Conversion of Paul

Acts 9:1-22

Today we remember the Conversion of Paul, and also celebrate the baptism of Annabelle. And as we hold these two events together, I’d like to draw three things out of the account we have heard read to us from the Acts of the Apostles.

The first thing I want us to take notice of is the way in which the Christian community is described as ‘any who belonged to the Way.’ Jesus described himself as the Way and the Truth and the Life, through whom we come to God, the Father. He made that claim in Jerusalem, at the Passover, on the night before his death; and the image ‘the Way’ would have brought to his disciples’ minds is of following a guide through the narrow- and jam-packed bustling-crowd-filled streets. You have to stay close or you get lost. The way to know God is not through Believing The Right Things (though creeds and statements of faith help us to talk about the God we can know) but through following Jesus, in whom God has revealed himself to us; and through following Jesus in community with others who are seeking to follow Jesus. Paul discovered that on the way – on the Way – to Damascus. On the way, on the journey through life Annabelle is starting out on, we encounter Jesus …

… which brings me to the second thing I want us to take notice of: that Paul – or Saul, as he was known then – had an encounter with the risen Jesus that he was not able to process but which nonetheless changed the course of his life. And that is exactly what is happening today as we baptise Annabelle. She has no conscious thought-processed idea of what is going on, and she will have no conscious memory of this day. But when I speak to her and declare over her the words ‘Christ claims you for his own,’ those words will be stored deep in her soul, and they change her very identity - just as Saul’s identity was changed, from enemy to ambassador. Paul spent the rest of his life reflecting on the event we heard retold today (indeed, it is retold two more times, both in the first person, in Acts). His onward journey held drama and hardship, and other events which he could not understand but in which he again met Jesus and discovered that meeting Jesus was enough. You can read about some of his adventures in the Acts of the Apostles; and some of his reflections on life and faith and Jesus in the letters Paul wrote. We have no way of knowing what the future holds for Annabelle, but she, too, has an adventure ahead of her full of opportunity to explore what today begins.

The third thing I want us to take notice of is that in the act of being united with Jesus in baptism, Paul receives a new family. Ananias – one of the people Saul had come to Damascus to arrest - comes to him and addresses him as ‘Brother Saul.’ And again, this is what will happen to Annabelle today. She is already part of a family along with her parents, Rory and Victoria. But from today she will also be part of a bigger family that includes [name some of the people around the room] and over 2 billion other people around the world. Paul’s letters are full of greetings and references to many friends he made walking the Way together. As well as the facing difficult circumstances, and the wrestling with things too deep to fully understand, we see a lot of love in the pages he wrote. Our prayer for Annabelle, as we welcome her into the Way and as we bear witness to Jesus claiming her for his own, is that she will always find herself among family in this place.

Evensong : Second Sunday of Epiphany

Isaiah 60:9-22 and Hebrews 6:17-7:10

Before we turn to Isaiah, I’d like to thank our new Director of Music, Tom Honeyman, and the Minster choir, and our visiting organist Charles Wooler, for leading us in responding to what God has done for us in and through Jesus. Our hope is that this service of Choral Evensong might be a place where people encounter Jesus and are enabled to respond – to ‘come and see,’ as we were reminded in the Gospel reading this morning. That it will be a place of epiphany, whatever the Season. We look forward to seeing things develop over the coming months, and I would encourage us all to come and see, and invite others to do the same.

In Isaiah chapter 60, there is a vision of a city which includes representatives of the nations coming on camels bearing gold and frankincense. They turn up before the verses we heard read today, but it is for this reason that this chapter is read and meditated on during the Season of Epiphany, when we remember the bringing of gifts to the infant Jesus.

It is a vision of a city made beautiful by the immigration of many different people-groups, bringing their resources, their skill, their particular traditions and solutions and innovations.

Indeed, it is a city rebuilt by a multicultural international community, after it has been deeply damaged and its population displaced as a result of international conflict.

It is a city free from security worries, because former enemies have become friends, and those who refuse to share in this vision of friendship and partnership have perished – not ‘are destroyed by the city’ but self-destruct, fail to reproduce, die out, their own vision of nationhood left abandoned.

It is a city at the heart of a nation surrounded by ally nations.

It is a city built on humbly receiving what others offer – recognising its dependence on others, as dependent as a breast-fed baby – not on arrogantly taking what belongs to others from them.

It is a city of divine light and glory.

It is not any existing city, but a city that could be. Isaiah imagines what Jerusalem, in ruins, could become, rising from the ashes. But it could equally be Paris, or London, or New York, or the cities of northern Nigeria, or northern England.

At the heart of the vision, God says that he will appoint Peace as their overseer and Righteousness as their taskmaster.

Allegorically, the city can refer to Christ (the one to whom representatives of the nations came, bearing gold and frankincense), to the one appointed by God to establish peace and righteousness. He is the Peaceful overseer and Righteous taskmaster, appointed, as the writer to the scattered Hebrews puts it, to the order of Melchizedek, the ‘king of righteousness’ and ‘king of peace.’ He is the Peace-full overseer and Righteous taskmaster, not imposed but given – not imposed but nonetheless appointed – to Jerusalem, and Paris and London and New York and the cities of northern Nigeria and northern England, for he has been revealed to all the peoples. He is the one in whom God and humanity are made one, the one in whom the earthly city and the heavenly city coincide.

Let us, then, reflect on the nature of peace and righteousness. Living in peace doesn’t just happen, it needs to be worked on, needs to be built, painstakingly, with strong foundations, and quality material. Righteousness – living in right relationship with others – doesn’t just happen, but is hard work for which we need direction, and at times arbitration. Jesus does not appear as a man with a message, but as a child who ‘grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favour of God was upon him’ and who ‘increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favour’ (Luke 2:40 and 52).

For peace and righteousness to flourish, I need to make my contribution, and so must you; and we must learn to value one another’s contribution. For peace and righteousness to flourish, my contribution must also be directed, and so must yours. Choral Evensong might just be a living, breathing illustration of this; and, indeed, a rehearsal in which we learn and practice skills that can be called upon in all our dealings with our neighbours.

This isn’t a vision about imposing anything on anyone, but a vision of submitting ourselves, our gifts, how they might be deployed and who we might labour alongside, to the God-supported work of establishing and maintaining and expanding and sharing peace and righteousness.

And although it may sound naïve, it is a vision that has been fulfilled, albeit incompletely and temporarily, many times over, where people of different peoples have come together. In the face of destruction, what we do here, rooted in tradition, is a prophetic act, looking to the future with those who came before us.

So let us pray.