Shaking Off the Dust

In our lectionary passage today, Mark 6:7-13 describes Jesus sending out the Twelve disciples, instructing them to take minimal provisions and granting them authority over unclean spirits. 

Ched Myers in his book "Binding the Strong Man” views Mark's Gospel as a narrative of radical discipleship where Jesus invites his followers into a peaceful social revolution, a revolution of love.  And we see this being worked out in the passage in 3 ways: 

Firstly, Jesus invites his disciples to practice radical dependence: 

In the passage Jesus orders his disciples to take nothing with them for their journey except a staff; no bread, no bag, and no money in their belts; but to wear sandals and not to put on two tunics.  

By ordering the disciples to take nothing but a staff, Ched Myers suggests that Jesus is challenging the socio-economic norms of the time. Jesus is encouraging his disciples to foster a deeper dependence on God and the hospitality of others, reflecting a critique of the materialism and self-reliance prevalent in the Roman Empire.

This is very challenging for Western Christians today.  We live in a culture that emphasizes material wealth above all things, and so that the radical simplicity of Jesus instructions to his disciples seem quite foreign to us.  

Secondly, Jesus’ instructions to his disciples to a life of radical dependence seems to have had a further purpose of fostering community and solidarity. 

The disciples are sent out in pairs, which Ched Myers would interpret as a model of mutual support and communal living. This emphasis on solidarity, community and interdependence, would have stood in stark contrast to the individualistic and hierarchical structures of the Roman world.

In our Western Culture, along with materialism, one of our supreme values is independence and individualism.  But the danger of holding up independence too highly is that the more independent we become, the more we think we do not need other people and so the deeper the danger for isolation and loneliness. 

We think that ask for help and to reach for support is failure.  By contrast, Jesus’ disciples in this passage are instructed to practice a life of radical dependence and in doing to to nurture the bonds of community and solidarity. 

Thirdly, Ched Myers and other commentators like him suggest that in this passage we see something of Jesus’ Subversive Mission, what some have called Jesus’ conspiracy of love.  

The mission of the disciples is to include preaching repentance and casting out demons, actions that Ched Myers interprets as subversive to the established social order. 

Proclaiming repentance implies a call to change one's way of life and one’s view point, challenging the status quo. 

Casting out demons can be seen as a metaphor for confronting and overcoming anything and everything in life that oppresses people. By contrast Ched Myars suggests that in Mark’s Gospel Jesus is nurturing a society in which all are given the space and the potential to thrive, grow and blossom as the children of God. 

The last thing that I would like to reflect on in this passage are Jesus’ instructions to his disciples to engage in the practice of shaking the dust from their sandals in towns which reject them.   

Verse 11 If any place will not welcome you and they refuse to hear you, as you leave, shake off the dust that is on your feet as a testimony against them.

A few weeks ago I came across the following quote: 

"When we hold onto resentment, we let other people live rent-free in our heads."

This saying encapsulates the idea that holding onto negative emotions, resentments or grudges allows the offending person or situation to occupy mental and emotional space, often to our own detriment. It helps to emphasize the importance of letting go of resentment for one's own mental well-being.  I wonder if this is at least part of what Jesus means by shaking the dust from our sandals. 

Shake it off, says Jesus, and move on. It is a pathway for living with greater psychological freedom. Let go of the resentment and the bitterness. Shake off the dust so that you do not internalize the rejection or let it affect your self-worth.

Secondly, for the disciples, this advice underscores the importance of staying focused on their mission. Instead of dwelling on failure or rejection, they are encouraged by Jesus to continue their work with a clear mind and a clear purpose. Shake the dust off and move on to the next town says Jesus. Shaking the dust off is a way of helping us us to maintain our motivation and to persevere in the face of setbacks.

Thirdly shaking off the dust can be interpreted as setting healthy boundaries. It allows us to acknowledge that we have done our part and that the responsibility for acceptance or rejection lies with the other person and not ultimately with ourselves. Other people’s reactions are outside of our ability to control. Shake the dust off says Jesus, don’t dwell on things that you can do nothing to change. 

Fourthly, the practice of shaking the metaphorical dust off our sandals is an invitation to foster resilience.  Jesus is teaching us that rejection is a part of the journey and not a final verdict on one's life and value. For Jesus, rejection needs to be accepted as part of life and as a temporary obstacle.  

Lastly, by shaking off the dust, Jesus invites his disciples and us to reclaim our agency and our control over our responses. It is often said that we cannot control what happens to us, but we do have control over our responses.  Jesus instruction to shake the dust off is an invitation to make an active choice to move forward, rather than be left churning over anger and resentment in our heads and hearts over and over again. Shake the dust off says Jesus to his disciples and move on. Don’t let people’s rejection of you stick for too long. Best to shake it off quickly and move on with your life. 

And that is clearly the way that Jesus lived. He didn’t dwell on stuff in his head forever, churning it over and over like most of us do. Jesus shook the metaphorical dust off his sandals and moved on with his life.  We see this in the passage just prior to this one.  In last weeks lectionary passage, Jesus is rejected in his home-town of Nazareth.  But he doesn’t dwell on it. He moves on.  In fact his very next move is to send out disciples to further his work and mission in the surrounding towns. He doesn’t let the dust of other people’s rejection cling to his sandals or to mess with his head. And for this reason, Jesus lives as a free person.  And he is inviting his disciples and  to this life of psychological freedom also,  letting go of our grudges, hurts and resentments, shaking the dust off our sandals in order to live as free people in the present embracing life with energy and positivity instead.  

What dust might you or I need to shake off our sandals today in order to stop people living rent free in our heads, so that we, like Jesus might live as free people? What are the resentments that you are living with that are dragging you down that are preventing you from living with joy and freedom today? Amen. 

Would Jesus be rejected by us today? 
​
Today’s Lectionary passage in Mark 6:1-6 recounts Jesus’ visit to his hometown, where he faces rejection by those who knew him growing up.

Mark 6:1-6 (NIV)
    1. Jesus left there and went to his hometown, accompanied by his disciples.
    2. When the Sabbath came, he began to teach in the synagogue, and many who heard him were amazed. "Where did this man get these things?" they asked. "What's this wisdom that has been given him? What are these remarkable miracles he is performing?
    3. Isn't this the carpenter? Isn't this Mary's son and the brother of James, Joseph, Judas, and Simon? Aren't his sisters here with us?" And they took offence at him.
    4. Jesus said to them, "A prophet is not without honour except in his own town, among his relatives and in his own home."
    5. He could not do any miracles there, except lay his hands on a few sick people and heal them.
    6. He was amazed at their lack of faith. Then Jesus went around teaching from village to village.

Ched Myers, in his influential book "Binding the Strong Man," interprets this passage within the broader socio-political context of Mark’s Gospel. Myers argues that Mark's Gospel presents Jesus as a having a radical prophetic ministry challenging the existing power structures and social norms of his day. We saw that in our analysis of last weeks passage of the healing of the marginalised women and the raising of Jairus’s daughter.   
The fact that Jesus message challenged the existing power structures and social norms of his day should not be surprising. When you follow the logic of love and begin to treat people at the bottom of society with equal dignity and respect as those at the top, this becomes a major challenge to the status quo. From this perspective, the rejection that Jesus faces in his hometown can be seen as a consequence of the of his radical message of love, in which all people are honoured as having equal dignity and where the lowest in society are empowered and lifted up.

In this regard, Jesus identifies himself with the tradition of prophets who were often without honour in their own communities. We see this in Ezekiel 2:2-5 where we read of Ezekiel’s calling in which he hears the voice of God telling him: 
     Son of man, I am sending you to the Israelites,
    rebels who have rebelled against me;
    they and their ancestors have revolted against me to this very day.
The implication is clear, that Ezekiel must not expect his message to be well received. He must expect to be rejected by a rebellious people who do not know the ways of God’s love.  

Getting back to Mark’s Gospel, The townspeople’s lack of faith is rooted in their inability to transcend their familiarity with Jesus' ordinary background. Ched Myers suggests that this lack of faith reflects the community's collective resistance to the radical Jesus' message which Jesus is sharing with them.  Their lack of faith in him is an expression of their resistance to change. It is a defence mechanism to preserve the status quo. Who does Jesus think he is upsetting the way society is ordered and challenging the ways we have always done things? 
Lastly, by identifying Jesus as a carpenter and the son of Mary, the townspeople of Nazareth attempt to diminish his authority and his legitimacy. In first-century Palestine, a carpenter was considered a lower-class artisan, and the mention of Jesus as "Mary's son" implies a scandalous background.  Only illegitimate children in first Century Judaism would have been referred to as being the son of their mother.  The implication was clear, the people of his home-town were questioning his paternity and in doing so diminishing he legitimacy and his authority. 

It raises the questions for us today… if Jesus had to have been born into our country and our culture today, how many of us would genuinely feel threatened by his message? What aspects of our culture would Jesus challenge? What marginalised group might Jesus be identifying with or seeking to protect that would make us feel uncomfortable?  In what way would we seek to diminish his legitimacy and authority because we would prefer the status quo not to be challenged? Would Jesus be despised and rejected in our town, culture? 

But there is also another layer of meaning in this passage that points to ordinary human jealousy.  The people of Nazareth’s rejection of Jesus is also clearly motivated by jealousy and resentment.  They are threatened and offended by his success and popularity as a religious teacher. It seems that this is quite a common characteristic of small enclosed communities. When one person rises too high in others estimation the tendency is to want to cut that person down to size. Who does he think he is… we’ll show him.  In our interpersonal relationships, do we resent the success of other people? Or are we able to rejoice in other people’s successes? 

In this regard, there are four Sanskrit words from the Buddhist tradition that might be helpful for us in more deeply understanding the loving way of Jesus: 

In Buddhism, the Sanskrit term used to describe the quality of taking joy in someone else's good fortune is mudita. Mudita is one of the four Brahmaviharas, or "sublime states," which I believe are very descriptive of the person and the way of Jesus:

Metta (Loving-kindness): The wish for all beings to be happy.
Karuna (Compassion): The wish for all beings to be free from suffering.
Mudita (Sympathetic Joy): The feeling of joy at the success and happiness of others.
Upeksha (Equanimity): A balanced and impartial state of mind.

Mudita is specifically the ability to feel genuinely happy for the joy, success, and good fortune of others without jealousy or envy. This quality helps to cultivate positive relationships and emotional well-being, fostering a sense of interconnectedness and community.

In the town of Nazareth, the people are lacking in this quality of Mudita… their ability to love others is limited by their resentment of others success, and in this case resentment towards Jesus. 

In what way do we, like the townsfolk of Nazareth grow jealous and resentful towards others in their success.  Can we be inspired by the love of Jesus, that we can nurture this quality of Mudita that we might instead learn to feel genuinely happy for the joy, success, and good fortune of others without jealousy or envy.

Just some challenging questions for us to consider. Amen. 

Seeing with the Eyes of Divine Love 

In our passage today from Mark 5:21-43 we find two interwoven healing stories: the healing of the woman who has been bleeding for 12 years, and the raising of Jairus’  12 year old daughter. 

It is important to remember that Mark's Gospel is set against the backdrop of Roman-occupied Palestine, where social hierarchies and purity laws deeply influenced daily life. The society was stratified by gender, health status, and religious purity, creating distinct boundaries between the "clean" and "unclean," and between the powerful and the powerless.

In telling the stories of these two healings, the writer of Mark’s Gospel sandwiches one story within the other and so he highlights the connection between the two stories and these two women. Jairus, is a synagogue leader or ruler, and thus he represents the established religious authority, He is also one of those who sits on top of the pile in a heavily patriarchal society that was probably quite similar to the patriarchal culture of the Taliban in Afghanistan today.  On the other hand the haemorrhaging woman epitomizes the marginalised and the excluded, because she is a powerless woman living in a male dominated world, made even worse due to her continuous bleeding, which would have made her ritually unclean.

The woman’s condition had lasted twelve years, paralleling Jairus' daughter's age, which underscores firstly the length and depth of her suffering. According to the laws of Leviticus (15:25-27), her condition made her perpetually unclean, isolating her from society. She had spent all her resources on physicians without finding a cure, leaving her in economic desperation.

By touching Jesus’ cloak, she transgresses the social and religious boundaries of her culture. She breaks the rules of what was right and proper both culturally and religiously. And so her act of faith is both bold and desperate. Jesus' response, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace, and be healed of your disease,” not only heals her physically but also restores her social identity. By calling her “daughter,” Jesus publicly acknowledges her worth and reintegrates her into the community. And so Jesus directly challenges the oppressive purity system that had marginalized her.

Jairus, on the other hand, as we have already noted, is a figure of authority, and yet in the story, he humbles himself before Jesus. His daughter, at twelve years old, stands on the cusp of womanhood. In fact she is officially of marriageable age, which for anyone living in the western world is almost inconceivable to imagine. Can you imagine your 12 year old daughter, niece or grand-daughter being married off at 12 years of age to a man probably at least ten years older than her. It is just unthinkable. What must this have been like for these young girls?  It must have felt like a death sentence to many of these young girls. This is the patriarchal culture she has grown up in. But she is deeply loved by her father.  He is a desperate father who humbles himself before Jesus probably as a last resort.  

But Jesus' journey to Jairus' house is interrupted by the healing of the haemorrhaging woman. Within the culture of the day, this is a rude interruption by a nobody.  The writer of Mark’s Gospel seems to be deliberately juxtaposing not just the difference in social status between this unclean marginalised women and the Synagogue Ruler, but also juxtaposing the faith of the two. When news arrives that Jairus’ daughter has died, Jesus' statement, “Do not fear, only believe,” emphasizes faith over fear, a recurring theme in Mark.

The raising of Jairus’ daughter helps to emphasize Jesus as the Lord of Life. The Mission of Jesus is to raise people up from their places of death, but it also underscores his challenge to societal norms. By touching the dead girl, Jesus again defies purity laws (Numbers 19:11). His command, “Talitha koum,” meaning “Little girl, get up,” is one of those tender and beautiful moments in the Gospels intimate and compassionate, that reveal Jesus personal concern and love, the value that he sees in this little girl before him. 

Ched Myers, in his book "Binding the Strong Man," interprets these stories as a critique of the socio-political structures of the time. Jesus' actions subvert the existing order firstly by prioritizing compassion over ritual cleanliness. Jesus also reveals that he is not a Biblical fundamentalist. He ignores two very clear Biblical laws to act on the side of life and compassion.  Wholeness and compassion are more important that Biblical rules for Jesus. 

Secondly, He is not swayed by the social standing of the synagogue ruler.  He allows himself to be interrupted by a women of low standing and in effect makes Jairus wait.  His willingness to be interrupted by this marginalised women of low standing emphasizes that Jesus sees her as having equal dignity with Jairus. It suggests that when Gods Kingdom begins to reign in our hearts, we begin to see with new eyes and we no longer distinguish between important people and unimportant people.  All become seen through the eyes of Divine Love as having equal value, and equal dignity.  And so the story suggests that the Way of Jesus and the Spirit of Jesus begins to change the way society is ordered and structured and the value we give to different people in society.  

Lastly, the significance of the number 12 in this story shouldn’t be overlooked.  The number 12 in the Bible represents the twelve tribes of Israel (Genesis 35:22-26). By highlighting the fact that the haemorrhaging women has been suffering for 12 years and that the little girl is 12 years some commentators suggest that it is highlighting that all is not well within the nation of Israel.  It is a culture in which women bleed metaphorically and little girls experience a death in their spirits. 

Jesus is creating a new Israel where women no longer bleed and their dignity is restored and where little girls are raised up to new life and new hope. 

I end with words from two of our other lectionary passages that speak of the new life and new hope that life lived in God brings - 

Psalm 30   11 You turned my mourning into dancing;
    you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
12 that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.

Lamentations 3:22-23   “The steadfast love of G-d never ceases, G-d’s mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

Calm in the Storms of Life - 
​A reflection on todays Lectionary Passages: 
Job 38:1-11;  Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32; 2 Corinthians 6:1-13; Mark 4:35-41. 

Friends, I thought for today, and possibly for a few weeks I might preach from the lectionary passages that are set for today which come from Job, Psalms, 2 Corinthians, and the Gospel of Mark. It is perhaps stating the obvious that we are living in troubled times. Turning on the news makes this immediately evident.  And in the midst of these troubled and tumultuous times today's scripture readings invite us to deepen our understanding of God's presence in the midst of life's tumultuous waves, urging us to trust in the unsearchable wisdom and boundless love of God, the Divine Mystery, the Creative Intelligence behind all life.

In Job 38:1-11 we read of a moment of divine revelation as the Divine Voice speaks to Job out of the whirlwind. In the preceding chapters of what is in effect an extended parable, the anonymous writer of the book of Job has been wrestling, through the character of Job, with the suffering and injustices we all see and face in the world. At this point in a very carefully crafted book, the character of Job demands answers from God. I think we all get to this place at some point in our lives:  “If someone is in charge, why is life unfolding in the way that it is.” Yet, when the Divine Voice finally responds to Job’s demand, it is not with explanations, but with questions that reveal the limits of our human understanding when faced with the mystery of life. 

 "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding.
Who determined its measurements--surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it?  On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the heavenly beings shouted for joy?

In this passage, the anonymous Jewish Wisdom writer, is essentially calling his readers to a posture of humility and awe before the mystery of God, the mystery of our world and the universe and the Mystery of Life itself. It reminds us that our finite minds cannot fully grasp the Deeper Wisdom that orders all things. As we meditate on the Divine questions to Job, the writer invites us to surrender our need for control and certainty, embracing instead a posture of trust and reverence.

Turning to Psalm 107:1-3, 23-32, we hear the psalmist giving thanks to God for delivering those in distress. This passage celebrates God’s steadfast love and mighty works. Particularly powerful is the imagery of sailors witnessing God’s wonders in the deep, and crying out to the Lord in their trouble, finding peace as God stills the storm. This is imagery that resonates deeply with our Gospel passage today, where Jesus calms the storm. It is clear that the writer of Mark’s Gospel had this Psalm in mind. 

In our spiritual journey, we can relate to these sailors. The storms of life, whether external or internal, challenge our sense of peace. Yet, it is through these very storms that we experience the profound presence of God. In our deepest distress, when we cry out from the depths of our soul, there is always the opportunity to become open to the deeper reality of the Divine within us, and in awareness of that infinite unchanging Presence within to experience a profound peace that transcends understanding.


Turning to the Epistle reading, in his second letter to the Corinthians 6:1-13, the apostle Paul speaks of the hardships he has endured for the sake of the Gospel—afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labours, sleepless nights, and hunger. Yet, he urges the believers in Cornth to open wide their hearts.  In verses 11-13 he writes "We have spoken frankly to you Corinthians; our heart is wide open to you. There is no restriction in our affections, but only in yours. In return—I speak as to children—open wide your hearts also."

In these last words, Paul summarises much of the Christian Journey, which is a journey towards greater and greater openness of heart, known in the contemplative tradition as "enlarging the heart". It is a call to vulnerability, and to learn to love without reservation, even in the face of suffering. As we open our hearts to God's love, we are empowered by God’s Love to love others more deeply and more genuinely, reflecting the boundless love and compassion of Christ. This passage calls us to reflect on our own spiritual journeys with the understanding that personal and spiritual growth often comes through trials and difficulties.

Finally, turning to Mark 4:35-41 we arrive at the dramatic scene in the Gospel of Mark, where Jesus calms the storm. The disciples, terrified by the wind and waves, cry out, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" Jesus responds by rebuking the wind and commanding the sea, "Peace! Be still!" And in response to the command of Christ, the storm ceases, and there is a great calm. And Jesus asks his disciples "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" Those words are not just directed to the disciples in the story, they are directed to each of us when we find ourselves in the midst of the storms of life:  "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?"

This story is rich with inner meaning. The storm represents the tumultuous challenges we face, both in the world and within our hearts. Jesus’ command, “Peace! Be still!” speaks to the power of Divine Presence to bring peace to our deepest fears and anxieties.  Through prayer and meditation, we learn to hear the Divine Voice voice speaking within our hearts, "Peace! Be still!" calming our fears and strengthening our faith.

And so, as we reflect on these passages today, may we embrace the mystery of the Divine Presence with us and within us as we come to rest ever more deeply in God’s Wisdom and Love. Like Job, may we stand in awe before the Creator's grandeur. Like the psalmist, may we cultivate a heart of gratitude for God’s steadfast love. Like Paul, may we open wide our hearts in love and compassion. And like the disciples, let us find peace in the presence of Christ, who calms every storm. Amen. 

Homily for Father's Day

This Sunday in our Churches in Dromore and Banbridge we are combining Fathers Day with our Children’s service. We have a puppet show planned for the services and so I thought for those who follow online I would reflect briefly on the 4 lectionary passages that are set for us in the Revised Common Lectionary and we will do so through the lense of Fathers Day as we reflect on the gifts and responsibilities of fatherhood. 

In the Old Testament reading Ezekiel 17:22-24, the prophet, speaking on behalf of God, speaks of God taking a tender shoot from the lofty cedar and planting it on a high mountain, where it will grow and flourish, providing shelter and shade. This imagery speaks to the role of fathers in nurturing their children, helping them grow strong and secure in their love and guidance.

Psalm 92:1-4, 12-15 echoes this theme, praising God for God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. The righteous, those who live in alignment with the wisdom of God the psalmist says, will flourish like the palm tree and grow like a cedar in Lebanon. Fathers, in living lives of dedication and faithfulness, model this righteousness, this wholesome way of living helping their families thrive and flourish.

In 2 Corinthians 5:6-10, 14-17, Paul reminds us that we walk by faith, not by sight. Fathers and parents in general are often required to embody this walk of faith, leading their families through uncertain times with courage and trust. Paul’s words about being a new creation in Christ resonate with the transformative power of a father’s love, which, when lived out in faith shapes and molds the character and faith of their children.

In Mark 4:26-34, Jesus shares the parable of the growing seed and the mustard seed. These parables highlight the mysterious and miraculous growth of God's kingdom, which starts small but becomes great and expansive. Fathers, through their everyday actions of love, patience, and instruction, contribute to this growth. They plant the seeds of faith and values in their children, trusting God to bring about the growth in His time.

On this Father’s Day, may we honour and celebrate the fathers and father figures in our lives. They are often like the farmer in Jesus' parable, faithfully sowing seeds of love and faith without always seeing the immediate results. When fathers live in steadfastness and dedication they become instrumental in the flourishing of their families and children, much like the trees in Ezekiel  that grow strong and provide shelter.

Let us pray

O God, Great Wisdom of the Universe in whom we live and move and have our being, 
And who Jesus taught us to refer to as Abba,
on this Father’s Day, we thank you for your Divine Love. 
Like a Father’s Love, Your Love is strong and deep, 
Filled with faith in us, and hopes and dreams for each of us. 
We thank you that your love endures through all obstacles
Always ready to support us. 

We thank you too that your fatherly love is tender and kind towards us
A source of strength and grace in times of difficulty
A shelter from life’s stormy winds
A warm, safe and caring place 
in which each of us can find a home 
and each of us can find our rest. 
In Jesus name. Amen. 

Can Love make a difference? How do we remain focussed on Love?

​Today will probably be the last reflection I will give on Bishop Michael Curry’s book “Love is the Way” although there are a lot of other chapters to be explored with a lot of rich a personal insights in them. 

I would like to share a few other of his thoughts today under the questions: Can Love Really Make a Difference in this World? As well as the question, “How do we keep ourselves focussed on the Way of Love in a troubled and divided world”.. 

Bishop Michael Curry writes that on one occasion he was speaking about how he believed that love could change the world, and he was questioned by a journalist who asked him “Sounds nice, but isn't a world built on love a utopian dream?  This had echoed a similar question from a different journalist ‘Can this really work?’ In other words, is love really an effective tool to change the world?  For a moment Bishop Curry had to ask himself?  Could it be, that getting angry, domineering and violent is in fact more productive than doubling down on love?  

But after a moment of pause Michael Curry replied with a question of his own: “How is the way of the world working for you right now?” Who’s the Pollyanna here? 

He went on to say that the world that we’re living in right now is a world built on selfishness, indifference and even hatred and it doesn’t look good. Amongst a host of other major issues of concern, we have wars and rumours of wars and wee have an earth exploited to a point of crisis, despite that fact that, to quote a protest sign “mass extinction is bad for profit”. 

Michael Curry goes on that what all this adds up to is just that: mutually assured destruction. Which he suggests is an insanity. Suddenly a world built on love starts to look like the sane one. 

And so he believes that not only will love work, but that it’s the only thing that will work.  He goes on to say: Love builds, hate destroys. We have to stop the madness, and you don’t stop the madness with more madness.  He says that love is God’s way, the moral way, but it’s also the only thing that ultimately works. It’s the rare moment he says where idealism actually overlaps with pragmatism and suggests that people don’t often think of Jesus as a strategist. But Michael Curry describes Jesus as a leader who successfully built what was essentially a radical equal rights movement within a brutal Roman Empire, a movement that has continued on for over 2000 years. Michael Curry suggests that you don’t do that without being a mast strategist. And so when Jesus said ‘Love those who curse you’, what Michael Curry calls Jesus famous call to non-violence, he wasn’t just speaking of the kind of behaviour that he believed God preferred, he was offering a strategy, a how-to-guide on changing negative situations into positive ones. 

And Michael Curry notes that when Jesus spoke these words in the Sermon on the Mount, he was delivering them to an oppressed and occupied people, share-croppers, seething and sometimes rebelling against their Roman oppressors. 

The Apostle Paul is sometimes held in contrast to Jesus. It is suggested that Jesus invited ordinary people into a new way of life while Paul created a religion around Jesus. But Michael Curry reminds us that in Paul’s letter to the Romans, in chapter 12 he captures the very spirit of Jesus’ teaching from the sermon on the mount where Paul encourages the Christians living in Rome to follow the way of love, not as a call to give up and to give in to injustice, but as a way to help and heal, to lift up and liberate. As Michael Curry puts it,  ‘to defang and disarm an empire without hurting or harming’ in the process.  We read these words in last weeks service: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  That's exactly what what Jesus was teaching.  Michael Curry writes that it is what Ghandi, inspired by Jesus, would later call ‘pricking the conscience’ – disarming one’s oppressors with behaviour so loving that they can’t help feeling the wrongness of their own hate, thus opening their minds to new possibilities. 

Michael Curry believes that in the end Love is the only thing that works. And although the Jesus movement, otherwise known as the church, has not always practised it very consistently, when it has practised the way of Christ-like Love, it has been like a softening agent in society, transforming society for the better.  Jesus called it being salt and light. He also referred to it as being like yeast or leaven in society.  It only takes a little bit of yeast to affect the whole dough and to make all of it rise. 

One of Michael Curry’s early hero’s was Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King jnr., although he freely admits that he was by no means a perfect person, being both saint and sinner. But one thing that Martin Luther King jnr. did get right was to paint a picture of a dream of a different kind of world not based on racism and segregation, and the method’s by which he sought to achieve that dream were the ways of non-violent action that he had learned in the scriptures from Jesus. 

Michael Curry speaks of how the assassination of Martin Luther King jnr. was an enormous blow, not just to Michael Curry, but to others who had put their hope in him.  For some it raised questions of whether the way of love can really change the world?  For others, it was a reminder that following the way of Jesus in the world is not always easy and can indeed bring with it consequences.  Jesus warns of this, but it doesn’t not stop him from giving his own life for the cause of love, and in doing so he encourages his followers to not give up on the way of love either for it will not be without reward. 

Martin Luther King himself knew how difficult it is to consistently follow the way of love in the face of opposition and violence and so to encourage and help those who were part of his own movement, he laid out for them what he called the Ten Commandments of Non-Violence.  Michael Curry says that number 10 was specific to marching, but numbers 1-9 are more universal in nature. 

I personally was unaware of these 10 Commandments of Non-Violence of Martin Luther King, until I read Michael Curry’s book. I have to say I was not only surprised by them, but also deeply impressed by them.  I can’t go into detail here, but I will try to outline them briefly: 

Commandment 1 – Meditate daily on the teachings and life of Jesus
Commandment 2 – Remember always that the non-violent movement seeks justice and reconciliation – not victory. 
Commandment 3  - Walk and talk in the manner of love, for God is love – this says Michael curry is the call to be the change that you would like to see in the world. Make the dream real by enacting it. 
 Commandment 4 - Pray daily to be used by God in order that all people might be free. (This is about having a vision of love and peace that goes bigger than just one’s own group). 
Commandment 5 – Sacrifice personal wishes in order that all people might be free – Michael Curry invites us to recall that the opposite of love isn’t hate it’s selfishness. 
Commandment 6 – Observe with both friend and foe, the ordinary rules of courtesy.  
Commandment 7 - Seek to perform regular service for others and for the world.  Michael Curry writes that service is the way we can exercise the muscles of love. 
Commandment 8 – Refrain from the violence of fist, tongue or heart – I am guessing that most of us are generally able to restrain ourselves when it comes to the violence of fist.  How do we fair when it comes to the violence of tongue and heart? 
Commandment 9 Strive to be in good spiritual and bodily health – Michael Curry writes that this is the call to put your own oxygen mask on first. Unselfish living doesn’t mean ignoring the self or becoming anybody’s doormat. 

So, can love make a difference? Can love change the world? 

On one occasion, Michael Curry was preaching in at the Howard University’s Rankin Chapel in Washington DC.  Afterwards he was informed that the famous South African Jazz trumpeter Hugh Masekela wished to meet him.  Michael Curry was dumbfounded, having no idea why one of the world’s greatest jazz trumpeters would want to meet him? 

Hugh Masekela was waiting in the vestry and as Michael Curry entered, the jazz trumpeter threw out his hand and started shaking Bishop Curry’s hand vigorously, saying: “Anytime I come across an Anglican Bishop, I make sure to meet him”.  Hugh Masekela went on to explain that it was the Anglican Archbishop Trevor Huddleston who made it possible for him to become who he was.  When Hugh was a teenager he saw a movie based on a famous jazz trumpeter which captured his imagination. The next day he went to the chaplain of his school who was Trevor Huddleston, and Anglican monk and priest from Mirfield West Yorkshire who had chosen to serve the poor community of Sophiatown in Johannesburg.   Hugh Masekela told Father Huddlestone that he wanted to play the trumpet. And seeing the light in the teenagers eyes, Trevor Huddleston went to a local music shop and bought him a trumpet. Handing the trumpet over to Hugh Masekela, Trevor Huddleston had no idea of what an impact that would have on Hugh, or how Hugh would become a world renowned trumpet player. As Michael Curry writes, All he knew was that he had seen love glimmering in the eyes of Hugh and he did what he could to add heat to it’s light. Trevor Huddleston’s gift of the trumpet was a gift of love that changed a young black teenagers life growing up in Apartheid South Africa. 

Hugh Masekela is not the only one to have been impacted in a profound way by Fr Trevor Huddleston. Archbishop Desmond Tutu told a similar story how when he was a young boy, he contracted polio at a time when there was still no vaccine. He ended up in hospital where he stayed for months.  Father Trevor Huddleston would come and visit him in hospital and bring him books to make sure that he didn’t fall behind in his school work.  It was the love and care shown by Fr Trevor Huddleston that inspired Desmond Tutu later in his life to become an Anglican Priest which later led to him become Bishop of Johannesburg and then Archbishop of Cape Town, playing an enormous role in advocating for the end of Apartheid in South Africa and giving the people of South Africa the Dream of the Rainbow Nation as a vision for a New South Africa to aspire for.  T One has to concede that dream for a New South Africa has not been fully realised yet. Indeed corruption has eaten away at that dream. But at the time it could be said that Archbishop Desmond Tutu played a key role in preventing South Africa from descending into civil war. 

Can love make a difference in this world? Trevor Huddleston’s acts of love and kindness to Hugh Masekela and Desmond made an enormous difference, and particularly in the case of Archbishop Desmond Tutu had positive consequences that go far beyond any ability to predict.  

I am reminded of the story of the starfish by Loren Eiseley. It all started when...

A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her with amusement.

She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! You can’t save all these starfish. You can’t begin to make a difference!”

The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied,

    “Well, I made a difference for that one!” 

The old man looked at the girl inquisitively and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. 

Michael Curry asks, What kind of a world would we live in if even half the people in it were committed to living in the way of Love. What if it was even just 25% of people. What kind of difference could we make together? 

Making Do, Making New – Love is the Way

In Chapter Three of his Book, Love is the Way, Bishop Michael Curry speaks of his grandmother, and how when she was cooking or baking or prepping she told them stories.  She was African American, the daughter of share-croppers, the grand-daughter of former slaves.  She had grown up in a difficult world, where everyday was a struggle.  She went to high school and later taught children in the old country segregated schools. She worked as a domestic, cleaning homes while rearing children and a family.  She never went to college, but she did everything in her power to make sure that her children did.  She buried some of her own children, including Michael Curry’s own mother.  She buried a husband and lost loved ones fighting in the 2nd world war in segregated units.  

He writes: Times were hard and sometimes dangerous, but they always made do with what they had and what life threw at them. He says that was the phrase that she would always use: “We made do”. 

And one expression of making do, was his grandmother’s ability to cook with whatever she had in her pantry.  He says she could take the grits and make them gourmet.  With all sorts of scraps and bits and pieces, she could create a meal for her family that tastes like love feels. A meal so delicious that you could forget your troubles, at least while you were at the table. 

It had been how she had learned to cook from her parents and grandparents who had been slaves.  As slaves they weren’t given a lot. They were often given what was not wanted, scraps otherwise thrown away.  Part of the genius of cooking with scraps was that folk learned how to ‘make it stretch’. They took the proverbial two pieces of fish and five loaves of bread and fed a multitude.  He says: My ancestors took a little and made a lot.  

I get the sense that this would have been true for a lot of people living in Ireland a few generations ago.  Making do.  That was true of my grandmother, my mom’s mom.  My grandfather was a brick layer and an alcoholic. Not many of his wages actually made it home. My grandmother had to learn to make do. 

Bishop Curry writes that making do is not the same as giving up. It’s a way of figuring out how to both survive and thrive. Making do is about taking the scraps of life that might be in front of one and making something new and miraculous out of it. Taking an old reality and creating a new possibility.  

He writes that in the New Testament there is a passage in which the Apostle Paul reflects on the logic of love: Let Love be genuine; hate what is evil, hold onto what is good.  The passage concludes with the words: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” 

He says this is the methodology, the way, the logic of love. Overcome evil with good.  Take their garbage and serve it back gourmet. That is the way of love that Jesus was teaching, and living out in his own life. Making do! 

Michael Curry suggests a recipe for making do: 

The first ingredient for making do is tradition: And by tradition, Michael Curry is referring to tapping into the wisdom of the past.  The reason that his grandmother was able to make do, to continuously make the most out of difficult circumstances is that she had learn to do so from her ancestors, her parents and grandparents.  

When we need guidance on how to live a life grounded in love and guided by love, making lemon juice when life throws lemons at you, we don’t have to start from scratch. There already exists a wisdom from people of faith who have struggled and yet made do. 

Religion at it’s worst tries to tell us the way something should be done, because it has always been done this way. That is religion at it’s worst. Dogmatic, authoritarian, unable to bend or change or adapt to new circumstances.  But Michael Curry suggests that religion at it’s best should be a treasure chest of wisdom gleaned from the faith journeys of people who have gone before.  Like his mother who learned to cook from scraps and bits and pieces that others would have thrown away, so religion at it’s best should provide skill’s for living and loving when life seems to present to us the scraps. Learning to make the most in the midst of difficult circumstances. Helping us to keep our eyes focussed on the light when it feels like darkness has descended. 

The Second Ingredient for Making do he suggests is Imagination. 

Imagination is crucial if you are going to take life’s scraps and turn them into something gourmet as his grandmother did, and he points us to Michelangelo.  Michelangelo, one of the great artists of the renaissance, when asked how he was able to produce such amazing sculptures would say that the sculpture already existed in the block of granite.  It was simply his job to discover it. That, says Michael Curry is imagination. 

Michael Curry goes on to quote the anonymous saying that problems are solutions in disguise.  In the language of psychology, he says it is called reframing. Seeing a situation in a new light and in doing so finding new inspiration to move forward. 

The importance of imagination can be found in many of stories of the Bible, like the story of Moses and the Burning Bush. He notes that Professor Walter Breuggemann once observed that the moment of liberation for the Hebrew slaves in Egypt did not begin when Moses told Pharoah: “Let my people go!” Likewise it did not begin when the plagues brought their Egyptian slave masters to their knees. Neither did it begin when the waters of the Red Sea were parted allowing slaves to pass through to freedom on the other side.  Michael Curry writes that the freedom movement led by Moses begins at the burning bush, when God invites Moses to imagine a world without slavery.  It begins in the imagination. That’s where any movement begins that seeks to help us humans become more humane.  And so Michael Curry writes that making do begins when someone dares to imagine another possibility, one that is greater than what appears to be the reality. 

In Matthew 18:3  Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

It was the late Urban Terry Holmes who believed that what Jesus may have been referring to was that wonderful children’s characteristic of imagination.  And like wise, Bishop Curry says, if we are to behold the reign of God, that perfect reign of God’s peace, God’s shalom, God’s salaam, what he call’s the dream of God, then we need to become like little children and use our imaginations to imagine a new future, to dream a new dream for humanity. 

The last ingredient for making do says Michael Curry, is God. 

Bishop Curry writes that he grew up in a community where God was a given.  He acknowledges in the book that not everyone grows up in that way.  But within his community, the givenness of God gave people like his grandmother the strength to believe that life could be different and the constant assurance that whatever struggles or battles they were facing there was always a possibility that their current circumstances could be disrupted by a power greater than themselves.  It gave them the ability to look at life with the eyes of hope.  That out of sadness, joy could still come. That out of despair there was always the potential for new possibilities.  I think even people who don’t have a traditional faith have discovered that when they have acted on a moment of inspiration and embarked upon something that seemed bigger than themselves it seemed like the universe had begun to conspire with them in bringing a new possibility into being, as though there were hidden forces at work aiding and assisting them.  For Michael Curry and the community he grew up in, the language that they used to describe such experiences was the language of God.  To believe in God for them, was to believe in the possibility of the impossible, that they could tap into a strength beyond their own when life was at it’s most difficult.  And so Michael Curry writes that that’s why prayer matters. Prayer matters he says because when God (or some conception of a Higher Power) is brought into the equation of life, something changes. New possibilities emerge.  Making do, requires a little bit of faith… a faith that new possibilities are possible even when it may seem impossible. 

Bishop Curry ends the chapter by referring to Howard Thurman a theologian who made a big impact on Martin Luther King Jnr.  Howard Thurman spoke of his own grandmother who had been a former slave.  She had told of how the slaves would have two church services every Sunday. The first service was arranged by the master, and the authorised preacher would preach a sermon whose essential purpose was to instruct them on how God would want them to be better slaves. 

But after the formal service, the slaves would then hold their own worship service and the slave preacher would preach another sermon, one that would always have ended with the words: “You are not slaves, you are the children of God”. It was an act of spiritual defiance and spiritual resistance. 

In those words, the old preacher ripped off the givens of reality and offered a new possibility. “You are not slaves, you are the children of God”.  

Bishop Curry writes: No matter what the world and life may say, or how it may make you feel, you are the children of God.  And that essential identity of being children of God gives us the energy to make do, to find strength in a power greater than our small selves, to take whatever it is that life throws at us and to make do, and not just to make do, but, indeed, to make new. Amen. 

But this I know.... (Why Did Jesus Die?) - Dr Tony Moodie 

About 15 years ago the Methodist Church in Britain published a new hymn book. The committee that worked on it wanted to include ‘In Christ alone’. They recognised it as an outstanding modern hymn not just for the words but also the tune, composed by Keith Getty. But the committee asked for permission to change the words, ‘Till on that cross as Jesus died / the wrath of God was satisfied’. They wanted to change the words to, ‘the love of God was satisfied’. The request was refused and the reason given was that the words, ‘the wrath of God was satisfied’ are supported by Scripture and by theological tradition. So, ‘In Christ alone’ wasn’t included in the new Methodist hymn book.

The Methodist Church in Britain wasn’t the only Church with with concerns about that line of the hymn. About the same time, the Presbyterian Church of the USA requested permission to include it in their new hymn book. They wanted to change the words to, ‘Till on that cross as Jesus died/the love of God was magnified.’ The Presbyterian committee thought that getting permission would be a formality because the hymn had already been published with those altered words in another hymn book, used by some American Baptists. But the publishers of that hymn book had slipped up. They hadn’t requested permission, and that caused them a lot of problems. 

In the end the Presbyterian committee issued a statement saying that the song had been removed from the list of contents for their new hymn book. They said that they had done that with deep regret but they couldn’t support the idea that Jesus died on the cross to appease God’s anger. The Methodist committee’s reasons were pretty much the same. 

Is God wrathful or angry, and does that anger need to be appeased or satisfied before God can accept us? 

When I was about 18 years old I left the Anglican church that I’d been brought up in, and started attending a different church. I felt quite vulnerable there. Most of the people in the church were well instructed in the doctrines of their faith while I didn’t really know what I believed, and I wasn’t sure if I believed what everyone else in the church believed. They seemed to have all the answers but I was struggling with questions about the Christian faith that troubled me. Some of those questions came up in the Bible study group that I joined, and that met before the morning worship service. 

I liked and admired the leader of the Bible study group, John. John was one of the most attractive Christians I’ve known. But I couldn’t make sense of the answer that he gave one Sunday to the question, ‘Why did Jesus die?’. John said that although God loves us, the justice of God demands that we should be punished for our sins. And so, instead of of us being punished, our punishment fell on Jesus. Or, in the words of the hymn, ‘on that cross as Jesus died, the wrath of God was satisfied’. 

I’ll come back to those words, and the explanation of why Jesus died. For now I’ll say something about another hymn that speaks of Christ’s death on the cross. I was familiar with the hymn, ‘There is a green hill far away’ from when I was a child. And I’d sung it often without being bothered by what it said about the death of Jesus. To be honest I’d never thought much about its words:

There is a green hill far away
Without a city wall;
Where the dear Lord was crucified
Who died to save us all.

We may not know, we cannot tell,
What pains He had to bear;
But we believe it was for us
He hung and suffered there.

He died that we might be forgiven,
He died to make us good;
That we might go at last to heaven
Saved by His precious blood.

If I had stopped to think about the words of the hymn I might have had questions. How are we saved by the death of Christ? How are we made good by Jesus dying? It’s not wrong to ask questions. From the earliest days of Christianity, Christian thinkers have asked questions like that, and they have tried to provide answers to those questions.

But the words of ‘There is a green hill far away’ and the words of ‘In Christ alone’ are a little different. In the old hymn there’s no mention of wrath. It just says, ‘He died that we might be forgiven’ … ‘Saved by his precious blood’. Unlike the hymn, in Christ alone, it doesn’t explain how Christ’s death on the cross makes it possible for us to go to heaven. It just says, ‘we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there’. That’s similar to the New Testament. The New Testament says that the birth, life, death and resurrection of Christ has somehow changed our relationship with God. But in general it doesn’t give much in the way of explanations of how that happens.  

The hymn, ‘In Christ alone’, does give an explanation – in those words ‘the wrath of God was satisfied’ even though it’s very brief. It’s a summary of the explanation that John gave to the Bible study group: By sinning we break God’s laws and that incurs God’s wrath, so we deserve to be punished. But God wants us to be saved, so Jesus died on the cross in our place, taking the punishment instead of us. 

In technical theological language that’s called the penal substitutionary theory of the Atonement. It’s part of the theological tradition that was referred to in the reasons for not changing the words of the hymn ‘In Christ alone’, and it’s one of a number of different theological explanations, or theories, of how Christ saves us. 

It isn’t wrong to want explanations – or to give them. Christian theologians through the centuries have done their best to explain their belief that Christ came to save the world. Their explanations or theories all draw from Scripture in one way or another although each theory tends to draw on different verses of Scripture to develop its explanation of how Christ saves us. 

One explanation of why Christ died, that was popular amongst Christians in the centuries immediately after the time of Jesus, was quite different. It was based on the verse in Mark’s Gospel where Jesus says that he did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Early Christian theologians took the idea that Christ gave himself as a ransom and developed it into a theory to explain how Christ’s death saves us. They said that, because of sin, the human race was held prisoner by the devil. And when Jesus was arrested and crucified he was giving himself as a ransom to the devil, so that the devil would release all those who he held prisoner.  

In the ransom theory, instead of Christ paying the price for our sin by satisfying the wrath of God, Christ paid the price for us to be released from imprisonment to the devil. That may have been helpful as a way to explain Christ’s death to some people but for others it raised more questions that needed to be answered. And that’s true of every explanation – every theory about why Jesus died. This doesn’t mean that we should give up trying to understand things. It’s good to try to understand things, and explanations can be helpful up to a point, although some explanations may be better than others. 

No explanation is completely satisfactory, and it’s probably not a good idea anyway to try to impose our explanations on other people. This is where the non-subscribing principle is helpful. The NSPCI statement of faith says that the faith of this denomination is governed by the Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments but it doesn’t prescribe any particular way of understanding Scripture.

The NSPCI leaves it to members of the Church to interpret the Scriptures themselves in the light of their own consciences and using their own reasoning abilities. I would like to add, for myself, that we also need to read and understand the Bible through the Spirit of Christ living in our hearts and minds. But that’s a topic for a different sermon on another occasion. The important point is that Non-Subscribing Presbyterians don’t have to sign up to any particular explanation or theory. 

All the theories that theologians develop to try to explain why Christ died are based on images that they find in Scripture. The Bible uses many different images of what the saving work of Christ is like: it’s like a ransom, it’s like a debt being paid for us, it’s like the penalty for law-breaking being cancelled, it’s like the sacrifice of a lamb in the temple, and so on. 
Our Old Testament reading from Isaiah ch. 53, about the Suffering Servant of the Lord, was taken as a prophecy about Christ from the earliest days of Christianity. In that passage there are several different images of what the suffering of the Servant of God is about: He has borne our infirmities, he has carried our diseases, he was wounded for our transgressions, he bore the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. 

I’m sure that some of those images were in the mind of the author of that old hymn, ‘There’s a green hill far away’, when she wrote the words, ‘we believe it was for us he hung and suffered there’. The hymn ‘In Christ alone’ is based on some of the images of Isaiah 53 – he was wounded for our transgressions, he bore the punishment that made us whole.
It doesn’t pick up on other images from Isaiah 53 – he has borne our infirmities, he has carried our diseases, by his bruises we are healed.

I’m going to say more about just one biblical image, not one from Isaiah ch. 53. It’s an image in the passage we read from ch. 2 of the Letter to the Ephesians. It’s the image of a dividing wall that has been demolished. The first thing we should notice is that it isn’t concerned with judgement. It’s concerned with relationships. It’s not about laws that have been broken. It’s about walls that have been broken, broken down – walls that have separated human beings from God and from each other, and that have now been demolished. It’s about broken relationships and about relationships being restored. It’s about reconciliation between human beings and God, and it’s about reconciliation between human beings and other human beings. 

Verse 14 of Ephesians ch. 2 says that Christ has destroyed the dividing wall that separated Jews and Gentiles. But the more basic problem is the barrier that has grown up between human beings and God. Verse 13 says, ‘in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near by the blood of Christ’. Through the life and death of Christ, the wall between humanity and God has come down, and so all other dividing walls that the human race has allowed to be built up must fall too. 

To change the image a bit, we could say that through Christ, God has cleared away the rubbish that we’ve put in the way of our relationship with God. And, because of that, we have the opportunity also to clear away the rubbish that we’ve allowed to separate us from other people the divisions between Jews and Gentiles, but also the feuds and jealousies that divide families and neighbours, the hatreds that divide nations All those, and still others, can be cleared away.     

In Ephesians ch. 2 we aren’t given a theory to explain all this. We’re given a picture. And it’s vital for our spiritual and emotional health that we see that in this picture the blockage to our relationship with God is all on our side. There’s no wrath on God’s side, holding back God’s love for us. Although there is wrath – but it’s on our side.     
       
It’s there in the injustice, exploitation, oppression, conflict, aggression, violence, cruelty, and all the other things that are part of the mess that this world is in.  On God’s side, there is only love, because God is love. The New Testament doesn’t only tell us that God’s love breaks down the barriers between us and God. It tells us that if we open ourselves to God’s love we will be enabled to do what is needed on our side to break down the barriers that divide people from each other. And often there a lot of work to be done.

Ephesians ch. 2 says that all this is made possible through Christ, through the cross. If we have inquiring minds we will inevitably ask, ‘But how does that actually work?’ ‘How does the death of one man, Jesus, dying on a cross, bring all this about?’. Our final hymn is a meditation on the death of Christ. It keeps coming back to the words, ‘I cannot tell“. When I was preparing this sermon, I was originally going to say that I would leave it there, with those words, ‘I cannot tell’. I cannot tell how the death of Christ saves us. But there are clues in the New Testament as to what was involved in the life, and death, and resurrection of Christ. 

I’ll end by very briefly pointing to just one of those clues. In 2nd Corinthians ch. 5 verse 19 we read this: God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself. God wasn’t somewhere way up there, looking down on Jesus. God was in Christ, in the life of Christ on earth and in the death of Christ. God, who is through all and within all, according to Ephesians ch. 3, is in Christ, and in us. To use another image, God is the fabric of everything that is. And what God does in Christ, God does everywhere. 

But I must stop here before getting into yet another theory about the death of Christ to add to all those other theories. Perhaps, our final hymn does give the best answer to the question, ‘How does Christ’s death break down the walls that divide us from God and from each other?’,  I cannot tell ... I cannot tell how silently he suffered, as with his peace he graced this place of tears, But this I know, he heals the broken-hearted, ... and stays our sin, … and calms our lurking fear.          Amen.