Being Together

 I expect you know that the Gospels were only written down about 50 or 60 years after Jesus’ death. A lot of things happened during those years, of course, and although we know how accurate oral transmission can be, there are a few places where it looks as though an extraneous passage got inserted. I don’t quite mean extraneous, I don’t think – but a passage attributed to Jesus that perhaps wasn’t what he actually said, but what the early Church thought he ought to have said. And part of the passage we heard just now is, I think, one of those passages, mostly because it talks about the Church, a gathering of Christians – and such a thing didn’t exist in Jesus’ day. But whatever, it got into our Bibles, so we need to read it and learn from it.

It does seem, at first reading, extraordinary, though. We know from elsewhere that Jesus tells us never to put limits on our forgiveness. We know we must forgive, or it’s impossible for us to receive God’s forgiveness, we block ourselves off from it.

And we are told never to judge. We’re told to sort out what’s wrong with ourselves first – you remember how Jesus graphically told us to remove the very large log from our own eyes before we could possibly deal with the tiny speck that bothered us in someone else’s.

But we are human. No matter how much we want to love our neighbours as ourselves, it’s difficult. It’s easy enough to love suffering humanity en masse, to send a text to a certain number to give three pounds towards relieving some kind of community suffering somewhere else. It’s easy enough to throw an extra box of tea-bags into the food bank box at Tesco’s, or to donate to the Brixton soup kitchen. It’s even relatively easy to do small things to lower your carbon footprint – to take reusable produce bags to the supermarket, to be scrupulous about recycling, and so on.

Now, don’t get me wrong, all these are good and right and proper things to be doing, and we should probably all do them more than we actually do. But they are all relatively easy – the difficult bit comes when we have to start interacting with other people, and loving them.  “To love the world to me’s no chore. My problem is that lot next door!” That’s when we’re apt to forget to be loving, when we are apt to go our own way, when we’re apt to hurt people, most probably totally unintentionally. The careless word, the accidental insult – or even, sadly, the intentional one.

Now, obviously, if we realise we’ve hurt someone, the thing to do is to apologise at once. Sometimes there are times when we don’t really want to apologise – they started it, it was their fault. Well, even if it is, we are the ones who need to apologise, if only because it makes us bigger than them…. Well, perhaps not for that reason, but you know what I mean.

But what if it is they who hurt you? The human thing to do is to hit out and hurt them back, but we’re not supposed to do that, and with God’s help we won’t. This passage tells us what to do – first, go and explain what has gone wrong, and if they agree and apologise, all is well and no harm done. Then you take a couple of friends along to witness that you had a problem and to try and help you be reconciled, and then, finally, take it to the church. The church, note – not the world! And then, the passage says, if they still won’t listen, let them be to you as a tax gatherer or a gentile. Which, on first reading, sounds as if you should shun them completely, which was how Jewish people of the time behaved towards them.

But Jesus didn’t, did he? Remember the story of Levi, who was a tax collector, and Jesus called him to become one of the disciples. Remember Zaccheus, who resolved to pay back anybody he had cheated after Jesus loved and forgave him and went to eat with him. Remember how many times he talked with, and healed, Gentiles, non-Jews, people who observant Jews would have nothing to do with.

So what is the church to do with those who won’t see that they’ve hurt someone, or if they do see it, don’t care? From Jesus’ example, it looks as though we have to go on loving them, trusting them, and caring for them. Heaven, as one paraphrase puts it, will back us up. Obviously, there are very rare occasions when steps have to be taken, if a child or a vulnerable adult is at risk, for example, but mostly things can be put right without that. And even when steps do have to be taken – and the Methodist church has systems in place to organise such steps, so our safeguarding people know what to do – we still have a duty to love and care for the perpetrator.

Now, the next part of the passage is really not easy to understand. If, says Jesus, or the Church speaking in Jesus’ name, two or three agree on anything in prayer, it will be granted. But we know that, with the best will in the world, this doesn’t always happen. We have all seen times when our prayers, far from being answered, appear to have gone no further than the ceiling. But then again, were we only looking for one answer to our prayer? Were we telling God what to do, as, I don’t know about you, but I find I’m rather apt to. Were we just talking at God, and not trying to listen, trying to be part of what God is doing in the world? All too easily done, I’m afraid.

But the final sentence – ah, now that brings hope. “For where two or three come together in my name, I am there with them.”

You see, in the Jewish faith, you need what’s called a minyan, a minimum of ten people – in many traditions, ten men, not people. If there are only nine of you, you can’t go ahead with the service. But not for we Christians. We know that even if there are only a couple of us, Jesus will be there with us and enabling our worship.

And that, in these strange times, is very comforting. We haven’t been able to meet together for worship for so long – I was supposed to be coming to you on March the 29^th of this year, but of course I couldn’t. Couldn’t have, anyway, as I was ill with this wretched virus and couldn’t even get out of bed at that stage! And now it is September, five months later, and at last I can be with you. But we are still restricted, and if the pandemic gets worse again, we may well be stopped from meeting again for a time. But even if we have to restrict ourselves to our so-called “bubbles”, we know that Jesus will be there with us.

I noticed, didn’t you, how much God was there during the worst of the pandemic. The ministers of the various denominations, and often the congregation, too, worked so very hard to stream services so that we could join in from home. We sometimes watched three services in one day – the one David and his cohorts put on from the Southwark and Deptford circuit, then I very often watched the service my mother’s church put out – especially if my mother or sister were reading the lesson – and a couple of times watched the service from my daughter’s church, as she was terribly clever about mixing the choir’s solo singing so it sounded like the choir, and once one of my grandsons was leading the Lord’s Prayer. And I know there were many, many other services we could have watched – and an awful lot of people did, people who perhaps wouldn’t have dreamt of going to church under normal circumstances.

And there were – and still are – Zoom fellowship meetings, and on other platforms, people have met for worship from many different countries around the world. It is amazing how God has kept his people together in these difficult times. I do wonder, don’t you, what this is saying about being Church, not just in the middle of a pandemic, but going forward. Many churches, I think, will continue to stream their services as a matter of course. Many more will consider having their various committee meetings on Zoom, which, quite apart from anything else, means you don’t have to rush through your supper and have indigestion, and the meetings finish much earlier!

But, and of course there’s a but, because there’s always a but, this is reserved for those who have the technology to join in – not everybody has broadband at home, or unlimited data on their phones. In some countries, even having a phone would be a privilege. We say “This is where God was in the pandemic”, and I think that’s true – but we also have to remember those places where they really did have to rely on just their immediate families for fellowship, as there was no other option. And we know that, even if it was just a husband and wife together, Jesus was there with them. As he is with us now, and will be whenever two or three of us meet in worship. Amen.

Waving or Drowning

Unfortunately the recording stopped half-way through; I have no idea why.  There is, however, an extremely poor video here; I can't hear a word I'm saying, but that might be my headphones....But oh, it was good to be back in the pulpit after so long! 

These are two very familiar stories we've heard read this morning, aren't they?  The story of Joseph and his – I was going to say his technicolour dreamcoat, but that's Andrew Lloyd Webber, not the Bible!  And the story of Jesus walking on the water, which is the one episode that people who know nothing of Jesus seem to know about.

That story is particularly familiar to those of us who’ve been part of the Zoom worship, since we did a meditation on it the other week.

So anyway, Joseph.  Talk about dysfunctional families – his was the very worst.  His father, Jacob, had been a liar and a cheat, as had his maternal grandfather.  And Joseph himself was the spoilt favourite –his father had two wives, you may remember, Rachel, whom he loved, and Leah, whom he didn't but was tricked into marrying anyway.  He also had a couple of kids by Leah's and Rachel's maids, Bilhah and Zilpah, but Rachel, the beloved wife, had had trouble conceiving, so Joseph and his full brother Benjamin were very precious, especially as Rachel had died having Benjamin.

He, it seems, was still too young to take much part in the story at this stage, but Joseph was well old enough to help his brothers – and, we are told, to spy on them and sneak on them to his father.  And stupid enough to boast of self-important dreams.

It's not too surprising that his brothers hated him, is it?  Obviously, he didn't deserve to be killed, but human nature is what it is, and the brothers were a long way from home and saw an opportunity to be rid of him.  At least Reuben, and later Judah, didn't go along with having him killed, although they did sell him to the Ishmaelites who were coming along.

Joseph has a lot of growing up to do, and we all know the story of what happened and how, in the end, he was able to forgive his brothers and help save them from famine.

Let's leave him for the minute, though, and go on to this story of Jesus walking on the water.

This is the thing that everybody knows about Jesus, that he walked on water, and even those who don't realise that the Jesus who walked on water is the same Jesus whose birth is celebrated at Christmas know “walking on water” as some kind of metaphor for the divine.

But there's more to the story than that, just as there is more to Jesus than someone walking on water!  Jesus didn't go much for spectacular displays of his divine power – that wasn't what he was about at all.In fact, you may remember that he refused to be tempted in that way when he was being tempted in the wilderness.  He mostly kept who he was to himself, until the right time came.

And now it was the right time to join the disciples.

If you were here last week, you may remember that he had just heard of his cousin John’s death, but any attempt to get away for a bit to come to terms with it was foiled by the crowds, who came after him.  And he had compassion on them, we are told, and healed their sick, and then fed them with what looked like no more than a small boy’s packed lunch.

But he really did both need and want some time alone with God.  He had told his disciples to go on ahead while he stayed behind to pray, and at some time in the wee small hours he was ready to join them.  They should have been at the far side of the lake by now, but they were up against a contrary wind.  I've never been to the Sea of Galilee, but I'm told by those who have that the storms can blow up very suddenly, and the disciples, although experienced fishermen, were struggling slightly.

And then, here is Jesus, walking towards them on the water.  Most of them are terrified, except for Peter, who says, “Lord, if that's really you, order me to come out on the water to you!”

And Jesus tells him to come, and he comes, and then he finds he really is walking on the water, and panics.  Peter is a strong swimmer, he didn't really need to panic, but in the dark and the cold and the confusion.... well, Jesus grabs him and they get into the boat – and then suddenly it's calm and quiet.

Now, I don't know any more than you do whether this is a true story or not.  It almost sounds as though it was a dream; or perhaps it was a legend that got into the story of Jesus at an early stage.  Or perhaps it really did happen.  At this distance, it doesn't matter; what does matter is that the story got into our Bibles, and so God means us to learn from it!

But what?  What can we learn from either this story or the story of Joseph?  What is God saying to us in the middle of this pandemic, when our worship is not what we are used to, when we are a little unsure about even meeting together for worship in the first place?

Joseph must have wondered where God was in all this.  His life had been turned upside down in a matter of moments, from being the favoured, and favourite son, to being a slave.  He must have wondered where God was.

And similarly, Peter.  Peter is the one who wobbles between enormous faith – “Lord, tell me to come to you across the water!”– and then doubt and panic.  We know he is prone to panic – look how he denies Jesus at the end.  And he, too, must have sometimes wondered where God was, whether it was all a nonsense….

But we have seen God in this pandemic, you know.  We have seen how people who wouldn’t dream of going to church have been watching streamed services.  We have seen how some churches have picked up multinational congregations, almost, it seems, without trying.  Even at our own Zoom service, the other week,  R and I were in the Alps,and then there was a friend of G’s from New York and H and Y in Ghana…. And we were one, together, in worship.

We have seen, too, how people have scrambled to learn how to use modern social media to stay in touch, to worship together.  Think of the hundreds of thousands of ordinary clergy who have made a huge effort – and many are still making it – to get a worship service on YouTube each week, or even more often, for their own congregations and others.  And the many ordinary people who have learnt to record themselves leading prayer or reading Scripture, ideally without getting the giggles – my mother, who was one of them, said that was the most difficult part.

Oh yes, God has been there, and God has been doing extraordinary things with His Church.

Thinking about it, it’s not really a question of “Where is God in all this”?  We have seen God’s hand at work in so many different ways during this pandemic.  We have learnt that there are many different ways of being Church, not just gathering on Sundays, although that, too….

So the big question is, what next?  The pandemic is very far from over, and we may be closed down again at any time.  I know Kristin has been talking of restarting our Zoom worship meetings in September for the sake of those who still don’t feel able to come to Church.

I don’t know what the answer is.  I don’t know what God has planned for us in either the immediate or the long-term future.

But I do know that we need to be available for him to work through us.  Most of us, perhaps all of us, are available to him, of course, whether it’s about ringing up friends who still aren’t comfortable going out, or getting shopping for people, or sitting with those who have been bereaved, or those who have worked so hard to get the church as safe as it possibly can be for public worship.  But the thing is, whatever the future holds, we need to be allowing God to transform us even more fully into the people we were designed to be.

God couldn't use either Joseph or Peter as they were.  Joseph had to grow up and stop being an immature brat. As you probably remember, we're told that he was accused of rape and left to languish in prison for several years, during which time he did grow up, and became an invaluable administratorand was thus able to help organise famine relief when it became clear that there was to be a massive famine.  He matured enough to forgive his family, and to help them all settle in Egypt where, for several generations, they were happy and comfortable.

And God couldn't really use Peter the way he was, either.  Peter was transformed, of course by the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  Not that he would claim to be perfect, even then, but he became someone God could use.

I'm not sure how much, if anything, Joseph knew of God, other than as the sender of dreams.  His transformation was a slow and painful process.  Ours may be, too – but I'm sure of one thing, and that is that the more we are open to God, the more we commit ourselves to being God's person, the more honest we can be with ourselves and with God about how chaotic our lives are and how badly we get things wrong, then the easier it is for God to transform us.

And it’s not just during a crisis like this one. Remember the old saying:

“God and the Doctor we alike adore
But only when in danger, not before;
The danger o'er, both are alike requited,
God is forgotten, and the Doctor slighted.”

We don’t want to be among those who have called on God in this crisis and then go and forget Him as soon as it’s over.  Not that I think any of us would do that – but maybe some of those who are just learning to value worship services, just learning to pray, might need our help to remain God’s people once life gets back to whatever passes for normal.

Of course, we don't have to wait for that transformation to have fully happened before God can use us!  We can still be used, ready or not.   And God does use us, sometimes, often even, without our knowledge.  But never, I think, without our consent.

Amen.