Monday 11 March 2024
The End Times?
Friday 8 March 2024
Love of God, Love of Neighbour
Mark 12.28-34
Deuteronomy 6.3-6
Leviticus 19.9-18
In our story this morning from Mark’s gospel this morning,
a Jewish scribe tries to get Jesus to answer a question
that he and his fellow scribes had clearly spent a long time debating:
And
the question is this:
‘Which command lies at the heart of
following God?’
In
his reply, Jesus starts with the orthodox answer,
the answer that the scribe would
have expected,
which
is that the heart of discipleship
is the love of God.
In
his answer, Jesus quotes the verse known as ‘the Shema’,
from the book of Deuteronomy.
'Hear,
O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one;
you shall love the Lord your God
with all your heart,
and with all your soul, and with all
your mind,
and with all your strength’
And
really, who could argue with that?
The
whole revelation of God through scriptures and prophets,
from Genesis, to Abraham,
to Moses, to Jesus himself
is consistently that God is God,
and that humans are creatures
who find their true
fullness of life
when God is central to
their lives.
Scripture
also repeatedly warns, that when humans act in ways
that displace God from the centre of
their world,
by
seeking instead to prioritise and worship
idols and constructs of their own
making,
then
the door is opened for hell on earth.
So,
who could argue with the central command
being one of wholehearted devotion
to the Lord God,
to
the exclusion of all other claims on human allegiance.
But
what’s interesting in Jesus’ reply is that he doesn’t stop here.
He goes
on to couple the basic command
to love God above all else,
with
a command from the book of Leviticus (19.18),
to love one’s neighbour as oneself.
For
Jesus, it seems that simply loving God isn’t, actually, enough.
The way of discipleship must also
involve love of neighbour.
Indeed,
you might say
that there is no love of God,
except in the love of neighbour.
You
might say
that for the hope of heaven to have
any meaning,
heaven must come to earth.
You
might even say, as Jesus himself said,
that for the kingdom of God to offer
any meaningful hope,
the kingdom of God must come on
earth, as it is in heaven.
And
so the fact that Jesus combines Deuteronomy with Leviticus in this way
is very interesting, and worth
thinking about a bit further.
The
Deuteronomic tradition within Judaism
found in the book of Deuteronomy and
a few others,
was
a religious tradition primarily concerned
with ensuring faithfulness to the
Jewish God Yahweh,
and
it was centred around this command
to worship no other gods, except the
Lord God of Israel.
This
Deuteronomic worldview, as it’s known,
was one where the worshipping of
other gods
would always lead to sure and
certain disaster,
whilst
the way to a good, prosperous, and Godly life
lay in avoiding the temptations of
idolatry,
and
in remaining faithful
to the covenant relationship with
Yahweh.
By
contract, the Levitical tradition
that Jesus combines with the Shema
from Deuteronomy
brings
a different, additional, perspective:
It defines godliness in terms of
love of neighbour,
and particularly in terms of non-exploitation
of one’s neighbour.
The
verse that Jesus cites from Leviticus
is, as we heard, the culmination to
a list of commands
prohibiting
the oppression and exploitation
of Israel’s weak and poor (Lev
19.9-17).
This
is a list which includes:
caring for the impoverished
immigrants,
not
stealing or dealing falsely with others,
not oppressing one’s neighbour,
not exploiting
employees,
not discriminating against the
disabled,
not
showing partiality or injustice,
and not slandering or bearing false
witness.
The
scribes were the heirs to the Deuteronomic tradition,
and so, the one asking Jesus the
question in today’s reading
would
have been right there with him
when he cited the shema, the command
to love God above all else,
because this was at the
heart of their religious practice.
But,
according to Mark’s gospel,
these same scribes were complicit in
many practices
which exploited and oppressed the
weak and the poor.
For
these scribes, the desire to love their God
had overwhelmed the obligation to
love their neighbour.
Their
commitment to the religious institutions of the Temple system,
had led to their complicity in
systemic practices of exploitation,
where the vulnerable were oppressed
even as God was worshipped.
It
remains tragically true even today
that the church maintains an uneasy
relationship
with those movements which agitate
for social change.
This
has particularly been the case
when churches have sought to align
themselves closely
with the structures of
secular power,
often with the intent of seeking to
sanctify those structures,
but also with the intent
of securing their own ability
to worship God with
impunity.
In
the eighteenth century,
the established church all too
readily sanctioned the slave trade,
whilst distancing itself from those
Christians
who were agitating for
emancipation.
And
in the present day,
the silence of the church on
progressive social change,
or even its opposition
to it,
reflects something of this same
tension
between establishment
interests and cultural transformation.
It’s
significant that even though the scribe who came to Jesus
appeared to agree in theory
with
Jesus’ agenda for social change,
and even though he cited Hosea (6.6)
in agreement with what
Jesus has said,
Jesus still stopped short of
embracing him,
simply telling him that
he was ‘not far’ from the kingdom of God.
This
man had the theory,
but he didn’t have the practice,
and
so, whilst he was close to the kingdom,
he nonetheless remained beyond it.
The
sovereignty of God, it seems,
demands more than orthodoxy,
more than intellectual agreement
with the principle
of ‘love God and love
neighbour’.
There
must also, always, be the practice of
justice
if the worship of God is to have any
meaning.
For
too many years, in our western Christian tradition,
there has been a division between
those Christians
who have prioritised the
love of God
and those who have prioritised the
love of neighbour
Back
in the day, whenever the day was,
this was often characterised as a
division
between the so-called
evangelical churches
and the so-called
social-gospel churches
The
evangelical churches
often looked down on the
social-gospel churches,
who they felt didn’t give sufficient
emphasis
to the transformation of
the individual,
that is brought about
by an encounter with the living spirit of Christ.
Meanwhile,
the social-gospel churches
often looked down on the
evangelical churches,
who they felt didn’t give sufficient emphasis
to the transformation of
the world,
that the spirit of Christ is seeking to bring about
through those who name Christ as their Lord.
This
is the nub of the question:
Is it more important to love your God,
with
all that this entails?
Or is it more important to love your
neighbour,
with
all that this implies?
And
so we’re back to the question
asked of Jesus by the scribe.
And
into this division
echoes the voice of Jesus,
who
sets the two side by side, alongside each other,
and says, very clearly,
that, like a horse and carriage,
you can’t have the one without the
other!
It
seems that for Jesus,
love of God is inseparable
from right treatment of neighbour.
The
right worship of God
requires practical works of justice
and mercy.
To
put it another way,
Deuteronomy needs Leviticus,
every bit as much as Leviticus needs
Deuteronomy.
This
isn’t about winning salvation by good deeds,
it is about the transformation of
human relationships,
across boundaries of power, and
divisions of economics.
Which
brings us to how this might apply to us
in our world,
in our communities, our city,
and in our church.
I
do hope you have etched Thursday 25 April into your diaries,
because this is the day of the
London Citizens Mayoral Assembly,
when
we will be engaging with the next mayor of London
on key issues that matter very much
to the future of our city.
This
will be a great opportunity for us to turn our faith into action,
to fulfil the command to love our
neighbours
by working with others of good faith
to
shape a city that benefits the vulnerable not just the wealthy.
If
you get the weekly News Email,
you will already have received the
Citizens Manifesto,
and
if you’ve had a chance to read it
you will see that we’ll be asking
the next Mayor
to make some very specific
commitments,
which
have the capacity to improve the lives
of some of the most disadvantaged
people in our city.
From
issues relating to work and wages,
such as the Living Wage and Living
Hours campaigns;
to
commitments on refugees and asylum seekers
such as improved access
to English language lessons and
public transport;
to ambitious
asks on affordable housing,
bad landlords, and repairs to social
homes.
All
of these are areas where our action, inspired by our faith,
can make love of neighbour a reality
for those who are literally our
neighbours.
And
we don’t do this alone,
because on that same day,
we
will be hosting an interfaith event here at Bloomsbury
where people from the Christian,
Jewish,
and Muslim communities of London,
will
be coming together to say that our faith in God
unites us in action for the benefit
of the poor and the needs,
more
than the differences of our theology divide us.
Friends,
this is faith in action,
this is love of God, and love of neighbour,
taking shape in our world,
and
we, as the community of this church,
have our part to play at the heart
of it.
So
please, put the date in your diary now,
sign up for your tickets on the link
in the email,
and
let’s make sure that our faith in God and our trust in Jesus,
is good news not just for us,
but for all those who hunger for justice
in our city.
And
so we’re back to the scribe who met Jesus.
He was, I am sure, a very religious person,
with a sophisticated and caring
theology.
But
the system he was a part of
was a system that had turned its
back
on issues of financial justice for
the poor and vulnerable.
Worse
than this, it was a system that was actually complicit
in their ongoing oppression.
This
was why Jesus told the good scribe
that he was only near the Kingdom of God
rather than part of it.
If
we are serious about living our lives
as citizens of the inbreaking
kingdom of God
then
we too need to continue to take seriously
issues of systemic injustice,
both within our own
world
and within the systems
of which we are a part.
There
are many issues
where we as churches can be a
prophetic voice,
calling the world to account for
exploitative and oppressive practices.
Whether
it’s the living wage, or affordable housing,
whether it’s challenging exploitative
lending
or investing in ways that poorer
communities,
we
have a role to play
in the kingdom of God coming on
earth, as in heaven.
And
it starts, for us, with the naming of Jesus as Lord,
but it doesn’t stop there.
So
as we reflect on the encounter between Jesus and the scribe,
we are reminded of the importance
of
not just believing in the values of the Kingdom of God,
but also living them out in our
daily lives.
The
scribe, despite his religious devotion and good intentions,
was part of a system that
perpetuated injustice and oppression.
This
should serve as a wake-up call for us as well,
to examine our own complicity in
systems of inequality
and to take action to bring about
change.
It
is not enough to simply profess our faith in Jesus as Lord;
we must also follow his example
of challenging the status quo and
advocating for the marginalized.
As
citizens of the inbreaking kingdom of God,
we have a responsibility to work
towards
a more just and equitable world.
This
means taking a stand on issues
of justice and righteousness in our
world.
We
cannot be content to sit on the sidelines while others suffer.
We
must be willing to speak out against systemic injustice
and use our voices to call for
change.
This
requires courage, conviction,
and a willingness to challenge the
powers that be,
just as Jesus did.
But
it is not enough to simply speak out; we must also take action.
This
means getting involved in our communities,
supporting organizations that are
working for justice,
and using our resources to make a
difference.
It
means being willing to sacrifice
our own comfort and privilege for
the sake of others.
As
we strive to live out the values of the Kingdom of God,
let us remember that the journey
towards justice is not always easy.
There will be obstacles and setbacks
along the way.
But
we can take heart in knowing that we are not alone.
We are part of a larger movement of
people
who are working towards
a better world,
inspired by the love and compassion
of Jesus.
So
let us go from this place today with courage and conviction,
knowing that the work we do is not
in vain.
Let
us be the hands and feet of Jesus in the world,
working to bring about the Kingdom
of God,
on earth as it is in heaven.
Tuesday 5 March 2024
Flipping Tables
John 2.13-22
The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem.
14 In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables.
15 Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables.
16 He told those who were selling the doves, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!"
17 His disciples remembered that it was written, "Zeal for your house will consume me."
18 The Jews then said to him, "What sign can you show us for doing this?"
19 Jesus answered them, "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up."
20 The Jews then said, "This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you raise it up in three days?"
21 But he was speaking of the temple of his body.
22 After he was raised from the dead, his disciples remembered that he had said this; and they believed the scripture and the word that Jesus had spoken.
A popular internet meme, in Christian circles at least,
involves an artistic depiction of the cleansing of the Temple.
The text that accompanies it reads:
“The next time someone asks you ‘What Would Jesus Do?’
Remind them that flipping over tables and chasing people with a whip
is within the realm of possibilities.”
It’s funny, it’s snappy, and it nicely punctures the façade
of Charles Wesley’s ‘Gentle Jesus Meek and Mild’.
The subtext is clear:
Christians might be all, ‘turn the other cheeky’…
but don’t count on it!
Sometimes they can get shouty and punchy too.
But I have to say that I find this rather disturbing,
and the reason it disturbs me,
is to do with a podcast I’ve been listening to,
about the rise and fall of Mars Hill church in Seattle,
whose pastor Mark Driscoll notoriously promoted
what he described as a more aggressive form of Christianity.
His critique of mainstream churches was that they promoted a weak, passive faith,
and that if people who lived
in what he called the ‘real world’ were to experience God,
then they needed to meet a Christ
who could hold his own under any circumstances.
In other words, they needed a Christ
who could flip tables and chase people with a whip.
In support of this macho, cage-fighter Jesus,
Driscoll turned to the book of Revelation,
a text almost certainly known to the author of John’s gospel.
Driscoll says:
‘In Revelation (the last book of the New Testament),
Jesus is a prize-fighter with a tattoo down His leg,
a sword in His hand and the commitment to make someone bleed.
That is the guy I can worship.
I cannot worship the hippie, diaper, halo Christ
because I cannot worship a guy I can beat up.’
Similarly, in his sermon on the cleansing of the temple,
delivered against a backdrop image of a large whip,
Driscoll says the following:
“Here comes Jesus and he is furious, he is angry…
Now some of you will be very surprised to hear that Jesus got angry
because you have wrongly perceived
that Christianity just means that you be nice.”
What may not surprise you, hearing this,
is that his 15,000 strong church closed down in 2014,
over accusations that its pastor engaged in persistent bullying,
both of staff members and of people from the congregation.
Now, I need to be careful here,
because I am very aware that only one who is without sin
should cast a stone at another for their sin,
and so I don’t want to get too drawn into a direct critique of Mark Driscoll,
who I’m sure has many redeeming qualities.
Rather, my critique is of the attempt to shape Christianity,
as a religion of hyper-masculine aggression;
because this is a project which, I think,
fundamentally undermines the witness of Jesus,
as the one who’s life, death, and resurrection bring an end to violence.
What is at stake here, as far as I’m concerned, is something that really matters,
because it takes us right to the heart
of what it means to be a Christian.
At my church in London we have long taken the view that we are a ‘peace church’:
we have our peace candle lit each week,
we sell white poppies in the run up to Remembrance Sunday,
and we hear sermons on the importance of taking nonviolent direct action.
Of course, not all Christians agree with this stance,
with many drawing on Augustine’s Just War Theory,
to argue that there are circumstances where it is entirely appropriate
for a Christian to engage in violence and warfare.
Indeed, many of the early Baptists took this position,
and fought on the side of Cromwell in the wars of the seventeenth century;
similarly many from our churches
fought in the two world wars of the twentieth century,
and many of us will know, love, and respect people
who serve in the armed forces today.
So, to suggest that we worship a nonviolent God,
made known in the person of a nonviolent Jesus,
and that this means those who follow that revelation,
should also be nonviolent people,
is not an uncontroversial statement.
And it strikes me that any attempt to argue for Christian nonviolence
must grapple with what is going on
in the cleansing of the temple,
which is the single event in the ministry of Jesus,
where he gets anywhere near an act of violence.
So just what was it that got Jesus so worked up,
that he took a whip in his hand, in the Temple courtyard in first century Jerusalem?
The Hebrew Bible was clear that the Temple
should have been the place of divine encounter,
it should have been the place where God’s blessing was made available for all,
and it should also have been the place that defended justice for the weak,
the place where the vulnerable could come for sanctuary.
But the Temple had become a place where the wealthy could gain easy access to God,
while the poor faced often insurmountable costs to purchase their sacrifices.
The Temple was not a place where God was available to all,
it was a place of benefit for the few, not the many.
There is something important here that the author of the gospel wants us to grasp,
about the revelation of God in the person, life, and ministry of Jesus:
and this is that God will not be contained or constrained
within religious institutions;
the blessings of God are not to be the exclusive preserve of the elite.
It’s noteworthy that what Jesus said as he enacted this visual parable,
is different in John’s account compared to the other three gospels.
In Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Jesus declares,
“It is written, ‘My house shall be a house of prayer’;
but you have made it a den of robbers." (Matt. 21.13; Mar. 11.17; Lk. 19.46)
In the fourth gospel, by contrast,
Jesus makes no mention of either prayer or robbers.
Instead he cries:
‘Take these things out of here!
Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!’ (Jn. 2:16)
John’s version of this story isn’t a critique of corrupt mismanagement,
but rather a critique of the entire financial system
that had grown up around the presence of God;
it is a condemnation of the very principle
of buying divine grace and favour.
It was the Temple institution itself that came under Jesus’ condemnation,
because the blessings of a restored relationship with God
had become contained and constrained within an economic system
which privileged the wealthy, and disadvantaged the vulnerable.
When Jesus says, ‘Stop making my Father's house a marketplace’,
the Greek word used here is emporion,
from which we get our word ‘emporium’
meaning a ‘centre of commerce’ or a ‘place of trading’.
The trigger for Jesus’ action in flipping tables and grabbing a whip,
was not sinful behaviour on the part of those trading in the temple,
but the very economic and religious system
that required their presence in the first place.
So when we look at who, or what, is under judgment here,
we find that it’s not individual people being whipped for their corruption.
This wasn’t Jesus taking an action of anger
against acts of personal sinfulness.
Rather, it was an act of condemnation against a societal system
that had turned the free and abundant grace of God
into an economic transaction that generated profit for the powerful,
advantage for the wealthy,
and which kept the poor far from God’s grace.
It would be very easy at this point
to find ourselves making analogies with Martin Luther,
railing against the selling of indulgences;
but where we need to depart from Luther,
is in the alignment he made between corrupt Catholicism
and what he regarded as Jewish legalism.
Jesus was not here condemning Judaism,
he was restoring it,
bringing it back to what it was always supposed to be;
which is a religion of grace,
founded on the free gift of God’s presence.
What was judged was not Judaism,
it was the religious system;
which had turned the gracious gift of the covenant
into a transactional system for the benefit of the privileged.
This condemnation of the Temple becomes even clearer
in the exchange which follows,
where Jesus makes a parallel between the Temple and his own body.
It’s important for us to realise
that Jesus is not here casting himself as a temple-destroyer.
He does not say that he will violently destroy the temple.
Rather, he says to the priests:
‘destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up’;
and we are invited, as enlightened readers of this gospel,
to realise that Jesus is speaking not about the Jerusalem Temple at all,
but of his own body, the new revelation of God’s presence on earth.
The Temple had become a system of violence,
a system of oppression,
and the original readers of John’s gospel would have known
that the Jerusalem Temple was, in fact, destroyed by the Romans,
some thirty years after the death of Jesus.
The author of this gospel, written towards the end of the first century
is inviting his readers to make a comparison
between the violent end of the Temple,
and the violent death of Jesus on the cross.
The oppressive system of religious exclusion
that had grown up around the presence of God in the Temple
met its end at the hands of the Romans in 70CE;
and although the body of Jesus,
also had its moment of violence
at the hands of the Romans on Good Friday,
the testimony of the faithful was that in this case,
violence was not the end of the story
The cleansing of the temple is therefore to be understood
as an enacted parable of the crucifixion,
as a sign of the new way that God is present with people.
Jesus is the nonviolent revelation of God’s abundant grace for all,
No longer is God to be made known through exclusive institutions,
no longer is God to be sold for profit,
no longer will God be complicit in systems of exploitation
And the people of God, the church of Christ,
continually need to re-hear and re-learn
the lesson of the cleansing of the Temple,
if we are to remain faithful to the revelation of God in Jesus.
It is too easy, I think, for us to become focussed
on the conservation of our institutions,
too easy for us to seek the preservation of our Temples,
too easy for us to fall into the trap
of monetising that which God would give freely to all.
And whilst I recognise that we are here today
to mark the generous benefaction of Sir David Robinson,
and the others who founded and funded this wonderful College,
we must keep before us the profound truth
that the wealthy do not get more privileged access
to God than the less wealthy.
So as we consider Jesus’ enacted parable of judgment
against the Temple in Jerusalem,
we need to ask ourselves honestly
whether there are barriers of power and privilege
that creep into our institutional life?
We need to keep ourselves honest about, for example,
our attitudes towards wealth and educational opportunity,
particularly as these intersect with ethnicity, gender, and sexuality.
This is an invitation for us to consider our own situation,
and to identify those barriers
that we construct or perpetuate within our own communities;
barriers of access which keep people from grace,
the negotiating of which turns places intended for the benefit for all,
into a free market economy of privileged access and powerful elitism.
And it is an invitation for us to think once again
about what it means for us to be followers of Jesus,
the one who absorbs the violence of the cross
turning the certainty of death into the possibility of new life for all.
It is an invitation for us to consider what it means for us to be a people of peace
who nonetheless take nonviolent action
to challenge those systems of domination
that embody oppression and exploitation
in our society and in our world.
If the blessing of life in all its fullness,
is not experienced abundantly by all, without exception,
(and I’m afraid it is not),
then, my friends, we still have a task before us
as together we embody the good news of Jesus Christ
in a world of inequality and injustice.
So, who’s up for overturning a few tables?