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SERMONS Sean Gilbert – 3/5/09 I’m always delighted, if not excited to offer an introduction (slightly different each time, I would hope) to the Gospel of St. John. You may realize that it doesn’t have a year of focus in our lectionary cycle as do the other three gospels (or synoptics), so each year, at particular times, key texts from John are fused, so to speak, within the nominated gospel flow. This year being the year of…Mark. There’s probably good reason for this, well beyond my comprehension or concern, and perhaps it has something to do with maintaining a balance of emphasis and style. For taken on it own, John could well be too intense, if not mind boggling. It is a very different scriptural text. Written well after the others, the 4th gospel, is highly nuanced and symbolic; poetic to its core, genius at play through its phrasing. In other words, it is a highly polished and structured theological reflection about the person of Jesus Christ, not simply in history (a distant history at that), yet present now to the writer’s faith community; risen, spirited and life bearing. Historical accuracy, therefore, is a non issue. All the stories, some having echoes in Matthew, Mark and Luke, pointing well beyond themselves to the present, existential and potentially re-birthing moment in time: Who will this Christ be to us and what qualitative difference will that make to our lives? One of the great contrasts between John and the synoptics, I think, is its lack of pragmatics, or if you like, the avoidance of a how to theology, in favour of something a little more obscure, although in my mind, something far more sublime, motivating and creative. It is the writer’s insistence that faith arises not from a mere (and impossible) imitation of Christ or just from being highly committed, but from a spiritual union with God: in Christ, through the all pervasive agency and beauty of the Spirit. A mystical or symbiotic union of divinity and humanity, which is expressed or hinted at with all the key metaphors in John; Shepherd and Sheep, Vine and Branches, Friend, Friends, Light, Water, Life, Love etc. My point being, (and David Tacey well expressed this last night), that a fruitful Christianity is an unscripted and dynamic thing, arising out of a deep knowing of God’s gathering embrace, even in the midst of the most messy and despairing of life experience’s; our clay feet, our hearts of stone included. And if there is one text that underscores this to the hilt, it is when Peter baulks / protests at being washed (graced) by Jesus through a great deal of bluster and false humility. The response of St. John’s Jesus is to say to Peter, and indeed all the readership (us included), “Unless you allow me to do this to you, you can have no part in or with me.” Peter’s response to this is perhaps even more instructive so far as the underlying message is concerned. “Ah, not just my feet then. Wash me from head to foot!” In other words, a full immersion into life and love; the whole of the human experience enfolded in grace, not just the respectable, religious bits. So, over the next three weeks, I want us to further explore the quite symbiotic relationship between the present Christ, in and through our very human, yet spiritual life experience. And whilst we always run the risk of such explorations being labeled ‘navel gazing’, impractical, or self-serving, John’s gospel is unequivocal that good and lasting fruit bearing in life – a human “ripening” in Rilke’s evocative words – is ultimately dependent upon our spirituality being properly and lovingly attended to; never ignored or disparaged in favour of more tangible and pressing things. Indeed, the more I think about it, the more remiss I would be in my role, if I did not continually bring these matters or better still, these potentialities to your attention. To quote a North American Lutheran pastor of late when asked how to grow a local congregation. “It’s not rocket science,” he said. “Preach the gospel, tend to the community’s spiritual well being and be about service to the wider community.” So, in this particular light – a good and kindly light I trust - let us hear again the well known and loved teaching of John’s Jesus, concerning the Good Shepherd and his beloved sheep. John 10:11-18
Sunset (Rilke) Slowly the west reaches for clothes of new colours leaving you, not really belonging to either, leaving you (it is impossible to untangle the threads) “…sometimes blocked in, sometimes reaching out, The Poet, in two short verses, names something true to my own humanity and I’m pretty sure, true to most others; an odd mixture of cold stone and glimmering star, a strange blend of charity and profound selfishness, all in the one bottle! And to be sure, this is the paradox of humanity that the teachings of Jesus in John’s gospel continually address. If you like, that place of the in between world, potentially creative but also potentially despairing. Now I stress despairing initially because this in between or no-where land can leave us with a lingering sense of futility, hopelessness, even lethargy, if at life’s end we have struggled but not seemingly gone anywhere; tried very hard yet in our own minds, never really succeeded at much. Thankfully, into such common experiences of life, both the Word and words of grace eloquently come. “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” In other words, I am the bridging point, the interface, the pivot, the still point of the turning world. I hold these different, difficult realities together by virtue of a reconciling and accepting love; so deep, so enduring, that I will give my life for your peace and wholeness in God. A love so enfolding of humanity - our clay feet, mistakes, deepest points of shame and regret, and the many foibles and limitations – that it dares to include it (elevate it) within what we understand to be the drawing mystery of God and Love. Remarkable, particularly given that many religions and religious teachers
still use shame, guilt and raw feelings of inadequacy, to pave a rigorous
path unto heaven, not to mention guaranteeing a continued allegiance
to the cause. Yet here is a teacher unique in his insistence
that all we are, alive to the presence of grace, is sufficient. Indeed,
immediately prior to our text, stand the famous sentences, “The
thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they
may have life, and have it abundantly.” So friends, we come to this table to again be reminded how enfolding and welcoming is the mystery of God, in Christ, lived out through the Spirit. And make no mistake, we belong here, not through arrogance, presumption, correct posture or phrasing, only by virtue of God’s declared desire that we commune; that we find our rightful place in the heart of the Divine, and that daily we take that Gift into the soul of our common humanity and allow it to have its transformative way with us. Of course, the tension Rilke describes will still go on, stone and star, open and closed, yet it can be a highly creative one, when gladly accepted (reconciled) and not endlessly fought against; when we hear God’s resounding “Yes” to us, irrespective of success or perceived failure, irrespective of light or darkness. And when we say “Yes” to God as lives given freely and generously in the service of Kindness. Well, next week, we’ll say more about a creative life and the choices we make before the key metaphors of True Vine and Branches. Let us take a minute or two before this table, before this mystery, to find our place of welcome, enfolding love and peace…..
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