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SERMONS Sean Gilbert – 7 May 2006 Throughout the long course of Christian history and Christian thought, one particular pendulum swing of emphasis is full of interest; that being God’s grace and forgiveness and the one hand (or pivot) and human free will and action on the other. For it has seemed that as soon as one is mentioned, immediately there has needed to be a counterbalance of the other; eg., receive God’s blessings but be a practical bearer of love. Give all you have for others, but don’t forget where to seek your inspiration. And chances are that on any given Sunday here, whether it be through me or another, that pendulum will be located at different points in the swing, depending on text or even the preacher’s mood! And that’s all fair enough, so long as the two aspects of the one reality are consciously being held together. It’s when they are separated or seen as opposites - enemies even - that things go astray. For instance, the Protestant Reformation was born out of the re-appreciation of grace as against human endeavours (indulgences) to buy back God’s favour, but then in future generations that same reformed movement was most notable for a (Protestant) work ethic that had at times more to do with busyness (commerce) than it had to do with heartfelt devotion and compassion for others. So whilst it may sound theological at best and irrelevant at its worst, these starting points and subsequent balances are important, so long as a fruitful Christian life is concerned, not to mention a healthy and outward looking Christian community. Now, not surprisingly, it is grace that is universally acclaimed, even proclaimed, to be the first cause and the last word, so far as life in the Spirit is concerned; That which shapes and moves the Good Shepherd metaphor in and for us. Indeed, the voice of welcome and acceptance; the touch of forgiveness, comfort and peace. The power behind a regenerate heart and mind or in plainer language, that which was lost, now wondrously found. As I said, the first cause and the last word. A very significant novel of the last century, Diary of a Country Priest, written by Georges Bernados, tells the story of an ordinary, if not inconsequential man who gives his all to serving a rural parish in the midst of petty conflict and prejudice, and who in the end contracts a terminal illness and dies. Hardly the stuff of Hollywood and yet its conclusion is telling beyond measure. On his death bed, and too late for another priest to administer the last rites, he embraces his friend who is worried that an intermediary of God won’t get there in time. “Does it matter,” he whispers, “Grace is everywhere.” A profound theological truth often lost in the Church’s hierarchies, a profound theological promise often laid aside in the midst of life’s preoccupations and anxieties. So that this love, this unconditional favour which stirs the heart and mind, and according to Dante, “moves the sun and the other stars,” therefore stirs the great human capacities to become, to create, to care, and to dream for a whole new world. Meister
Eckhart, a Rhineland mystic of the 13th century lyrically put it like
this: In other words, the gift of grace, received with gratitude, is the creative dance of life itself. A grateful life being, of course, open to discovery, open to the stranger, open to a compassionate and authentically human path of service. The very same road the Good Shepherd would lead us out toward and accompany us on. So indeed the Christian life is all but grace, but a grace that activates the will in very practical and tangible ways. The question being then, how open is that will to radical change, to the letting go and trust that Eckhart encourages? Well, if you are anything like me, it is at times a very selective opening; timid one might even say. Far easier to skate along on the surface following a strong Christian ethic, than to actually take the spiritual life seriously enough to allow those most resistant and self-sufficient parts of us genuine exposure to the winds of transformation. Yet time and time again, the New Testament and John’s Gospel in particular, point us toward the deeper self-abandoning, self-forgetful way. So for all the familiar, and feel-good imagery of the Shepherd and the sheep, at heart and at stake, as we said last week, is a life mirroring his own: self-emptying and self-giving, even to the point of death, as says our text. And for me it’s at that critical juncture that so much of my Christian performance is but stuff and nonsense; a vocational, even cultural game, but for the ready invitation to think, to pray and to act again; to be renewed in an all pervasive goodness. It’s no accident that the greatest and most significant periods of renewal in the Christian church have taken place when the grace of God becomes less a theory and more a lived reality. When attachments to belief, to structures, to churchgoing culture and perhaps more importantly, attachments to our perceived virtue and even goodness, are daringly let go of for the sake of something more. When the windows are opened, the blinds pulled back, when our wind chimes start to sing a new and harmonious tune, instead of just clanging and banging about. An old message, I guess, but always new: Ever the invitation to see again, to feel again, and to love all the more. Grace is …everywhere. Amen. |