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Swords Into Ploughshares

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Sermon preached for Advent Sunday 2025 based on Isaiah 2:1-5 and Matthew 24:36-44

The book of Isaiah is one of my go-to books in the bible when I want to think about hope and the future. It is traditionally attributed to Isaiah ben Amoz, who prophesied during the 8th century BC, primarily in Jerusalem, whose ministry occurred during a tumultuous period in the history of the Israelite kingdom of Judah, which was marked by political instability and threats from powerful empires like Assyria and Babylon. His prophecies addressed both the immediate concerns of his time and the future of Israel.

Now, the first thing to say is that when we talk about Israel in the bible, it is not the same thing as the modern- day Zionist state that was created in 1948 through the Balfour Declaration of 1917, and we shouldn’t equate one with the other. Biblical Israel, spoke about a covenant people of God, whose religion had ancient roots, based on the Torah and the worship of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Zionism, on the other hand, is a modern political ideology that seeks to establish and maintain a Jewish state, irrespective of religious beliefs.

However, these two factors played a part in making me initially feel saddened that Isaiah’s prophecy they ‘they shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning-hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more’ seems so remote today as it perhaps has throughout human history.

I would venture to say that every time each of us prays, we include a prayer for peace, it being one of the most longed for answers we seek, yet it never quite materialises in the way we hope. I think this feeling that I had was increased by having listened to a track that Elton John wrote on his album Blue Moves called “If There’s a God in Heaven (What’s He Waiting For?)”. The song is characterized by its powerful lyrics that address themes of societal breakdown, poverty, and the apparent indifference of a higher power to human suffering.

I then have to shake myself away from these thoughts and remember that God always hears our prayers, is aware of and is already dealing with these situations, by putting the right people in the right place to bring about peace, but that the gift of human free-will means that political and personal ambitions of some individuals and groups are deaf to the possibility that people could actually live in peace as a human race.

So, we look at global conflict, economic uncertainty, cultural turmoil, and natural disasters, and we wonder where history is heading and when things will finally be made right. Scripture does not shy away from that longing, and this morning’s readings speak directly to the tension of waiting, and the hope we have in God’s promises and the need to be prepared. As we enter the Advent season, we are called to prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ and the importance of being vigilant and ready for his return.

Isaiah presents a vision of the future where ‘the mountain of the Lord’s shall be established’, and ‘all the nations shall stream to it’. This powerful imagery symbolizes a time of peace and unity under God’s reign, and he encourages us to look beyond our current struggles and to envision a world transformed by God’s presence. Whilst Jesus is giving us a warning about the future – that we must be ready because the exact time of his second coming is unknown.

Isaiah sees something extraordinary: ‘In days to come’ he says, God’s mountain will be raised up, and all nations will stream to it. This is not just a picture of Israel’s hope—it’s a picture of the world’s hope. He describes a future where the desire of the nations is God Himself. This is truly remarkable because as I’ve just mentioned, our world today is drawn toward power, wealth, and conflict. But Isaiah sees a day when the gravitational pull of the world shifts—when people are attracted not by violence or self-interest, but by the wisdom, justice, and beauty of God.

Then we have that most beautiful promise of complete peace, because all thoughts and means of conflict will end. Isaiah is not offering a politician’s promise or a human dream. He is offering God’s future. A future where instruments of destruction become tools of cultivation. A future where military forces are no longer needed. A future where peace is not maintained by threat, but by transformation.

Isaiah’s vision doesn’t end simply with this poetic imagery, the following verse is a command to walk in the light now. ‘O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!’. In other words, live now as if that future is already coming, by letting the future shape the present.

So, if Isaiah is showing us the goal, Jesus shows us the urgency. Jesus says very clearly, ‘But about that day and hour no one knows…only the Father. He also uses a simple but sobering image: a homeowner who would have stayed awake if he knew when the thief was coming. This timing belongs to God alone; not to angels, nor prophets, not to the most educated believers, not even Jesus in his earthly humanity. We cannot predict the day, we can only prepare for it.

‘They shall beat their swords into ploughshares,
and their spears into pruning-hooks;
nation shall not lift up sword against nation,
neither shall they learn war any more’

Jesus compares his second coming to the days of Noah. People were eating, drinking, marrying—living ordinary lives—when suddenly everything changed in an instant. There will be no email alert, no breaking-news headline, no world calendar reminder. Life will be going on as usual when Christ returns, which is precisely why we must always be ready. A readiness born out of love, loyalty, and longing—not anxiety.

Isaiah says God’s future is glorious – walk toward it. Jesus says God’s coming is unexpected – stay awake for it. So how are we invited to live between these two messages? Well, Isaiah invites us to allow the future peace of God to shape the way we see today’s world. Christians are not naïve optimists who pretend evil doesn’t exist. We are hopeful realists who believe evil does not have the final word. When the world is filled with conflict, when nations threaten nations, when peace seems impossible – Isaiah reminds us that God has already declared the ending.

And Jesus says readiness is not about predicting the future – it’s about being faithful in the present. Being ready does not mean standing on a hilltop, staring up at the sky. It means doing the everyday work of discipleship: loving our neighbours, seeking justice, forgiving enemies, serving the poor, praying without ceasing, living with integrity, practicing mercy, following Jesus when no one else is watching; and that’s plenty to keep our thoughts and bodies occupied in doing what we are called to do.

Jesus’ words challenge us to examine our priorities and how we spend our time. Are we focused on the mundane aspects of life, or are we actively seeking to grow in our faith and relationship with God? It is a call to action, urging us to reflect on how we can contribute to this vision of peace and justice in our own lives and communities. It challenges us to be agents of change, promoting reconciliation and understanding among nations.

The world may look dark at times, but dawn always begins in the dark. And the church is called to be a people standing on the edge of morning – a people whose lives shine with the coming light of God.

So, this Advent let us commit to deepening our relationship with God, through prayer, reading the scriptures, and acts of service. These things help us stay focused on what truly matters and prepare our hearts for the coming of Christ. To be inspired to live out our faith actively, contributing to the vision of peace and justice that Isaiah proclaims.

This Advent season, let us prepare our hearts and lives for the arrival of our Saviour, who comes to bring light and hope to the world, to anticipate the celebration of Christ’s
birth but also prepare for his ultimate return, living each day in the light of His love and grace.

This Advent let us pray for peace and know that the Prince of Peace comes to show us the way.

Amen

When looking for an image to go with this particular blog I came across this poignant painting. I would not dare to suggest what the artist, Michael Cook’s own thoughts were behind its composition, but it speaks to me of longing and hope, that in the midst of war there is a reason for fighting and a dream that new life will come, and that swords will truly be made into ploughshares. This beautiful piece of artwork was commissioned by Melbourne Parish Council to commemorate the centenary of the Armistice, and all money from sales goes back to the Parish Council. https://www.hallowed-art.co.uk/product/swords-into-ploughshares/

Follow Me…

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Sermon preached on Remembrance Sunday 2024 based on Mark 1:14-20

Alfie Couzens was nineteen years old. He had been born within a couple of years of the ending of the Great War, the war to end all wars. Born, after his father, had marched back from France with the victorious troops to a hero’s welcome, but who had then quietly slipped back into the fishing community in the remote Scottish isles. Alfie was an only child for some six years before he was joined by two more brothers and a sister.

His father had been a sniper in the army and had faced some harrowing experiences that were never talked about, and his mother would often hush the children’s games of battles and combat, fought with stick guns and pinecone hand grenades if his father was at home.

Despite their remoteness on the island, the community was very much aware as they heard about the rise of Hitler in the 1930’s and knew what it implied.

So, in the summer of 1939, when Alfie got home one day, he asked his father directly, ‘Is there going to be a war?’ ‘Probably,’ his father replied. ‘And the sooner the better!’ There was no mistaking the horror on his mother’s face.

‘It’s true,’ his father continued. ‘Every extra day we give that madman, the more powerful he’ll become; and this damn government we’ve got, thinks it’ll buy him off with sweet and reasonable arguments. We’re always the same, hoping things will work out. We’re too used to winning, that’s our trouble; this time we might be in for a big surprise.’

It wasn’t long afterwards that Alfie received the call, and with a group of fellow islanders marched down to the jetty and sailed away, to become part of the 51st Highland Division, who were to see action at Dunkirk, the majority of whom would be taken prisoner.

Those who remained on the island did not delude themselves as to the probable goodwill that Hitler would have towards them, and yet those young men went to war; sacrificially for many, fatally for some. Their elder generation knew much about the hazards and horrors of the trenches, yet the young men joined up anyway and answered the call issued by their leaders to ‘follow me’ into the field of battle.

Going back in history, some two thousand years ago, and in a wholly different context, Jesus also issued a call, but this time to selected individuals, ‘Follow me’, and Peter, Andrew, James and John heard the call and heeded it, leaving all behind.

For them life would never be the same again, and they were indeed going into the unknown. They were people who had homes and livelihoods, a position in society. Who was to now meet the demand for fish or to pay the licence to fish the lake?

Where was the reassurance of the future that we all look for. We might ask how would this affect our lives or those of our children, our retirements and care in later life? Would we have been so willing to simply drop everything. Perhaps we would say there are too many unknowns.

The gospel does not provide a road map for this, yet Jesus asks that we follow him, to walk with him, in the same way he asked his disciples, and as he walks, he finds people where they are. ‘Follow me’ he says, ‘I will take what you know and transform it’.

Such walking demands a change of heart and commitment to self-giving love. The first disciples exchanged the familiar for an itinerant lifestyle. Most of us will be called to follow in the midst of our work, or family life. ‘Follow me’ is an fundamental requirement that challenges us at moments of decision and transition; it effects our material choices and our human interactions.

But equally we can place our trust in Jesus. We will make mistakes, misunderstand, and seek forgiveness. We are not simply re-enacting a back story, but instead we are being ourselves, bringing our own particular gifts to the work of compassion, reconciliation, and self-giving love.

Equally, as we place our trust in him, then no matter what the future holds for us, having given his life for us, he will never forsake or abandon or deny us. Yes, he may well lead us through the fields of Galilee, and into the waters of the River Jordan. He will undoubtedly take us across the Sea of Galilee and into the wildernesses of the Negev desert. He will lead us up the road from Jericho to Jerusalem and then along the Via Dolorosa until we come to our own personal Calvary.

But he will never fail us or forsake us; he will never let go of that hand which we place in his. We can trust Jesus with our lives, because knowing his story and living it changes us. We are called to share in a task, which for all its costliness brings hope.

Today on this Remembrance Sunday amongst other things we give thanks for the sacrifice of the millions who sacrificed their lives in two World Wars, and for those who are still caught up in war. For the men like Alfie and his father who answered a call to try and bring an end to hatred, greed and self-glorification and bring the world hope.

Sadly, the world is still in a state of flux but none the less without their sacrifice we would not be as we are now, living in freedom. The poppies that we shall soon set on the memorial, a memorial containing the names of those from this parish, are symbols of our thanks and tokens of our resolve to work for peace and to prevent any such need for sacrifice to be necessary again.

So may our prayers this morning, echo the words from a familiar hymn, ‘Make me a channel of your peace, where there is hatred let me bring your love, where there is despair in life let me bring hope and where there is doubt, true faith in you.’ Amen

Alfie Couzens is a fictional representation of the many who marched away to answer the call. His story is based on Findlay J Macdonald’s memoirs of his childhood in Harris in the Outer Hebrides called, Crowdie and Cream

When Heaven Touches Earth

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Sermon preached at Midnight Mass based on Isaiah 9:2-3, 6-7 and Luke 2: 1-14 .

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

‘It came upon the midnight clear’… ‘that glorious song of old, from angels bending near the earth to touch their harps of gold.’ The beginning of a poem by Edward Sears and tonight we are celebrating those angels bringing heaven to touch earth. Regretfully, we are not singing the carol of the same name this evening, but if you want to look at the words then you can find them as number 14 in your carol sheets [See full lyrics at end].

It’s 11:50, only a few more minutes and it will be midnight, and once again we will remember the baby born in a manger, over two thousand years ago. A baby born into a land where its people were subjugated to Roman rule; a people who were waiting for the long-expected Messiah, a people who for hundreds of years had only heard the silence of God’s voice in the darkness.

Now those same peoples were listening to the song of the angels and the glow escaping from a crack in the stable door would soon grow to be a blaze of light, flooding the people and nations with a new sense of God’s purpose – love.

Love was indeed the message that God wished to share with the world. A love so deep and so strong for his creation, that he emptied himself and came in flesh and was to live among us.

The hundreds of years of people turning away, of following their own ways would surely now end. Here in amongst them was the Christ child, God in person living with his people, experiencing their joys and their gladness, their pain and their suffering, and he would show them that there was a different way to live, that gave them the freedom they craved, a revolution that didn’t have to lead to their blood being shed, an eternity of peace for the whole world.

How then to get this radical new way of living underway. Announce the arrival of a new king to the rulers and leaders, those in authority who had the most influence, who could make things happen by decrees, and had the greatest communications network? That would indeed light a fuse to set ablaze the old way of doing things, but it would also meet the most opposition for those who felt threatened that their own power was under attack.

The fact is the smallest of lights shines brightest in the darkness and this was to begin as a grass roots revolution. In the dark of night Jesus was born and God knew exactly whom he needed to tell. Those whose position in society was not revered, ordinary people, doing an ordinary job, which some considered made them outcasts because after all who wants to associate with a ragbag bunch of smelly shepherds.

Yet on the hillsides of Bethlehem he sent his messengers, a heavenly host of angels, radiating the glory of God and singing of God’s love. The shepherds were not to be fearful, but to be filled with great joy – their Saviour was born and they were to go and find him in the most unlikely of places, so that they could testify what they had seen and heard to his family.

But most importantly, that they could return to their work, ‘glorifying and praising God’ as Luke tells us in the next part of his gospel. I often wonder what impact the shepherd’s story would have had when they told others about what had happened. Did they meet with total disbelief or did some hold that hope in their hearts that things would be different now?

The fact is we don’t really know much more about the baby that was to grow into a man and be revealed to the world in his epiphany moments. The hope that was revealed on that hillside would be raised again in a man who had grown up within an ordinary household, learned what it meant to be part of an ordinary family, with all of its trials and tribulations, learnt a trade, prepared to begin his mission of reuniting all peoples with God.

Surely, his authority would be established and his role as a peacekeeper would bring about this revolution of love… but humans are fickle and resistant to being told to submit to a greater power than themselves.

When Edward Sears wrote his poem in 1849, he was suffering from a spell of personal melancholy, living in Massachusetts, it seemed that the world had once more sunk to an all time low, with news of widespread social and political revolutions. Called the Springtime of the Peoples, some fifty countries in Europe had been affected by these uprisings including France, Prussia and Austria.

Class differentiation fuelled the realisation that the world was not a place where all were equal. For workers who had no choice but to spend half of their income on food, which consisted mostly of bread and potatoes, the failure of several harvests and widespread potato blight triggered mass starvation, migration, and civil unrest, most keenly felt in Ireland.

Hence, the ‘babel sounds’ and ‘the woes of sin and strife’ were enough to drown out the ‘heav’nly music. Yet still God’s messengers to the world came, ‘with peaceful wings unfurled.’ That was just one moment in human history, but how many others both before and after have blocked out God’s love song to his people.

We can all think of times within our own lifetimes when the wars and conflicts of ‘men of strife’ have pushed us to block our ears to hearing the message of the angels of ‘peace on earth’.

This very night there are those who will be trying to find the Christ child among the rubble and razor wire, as Christians in Manger Square in Bethlehem hold muted celebrations. Instead of a hay-filled manger their baby Jesus has been wrapped in a black and white keffiyeh and lies among broken breeze blocks and paving slabs.

Surely now is the time that we look beyond factions and cliques, beyond race and religion, beyond political power and military strength, beyond gender discrimination and racial hatred. These ‘crushing loads’ are not what life should be about. That is not the song that the angels sing.

Each of us has an opportunity to show God’s love to every single person that comes in contact with us. To share the Good News, and hope that they too will hear the song in our words and our actions and go and share it with others.

We too are the people walking in darkness, but we have also seen a great light. The light is shining all around us this Christmas Day and it is a light that will never be extinguished.

So let us rejoice together, and hear the angels sing, ‘for unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, authority rests upon his shoulders; and his name shall be called Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.’

Amen

It Came Upon The Midnight Clear by Edward Sear

It came upon the midnight clear,
that glorious song of old,
from angels bending near the earth
to touch their harps of gold:
“Peace on the earth, good will to men,
from heaven’s all-gracious King.”
The world in solemn stillness lay,
to hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come
with peaceful wings unfurled,
and still their heavenly music floats
o’er all the weary world;
above its sad and lowly plains,
they bend on hovering wing,
and ever o’er its Babel sounds
the blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife
The world has suffered long,
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled
Two thousand years of wrong;
And man, at war with man, hears not
The love-song which they bring—
O hush the noise, ye men of strife,
And hear the angels sing

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,
whose forms are bending low,
who toil along the climbing way
with painful steps and slow,
look now! for glad and golden hours
come swiftly on the wing.
O rest beside the weary road,
and hear the angels sing!

For lo! the days are hastening on,
by prophet seen of old,
when with the ever-circling years
shall come the time foretold
when peace shall over all the earth
its ancient splendours fling,
and the whole world send back the song
which now the angels sing.

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There Is Always Hope

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A thought for our Remembrance Sunday Service

When all else has gone there is always hope. When we hit rock bottom, there is always hope. When we can see no light at the end of the tunnel, there is always hope. Hope is the one think that we can be assured of because very often it is the only thing that is left when we feel that all hope has gone, which seems a real contradiction.

Today we are honouring the memory of the millions of men and women who answered the call of their country to fight against evil and oppression. Who fought to liberate innocent men, women, and children, caught up in conflicts whose agendas were against human rights, racially motivated or politically expedient.

From the First World War, we hear so many poignant stories of young men, barely adults (and sometimes not even that) taking up arms, marching away from their homes and villages, dreaming of being heroes and finding themselves in what might be described as the depths of hell on the Western Front.

From the Second World War, with more sophisticated weaponry, aviators took to the skies, using their planes like the infantry had used swords and bayonets in dog fights. Flying long range missions to drop bombs on strategic targets to try and disrupt and demoralise those targeted. Until the ultimate weapon of destruction was unleashed.

From more recent conflicts, in Afghanistan and the Middle East, trying to establish basic human rights for young men and in particular young women and today we find ourselves living in a world where once more innocent children and civilians are living in fear for their lives, for their families and for the future.

Wars are designed to spread fear, to crush resistance and to demonstrate both physical and psychological power, but the one thing they can never defeat is the hope of peace and restoration.

Today men and women of all faiths and none in our armed services, answer the call to bring about peace in the face of war and terror. They are willing to sacrifice their lives, if necessary; but as Christians we have the ultimate hope through the sacrificial death and resurrection of Jesus, that even death will not be the end.

For the Thessalonians, Paul was reassuring them that they should not be grieving deaths in their community without hope. If this life is all we have, then its end in death produces considerable grief. However, Paul says that if you believe that Jesus died and was raised (the basic Christian affirmation the Thessalonians had accepted), then you can also believe that God will raise our loved ones. Those who also believed in the death and resurrection of Christ are caught up into his eternal life.

Paul refers to Jesus’ own words, that the Son of Man will return in the clouds with the angels gathering the elect from the four corners of the earth to meet him and at this point the dead and the living will be gathered as one.

This is the hope that trumps all other hopes.

However, later this morning we will gather together to remember all those who have died in war and conflicts, those of our families and the unknown soldiers, sailors, and aviators. To honour their memory. Those long dead and those killed in more recent clashes.

We will remember that: ‘they shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.’

But above we will pray for peace to be the hope of all nations, that there will be no more killing of innocent civilians and children, that we respect the sanctity of human life because our common belief is that all life is precious to God and in him is our greatest hope.

Amen

Based on 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

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Advent Waiting

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Sermon given on Sunday 27th November 2022 on the 1st Sunday in Advent based on the following readings: Matthew 24:36-44 and Isaiah 2:1-5

May I speak and may you hear, through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen

Today we enter a new season in the church calendar. Our old church year has ended and a new one has begun. The colours around us have also changed, there are purples and pinks and candles to light – one at a time – increasing light coming into a time of shortened days and winter darkness. A feeling of anticipation and rising excitement. Yet we have to wait!

Waiting… the action of staying where one is… time passing… expecting something to happen… until one day it does! Advent, a time of waiting, of hope, of anticipation. We hear in St Paul’s letter to the Galatians, ‘when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son’

Advent is the church in waiting… the church’s annual reminder of what Christians worldwide anticipate in the days leading up to Christmas. We wait for Christmas as Israel waited centuries for a Saviour. Waiting for God to fulfil his covenant, for a virgin’s son of Abraham’s line, a descendant of Isaac, Jacob and David, for a branch from the root of Jesse, for a baby born in Bethlehem called Immanuel.

For generations, God’s people waited for the fulfilment of countless Old Testament prophecies of a Saviour, who would light up this world brighter than any Magi’s star. A Saviour, who was to be called Jesus, the long-awaited hope in a dark and sinful world. The true light, that gives light to every single human, was coming into the world.

As Christians wait for the light of Christmas, the four advent candles are lit with each week’s passing, but we know that our hoping and waiting doesn’t stop at Christmas, because he will return at the last day, a second advent.

Today, it is that second advent that we are thinking about. A time of waiting that equates with that of Israel. Waiting and not knowing when these prophetic events will take place. We can image that it is unlikely to happen in our lifetime, or without knowing it, it could happen before I get to the end of this sermon…. ‘Therefore, keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.’ So, if you all disappear before my very eyes, I’ll know I wasn’t fully prepared!

It is from the Old Testament that we hear of what will happen in the last days, perhaps a more leisurely climax to the end of time and spoken in the beautiful prophetic language of Isaiah.

On a mountain higher than any we might have stood on and from which caught a glimpse of the awe and wonder of God. A mountain whose peak brushes against the thin veil of heaven, ready at any moment to tear a hole through which the Saviour can return.

From the very beginning of humankind there was but one nation, the nation of Eden. However, human rights, economic disparities and land disputes forced the people to spread to each and every corner of the world, creating nations that forgot the principle of working together for the common good or acknowledging their divine creator.

Then, on a mountain that will stand so prominently above all others, on which the gathering place of the people of God will be built, the nations will stream towards it. I was once given an image by one of my lecturers, Mark Chapman at Cuddesdon theological college, of a smooth sphere spinning in space out of which streams of people, like spumes of gas were escaping and forming new spheres, that bumped and grated against each other, but that how, at the end of time it would be as if the image was being rewound and those streams of people would be sucked back so that eventually the original sphere would take shape, not so smooth, but one single spinning object in infinity.

And the reason that people will want to climb the mountain and will encourage others to come with them, is so that the God of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, Daniel, Peter, James, Paul, Augustine, Francis, Theresa, Luther, Sacks, Mohammed and of you and me, can teach us once more to walk in the ways that He intended us to.

A time of preparation, before Jesus, the Word of God, undertakes his role as the final judge of the people, settling disputes and bringing the nations back into harmony, so that there will be no need of wars, no need for the machinery and weaponry of conflict, no need for military tacticians or economic masters.

Instead, for those who have re-turned to, re-tuned into and re-stored the one true faith, the light of God will shine on them so that they will appear like beacons of hope in the darkness.

It’s a beautiful picture, and one we might dismiss as poetic licence, an Old Testament allegory designed to give hope to the peoples of Israel and Judah who were in dispute, and who had been subjugated by the Babylonians. Yet this same image of a gathering of the nations and the formation of a new earth and heaven is given to us by John in his vision in Revelation, ‘I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple… The nations will walk by its light and… the glory and honour of the nations will be brought into it,’ and for each and every person, ‘they will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God.’

Yet, none of this calls for complacency. Today, tomorrow, next year or whenever… we can’t just simply wait… the things that are foreseen are also the things that we should be striving for each and every day, to work together as individuals and as a global nation, to do all we can to bring about peace between the nations on earth, to teach people the way of God, so that all can be restored

So, this year during Advent, as we continue to watch and pray for our Saviour to come again let us also make plans, whether in the long term or short term… who knows… to prepare ourselves and our world for the smoothest transition and be truly ready, ‘because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him’.

Amen.

Lamenting Jerusalem…

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Grieving Lady – Lynn Greyling

Sermon preached on the 2nd Sunday of Lent 2022 based on Luke 13:31-35, Philippians 3:17-4:1 and Psalm 27

May I speak and may you hear through the Grace of our Lord; Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen

I wonder how many times, like me, you have wept when waking up, sitting to read, or listening to and watching the news recently? We have wept for the people and cities of whom we have hardly heard of a few weeks ago. For Kviv, for Mariupol, for Kharkiv and Sumy. We have wept for the humanitarian crisis unfolding before our very eyes; for the misinformation being spread as a means to retain power; for the destruction of life and liberty.

Even so, we must also weep for the peoples and city of Moscow because as we hear today in our gospel reading Jesus will weep with grief over his beloved city of Jerusalem, but his will also be tears of frustration and notice of intent.

Our reading begins with a warning and open threat of violence against Jesus. The Pharisees, knowledgeable about Jewish law and tradition would have been scrutinising Jesus carefully, ready to challenge his behaviour and teachings, and were openly colluding with the Herodians to destroy Jesus. They were gathering their evidence, whether it was because on the Sabbath, his disciples had gleaned grain or Jesus had healed a man’s withered hand. (Matthew 12 1-14)

Their warning was likely to be a taunt rather than concern for his safety and Jesus was having none of it. Certainly, his description of Herod as ‘that fox’ shows he knows the man’s true character. Herod Antipas, son of Herod the Great, was a crafty, cunning, cruel and deceitful ruler. He cared little for others and greatly about himself. He had already had John the Baptist imprisoned and beheaded, was desperate to see Jesus (Luke 9:9) but he now wants his potential rival dead.  

This threat, however, was not going to deflect Jesus from his mission of redemption. Rulers like Herod will not stand the test of time. Jesus still has work to do, and his eyes are fixed firmly on Jerusalem and the way to the cross. He understands his main opposition will be in that city. A city that has rejected and killed God’s prophets time and time again as they have sought to bring his message of peace and reconciliation. For Jesus, Jerusalem has to be the place where his mission comes to its completion. It’s perhaps interesting to note that his phrase, ‘it is impossible for a prophet to be killed away from Jerusalem’ doesn’t mean that there were never any prophets who died elsewhere; rather that it was not acceptable – ouk endechetai that a prophet should die away from that city.

The context of this pronouncement is the failure of Jerusalem and the wickedness of its leaders. Those in authority had strayed far God and were actually hindering his work. Hence, we have this beautiful image of a compassionate Jesus’ desire to protect and shelter the people, like a hen gathers her chicks under her wings, but Jerusalem seeks to prevent even this.

No wonder Jesus’ tears are of frustration. The city’s rejection of protection for the people tells us that they will ultimately reject Jesus himself. However, it is their house that is forsaken and there will be an ultimate reckoning when Jesus returns and delivers the final judgement.

Paul assures us in his letter to the Philippians, that those who reject Jesus and the cross, face destruction for their reliance on earthly things ‘their god is the belly; and their glory is in their shame.’ Surely then all we have to do is to rest on the laurels of our salvation, to stand firm in our faith and to reject the ways of the secular world. Well we could, but I think I’d be trying to wriggle my way out of the judgement line to keep moving to the back of the line to delay coming face to face with Jesus if I chose to do that.

Our faith is a living active thing. However helpless we feel when faced by situations beyond our immediate control, there are still things that we can do to model Jesus and to boldly proclaim the good news of the gospel and bring those who raise up war to justice.

In our Lent course this week we looked at reactive and active justice. Obviously written to highlight the many injustices that are happening in our world and which we shouldn’t forget about. It speaks about our natural response is that of compassion. To do something that will bring immediate relief to a situation. To donate to relief agencies, to look at opening our homes to refugees, to mitigate the false news on social media.

Yet, it has to be more than that. The majority of us live in real comfort and yes, we may have to face deprivations of less travel and higher food prices which might mean we cut out our treats; but it will also mean that we balance our needs against those of our neighbour… We can be active in telling our government and politicians what direction we want to travel. We can sign petitions and write to local MPs to show support for those campaigning for justice

Ruth Valerio, who works for Tearfund, and is a social activist as well as a environmentalist and theologian, gave a really simple way for us to breech the gap in what we can do. Give – Act – Pray. Give what we can, either money or time – Act by getting involved more – and Pray. We should never underestimate the power of prayer.

The war in Ukraine, the totalitarian regimes in Afghanistan, Yemen and North Korea, the bloodshed in Saudi Arabia all these things will pass as history shows us. But we mustn’t let them just pass us by. Jesus was not afraid of Herod and was not afraid of Jerusalem because He was confident that he was doing the will of God

The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom then shall I fear?
The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom then shall I be afraid?
Amen

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