Advent 1 - Plant a Sapling and then Meet the Messiah
READINGS - Isaiah 2:1-5  Psalm 122  Romans 13:11-14  Matthew 24:36-44

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. The word Advent comes from the Latin verb advenire, which means "to come toward, to draw near, to approach."

If we are young (or young at heart), the first Sunday of Advent is exciting because it is a reminder that Christmas day is drawing near, Christmas is approaching, Christmas is coming towards us, and if we have our own advent calendar, the first little window has been opened and the first little chocolate has been eaten. 

From a slightly more religious perspective, during Advent, we remember and celebrate God's drawing near to us in the person of Jesus Christ, as we celebrate his birth on Christmas Day.  

Traditionally on the First Sunday of Advent, it has been an opportunity to reflect on the theme of the second coming of Christ and that wonderful hope of the final victory of God’s love when God will be All and in all and when all things will be made new. 

The Lectionary Readings for this Sunday all pick up this theme.  In Matthew’s Gospel the key verse for today is verse 42 “Therefore keep watch, because you do not know on what day your Lord will come.”

In the reading from Roman’s 13, Paul picks up the same theme “You know the time has come: You must wake up now; our salvation is nearer than it was when we first came to believe. The night is almost over, it will be daylight soon. Let us give up the deeds of darkness and live as people of the daytime, as people of the light.”

The Apostle Paul clearly believed that the second coming of Christ would happen any day in his own lifetime… In a literal sense, we need to admit that Paul was wrong. But in a mystical sense, his words still ring true.   Whenever we choose to live as people of the day, as people of the light, Christ comes again into the world. 

It reminds me of a saying of a Jewish saying:  “Do a good deed, for every time you do a good deed, the Messiah, the Christ, comes one step closer to the world.” 

It is a little saying that reminds us that however we may interpret the second coming of Christ what it is ultimately about is the victory of God’s Goodness and Love and every good deed that is done in the world is another small victory for Love. 

In our passage from Isaiah today we get one of the earliest Jewish visions of the Victory of God’s love in the world.  The passage was written in the period 750 – 700 BC.  It was a time of great uncertainty for the people of Judah.  The Great Assyrian Empire had already destroyed and devastated the Northern Kingdom of Israel, perhaps a little bit like Putin’s Russia has devastated Eastern Ukraine. And the Assyrian Empire remained a constant threat to the little Kingdom of Judah in the South that was left.  In the midst of these dangerous and uncertain times, the Prophet Isaiah has a vision of a world of the future in which God’s love and goodness is victorious.  He imagines a scene where the small vulnerable and threatened city of Jerusalem has become the great centre for the outpouring of God’s love and goodness in the world. 

In the Days to come he says: The mountain of the Temple of the Lord shall tower above the mountains and be lifted higher than the hills. All the nations will stream to it. Peoples without number will come to it and will say, “Come let us go up to the mountain of the Lord… that he may teach us his ways. 

...Swords will be hammered into ploughshares, and spears into sickles. Nation will not lift sword against nation. There will be no more training for war.  

And with this vision of the future, of a world that has been healed and made whole, the prophet Isaiah encourages the people into a new way of living in the present as he concludes with these words: 

“Oh house of Jacob, come let us walk in the light”. 

The vision of the final victory of God in the future is meant to inspire us to walk in the light of God’s goodness in the present to do our little bit to bring light and healing in the world. 

Some Christians don’t feel we should be caring about the environmental crisis because with the second coming of Christ everything will be sorted, and so they say is doesn’t really matter how we treat God’s gift of the earth in the present. I think there is a great danger in such attitudes. I  would be far happier with the approach of the first century Jewish sage Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai who once said: “If you should happen to be holding a sapling in your hand when they tell you that the Messiah has arrived, first plant the sapling and then go out and greet the Messiah.”

In other words, from a Christian perspective, be careful about getting too quickly drawn into claims that the second coming is just around the corner.  Go and plant a tree first and then go and greet the Messiah. Let us be careful of being so heavenly minded that we end up being of no earthly good.  Let us nurture with love and care the life and the world that is here in front of us for this too is the work of God, and with every loving and caring action towards each other, and towards God’s creation, with every sapling that is planted, the Messiah, the Christ, comes one step closer to the world.” Amen. 

What Kind of a Strange King is this?
1 Samuel 16:1-13  &  Luke 23:35-43​

For those who might not know it, this Sunday is officially the last Sunday of the Churches Liturgical Year.  Next Sunday is the first Sunday of Advent which is the First Sunday of the new Liturgical year as we start the journey to Christmas.  But on the last Sunday of the Churches year, the theme that is normally look at is Christ the King.  Or the Reign of Christ as King.  And so this Sunday at our Church Services in Banbridge and Dromore we will be exploring the concept of Kingship… 

The sermon takes place in two parts:

PART I: Children’s Address

I wonder who knows when the coronation of the King will take place? 

I see on the Royal Website is says that Coronation of His Majesty The King will take place on Saturday 6th May, next year. 

I wonder what is going to happen? 

I looked it up on the internet. I see that 6 things are going to happen on that day: 

1. All the people present need to recognise him as King and the way they do that will be to say together:  “God save King Charles”
2. The oath,  - The King will take an Oath / make a promise to service his people faithfully with God’s help
3. The anointing, - The King will be anointed with special oil that has been prayed over. Not just cooking oil. It will be mixed with lovely smelling oil.
4.  The crowning, - The King will be crowned and given other special items that show he is King
5.  The enthronement – The King will be led to the throne where he will sit
6. The homage – the people will come and bow in front of King Charles to show their respect. 

In the Old Testament Book of Samuel, God told the prophet Samuel to find some oil and go to  a man named Jesse because one of his sons was to be anointed as king. 

When the Prophet Samuel arrived Jesse brought out all of his sons to see which one was going to be anointed God’s king.  The prophet started with the oldest. God said no, this isn’t the one to be King. The prophet went to the tallest. God said, no, this isn’t the one to be King. Then the prophet went to the strongest. God said, no, this isn’t the one to be King. And so the prophet went through all 7 of Jesse’s son’s but none of them were God’s choice. 

The prophet said to Jesse… are these all your sons? Do you have any other son’s?  Yes, he replied. My youngest son is David. He is looking after the sheep. And so they called David. God said to the prophet! Yes! This is the one I have chosen to be King. And the Prophet anointed David with oil. 

Let us pray.  Thank you God for this story that shows that you don’t only choose the oldest, or the strongest or the tallest, but in David, you chose the youngest, the smallest and the weakest to be your chosen King. Amen. 

Part II 

The story of the anointing of David is a very significant one in the Bible.  According to the Biblical Narrative, it was never God’s intention for Israel to have a King.  But all other nations had Kings and so Israel wanted a king also. The people pleaded with Samuel to anoint a King.  God spoke to Samuel the prophet and told Samuel to tell the people that this was not a very good idea. 

The King will tax you and he will make your sons serve in his army. It is not a good idea. But according to the story, the people insisted that they wanted a King like all the other nations.  Eventually God gave in and Samuel anointed Saul as King. At first it all went ok, but the longer Saul was King, the more things didn’t go well. The power went to Saul’s head and he turned out to be not such a good king after all. 

The story of the anointing of David reveals that God’s choice for a King was different from the way people choose a King.  God chosen the unexpected son of Jesse, the youngest. Overlooking the older and stronger brothers.  The story reveals that God doesn’t look at outward appearances. God looks at the heart. God’s priorities and values are not our priorities and values. 

But even though David was mostly a good King, David was not a perfect King.  He made some pretty big mistakes.  The older he got, the less effective he was at being a good King.  The rest of the Old Testament is really about the failure of the Israelite Kings to lead God’s people properly.  Solomon David’s son loved wealth. And with his high taxes he brought people to their knees. From there they split into two Kingdoms. The Kingdom of Israel in the North and the Kingdom of Judah in the South. Relations were not always good. 

As the Old Testament story continues there is a growing hope that God will anoint a new King.  Who will rule justly and properly. 

The New Testament is the story of the coming of this new king: It is Jesus. 

But even more than David, he is not what people expect in a King.  Jesus comes to serve, not to be served like most Kings think. 

Across the Gospel stories, most of the 6 things that will happen at King Charles’s coronation happen to Jesus. 

In the New Testament, the moment of Jesus baptism, is the moment he is chosen to be King.  (In our baptisms, we too are chosen to become part of God’s royal family with Jesus).  At his baptism he is chosen to be King: “This is my Son”.  Some say he is also anointed at this moment to become King… anointed not with oil, but with God’s Spirit who comes down in the form of a dove.  Later on, an unknown women will anoint his head with oil, just a few days before he dies on the cross. 

When Jesus is tempted in the desert, that is the moment of his oath. He will serve God and God alone. 

When Jesus rides into Jerusalem (not on a war horse but on a donkey), he is acclaimed as King: The people say, Hosanna! God bless the King who comes in the name of the Lord! Peace in heaven and glory to God!”

Next Jesus is crowned, but not with a crown of gold, but a crown of thorns. 

Next, the soldiers pay homage to him, but they do so by abusing him and making fun of him. 

Next Jesus is enthroned, but not on a throne made of gold and jewels, but on a cross which he is made to carry himself all the way to the place where he is crucified. 

Some might say that Jesus’ enthronement took place in two parts: Part one was on the cross; Part two was in his resurrection. Some might say that Jesus enthronement takes place in 3 parts, first on the cross, then in his resurrection, and lastly it needs to take place in our hearts. 

I don’t know about you, but this is a story that turns upside down all that we thought we knew about what it means to be a King.  A crown of thorns and enthroned firstly on a cross. What kind of a strange King is this? 

The question is: Will we follow this King? Will we allow this King, God’s chosen King to be enthroned on our hearts?

MISSING (John 15: 9-13 & John 20:11-13) 

I have shared previously that my grandfather and two of his brothers served in the British Army during world war II.

My Grandfather served as an officer mainly in North Africa. He was a land-surveyor by profession, and it was in this capacity that he served in the military, going ahead of the army to help map out the terrain that they were traversing and also engaging in battle on.  His unit was initially with the SA forces that drove the Italians out of Ethiopia, and then served with the 8th Army in the North African desert. After Rommel was defeated by the 8th Army under Montgomery his unit was transferred to the American 5th Army that fought its way up through Italy. Their troop ships were attacked by Stuka dive bombers crossing from North Africa to Italy although fortunately my Grandfather’s ship wasn't hit.

But my grandfather’s youngest brother St Clair was not as fortunate. He served in the RAF as a navigator in a RAF Coastal Command plane that was responsible for doing protective patrols around the British Isles. On 27th December 1943, just two days after Christmas, his plane and the entire crew went missing, lost without trace while on patrol. Neither the plane nor any bodies were ever recovered. In the end it was believed that they had been shot down by a German submarine using its deck gun. 

About two years ago my brother and his family went to visit the farm near Cape Town where my grandfather had grown up. While staying in the guest house they had opportunity to see some of the old letters that had been kept by the family.  In and amongst them, they found a poem that was written by my great grandmother in which she was clearly seeking to process the sense of loss and grief at the loss of her son, who had gone to war, and had never come home.  The poem is entitled: 

MISSING

St Clair 27 December 1943

Misery! She waited heavy eyed
In Pain. Benumbed. No pride. 
Sustained. She had not even tried. 
Shattered and torn, to ride, driven with storm.
In fearful wonder
Nevertheless, and wretched, to that pure calm
God and his angels provide.

Missing. 

It is a poem that vividly describes the pain and grief of all those family members who had to deal with the trauma of losing a loved one in war, often in a different part of the world, and not even being able to receive the remains to give a proper burial, or to be able to find some sense of closure. 

Never receiving the remains of one’s loved one must make grieving particularly difficult.  I can imagine that the mind may wish to play tricks, with one always left wondering if it is true. Did he or she really die. What if it wasn’t really true. Is it possible that they might still one day come home. How difficult to grieve and find closure under those circumstances. 

The musician and song writer Sting captures this experience very vividly in his 1987 song: They Dance Alone.  The song was written as a protest song written to express the grief of the many thousands of grieving mothers and wives in Chile in South America when the Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet was responsible for the disappearance and the murder of thousands of people between 1973 and 1990. They just went missing. The song refers to the mourning of the Chilean women who dance the Cueca, the national dance of Chile, dancing alone with photos of their disappeared loved ones in their hands. 

Loved ones who went missing, never to be seen again.  Missing. 

The experience of my great-grandmother was not unique.  I understand that in the course of the First World War at least 500 000 soldiers from the British Empire were missing in action.  That would amount to at least 500 000 mothers left grieving like my great-grandmother let alone the many fathers, wives, brothers, sisters and children.  I couldn’t find comparable numbers for World War II, but I can imagine they would have numbered in the 10’s of thousands if not the 100’s of thousands. 

In the Bible, one catches a glimpse of the trauma of losing someone, and not being able to find the body and not knowing where to lay or direct one’s grief.  In John’s Gospel, it is part of the Resurrection narratives.  Jesus has been tried, sentenced to death and killed by the Roman Empire in one of the most cruel ways known to humanity. His body has been hastily buried according to Jewish custom by Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus.  Early in the morning while it is still dark, we read that Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb, and finds that the stone had been removed and the body of Jesus is missing.  One catches a sense of the grief and loss as she runs back to Peter in a panic saying “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him!”

The same sense of loss and bewilderment is expressed as she encounters two angels seated where Jesus body had been. “Woman, why are you crying?” they ask her. “They have taken my Lord away” she said, “and I don’t know where they have put him”.  Missing! 

For Mary, it is not just that she doesn’t know where the body of Jesus is, but without the body of Jesus, she doesn’t know where to direct her grief. 

In the passage from John 20, one gets the sense of Mary flailing about, disorientated because the body of her Lord cannot be found.  But for Mary, within just a few verses, her grief and confusion finds resolution and closure in the discovery that Christ is Risen, but for hundred’s of thousands of women in this country across the two great wars, there was no easy resolution and no easy closure. 

On Remembrance Sunday, we mostly, quite rightly pause to reflect on those who made the ultimate sacrifice of their lives on behalf of their fellow countryman. But beneath the sacrifice of each of those whose lives were lost, is perhaps an equally great sacrifice of those left behind, left flailing about trying to make sense of a life that no longer makes sense in the absence of a loved one. 

In the Gospel Story, the Eternal, Risen Christ asks Mary: “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?”   

How many hundreds of thousands of women, mothers, wives, sisters, along with fathers and brothers have scanned the crowds looking, hoping against hope, to see the face of their missing family member coming home, but to no avail. 

The poem of my great-grandmother speaks of the devastation of losing a loved one, missing in action, and not knowing where his body has been laid. 

And yet the poem is not without some sense of hope or comfort. 

She speaks of being driven with storm, in fearful wonder, to that pure calm that God and his angels provide. And yet it is not a calm that erases her wretched state. It is not a peace that erases the emptiness and the loss. They seem to sit side by side, the peace along with the storm.  The pure calm along with the wretchedness of grief. 

I wonder if that is why the Apostle Paul calls it the Peace that passes understanding. It passes understanding, because it does not make sense. It passes understanding because it is a peace that does not remove the pain and the grief.  It is a peace that passes understanding because it is felt and experienced even in the midst of the storm. That sense that though this world has been torn apart by an unresolvable grief and loss, that can never be undone, in another dimension of life that mysteriously intersects with this one, there is an eternal realm, where, in the words of Julian of Norwich, all is well, where all will be well, and all manner of things will be well. It is that same light of eternity that Mary glimpses when she realises it is the voice of the Risen Christ who calls her by name, saying “Mary!”. Amen.

New Light & New Perspectives on Communion 
​
Today I would like to share two moments of insight that I have had regarding Communion that gave me fresh insight and new perspective on what it is that is happening when we share in Communion. 

The first was in my second year of ministry I was stationed in a small town called Matatiele at the foothills of the Lesotho Mountains.  It was the first place that I properly experienced snow in the early spring of the year 2000. It was (and I imagine still is) a very beautiful place, a place surrounded by farms, hills and mountains. It was quite a magical year for me. 

I was 26 years old,  and for first time was really beginning to spread my wings, enjoying also some of my first significant contacts with some of the other clergy in the town.  I had made friends with the Catholic Priest Fr. Richard, who was originally from Ghana. Together we started attending the aerobics class in the Methodist Church Hall. I also enjoyed attending the midweek morning Eucharist or Holy Communion service at the local Anglican Church on a Thursday. 

In the Easter week of that year I was invited to attend a Passover Meal hosted by the Anglican Church and led by the Anglican Priest. The experience of that Passover Feast made quite an impact on me and gave me a new insight into the nature of Communion.  During the course of the Passover Meal, as the Anglican Priest followed the traditional format of the Jewish Passover, those who were eating the meal found ourselves being invited not just to think or the Exodus or the escape from Egypt as an event from the past.  In a very real sense the liturgy was inviting all of us who were gathered there to imagine that we had been part of the original Exodus, that we had been slaves in Egypt and that by the hand of God’s grace we had been led out of the land of slavery and been set free.  It was quite a powerful experience. It helped me to understand why it is that the Jewish faith has been so enduring through many centuries of hardship. 

Communion is often spoken of as the Christian Passover. It made me realise that the communion service is meant in some way to do something similar to the Jewish Passover. It is meant to be more than just a memorial of events of the past, but an invitation for the events of the past to become something that we can experience and participate in, in the present, so that it is we too who join Jesus with his disciples in that upper room, on the night of his betrayal, as he takes bread, breaks it and gives it to them saying: This is my body, do this in remembrance of me, and has he takes the cup saying, This is my blood of the new covenant given for you. I had the sense from that Passover meal in MAtatiele that in Communion, the events of the past are intended to become events of the present in which we can participate, and in so doing to be transformed in the here and now. 

As Jesus shared that last supper in the upper room, so Jesus shares that last supper with us also here and now in the present today. As Jesus shared meals with sinners and outcasts, inviting them to draw near to experience themselves as the beloved of God, so Jesus shares a meal with us too, in all our sinfulness and in all of our brokenness so that we too can experience ourselves in the here and now as the beloved of God.  As Jesus sacrificed his life on the cross for the life of the world, so in the breaking of the bread and the pouring of the cup, we are invited to imagine that we are standing at the foot of the cross as witnesses and like the Roman Centurion to say to ourselves “Surely this man was a son of God” or “Surely this man was the Son of God” depending on how one translates the original Greek of Mark’s Gospel.  As the hymn writer puts it: “Love so amazing, so Divine, demands my life, my soul, my all!” The remembering of the sacrifice of Jesus invites us into a life of loving sacrifice in the present here and now today. As Jesus says in John 20:21 “As the Father sent me, so I am sending you!” 

The second moment of insight came in more recent years in 2015 or 2016, watching the semi-fictional British TV series called Outlander in which a former Second World War English military nurse, on a visit to the Scottish Highlands in 1945, finds herself transported back in time to 1743 into the events leading up to the Battle of Culloden. 

There was a scene that really stood out for me in the 4th episode of season 1 where all the members of Clan McKenzie, gather together in order to renew their pledge their allegiance to the Laird.  In that scene, each of the clan members were required to stand before the Laird, verbally offer their allegiance, and then as a symbol of that allegiance, to drink whiskey from a common cup or bowl that was offered to them by Colum McKenzie the Laird. 

In watching that scene, suddenly a light went on for me about the meaning of Communion that I hadn’t quite understood before. 

In my teens when I was confirmed in the Methodist Church, during our confirmation classes I was taught that Holy Communion was a sacrament, and a sacrament was defined as an outward sign of an invisible grace.  The outward sign was the bread and wine. The inward grace was the forgiveness of sin and the presence of Christ. 

But when I was studying theology, I saw that the origin of the word sacrament was in fact from the latin word sacramentum and originally referred to an oath of allegiance taken by Roman soldiers offering their allegiance to the Roman Emperor. The root word sacrō meant to hallow or to consecrate.  Those who took the sacramentum as an oath to the Emperor were taking a sacred oath consecrating themselves to the service of the Emperor. And this oath was a sacred oath and a religious act, because the Emperors after Julius Caesar were all considered to be divine, gods or sons of the gods. In ancient Roman religion and law, the sacramentum was also an oath or vow that  rendered the swearer ‘sacer’, in other words, "given to the gods," in the negative sense if he ever violated the oath he had taken.

The ancient historian Vegetius writes writes a summary of the meaning of the sacramentum. He says: "...The soldiers swear that they shall faithfully execute all that the Emperor commands, that they shall never desert the service, and that they shall not seek to avoid death for the Roman republic!"

When I first came across this in my studies I couldn’t quite understand how this oath of allegiance that Roman soldiers took to the Roman Emperor had any relevance to the ritual of Holy Communion. 

But seeing that oath of allegiance by Clan McKenzie to the Laird of Clan McKenzie on the TV series Outlander, suddenly it all became clear.  A central part in this Scottish Highland act of allegiance was drinking from a common cup of whiskey that was offered to them by the Laird. 

Suddenly the penny dropped.  The outward sign of drinking from the Laird’s cup was the an inward symbol of the Clans commitment to standing in loyalty with the Laird and being willing to fighting on his side if necessary. Being willing to die for him, or with him if it ever came to that. 

That was certainly the experience of the Christian community in the first 250 years or so of it’s existence. It was often a dangerous thing to be a follower of Jesus and to call oneself a Christian. 

From the earliest times, the Christian Community understood themselves to be owing their allegiance to a different Lord. Although the Roman Emperor Caesar was the Lord of the Roman Empire and ruler of the then known world, the ultimate allegiance of every Christian was to a different Lord. We catch a glimpse of that in our reading from Luke today where Jesus celebrates the Last Supper with his disciples. While the Roman Emperor’s lorded it over the people under them, and their high officials exercised authority over the people on the Caesar’s behalf, as we read in Luke’s version of the Last Supper, it was not to be so with the followers of Jesus, for Jesus had come to serve and not to be served.  The early Christians faced a choice. Would they offer their allegiance to Caesar and follow the ways of Caesar as the secular authority, or would they offer their primary allegiance to Jesus as Lord, and follow the ways of Jesus? 

It remains an important question:  We all owe our allegiance and loyalty in some way to the country in which we live. It is part of being a good citizen.  But ultimately, as Christians, there is a higher authority that we owe our ultimate allegiance to, and if faced with a choice between following the ways and policies of our secular authority or following the ways of Christ, as Christians our primary vow of allegiance (our sacramentum) should always be to Christ.  

And so that is one perspective on what we do here today, as we participate in the sacrament of Communion, as we eat the bread and drink the cup, symbols of the sacrificial offering of Christ’s own life for us, so in return we come to pledge our allegiance to Jesus as Lord and commit ourselves to his Kingdom of Love.  From this perspective, it is not a matter of whether we are worthy or not. It is rather a question of who we will choose to serve.  Will we serve the ways and the lords of this world, or will we serve under the ways of the Lord Jesus Christ.  Or perhaps if we were in Scotland, would we serve the ways of the Laird Jesus Christ, who has already in his death made his pledge of allegiance towards us and in fact towards the whole world. Amen. 

Becoming a Living Temple of God - Brian Moodie (Luke 19:1-10; Haggai 2:1-9; Psalm 65:1-8)

In our Old Testament passage, the prophet Haggai is speaking to the people of Judah after they have returned from exile in Babylon.  They have rebuilt the temple in Jerusalem after it was completely destroyed by the Babylonians.  But the rebuilt temple was but a shadow of it’s former glory.  And so the prophet Haggai speaks a word of encouragement to the people of Judah, telling them to be strong, and not to fear, because God is with them.  In what follows, Haggai speaks of the promise that God will soon fill this new temple with God’s Glory, and glory that will be greater than the first temple. 

The promise of Haggai was never fulfilled in any literal sense. The second temple also was destroyed, this time by the Romans. It’s glory never surpassed the glory of the first temple. 

But in a metaphoric sense, it could be argued that the promise was fulfilled. The Apostle Paul reminds us that the real temple is not a building made of stone or bricks and mortar. The real temple was always meant to be human beings in whom God’s Spirit dwells. 

As we read the Gospel passage today, we see a glimpse of the real temple, a human being, filled with God’s Spirit, walking through the streets of Jericho.  As Paul says in 2 Corinthians 5, God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself. And the invitation of Christ, this living Temple of God’s presence in the world, the one in whom God’s Spirit dwelt in all it’s fullness, was that other’s too could become living, walking, breathing temples in which God’s Spirit could be seen to dwell. 

And this was essentially the invitation that Jesus was offering to Zacchaeus when he called Zacchaeus down from the sycamore tree.  In that simple action of calling Zacchaeus by name and inviting himself over to Zacchaeus’s house for a meal, Jesus was in effect inviting Zacchaeus to begin a journey in which he too could realise his potential to become a living Temple in which God’s Spirit could be seen to dwell. And by the end of the story this is indeed what happens. 

In the context of the story, Zacchaeus was quite possibly the wealthiest man in Jericho.  But he was also quite probably the most despised man in Jericho too.  His wealth had come from not only from collaboration with the Roman oppressors, but it had also come from cheating others. Growing rich at the expense of others. He would almost certainly have been looked down upon as one of the worst of humanity, a despicable human being driven by greed, valuing money and riches above his fellow human beings and countryman. 

How shocked the crowds must have been to hear that Jesus would be willing speak with Zacchaeus let alone associate with him by visiting his home.  Surely religious teachers should not be associating with despicable scum like Zacchaeus?   Why this lying, cheating, stealing scumbag? Why of all people did Jesus choose to visit him? Indications are the crowds were not just shocked, but also offended. 

I can imagine some around him thinking: How can Jesus share table fellowship with the man who defrauded my grand-parents, or brother or cousin, forcing them to sell the home and leaving them destitute? How many other stories like that could have been be told of Zacchaeus by others in the town?

And so we read in verse 7: When all the people saw this, they began to mutter amongst themselves, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner”. 

What was Jesus thinking? It appears that in Jesus eyes, even lying, cheating, stealing scumbags like Zacchaeus remained valuable in God’s eyes. But this wouldn’t have gone down well with everyone in the crowd. It was justice they wanted, not the saving of this man’s soul.  In their minds he was unredeemable. 

But for Zacchaeus, this was a Damascus moment. It was a moment in which the scales fell from his eyes.  In the light of Christ’s perfect love, purity and goodness, he came to see the thing that his heart had longed for the most.  He discovered a treasure that was worth more than all the money he had accumulated.  In that moment, he surely discovered the real meaning and purpose of his own life, that he too was created to be a living temple of God’s glory in the world.  And having discovered his true identity in the overwhelming Presence of Christ’s goodness and love, the chains around his heart were broken and he was set free, free to live a life of love in the place of deceit, free to live a life of generosity in the place of greed. 

In verse 8 “But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” 

Zacchaeus in this moment discovers the truth of Jesus’ saying: It is better to give than receive!  He also reveals that a heart that he been touched by love is a heart moved to put right the wrongs of the past. And not just pay it back, but pay it back with interest on top… “I will pay back four times the amount he says. 

And Jesus response in vs 9 & 10: “Today salvation has come to this house.”   Salvation is not about the afterlife, it is also about a life of wholeness lived in his world. 

In the person of Zacchaeus, God’s Temple  had been rebuilt and restored, and it was far more glorious than any temple built of rocks or bricks and mortar. 

Isn’t it interesting that the saving of Zacchaeus came not through words of judgement or condemnation, but rather through the presence and the power of love. 

Psalm 65:1-8 is also set alongside the readings from Haggai and Luke in today’s lectionary.  When one reads Psalm 65 in the light of the Zacchaeus story, the Psalm comes alive in a wonderful new way: 

Verse 1 “Praise awaits you in Zion, to you our vows will be fulfilled.” Zacchaeus makes a vow in Jesus presence, a vow that when fulfilled would bring praise to God. “Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” 

Verse 2 “You answer prayer, to you all people will come”  As Jesus calls Zacchaeus out of the tree, the deepest prayer of his heart is realised and answered.

Verse 3 “When we were overwhelmed by our sins, you forgave our transgressions”. In the Presence of Christ, the Living Temple of God’s presence, Zacchaeus experiences the forgiveness of his overwhelming sins and transgressions. 

In verse 4 “Blessed are those you choose and bring near to live in your courts. They are filled with the good things of your house, of your holy temple”.  In the story, Zacchaeus is brought near to the living Temple, the Presence of God shining through the person of Jesus and as he is chosen by Jesus and brought near, he finds his heart filled with good things.  Filled to overflowing. 

Verse 5 “You answer us with awesome and righteous deeds God our Saviour, the hope of the ends of the earth and the farthest see.”  In Jesus Presence, Zacchaeus finds the deepest hopes of the earth and the deepest hopes of his own heart answered. 

Verse 7 goes on to speak of God stilling the roaring of the seas and the roaring of their waves.  In the presence of Jesus, the Living Temple of God’s presence, the storms within Zacchaeus are stilled. 

Verse 8  “The whole earth is filled with awe at your wonders; where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy.”  What beautiful poetry: “where morning dawns, where evening fades, you call forth songs of joy.”   In the presence of Christ, the Living Temple of God’s presence, God calls forth songs of joy in Zacchaeus’s heart, making him to a Temple in which God’s Presence and love can be seen to dwell. Amen.

May God bless you as these reflections continue to speak into your own hearts. 

'​What is true religion?  Isaiah 1:10-17 & James 1 :26-27

What is true religion? There is a tendency within many religious groups to regard themselves as the one true religion. In a world of religions which all claim to be the true religion, how does one choose which one is actually the true religion?  Is the true religion that one that I was born into by accident? What is true religion? Is there such a thing?  

While I was away, the question of what constitutes true religion was turning over in my mind, sparked two stories:

While was visiting my brother Wesley and his family in Cape Town, my sister-in-law Marcia told me about a friend she had met at their Church. I don’t remember what the friend's name was, and so for the purposes of this story, I will simply call her Joy.  Joy had been part of a very evangelical  Christian church that read the Bible in a very fundamentalist way. But a major change for her happened for her fairly recently when she was admitted to hospital. She was alone, because she had no family. She was in a ward with a Muslim women (There is a fairly large Muslim community in the Cape Town area.) The family of the Muslim women would visit their family member faithfully. Over a few visits, when they discovered that Joy had no family, they began to paying attention to her on their visits, bringing her gifts of food and treats, asking her how she was doing and sharing in conversation with her.

This experience changed Joy’s views quite dramatically.  She came to the conclusions that true religion was not believing exclusively in Jesus in the way that she had previously been taught, but rather that true faith and religion was about following in the way of Jesus’ goodness, love, kindness and compassion to others, as she has received from that Muslim family when she found herself in hospital. Before this experience, her faith would have taught her that Muslims were at best misguided and probably at worst, were to be regarded as worshippers of demons or the devil and therefore destined for eternal punishment.  But in hospital, she had experienced them as channels of God’s kindness and compassion. 

This cognitive dissonance between what she had been taught and what she had actually experienced, led her to try and find a church that would give space for this new religious insight. And so it was that she found herself finding a home in Wesley and Marcia’s Church. 

The question of what constitutes true religion is a theme repeated theme across the pages of the Bible. At times it almost feels like a debate that is happening across the pages of Scripture. 

In the midst of all of this debate, some of the Old Testament prophets give some interesting perspectives: 

The prophet Isaiah lived around 700 BC.   In Isaiah chapter 1, speaking on behalf of God, the prophet does not hold back as he criticizes the people of Judah and the city of Jerusalem.  He speaks of them as a people in rebellion against God.  He compares them to the towns of Sodom and Gomorrah from their early history.  In verse 11, speaking on behalf of God, the prophet tells them how their religion has become meaningless and worthless in God’s eyes: 

verse 11 ‘The multitude of your sacrifices –
    what are they to me?’ says the Lord.
‘I have more than enough of burnt offerings,
    of rams and the fat of fattened animals;
I have no pleasure
    in the blood of bulls and lambs and goats.

Verse  13  Stop bringing meaningless offerings!
    Your incense is detestable to me.
New Moons, Sabbaths and convocations –
    I cannot bear your worthless assemblies.

Verse 15 When you spread out your hands in prayer,
    I hide my eyes from you;
even when you offer many prayers,
    I am not listening.

Why? Because Isaiah says: Their hands were full of blood, a metaphoric way of saying that they were benefiting unquestioningly from the economic and social injustices that had begun to characterise their society.

After rejecting the religious assemblies, ceremonies and prayers of the people of Judah, Isaiah, speaking on behalf of God, then outlines the nature of true religion: 

In verse 17 Learn to do right; seek justice.
    Defend the oppressed.[a]
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
    plead the case of the widow.

True religion according to the prophet Isaiah is not so much about taking part in religious services and ceremonies, but rather true religion in his mind is about doing what is right, seeking justice and fairness, defending those who are oppressed, taking up the cause of orphans and pleading the case of widows.  In other words, true religion is not about singing the right hymns or reciting the right creeds, true religion is about acting with integrity, kindness, compassion and generosity, especially towards the weakest and most vulnerable members of society.

Living 700 years after Isaiah, Jesus faced similar problems in his time.  His clashes with the Pharisees almost all revolved around the following questions:  Is true religion about following the correct religious rituals and obeying the correct religious purity laws? Or is true religion living in wisdom and compassion towards one’s neighbours?

Is true religion believing the correct things about God? Or is religion living in harmony with the ways of God? And what are the ways of God? 

The prophet Micah summarises it in that well known verse in Micah 6:8

    And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly with your God.

Acting justly towards others, showing kindness and mercy and walking with humility in God’s sight.  Making sure that the weak and vulnerable are not neglected, exploited or defrauded or left destitute. 

In the New Testament, the letter of James picks up this same theme. It follows on from the passage we read last week about listening and doing. And in these verses, James explicitly uses the phrase: true religion. It could also be translated as pure worship. The word for true or pure is the Greek word katharos and means to be clean, purified and not mixed with anything else, like gold that has been purified in the fire from any impurities. The word the NIV translates as religion is the word threskeia which refers to religious ceremonies and rituals in other words, the activities of religious worship. From these two words katharos and threskeia comes the English phrase: True Religion, or Pure and Undefiled Worship. 

And what is the nature of this ‘true religion’ or this ‘pure and undefiled worship’ that James is referring to? In chapter 1 vs 27 he describes it:

“...to look after orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.”

These words are an echo, perhaps even a summary of the words we read earlier from Isaiah 1 verse 17 
Learn to do right; seek justice.
    Defend the oppressed.
Take up the cause of the fatherless;
    plead the case of the widow.

In closing, I wish to share a second story. It is the story of an Egyptian Doctor, Mohamed Mashally, a man who died in his 80s over two years ago in July 2020. One could say that he was a practitioner of the true religion or the pure worship as James defines it in chapter 1 verse 27.  What perhaps might surprise us, is that like the family in the story I opened today’s sermon with, he too was a Muslim, which again suggests that true religion or true worship might not be the exclusive preserve of Christians: 

Dr. Mohamed Mashally, was known as the “Doctor of the Poor”. He graduated from the Medical School in 1967. For over 50 years he visited the poor in his city in Egypt providing medical care to anyone who needed it regardless of background. In his modest clinic, and wearing very modest clothes, he charged only minimal rates for a consultation, and for the poor, who couldn’t afford it, he provided his medical care for free.  He also began providing medicines to the poor for free after he discovered one of his patients, a mother, could not afford to feed her family and buy insulin for her son who was a diabetic a story that had ended in tragedy with the young boy dying in his arms. He never owned a car, not even a mobile phone. He walked from his house to the clinic on foot, right to the end of his life, even though he was over 80 years old.

When a wealthy businessman in the Gulf learned of his story, he is said to have given him $20,000 and also a car to get around. But after a year, upon his return to Egypt, the wealthy donor discovered that Mohamed had sold the car to help his poor patients. On another occasion, after being interviewed on TV, Dr. Mashally is said to have turned down a donation worth millions from a TV show, advising them to rather offer such donations to the poor and needy. (In the words of James, he remained unstained or uncorrupted by the world of money). 

Reflecting back, Dr. Mohamed Mashally said, "After I graduated, I found out that my father sacrificed his whole life to make me a doctor." Then I promised God that I would not take a penny from the poor and live a life in the service of my neighbour whatever culture or religion he was. "

It is an inspiring story that raises the question: Is it possible that true religion is not confined to one belief system or creed? Is it possible that true religion is to be found wherever acts of selflessness, kindness, generosity and mercy can be seen, whether those acts are done by a Protestant or a Catholic, or whether they are done by a Hindu, a Jew, a Muslim or a Buddhist, or even a person who may claim to have no faith at all?

James 1:27 Pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you.”

May God bless you ponder these things in your own hearts as you consider what they might mean for you and as you weigh them up in your own minds?

 SERMON TEXT: Deep Listening

Sometimes people can do some pretty extreme things when they feel passionate about something. 
During the past week I came across the remarkable story of James Francis from California, who embarked on what would strike most people as a little crazy or extreme.

It all began in 1971 when two oil tankers collided near the Golden Gate Bridge just outside San Francisco Bay which resulted in a devastating oil spill.  When James Francis saw the devastation which was left, with oil soaked birds washing up on the shore, it affected him so deeply that he took a vow that day, to give up using motorised transport.  Some of his friends probably imagined this would be just a passing phase.

But his decision to give up using motorised transport was not simply a passing phase. It was obviously borne of a deep sense of conviction and passion, because he maintained this vow for a total of 22 years. But in addition to his vow to give up motorised transport a few months later, he also took a vow of silence which he ended up keeping for a total of 17 years.  He tells how on his 27th birthday, tired of the constant arguments with friends about how one person walking would make any difference in the world, he stunned his friends and himself, by taking a vow of silence. 

Initially it was only meant to last one day, but the experience of taking a vow of silence that day made such an impact on him that he ended up keeping that vow of silence for a total of 17 years.

He said that during that first day of chosen silence, he came to a profound realisation that for most of his life up until that point he hadn’t been properly listening to other people.  He realised that he was in the habit of hearing someone only long enough to think he knew what they were going to say, and then he would stop listening and beginning thinking in his head about what he was going to say back to them.  He also realised on that day that had been operating from the assumption that other people were wrong and he was correct, and as a result he realised that he had also stopped learning. 

And so with this realisation, he made a further decision to extend his vow of silence, a vow that he would keep for a total of 17 years. 

In the Bible, you read quite a few crazy stories about Old Testament prophets who did some pretty extreme and seemingly crazy things that make James Francis sound not quite so crazy. 

In Isaiah 20, we read of how the prophet Isaiah stripped off all his clothes and went about naked in order to communicate a prophetic message to the people of Israel.

And then there is the prophet Hosea, who married a prostitute in order to communicate to the people of Israel that God loved them despite their religious unfaithfulness.  

And then there is the case of the prophet Ezekiel whose ministry initially didn’t involve speaking because according to chapter 3 God had rendered him mute. Instead for a total of 780 days, he acted out a siege of the city of Jerusalem that he predicted was coming.  He drew a picture of Jerusalem on a clay tablet, built a ramp against it and put battering rams around it, and then lay on his one side facing it for 390 days. When the 390 days were up, Ezekiel then rolled over and repeated the whole exercise in the opposite direction for a further 390 days.  And so for just over two years and one month, according to Ezekiel chapter 4, this is how the prophet Ezekiel got his day in, lying on his side in the public square facing an image of the city of Jerusalem under siege! It almost makes James Francis sound a little tame. 

Reading about James Francis and how his vow of silence made him realise that for most of his life he had not truly been listening to other people, it raised the question for me: How good are we as listeners? Do we have the same tendency. Do we only listen to people long enough to start thinking  what we are going to say in return? Do we truly listen to each other. 

According to the book of Ezekiel, God warned Ezekiel that the people of Jerusalem were not good listeners, that Ezekiel would speak to them, but they would not listen. 

This is a theme that comes up again and again in the Bible, the sense that people are not good listeners. In Isaiah 9, God warns the prophet Isaiah of the same truth, saying “They will be  “ever hearing, but never understanding...ever seeing, but never perceiving.” 

Jesus seems to have faced a similar problem. When asked by his disciples why he taught in parables, he quotes from Isaiah in his reply as he says to his disciples: ‘Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear.’  ...For this people’s heart has grown callous; they hardly hear with their ears, and they have closed their eyes.” (Matthew 13:13ff)

These passages suggest that learning to become good listeners is not just a good social skill to have, but in fact is necessary in our growth towards human maturity.  

We see the same truth in the opening verses of Proverbs. In Proverbs chapter one, within the space of the first eight verses, the instruction to listen happens twice. The first 7 verses of Proverbs are a kind of an introduction to the whole of the rest of the book and the instruction to listen is key!  In verse 5 we read these words: 

“Let the wise listen and add to their learning,”
 
And then in verse 8, the first verse of the first major section of Proverbs begins with the simple word “Listen”. 

Verse 8 reads:  Listen, my son, to your father’s instruction
    and do not forsake your mother’s teaching.

What the book of Proverbs suggests is that the path to true wisdom, and the path to true spiritual maturity is through listening. 

Getting back to James Francis: What he learned in taking a one-day vow of silence, was firstly that he was not a good listener, and that secondly,  the first step to becoming a good listener, to really listen to and hear another person, is simply to stop talking. To truly listen to another person is to give them space to speak until they are finished. And also enough space to pause and to collect their thoughts if they need to in order to finish saying whatever it is they need to.  It means is that if we find ourselves constantly interrupting other people when they are speaking, or redirecting the conversation, or changing the topic, moving the conversation on or thinking in our head the next thing we are going to say, then we are no longer truly listening.  

As one reads the Gospel stories of Jesus, One gets the sense that Jesus must have been a really good listener. It was one of the ways people must have felt loved and affirmed in his presence, for to truly listen to another person is in fact one of the primary acts of human love.  To not listen, is in effect to ignore another person.  Richard Moss writes that “The greatest gift you can give another is the purity of your attention.”

For whatever reason, James Francis, after 17 years decided to give up his vow of silence. A few years later he also gave up his vow not to use motorised vehicles. But having given up his vow of silence, he writes that he continues to practice silence each day. Each morning, as a practice, he sits in silence for 30 minutes.  

Apart from learning to stop talking, practicing some form of silence, even as little as 5 or 10 minutes, as a regular routine is one way in which we can practice becoming better listeners. If we can be silent with ourselves for short periods, without external stimulation and without distraction, then we will more easily learn to be silent before other people and therefore better able to listen to them.  And in doing so, also better able to love them.  You don’t need to take a vow of silence for 17 years in order to learn to listen more deeply. 

I close with a verse from James 1:19
“My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”  

May God bless you as you hear the invitation to a life of deeper listening. 

The Significance of the Presbyterian Symbol of the Burning Bush.

How and when did Presbyterians adopt the symbol of the burning bush as their central emblem?  

Most other mainline Protestant Churches would have a some kind of an empty cross as part of their emblem.  How did it come to be that Presbyterians adopted the symbol of the Burning Bush as it’s central emblem and not an empty cross? 

Firstly, as most of us would be aware, the symbol of the burning bush is a Biblical one that takes us back to the Book of Exodus and the story of Moses.  Moses had fled his life of luxury in Egypt after he had killed an Egyptian slave driver, to become a herder of sheep in the wilderness. According to the story, one day while herding his sheep, Moses encounters a bush that catches his attention, because it seems to be on fire, and yet not consumed. Drawing closer, he hears a voice telling him to take his shoes off because he iss standing on sacred ground.  There in front of the burning bush, he encounters the Living God who reveals the Divine Name to him, and calls Moses into a new vocation to lead the Hebrew slaves of Egypt to freedom.

It is a powerful and a fascinating narrative, and one that over the centuries has invited a great deal of interpretation. 

In the pre-Reformation Catholic Church, one of the favourite interpretations of the Burning Bush was as a symbol of the Virgin Mary.   Aaron Denlinger a Presbyterian professor from Colorado writes that in the Pre-Reformation Church, the image of the burning bush “...served as a type or prophetic picture of Mary, the mother of Christ, who—just as the bush burned but remained whole—gave birth to the Son of God but remained forever a virgin.”  In France in particular, pre-Reformation artworks depicting the Virgin Mary holding the infant Christ at the centre of a burning bush were very popular in Catholic devotions to Mary. 

Although, almost all of the early Reformers held a very high view and an admiration for Mary, as the Mother of God Incarnate, including the notion that she remained a virgin, they felt that the medieval devotion to Mary combined with intercessory prayers to Mary had spilled over into idolatry. 

And so with the Reformation, came a fresh, reinterpretation of the image of the Burning Bush. John Calvin in particular interpreted the image of the Burning Bush as a symbol of the Church on earth, which faced many difficulties and troubles, and yet was sustained and kept alive by the Spirit of God. In this sense, he believed the Church was forever burning and yet not consumed by the fire. 

As the persecution of Reformed Christians, particularly in France, began to increase, so this image of the Burning Bush became more and more prominent.  The French Reformed Church of the Huguenots in the 16th Century indeed felt like they were a Church under fire, and yet a Church that could not be extinguished, sustained, as they believed, by God’s Presence, and their faith in God’s grace made known in Christ. 

One of the biggest massacres of the Reformation was in France, known as the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew’s Day on 24th August 1572.  It took place during the celebration of the king's sister Margaret’s marriage to the Protestant Henry of Navarre (the future Henry IV of France). Many of the wealthiest and most prominent Huguenots had gathered in largely Catholic Paris to attend the wedding.  In the tragedy that ensued, around 2000 Protestants were murdered in the streets of Paris, which then sparked further massacres of French Protestants in other French cities.  

Lest we think that only Catholics were capable of religious massacres during the reformation, we also need to acknowledge that Martin Luther supported the harsh suppression of peasants who formed part of an even more radical reformation than Luther’s in Germany.  Ten’s of thousands of radical German Protestant peasants lost their lives to fellow Protestants during this time. 

But the Massacre of Saint Bartholomew’s Day in 1572 left an indelible mark on the Reformed Church in France.  It caused of waves of immigration and exile of Huguenots from France, which lead many to move here to Northern Ireland and Scotland, as well as many to immigrate to South Africa, which is why so many South African rugby players have French surnames.  Wendy’s grandmother, who was an Afrikaans speaker in South Africa was very proud of her French ancestry. 

The Massacre of Saint Bartholomew’s Day of 1572 would also have raised the sense that the Reformed Church of France was a Church under fire, and yet sustained by the grace of God. To this suffering and persecuted church they felt they were like the burning bush, burning, and yet not consumed. 

It was eleven years later in 1583 that a small gathering of French Huguenot ministers and elders in the north western French town of  Vitré met for the twelfth national synod of the newly established Reformed Church of France.  It was at this meeting that they decided that their church needed to have an official seal, that they would stamp on any official Church rulings, thus giving these documents a mark of authenticity and authority as they were disseminated amongst the individual congregations.  And so, at that meeting in 1583, it was decided to adopt the symbol of the Burning Bush as their official seal or emblem.  From there, as French Huguenots began to flee France and become exiles in other parts of the world, including in Scotland and Northern Ireland, the emblem of the Burning Bush also spread. 

The earliest use of the emblem in Presbyterian history occurred 52 years later in Scotland when William Mure included it on the title page of his book ‘The Joy of Tears’ which spoke of the troubles of the Scottish Kirk.  But most significantly, it was used in 1691 on official documents of the Church of Scotland. An Edinburgh printer named George Mosman was tasked with printing the records of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and he took the liberty of adding an image of the Burning Bush on the title page.  Although it was done without official permission the Kirk authorities, apparently took no exception to this, presumably because they were familiar with the use of the burning bush symbol by the French Reformed Church, and because they deemed it an appropriate emblem for their own church in light of both the sufferings they too had endured.

Almost by accident then, the Burning Bush became the emblem of the (Presbyterian) Church of Scotland.  And as Presbyterianism spread around the world it became a world-wide symbol of Presbyterianism, everywhere except the United States. 

In Ireland the first use of the burning bush symbol was in Carrickfergus with the first edition of the Presbyterian newspaper called the Banner of Ulster in 1842. The newspaper featured the symbol of the burning bush above an open Bible. Above the emblem were the words ‘Ardens Sed Virens’ (Burning but Flourishing) which remains the official motto of the Presbyterian Church of Ireland. 

It is uncertain, when the NSPCI adopted the emblem, although officially the NSPCI was only constituted in 1910.  It is unclear whether the Presbytery of Antrim, the Synod of Munster or the Remonstrant Synod of Ulster used it before 1910.  But of particular interest, as my Dad has pointed out in a previous sermon, the NSPCI is the only Presbyterian denomination to have a different motto. All other Presbyterian emblems contain a motto to the effect of ‘Burning but not consumed’, or ‘Burning but Flourishing’. The NSPCI instead chose to adopt the motto ‘Ubi Spiritus Domini, Ibi Libertas’ from 2 Cor 3:17 meaning, ‘Where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom’, speaking of the religious freedom that Non-Subscribers had to come to their own religious conclusions.  

I have a sense that the significance of the emblem of the Burning Bush itself might have also had a different meaning for Non-Subscribers than for other Presbyterians. Influenced by new religious ideas and thinking, I wonder to what extent Non-Subscribers might have interpreted the Burning Bush as a symbol of the Presence of God shining through all of creation.  Rev. Dr. Alfred Hall, who taught many of our NSPCI Ministers at the Manchester Harris Unitarian College in Oxford used to speak of the whole Universe as a Sacrament of God’s Presence and Glory. Putting it differently he wrote that the visible world is a garment of an Invisible Reality, reminding us of that beautiful verse in Isaiah 6 which speaks of the whole earth being full of God’s glory. In the story from Exodus, standing before that Burning Bush, Moses caught a glimpse of the Presence of God that shines through all creation, just as the disciples caught a glimpse of the Glory of God shining through the human face of Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration, a reminder that human beings, in other words, you and me, are also are meant to be like Burning Bushes, through which the Glory of God’s Spirit shines; shining from our faces, and through our eyes. 

As Paul puts it in 2 Corinthian 3:18, just one verse after he states that where the Spirit of the lord is there is freedom, he goes on to say: “And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into His image with intensifying glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.” This passage reminds us that like the Burning Bush, we were all created to shine! To burn with the love and light of God, and yet not be consumed. 

Amen.