Sermons - July 2024

SUNDAY 7^th JULY 2024 11.00 a.m.
MORNING WORSHIP & BAPTISMS
(7^th SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST)

They said, ‘Where did this man get all this?
Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary 
and brother of James and Joses and Judas and Simon,
and are not his sisters here with us?’ And they took offence at him. Mark 6

Prompted by the presence of Rupert, on his baptismal Sunday,
Mindful of the symbolic walk, just undertaken down the aisle,
the smiling pews, the introduction to his new family of faith,
we might consider other infant encounters.

I think of my daughter at an early stage on London buses –
a smile from her, usually eliciting a return smile from a stranger.
Inevitably, sometimes, she would look, but the stranger would not look back.
She might try harder – but the mobile phone held a stronger lock.
At the time, as a parent, I would feel bad that the child had to learn that lesson –
not everybody will respond well to her.
Life /the world will get a whole lot more complicated.
But also, the feeling feel that the stranger had missed out;
too preoccupied for the benediction of a child’s curiosity or smile.
Smile or ignore, reciprocate or reject;
the actions or attitudes - the choices - within today’s Gospel.

Homecoming day in Nazareth; day to celebrate,
enjoy the reflected glory of a local hero.
Since Jesus began his travelling ministry things have gone rapidly,
rumours and reputation taking wing.
They have heard of the healings.
He has just raised the synagogue leader’s daughter from apparent death.
Surely, the force is with him.
Initially, all is well. On the Sabbath, in the synagogue of his youth,
people listen attentively and nod their heads in approval.
Nice words for a Nazarite – wise, profound, eloquent and true.

But here in hometown, folks have a problem.
Who changes the mood in the synagogue?
A jealous neighbour of Mary, a childhood rival of Jesus; the village gossip?
Somewhere it starts, perhaps with the classic put down: “I kent his faither.”
Actually, there is no mention of his father,
but rather a deliberate dwelling on his mother:
Is not this the carpenter, the son of Mary….?
In Jesus’ day, the only reason to identify someone by their mother,
was to question their legitimacy. 
(“Sapping God’s Strength,” Barbara Brown Taylor.)
To refer to Jesus as “the son of Mary” is a calculated act,
an intended take-down, to shame Jesus into silence.
“Hey Mary’s boy; we know who you are. Just remember your place.”

Apparently, the ones who knew Jesus best, could not treasure him most.
They take offence at him.
Their imaginations could not/would not expand,
to consider a bigger possibility about him.
The gospels are full of Jesus and the miraculous,
but here is the tale of the un-miracle.
With grim finality Mark concludes: “He could do no deed of power there.”

Which interrogates us:
What things of the sacred do we miss out on,
because we can only imagine, or will only accept,
that God can speak to us in preconceived,
well-worn patterns or personalities?

Retired Church of Scotland minister, Tom Gordon
described attending a service of worship,
where to be honest, he wasn’t expecting much.
“I hadn’t been well and was still feeling out of sorts.
I knew that the worship would be OK, enough, at least, to “keep me going.”

A woman stepped to the front of the congregation.
“The second reading,” she said. 
Epistle, Gospel, I thought. Standard stuff. Heard it before. I wonder what version. Sigh … 
“is different from usual,” she continued. 
Interesting. I wonder … “… and we’ve chosen a contemporary lesson.
So, the reading is from The House at Pooh Corner, by A A Milne.”
“Now, I was all ears, fully attentive.
Halfway through, I had a tear in my eye.
It was so lovely, and different, and unexpected, and right,
and it ended with these words:

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
“Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand.
“I just wanted to be sure of you.”

Tom Gordon concluded: “I don’t know why these words affected me so much.
But they did …. They opened up a new direction for my thoughts,
(which, quite possibly, a familiar Gospel or Epistle reading would have failed to do.)
Truth was revealed in a contemporary lesson.
The Word – God’s Word, if we wish to label it as such –
refused to be confined.

Tales of/from the unexpected?
Elsewhere, much has been written about Taylor Swift, pop mega-star,
and her current Eras concert tour, described by some as a spiritual experience.
Journalist, Sarah Carson: “Seeing Taylor Swift live,
feels like we are singing along to the soundtrack to our lives, not hers.”
Peter Millar, former Warden of Iona Abbey wrote recently
about the significance of figures such as Taylor Swift,
in understanding contemporary spirituality.
“I think it may be true to say that thousands of the young people
who follow her and are moved by her songs
would know very little about traditional faith whether Christian or other.
In Edinburgh, over three days, her singing touched the lives of 165,000 people
from diverse backgrounds.
Compare that with a recent study
indicating that the total membership of the National Church of Scotland was 66,000.”

“These numbers indicate not that God is absent from our world
but that there are many different ways of understanding transcendence.
There are many authentic mentors in our world
and young people like Taylor Swift are among them.
We may not be into pop music in any way
but what is necessary for us all in our times
is to have an exploratory heart and mind
when it comes to matters of faith and institutional religion.”
(Vilayat Inayat Khan (1916-2004), a teacher of meditation and of the traditions of Sufism):
“The human spirit lives on creativity and dies in conformity and routine”.

Pooh, Piglet, Taylor Swift –
there may be some eye-brow rolling in the pews this morning –
but what voices do we sideline,
because they don’t fit our image of what God might be saying;
what unlikely candidates do we ignore as messengers of the Divine?

So, things didn’t go well on that day of homecoming;
Jesus responds in two ways.
Firstly, he is amazed at their unbelief.
Clearly, he expected different –
faith, commitment, dedication, sacrifice? He got none of these.
A reminder, not even Jesus can secure all the desired outcomes.
He experiences failure and defeat –
we have perhaps to conclude that may be/will be the lot of his disciples –
then and now.

But Jesus carries on regardless.
Rejection and disbelief in Nazareth don’t cancel/devalue the worth of the gospel.
There are other people in the surrounding villages.
Carrying his disappointment lightly,
equilibrium maintained, confidence unshaken,
He perseveres.
He does not demand ‘honour’, nor wait for it.
He moves on, healing and preaching.
And he commissions others to do the same.
Strangers at home; instead, let them be home among strangers.
He sends them in pairs; telling them to go humbly, as guests, not hosts.

One more unexpected/outside voice:
This week, in the space of a handful of days, this central space, at the heart of our sanctuary, has seen assembled school musicians, a baptism, a bride and groom
and a coffin.
Illustration of how, “All of life” is housed beneath a single broad roof.

Mortality, and our response to it,
was powerfully spoken about in a radio interview this week with Simon Boas.
An Aid Worker, part-time Samaritan, married man,
in September 2023, aged forty six, he was diagnosed with terminal throat cancer.
Over the following year, he knitted together his reflections on life into a book –
A Beginner's Guide to Dying.
The book is due for publication in October.
It will be a posthumous publication.

In response to the question: “How are you?”
Boas’ interview began: “My pain is under control and I'm terribly happy –
it sounds weird to say, but I'm as happy as I've ever been in my life.
The book is called A Beginner's Guide to Dying,
but really what I'm trying to convey
is how enjoying life to the full kind of prepares you for this.

In a week of big politics:
“You don't need to have been a politician or a mover and shaker
or an aid worker or anything in life.
All of us make a huge difference.”
He quoted George Eliot's Middlemarch:
“The effect of her being on those around her was incalculably diffusive:
for the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistorical acts;
and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been,
is half owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life,
and rest in unvisited tombs.”

Boas reflected: “All our tombs will be unvisited in a few years –
all our actions will mostly be unremembered –
but the smile you gave the checkout lady
or the kind words you gave to a stranger in the street
could still be rippling forward.
(Perhaps the smile to an infant on a bus)
We all have that opportunity and it's a huge power.
And I want everyone to realise how special and precious they are.”