Saturday's evening service (6.30pm) is called the Easter Vigil. It's a new service for many Anglicans and heralds the official beginning of Easter. If you havent been before come and see. In this candlelit service we hear well known stories from the Bible, renew our baptismal vows and the receive Holy Communion.
If we could travel back in time to the fourth century we would find God's Church at the cusp of massive growth in the dying days of the Roman Empire. After a period of horrific persecution the Church was legalised by the new Emperor, Constantine and believers found new freedoms. Many in the church however were unsure as to how to deal with the large numbers of pagans seeking baptism. Was it simply fashion or were they genuine? Some felt that all this populism was diluting the historic faith and went off to the desert looking for a 'purer' exercise of discipleship. The Easter Vigil is a product of that time and is well documented by for example, St Ambrose.
For candidates for baptism this was the highlight of their spiritual journey and the occasion in which they were baptised. It was at this service that they were anointed and heard the Bible stories of salvation. The evidence is that the liturgy went through the night. Men and women were baptised fully into baths in separate rooms. They were then presented dressed in white to the overseer (bishop) who lay hand on them to confirm and seal the work of the Holy Spirit. They then were finally initiated via Holy Communion. Up until then none of them would have seen the Eucharist since it was done in private. In fact much of their journey was carefully planned exposing them bit by bit to the service. In the Orthodox Church they still dismiss the catechumens after the sermon with the words 'The doors the doors'. (There is a story that Metropolitan Anthony, the Russian bishop in London, had a chill in the cold church and intoned; 'The doors the doors - shut the bloody doors!')
Now we find ourselves in Britain in a less religious more secular country and the rites of the Church need to accomodate this. Large sections of the population remain unbaptised and common language of the Faith is becoming less and less familiar. On this Good Friday in Salcombe we had our procession with wooden cross around town. As we moved to Chapel End a young lad shouted out. "Has someone's died?". I replied 'Jesus'. He promptly ran back into the house 'Mum's Jesus is dead!'. I added, shouting over the fence, 'Dont worry on Sunday he rises?' According to researchers in this field we are now talking of three generations of de-churched people. The task for us is really challenging.
The Easter Vigil calls us to use our imagination, to rediscover liturgies which enchant. It also calls us to take seriously the task of journeying with people seeking faith.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Celebrating the Vigil
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diary items,
sermon,
spirituality
Good Friday Blog
Sorry folks its been a while since I blogged.
'I hate Jesus of Nazareth' was one of those lines you dont easily forget. A fellow and rather loud student burst into our common room, made the comment and ran off. This was 1993 and I had set up Franco Zeferreli's TV-movie in the seminary common room during Holy Week. (You know the one with Robert Powell - isnt he now in Holby City rather than the Holy City?) It was obsviously not to everyone's tastes and some staff made grunted comments that I was competing with the programme of liturgies they had set up. I had put this on because I felt that our ceremonies and rites had become a performance. Our endless rehearsals were almost too perfect, too anodine, too precise and I wasnt get much out of it.
Films like 'Jesus of Nazareth' or 'The Passion of the Christ' remind us that if we as Christians are not touched by the story of Good Friday then we are in trouble. It is all too easy for us as clergy and all those involved in preparing liturgies to be get so caught up in the planning and the details that we dont get anything out of it.
I recall as a deacon in my first year of ministry collapsing on the sofa Good Friday afternoon. It was 1998 and I was exhausted from the packed programme our busy parish had to offer. I channel hopped until I got to BBC1 where they were showing Ben Hur. Again, one of my favourite films, it goes on a bit, but it powerfully puts over the story of the Cross. At the point of crucifixion (Charlton Heston was saying something profound) the camera pans in on Jesus in agony, dying, thunder, lightning. Then to my initial annoyance a ticker tape runs underneath, with a news item. C'mon BBC, get this off! Not now! But I read closely. 'Northern Ireland peace talks concluded with agreement'. 'By his wounds we have been healed' says Charlton Heston/Ben hur. (I feel weepy even writing this.) And suddenly, that was it! Good Friday touched me, lanced me, threw me at Golgotha. Wham Bam!
And that, and many other thoughts , lead to believe that this, not Christmas, or Easter, is the greatest day of the year. We talk of being 'moved'. 'Being moved' speaks of a powerful emotional experience. It's a good expression, because it shows that being touched emotionally is not just a feeling but about doing something with that. In Good Friday, God through Jesus, moves us so that we can move. Martin Luther King said that love without power is mere sentiment. The power of Good Friday is what God does for us.
Yet, if we are not move, nothing will move. If we are not touched by the Gospel then how can we expect anyone else to be?
'I hate Jesus of Nazareth' was one of those lines you dont easily forget. A fellow and rather loud student burst into our common room, made the comment and ran off. This was 1993 and I had set up Franco Zeferreli's TV-movie in the seminary common room during Holy Week. (You know the one with Robert Powell - isnt he now in Holby City rather than the Holy City?) It was obsviously not to everyone's tastes and some staff made grunted comments that I was competing with the programme of liturgies they had set up. I had put this on because I felt that our ceremonies and rites had become a performance. Our endless rehearsals were almost too perfect, too anodine, too precise and I wasnt get much out of it.
Films like 'Jesus of Nazareth' or 'The Passion of the Christ' remind us that if we as Christians are not touched by the story of Good Friday then we are in trouble. It is all too easy for us as clergy and all those involved in preparing liturgies to be get so caught up in the planning and the details that we dont get anything out of it.
I recall as a deacon in my first year of ministry collapsing on the sofa Good Friday afternoon. It was 1998 and I was exhausted from the packed programme our busy parish had to offer. I channel hopped until I got to BBC1 where they were showing Ben Hur. Again, one of my favourite films, it goes on a bit, but it powerfully puts over the story of the Cross. At the point of crucifixion (Charlton Heston was saying something profound) the camera pans in on Jesus in agony, dying, thunder, lightning. Then to my initial annoyance a ticker tape runs underneath, with a news item. C'mon BBC, get this off! Not now! But I read closely. 'Northern Ireland peace talks concluded with agreement'. 'By his wounds we have been healed' says Charlton Heston/Ben hur. (I feel weepy even writing this.) And suddenly, that was it! Good Friday touched me, lanced me, threw me at Golgotha. Wham Bam!
And that, and many other thoughts , lead to believe that this, not Christmas, or Easter, is the greatest day of the year. We talk of being 'moved'. 'Being moved' speaks of a powerful emotional experience. It's a good expression, because it shows that being touched emotionally is not just a feeling but about doing something with that. In Good Friday, God through Jesus, moves us so that we can move. Martin Luther King said that love without power is mere sentiment. The power of Good Friday is what God does for us.
Yet, if we are not move, nothing will move. If we are not touched by the Gospel then how can we expect anyone else to be?
Labels:
diary items,
sermon,
spirituality
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Proper 25 Sermon - Mission Statements
Sermon Text For Sunday
It has become commonplace for people or companies to forge a mission statement. Some of these can be rushed or full of waffle and maybe reflect that people were not ready to formulate their thoughts. A bad mission statement uses lots of words to say nothing in particular. It is a tick box exercises. A good mission statement however reflects some of the dynamism, excellence and focus of the stakeholders.
I think it was Jaguar (I maybe wrong here) that had the mission statement printed on the uniforms of all employees. It simply read ‘Kill Ferrari’. No one was in any doubt about what the company was trying to do.
I fear that in these challenging times the churches need to consider what their primary purpose is about. This is because over the centuries parish churches have built up such a large role in the community that we are in danger of losing focus and not remaining true to our primary role. It is the downside of doing a lot of good. This does not necessarily mean we have to create a mission statement. This can be useful from time to time but there is a danger that we create a mission statement and then file it. A mission statement has to be something engraved on the heart of every one involved otherwise it is fairly pointless. I suspect that many of the best mission statements are written when an organisation is on its knees. It is at this critical juncture that minds are sharpened and there is a hunger for change.
For the pious Jew Shema Yisrael is a mission statement par excellence, the greatest commandment. ‘Hear O Israel the Lord your God, the Lord is One. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with your mind.’ (Deuteronomy 6:4)
The practicalities of engraving this mission statement in your heart are given in the verses afterwards in Deuteronomy.
“And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.”
Importantly Jesus adds to this a quote from Leviticus 19:18 ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself’ and says that ‘On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets’.
A few years back a clergy friend of mine gave one of the most inspiring talks I have ever heard on mission at a local clergy conference. It was not a pulpit rant or some quasi-bit of management-speak but a clear mandate for us to change. It was given from a shy Anglo-Catholic priest with a great vision. In that hotel conference room the scales dropped off my eyes and I can still quote chunks of it off the top of my head. Privately I wept afterwards because I realised that for years I had been going down the wrong track. The address was entitled ‘Have We Got the Map Upside Down?’ His observation is that what most traditional churches feel comfortable doing in terms of mission is just making themselves a little bit more user-friendly. If we can tweak this or fiddle with that then the general populace will come back to church in their droves. In Scotland we even bought into an American programme which argued that each parish church’s first step in mission was ask ‘How Can We Make Our Church More User-Friendly?’ We invested years in this.
The question we should have been asking is ‘Why Do We Things We Do?’ or more bluntly ‘Why Are We Here?’ But let us not get disheartened because it seems as most of the apostolic leadership got it wrong with the exception of Peter and Paul. If the apostles had got their way Christianity would have remained a sect for those who like that sort of thing.
Let me give you a sense of where my friend is coming from. The problem with the Scottish Episcopal Church is that it is very small – roughly 0.6% of the population attend. The pond in which it can fish will remain very small if it thinks that all it had to do was make it self more user-friendly. Its liturgical heritage is quite conservative and I think that the likelihood that there is an additional 0.5% of people interested is unlikely.
The mandate from Christ at the end of Matthew’s Gospel is quite clear. ‘Go out and baptise the nations in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.’ Likewise loving God will our all being and doing the same for our neighbour is fairly fundamental. These are not suggestions from the Lord or nice ideas but commands. They relate the essence of our faith.

Shema Yisrael - wear it - live it.
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