Trinity Sunday Reflections

 Psalm 8, Romans 5:1-5, John 16:12-15

In John’s Gospel Jesus says of the Father and the Holy Spirit “All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said that he will take what is mine and declare it to you.” Today is Trinity Sunday.

It may seem a strange way to start my sermon this morning but throughout the week whenever I began thinking about the Trinity I kept being transported into the hospital room as my mother was dying.

It is over a decade since I lost my mother but as she was approaching her last breaths I can recall a desire for prayer. Both my father and I are ministers but neither of us in this moment offered to pray.  

It is a strange thing to be present as someone dies and to contemplate your own mortality. How do we make sense of the eclectic experiences that make up our existence as we sit in the liminal space of our own mortality? On reflection I am wondering where God was in that moment.

That moment was a space of faith and doubt poignantly captured in a poem by Pádraig Ó Tuama entitled, ‘Do you believe in God?’

‘Do you believe in God?’

Though I've lost God, God is

The only language that I speak.

I need to describe this loss.

 

I thought he appeared

and disappeared. Now God’s

nowhere, though this loss

 

is like memory carried in a gust

of air, a scent. I make myself

describe what I have lost

 

with attention to the yearning

I still have. But I fear

God became a word

 

to bear all I could not bear.

God bore it well. No

containing now. An empty shell.

 

I have a need, or grief,

for what was never there.

I have lost God. God

is the only language that I speak.

 

The last line stands out echoing the poem’s beginning: “I have lost God. God is the only language that I speak.” ... God is the only language that I speak.

The poem addresses the ambiguity of our relationship with God. God’s complex and mysterious presence and silence through the rhythm of our existence. How do we make sense of this God to whom we have come this day to worship?

What names shall we call this God by?

Today is Trinity Sunday. And today we name God as Father, and as Son, and as Holy Spirit. The Triune God who is one in three and three in one. What sense might we make of this naming of God?

My mother was by her profession was an English teacher and she loved words and language. Any teacher might tell you that the way to explain something is to use an analogy. So, I have something in my suitcase that might either help us or confuse us.

My favourite analogy to explain the Trinity is to juggle. For me the pattern and movement of the balls is the analogy. There is this wonderful Greek word perichoresis which is sometimes use to explain the divine dance of the three person of the Trinity. But when the balls cease to move the analogy falls apart as most analogies do.

Most of the ones that we might try fall into one or more of the ancient heresies. Water which can be also or vapor suggests the heresy of modalism. This was promoted by Noetus and Sabellius. The sun in the sky which is the star itself, its light, and heat is a form of Arianism. Whilst a 3 leaf clover partialism – three segments composing a whole.

These attempts to explain the hidden nature of God all fall short and remind me of the writings of Gregory of Nazianzus the Bishop of Constantinople who was instrumental in solidifying the divinity of the Holy Spirit and altering the Nicene Creed. In his oration on the Holy Spirit, he declared of the Trinity:

“I have very carefully considered this matter in my own mind, and have looked at it in every point of view, in order to find some illustration of this most important subject, but I have been unable to discover anything on earth with which to compare the nature of the Godhead.” Gregory of Nazianzus (c.329 C.E. -390 C.E.) Fifth Theological Oration. On the Holy Spirit 380-381.

Attempts to domesticate the mystery of God’s life as Father, Son and Spirit always fall short. So let me offer three reflections from our three readings about how we experience God as Trinity, and which might help us to contemplate who God is.

Reflection 1 - Psalm 8

In Psalm 8 which we used as our call to worship we caught a glimpse of God who is the origin of all things, and the place God gave humans within the creation. It ties us back to the story of creation in genesis 1 and to The Nicene Creed describes God the Father with these words.

We believe in one God,

the Father, the almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

of all that is, seen and unseen.

The Psalmist wrote of human beings, “You have given them dominion over the works of your hands.” There are been many occasions in recent years that I have posed the question in a sermon “so how’s this whole dominion thing working out for us?”

I was reminded about this during the week when I read about the interview between David Attenborough and Prince William reflecting on the state of the oceans. The Psalm gives us responsibility for the fish of the sea and whatever passes along the paths of the seas. Attenborough says in the interview, "What we have done to the deep ocean floor is just unspeakably awful. If you did anything remotely like it on land, everybody would be up in arms," The interview reminded me of the Ted Talk I watched in 2011 with Jeremy Jackson talking about the great pacific garbage patch. “How’s this whole dominion thing working out for us?”

This Psalm also inspired a poem

City Lights

by Peter Lockhart

 

When I look at your heavens;

the work of your fingers;

the moon and the stars that you have established,

 

I wonder why the number of stars

is diminishing:

the moon is not so bright

and the stars are fading...

...and disappearing

 

Thank God for the fluorescent stars,

stuck on my daughter's ceiling,

a dim and facile sign

to remind them of what is:

the wonder of your creation,

to which we are blinding them

with our city lights

and landscaped lives.

According to Genesis 1 God who is the author and origin of all that is created humans in God’s own image. Yet despite this we flounder when it comes to caring for all that God has made. As I reflect on my mother’s life, I treasure the memory of her love of nature and bird watching. The fragility of the beauty of the creation and of the preciousness of life that I was reminded of in my mother’s hospital room is countered by the hopeful question in the Psalmists mouth “what are humans that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them?” Here is hope that God cares for us even when we fail to care for what God has made.

Reflection 2 – John 14

The presence of the Holy Spirit in the world and her coming is described by Jesus in John when says, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth.”

But what is this truth that the Holy Spirit guides us towards. In the post-truth world, our relationship with the concept of the truth is strained. Whether we recognise it or not we are all philosophical heirs of the Enlightenment and its children modernism, postmodernism and meta modernism. 

Many of us are still caught in the trap of the modernist thinking that evolved into an unhealthy scientism which left no room for mystery.  It also shaped the way we began to read the Bible and led Christians into both literal and liberal ways of interpreting the Bible. In this world truth is objective, universal, and discoverable through reason, science, and progress. But for anyone who understands the philosophy of science we know that science is grounded in doubt and the drive to discover new insights.

The truth that the Holy Spirit leads towards is the crucified and risen one who is coming to us from the future and is in all things already. The cosmic nature of Jesus is described in the first Chapter of Paul’s letter to Colossians.

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation, for in him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or powers—all things have been created through him and for him. He himself is before all things, and in him all things hold together.

On the one hand you could say that if you want to see God, look to the Christ who is coming to us from the future. Yet, you could also say that through the power of the Holy Spirit he is already with us everywhere. Aub Podlich invites us to be challenged by the irony of our attempts at seeing God in his poem ‘Ground, Air, Mother’

You want to see God?

Does a worm see the garden

in which it tunnels?

Do you see the air

you gulp into your lungs?

Does a baby see the mother

in whom he comes to life?

 

You cannot capture me

like a passing butterfly,

netted with the eyes,

pinned to a board of words

for every scale and spot

to be observed.

You can no more encapsule me

with words or pictures

or your very best intentioned

ideas of Me,

then you can net

the slippery waters of the sea

 

I am not One to be seen.

I am Ground to hide in,

Air to breathe,

a Mother in which to be born.

I am a Life to be lived!

See me?

Is it not enough

that I am One

who sees you

through and through?

As I contemplate the mystery of the coming Christ and the presence of the Holy Spirit I am reassured that any sense of silence or absence in my mother’s hospital room was no less or more than the silence of God that Jesus himself experienced on the cross.

Reflection 3 – Romans 5

In the work of the great Reformer Martin Luther 500 years ago the importance of the words of Paul to the Romans cannot be underestimated.

“Therefore, since we are justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have obtained access to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in our hope of sharing the glory of God.”

There are a few key words here for us to think about in our relationship with God and with Jesus.

Grace, justified, sanctified, peace, forgiveness, repentance

"Christ died for us while we were still sinners" Romans 8

Consider these words from the Japanese biologist and theologian Kagawa Toyohiko

Transcendence and Incarnation

Takayama Chogyū taught, “By every means, we must not fail to transcend the present time.” To this statement, I should like to add the following, “Those who know the way of transcendence must know the way of incarnation.” This is the way to which the Kegon Sutra[27] points and the way taken by the carpenter of Nazareth. In the carpentry of the carpenter’s son scorned by gluttons and drunkards, there was no dream of separating labor and religion.

Neither fasting nor maintaining the purity rituals, he was friend to sinners and confidant to prostitutes, thoroughly stained by the dirt of everyday life. That was the way of his incarnation. As a criminal condemned to death, he thus took the downhill direction by dying on the cross. He whose end was a bloodbath of the flesh entered into the final religion. When the final word of the criminal condemned to die on the cross was spoken, the world and every last one remaining in it was drawn into God. (A Few Words in the Dark Kagawa Toyohiko)

This is good news and as I contemplate again the scene of my mother’s hospital room the faith which I have that draws me in is precisely this mystery. Beyond how I felt or thought, beyond what she was experiencing the miracle of God’s grace was present because in and through Jesus the world and every last one remaining in it was drawn into God, including my mother.

As I look upon the world on what is happening in the protests in L.A. and across the USA, in Israel and its new attacks on Iran, in Ukraine and Russia there is a senselessness and hopelessness. But Just like the ambiguity and liminal space of my mother’s room I contemplate the work of the God who we name as Trinity: through Jesus the world and every last one remaining in it was drawn into God

Today is Trinity Sunday. Any attempts at divine definitions fall away and fail before the mystery of who God is because God existed before we had a word for God and any attempts to name or describe God are inadequate. Paul wrote, “Faith is hope in things not seen”. but through some miracle of the Holy Spirit we glimpse God who has come to us in Jesus and receive the gift of faith which draws us forward to follow him. 

Peace: not as the world gives.

A sermon on John 14:23-29

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.”

These words of Jesus that we've heard today take place in the context of the Last Supper. He is preparing his disciples for what is to come next - his betrayal, his arrest, his death and resurrection. In the process of doing so he teaches them about the mystery of hope beyond death and the coming of the Holy Spirit. Maybe it is for this reason that in the Uniting in Worship liturgy book there is a suggestion of selected verses from John 14 as suitable for funerals.

As we dive a little deeper into the way that the passage might be interpreting our lives this morning, I want to delve into 3 topics related to the notion of the peace that Jesus leaves with us.

• First, the relationship between peace and our mortality.

• Second, the idea of being at peace within ourselves.

• And third, the importance of contemplating world peace.

I would suggest to you that the most selected passage that I have been asked to use at funerals is John 14 selected verses.

The selected verses begin with Jesus’ saying to the disciples that in his Father's house there are many rooms and that he is going to go and prepare a place for them. Later, we find the phrase that I've highlighted this morning, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.” Whilst the origin of the phrase “rest in peace” remains hidden, it seems more than likely that the imagery of this passage may have informed that saying.

The veil between life and death remains opaque. We cannot see what lies beyond the grave but within this passage there is hope at what lies for us beyond this life is peace. For any of us who have experienced the grief of the loss of someone that we love this may be our hope. 

However, the idea that we might have peace in the face of our mortality is much more complicated. It brings to mind Dylan Thomas’s poem, ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’. The poem invites us to rage against death and the dying of the light. Moreover, for those of us who go on there is often anything but a sense of peace. 

During the week, I was reading the ‘Red Hand Files’ written by the Australian musician Nick Cave. He responds to letters written to him by his fans. A man wrote this question:

"Three and a half years ago I lost my wife and I was left to take care of my (then 2 year old) daughter. She’s a happy little girl but I know she’s happiest when her father is happy. I’ve been finding it hard to find happiness. It’s not my loss – I made peace with that a while back. I just haven’t found my life again."

For those of you who know Nick Cave’s story you will be aware that he has lost two of his own children. Within his response Cave notes how loss has changed his life and he writes:

“Grief is beyond our control; it is omnipotent and invincible and we are miniscule in its presence and when it comes for us, all we can do is to kneel before it, heads bowed and await its passing.” 

I can’t but help think of Jesus ay Lazarus tomb when Jesus wept. Cave goes on to offer these somewhat hopeful words.

“We are alone but we are also connected in a personhood of suffering. We have reached out to each other, with nothing to offer, but an acceptance of our mutual despair.”

This sense of not being alone amid our grief and despair stood out to me as I contemplated the notion that in Jesus God connects with our personhood and with our suffering as he experiences death. And, more than that, within the passage Jesus promises “Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them.”

These words serve as a paradox and mystery to the opening words of John 14 when Jesus says he will go ahead to prepare a room in his Father's house. Through the power of the Holy Spirit described in the passage it appears that the home of God, the Father’s house, is within us. In the moments that we feel as if we have been abandoned by God, we can remember that God in Jesus has felt the same as us on the cross. And, that in life and in death God makes God’s home within us.

This is the mystery of grace: “I do not give to you as the world gives.”

Maybe the peace that we receive in such moments surpasses all our understanding for we do not fully comprehend it of even feel it but can only seek after it with our broken hearts.

This brings me to share with you about having peace within ourselves. There is an often-quoted passage which has its origins in Leviticus 19:18. "Love your neighbour as yourself." This is a fine teaching, but I can't help but wonder what happens when we don't love ourselves. And possibly more problematic than that, is the words that we read today “Those who love me will keep my word”. But what happens when we struggle to love God with all our heart and mind and soul? Surely such doubts about our love of God and neighbour are a source of disquiet and bring anything but peace.

Reading the scriptures more broadly can help us on this point. In a sermon that I shared with the congregation a few weeks ago I explored the complex relationship between Jesus and Peter and the limitations that appeared to be present in Peter's capacity to love Jesus. In his final interaction with Jesus, Peter is not to be express unconditional love for Jesus. Peter can only express love within the limitations of his own existence. 

The words of 1 John 4 serve as an invitation for us to remember that “We love because he first loved us.” Added to Peter’s interaction we love from the paucity of our capacity to do so. We do not love God to earn God’s love or to be accepted by God but because God is love and in him, we live and move and have our being. In this we too can become love. The good news for each and every person is that starting point for our lives is that we are already loved and we can love God and each other.

This message of acceptance is so important against the backdrop of a culture that sees people struggling to find their meaning and place in the world. We search for identity in the things that we do and the way that we express ourselves – we look to earn our validity. I wonder whether the pressure to define our own existence through our achievements and our identity contributes to the massive challenges that we are having with mental health issues. In Australia one on five people are experiencing mental Health Issues. How do we find a sense of peace when we seek it from trying to define ourselves and earn our place in the world.

God’s starting point with us is different. It is grace, it is love and it is forgiveness. At Synod one of the Bible studies explore Isaiah 42 which reminds us of God’s promise: “I have swept away your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you.” (Is 44:22) Paul later wrote in Romans “Christ died for us while we were yet sinners.” Grace precedes repentance. We turn to God to discover we are already loved and forgiven. Andrew Peterson captures the encouragement to look beyond our self-doubt to God’s love in the song, “Be kind to yourself”.

The third issue that I wanted to explore with you is the answer from the beauty pageant contestant when they are asked what they most want. The stereotyped answer given is “World peace.” As shallow as this sometimes sounds our personal sense of peace and wellbeing should be balanced with a concern for what is happening in the world and in the lives of other people.

Over the years many people have said to me that they do not watch the news because they want to avoid the bad news. And I realise that there are times that we cannot carry the weight of the world on our shoulders because of what is going on in their own lives. However, Jesus is the eternal Word of God and as Paul describes in Colossians the cosmic Christ. Our personal sense of peace and wellbeing should not come in isolation or abstraction from what is occurring in the world. Tomas Halik reminds us that “the manifestation of true faith, according to the prophets, is to ‘take in the orphan and stand up for the widow.’ 

Faith in God releases us from the need to find ourselves and justify our own existence and live loving others. As people who love God, we might well ask ourselves, ‘What does love look like as we contemplate what is unfolding in Palestine or in Ukraine? What does love look like when we consider nations who are beset by poverty? What does love look like as we watch the flood unfolding in NSW? What does love look like for the creation which is crying out? Last week Michelle raised issues about domestic violence in our culture?

The words of Jeremiah confront us

For from the least to the greatest of them,

everyone is greedy for unjust gain;

and from prophet to priest,

everyone deals falsely.

They have treated the wound of my people carelessly,

saying, “Peace, peace,”

when there is no peace. (Jerimiah 6:13-14)

How do we reconcile Jeremiah’s words with Jesus’ teaching, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives.” How do we live the peace which has been given to us as a gift? How do we experience and be part of God’s peacemaking in the world? For, as Jesus taught, blessed are the peacemakers.

Maybe the best that we can do is from our fallibility and limitations join in prayer of St Francis Lord, make me an instrument of your peace and be open to the God whose presence and peace is already within us.

As always, I invite a moment of silence to reflect on the one thing which has stood out for you. I encourage you to take on board the notion that I is personal not private and this worthy of sharing with others. I also encourage you to consider that if someone shares with you, they are being vulnerable so listen with openness and grace. Listen conscious of Jesus injunction, ‘Do not judge.’  After a few moments of silence, I invite you to recite the words of the Pray of St Francis with me.

Prayer of St Francis 

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy; O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.

Hearing the Shepherd's Voice

John 10:22-30

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.

The image of sheep hearing a shepherd’s voice doesn't make much sense to us living in modern 21st century Australia. However, this imagery was made much more tangible to me by a member of a previous congregation, Burt. He served in World War 2.

But was stationed in Egypt and was sitting by an Oasis. As he sat there, he observed shepherds bringing their flocks in for water. Burt had come from the country so as he watched the shepherds, he was a little bit perplexed by what he saw. As the sheep came into the oasis, they all mingled together. What Bert then saw gave him a new insight into this biblical passage. As each of the shepherds began to leave, they would call out, each in a distinctive way. As they called out the sheep that belonged to that shepherd came out and followed the shepherd.

It was this story that gave new meaning to this imagery for Bert and then by association to me. ‘My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.’

 As I contemplated this phrase during the week ‘my sheep hear my voice’ I was led to wondering about the idea of whether we continue to listen for the shepherd's voice in our own midst and why we might even think we should do this. Why would we want to listen for Jesus’ voice?

The answer to this could be the whole sermon but I'm going to restrict it to a short answer as to why we would want to listen to Jesus’ voice. And, to do this I'm going to give two quick references from the Bible reading.

In the last words of the reading, Jesus declared, “The Father and I are one.” This claim of Jesus has echoes of the beginning of the gospel of John, in which the author makes the claim that Jesus was present at the time of creation. If Jesus is, as John claims, one with the creator of all things when we listen for Jesus, we are listening for the voice of the one who is the origin and destination of all things. Listening for Jesus’ voice we are listening to the one who created the pastures of this universe and this world in which we live.

We are listening to Jesus’ voice because it is a voice that gives to us hope in a world where there is so much suffering and pain and death. He says of his sheep, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish.”

The promise of eternal life is a complex concept. Just last week a member of the congregation asked me what I thought internal life was. I am not going to dedicate this whole sermon to answering that question, but I'll make just a few comments. Why do we listen to Jesus’ voice? Because in his voice we hear teachings about what it means to live as the people of God, on earth as it is in heaven, as people of the reign of God, or the Kingdom of God encountering God's love now with the hope that the one who exists outside of time gives to us a future beyond time ourselves.

Why do we listen for Jesus’ voice? Because he gives to us hope in things not seen. This brings me back to the suitcase and the question how we go about listening for Jesus’ voice?

I have three items in my suitcase which represent 3 approaches to us thinking about how we listen for Jesus’ voice.

The first is a photo of my mother, the second is a Bible, and the third is a pile of orange and blue cards. These three objects represent how the shepherd may speak to us through personal relationships, through the lens of scripture and tradition, and within the context of the community of faith.

I decided to include a photo of my mother because I have a conviction that for many of us, we hear the shepherd's voice through other significant people in our lives. I'm not sure I would specifically say that I heard Jesus speaking through my mother but her example of faith I think contributes to who I am today.

There may be some among you on this Mother's Day who might reflect on teachings of your own mother around faith and spirituality and conclude maybe Jesus was speaking to you through her. However, as I've already indicated earlier in the service not everyone has had a great relationship with their mother.

Nevertheless, it is often through a personal interaction that many of us discover that Jesus is speaking to us. If not your mother, may be your father, or maybe it was a brother or sister or a friend, maybe it was a Sunday school teacher, I use group leader, or even a minister! Maybe it was someone who's not even a Christian. Jesus’ voice can come to us through anybody. This is a very personal thing, but I would encourage you not to think of it as a private thing.

Let me expand a little on what I mean that these experiences are personal but not private. The way that we discover whether it may be Jesus’ voice saying something to us is by engaging in conversations with those who have a depth of understanding of their own faith. We move our personal experiences of hearing Jesus’ voice into conversations with others so that we might grow. As your minister I maintain a relationship with a spiritual director with whom I have such conversations. As you reflect on how you think Jesus may be speaking to you personally my question for you would be who you are testing that idea with. Who is your spiritual director?

Our culture tends to tell us that matters of spirituality and faith should be kept to ourselves – to be kept private. However, discerning what Jesus is saying to us is a communal activity, but it means taking a step of vulnerability to share our personal stories.

This brings me to speak about the place of the scriptures in the process of working out what Jesus is saying. As people of the Uniting Church, we have a heritage in a tradition that teaches us that revelation comes to us through the Bible. At the time of the Reformation, around 500 years ago, the reformers sought to ground the authority of their teaching in the biblical witness. They used the phrase sola scriptura or be scripture alone.

Part of the reason for the appeal to the Bible was a rejection of the teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. However, we should not be naive the reformers had specific ways in which they were interpreting the text of the Bible. The Bible is a complex series of books that presents us with challenges when we seek to read it. In her book Even the Devil Quotes Scripture Robyn J. Whitaker reminds us, “Being able to quote the Bible does not guarantee that one has heard its message or attempts to live out its overarching ethic.” p.12

Whitaker Encourages us to “take the Bible seriously, not literally.” P.11 Taking the Bible seriously means recognising that when any of us come to reading the scriptures we are engaging in interpretation that is based upon the influences that have acted on our lives. Being conscious of the bias that we bring is important and she like other theologians and biblical scholars would encourage us to use the key lens through which we interpret the scripture to be love. In the lasty chapter of her book she says, “If our interpretation does not lead to love, we have, frankly, missed the point.” P.179

Again, whilst we can read the Bible for ourselves on a personal level as a church we are encouraged to read and interpret the Scripture together. In the Basis of Union of the Uniting Church it says:

“The Word of God [Jesus] on whom salvation depends is to be heard and known from Scripture appropriated in the worshipping and witnessing life of the Church. The Uniting Church lays upon her members the serious duty of reading the Scriptures and commits its ministers to preach from these.” (Paragraph 5, Basis of Union)

This brings me to the third item from the suitcase. During the week we saw how the cardinals of the Catholic Church demonstrate their process of discernment through a series of votes. White smoke indicated that they had selected Cardinal Robert Prevost. He has taken the name Pope Leo XIV. For the Uniting Church we use the blue and orange cards to demonstrate our discernment. We use a process of consensus when we are seeking to make decisions together. In congregation meetings, at Presbytery meetings, at the Synod meeting which begins this week, and in the National Assembly we use these blue and orange cards to indicate what we believe God is leading us towards.

Many people mistakenly believe that the Uniting Church is some form of representative democracy. However, when I go to Presbytery, Synod or Assembly or when I meet as a member of the church council my task is not to represent the interests of my congregation all my personal biases but to ask myself how I am hearing in Jesus the Good Shepherd speak to me in this issue. When I hold up a blue card in a meeting, I am indicating that I am not discerning and thinking that I can hear Jesus leading us in this direction. When I hold up an orange card, I am saying that I feel warm to this idea and that maybe Jesus is speaking to me in an affirmative way around this issue.

In seeking to make decisions as a church our primary approach should be one of prayer and deep listening. In our discernment we pray that we are making decisions together you and I are being asked to think about how we have heard the shepherd's voice. Of course, there are times that we disagree, and this is difficult for us be cause for those who agree or disagree both believe they're being led by the Holy Spirit. As fallible human beings we do the best that we can do as we honour the voices around us and as we listened to one another in the hope and prayer that we've heard Jesus speaking to us. When we seek to listen for Jesus’ voice collectively, we bring to bear all our personal experiences of faith, alongside our understanding and interpretation of scripture, help us in our deliberations.

Why? Because we believe that the God who is beyond us and beyond the creation and who is the origin. and the destination of all things cares about us and came to be with us in Jesus.

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.

What an astounding idea! That Jesus might speak to us but as you have heard me say before, in the act of preaching my task is to faithfully unpack in the best way I can the ideas that have come to me during the week. Your task is to listen for what Jesus Christ might be saying to you as his sheep. The Basis of Union it reminds us “Christ who is present when he is preached among people is the Word of the God who acquits the guilty, who gives life to the dead and who brings into being what otherwise could not exist.” (Paragraph 4)

At the end of each sermon, I invite you to think about what is the one thing that you believe Jesus might be speaking to you today. It may have been something that I said, or it might be an image or an idea that has come into your head as you have been listening. It could have been a feeling or a fleeting thought. In any of these moments the Holy Spirit may have been articulating Jesus’ voice to you.

My encouragement is, as it has been throughout this sermon, that you see this revelation of the one thing as a personal but not private matter. In other words, that you take the opportunity to have a conversation with someone else about that one thing and in doing so to explore what it means for your life that God has brought this idea or this one thing into your mind and into your heart. So as always, I'm now going to leave a moment silence an ask that question what is the one thing that God is saying to you today? And encourage you to think about who you might share that one thing with.

The cloaks that didn't make the road

This Palm Sunday I revisited in a fresh way an old theme. Whilst many greeted Jesus coming into Jerusalem there were many who did not or could not. Which leads to asking the question did Jesus enter Jerusalem for them as well? Whilst I refreshed the message here is one with a similar theme from a few years ago. A different heresy: The cloaks that didn't make the road.

God is no-thing?

Induction of HA to Hospital Chaplaincy

Isaiah 43:1-3a, 16-21

“I am about to do a new thing. Now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?”

So writes the prophet Isaiah over two and a half thousand years ago.  How do we understand his prophetic words on this day?

It would be the easy option for me this morning to sentimentalise the words of the prophet Isaiah into this moment in HA’s life.

“God is about to do a new thing in HA’s life.”

“God is about to do a new thing in St Andrews.”

“God is about to do a new thing in UnitingCare.”

Such sentimentalising of the reading would feel nice and recognise a simple truth that is occurring – HA is about to start work in a new placement. I think that the poem that HA has chosen for us to listen to as part of this liturgy taps into the human everyday fear and excitement of starting something new. But such a focus would reflect the domestication of the scriptures to the individualism of our era and pull our human activity to the centre of the sermon rather than who God is and what God has done.   

Such sentimentalising also helps us to step around the complexity of the context of Isaiah’s prophecy as we think about his broader message. Whilst the words we read from the prophet today have an uptick of hopefulness they are set against a much bigger picture. The ancient geopolitical implications of the prophet’s words have an undertone of violence and war between Israel and its neighbours, particularly the Babylonian Empire. The vision of God’s involvement in setting aside patches of land for chosen people are still being played out in our contemporary world. Not simply for Israel but for those who see such visions might justify the concept of a Christian nation. Stepping into this complex space feels inappropriate for today’s sermon but needs to be acknowledged.

As Christians hearing this text I wonder if it might be helpful to dwell on the following phrase a bit more deeply:

Do not remember the former things

or consider the things of old.

 It seems ironic to say do not remember the former things when we are seeking wisdom from something from ‘of old’. It is an ancient text. Still, the promise of God doing a new thing, and perceiving what that might be, challenges us to read the vision of Isaiah with fresh eyes. As Christians we are invited to wonder what is the new thing that God is doing.

As I contemplated this question, I began to wonder how God even perceives doing something new. In his book The Afternoon of Christianity Tomáš Halík reminds us of this confronting insight from the mystical traditions into the mystery of God. God is nothing. Let me say that a little differently.

God is no-thing. In other words, the concept of substance or matter is irrelevant to God’s existence. God is utterly transcendent and beyond our human comprehension.

To push this mystery a little further of God is no-thing then we should also then contemplate the possibility that God is also no-where. Prior to the creation, if prior is even a relevant category, there was nothing and nowhere and maybe even more baffling is the idea God is no-when. The physicist who later became a theologian Victor Pannenberg explores in depth the complex relationship of linear historical time with the eternity of God.

So how do we make any sense of God who is no-thing, no-where, and no-when doing something new within created reality. How can there be new or old if space and time are irrelevant.

At the beginning of John’s gospel, we read, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being … and the Word became flesh.”

In Christ, God who is a mystery utterly beyond us and transcendent, becomes entirely immanent. In Jesus we discover this utterly perplexing and amazing revelation:

God is some-thing (or some-one). God is some-where. And God is some-when.

Pannenberg wrote, “Only in the history of Jesus of Nazareth did the eschatological future, and with it the eternity of God, really enter the historical present.”[1] This event of God doing something new within the creation has an effect that ripples back and forth through time and space and touches the whole cosmos. As Paul later wrote to the Corinthians, “In Christ God was reconciling the whole world to himself.” (2 Cor 5:19)

The incarnation has cosmic implications as the transcendence of God intersect with created reality and invites all things to find their home with God as God finds a home with us. The breaking down of the barrier between the creator and the creation is symbolised as Jesus dies. Mark tells us that “The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom,” (Mark 15:38)

This tearing of the temple curtain as a sign of God’s presence in the world is made clearer as the resurrected Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on the disciples and later, on the day of Pentecost. The particularity of the incarnation as the meeting place between the divine and human finds its universal expression through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Through the power of the Holy Spirit God is in everything. God is everywhere. And God is everywhen.

Paul theologises Jesus’ presence in the world when he writes to the people at Ephesus. “God has put all things under the authority of Christ and has made him head over all things for the benefit of the church. And the church is his body; it is made full and complete by Christ, who fills all things everywhere with himself.” (Ephesians 1:22-23)

In the book of Lamentations we hear those well-worn words, “God’s mercies … are new every morning.” God who relates to us from beyond time now comes to us within time, in all things and in all people. Each and every moment a moment in which the eternal life of God the resurrection hope is present. This is the good news which we carry and offer to others, and which takes me back to where I started.

“I am about to do a new thing.

Now it springs forth; do you not perceive it?”

The new thing that God is doing is being in the world and in our lives through the eternal Word and the power of the Holy Spirit. Pastoral Care takes on fresh meaning for us when we embrace this truth. In pastoral care our sentimentalizing and our practical responses to people’s pain and suffering is done in the context of knowing that God is already there. We are there to point beyond ourselves and whatever is occurring to this presence of God which is the hope by which we live.

There is an image from the Easter stories which I think might be a helpful story as we contemplate our place in all of this. Maybe the best that we can say as people who seek to do pastoral care is that we wait alongside those who are suffering, sick, or sorrowing outside an empty tomb. We stand with them longing to hear Jesus’ reassuring voice speak our name just as he spoke Mary’s. For it is in this moment of hearing his voice that we truly know that we are not alone. We know that God is with us. Sometimes it is through our voice as carers that God’s presence becomes known. And sometimes it is through the voice of those we care from that we come to know God’s presence as we hear our name spoken.

HA. May the mystery of the transcendent and immanent God found in Jesus be with you in your personal pastoral encounters as you share in the hope of a God’s whose love knows no bounds and touches all things.

Amen

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[1] Pannenberg, Systematic Theology, vol. 3, 604; cf. Theology of God’s Kingdom, 133.