Monday 29 April 2024

The Difference Love Makes

A sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church 5 May 2024  


1 Corinthians 13:1-11

Good morning, and welcome.
 
Today, we gather to consider a passage that is not only familiar to us
            – it is, after all, the wedding passage –
but also deeply resonant to our understanding
            of what it means for us to be a community of love.
 
As we dive into this beautiful piece of scripture,
            we will explore its central theme of love
            and how it calls us to live out our faith in community.
 
We will also consider the insights of René Girard on mimesis,
            the human tendency to imitate and desire what others possess,
shedding light on how this aspect of human nature
            influences our capacity to love as Christ loved us.
 
René Girard's theory of mimesis, or mimetic desire,
            suggests that humans have a fundamental tendency
            to imitate the desires of others.
 
If you’re new to the words ‘mimesis’, or ‘mimetic’,
            just think of the word ‘meme’,
which is used to describe a viral image or video that circulates online,
            as people copy and share from one account to another.
 
Mimesis is fundamentally about desiring
            and taking something from another person
            and making it our own.
 
But according to Girard, our desires
            are not solely based on individual preferences or needs,
but rather are significantly influenced by what others desire.
 
If we see someone else wanting something,
            we end up wanting it too!
 
This means that our wants and actions
            are often shaped by what we perceive others to value or pursue.
 
Mimesis can lead to both positive and negative outcomes.
 
On one hand, it allows for the transmission
            of culture, values, and skills within a society.
 
But on the other hand, it can result in rivalry, envy, and conflict
            as individuals compete for the same desired objects or goals.
 
Girard further proposed the concept of the "scapegoat mechanism,"
            which suggests that societies often resolve mimetic conflicts
by directing collective violence toward an arbitrarily chosen individual or group,
            thereby restoring unity and social cohesion.
 
In our world, we often see scapegoating at work
            in the way people are chosen as the object of hatred
                        for some innate minority characteristic,
            such as their gender identity or sexuality,
                        or for their socio-economic status,
            such as being a refugee or asylum seeker.
 
The hatred and mob-violence directed against such people on social media,
            is a classic example of mimetic desire at work with scapegoating,
as people seek unity for the majority
            through the scapegoating of the minority.
 
Girard saw this mechanism at work in the crucifixion of Jesus,
            who, as an innocent victim, exposes the futility of scapegoating
            and reveals a pathway toward non-rivalrous, self-giving love.
 
So this morning, I’d like to invite each of us
            to open the deep desires of our hearts
to the profound wisdom in Paul’s great hymn to love,
            allowing its timeless message to challenge and transform us.
 
As we reflect on the patient, kind, and selfless love that Paul describes,
            may we discover the transformative power of divine love
and its ability to overcome our human limitations,
            by releasing us from the scapegoating mechanisms
            that ensnare us as either perpetrators or victims.
 
And may we leave here today with a renewed commitment
            to embody this love in our relationships, our communities, and our world.
 
*Point 1: The Primacy of Love*
 
Verse 1:
            ‘If I speak in the tongues of humans and of angels but do not have love,
            I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.’
 
In Paul’s great love poem, we are met with a powerful reminder
            of love's primacy over all other gifts and abilities.
 
Paul emphasises that no matter how eloquent our speech,
            how deep our understanding, or how generous our actions,
if they are devoid of love,
            they are empty and devoid of true significance.
 
In our congregation, we strive to foster an inclusive and liberal environment,
            welcoming people from all walks of life
            and embracing the diversity of gifts and abilities within our community.
 
In light of Paul's message,
            we are reminded that love should be the driving force
                        behind our actions and interactions,
            guiding us to build relationships based on mutual respect,
                        understanding, and compassion.
 
René Girard's theory of mimesis provides, I think, a fascinating insight
            into the dynamics at play within human communities,
            including communities of faith.
 
The tendency to imitate and desire what others possess
            can lead to competition, envy, and division.
 
However, as we strive to live out the love described in 1 Corinthians 13,
            we can create a powerful countercurrent
            to this destructive mimetic force.
 
By celebrating the unique gifts and abilities of each individual
            and recognizing the inherent worth of every person,
we can cultivate an atmosphere of love, acceptance, and unity.
 
In a world often divided by differences,
            we are called to model a love that transcends these divisions.
 
Just as Paul declares that love is patient, kind, and selfless,
            so we too are called to embody these qualities
            in our interactions with one another.
 
When we prioritise love, we create a space
            where everyone's gifts and abilities can be valued and nurtured,
                        rather than being seen as a threat,
            so contributing to a richer and more vibrant community.
 
Furthermore, this emphasis on love's primacy
            challenges us to examine our motivations and intentions in all that we do.
 
Are our actions driven by a genuine desire to serve and uplift others,
            or are they fuelled by a need for recognition or validation?
 
We are encouraged to cultivate a spirit of humility and selflessness,
            always striving to place love at the centre of our shared life together.
 
*Point 2: Love as a Counter to Mimesis*
 
As we continue looking at Paul’s hymn to love, we come to verses 4-7,
            where Paul describes the attributes of love:
patience, kindness, generosity, humility, and selflessness.
 
These qualities stand in stark contrast to the potential pitfalls
            of René Girard's concept of mimesis – envy, rivalry, and violence.
 
As we explore the connection between mimesis and love,
            we discover how love serves as a powerful antidote
            to the destructive forces of mimetic desire.
 
When our desires are shaped primarily by what others desire,
            we may find ourselves trapped in a cycle of envy and rivalry,
            constantly striving to outdo or possess what others have.
 
In extreme cases, these rivalries can escalate
            into violence and scapegoating.
 
Love, however, offers a transformative alternative
            to the destructive aspects of mimesis.
 
As Paul writes, "Love is patient, love is kind.
            It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking,
            it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs."
 
In these words, we find a blueprint for relationships
            that reject the pitfalls of mimetic desire
and instead prioritize empathy, compassion, and understanding.
 
When we embrace love as described in these verses,
            we counteract the envy and rivalry inherent in mimesis
by celebrating the unique gifts and value of every individual.
 
Rather than competing for validation or status,
            we recognize the inherent worth of each person
            and seek to build them up in kindness and humility.
 
And so love teaches us to be patient with one another,
            acknowledging that each of us is on a unique journey.
 
Furthermore, love encourages us to be selfless,
            seeking the well-being of others
            rather than solely pursuing our desires.
 
This selflessness stands in contrast
            to the self-seeking nature of mimetic desire
and fosters a sense of unity and collaboration
            within our community.
 
As we strive to live out the love described in 1 Corinthians 13,
            we create an environment in which envy, rivalry, and violence
            lose their grip on our relationships.
 
In their place, we cultivate a spirit of mutual respect,
            understanding, and compassion,
building a community that reflects the boundless love of Christ.
 
Through patience, kindness, and selflessness,
            we discover the transformative power of love
and its ability to overcome the limitations of our human nature.
 
*Point 3: Love's Enduring Nature*
 
We come now to verses 8-11, which reveal love's enduring nature.
 
Paul writes,
            "Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease;
            where there are tongues, they will be stilled;
            where there is knowledge, it will pass away."
 
This passage emphasizes the transient nature
            of prophecies, tongues, and knowledge
while asserting love's eternal quality.
 
In Girard's theory of mimetic desire,
            our wants are continuously shaped by the desires of others,
creating an insatiable cycle of wanting
            and pursuing what we perceive others to have.
 
This never-ending chase for fulfilment through mimetic desire
            ultimately leaves us unfulfilled and searching for something more.
 
Love, however, offers a different path
            – one that transcends the fleeting nature
            of human desires and achievements.
 
While prophecies, tongues, and knowledge serve a purpose in our lives,
            they are ultimately incomplete and temporary aspects of our existence.
Love, on the other hand, provides a lasting foundation
            upon which we can build genuine unity and fulfilment.
 
In these verses, Paul declares that love "never fails."
 
This assertion underscores the unwavering and steadfast nature of love,
            which does not depend on external factors or achievements.
 
Instead, it flows from the depth of our hearts
            and our connection with one another through Christ.
 
Love's eternal quality allows us to move beyond the limitations of mimetic desire
            and experience a sense of wholeness that transcends our worldly pursuits.
 
As we embrace love, as described in 1 Corinthians 13,
            we discover a source of strength and unity
that endures even as our circumstances change
            and our knowledge evolves.
 
Furthermore, love offers a path to lasting fulfilment
            by focusing our attention on the well-being of others
            and the shared bonds that connect us.
 
By prioritizing empathy, compassion, and understanding in our relationships,
            we create a sense of interconnectedness
            that satisfies our innate desire for belonging and purpose.
 
In essence, love's enduring nature provides a powerful antidote
            to the insatiable and transient aspects of mimetic desire.
 
As we cultivate love in our lives and communities, we build a foundation
            that supports lasting fulfilment, unity, and transformation.
 
This eternal love serves as a beacon of hope,
            guiding us toward a more profound understanding of ourselves
            and our relationships with one another.
 
*Conclusion:*
 
In conclusion, our exploration of 1 Corinthians 13
            and the insights of René Girard
has led us to a deeper understanding of love's transformative power
            and its ability to overcome the limitations of mimetic desire.
 
As we reflect on Paul's words and Girard's theory,
            we are called to consider how we can apply these lessons
            to our daily lives and relationships.
 
By embracing love as the foundation of our interactions with one another,
            we can create a countercurrent to the envy, rivalry, and exclusion
            that often result from mimetic desire.
 
Love, as described in 1 Corinthians 13, is patient, kind, and selfless
            – qualities that foster unity and understanding within our communities.
 
As members of this congregation,
            let us commit to practising love in our daily lives.
 
Let us be patient with one another,
            recognizing that each individual is on a unique journey,
and strive to be kind in our words and actions.
 
Let us prioritise the well-being of others,
            seeking to build them up rather than compete with them.
 
As we cultivate a spirit of love and understanding,
            we will begin to see the transformative effects
            on our relationships and our community.
 
Envy and rivalry will give way to empathy and compassion,
            generating a sense of interconnectedness and belonging.
 
In doing so, we will create a more inclusive and compassionate congregation
            that reflects the boundless love of Christ.
 
Furthermore, let us remember that love's enduring nature
            offers a path to lasting fulfilment and unity.
 
By placing love at the centre of our shared life,
            we can transcend the fleeting aspects of human desires and achievements
and experience the wholeness that comes
            from genuine connection and understanding.
 
So in closing, let us take the lessons of 1 Corinthians 13 and René Girard to heart,
            committing ourselves to the practice of love and the pursuit of unity.
 
As we do so, we will build a congregation
            that embodies the transformative power of love
            and serves as a beacon of hope and compassion for all.
 
May we embrace this calling
            and, in doing so, experience the profound joy and fulfilment
            that comes from loving one another as Christ loves us.
 
*Prayer:*

Loving God, we come before you with gratitude
            for the profound gift of love that you have bestowed upon us.
 
As we reflect on the teachings of 1 Corinthians 13 and the insights of René Girard,
            we are reminded of love's transformative power
            to overcome division and create unity in our lives.
 
May we embrace love as the foundation of our relationships,
            seeking to be patient, kind, and selfless
            in our interactions with one another.
 
Help us to cultivate empathy and understanding,
            celebrating the unique gifts and experiences
            that each individual brings to our community.
 
As we strive to overcome the limitations of mimetic desire,
            guide us in the practice of genuine compassion and humility.
 
May we prioritize the well-being of others
            and recognize the inherent worth of every person,
fostering an environment of inclusion and belonging.
 
Through the power of your boundless love,
            we believe that our congregation can be transformed.
 
May we be a beacon of hope and unity
            in a world that often struggles with division and conflict,
reflecting the enduring nature of your love in all that we do.
 
Thank you for the gift of love, which unites us
            and offers a path to lasting fulfilment.
 
May we embody this love in our daily lives,
            bringing honour to your name
and sharing your boundless grace with all those we encounter.
 
Amen.
 

Monday 22 April 2024

The Personal Touch

A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church
28 April 2024


Acts 18.1-4
1 Corinthians 1.10-18


As a way into our reflection on scripture for this morning,
            I’d like to invite you to take a moment
            to think of those people who have been particularly important to you
                        in the story of your life.
 
They might be teachers, friends, family,
            parents or grandparents, people from church or work;
take a moment and hold their names in your mind,
            and give thanks for them, and for the influence they’ve had on you.
 
<pause>
 
We all of us have people we can give thanks for,
            individuals who have mattered to us and influenced our lives.
 
And of course there will also be those whom we would rather forget,
            people who have made life difficult for us,
                        who we have struggled to relate to,
                        and possibly struggled to forgive.
 
Individuals are complex, we all are,
            but, and here’s the thing: individuals also matter.
Communities such as churches, or even towns and cities,
            are made up of individuals, personalities: people.
 
Here at Bloomsbury, we aren’t a collective corporate entity,
            we’re a group of individuals called into mutual care and action.
 
Of course, at this point I have to pay tribute to one of the best moments
            in that wonderful film, Monty Python and the Life of Brian.
 
Brian is exhorting the crowd that has started following him,
            and hailing him as their leader.
 
He tells them them:
            ‘Look, you've got it all wrong! You don't need to follow me.
                        You don't need to follow anybody!
            You've got to think for yourselves!
                        You're all individuals!’
 
The crowd reply, in perfect unison:
            ‘Yes! We're all individuals!’
 
Brian tries again, telling them:
            ‘You're all different!’
 
But again the crowd reply, as with one voice:
            ‘Yes, we are all different!’
 
But then one lone voice from the crowd calls out:
            ‘I'm not...
 
And the crowd reply, again in one voice:
            ‘Shhh!’
 
It’s very clever, very Python, and very funny,
            but it also makes a point,
which is that individual identities can become lost
            when group-think takes hold,
and that religious groups are often the context
            in which people’s distinctives are subsumed and voices silenced.
 
And what struck me quite forcefully as I was reading through the passages
            in preparation for this morning,
was the number of personal names mentioned
            in these two short passages.
 
Here they are now:
 
·       Paul
·       Aquila
·       Priscilla
·       Claudius
·       Chloe
·       Apollos
·       Cephas
·       Crispus
·       Gaius
·       Stephanas
 
Ten names, two of them women;
            all of them individuals who, for better or worse,
            played their role in the drama of the early years of the church in Corinth.
 
There can sometimes be a tendency for us to de-personalise
            the various characters we meet in the New Testament.
 
Some of them we just ignore:
            I mean, when did you last hear someone
            preaching a sermon about Cripus, or Gaius, or Stephanus?
 
But then sometimes we go the other way,
            as we mythologise and eulogise the ‘big’ characters such as Peter and Paul,
who become for us kind-of stock characters,
            more archetypes of idealised discipleship
            than individuals with personalities, flaws, and graces.
 
You’ve heard it in a hundred sermons:
            Peter is the comedically inept failure who comes good in the end,
while Paul is the classic villain-turned-hero
            who consistently exercises a superhuman strength of character
            in the face of overwhelming threat and opposition.
 
Take a look at our stained glass windows,
            the four great biblical preachers:
            John the Baptist, Peter, Jesus, and Paul.
 
Their placement up there,
            looking down on whoever dares to stand in the pulpit,
sets them up as idealised characters, perfect preachers of old,
            and if we’re not careful, we lose sight of the individuals,
                        the people, and the personalities,
            that lie behind the names on the page or the images in the glass.
 
So this morning, I want us to keep alert for the personal touch,
            to look for how the people that these names speak of
            featured in the life of the early church;
because in their significance
            maybe we can discover something of the significance of our own lives
            and of the people that have played their part in our stories.
 
So, to Corinth.
 
I went through Corinth when I was about fourteen,
            in a car driving from Athens where my uncle lived,
            to the southern tip of the Peloponnese
                        where the family village was located.
 
We stopped for a few minutes, to have a look at the Corinth Canal,
            this amazing four-mile cut through the isthmus,
            linking the Aegean and Ionian seas.
 
Plans for a canal here date back to before the time of Jesus,
            but it wasn’t actually constructed until 1893.
 
So when Paul was staying in Corinth,
            goods needing to be taken from one side to the other
                        had to be taken off the ships, hauled across,
                        and loaded onto other ships on the other side.
 
There were even some ships that were designed
            so the whole ship could be hauled across
            without needing to be unloaded at all.
 
This trade and transportation made the city of Corinth incredibly wealthy,
            as it could charge a tax for all the goods passing through;
and at the time of those people mentioned in our readings this morning,
            Corinth was a bustling, multicultural, and vibrant city,
            with two ports and a thriving industry.
 
When Paul arrived there, he quickly teamed up with a married couple,
            two Jewish Christians named Priscilla and Aquila.
Between them, they exercised the original ‘tent-making’ ministry
            by, well, quite literally making tents.
 
These days we often use this phrase, tent-making ministry,
            to describe people who have a self-supporting ministry,
where they work a normal job for their money,
            and then volunteer their time in the service of their church.
 
As churches are struggling financially, particularly in rural areas,
            this kind of ministry is becoming more and more common.
 
And as we see in our reading, it has strong precedent,
            with Paul, Priscilla, and Aquila all self-supporting missionaries
            founding the Christian congregation in Corinth.
 
Aquila and Priscilla had fled to Corinth from Italy
            due to Emperor Claudius' decree expelling Jews from Rome.
 
The background to their becoming displaced refugees
            was that whilst the Roman Empire sometimes allowed conquered peoples
                        to maintain their religious practices
            this was always condition on them also acknowledging the Roman deities
                        and worshipping the Emperor.
 
This was a problem for Jewish people,
            whose faith required an unwavering commitment to the God of Israel.
 
So Jews would refuse to worship the Emperor,
            and refuse to make offerings to the Roman gods.
 
This devotion to a single deity created tension with the empire
            and, at times, led to persecution,
            as seen with the expulsion of Jews from Rome in 49 CE.
 
Despite these challenges, individuals like Aquila and Priscilla,
            not only persevered in their faith
            but also became leaders in the early church,
earning recognition from Paul in his letter to the Romans.
 
There is a challenge here to us, I think
            because in our world people who are displaced are big news.
And I think that the church should be at the forefront
            not only of welcoming refugees and asylum seekers,
but also in recognising the leadership and contribution they can make
            to the community of faith.
 
After some months in Corinth, Paul then moved on
            and eventually ended up in Ephesus, in what is now western Turkey,
and from Ephesus, he had a series of correspondences
            back with the church in Corinth,
writing possibly as many as five letters to them,
            although only two of these seem to have survived
            and made their way into our Bibles.
 
We pick up this so-called Corinthian correspondence this morning in chapter 1,
            straight after the initial greetings
            with which all ancient letters started.
 
And it seems that what had prompted Paul to write
            was that there were problems at Corinth
            with division in the church.
 
The issue seems to have been about which strong character
            in the leadership of the early church
            people were following.
 
Some were following Paul, some Apollos,
            some Cephas (or Peter as he was better known),
and others were just being annoyingly super-spiritual
            by saying they followed Christ, and not any human being!
 
Yeah, we’ve all met Christians like that…
 
Anyway, Paul tells them not to be so obsessed with who baptised them;
            as if it matters who did the dunking!
 
The important thing, for Paul,
            was whether the faithful in Corinth were living out
            the truth of their baptism in their daily lives.
 
I’m sure many of us can relate to this issue of hanging our faith
            onto a particular person’s ministry.
 
After all, most of us have a soft spot in our memories
            for the minister who baptised us, or nurtured us in our faith,
            or welcomed us when we turned up at church.
Maybe you even gave thanks for them a few minutes ago.
 
And most of us prefer the preaching of one person over another…
            Are you a Rob Bell person or a Brian McLaren person,
                        a Tom Wright person or a John Piper person?
            Are you a Simon person or a Nigel person,
                        Or are you a Ruth person or a Brian person,
                        a Barrie person or a Howard Williams person?
 
Can those who have come after ever measure up
            against the idealised and mythologised preachers of days gone by?
 
We all do this, and Paul points to a great danger
            in this factionalising and idolising of preachers:
The danger is that of confusing the messenger with the message.
 
The message, the gospel of love, forgiveness, and new life,
            is timeless and universal,
but the messenger is a flawed human,
            capable of both good and bad.
 
I don’t know if you’ve been following the story
            of the downfall of Mike Pilavachi,
            the founder of the Soul Survivor youth church.
 
Many of those whose faith flourished under his ministry,
            have been left reeling in the wake of the stories of abuse.
Does this invalidate everything he said and did?
 
It’s a difficult question, and one faced
            whenever a high profile leader falls from grace.
 
This is why Paul says, in v.18,
            that it is the message of the cross itself which is most important,
            not the words that different preachers use to frame or communicate it.
 
And there is an ambiguity in the Greek here
            which may, or may not, be deliberate.
 
When Paul says that the message of the cross
            is ‘foolishness to those who are perishing,
            but to us who are being saved it is the power of God’,
 
it is not clear whether he is referring to the message ‘about’ the cross,
            or whether he is referring to the message ‘of’ the cross,
in other words, is this about telling the story or narrative of Jesus’ crucifixion;
            or is it about what the cross itself says to us
            about who God is and how God is made known.
 
I tend to think that it is this second option that makes the most sense,
            because the message of the cross to each of us
                        is that God speaks salvation not through the words of humans,
                        but through decisive action in history in the death of Jesus.
 
If salvation is found in the message about the cross,
            that makes us mere spectators or consumers of the message.
and there is a risk of reducing our faith to passive observation
            or intellectual understanding,
which may not inspire active engagement in living out our faith.
 
But if it is found in the message of the cross,
            then we are invited into that story
as participants in what God is doing to turn the world upside down
            by realigning our understandings of power, authority, suffering, and death.
 
This perspective invites us to actively participate
            in the transformative narrative of salvation,
as we live out in the world the truth of the cross
            as the place where God fully embraces
            the depth and breadth of human experience.
 
We’re back to the personal touch here,
            this is about God becoming fully human in the person of Jesus,
identifying with us in all our unique humanity,
            redeeming us, loving us, and holding us.
 
The first-century world was very familiar with the techniques of rhetoric,
            and public speaking was regarded as something of an art form.
 
They knew what it was to be consumers of messages;
            you could go to the forum in any Roman town,
                        the equivalent of Speakers’ Corner in London,
            and hear people talking eloquently about any kind of subject you desired.
 
But Paul wants to differentiate the word of salvation
            spoken by God in the event of the cross,
from the words of those
            who would merely speak about the cross.
 
The crucifixion is not just another subject
            for public spectacle or rhetorical excellence.
It’s not a theological conundrum to be discussed,
            dissected, and debated.
 
For Paul, it is the cross itself which speaks,
            and it does so through the brute fact of its existence in history.
 
And when it speaks,
            the cross cuts through the babbling words of well-intentioned preachers,
proclaiming its own message of Christ crucified,
            of God-on-the-cross,
of the all-powerful becoming the utterly powerless.
 
The message of the cross is an ugly message of suffering,
            a controversial message of cosmic disruption,
            and a dangerous message of political and social revolution.
 
And there is nothing that can, or should, be done by preachers
            to sanitise or beautify the shock, the horror,
                        the ‘scandal’ as Paul puts it,
            of the word of the cross.
 
The communication of the power of divine love
            through the murderous and barbaric act of execution by crucifixion,
speaks directly to us of the radical lengths to which God is prepared to go
            to make God’s own love for humans known.
 
The cross speaks a message of the extent of God’s love,
            which cuts through mere human words
to send a message of forgiveness, acceptance and welcome,
            direct from God’s broken heart to ours.
 
This is the message of salvation,
            and it comes from God to me, and from God to you.
 
And so we’re back at the personal touch,
            with the valuing of each created person
            by the one who made them.
 
People matter, individuals matter.
            You matter, and I matter.
We matter to each other, and we matter to God.
 
And God loves us, and forgives us,
            and welcomes us into the new and radically constituted kingdom of God.
 
As we take our place in this kingdom
            alongside all those others who hear and respond to the word of the cross,
we play our part in the transformation of the world
            as the kingdom of God is made known on earth,
            as it is in heaven.

Monday 15 April 2024

Turning the world upside down

A Sermon for Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church  
21 April 2024



Acts 17.1-9
1Thessalonians 1.1-10
 
For our sermon today, I have chosen the title, "turning the world upside down,"
            a concept that, as we will discover, has roots in the early days of Christianity
            but which remains as relevant as ever in our modern times.
 
As we navigate a world that often feels tumultuous
            and fraught with uncertainty,
we can find inspiration in the bold and courageous acts
            of those who have dared to challenge the status quo
            and bring about meaningful change.
 
When we think of individuals who turned the world upside down,
            names like Martin Luther King Jr., Malala Yousafzai,
            and Greta Thunberg may come to mind.
 
But in our everyday lives, we are faced with moments
            where we must choose between complacency and action.
 
We are called to draw on our faith and the teachings of Christ
            to shape our responses to these challenges.
 
As we explore this idea of "turning the world upside down,"
            let us consider how we can embrace our calling
            to be agents of transformation in our communities and beyond.
 
Over the next few minutes, we will delve into scripture,
            reflect on the wisdom of spiritual leaders,
            and look to the world around us for guidance.
 
My hope is that by the end of this sermon,
            we will all leave here feeling inspired and empowered
            to turn our own corners of the world upside down
            with love, compassion, and a deep commitment to justice.
 
But let’s be realistic, turning the world upside down
            is neither comfortable nor easy;
rather, it is threatening, and capable of triggering disproportionate responses,
            both individually and societally.
 
Just as Paul, Jason, and the others in Thessalonica
            discovered for themselves in the middle of the first century.
 
The Narrative Lectionary takes us this week
            into the world of the early Christian
            church-planting and missionary movement,
and we encounter these early pioneers proclaiming the gospel of Christ
            and discovering to their cost
                        that even the simple statement that ‘Jesus is Lord’,
                        is actually a world-shaking utterance.
 
To understand this we need a bit of context.
 
Thessalonica was a major port city
            in what is now northern mainland Greece,
and in the first century
            it was the capital of the Roman province of Macedonia.
 
Everything about the city, its religious, political, and social life
            was built around the mythology and ideology of the Roman empire.
 
Its citizens worshipped the Emperor alongside the other Roman gods;
            they benefitted from the pax Romana, the ‘peace of Rome’,
            with the Roman army permanently garrisoned in the town;
and its economic and social life
            revolved around the trade from its prosperous port
            trading with the far flung territories of the empire.
 
If you were fortunate enough to a citizen of Thessalonica,
            you were part of a carefully constructed synthesis
            of religion, politics, and economics.
 
And as Paul, Silas and Jason were about to discover,
            you mess with that at your peril!
 
As with other ancient cities from that time,
            there was a small local Jewish population,
            with a synagogue for Sabbath worship.
 
The Romans typically allowed Jews in such situations
            some measure of freedom of religion,
and Paul often started with the synagogue
            when he arrived in a new city to plant a church there.
 
But what is unusual about Thessalonica
            is that there also appears to be a large number of non-Jews
            who were nonetheless attracted to the Jewish faith.
 
Acts calls them ‘devout Greeks’ in v.4 of our reading.
 
What happens next in the story
            is that whilst Paul has limited success
                        in converting the Jews in the synagogue to believing in Jesus,
            a large number of these devout Greeks joined him.
 
It makes a kind of sense
            - these are people who want to follow the Jewish God,
            but can’t fully do so because they are not ethnically Jewish.
 
So when this Greek-speaking Jewish preacher called Paul comes along
            saying that the God of Israel
                        has reached out beyond the ethnic Jews
            to also include Gentiles
                        through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ,
            you can see why they would be attracted to his teaching.
 
However, from the perspective of Romans,
            this is a potentially dangerous situation.
 
The Jews were granted toleration in part because
            they were a non-proselytising people:
            they didn’t seek to make converts of the Gentiles.
 
But here we have a dangerous breakaway sect from Judaism
            which is aggressively conversionist in its ideology;
                        seeking converts not just from within Judaism
                        but from the Gentile world too.
 
And the problem is that converting to the worship of Jesus as Lord
            is not just a religious commitment;
            it has other far reaching ramifications too.
 
We’ve already heard how religion, politics, and economics
            were inextricably interwoven in the society of Thessalonica,
and how to change just one aspect of that
            was to risk unravelling the whole thing.
 
The risk here, posed by Paul and Silas’s preaching,
            is that if people started worshipping Jesus as Lord,
            they might stop worshipping the Emperor as Lord,
and then the Roman armies would have to step in,
            and the trade that hinged on the Empire would the threatened,
and before you knew it the whole of society was unravelling.
 
It’s no wonder that the disgruntled Jews from the synagogue
            joined with gentiles from the city
            to hunt down Paul’s associates to try and silence them:
 
They were turning the world upside down,
            politically, socially, economically, and religiously.
 
And so we have this show-trial of Jason and his friends,
            who have to pay bail to get their freedom back;
a trial intended as a stark warning of what will happen
            to those who similarly threaten the status quo of the empire.
 
But the thing is, Paul and his friends wouldn’t be silenced.
 
Even after leaving Thessalonica, Paul wrote back to them
            to encourage those Christians still in the city
            in the face of their ongoing experience of conflict.
 
Because from Paul’s perspective,
            silence wasn’t an option.
 
He looked around him at the Roman Empire,
            and saw not a sweet system of mutual benefit,
but a world dominated by an evil systemic power,
            with humanity and creation together subjected
            to the forces of violence and death.
 
For Paul, the proclamation of Jesus as Lord
            was not simply a personal message of individual salvation,
it was rather a message of good news for all people,
            for society, for the whole world…
and that was a message he couldn’t allow to be silenced.
 
And here’s the thing.
 
We are the heirs of that gospel of good news for all people,
            and we too are called to share a message
            that still has the capacity to turn the world upside down.
 
And like Paul, and Jason, and the others in Thessalonica,
            we too will discover that when we proclaim that message
            we will also face opposition.
 
Taking a stand against the idols of our age is not an easy thing to do,
            and you don’t turn the world upside down
            without rattling a few cages.
 
Bloomsbury has faced opposition over the years
            for certain stands we’ve taken and continue to take,
            and this is to be expected.
 
However, I wonder if we can hear Paul speaking to us
            through these ancient texts,
encouraging us, like he encouraged the Thessalonians,
            to persevere, to keep the faith,
            to continue in acts of radical courageous welcome,
                        and in caring for others and looking out for them.
 
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor and Nazi resistor,
            who was murdered by the Nazis on 9 April, 1945
            for his stand against Hitler and The Third Reich,
lamented how easily the church
            can become complicit with power and nationalism.
 
He said:
 
“Christianity has adjusted itself much too easily to the worship of power.
            It should give more offence, more shock to the world, than it is doing.
Christianity should . . . take a much more definite stand for the weak
            than to consider the potential moral right of the strong.”
                                                                                    London, 402-3[1]
 
Whether we are challenging the narratives of nationalism
            that lend legitimacy to state-sanctioned violence,
or the cultures of religious exclusion
            that lead some to think themselves unworthy of God’s love and acceptance,
or the unspoken collusions of class
            that declare some lives less worthy than others,
the proclamation of Jesus as Lord
            remains as politically, economically, and socially disruptive
            as it ever was in the first century.
 
So we will continue to declare the Kingdom of God
            over the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.
 
Not because we are a Christian country,
            but because Christ cares for all those who live in this country,
            and because we believe that Jesus is Lord.
 
We will continue to declare that God is love and that in God is no violence at all,
            which means that all violence is evil,
            whatever justification people may try to marshal for it.
 
We will continue to declare that all are welcome in God’s house,
            because Christ died for all, regardless of their ethnicity, social status,
            gender, sexuality, or any other marker of our common humanity.
 
And we will continue to hold the powers that be in our world to account
            whenever they place the values of the market
            over the value of human life;
we will continue to resist the myths of nationalism and British exceptionalism
            when they whisper to our self-interest,
                        suggesting that the sacrifice of the vulnerable
                        is a price worth paying for long term financial gain.
 
We are called to be the community we have been shaped to be,
            a community who love each other, look out for each other,
                        who proclaim together that Jesus is Lord of the whole earth;
            so challenging those narratives of violence, scapegoating, and fear
                        that keep people silent and subservient to the forces of domination.
 
At the end of the day, for our faith to have meaning for us,
            it has to take shape in the world,
            and that shape will be world-transforming.
 
We have a call to participate in the remaking of society,
            through partnerships such as London Citizens,
as we echo in our lives the call of Jesus to love our neighbours.
 
From the Magnificat of Jesus’ mother Mary,
            singing that through her son the world would be transformed,
the theme of reversal runs through the Christian gospel.
 
And we have a message of good news for those who have no hope,
            a message of life for those who live in fear of death,
            a message of love for those who hate either themselves or others.
 
And such a message is always a challenge to those powers
            that would keep things as they are.
 
We, like Paul, and Jason, and Silas, and Silvanus, and Timothy,
            and all the unnamed women who stood with them,
are called to seize the courage of our convictions
            and play our part in turning the world upside down.


[1] https://bylinetimes.com/2020/04/30/truth-must-rise-church-silence-over-covid-19/