Sunday, 12 October 2014

Workplace sermon series 4 : Philippians 4:1-9


We are continuing with our series on the workplace. To recap, we are defining work as what we do, as an expression of ourselves, for the common good. That might be paid or voluntary, formal or informal, and it certainly includes the regular activities of the retired. We have taken a look at the common experience of frustration in our work, and experiencing grace in our work. And we have posed the questions in what ways has the work we have done been the place where we have encountered the risen Lord Jesus? and in what ways does our work invite others to consider his call?

This morning, I want to speak about being peace-makers in the places we work; interceding for our co-workers and exercising a ministry of reconciliation between them when people fall out with one another.

Much of the New Testament is a collection of letters, written by people to people. That might sound obvious, but it isn’t. Because ‘we’ as the Church possess the letters, we easily forget that they were not written for us. They are personal. Paul’s letter to the Christians in Philippi is a record of a deep personal relationship, the concern of a very young community of believers for a man who shared their life for a few weeks before he was taken from them, and who they now hear is in prison; and he, in turn, is concerned for them. It is all that remains of a correspondence between friends. And in the course of that correspondence, this little community has shared with Paul their concern for two of their number. Euodia and Syntyche have had a falling out. And it is having an impact on everyone. In part because it puts others in an awkward position: when you don’t want to take sides in your friends’ quarrel, but by not taking her side each accuses you of taking the side of the other. But also out of genuine concern for the cost of the falling out to these two loved friends and co-workers.

Paul’s plea to them, to be reconciled, surely comes from personal experience. You will remember the close friendship and working partnership between Paul and Barnabas, the man who first took a risk on Paul when no one else would trust him. Their shared history was a beautiful thing. But they had fallen out, over John Mark. Mark had accompanied them on their journey, but had abandoned them when the going got tough. Barnabas felt that it was important that Mark be given another chance, but Paul disagreed. Now, let us take a moment to consider what is going on here. Mark would later go on to write the Gospel According to Mark, and according to Church tradition he is the un-named young man who fled naked from the garden when Jesus was arrested. That this is handed down as tradition suggests that it was known among the early Christian community; and that would make his abandoning Paul and Barnabas a second running away. I want to suggest that Barnabas and Paul both had Mark’s best interests at heart: that Barnabas was concerned that if he didn’t get back on the bicycle, so to speak, he’d never risk riding again; whereas Paul was concerned that should he fall off a third time, he’d never get back on. A difference of opinion – and one over which they could not reach agreement, and, apparently fell out. We know that at a later point, Paul and Mark were reconciled; but we have no such assurance that Paul and Barnabas were reconciled, and I think that must have weighed heavy on Paul’s heart.

An un-thought but by no means malicious word from me, that looks like I have exposed your secret insecurity. That thing about you that grates me, because it reflects back to me that thing about myself that I don’t like. It is easy to fall out. In fact, I think it is inevitable. Anyone can do it – even the closest of friends. But it is harder to reconcile – and for that, we need someone to stand with us, to help us, to struggle with us to take hold of the life that has taken hold of us, when death tries to claim us back.

So how might we act as peace-makers between our co-workers? As Paul concludes his letter he writes down his ‘and finally’ – the last words, the if-you-forget-everything-else-I’ve-said-don’t-forget-this words. Finally, beloved. Beloved. See yourself and one another – including that person you have fallen out with – as loved by God. Warts and all, beloved. Take account of whatever is true, honourable, just, pure, pleasing, commendable. If there is anything about that person which is excellent or worthy of praise, take account of that too.

When someone speaks ill of a third party, rather than agreeing, help them to take account of the good things. That isn’t to say that there aren’t things about us that are false or dishonourable or unjust or impure or displeasing or reproachable: there are. And the media trains us to express moral outrage against everyone. But we are called to train our response to be different, by disciplining ourselves to take into account the good.

Yes, Euodia and Syntyche, you have fallen out, and perhaps even with fair cause. But take into account the times you have been there for one another, the things you have gone through together, the love your community has for you both, the concerns of all who know you, the life to which you have been called.

In a world that daily provokes us to put ourselves in the place of the wronged and others in the place of the wrong-doer, being a peace-maker is both simple and hard. It is simple to insist that we look at the good in others. It is simple to call into question the attention-grabbing headlines and political conference sound-bites. And it is hard. Hard to take a stand as peace-maker, when everyone is stirring-up division. And so Paul has some other advice too: celebrate God’s goodness, trust that he is near, pray rather than worry, live guarded by God’s peace. Do it together.

Peace-makers help people to make peace with one another. Peace-makers can also help people to make peace with themselves – something plenty of people struggle with. And peace-makers help people to make peace with God. It may just be that being a peace-maker is the most significant work you can do in the place where you work, the most important focus of your intercession. And so this morning I would like to give to you a bookmark with the words of Philippians 4:8 written on it, to take away, and to place somewhere where you will come across it frequently in the days ahead, as a reminder of those things peace-makers take account of.

Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the peace-makers, for they will be called children of God.’ May it be so of us. Amen.


Sunday, 5 October 2014

Workplace sermon series 3


On Monday evening, a good number of us went out for a meal together to celebrate our patronal festival, the Feast of St Michael and All Angels. We were treated to a lovely meal in a great setting, and we shared with one another the gift of conversation and company, a giving of ourselves. Our bodies were fed, and so were our hearts and minds and souls.

That meal looks somewhat different, these several days later. The potato-peelings and carrot-peelings and cauliflower leaves are, hopefully, rotting in a compost bin. They will become something rich again, but right now they are probably wet with condensation and crawling with slugs breaking them down further. As for the food we ate, our bodies will have extracted the goodness, and whatever was left has long since been flushed down the sewer.

Of course, there was more to the meal than the food. We were nourished by the company. But that night has passed, and we can’t point back to it as evidence of our companionship if we are not to join together at the Lord’s Table afresh today.

Today we heard read to us Paul’s reflections on his background – those things over which he had no say, for we do not get to choose our inheritance – and some of his notable achievements – those things to which he contributed effort and exerted some control, though the possibilities open to him were shaped by his background. Paul describes these things as rubbish, and as what the rather censorial translators have coyly termed loss. The point is not that these things were never of any worth, but rather that these things have been used by God to nourish him, but are not themselves the main thing.

The main thing is the call of Jesus Christ, to become united with him, to grow into what it looks like to have been made his own, to press on into the fullness of what he intends for us, knowing that we have not yet achieved this. For our true self is not located in our family background or in the strength of our Curriculum Vitae, but is hidden in Christ, and is revealed to us and to the watching world by the processes of dying to self and experiencing resurrection.

We are continuing with our sermon series on work [albeit in truncated form this morning, due to it being a service of Baptism as well as the Eucharist], and this morning I want to ask the question: In what ways is our work an invitation to consider the call of Jesus Christ?

In what ways has the work we have done been the place where we have encountered the risen Lord Jesus? Or in what ways does our work invite others to consider his call? Nursing, as both participation in and signpost to his compassion and healing. Law, as both participation in and signpost to his justice. Teaching, as both participation in and signpost to his wisdom. And as we come to baptise Kenaniah, who knows what will be added to his background, as the context within which he will encounter Jesus, and respond?

This morning we will be fed, by word and by sacrament, by the water of baptism and the sharing of the bread and the wine. Immediately after the service, the water in the font will become rubbish, will be poured down the sink: but being baptised into the family of God … that lies open ahead of us, an ongoing going and growing with Jesus. May we keep on pressing on …