* Isaiah 55:1-9 * Psalm 63:1-8 * 1 Corinthians 10:1-13 * Luke 13:1-9

I’m sure like me, there will be times in your life when you have heard about someone, maybe even a member of your family or a close friend, who has been struck down with a sudden serious illness or who have been injured in some kind of accident. In the past few months, I’ve met with a twenty six year old young mother who has received a diagnosis of kidney cancer, I’ve shared tears with another mother whose thirteen year old son has lost the sight in one eye following a freak sporting accident and in the last week I’ve prayed for a friend whose brother was killed in a night club shooting.

More often than not, when faced with these sudden and unexpected happenings in our lives, we ask this question.

What did they do to deserve that?

Jesus knew that questions like this were on people’s minds whenever  they came to tell him sad or alarming news. The Roman Governor, Pilate (yes, the same Pontius Pilate who oversaw the crucifixion of Jesus) had ordered that some Galilean Jews be slaughtered. And what’s more, making Pilate’s appalling action even more offensive is that he did this terrible thing while they were offering their sacrifices in Jerusalem.

It’s Jesus who asks the questions on everyone’s minds: Is it because those Galileans were worse sinners than other Galileans that this happened to them? Did they do something to deserve such an awful death?

And it’s Jesus who gives the answer: No.

Or what about when the tower of Siloam fell and eighteen people were killed, crushed because they were standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, is that because they were sinners?

Jesus says no.

Behind all this is a deeper question.

Is God keeping track in some gold-leafed book about who’s been naughty and who’s been nice and whether to respond with earthly punishments or rewards?

The answer is no.

Does God allow tyrants to kill people or tsunamis to drown people because they’ve done something to deserve it?

No.

You might remember the time when some people ask Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither.” says Jesus, and he cures the man of his blindness.

Jesus flatly denies any correlation between the man’s problem and someone’s sins.

Yet, it’s a persistent question. And it goes with a persistent assumption, that somehow what people get in life is what they deserve – we’re tempted to think that there must be a connection between the sorts of people they are and the bad or good things that come their way in life.

We’ve heard people say, “I wonder what he did to deserve that?” or make pronouncements, “this plague/natural disaster/fill in the blank is God’s punishment for how they have behaved.”

Jesus clearly tells us that this is not how it works.

Sometimes of course, we do suffer as a direct result of something wrong that we have done, some bad decision, some action we’ve neglected to take and we suffer the consequences. Mistreat your body, and you will get hurt. Mistreat a friend, and you may damage your friendship. The negative consequences of our actions can be clear.

But sometimes we’re confused, not when we can see how a mistake or bad action has led to suffering, but when we’ve been good, when we’ve done the right thing, we’ve tried so hard, and still, nevertheless, we suffer.

As Christians, we really shouldn’t be so surprised when this happens. The idea that only good things happen to good people should have been put to rest when Jesus was nailed to the cross.

Christian faith is no magic protection against tragedy. After all, the cross is our central symbol – the cross, where an innocent man died the death of a criminal.

Nonetheless, Christians have long since wondered why bad things happen to people, even good people. In his book The City of God, St. Augustine considered the great suffering that occurred when the barbarians sacked Rome, and he noted that when the barbarians raped and pillaged, Christians suffered just as much as non-Christians. Faith in Christ did not make them immune to pain and tragedy. Augustine wrote,

“Christians differ from Pagans, not in the ills which befall them, but in what they do with the ills that befall them.”

The Christian faith does not give us a way around tragedy. Our faith gives us a way through tragedy.

So, no, we cannot and must not ever look at tragedy and assume that someone did something to deserve it.

“But,” Jesus says, “unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

What kind of a statement is that?

Jesus is not saying that questions are bad or that ‘why’ isn’t a vital human question. Jesus is saying, don’t be distracted by the wrong question. To Jesus, the ‘why’ isn’t important. God made us in love and gave us free will, freedom to choose how to respond, how to act.

In freedom, humans have written symphonies, others have started wars. God made a dynamic world in which natural things change and evolve into beautiful new forms of life, but they also mutate into cancerous cells.

A good question to ask, according to Jesus, isn’t: what did she do to deserve that suffering? The much more important question is: how is your relationship with God? Jesus says that we shouldn’t be distracted by looking at what happened to someone else. We shouldn’t spend our time wondering what someone must have done to deserve what they are going through. Instead, we should look at ourselves – while we still have time.

Jesus refuses to get caught up in the question of whether or not someone else deserves to suffer, and instead asks another question: What in your life needs acknowledging and turning around? What needs to be turned over to God? What needs to be forgiven?

Things will happen. And while the gift of earthly life is still ours, we need to ask ourselves, how is our relationship with God? Do we love our neighbours as ourselves? Are we relieving the suffering of others or just pointing our finger at them and trying to connect the dots between their suffering and the things we consider to be their wrong-doing?

The scandal at the heart of our faith is this – God already loves us;  God doesn’t need a record or tally sheet because we don’t do anything to deserve God’s love. We have no favour to earn, because God already sees us as God’s beloved ones. All we have to do is live and explore the amazing mystery of our acceptance. We can’t lose God’s favour and make bad things happen to us because we don’t earn God’s favour in the first place.

Life is short. Don’t be distracted by the wrong questions. And don’t be disappointed if Jesus asks you to love God more than you love answers. Because Jesus will do that!

* Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18 * Psalm 27 * Philippians 3:17-4:1 * Luke 13:31-35

I wonder if at some time in your life you have every had anyone try to put you off from doing something? Has anyone ever tried to discourage you from continuing on a particular path, or from carrying out your plan or vision for something?

Maybe they warned you that it wouldn’t end well, or perhaps they told you that you were just not capable or good enough?

Or maybe they felt threatened by your presence and abilities and tried to run you down before you got in their way?

I remember, as a teacher in my mid-twenties, signing up to a professional development course for those aspiring to be Head Teachers. One of my colleagues, who I trusted and thought of as a friend and who had encouraged me to apply for the training, went to see my Head Teacher at the time and told her that she thought I didn’t have enough experience to begin the course. This friend of mine had applied for the course a year earlier and had not been accepted. Fortunately for me, my Head Teacher disagreed with her and gave me the reference I needed to get on to the training programme.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but there had in fact been a fox right within my own camp.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus also comes up against a fox.

He’s making his way to Jerusalem, stopping along the way in villages and towns to teach people and to heal the sick and just before the part of the gospel that we have read today, Jesus compared the kingdom of God to entering through a narrow door.

And in that hour, as Jesus calls the people to change and struggle to get through that door, the Pharisees approach.

And this next bit might sound rather strange to us.

The Pharisees come to warn Jesus to flee because Herod is looking to kill him – now doesn’t this seem like odd behaviour for them? After all, the pharisees have already set themselves up as Jesus’ adversaries, constantly questioning his practices and beliefs.

They’re usually found looking to trip him up and reveal to others that he is breaking their religious laws. So why would they come to warn him? If Jesus is posing a threat to their religion, why do they appear to be wanting to help him?

And do you know, there is another little problem with this scene. We don’t actually have any indication elsewhere that Herod even wanted to kill Jesus. The biblical text does tell us that he wants to meet Jesus and see him perform one of his signs, but there is no indication that he wants to kill him.

It seems then that these Pharisees that have approached Jesus are either lying about Herod’s intent, or have  somehow been misinformed.

Perhaps they were hoping their warning would be enough to move Jesus out of the land – that he would be scared off and no longer be a thorn in their sides.

There is also the possibility that these Pharisees didn’t have such a harsh view of Jesus. Perhaps these men didn’t have as much of a problem with him as some of the other Pharisees. Maybe they disagreed with him, but were still sympathetic enough to not wish death upon him.

It’s a puzzling little interaction which leaves lots of questions unanswered, but whatever their intent, they surely weren’t expecting the response which Jesus fired back.

They might have thought they could deter Jesus, discourage him from continuing on, but he casts their warning aside and calls out, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work’”

Herod the fox – Jesus was being rather feisty in his insult.

Foxes were pests. They came into the fields and vineyards and ruined the crops. They’d scavenge through cities that had fallen into ruin. They may have been cunning animals, but they were also destructive nuisances.

A king like Herod would want to be compared to a powerful animal, like a lion that showed strength and prowess. To call him a fox was surely a great insult. But if Herod (or the Pharisees if they’re the ones behind this rumour), think that the threat of death would deter Jesus, then they are all a bunch of foxes, relying on their deceitful and scheming ways to rid their city of this troublemaker.

Their threats of course, wouldn’t stop Jesus. He was going to finish what he came to do and no amount of intimidation or threats would hold him back from continuing on.

Jesus’ harsh and determined response to the Pharisees stresses his confidence in God’s plan and call upon his life.

As the Son of God, he has a mission before him, one which he knows God will carry him through. And along the way to that goal, that completion of his mission upon the cross, there is still work to be done; Jesus still has people to teach and others to heal.

Herod and the Pharisees may think they can bully him in to stopping, but Jesus knows that what he is doing is more important than anything they could throw at him.

Then comes that great prophetic moment when Jesus mourns over Jerusalem for a rejection that is still to come. They haven’t condemned Jesus yet, but they will, and he knows it. They will have a choice to make, to stand by their wicked ways or to come to Jesus.

It’s a city that stands as the centre of worship, the sacred home for Yahweh, and yet again and again they reject the voice of the Lord that comes to them through the prophets of the past – it is a city that kills prophets and it is a city that would do the same with Jesus.

And he understands that future rejection as a present reality as he calls out, condemning and mourning Jerusalem in his prophetic voice.

Jesus doesn’t just rebuke Jerusalem for her rejection of truth, he laments over her wayward ways.

We see that in the description he offers of himself as an animal (or rather a bird).

Herod may be a fox, but Jesus is a hen. He longs to gather the people under his wings as a hen would her chicks, but the people are unwilling to come to him.

The choice of a hen to describe Jesus is a peculiar one and in the face of a fox, it doesn’t seem like a hen would be able to hold up very well.

But let me tell you a true story that I learned when we lived in Yorkshire. Old Eleanor had kept chickens all her life and one day when she was doing the washing up and looking out of the kitchen window, she saw a fox attacking one of her hens in the back garden. Eleanor ran out to the scene, banging a pan with a wooden spoon and scared the fox away. But as she approached the hen that had been attacked, she realised she was too late and it lay lifeless with its wings outstretched. But as Eleanor drew closer to pick it up, she suddenly saw movement in the wings. What had actually happened was that facing a fierce attack, the hen had laid down on top of two little chicks, trying to fend off the fox – and that she did, but of course, the hen herself had paid the ultimate price.

Like the hen protecting her chicks with her body, Jesus too offers up his own body, his life, to protect the world. He shares with the hen in the story a willingness to offer himself, even to the point of death, to care for the ones that have been entrusted to him.

Today’s gospel draws us deeper into Lent, leading us closer to the cross and those final days when Jesus’ mission would reach completion.

And we are reminded by the text of two important things, of two animals we encounter in life, one a fox and the other a hen.

Like Jesus we will face a fox or two in our lives. Whether our fox comes in the form of a person or circumstance or system, we may encounter opposition in life.

It may try to deter us from pushing forward, from continuing on with God’s work in the world. We see this within our own lives and sometimes, regrettably, within the life of the church.

But the foxes, like Herod and the Pharisees, are never in as much control as they think, if we are standing with the hen.

They only have that power and control if we give it to them by succumbing to their sly ways and retreating from the mission before us. It is better to stand beneath the wings of the hen.

Jerusalem had a choice, just as we do, and Christ is waiting to enfold us in his wings and care for us. And while we are beneath those wings, we must grow together in the ways of the Lord; we must come to know the care and commitment, the courage and devotion of the hen that we are to model.

As we are encircled in God’s protective wings of grace and salvation we must come to understand the ways of Christ as we mature, so that when those foxes do appear – sometimes right in the midst of us, we also have the courage to face the challenges before us, to forgive and press onwards as Jesus did.

Together, as a loving christian family, supporting one another on the way, we must be able to continue to love and care for people as Jesus did, sheltering those that come looking for care beneath the wings of our Saviour.

So, this Lent, stay close to Jesus the hen, offering yourself in the same way to others as he did, be part of the new Jerusalem over which there is no lament, as we work together for His kingdom right here, in our own families and in our wider community.

Amen.

Sermon Luke 4.1-13

Four priests were spending a couple of days on retreat preparing for Lent. On the first evening they decided to tell each other their biggest temptations.

The first priest said, “Well, I am so very embarrassed to confess that but my big temptation is racy pictures. Once, instead of the Church Times, I bought a copy of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition.”

“My temptation is worse,” said the second priest. “I’m afraid it’s gambling. One Saturday instead of preparing my sermon, I went to the races to bet on the horses, and I lost all the previous week’s Sunday collection.”

“Mine is worse still,” said the third priest. “I sometimes can’t control the urge to have a drink. Just last week, finding not one bottle left in the rectory, I actually broke into the sacramental wine.”

The fourth priest who was usually very talkative indeed, was suddenly very, very quiet. “Sisters and brothers, I hate to say this,” she said, “but my temptation is worst of all. I love to gossip – and if you will all excuse me, there’s a few phone calls I’d like to make!”

Oscar Wilde famously said “I can resist anything but temptation” . A line I think many of us could probably relate to (at least sometimes)!

The very nature of temptation is that it is so hard to resist – it‟s designed to make you give in.

Temptation is linked with the ides of doing something that we shouldn’t- something forbidden or banned, something dangerously elicit.

Rarely do we think of someone tempting us to do good! Can you imagine – “Go on ! Why don‟t you give away your best coat to that poor, cold homeless person on the street, go on – you know you want to!”

No, the little whispers in our ears are more likely to be encouraging us to think that we can get away with a tiny white lie or with “borrowing something‟ that isn’t ours without asking permission, maybe eating that tiny chocolate bar or drinking just that one glass of sherry that we gave up for Lent.

“It won‟t do any harm” the little voice says.

Well, of course that‟s what the serpent told Eve about eating the forbidden fruit in the garden of Eden and look what that led to!

I’m sure you will have seen the comic book portrayal of a person being tempted – the one with an angel hovering on one side of them and a little red demon on the other side.

The battle ensues with the demon tempting the individual to do something bad and the angel reminding them of the consequences and trying to convince them to do right.

It’s portrayed as a battle between good and evil as are many of the stories in books, films and television dramas – an all too familiar tale.

In biblical thought ‘to tempt’ means to test something or someone to determine or demonstrate their worth or faithfulness. Or it can mean an attempt by Satan to invite a person to sin, like in our comic book example.

The gospel passage we read today was about Jesus being led into the desert by the Holy Spirit in preparation for his ministry. Luke places this event after Jesus’ baptism – the event where he was acknowledged as God’s son and God’s love and acceptance of him was publicly proclaimed ‘You are my son, whom I love, with you I am well pleased’.

Luke also lists Jesus’ lineage here as if to emphasise his credentials to us, the reader.

We are told Jesus fasted for forty days and nights – and that number, the number forty, is a significant number in other parts of the Bible too – remember Noah and the flood when it rained for forty days, what about Moses who was up the mountain for forty days, Nineveh was given forty days to repent and Israel spent forty years in the wilderness being ‘tested’.

It’s at this time, when he is hungry, that the devil comes to tempt Jesus. Bible commentators often see Jesus essentially being challenged about three things in these temptations: his identity, his means of obtaining the kingdom and his use of power. They are all temptations to doubt Gods will and intention for Jesus’ life and ministry.

The first temptation is about his identity and his use of power. He is being asked to prove who he is by using his God-given power and authority to turn the stones into bread – to meet his own physical need, but also to use miracles to prove his identity. It’s as if the devil is saying “Come on, use what you’ve got to get what you want”, but Jesus responds with words taken from scripture – he doesn‟t enter into an argument or discussion : declaring “It is written: Man does not live on bread alone’. In Matthew these words are added “but on every word that comes from the mouth of God”.

Jesus’ need to eat is not a sin, but how he obtains what he needs is important.

Jesus recognises that God will provide and he needs to trust him to provide what is necessary and Jesus understands that he doesn’t need to prove who he is by miracle working – that is the wrong way to establish his identity. Jesus is willing to wait – to do his father’s will is his bread.

In the second temptation Jesus is taken to the mountain top –traditionally, a place of prayer and of God‟s presence.

A shortcut is offered to him – that he can have all the kingdoms of this world if he worships Satan. Jesus sought to establish a kingdom –God’s kingdom on this earth.

Many of his parables illustrated what this kingdom was like. Jesus wasn’t seeking to be king of the kind of kingdom he was being offered by Satan.

Jesus answered again with a sentence from Deuteronomy. It is written ‘worship the Lord your God and serve him only’.

The same sentiment echoed in the Lord’s Prayer that Jesus taught his disciples – Our father who art in heaven, your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven.’

What Jesus taught and modelled to his disciples was servant leadership – that the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve and offer his life as a ransom for many. Obedience to his Father was his ministry.

In the third temptation Jesus is led to the highest point of the temple in Jerusalem – the place where his earthly ministry would end. The devil questions his identity again “If you are the son of God…” and using scripture, tempts Jesus to put God’s word to the test by throwing himself from the rooftop.

What a sensational event it would have been – a dramatic sky jump without a parachute and God sending his angels to the rescue. Another shortcut being offered – a sign to prove he is the Messiah and God‟sGod’s son– – what a fantastic way that would be to launch his ministry.

But Jesus responds again with the word of God “Do not put the lord your God to the test”.

Not only is Jesus not prepared to ‘prove himself’ in the wrong way, he is not going to ask God, his father, to prove himself either.

On the cross, once again Jesus is challenged by bystanders with the same temptation – “If he is the son of God, let him ask God to come and rescue him – to prove he is who he says he is”.

He resists right to the end continuing to obey and trust God – not demanding to be rescued from the cross.

Luke ends the passage by telling us that when the devil had finished all this tempting, he left him until an opportune time.

This suggests that he will be back. That Jesus will continue to face temptation to take the easy way, the shortcut, to doubt who he is and use his power to prove his identity.

Satan is tempting him from taking the way of the cross, he is tempting him to abandon his true mission and ministry – but Jesus resists – there is no shortcut to salvation. He will be challenged time and time again, particularly by the Pharisees, about his identity, his teaching, his authority and his use of power.

He will also face the cross and that will require all these temptations to have been overcome before the ultimate testing of all – he will have to trust he is doing his fathers will, even when he no longer feels his father’s presence.

Why have you forsaken me? he cries out on the cross, before commending his spirit to his Father in trust at the last breath. He was tempted but he never gave in, he never sinned, he proved his faithfulness and was worthy to win our salvation for us.

We are eternally grateful he did it God’s way, not his way, not the way Satan was tempting him to go.

It’s no accident that the gospel reading for today is the temptation of Christ – we wouldn‟t be looking forward to Easter today, there would be no Lent if Jesus had yielded to those temptations.

We are in the days of Lent – forty days – they are a time of preparation for us – to recount all the suffering, but also to have one eye on the glory of the resurrection.

We are invited to ‘walk with Jesus’ through this time – as disciples we too are called to the way of the cross.

There are no shortcuts for us –  no easy life just because we are Christians. We are loved, we are children of God but our trust in God – who he is and who we are will be tested.

In difficult times – we may be tempted to do things our way – to doubt our identity as children of God, to put God to the test, to find another God to worship who doesn’t make demands of us.

But there is always an opportunity to choose the right pathway – to trust our heavenly Father. There is no shortcut to the victory and glory of Easter without passing through the pain and sorrow of Lent.

Lent gives us time to discover our identity afresh as children of God, to re-establish our trust in Him for our needs to be met, to reaffirm our trust in Him for our salvation. Committing ourselves anew to obedience and living the kingdom life are ways we can respond to the call to be his disciples.

I pray you have a blessed and holy Lent and that you are drawn closer to Him who is our saviour and our redeemer – Amen.

The liturgy for Ash Wednesday offers us an opportunity to stop, to reflect on who we are and to whom we belong – to adopt an attitude of humility, hit the reset button, and begin again.

We are invited to stand still in the whirlwind of life and the multiple activities that surround us on all sides and remember:

God hates nothing God has made; God forgives the sins of all who are penitent; our God is the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness.

And as if all this is not enough, the reminder that we “are dust, and to dust we shall return” ought to put our lives in Christ into a proper perspective of humility.

Of course, this is made visible and tangible with the imposition of ashes, traditionally made from the Palm Sunday crosses from the previous year. This act retraces the Baptismal Cross on our foreheads as a reminder of the promises we make each time we renew our Baptismal vows:

• to participate in the full life of the Body of Christ, his Church
• to say we are sorry whenever we have violated our relationships with God and others, all others
• that everything we do and say will proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ
• that we will seek and serve Christ in all persons
• that we will strive for justice and peace for all people, and respect the dignity of every human being

The Church has long recognised how challenging it is to keep these core promises that constitute walking in the Way of Christ. This is why we set aside these forty days each year for self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; to read and meditate on God’s holy Word.

The ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us not only of our mortality and need for regular repentance, but also that it is only by God’s gracious gift that we are given everlasting life through Jesus Christ.

Although we are to remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return, we ought never to forget that we are Holy Dust, created and inspired by the very breath and Spirit of God.

Just as Moses was reminded by the burning bush that he was standing on Holy Ground, so the ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us that everywhere we stand, everywhere we walk, every speck of dust is Holy Ground – and that we are made Holy from the moment of our very first breath. Receiving these ashes is meant to remind us of these humbling and defining truths.

Next to the Cross itself, there is no more tender and revealing moment in God’s Holy Word than that proclaimed on Ash Wednesday by the prophet Joel, who in days of great darkness and gloom calls the people of God to a solemn assembly to pray for deliverance. Yet, amid this call to return to the Lord with all our hearts, the prophet reminds us of God’s very essence, and then imagines just how much the Lord our God loves us:

“Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
and relents from punishing.
Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
for the Lord, your God?”

When we are enveloped with such darkness and gloom that we are unable to make the appointed sacrifices to God, unable to turn our hearts and minds back to God on our own, the prophet imagines that the Lord God himself will make the appointed sacrifices himself, leaving a grain offering and a drink offering on our behalf – which offerings constitute the essence of our Holy Communion. We are those people who, like the prophet, can imagine that God enters our lives and leaves an offering and blessing for us every Sunday – because our God is the God who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”

This realisation of God’s love and care for us brings us to our knees and a Litany of Repentance in which we rehearse all the possible ways in which we stray from the way of the Lord God, the Way of Christ. It is after this remarkable and thorough confession that the reset button is pressed, and we are forgiven by Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, and that at the last we may come to his eternal joy.

Ash Wednesday is a day to stop, reflect on who we are and to whom we belong, to adopt an attitude of humility, and hit the reset button of our life in Christ. A day to remember that we are dust, but that we are Holy Dust, animated by God’s own breath. For it is God’s own Spirit that enlivens us and sustains us, day in and day out. A day to remember that God loves us so much as to make sacrifices for us when we are unable to do so ourselves. A day to allow God in Christ to forgive us so that we might live the rest of our lives reflecting the very love that God has for us and for all of creation. A day that we may remind ourselves with great humility to love God, love all others, and love all of creation itself. For that is what it means to be the Holy Dust of God!

Amen.

* Exodus 34:29-35 * Psalm 99 * 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 * Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)

In the coming week, churches around the world will undergo a transformation of sorts, as the liturgical calendar moves us from the season after Epiphany into the season of Lent. Our praise-filled shouts of “Alleluia!” will give way to Lent’s solemn petition, “Lord have mercy.”

Many churches will put away their finest brass and festive hangings in favour of simpler and more contemplative objects. And the lectionary will lead us down from the mountaintop where the transfigured Christ is revealed in glory, through the valley of the shadow of death, and ultimately to Jerusalem where the cross and tomb await.

Lent can weigh very heavily on some of us as it urges us to recall the suffering and death of our Lord. So, in many ways, we arrive at this final Sunday before Lent with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, a combination of joy and dread. It is no accident that every year on this Sunday, we hear again the story of Christ’s transfiguration on the mountaintop because, at the heart of this story, we find these all-too-familiar feelings: anticipation diluted by anxiety and joy thinned by dread.

Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus summons Peter, James, and John to the mountain top. Without understanding the context, we might be tempted to believe that the chosen disciples happily agreed and gleefully followed Jesus without any reservation. But, we must recall that just a few verses earlier in chapter 9, Jesus tells the disciples that he must undergo great suffering, be rejected, killed, and then rise from the dead.

“If any want to become my followers,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.”

As Peter, James, and John journey with Jesus to the mountain top, they are forced to come to grips with the horrifying truth that Jesus, their beloved friend and leader, must suffer and die!

When they reach the top of the mountain, the Gospel tells us that Jesus was transfigured before them and Moses and Elijah appeared. As the disciples looked at their Lord, they realised that they were in the very presence of God. But even in this incredible moment of divine transfiguration, Peter could not forget what Jesus had told them before they came to the mountain.

“Master, it is good for us to be here,” Peter says, “Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

At some level, most of us can’t help but sympathise with Peter. Who among us would knowingly submit our self or our loved ones to pain and suffering? Peter’s efforts to protect Jesus are undoubtedly acts of love and devotion – but they are also acts resulting from Peter and the disciples’ need for safety and security. They had seen a glimpse of God’s glory in the face of Jesus, and they wanted desperately to hold onto it, to protect it.

But the moment that Peter gets into cahoots with James and John to try and hold onto and protect Jesus, is the moment that a voice from above breaks in, proclaiming: “This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!”

And notice what happens next: As the disciples came down from the mountain top, they didn’t rush into the closest town and tell the first person they saw about what they had just witnessed. They didn’t wait until Jesus wasn’t looking to talk about it. And they didn’t take to Social Media with the news. Luke’s Gospel tells us that they “told no one any of the things they had seen.”

Although most biblical scholars interpret the disciples’ silence as a mark of fear about what they had seen and heard – which is certainly a plausible explanation – so perhaps there’s more than one dimension here. What if the disciples’ silence allowed them to be obedient to God’s command?

The disciples had heard God say, “This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!” So instead of running and telling the world what they had seen on the mountain, what if they chose instead to obey; to be silent so that they could listen?

In a world bustling with noise and chaos, where words and rhetoric are shouted with impunity, stirring up fear and anxiety, perhaps this is the word from the Lord that we need to hear.

Amidst all of the joys and heartbreaks of the world; in the face of all of the delight and despair that surrounds us; and despite all of the things we know and can never know, God beckons us, ever so gently: Listen.

Imagine for a moment, what the world might look like if we listened – not in preparation to respond, but in order to understand.

What might our politics look like if we listened more and argued less? What might our schools look like if we taught our children how to listen as intently and deliberately as we taught them how to speak and to write? And what might our churches look like if we listened intently for the voice of God from those who differ from us?

In his book, Bread for the Journey, the Catholic priest and theologian Henri J.M. Nouwen writes:

“To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept… The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.”

As our Lenten journey approaches, and the chaos of the world presses in with voices of despair clanging in our ears, may we remember how to listen. For it is in listening that we truly hear one another.

And it is in listening that we hear the voice of God.

Amen.

* Genesis 45:3-11, 15 * Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40 * 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50 * Luke 6:27-38

Old Mrs Cameron was celebrating her one hundredth birthday.

She’d received her telegram from the King. She’d been made a fuss of by her grandchildren and great grandchildren and now she was being interviewed by a reporter from the Raggy.

“One hundred years old” the young reporter exclaimed. “You must have done so much in all those years! Tell me what are you most proud of?”

After a moment or two, Mrs Cameron responded, “Well, I don’t think I have a single enemy in all the world”.

“What a beautiful thought! How inspirational!” said the reporter.

“That’s right, not one enemy in all the world” the old girl said,

“I’ve outlived every last one of them!”

For many people, even those of us who identify ourselves as Christians, this morning’s gospel passage may be one of the most difficult in all of our holy scriptures.

Love your enemies.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes that expression seems to me to describe an ideal that feels totally unrealistic and unattainable.

In contrast to the humourous little story I told you about old Mrs Cameron (which of course was entirely fictional – but possibly reflects the real attitude of many), I want to tell you a true story.

It’s the story of Maria Goretti.

Maria was an Italian peasant girl who is remembered both for her extreme devotion and for her tragic death at a young age.

Born in 1890 in Corinaldo, Italy, Maria was the youngest of the five children in her family. Her childhood was marked by poverty and hardship, and her parents struggled to make ends meet. But Maria was known for her deep devotion to her faith and for her love of prayer. Despite the difficulties of her life, she was said to be a joyful and generous child, always willing to help others.

In 1902, at the age of 11, Maria was attacked and stabbed by a 19 year old neighbour, Alessandro Serenelli. Despite her severe injuries, Maria forgave her attacker and asked that he be forgiven before she sadly died of her injuries the following day.

Maria’s death and her forgiveness of her attacker made a profound impact on those around her and quickly spread throughout the local community. Serenelli, her attacker, was arrested, tried and convicted of her murder, and served 30 years in prison. He later converted to Christianity and credited Maria’s forgiveness and her intercession for his redemption.

Maria’s mother, Assunta, also forgave Serenelli and testified on his behalf at his trial.

A true story of forgiveness.

We live today in a world of great turmoil – of terrorism, a world full of violence and murder, of vicious vendettas and wars that are often stirred up in the tabloid press and online media. Is Jesus really saying to us that acts like these are not to be avenged?

In order to understand what Jesus is really saying to us, we have to put aside our prejudices and assumptions and really listen to his words.

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who treat you badly.”

In the Old Testament hatred and vengeance towards evildoers was presumed to be the right attitude to have. But Jesus, as he so often does, turns this on its head and calls for an attitude of love towards the enemy and the persecutor.

Often, the first big hurdle for us is the word “love”. It is of course a very emotional word, implying both affection and intimacy. For us to “love” is often to “be in love with”, to “be attracted to”.

But Jesus is not telling us to be in love with our enemies. He is not even telling us to like them.

Rather he is telling us to express the kind of love that God has for us. It is a one-sided love in the sense that a return is not expected. God reaches out in infinite love to every single person without exception.

Our problem is that we can sometimes focus too much on ourselves and our own immediate needs and so overlook the needs of others.

To love as God loves is to focus more on others.

To begin to ask “Why do they act in this way? What is hurting inside them that drives them to such behaviour?” Already we are just by thinking in this way, beginning to care for our enemy and beginning to love him or her.

And is this not a much better solution to the problem? To bring peace back into that person’s life and initiate a healing process in them and between them and me.

Jesus is not at all asking us to do something “unnatural”. We do not naturally want to hate or be hated. We want to love and to be loved.

We see many parts of the world where – for years – there has been a process of hatred and retaliation in a never-ending spiral of vengeance and loss of life.

The only way to break this cycle is to follow Jesus’ advice. It is not a lose-lose or lose-win situation; it is a win-win situation where everyone benefits.

Perhaps these words of the late Mother Teresa are appropriate here:

“Love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise, there is no love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me.”

To put Jesus’ teaching into effect is not a matter of strengthening our will to do something very difficult but to change our conventional thinking at the deepest level, to see things his way. Once we do that, it becomes much easier.

And, through us, the compassion of God can then be experienced by all people.

To end today, let me tell you about Myriam.

In December 2014, a children’s television crew visited Iraqi Kurdistan, where they planned to tell the stories of child refugees who had fled from ISIS. But in a camp in Erbil, something even more profound took place. Presenter Essam Nagy met a little girl who would change his life and inspire millions around the world.

Nine-year-old Myriam was from Qaraqosh, the largest Christian town in the Nineveh plains. She loved watching this particular children’s programme and was delighted to talk to the presenter on camera.

Despite her suffering, Myriam said she felt grateful to God for protecting her family and providing for them. Then, the presenter asked her how she felt about the ISIS fighters who had seized her hometown – and Myriam spoke the words that would resonate with millions.

“I will only ask God to forgive them,” she said. Did Myriam forgive them herself? Yes, she replied – without missing a beat.

Myriam’s words were powerful because they show the heart of the Christian faith. Some of Jesus’ last words on earth were, ‘Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they are doing.’ Myriam’s testimony shows the same faith.

I’m going to finish with the words with which Myriam finished her interview –

“God is always protecting you, and you can count on Him,” she says. Then, with a light in her eyes, she speaks about Jesus. “He is my friend, my brother … my everything.”

Amen

* Jeremiah 17:5-10 * Psalm 1 * 1 Corinthians 15:12-20 * Luke 6:17-26

Over the next couple of weeks, the season of Epiphany draws to a close. If there is a single central theme or image to Epiphany, it is ‘light’.

Epiphany begins with the light of the star leading the Wise Men to Bethlehem and many of our readings and collects in this season are threaded with the image of light.

Luke’s telling of the beatitudes, which we just heard, fits right in with this because the purpose of the beatitudes is to shed some new light on an old subject. But in order to truly understand what’s going on, we need to know what that old subject is. Without that, it is easy to misunderstand these powerful sayings.

For example, it is all too easy to imagine that the beatitudes are about us; that they are commands for how we should live, and what we should do. So, we might imagine that Jesus is telling us, or at least telling some of us, that we should ‘go out there and become poor’, or that we should ‘learn how to weep more’, or ‘become more persecuted’.

If this really is what Jesus is up to, then I think he is pretty much wasting his time. After all, advice like that, whether given by Jesus or by anybody else, usually does nothing more than make us feel frustrated and guilty. We might think that it might be sweet and humble to be a bit more ‘weepy for Jesus’; but it is pretty unlikely that most of us would set out to do it. Bedsides, does being poor, or weeping, or being persecuted really count if you do it on purpose in order to get blessed? That somehow doesn’t seem right.

The harder you try to make these odd sayings into ‘marching orders’, the less sense they make. Besides which, nowhere in the beatitudes is there a command or directive to us or to anybody. Nowhere does Jesus use the imperative, nowhere does he give any orders or requirements. The entire section is in the indicative. Jesus is simply describing reality, he is not telling the disciples, or us, or anybody else, to do anything.

And that’s because The Beatitudes are not really about us; they are not a set of instructions on how we should live, or what we should do.

But if they are not about us, what are they about? If they don’t shine any light on how we are supposed to behave, then what are they good for?

Some people think that their meaning has been for the world. That is, the beatitudes have been presented as ways to help people live well in the word; or at least as things to do that will make the world a better place.

It has been suggested that if we would only become spiritually poor or hungry, or persecuted, that this will bring out the best in others and that they will be the better because of it. So, sooner or later, people will realise how nice and valuable we are and give us what we want. Or, by and by the whole world will end up being a much better place for all involved; and everyone will somehow come out on top in the long run. So the beatitudes become a handy tool, a cosmic way to win friends, influence people, and clean up our communities.

The problem with this, of course, is that it is just plain silly. You can only believe that the world respects and responds kindly to the sort of behaviour found in the beatitudes if you know absolutely nothing about the world.

In reality, things just don’t work like that. If you turn the other cheek, you will probably end up with two sore cheeks. And being poor now, spiritually or especiall, physically, will probably ensure that you won’t get very far in the real world of business, politics, or industry. That’s just the way it is, and that’s the way it always has been, and Jesus was no fool. He knew that. In the Beatitudes Jesus was not trying to shine any light on how the world works.

If there is a point here about the world, it is really that, as far as the world is concerned, the beatitudes don’t make any sense at all. There is nothing rational about living the beatitudes with the hope that it will result in a more successful or prosperous life.

Yet still, the beatitudes shine light, but they really don’t shine any light about the way the world works. They are not about the world, just like they are not about telling us how to act.

The beatitudes are about God, they are about who God is, and who God blesses, and what the kingdom of God is like. They tell us what matters to God, they tell us who is especially important to God, and they tell us what God pays attention to.

Now, Jesus gives us this surprising information about God hoping, no doubt, that such knowledge may have a valuable effect on us. But that is up to us.

In the beatitudes, and the entire Sermon on the Mount, Jesus offers us his picture of God’s values and God’s priorities; and he offers them as an alternative to the vision of life we usually carry around with us.

We can only act on what we can see; and Jesus is giving us the chance to see further, and clearer, and deeper than ever before. The idea is that if we can see, really see, who God considers blessed, or happy, then we will at least know the road to blessedness, and perhaps be able to use that knowledge.

The beatitudes are a glimpse into the heart and mind of God. Again, they don’t tell us what our world is like. We already know that so well that we assume that anything of value will work really well in and with this world. Jesus is trying to shake us loose from that assumption, and give us a different vision of life, one that has its foundations, not in the world, but in the very nature of God.

Jesus tells us that the world’s insignificant players, the losers, are blessed by the Father, and he tells us this so we can know a little better who the Father is. He tells us this to give us a bit more light so we can see a little better.

Now, of course what we do with that is up to us. Remember, we are not getting a whole list of moral laws here. We are being offered a new vision of our world and our lives. The point is not that we must obey a rule that says ‘thou shalt be poor and persecuted’. The point is that, by this light, we can look at the mind of God and discover all sort of new possibilities.

So, we have some new light on God. And a question. The question is: if God is really like this; if God has the preferences and the priorities of the beatitudes, then what could that mean?

How could our lives be different, how could you be different?

That’s the issue, and that is the question Jesus leaves us with. It’s a good question, and worth considering in your life.

* Isaiah 6:1-8, (9-13) * Psalm 138 * 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 * Luke 5:1-11

This week our sermon begins with a ‘Fishy Quiz’

Can you guess these five fish from their descriptions:

1. This fish will make you laugh.
2. This fish will help if your piano doesn’t sound quite right.
3. This fish is perfect for people who re-enact 15^th century battles.
4. This fish is for you if you like to glide across frozen ponds in the winter.
5. This fish is the one that would help your parrot take a rest.

(If you are reading online, please see the end of this sermon for the answers)!

Today’s gospel is a story about fishing, but it is not about fish! It’s a story where Peter and others come to the lake wanting to catch fish, but actually, deep down, there is something else they really desire – a desire beyond their immediate desire.

I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you might be thinking to yourself, “What in the world is Simon talking about?” That’s a good and legitimate question, but stay with me because I am asking that today we “put out into the deep water” where we can neither see nor touch the bottom, where we can’t know what might be down there or what might be coming to us from the deep. Peter and the others in our story surely had no idea what would happen when they let down their nets, and sometimes, neither do we!

On the surface it would be easy to hear today’s story as one in which Jesus fulfils the desires of Peter and the others; the desire to catch fish, the desire to be successful, the desire to make a living. But I’m not sure that that is all that is going on here. I think there is more to this than fish, success and making a living.

Here’s why I say that – what did they do with the fish, their success and the money they would have made at the market once they got back to shore? Well, we are told – they left everything and followed Jesus. They walked away. Those things were not the end of the story but the beginning of the story. Their initial desires took them to the lake, but it was a “desire beyond their immediate desire” that called them beyond the lake.

Most of us will know what that’s like because I think most of us will have experienced that too. I wonder if you have had times in your life when you said, “If only I could …” and then fill in the blank with whatever it is you thought would fulfil you; “go here, do this, get that, find the right woman or man, have a child or grandchild, get that job or promotion, buy a new house, be given a particular opportunity.” And then one day you went, you did, you got and maybe it turned out exactly like you wanted or not at all like you expected, but either way you were still left with a yearning – in time the feeling that there was something more returned and you felt a desire for something else calling you onwards.

That doesn’t mean those things we desired were bad or that we were wrong. It just means that even within those things there is a “desire beyond desire.”

Now you and I know that not every desire is fulfilled, we don’t always get what we expect and not every twist or turn in our lives leaves us feeling happy. That’s just not how life works. We’ve all experienced that side of life. We’ve seen relationships break down or we’ve experienced a sudden change in our financial security. We’ve had loved ones pass away well ‘before their time’ or we feel we’ve become lost and ignored.

We get it when Peter says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” But it’s that “desire beyond desire” that keeps us going, that will not allow us to say, “This is it. It’s over. Let’s just wash the nets and go home.”

It was the “desire beyond desire” that let Peter answer Jesus, “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” Jesus knew Peter had a deeper desire. Jesus did not magically fill Peter’s nets. He touched Peter’s deeper desire and if we open our hearts to him, that’s what he does for us. We all have that same deeper desire within us.

We want to connect with and be known by something beyond what we can acquire, what we can gain or accomplish for ourselves. We want meaning and fullness in our lives. We want our lives to matter and count for something. We want to feel alive. We want to be whole and complete. We want to experience and live in the good, the true and the beautiful – we want life in all its abundancy. Isn’t that how you want to live and what you want for yourself and those you love? That’s our “desire beyond desire.” And Jesus is the one calling us, guiding us and walking with us.

And what if those times and places in which we feel stuck, frustrated, empty, restless, disappointed, as if we’ve missed the boat, are the deep waters into which we are asked to let down our nets? Jesus did not let Peter and the others run away from their exhaustion, their disappointment and their empty nets. He sent them back to the deep water to let down their nets and they “were amazed at the catch of fish,” “so many fish that their nets were beginning to break”.

Are you exhausted and frustrated with your life?

Do you feel unfulfilled and restless?

Do you feel stuck and like you’ve missed the boat?

Maybe this is the moment when you are being asked to let down your nets.

Instead of washing them up and going home, open your eyes, your ears and your heart to the deep waters of life. Be attentive to what lies below the surface. Make yourself open and available to the “desire beyond desire.” It is always unfolding before us and it is never just one thing. It comes to us in a thousand different ways. It changes throughout the seasons and circumstances of our lives.

That “desire beyond desire” is why we still cast our nets even after a night of having caught nothing. It’s why we struggle to do the right thing and to live with integrity. It’s why we forgive and make amends. It’s why we speak for justice and the dignity of every human being. It’s why we open our hearts and risk loving. It’s why we get up each morning and “put out into the deep water.”

Every day something new is coming to us. And so each of us had better be ready – that’s not a threat, that’s about the promise of new life, the gift contained in our “desire beyond desire.” Don’t miss it. Stay awake and alert, in expectation and hope. Put out into deep water and let down your nets!

May God bless you and all those you hold dear in this coming week.

Amen

Fr Simon

Quiz

1. Clown Fish
2. Tuna
3. Pike
4. Skate
5. Perch

Malachai 3.1-4;            Psalm 84;         Hebrews 2.14-18;       Luke 2.22-40

The thing about growing older is that it slowly creeps up on you, and it’s only when you find yourself doing some strange things that you realise it’s happening.

For instance, you know you’re getting older when it takes you twenty minutes to find your car in the supermarket car park.

You know you’re getting older when it takes at least two tries to get up from the sofa.

You know you’re getting older when your idea of a night out is sitting just outside the back door looking up at the stars – when ‘happy hour’ is a nap – when you get two invitations to go out on the same night, and you pick the one that gets you home the earliest.

You know you’re growing older when you look for your glasses for half an hour, and then find that they were on your head all the time – when you and your teeth no longer sleep together.

You know you’re growing older when your memory is shorter and your complaining is longer.

Growing old is something that is coming to all of us. But I wonder just how old can one be?

Modern records give us the names of the five people who’ve lived longest:

Violet Brown of Jamaica lived for 117 years and 189 days.

Marie-Louise Meilleur (Canada) – 117 years and 230 days.

Nabi Tajima from Japan lived for just 30 days longer – 117 years and 260 days.

The USA gave us the second longest lived – Sarah Knauss who’s life spanned 119 years and 97 days.

And the person who had the longest life on record was from France – Jeanne Calment – she lived 122 years and 164 days.

If you look these people up, you’ll read about their long and fulfilling lives – and gentlemen, you’ll also realise that they were all women!

In our gospel today we meet an old man – Simeon – as he fulfils his destiny after decades of waiting in the temple.

Simeon took [the child Jesus] in his arms and praised God, saying, ‘Lord, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation’ (Luke 2:28-30).

These words stand at the centre of our gospel reading. They are beautiful words by which Simeon tells the story of his life and by doing so, prompts us to think about our stories – our lives.

After all, what good is it to us if we read about how Simeon receives the child Jesus into his arms, but we do not do the same?

What good is it to us if Simeon’s eyes see salvation and our eyes do not?

What good is it to us if Simeon is free to go in peace if we are not?

It’s simply not enough to come here this morning to hear about Simeon receiving the child, Simeon’s eyes seeing salvation, and Simeon being set free to go in peace. If simply listening is all we do, then we have bound this story – the good news that we have to proclaim – to a time long ago and a place far away, and it doesn’t have much to do with our lives. We must let the truth of this story transcend its history.

While there is a historical truth to this story, there is also a cosmic truth, a truth that is not limited by time and place. This story is an archetypal experience that is happening in all times and all places for all people. The truth of this story is happening here and now for you and me. It is as much our story as it is Simeon’s.

If we want to understand and claim this story as our own and not just Simeon’s, then strangely enough we need to know a bit more about Simeon. So, I want to tell you what our sacred tradition says about Simeon. Tradition says Simeon was one of the seventy translators of the Hebrew scriptures into Greek, what we call the Septuagint – meaning translated by the seventy.

That translation is supposed to have begun around the third century before Christ and was completed in the year 132 before Christ. Those of you who are good at maths will realise that that means that by the time he met the infant Jesus, Simeon was a really, really old man – much older than any of the women we heard about from modern records. One strand of the tradition says Simeon was 270 years old when Jesus was presented in the temple. Another strand of the tradition says Simeon died at the age of 360.

But I don’t want us to get too hung up on and distracted by Simeon’s age; whether he really was that old, and how someone could live to that age – is not the point. I think better questions for us to ponder are, What does it mean for us that Simeon was that old? What is the tradition trying to tell us? Well, you have to know another part of the story.

Holy tradition says that, when translating the Hebrew scriptures, Simeon came to that verse in Isaiah chapter 7 that says, “Behold, a virgin shall conceive and bear a son”. This made no sense to Simeon and he was going to substitute the phrase “a young woman” in place of “a virgin,” when an angel stopped him and declared the verse to be true, and promised that before he died Simeon would see the child of this virgin.

Think about what this means. Simeon has been promised that he will see the Messiah, the Christ, the one whose name means salvation, and that promise was made nearly two hundred years before it was fulfilled. Simeon must have lived those days, those years, decades and centuries with hope, trust, expectation, and anticipation. Every day for weeks, months, years, decades, centuries – Simeon is left waiting and wondering. “Is this the day? Is this the day I will see salvation or is this the day I will give up hope? Is this the day I will experience the fulfilment of the promise or is this the day I despair of it ever being fulfilled?”

Simeon’s life was one of expectation, anticipation, and waiting. And who among us has not had their life characterised by expectation, anticipation, and waiting? We’ve all stood in that place waiting for and needing something to happen, living in expectation and hope, anticipating the future, and wondering if today was the day.

We all know what it’s like to wait – waiting for life to change, for grief to go away, for a prayer to be answered, for joy to return, for forgiveness and reconciliation, for clarity about a decision, for meaning and purpose, for healing and new life. We wait and hope for all sorts of things.

We have all sorts of hopes and expectations for what God is doing in our lives and in our world. I think that each time we come here to church we must do so with some sense of hope, some need, some expectation. We come here to this place trusting and anticipating the promise that God is present and working in our lives, even if we can’t see or clearly understand how that might be. So, we show up and we wait for the miracle.

That’s what Simeon did.

So, what’s the miracle for Simeon? What’s the miracle for us? I don’t think it is that Simeon lived to such a great age. And it’s not that Simeon held the baby Jesus. And it’s not that Simeon’s eyes saw salvation or that Simeon had been set free to go in peace. Those things are happening all the time.

Here’s what I think the miracle is. Simeon continued to show up. He continued to be vigilant and attentive. He continued to trust the promise. He continued to wait with hope and expectation. He never despaired. He never walked away from the promise. The miracle for Simeon and for us is in the showing up.

Sometimes showing up is the most difficult work we do, and it takes all we have just to show up. But it’s always the question before us. Will we continue to show up? Will we be awake and vigilant? Will we live with hope and trust? Showing up is the means through which God fulfils the promise to us and to Simeon.

Simeon thought he was waiting for the child to show up, but what if it was really Jesus waiting for Simeon to show up? Simeon thought he was presenting the child to God, but what if it was really the child presenting the old man to God? Every day that Simeon showed up, the infant Jesus was seeing and upholding Simeon.

And what Simeon experienced can be ours too if we simply show up. And by that I don’t just mean showing up to church each Sunday – thought that is important. I also mean acknowledging God’s sovereignty over our everyday lives, allowing him to speak into the situations we find difficult and inviting him into the joy and celebrations we experience. The presentation of Jesus doesn’t happen in the Jerusalem temple, but in the temple of our lives, every moment of every day, day after day, month after month, year after year, decade after decade. It happens in the midst of waiting. It happens every time we show up, face up, to the reality of our lives.

So, my friends do show up, do invite him in – and claim what is already yours – open your eyes to see His salvation.

Amen

* Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10 * Psalm 19 * 1 Corinthians 12:12-31a * Luke 4:14-21

Our scripture passage for this third Sunday after Epiphany comes from the gospel of Luke and the evangelist places the story immediately after Christ’s baptism – right at the beginning of Jesus’ ministry.

Now Jesus has already been teaching and performing miracles in other towns nearby and his reputation has spread as he returns to his home town of Nazareth.

Our gospel starts out as one of those “local boy makes good” kind of stories. You know what I mean –

Promising young man heads off to university and comes back a multi-millionaire because he invented something, or, that quiet girl with the dimples and long hair who played second violin in your school string quartet becomes conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra – it sounds like it’s going to be that sort of thing.

Imagine it, the neighbours and relatives who knew Jesus as a boy are eager to see him now – a grown man who has achieved fame for doing remarkable things, especially in nearby Capernaum. So, on the Sabbath, everyone flocks to the synagogue to hear this young preacher and to see if maybe he might perform one of those healing miracles that they’ve been hearing about.

You can just see Jesus approaching the synagogue and the minute he enters the door the senior rabbi asks if he would be willing to read from a book of the Prophets and perhaps share some insight into those words with the people.

Of course, he says. And they bring him a large scroll, which he carefully places on the reading desk. As he starts to unroll the scroll, all eyes are on him. Mary is trying hard not to show any emotion, but this is her boy up there in front of everyone, she must have felt so proud. It’s a long scroll and it takes a while for Jesus to find the passage he has in mind – one near the very end.

And here it is.

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour.”

They all sit transfixed, waiting for his words of insight. His neighbours, childhood friends, his aunts, uncles and cousins, the respectable religious leaders, even his own mother – waiting to hear what he has to say.

And Jesus rolls up the scroll and gives it back to the attendant and sits down.

And then he says to them,

“Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Can you imagine it? Can you imagine if that happened here and now?

Now we are in the middle of the season after Epiphany when we celebrate how God has been revealed to us in the person of Jesus Christ who came in human form and lived among us, the one we call Emmanuel.

Luke (the author of today’s gospel) liked to talk about the Holy Spirit. In fact, Luke referred to the third person of the Trinity more than all the other evangelists combined. And if we were to take the whole of chapter 4 of Luke’s gospel we see Jesus

• being filled with the Holy Spirit at his baptism,
• led by the Spirit into the wilderness,
• returning to Galilee in the power of the Spirit,
• and proclaiming the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy that “the Spirit of the Lord” was upon him.

Clearly, the evidence of the Holy Spirit’s work in the life of Jesus was something Luke wanted to be sure his readers would notice.

And so why didn’t the good people of Nazareth, Jesus’ own family and neighbours, see it?

They were obviously looking for some evidence of God’s Spirit. They’d heard the rumours from other towns in the area, especially from Capernaum and the area around the Sea of Galilee. This Jesus they thought they knew so well had already gained quite a reputation as a teacher, so it isn’t surprising that they give him the scroll to read when he enters the local synagogue.

It was common practice for the teacher of the day to stand while reading the Scripture, then sit down to teach from it and no one seems surprised when Jesus does this. In fact, they all seem to be eagerly listening to what Jesus might have to say about this ancient prophecy.

A prophecy where Isaiah had started proclaiming the word of the Lord to a people returning from exile and hope was beginning to rise amongst the nation of Israel. Isaiah preached comfort to God’s people and they responded with eagerness to that message. When Jesus chooses this particular passage to read to the people of Nazareth, it was a reminder to all of them that they too should live in  hope. Remember, they were living under Roman oppression, just as their ancestors had lived under oppression from the Babylonians and the Assyrians. The people were ready for some good news.

These words have meaning for us now, just as they did for those exiles returning to Jerusalem and for the people of Nazareth who heard Jesus say, “Today, this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.” And just as Christ offers us hope with these words, he also calls us to be the ones who bring good news to the oppressed, who bind up the broken-hearted, who proclaim liberty and release and who announce the Lord’s favour and grace to be freely available to all. Not just in the future, but now! Today!

Good news for some can mean bad news for others, especially in our current culture where the gap between those who have much and those who have little continues to grow. When it comes down to it, all the rhetoric we hear from politicians, all the arguments we see on social media amount to nothing more than questions of justice. And justice almost always has to do with who has how much of what – whether it’s wealth, property, power or acceptance.

The really challenging part for most of us, is realising that we actually participate in much of the oppression happening around the world today – through the things we buy, the privileges we enjoy and the way we can ignore suffering – whether we like it or not, most of us are complicit in oppressing others – and our society has become so structured that it makes it really hard not to become complicit.

But today Luke shows us how we might face this dilemma. Luke tells us in verse 20 that the people of Nazareth were listening intently as Jesus sat down to teach. “The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him,”

Imagine what it might be like to fix our eyes on Jesus! Because when we focus our attention completely on Him, we can also see our place in the world more clearly. Instead of letting our gaze settle on those things that irritate us, anger us or cause us pain, we would see only Jesus and the disagreements that divide us would lose their importance.

We would see the ways our lives impact others with greater clarity. When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, we can recognise the part we sometimes play in the systems and structures that send out the false message that some people have more value than others, that some people deserve more than others – and we can start to do something to change those systems and structures.

We can demonstrate in real and powerful ways that every human being has value and worth to God.

When our eyes are fixed on Jesus, good news really is good news. We engage with Christ in the work of making what’s wrong with the world right. Issues of mercy and justice are no longer just issues we talk about – mercy and justice become real in the person of Jesus Christ working through us.

This is the season after Epiphany, when Christ is revealed as God among us. As we recognise the Saviour’s presence, and fix our eyes and hearts on Him, may we point others toward Jesus and say to them, “Let me show you God’s Son. Let me show you the one who sets the captives free, who brings sight to the blind and frees those living under oppression.” Today the scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.