Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church,
23 April
2017 11.00
1 Peter
1.1-12
Listen to this sermon here:
https://soundcloud.com/bloomsbury-1/2017-04-23-simon-woodman-exiles-in-a-familiar-land-series-on-1-peter-week-1
Do you ever have the sensation that the world you live in
is slipping
away from you,
slithering and sliding about beneath you,
such that
you feel destabilised, disconnected,
discombobulated
even?
Do you ever find yourself wondering what happened to the old
certainties,
longing
nostalgically for those different days
when
you knew on what basis
you
stood where you stand, and what it meant?
Well, for now at least, those days are gone.
If we’re honest, they’ve been disappearing for a while,
as the
train of Western culture has pulled out from the station of Modernity,
leaving some of us stranded on the platform
and not
sure what’s happening next,
looking with confusion, envy, or derision,
at those
comfortably riding the train away from us.
The fact is that long-established political convictions are
being re-cast,
and treasured
religious orthodoxies are being questioned
both from
within the church, as well as from without.
It can all seem very disorientating.
And then there’s politics:
‘Events,
dear boy, events’, as Harold Macmillian may have put it.
Just this week, the fixed term parliament act was suspended,
and once
again the nation goes to the polls.
But who we are voting for, and on which issues,
is possibly
less clear as we enter this forthcoming election
than in any
other of recent decades.
The world has turned on its axis,
and we are
no longer where we once were.
And no amount of voting, hoping, or campaigning is going to
turn it back...
So what does it mean to be a follower of Christ
in this changing
and uncertain world?
What does it mean to seek the path of faithful discipleship
when the
paths have all moved
and the
signs have all been taken down?
How are we to relate our faith to a society
that seems
sometimes so far removed from the society we want to live in
that we can
feel like aliens and exiles in our own land?
These are the questions addressed by the little book we call
1 Peter,
which the
lectionary is inviting us to engage with over the next few weeks
as we
journey from Easter to Pentecost in the Christian year.
If you’ve
not encountered 1 Peter in depth before,
I think you’re in for a treat,
albeit a challenging one.
Graham
Stanton, the late great New Testament scholar, described it as,
‘One of the finest
literary and theological writings in the New Testament.’
Actually, I
have a story about Graham Stanton.
Originally from New Zealand, he
taught New Testament
at both King’s College
London and Cambridge University.
The College
in Cambridge where he was a fellow was Fitzwilliam College.
And my old friend Simon Perry,
known to many of us here
at Bloomsbury as, ‘the other Simon’,
or ‘1 Simon’ as we might
perhaps call him,
was chaplain at Fitz before he came
to be minister here at Bloomsbury;
and he invited me once,
many years ago, to preach in his chapel at Cambridge.
I have
always been grateful to him for not pointing out to me, until afterwards,
that the smiling man on the front
row was the great Graham Stanton himself.
Anyway,
back to 1 Peter, and our series for the next few weeks.
It’s one of
those books that is easy to overlook,
or to just concentrate on a couple
of the more famous passages;
which is a
shame, because it has much to say to us
about what it means to live lives of
faithful discipleship
in the midst of uncertain and
hostile times.
It was
probably written towards the end of the first century, from Rome,
to be circulated around a group of
churches in Asian Minor.
It lists
Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bithynia
as the areas it is written to,
and the
ordering of these probably gives us a clue
as to the route the messenger would
have taken around the major cities,
leaving a copy of the letter with
the small congregation in each before moving on.
Its first
verse gives its author as, ‘Peter, an apostle of Jesus Christ’,
and traditional church teaching has
suggested that this should be taken at face value,
and that what we have
here are the written words of Simon Peter himself.
However,
there are good reasons for thinking
that the letter might more credibly
be an example
of what is known as pseudonymnity,
(with a silent P, of course,
as in swimming pool).
There was
an established practice in the ancient world,
of writing a letter as if it came from an already dead
person of note or importance.
This wasn’t
the same thing as deceit or forgery of course,
because if the person was already known
to be dead,
then
no-one suddenly getting a new letter in their name
would think it was
actually from them,
writing from
beyond the grave or something.
Rather,
it’s best to think of it as a literary exercise
in ‘what the person might have said
to us if they were still alive today’.
We have
plenty of examples of this in the New Testament,
including, of course, 2 Peter, but
also some of Paul’s letters
(esp. 2 Thessalonians, 1
& 2 Timothy, Titus).
It’s probably
best to think of 1 Peter in this category;
it’s written in the tradition of Simon Peter, but probably
not by him.
Anyway, we
do know that it’s written from Rome
because it signs off with a greeting
from the church in Babylon (5.13),
and we know
that in the early church
Babylon was often used as a cypher,
or code, for Rome.
Interestingly,
the tradition of naming the empire as ‘Babylon’ is still with us to this day.
I don’t know if you’ve ever listened
to any Rastafarian music? (I know Duncan has).
Well if you
do, you will find them using the term Babylon
to refer to those human governments
and systems in our own time
which they believe are in rebellion
against the rule of God.
In the
first century, something similar was taking place,
as the story of the Jewish exile in
Babylon,
from several hundred
years earlier,
was used to describe the
relationship between the people of God
and the ruling empire of
Rome.
In many
ways, this theology of exile
lies behind a lot of what we will meet
in this letter over the next few weeks,
so it’s
worth spending a few moments understanding what is going on with it.
For the
Jewish nation, the Babylonian exile had been a defining moment.
Jerusalem had fallen to the invading
army from Babylon,
and a significant swathe of the
population had been taken into exile.
It was
whilst they were in Babylon,
separated from their promised land,
knowing their temple was destroyed
and their king murdered,
that they
developed a form of Judaism that could survive
even when dislocated from the land
of Israel itself.
In other
words, they learned how to be the faithful people of God in exile.
It is this
insight which the writer of 1 Peter takes,
and applies to those people in the
congregations to whom he is writing.
For these
Christians of the first century,
life was experienced as one of
dislocation.
Their
decision to follow the path of Christ had led to them being removed,
forcibly on occasions, from their
old lives,
and thrust into a new way of being.
Because
early Christians refused to worship the Emperor,
they found that they were no longer
able to access the market places,
because everyone was
expected to make an offering to the Emperor cult
as part of their
transactions.
They faced
economic isolation, and financial disadvantage,
because of their desire to
faithfully follow Christ.
But it was
more than just economics;
by worshipping Christ, rather than
the pantheon
of Graeco-Roman gods of
the empire,
they found themselves at odds with
their families,
ostracized from the
friends,
cut off from their
social support networks.
In many
ways, the situation facing Christian converts in Asia Minor in the first
century
has resonances with the situation
facing Christian converts
in many countries around the world
today.
Just this
week, for reasons relating to our church member
who is making an asylum claim on
religious grounds,
and who has been detained for the
last two weeks,
I’ve been
doing a lot of reading about the situation
facing Christian converts from Islam
in Bangladesh,
and as part
of this I’ve been in contact with an expert in international mission,
who wrote an amazing letter of
support for our friend.
Let me tell
you a little of what he says the situation is like in Bangladesh,
and you will see how closely it
matches the situation
faced by the recipients of 1 Peter.
He says:
You will be aware that after
many years of Bangladesh being a strongly Islamic yet tolerant country, the
situation has changed rapidly in recent years. Over the last ten years we have
been aware of an increase in hostility from Muslim groups towards Christians
and those who would espouse a worldview other than a strict interpretation of
Islam.
Most Muslim converts have to live as secret believers for fear of their
lives. To declare their faith publicly, which many do, is to risk losing one’s
family and friends and, of course, one’s life. Whilst the constitution
theoretically safeguards the right to practice the religion of one’s choice,
successive governments have realised they cannot ignore the pressure that comes
from Islamic militants within their own borders.
In truth there is now considerable evidence of many coming to faith in
Christ from a Muslim background in Bangladesh, but the numbers are
under-reported for the reasons stated above. It is simply not admissible for
someone to be sent back to Bangladesh, knowing that their only chance of safety
is to deny the religious experience they have come to embrace. Freedom of
religion is a fundamental human right.
Those who
wish to start following Christ in Bangladesh
will experience life as exiles
within their own culture;
which was
precisely the situation facing the first century Christians in Asia Minor.
So 1 Peter begins:
‘To the exiles of the dispersion in
Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia, and Bythinia’.
They are
exiles in their own land,
cut off from their own culture.
And the
writer of the letter invites them to understand this experience
in the light of the experience of
the people of God down the centuries.
The
theological point here is that the people of God
are always called into exile.
From
ancient Babylon, to first century Asia Minor,
to modern Bangladesh, to, yes, even
London;
we are called to be the people of
God, exiled within our own world.
And what
this means for us is that we are emphatically not anyone else’s people.
Our allegiance is to Christ and to
Christ alone;
we have no king but
Jesus,
and all other attempts to enslave us
to ideologies of
nationalism, consumerism, or militarism
must be resisted in the
name of Christ.
The great
insight of this opening line from 1 Peter
is that we are all called into
exile,
and that
there will be consequences that we have to face
for our obedience to this call.
However,
having addressed the letter to the ‘exiles’,
this word is then immediately
qualified.
They are
not just exiles, they are ‘the exiles of
the dispersion’,
or ‘the exiles of the diaspora’ to put it slightly differently.
And this,
too, is a word which calls to mind a Jewish religious concept
that the author wants his readers to
appropriate to their own situation.
The Jewish
‘diaspora’ or ‘dispersion’ were those Jews who, in the first century,
lived in places other than the land
of Israel itself.
The lessons
learned, and the faith formed in exile in Babylon
had created a sense of identity for
the Jewish people of God
that sustained them even
when they were distant
from
their temple and their promised land.
It still
does to this day, which is why Judaism is one of the few tribal religions
to have survived the repeated
scattering of its people around the world.
The word
that 1 Peter uses here, ‘diaspora’ or ‘dispersion’
has a sense of sowing about it
– a sense of scattering
seed on the land.
And he is
inviting those
who experience their life as
followers of Christ to be one of exile,
to see
themselves not as just exiles,
but as the seeds of the gospel,
scattered in the world
to take root, and grow,
and flourish,
and bear the fruit of
the Spirit of Christ
in whatever context they
find themselves.
In an echo
of the advice given by the prophet Jeremiah to the Jewish exiles in Babylon,
those in Pontus, Galatia,
Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia
are to, ‘seek the welfare of the
city where [they have been sent] into exile’,
they are to ‘pray to the
LORD on its behalf,
for in its welfare [they]
will find [their] welfare.’ (Jeremiah 29.7).
They are to
become resident aliens, rooted in the world,
but not owned by the world.
There is no
mandate here for isolationist Christianity,
for the kind of community which
shuts itself off from the world
to preserve its
holiness.
Rather,
this is a vision of the church called from the world,
and then sent back to the world, for
the transformation of the world.
The writer
then reiterates this point more strongly in the second verse of the letter,
making absolutely sure that the theological
framework
on which the rest of the
letter will hang is firmly established.
This verse
is one of the great early Trinitarian formulations of the Christian faith,
and its force echoes down to us
today from that early context.
He says,
firstly, that the exiles of the dispersion
are chosen and destined by God the
Father.
The people
of God exist because God has called them into existence.
And we,
like Israel of old, like the Christians of the first century,
are called into being by the call of
God;
called to
be his people, to have no other gods before him,
and to give our allegiance to none
other.
This means
that we belong to a people
who are constituted unlike all other
peoples in the history of humanity.
We are not
gathered around nationality, military might,
territorial belonging, conquest, or
expansion,
and we are
not sustained by walls, weapons, or warfare.
We are
God’s people, called by him from among the nations,
to live as aliens and exiles in the
midst of a hostile world.
We are
defined neither by left nor right,
not by colour of skin nor colours of
flag.
We are
sustained by grace and peace,
called to be a people of grace, and
a community of peace.
We are
called to resist narratives of violent struggle or exclusionist politics.
We are called to be a different and
distinct people,
in the world but not of
it,
to be a people who embody the
biblical politics of peace,
and to dwell
non-violently among the nations
as aliens
and exiles in their midst,
as visible
signs of God’s grace and peace.
But how on
earth are we do this?
Well, says the author, we do this
because we are sanctified by the Spirit.
Our hearts
are purified by the Spirit of Christ at work within us,
forming us from the inside out to be
God’s people.
It is the
Spirit who sustains us through our suffering,
the Spirit who protects our inner
being through the fires of persecution,
the Spirit who reveals to us the
truth of the salvation
that comes to us from
beyond our current experience.
Sometimes
it can seem as if everywhere we turn,
we are being promised or sold dreams
of salvation.
From
political solutions, to bespoke religions, to economic miracles
– we are surrounded by people
promising the earth.
But we are
enabled to resist the lure of such lies
because we are sanctified by the
Spirit of Christ,
who dwells in our hearts and assures
us of our salvation.
And it is in
the strength of the Spirit that we are called to obedience to Christ,
and it is the wind of the Spirit
that scatters us in the world as resident aliens,
as exiles of the
dispersion.
We are
called to an appropriate sense of separation from society,
to live by a different script, to
embody an alternative narrative.
But our
call is not to form holy enclaves,
or to distance ourselves from
society.
Rather, our
call is to obedience to Christ,
who came from heaven to the earth.
So we too are
called to the earth,
we are sown among the nations to
take root and bear fruit,
and to live and work for the
transformation of society,
for the good of the city and culture
to which we have been sent.
And so as
election fever takes root in our media,
as cynicism and disconnectedness
threaten to stifle and choke
the fledgling shoots of
hope,
we are called to be rooted and
grounded in love (Eph 3.17, Col 1.23).
We are
called to be witnesses to the truth
that there is another way.
We are
called to become involved in the processes of our world,
to challenge and change them
into the likeness of the kingdom of
Christ
where our citizenship is
already secure.
So, let’s
not be afraid to talk politics.
And if
party politics isn’t your thing,
then join me in becoming involved in
the transformation of society
through our church’s
membership of London Citizens.
As an
example of the kind of thing I’m talking about,
next week I’m attending, as one of
your ministers,
the shareholder meeting
of Taylor Wimpey,
and I shall
be trying to speak with the CEO
to gain a commitment from them to
build at least 35% of all new houses
as genuinely affordable, to help
tackle the housing crisis of our city.
Or become
involved the situation facing refugees;
or become an advocate for addressing
climate change,
which
is directly affecting so many people around the globe;
or take up the banner of our
commitment to be a Kairos congregation,
and become more involved
in the situation facing Palestinians.
You only
have to look at the issues we wrote on our placards on Palm Sunday
to see the depth of commitment we
have to our hurting and damaged world.
Surely a
church such as ours should be leading the way
in addressing these kind of issues –
and in many ways we are.
But we can
only do so if we all hear the call on our lives…
We are
called to be the people of God,
scattered in the world for the good
of the world,
sanctified
by the Spirit of Christ,
to live lives of radical obedience
to the prince of peace.
This is our
calling, and it is our task.
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