Christ Church

“That your love may abound yet more and more”

Abundant love. Super-abundant love. The love which cannot be numbered. The love which cannot be constrained. It is a beautiful concept. How is it to be realised in us? In a way, that is the great question of the Trinity season. How are the living words of Christ to be made alive in us? How will we act out of what we have heard and seen? Will we? The point is that we hear and see things that require a response in us.

The Gospels often provide us with powerful illustrations about our human failings, on the one hand, and God’s redeeming grace at work in us, on the other hand. The Gospel for the 22^nd Sunday after Trinity is one such example. It begins with a question from Peter to Jesus about how often do you forgive the one who has sinned against you. Is there a set number? Can forgiveness be limited to an algorithm, to a mathematical formula? Everything else is in our world and day, it seems. We are quite content to let the algorithms of Googledom send us birthday greetings and tempt us with endless advertisements programmed to our supposed interests, not to mention letting the entire stock market be run by algorithms. So why not forgiveness? Why not seven times?

Jesus’ response is about abundant love. “I say not unto thee, until seven times; but until seventy times seven.” Literally? Four hundred and ninety times? And, then, at the four hundred and ninety-first time, what? Forget it, your allotment of forgiveness is up? Tough luck, buddy. It is, of course, a deliberate exaggeration. Who, after all, is going to keep track of such a number? Why, you would need some sort of algorithm just to do the numbering! But that misses the entire point. Forgiveness is not something that can be quantified. To think that it can misses the whole meaning of forgiveness. Ultimately it is something from God that is meant to live and move in us, if we will let it.

There is the crux of the matter brought out in the parable which Jesus tells to illustrate the point about the immeasurable nature of forgiveness. It is the parable of the unforgiving servant who having been forgiven a great debt of “ten thousand talents”, a huge sum, turns around and refuses to forgive a lesser servant a far, far, smaller debt owed to him, a mere “hundred pence”. It is a brilliantly clear example of someone being forgiven who does not forgive in turn; the complete opposite of the petition in the Lord’s Prayer. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us.”

(more…)

Print this entry

“Then opened he their understanding,
that they might understand the Scriptures”

The Collect for the Feast of St. Luke identifies him as an Evangelist and a Physician of the soul. Paul’s Epistle from 2^nd Timothy says that only Luke is with me but also refers to “books” and “parchments”, two forms of written media through which ideas are conveyed, namely, the codex and the scroll. The Gospel from the last chapter of Luke’s Gospel reminds us of Luke’s interest and focus on Christ’s opening out to us the Scriptures for our understanding. It is a theme which is especially prominent in the season of the Passion and the Resurrection of Christ and in the readings from Luke in those seasons.

The image of Luke as a Physician of the soul is most apt. For most of the long Trinity Season, Luke is we might say the Church’s spiritual director and there is an intriguing and important feature to Luke’s writings, both his Gospel and the Book of the Acts of the Apostles attributed to him. That feature is wonderfully captured in the epithet which Dante uses for St. Luke, calling him appropriately enough, “scriba mansuetudinis Christi”, ‘the scribe of the gentleness of Christ’. It is I think an important insight into the character of his writing.

There is a quality of gentleness to the way in which Luke pictures Christ in his encounters with our humanity. It is not by accident that Luke is both the patron saint of doctors and artists, particularly painters. No one provides more compelling and vivid pictures of the Passion than St. Luke. Think of the power of his depiction of the Agony in Gethsemane and the way in which Luke reveals to us something of the inner turmoil and conflict in the soul of Christ, “on the night in which he was betrayed”. And, perhaps, even more there is the powerful scene of Peter’s betrayal. In Luke’s vivid account, “the Lord turned and looked upon Peter”. That look was enough to remind him of what Jesus had said about Peter denying Jesus three times. “And Peter went out, and wept bitterly.” It is a masterful and powerful moment, a picture of firm gentleness. Sometimes a look is more effective that spoken words. But what kind of look? A look of gentle compassion and understanding for the human condition, for the individual. A look that recalls us to truth, even through our tears.

(more…)

Print this entry

“And the man believed the word that Jesus had spoken”

“Faith cometh by hearing”, Paul famously tells us, adding “and hearing by the Word of God”. It is a challenging and important concept especially in our rather visually fixated age where so much emphasis is placed on images seen on screens, on what is curiously called ‘virtual reality’ which already suggests something not entirely real, something not fully actual. It is commonly said that ‘seeing is believing’ and yet we are only too aware of the ambiguities and the distortions about what is claimed for as being seen. Is it actual or merely a simulacrum of reality; indeed, something merely photo-shopped?

But then isn’t there a similar ambiguity and uncertainty about what is said and heard? Especially in the current culture where truth seems to have flown completely away, at least if the American presidential election campaigns are anything to go by. We confront a world, it seems, where fear and negativity and lies that are known as lies triumph over truth and honour, over considered belief and honesty, what Rex Murphy has called, with due apologies to Tom Wolfe, “the bonfire of the inanities”. But the world wants, it seems, something good to come out of America. Perhaps that explains the awarding of the Nobel prize for literature to Bob Dylan, one last paean of praise to the sixties and its siren calls to a kind of peace and truth, to a kind of innocence in contrast to hypocrisy and deceit, for “Where preachers preach of evil fates/Teachers teach that knowledge waits/Can lead to hundred-dollar plates/Goodness hides behind its gates/But even the president of this United States/Sometimes must have to stand naked.” Not exactly a pleasing mental image in the current situation, to be sure. Yet the idea that “Goodness hides behind its gates” is a powerful thought and, perhaps, just perhaps, it is in the context of that awareness that this gospel can begin to speak to us.

It is really a question about the resonance of God’s word in us, about our being alive to truth over and against the lies and the deceits of our own hearts. Here in this powerful gospel story what is heard and seen stands in stark contrast to what is wanted, even demanded and required to be seen. Jesus addresses this directly. “Except ye see signs and wonders, ye will not believe”. He speaks, it seems to me, to an almost universal feature of our humanity – the desire for signs and wonders. Jesus names our expectation and its consequence – our unbelief. For where God is wanted to be tangibly present – immediately there for us, subject to us, as it were – faith has no meaning. The Word has, literally, no resonance in us.

(more…)

Print this entry