. The Oil of Healing, binding up the wounds and scars of old battles. The Oil of Chrism, conditioning us as athletes for the challenges of the race together. How we need that anointing. And Jesus, the anointed Christ, there in the threshing floor, there in the Oil Press of Gethsemane, saying, “Not my will, but thine.” And we echo: “Not my opinion, but thine,” “not my church, but thine,” “not my priesthood, but thine.” “Not my little truth, but your truth which says, “You see what I have done for you? Then you also must wash one another’s feet.”

Let us not offer to God an offering which costs us nothing. For the truth is neither my opinion nor yours, but the truth is the divine space that God gives us within which we can struggle and disagree, whilst yet always knowing that, “we who are many are one body, for we all share one bread.” AMEN.

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