Sermons - September 2024

MORNING WORSHIP, ST. COLUMBA'S, PONT STREET
SUNDAY 8th SEPTEMBER 2024, 11.00 A.M.
(16th SUNDAY after PENTECOST)

“But the woman answered Jesus,
‘Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.’” Mark 7:28

Both prisons and Palestine have been in the headlines this week.
The former for their overcrowding and conditions;
The latter, because of the impasse of the violence in Gaza, West Bank, Israel and Lebanon.
Prisons and Palestine found a link in a newsletter received this week
from the Friends of St Andrew’s, Jerusalem,
penned by former Moderator, Very Revd Dr Andrew McLellan.

In the missive, McLellan explains how he has received criticism
for praying for the people of Gaza - .
the accusation: He does not care about the Israeli hostages.
That is he recounts, a familiar and wearying criticism.
When he was Inspector for Her Majesty’s Prisons, calling for better conditions in prisons,
it invariably produced the response – “You don’t care about the victims of crime.”

It was, “a silly argument.”
McLellan knew he cared about victims of crime;
he also believed that better prison conditions led to lower re-offending.
But however often he argued the case,
he didn’t think he ever changed the mind of a complainer,
because that “takes more than argument.”

So, with the hostages’ complaint.
“Of course I care about the hostages. Of course I care about their families.
Of course I pray for them. Of course, I long for their release.
But that must not stop caring for Gaza.
That must not silence our lament for the children,
the bereaved, the wounded, the starving, the terrified in Gaza.
He concludes quoting Dr Martin Luther King:
“In the end we will not remember the words of our enemies,
but the silence of our friends.”

A distraught mother, sick with worry for her child, approaches Jesus.
Jesus has just come from a bruising encounter with the Pharisees, (last week’s dispute)
“Why do your disciples disrespect our ancient laws –
not performing the ritual cleansing before taking food?”
Jesus’ answer – a condemnation, of laws that hinder the working of God’s love.
Pursue compassion over code.

Aware of their hostility and hard-heartedness,
Jesus shakes the dust from his sandals and departs from his own folk.
He heads to Tyre and Sidon; modern day Lebanon.

There, instead of the anonymity or rest he seeks,
he gets another awkward encounter.
The Syrophoenician woman; member of a hostile tribe –
strange gods, ritually unclean.
Foreign and female – radioactive for any self-respecting rabbi.

Remarkably she gets her voice heard.
Her need is desperate – it is the plea of the mother for her child.
“My daughter…. I beg you – do something!””

Then, from the one we celebrate as Son of God – a shocking reply.
I am not for you, and you are not for me –
for we are not of the same tribe.
“Let the children be fed first,
for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”
The children are the lost sheep of Israel, his own folk;
the dogs are the gentiles, beyond the boundary fence.
As one commentator risks: Did Jesus just call this woman a bitch?

But the parental impulse will not be denied:
To the Jew with the growing reputation, she replies: Really?!
“Jesus, where is my Good News? My place at the table?
“Sir, even the dogs under the table eat the children’s crumbs.”

And apparently, in that feisty, impulsive, defiant response the game is won.
“For saying that you may go – the demon has left your daughter”
And we are left with the impression:
The girl is made well. But it is Jesus who is healed.
From a position of privilege, Jesus takes that difficult, first step.
Humble enough to listen, he allows himself to be changed.

From beyond his terrain of familiarity, via a voice of desperation,
Jesus is schooled in his own gospel.
The distraught, foreign female teaches Jesus that God’s purposes for him
are grander than he had imagined.

According to Mark, the very next encounter proves it.
Heading for Galilee, in the region of the Ten Cities,
Jesus is brought a man whose hardness of hearing
has contributed to his impediment of speech.
Whereas the healing of the Syrophoenician woman’s daughter relies
on the cut and thrust of conversation,
here the encounter is intensely physical.
Perhaps aware of the difficulty of hearing, surrounded by crowds,
Jesus leads the man aside. Hands touch ears and tongue.

Only occasionally do the original Aramaic words appear in the gospel accounts –
indicating particular significance.
Ephphatha – is suggested as being easily lip-readable.
Illustrative of Jesus taking time and attention,
to gain the man’s confidence and trust.
However different the pathways to the two healings are –
the result is the same – a restoration, both of health and community.

Placing these two episodes back-to-back,
Mark’s highlighting of Ephphatha – Be opened –
Can also be read backwards into the previous encounter.
From preconceived idea, from previous prejudice,
the Syrophoenician woman has opened Jesus’ eyes:
(“I once was blind, but now I see.”)

Which confronts us at the start of a new academic/congregational year
with the awkward, or perhaps exciting question:
How far are we prepared to get involved? To stretch and be stretched?
If at some stage we jumped, or were lowered, into baptismal waters,
how far, and to whom, will we allow that river to carry us?

In the London Scottish Regimental Chapel,
that prayerful and intimate space, beloved by many,
among the battle honours carved into the window pillars,
appear the names both of Jerusalem and Gaza.
In the same newsletter referenced at the outset,
there is also an article about the Commonwealth War Graces Commission.
It administers two cemeteries in Gaza.
The Gaza War Cemetery contains graves of 3691 dead from over 14 countries.
The other cemetery, in the north of Deir-al-Balah has 714 British soldiers.
Known locally as the British graveyards,
and regarded as a major cultural and archaeological site in the Palestinian enclave.
In more peaceful times, the Cemeteries are tended by a small team of workers
whose dedication and expertise are so apparent.
They all come from families whose jobs have been passed down through generations.
The current head gardener is the great grandson of the person
who held that role 100 years ago.
(The team and their immediate families were evacuated, safely, to Egypt in early 2024
and are now working alongside their Egyptian colleagues for the foreseeable future.)

While the damage to those well-tended military graves bears no comparison
to the destruction of life and living space across Gaza as a whole,
for some, it may be a small doorway into thinking about complexities and challenges, principles and priorities, we would prefer to ignore.
Seeing the pictures both of the formerly well-tended cemetery,
and its current damaged reality, led me back to the poem by the late Yehuda Amichai,
considered by many, both in Israel and internationally,
as Israel's greatest modern poet.
entitled, The Place Where We Are Right

From the place where we are right
Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plough.
And a whisper will be heard in the place
Where the ruined
House once stood.

In the city of Tyre, Jesus found a place where he was not always right.
And in the desperation of a distressed mother,
discovered that doubts and love made for fertile ground.
Andrew McLellan concluded his message:
“There are two steps to take which make at least some response,
both to those who call out on behalf of the hostages
and to those who call out on behalf of Gaza.
One, is to demand an immediate and permanent ceasefire.
The other is to keep listening.
Listening to all those who are living in agony.
Without listening there is no learning.”

Ephphatha – Be opened – Amen.

MORNING WORSHIP, ST. COLUMBA'S, PONT STREET
SUNDAY 15^th SEPTEMBER 2024 11.00 A.M.
(17^th SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST)

Jesus asked them, “But who do you say that I am?”
Peter answered him, “You are the Messiah.” Mark 8:29

In the Lower Hall resides a shining prize, much sought after:
the James Black St Columba’s Annual Quiz Night trophy!
(Current holders: In the Dock.)
Aficionados will know that quiz nights, whether in church halls or pub saloons,
draw forth, both the wondrous and the woeful.
Sometimes displays of astonishing knowledge – often from surprising quarters.
Sometimes a naked competitiveness,
that will contest the Quiz Master’s decision with a ferocity
worthy of John McEnroe at Wimbledon. (“You cannot be serious!”)
Quiz nights are never short on entertainment.

In the pursuit of wisdom, I was recently introduced to the Pie of Knowledge.
Used by leadership and management trainers to give trainees, perspective.
Imagine dividing up a pie into designated slices:

Slice 1: Those things you know you know.
Slice 2: Those things you know you don’t know.
Slice 3: The things you know but have forgotten.
Slice 4: The things you don’t know you don’t know.
Slice 5: The things you think you know but really don’t.

What, ask the trainers, would be the proportions of each of your slices?
In reality, the cake consists of one slice that represents approximately 99.9% -
The things you don’t know you don’t know.
The total knowledge of our universe is so vast
that the sum of all human knowledge,
is infinitesimally small in comparison.
Leadership and management trainers bake this Pie,
because they know that people who have a large slice of,
“I think I know it all” piece,
make hasty and ill-advised decisions based on ignorance.

Today’s Gospel is Quiz Night at Caesarea Philippi,
with a break for refreshments and a slice of Knowledge Pie.
North of the Sea of Galilee, at the source of the River Jordan
lies the city of Caesarea Philippi.
In Jesus’ day, site of Roman temples, dedicated to emperor gods;
home too, to local cultic religions.
A city reeking of imposing grandeur, politics and religion,
claiming the powers of heaven and earth.
It is in the villages nearby – deliberately perhaps – that Jesus asks:
“Who do people say that I am – what’s the word on the street?”

The disciples share the latest opinion polls and the social media feed:
“John the Baptist, Elijah, one of the prophets.”
They skate over other verdicts:
“Mary’s illegitimate child; a drunkard, demon-possessed;
heretic to his religion, traitor to his nation; friend to the wrong sort.”

Jesus neither affirms nor denies their answers. 
He listens; allows the disciples to offer up what they think they know about him,
based on other people’s speculations and assumptions.

After all the answers, voiced or not, the killer question:
“But who do you say that I am? What do I mean to you?”
Was there an awkward/embarrassed silence –
lowered eyes fixed on their sandals in the dust –
un-revisioned pupils, avoiding the teacher’s gaze?
What would our answer be?
Who do you/I say Jesus is? What does he mean to us?

Then, a moment of impetuous magnificence, Peter the Rock:
“You are the Messiah.”
Pie of Knowledge Slice 1: The things I know I know.
For which, rather than scoring a bonus point, there is a stern command –
don’t tell this to anyone.

Then, losing no time, Jesus begins to inform the disciples about,
the things you think you know, but really don’t.
Significantly, Jesus substitutes titles –
Son of Man/the Human One, in for Messiah.
“For Peter and most Jews, ‘Messiah’ (Christos)
refers to a militaristic, political figure who would overthrow Rome’s power
and establish a new Davidic kingdom,
which itself would inaugurate the kingdom of God.” Emerson B. Powery
Impossible to comprehend that this divinely authorized figure
could be the one who … would suffer many things … and be killed.

But this is Jesus’ direction of travel.
All this he said all this quite openly.
“The Son of Man must undergo suffering, be rejected, be killed
and after three days rise again.”
Resurrection aside, a picture so bleak, so upsetting, and so counter-intuitive,
Peter pulls him aside and tells him to knock it off.
“This is madness. You can’t mean this. It’s not what we signed up for.”

Predictions and protests.
Peter’s persuadings echo earlier trials - the temptations of the wilderness:
“If you are the Son of God, the Real Thing...
Make stones be bread. Leap from the Temple heights. Bow the knee in worship.”
Now, Peter’s version: “Be messiah; but with power.
A little self-preservation – for you, and us”.

The protest is famously rebuked: “Get behind me Satan” –
Satan, meaning accuser/adversary.
It is not an accusation of evil incarnate, but a recognition that at this moment
Peter the Rock is a roadblock, not a foundation stone;
a hindrance to the way of the cross.
Yes, I am the Messiah.  But right now, you have no idea what “Messiah” truly means. 
In reality you can’t even talk about it. 
Hear instead the ancient prophet words:
“I gave my back to those who struck me,
and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face from insult and spitting.” Isaiah 50:6

Then, addressing not just the disciples but also the crowds,
Jesus declares: “If any want to become my followers
let them deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me.
C1st Palestine knew exactly what taking up the cross meant.
Imperial Rome raised crosses like billboard notices.
In 6AD/CE 2,000 Galilean insurrectionists were crucified;
Jesus, perhaps a child witness to such obscenities.
To be a disciple you must cross the bridge –
from interested to invested, from spectator to participant.
“It is in the letting go of life, that you will truly discover it.”

The scholars tell us that this moment represents the hinge of Mark’s gospel.
There is everything that has led to this point –
the beginning and establishing of Jeus and his inner circle.
Then, there is all that is to come –
which is really the journey from now on, towards Jerusalem and the cross.
This is where a door swings open.
This is the pivotal point where Jesus asks the question: “Who do you say I am?”

If that question haunts you.
If that question has, as yet, no clear answers.
Or if that question has uncomfortable answers.
Take heart.
Remember it is a question along the way – a pilgrim question.
Peter’s answer was magnificent, but not complete.
A recognition – yes.
But with much still to learn –
Caeserea Philippi pie –
Things, he thought he knew, but did not really know.
Those learnings would take a lifetime.
“You are the messiah” was just the beginning,
not its end.

In time, asked the same question Peter could answer:
You’re the one who said: “Come, walk on the water with me.” 
who caught me before I drowned. 
You’re the one who washed my feet while I resisted,
teaching me servanthood by your example. 
The one who told me I’d be a coward,
the night you needed me to be brave. 
The one I denied, to save my skin. 
The one who looked into my eyes when the cock crowed. 
You’re the one who found me on the beach in the dawn of resurrection,
a lakeside breakfast with the question,
Do you love me?
Your three-time asking, undoing my three-time denial.

Things that one day Peter would know;
answers to “Who do you say that I am?”
By the grace of God,
may they shape our own pictures of, and commitment to,
Jesus the Messiah.
May they feed us the courage, perseverance and love
to take up and bear whatever crosses life asks us to share.