Sermon - Baptism of Our Lord 2022

Sermon - Baptism of Our Lord 2022

Each of the gospels gives us a different portrait of John the Baptist. In the Gospel of John (different John), John the Baptist declares Jesus to be the messiah, and cries out ‘Behold the lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world’. Interestingly, in John’s gospel, Jesus does not actually get baptised. John is (we think) the last gospel to be written. But what about the first?

In Mark, we meet John clothed in camel’s hair and eating locusts and wild honey. John the Baptist is portrayed as the forerunner of Christ, preparing the way for him.

In Matthew, John the Baptist gets snippy. ‘You brood of vipers!’ is how he famously describes the Pharisees and Sadducees. Today we might say ‘a mob of snakes’.

Sermon for Epiphany 2022

Sermon for Epiphany 2022

Most of the time, being an Anglican is a very ‘mixed bag’. We are, after all, the church of Empire, complicit in the colonial enterprise – derived from a state church with an hereditary monarch as Supreme Governor. We’re not quite Catholic and not quite protestant, and our favourite activity is shooting our wounded.

But we are also the church of Desmond Tutu. Tutu was one of those Anglican leaders who meant we could hold our heads high. His exuberant energy, his terrific sense of humour, his confrontation of systemic evil, and his unswerving commitment to reconciliation and peacemaking. He was the best of us. He wasn’t just a social justice warrior or a preacher – he was also a spiritual being. His life was shaped by prayer and by sharing, usually daily, in the Eucharist. In a sea of bland episcopal functionaries - Tutu was a bishop with passion and vision and a fire in his guts. His vision lives on in myriad ways, but his loss to the Anglican movement cuts me pretty deeply, I have to admit.

Sermon for Christmas 2021

Sermon for Christmas 2021

Earlier in the year we had a parish fire drill. It was quite a jolly affair, with a nice little briefing beforehand, lots of laughter, and when it was over we were all allowed to have morning tea.

Yesterday, at the Park Hotel in Melbourne, there was an actual fire. The people in the hotel didn’t make their way calmly to the muster point and await further instructions. Instead, they were contained on the ground floor while smoke from the fire above billowed around them. The doors weren’t broken. The people in the Park hotel are people seeking asylum, and have been imprisoned one way or another for eight long years. Covid has ravaged their hotel prison, with shared rooms, shared facilities, and nowhere to hide. Clearly, even an actual fire isn’t serious enough to merit the most basic safety measures. It’s inhumane.

Sermon Advent 3 2021

I’ve worked in five independent schools. Each one was different in their own way, but they shared one unshakeable, incontrovertible belief in common: students who wore the uniform correctly would, by extension, behave correctly.

I can’t tell you how many times I told a student to tuck their shirt in, tie their hair back, pull their socks up, take off that jewellery, go to the toilets and wipe the mascara off, or wear their blazer. The idea was that if the rules about personal grooming and presentation were observed strictly, this would have a flow-on effect to all the other rules, and the students would be more respectful and compliant.

Now, I haven’t done a scientific study, but anecdotally I can confirm that strictly-enforced uniform rules absolutely do not make for better behaved students. A student who wears their blazer over a neatly-pressed uniform can be a vindictive, nasty piece of work. A slovenly student may well be kinder, more generous and more honest. I think, by and large, the behaviour of school students depends less on the rigid uniform enforcement, and more on the atmosphere and expectations fostered by the staff. But maybe there’s data that suggests otherwise?

Today we heard from a portion of the book of the prophet Zephaniah. We read the ‘happy ending’. The faithful remnant have been saved, and God is gathering them together. But if we only read the happy ending, we miss the angry beginning. The book of the prophet Zephaniah is three chapter long, and two and half of those chapters are Zephaniah viciously declaring God’s judgement on the Southern Kingdom, particularly Jerusalem. He is prophesying during the time of King Josiah. Eventually, King Josiah will institute reforms and tear down the altars of Baal. But he hasn’t got there yet, and Zephaniah is having a lot of feelings.

According to Zephaniah, God is going to destroy Jerusalem. There will be weeping and wailing. The city will be left in ruins and wild animals will move in. The Day of the Lord is coming. ‘Their blood shall be poured out like dust and their flesh like dung’. Nothing will protect them from the fire of God’s judgement. There will be a small remnant who are rescued, and only they will be know God’s safety and protection.

Why will this happen? Because the people have begun to worship Baal and other cultic deities instead of the one true God. The extreme language of the prophecy is intended to shock people out of their complacency, and back into proper worship. This worship isn’t just the restoration of proper rituals at the Temple. Zephaniah is also concerned about those who believe that gold and silver will save them, and those who lack humility and righteousness. Right worship and right behaviour are, for Zephaniah, inseparable. The two complement and support one another. 

John the Baptist, at his alternative dunking station at the Jordan River, has a similar view. Clearly, the Temple authorities are corrupt. But so are many of the people who come to him seeking purification. They are not sharing their possessions and food. They are practicing extortion. He does not distinguish between the corruption of the powerful elites, the corruption of the temple ceremonies, and the corruption of the ordinary person. 

John declares that one is coming after him. And he uses the same fiery, angry language that Zephaniah used – ‘His winnowing-fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing-floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.’

Most of us, I suspect, would prefer a neat and tidy faith. The kind of faith that goes to an independent school and tucks it shirt in. Many of us would also prefer a neat and tidy God – understandably we like to hear more about a God of parental nurture, and less about a God of unhinged anger.

But this angry, aggressive, perhaps excessive language, whether from Zephaniah or John the Baptist or from Jesus himself is intended to give us a shock. To make us uncomfortable, uneasy, even afraid. Because it is not enough to only have a faith that looks nice and offends no one. Just because our socks are pulled up and we wear only a single ribbon in our hair, it doesn’t mean that we are fully worshipping the One True God.

The Day of the Lord is coming, says Zephaniah, and John, and Jesus, and the church, and Advent. We will be called upon to give an account of our behaviour. What we did with our silver and gold. What we do with our possessions and food. What we have done with our power, privilege, influence and authority. The point is not to run away screaming, but to recommit to God’s love and justice, even when everyone around us is worshipping idols.

The Lord Be With You

Sermon, Advent 2 2021

The Jesus we meet in the gospels is in direct conflict with the Temple elites – the priests and the scribes. There was a large bureaucracy who directed access to the Temple rituals, and Jesus routinely criticised them and encouraged people to adhere to the covenant, even when the Temple authorities didn’t. John the Baptiser went a step further. He set up a rival purification process, one which was free and outside of the Temple control. He preached that people didn’t need to pay to use one the Temple’s mikveh, purification bath, but they could be dunked in the river instead. 

When we hear about this conflict, criticism and rivalry, with John and Jesus on one side and the Temple one the other, it is tempting to view John and Jesus as somehow operating outside of Judaism, or perhaps evolving beyond the faith of the Hebrew people. Centuries of anti-semitism have lent endorsement to that view. But John and Jesus were not inviting their disciples to move away from God’s covenant with the Israelites. They were demanding that the people live more fully as people of the covenant. They taught that the true covenant was not just adherence to particular rules and customs, but it was also a state of mind, a way of life, a true commitment from the heart. Whenever they criticise the Temple and it’s staff, it is not for being too faithful, but for being not faithful enough. 

This was not a new thing.

After the exiles returned from Babylon, they re-established the Temple. We call this the Second Temple period. It lasted more than five hundred years, and ended with the destruction of the Temple in 70CE. Way back at the start of the Second Temple period, the prophet Malachi was active. And boy oh boy, did he have some feelings.

To the priests at the flash new Temple, God, speaking through Malachi, says that they have offered ‘polluted food’ on the altar. Instead of clean, healthy animal sacrifices, they are offering sick and lame animals. God is going to - it’s all there in Malachi Chapter 2, read it for yourself – collect up the poo from the dodgy offerings, smear it on the priest’s faces, and boot them out the Temple. Subtle, right? 

In the portion of Malachi that we heard today, God declares that a messenger is coming who is going to clean things up. Like a refining fire, or like bleach (which is the nearest thing we have to fullers soap). The messenger is going to clean things up, and it won’t be a gentle process. If we kept reading after today’s portion, we would hear that God’s very self is then going to get involved – judging sorcerers, adulterers, those who enter into false contracts, those who engage in wage theft, those who mistreat widows, orphans and foreigners. 

Malachi, speaking with the voice of God, is furious, and he doesn’t muck around. These temple bozos had better look out, because God is angry too.

When I was in Palestine and Israel in 2015, my belt broke. So I went to a menswear shop. I got to chatting to the belt salesman, who was an Israeli Jew who was pleased to learn that I am a Christian. From under the counter he pulled out a book with a set of diagrams in it. The diagrams were for the Third Temple, which he believed would be built on Haram El Sharif, the Temple Mount, where Al Aqsa Mosque is currently located. Now, I was just there to buy a belt, so I didn’t start a debate. But I knew enough of the context to recognise that I was actually caught in a weird, belt-induced collision of geo-politics and religion. In 1948, when Israel was invaded and re-settled by Jews from all over the world, there was no desire to build a third Temple. In fact, the Zionist movement was almost entirely secular. Likewise, those Christians who supported Zionism weren’t interested in building a new Temple. But now, among both Christians and Jews, there is a significant minority who are anxious to reclaim the Temple mount, demolish the mosques and the Dome of the Rock, and restart Temple sacrifices. The menorah for the Temple has already been built, and it’s inside a glass case overlooking the Western Wall where many Jews go to pray.

Now, let’s be clear, the ambition for a Third Temple is a fringe belief in both Christianity and Judaism. But it is growing. And I worry that it points to a worldview in which power must be seized at any cost, and in which any amount of violence is acceptable, provided it leads to the appearance of victory.

I worry that the strange but growing obsession with building a Third Temple is a re-emergence of precisely the corruption that Malachi, John and Jesus all struggled against.

But this isn’t really about the Second Temple, or the bizarre vision for a Third Temple. This is really about us.

Do we make blemished offerings to God? Of course we do. We rarely give our best when it comes to loving our neighbour, or serving those in poverty, or welcoming strangers. Do we deviate from the path God has laid out for us? Of course we do. We try, but usually fail, to be people of compassion and peace and justice. And do act like those priests at the Temple, so focused on the appearance of holiness, that we neglect true holiness? Do we try to create the image of righteousness, instead of being truly righteous? Are we ever fake, keeping up appearances, whacking on costumes and makeup to conceal the less glamorous reality? Yep!

So we have Advent to give us a bit of a reality check. In Advent, we can’t just string up some tinsel and ignore the reality of God’s judgement. All the language of refiner’s fire and fuller’s soap, of the Day of Judgement and Christ returning in glory is not meant to make us quake in our boots. It is meant to give us perspective. All power, all righteousness, all victory, belongs to God – and God’s priority is love and justice, and God’s chief concern are the poor, the orphans and the widows. 

All the cheap thrills, the keeping up of appearances, the need to impress or prove ourselves, all the petty rivalries and pointless arguments, all become insignificant when we see the world through God’s eyes and with God’s priorities.

The Lord Be With You

Sermon, Advent 1 2021

Sermon, Advent 1 2021

To ‘disappear’ someone is one of the favoured tactics of despots and tyrants. Nelson Mandela was imprisoned. Aang Sung Suu Kyi was put under house arrest. Itai Dzamara criticised Robert Mugabe, never to be seen again. The list goes on.

It’s not just nation states who ‘disappear’ people. Workplaces will often have someone clear their desk, then be escorted from the building by security, while their email account is frozen and a clear message is sent that they are persona non grata.

Sermon, Christ the King 2021

Sermon, Christ the King 2021

We know we have a Queen – she’s on our money. We still sometimes receive mail marked O.H.M.S – On Her Majesty’s Service. There’s still such a thing as crown land. But our Queen (whom we remember in prayer during this time of poor health) is not really like the kings and queens of most of human history. She has a palace and a crown and title, but not a lot of real power.

Sermon Sunday 14 November

Sermon Sunday 14 November

The poetically inclined among you will perhaps have recognised this passage as the first half of William Butler Yeats’ poem titled “The second coming", a poem that has something of an apocalyptic flavour, much like our Gospel reading today. This apocalyptic flavour is perhaps unsurprising in both cases. For Yeats, writing his poem in the early 1920s, he looked out on a world that had been marred by war, uprisings, revolutions, and yes, a raging pandemic, so perhaps it is unsurprising that he felt that things were falling apart. While there is, of course, some scholarly disagreement (there always is), it is generally accepted that the Gospel, according to Mark, was written in around 70CE, at a time in Palestine when tensions with the occupying Romans finally reached a violent breaking point. This breaking point ultimately led to the destruction of the 2nd temple in Jerusalem; it does indeed seem that:

Sermon Sunday 7 November

Sermon Sunday 7 November

In 1987 Ronald Reagan delivered a speech in West Berlin which included the memorable line ‘Mr Gorbachev, tear down this wall!’. Just over two years later, the Berlin Wall began to be demolished and in 1991 the USSR was dissolved. If someone asked you back then ‘who won the Cold War’ the answer would, unequivocally be ‘The United States’.

Sermon All Saints Day

Sermon All Saints Day

Sadly, I will be with St Cuthbert’s Youth this evening, so I won’t be home to greet any children who appear dressed as Spiderman or a princess (or a Spiderman Princess) to demand lollies and chocolate. I confess I have a pure, dinky-di, visceral distaste for Halloween, which is odd because I have an equally pure, visceral passion for sugary treats. What I do l like about Halloween and its pagan predecessor Samhain (pronounced Sowin) is that it is a night of the year about fear, darkness, death and the end of the world. When Samhain was co-opted by European Christianity as All Hallows Eve, it kept all the delicious spooky parts as a precursor to the more sedate feast day of All Hallows Day, which falls tomorrow but which we observe today. The lectionary has blessed us with a first reading about the end of the world and a second reading about death and mortality. Just the cheery topic for a nice spring day in the hills.

Announcement

Our Rector, The Reverend Chris Bedding, has announced that he will conclude ministry in the parish on Sunday 30 January 2022.

He has written to the parish saying:

After eleven years as Rector of Darlington-Bellevue, I will be concluding this ministry on Sunday 30 January 2022. My time among you has been both rewarding and challenging. I believe it is now time for the parish to have fresh leadership and for me to move into a new season of life. In the new year, I will be embracing the life of a 'worker priest' - engaged in some aspects of ministry, but earning a living as a freelance organiser, trainer, supervisor and artist.

Inevitably, 2022 will be a year of some uncertainty for the parish, however I am confident that the parish's ministry, mission, liturgy, finances and infrastructure are secure. I will work with the Wardens and Parish Council to ensure a smooth handover.

The Nominators of Clergy are Lynne Evans, Jan Carroll, Philip Daniels and Caroline Bird. They will form a Nomination Board with Bishop Jeremy James, Archdeacon Tony Drayton and two other clergy of the diocese. The Nomination Board will ultimately nominate a new Rector to the Archbishop. This process will take at least three months, but probably longer. During the intervening period, the Archbishop will ensure continuity of priestly ministry to the parish.

I will be leaving this community with a deep sense of pride and solidarity. We have stood beside one another in times of grief and celebrated joyful moments together. We have united for justice and worked for an inclusive church. Through the scriptures and the sacraments, God has nourished us in a faith that is both credible and progressive. This time has been a deep privilege.

This Sunday we will celebrate All Saints Day with the Eucharist and Evensong, and soon Advent and Christmas will be upon us. There will be time for reminiscing and farewells. But I also urge you to look forward with hope for the future, and sustain your commitment to our parish through the coming time of transition.

In solidarity,

Father Chris

Sermon Sunday 10 October 2021

Mark 10:17-31

Just over a week ago I flew to Tasmania for a short holiday. I am a Qantas Frequent Flyer, so I clicked the button where I could ask to be upgraded to business class for each flight. It’s always a bit of the roll of a dice, but now and then you can use your points to move out of cattle class and sit amongst the beautiful people.

Now, I don’t want to upset anyone, or brag, or big note myself, but I can report that I was upgraded on my flight from Perth to Hobart, AND I was upgraded on my flight from Hobart to Perth. 

I should tell you that COVID has ravaged business class flying, and the cuisine and wine list have been greatly diminished. Business class is not what it once was. I’m sure that you are full of sympathy for me.

Being rich is wonderful, isn’t it? Sometimes we get a little taste of it. You know, a posh meal somewhere or a fancy hotel room, or flying business or first class? It’s terrific. Christianity, of course, arose among the poor and for the early centuries membership was predominantly drawn from the poor. But since at least the time of the Emperor Constantine, there have been Christians among the most wealthy and powerful. But most of us – most of you – aren’t really in the 1%. I don’t think there’s anyone in this congregation who would describe themselves as rich. 

So when the gospel of Mark introduces a man who ‘has many possessions’, and goes on to say ‘how hard it will be for those who have wealth to enter the kingdom of God!’ most of us don’t think ‘oh that applies to me’. Most of us perceive ourselves neither as poor or rich. Like Goldilock’s porridge, we are just right.

Now, you probably know where I am going with this, and you’ve probably already worked it out for yourself. The truth is that all of us are here today, by global and historical standards, rich. The rule of thumb is, if you have access to a clean flushing toilet, you’re rich. And I know that some of you even have TWO flushing toilets. So, when the Jesus of the gospels talks about riches or wealth, he is not excluding us. We are included. 

The man with many possessions was confident that he had followed all the commandments. He was almost dismissive of Jesus’ invitation to consider his life in the light of the commandments. ‘I have kept all these since my youth’ he declares – which is a fairly brazen thing to say. I mean, would you feel confident saying you’ve kept all the ten commandments flawlessly since you were a kid? I wouldn’t. Crikey, I wouldn’t be confident saying I’ve kept the commandments since I got out of bed this morning. But this fella thinks he’s the cat’s pyjamas, and is entitled to entry to the new world that Jesus is proclaiming.

Jesus has a different view.

This guy is probably a perfectly nice guy. He’s probably hasn’t murdered his grandmother or drowned kittens, but he’s also not perfect. His sense of entitlement is pretty strong. He’s arrogant. So Jesus makes it clear that there are no minimum standards to be met. You can’t just tick the boxes and enter the kingdom, it actually requires a sacrifice and change of life. 

The man with many possessions is essentially asking ‘what is the least I can do?’. ‘What’s the absolute rock bottom bare minimum I can do to get the good thing you’ve got? Jesus’ response, to sell everything he owns and give it to the poor, make it clear that this is not a process of meeting minimum standards. The deeper we get into the kingdom, the more we learn, the more we grow, and the more is asked of us. We never reach a point of perfection. We are never complete, we are always a work in progress.

So if you and I are works in progress, the question today is not ‘should I flog all my stuff and give it away’ but rather ‘what is the next step on my journey towards the kingdom’. 

So what is your next step? Is it something to do with possessions, and your relationship with money? Is it something to do with prayer? Is there some unresolved resentment or conflict you need to work on, or some harm of which you need to repent? Is there something you’ve been putting off, or something you know you need to do (or not do)? 

We must never rest on our laurels, and think we have ‘made it’. We never get to the point of saying we are fully mature, fully grown, fully spiritually healthy. There’s always another step to take on the journey. The good thing about each step is that it is not just taking on more work, more duties, more tasks. We in fact take on more freedom, more hope and more opportunity for love and compassion. The many with many possessions was shocked went away grieving. But we don’t have to be like him. When God invites us to let go, to change and to grow, we can embrace this opportunity whole-heartedly. 

 It will never be easy, but it will always be good, and draw us closer to the kingdom of God.

 The Lord Be With You