Evensong : Third Sunday Before Lent

Amos 3:1-8

Ephesians 5:1-17

Do you know Amos? He was a farmer who lived at a time when the Land God had given his people had been divided in two. You see, living in the Land was part of the covenant agreement between God and his people, and as such was conditional, on holding faithfully to that covenant agreement. God had established David as king, and his descendants. But David’s son Solomon did not remain faithful to God, despite having had profound experiences of encountering God himself. So God told Solomon that he would tear the kingdom from his family, although, out of love for David, God would not do that in Solomon’s time but in the time of his son; and God would not tear away the whole kingdom, but leave one tribe plus the city of Jerusalem, which did not belong to any of the tribes.

And so the kingdom was divided: Israel in the north, ruled from Samaria; and Judah in the south, ruled from Jerusalem. Two lines of kings. One after another, the kings in Samaria led the people away from God, until God's patience ran out, and Israel was carried off into exile in Assyria. The kings in Jerusalem were not much better – there were a couple of revivals, and Judah is spared for a longer time, but eventually God’s patience ran out with the southern kingdom too, and they were carried off into exile in Babylon.

But again and again, God sent prophets to call his people to repent and believe, to turn away from corruption and embrace God’s pattern for a just society.

Amos was an unlikely prophet – a farmer, the son of a farmer, no history of prophets - those sent by God to proclaim a message, to hold out potential futures and call the people to choose life not death - no history of prophets in his family history. But God calls this southern farmer and sends him to speak to the urban ruling elite of the northern kingdom...who tell him to take the next train back south and not come back again.

But he will not. God has placed a word within him that must be given voice, whether the people respond or not. And the word is this: your kingdom is rotten to the core. The wealthy have become obscenely rich; the poor, a scandal. A scandal not of their own making, through a stubborn refusal to become rich; rather, they are exploited, by a political system that exploits them, stealing their land so that most of the resources are in the hands of a very few, and a corrupt judicial system that refuses to stand up for them and deliver justice. Moreover, the ruling elite have become utterly immoral in their private lives - for the public and the private are inseparable - while displaying a public piety that might fool some, but certainly doesn't fool God.

The problem with the Bible is that it was written so long ago and in such a very different culture from our own that it is hard to see what relevance it has to our day...No, despite the constant temptation to adopt a positivist view of human history, this sounds frighteningly current.

The message Amos brought was this: you have not been faithful to the covenant agreement with God. A society built on injustice cannot stand indefinitely. That you are enjoying the fruits of darkness for now is testimony to God’s patience, not his approval. Though you are unfaithful, he is faithful, and that is why he keeps calling you back. But if you will not return, if you will not repent and change your ways, your world will collapse, will come to an end. And because God is faithful, he will, in time, restore those you have exploited. In time, they will prosper; but in order for that to happen, you will have been removed.

The elite of Samaria did not repent, and sometime later were swept away, never to return. So much for then. What does Amos have to say to us, today?

Firstly, as part of the family of faith, Amos is our ancestor, a prophet in our family line. We, too, are sent to address the ruling elite, to remind them of the burden placed upon them to administer justice, to defend the widow, the orphan and the resident alien, to protect the poor from the rich. We are sent to remind them of God's patience, but also that a corrupt society sows its own destruction.

But our speaking out does not guarantee that hearts will turn away from the fruits of darkness. It may well be that we will be called, as some of the prophets were called, to live through the end of the world as we have known it. To play our part in being faithful in a ruined land. And to play our part in rebuilding communities after the waters have subsided.

Salt Of The Earth

Matthew 5:13-20

We have left the Season of Epiphany behind, and the Season of Lent is as yet a little way off. For now, we find ourselves in Ordinary Time: every-day, common-or-garden, run-of-the-mill, life-goes-on time. Most-of-the-time Time.

Jesus has begun his public ministry. He has left Nazareth and relocated to Capernaum, at the bottom of the hill, on the shore of the lake. He has called his first disciples to follow him, to learn from him and to join-in with what he is doing. His method is to do something – to teach or to heal - and then to process with his disciples what it is that they have just experienced. But as his reputation as a teacher and healer grows, it gets harder to get away from the crowds. So here we find him half-way up a hill, talking with his disciples, with a following crowd of extras listening in.

Capernaum is a fishing community, and Jesus’ first disciples were fishermen. The entire local economy was built on fish. The lake was full of good fish, and it was positioned right on a major trade route. Fishing communities stretched right around the shoreline and the fish they caught was shipped out throughout the known world.

Among the fishing families of Capernaum were business-partners Jonah and Zebedee. Their respective sons, Simon Peter and Andrew, and James and John, worked the boats with them, heading out on the water at night, repairing the nets by day. In addition, Jonah and Zebedee employ other men. But this is a family business: their wives and daughters and daughters-in-law would also be involved. The men caught the fish; the women salted them. The fish needed to be dried in the sun, and coated in salt. Over several days, the salt drew out water from the fish, so that bacteria couldn’t grow, couldn’t ruin the product. Salted fish had a long life, up to three or four years if need be. They could be traded and carried long distances. Fish from this lake were considered a delicacy at the finest tables in Rome - an interesting moral question, given that the Romans were the occupying oppressors...

Fish swam in the lake, minding their own business, until they were ripped from their watery world by a fisherman’s net; and then further transformed by the fisher-wife’s salt. Salt was as much a part of these families’ lives as were boats.

So when Jesus addresses fishing folk whom he has recently ripped from their everyday lives to become fishers of men, and adds the further information ‘You are the salt of the earth,’ what would they have understood?

I would suggest this: that the work Jesus has set out on, in which he has called them to take part, is one that will not only change people’s lives forever (the net), but will prepare them to be sent out in every direction in order to nourish others, friend and enemy alike (the salt).

There is no point catching people up in the Kingdom of Heaven unless we also preserve them and send them out. If we merely scoop people up, bring people in, the Minster will become a shed full of rotting fish. The salt of our lives (You are the salt of the earth) needs to be rubbed in to them, to coat them, and to do so over an extended time. That is what it means to make disciples: to give people such access to our lives, every day, that they see the difference following Jesus makes; that their lives are slowly but radically transformed, just as ours have been transformed.

Jesus points out that salt that has lost its saltiness is useless. Indeed, it is worse than that: it jeopardises the entire catch. You can go to all the effort of salting the fish, without the salt having any preservative effect. How might we lose our saltiness? On several occasions Jesus points out a spiritual truth: that whoever tries to hold on to life will lose it, but whoever gives up their life for the sake of the gospel will receive it back, and more. In other words, the way to keep salty is to keep salting fish. Or, the way to see lives transformed is to commit your life to transforming the lives of others.

Who are you spending significant amounts of time with? And, is your conversation seasoned with salt, with the things you are learning from Jesus?

Jesus gives his disciples another everyday illustration. A city on a hill, as visible by night as by day. There is irony here. These fishermen, who have embraced Jesus, live in a city at the bottom of the hill, on the lake shore. Jesus has moved there from Nazareth, a city on a hill, up the hill, where those among whom he had lived most of his life had recently rejected him. Matthew has already told us that Jesus moved to Capernaum in order to fulfil Isaiah’s prophecy of light dawning on those living in darkness. And so Jesus moves in, describing something closer to home.

Jesus says to his disciples, ‘You are the light of the world,’ and conveys what that means by calling to mind a lamp in a house – like salt, a thing of daily use, in this case before the sun rises and after it sets. The sun still exists, of course, but in those times when it is hidden from our view, a lamp gives light to everyone in the house – if it is positioned where all can see its light.

Some years ago I visited Nazareth and Capernaum, and was given a lamp of the kind Jesus describes. The lamp has three components: [1] a fragile pottery vessel with a spout, through which [2] a cord wick is drawn, which must be filled and refilled with [3] olive oil. Archaeological excavations have unearthed countless examples. Jesus’ example calls to mind scriptural images: God as a potter, and men and women as the work of his hands; and olive oil, as a fuel-source, symbolising God’s empowering Spirit in our midst.

As we gather together week by week at the Eucharist, our lamp is cleaned, the wick trimmed or renewed, the oil replenished, and our hearts are set on fire, to God’s glory. But he does not intend to hide us under the basket of this building: no, once lit, we are carried out into the dark places, to bring light. We shine before others, giving light to those in darkness, when we are taken in God’s hands and placed where he chooses. What will take place here this morning will be continued in and through us, across Sunderland and the surrounding region, in the days ahead. Where will you be prominently set? Whose lives will you bring light to?

Again and again in the Gospels we see Jesus take hold of the ordinary things of ordinary life in Ordinary Time, bless them, break them open and give them to us to give to others. In this Ordinary Time, may we discover afresh what it looks like to journey through life with Jesus, and may our ordinary lives take on extraordinary significance.

All Desires Known

BCP Holy Communion: 1 John 3:1-8, and Matthew 24:23-31

Both our readings this morning explore themes of how we are to live as children of God as we wait, in testing times, for Jesus to return. Both our readings recognise the pressure of unfulfilled longing, and the danger of being deceived, of grasping for an apparent fulfilment of our longing that is held out to us but is ultimately false because our longings and our desires are met and fulfilled in the love of God demonstrated to us in Jesus.

Jesus speaks to John and the other disciples, and John writes to those who follow after. Both warn us to expect the life of faith to be hard, and speak to encourage us - to increase our courage - in our struggle.

When we come together, daring to call God ‘Father’ with thankful hearts, to remember how Jesus gave himself for us, and to be made members of his body, we say these words:

‘Almighty God, unto whom all hearts be open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid: Cleanse the thoughts of our hearts by the inspiration of thy Holy Spirit, that we may perfectly love thee, and worthily magnify thy holy Name; through Christ our Lord. Amen.’

In other words, we recognise that we have, hidden within our hearts, great desire; desires that are not acknowledged by those who belong to the world. This is not the evil desires of the flesh, but the deepest heart-longing of the children of God, a desire too deep to be expressed in words. All we can do is present our deepest self to Almighty God. And as we do this, we acknowledge the struggle, the temptation we face again and again to satisfy our desire with bread that does not last. So we ask that the thoughts of our hearts by cleansed, that the paths we follow might lead us home not far from home.

John speaks to our hearts: we are children of God. We are children of God. And when the Son who was revealed in great suffering is revealed in great glory, we who share in his passion will be transformed: we will be like him. Stand firm.

And so we come, again, to remember the one for whom we wait, to remember the story we have been caught up in, to remember ourselves, and - so encouraged - to wait for the completion for which the Son of God was once and will one day be revealed: the final end to all that steals and kills and destroys the desires of our hearts.