Readings – Hebrews 13:1–8, 15–16; Luke 14:1,7–14
“When you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind.”
On Friday, I accompanied Mike our churchwarden up into the tower, so he could have a look at why our church clock is currently broken and take some photos to send off to the experts. Having arrived here, as many of you will remember, in very strange lockdown circumstances, this was my first trip up the tower. This was therefore the first chance I had to see the wonderful Norman stone-carving in the bell-ringers’ chamber. It is of the same pattern as the stonework behind me in the chancel, but unlike the stonework on this level, it is essentially untouched by later restoration. What is remarkable is that the people who carved it must have known that, six metres or so up in the tower, it would be seen by very few people. Yet that seemed not to matter, as they were doing the work for the glory of God. In a strange way, it seems to be beauty created for its own sake that moves us most deeply; it seems to be the things that nourish us most emotionally do so precisely because they have not been made to be useful.
Restored Stonework on the Norman Pattern in St John’s Chancel
There is, to me, something about the depth of time here in St John’s that puts everything in perspective; the events these stones have witnessed put our present day troubles in their proper context. It is not that we do not face grave problems, but it helps to be reminded that people have always faced grave problems, and people have always, at their best, transcended them. Yet there is something more than that in the air here – it feels like prayer has been soaked into the stones, as if the way people have prayed here and celebrated the Eucharist here over nearly 1,000 years has worn thin the barrier between this world and what lies beyond.
I don’t know about you, but I can hardly bear to listen to the news at the moment. The world faces profound problems, and it feels like our political system has seized up entirely in the face of those problems. It is fairly obvious that there is going to have to be some tremendous re-configuration of our energy supply, and the response from our leaders seems to be to act like a rabbit in the headlights. For example, I have yet to hear any politician levelling with the public about the scale of very disruptive infrastructure work that will be needed, both to deal with climate change and to reduce our vulnerability to the like of Mr Putin. Beyond fears of climate disaster, many of us fear acutely and with good reason that we will be left poverty-stricken over this winter. One feels entirely powerless in the face of it.
Of course, we are not entirely powerless. That’s why we will, during September, have our series of talks in St Mary’s on Thursday evenings – these will be about practical steps we can take in our daily lives to be better stewards of our planet. These generally also save us money! I hope you will join us for at least some of them. We will also have a creation theme to some of our Sunday services.
But the reality is also that much about the state of our world is indeed outside our control. It is very hard for us to admit that in our Western culture which celebrates the power of the individual – sometimes rightly so. But the reality is that living our lives well depends on accepting the things that we cannot change as well as having the courage to change the things we can.
Accepting that there are many things about the world and about our own circumstances that we cannot change can, depending on how we approach it, either be very depressing and disempowering, or it can be liberating, allowing us to lift our eyes beyond the here and now. It can also liberate us to value ourselves for what we are, rather than for what we do and achieve. I think that matters, because our sense of worth is too much rooted in our need to be useful and to be achievers. For example, when I visit those of you who are older, often people often tell me that they feel useless because of their age-related frailties, and that they therefore feel worthless. Similarly, the Church, itself a very old body, too often also tries to justify its existence to wider society on the basis of what it does and how it is useful.
To me, this reflects a failure of nerve – the Church is not, primarily, about being valuable to people because of what it does; of course that is a good thing, but it is looking at things from the wrong perspective. The Church is instead a body of people called by God to follow Him in the person of His Son Jesus Christ, who may lead us in directions that do not seem particularly valuable in the eyes of the world, as he did to his first disciples.
This morning’s Gospel reading inverts the world’s idea of what gives people worth. In it, Jesus calls His followers to invite to dinner not the well-connected or their own best friends, but the poor and the frail.
Bear that point in mind, as we obey Jesus Christ’s command this morning to recreate the last meal He shared on Earth with His closest friends – because you are not invited to share in it as a reward for good behaviour, but because your brother Jesus sees your need to be nourished with His own body and blood. As He commanded us to invite the poor and the weak to our own meals, so He invites you to share in His great banquet this morning not because you are especially holy but because need to be fed by God’s love.
Now, I don’t think any of you would elbow your way to the front of the queue to receive Holy Communion because you thought you were especially holy. Equally, however, do not hold back from the Sacrament because you think you aren’t good enough. Instead come in humbleness – come knowing that God called you not because you are rich, but because, in one way or another, you are poor.
What do we achieve by keeping this great act in Jesus’ name? That’s something we can never measure or quantify. That’s a big part of why it touches us so deeply, like that beautiful stonework hidden up the tower.
The Eucharist is a foretaste of the great heavenly banquet that, in God’s grace and mercy, awaits us… or it should be a foretaste of it. And it is in that spirit that I invite you to receive the Blessed Sacrament this morning.
When you feel the problems of the world and your own failings and worries start to overcome you, when you feel your faults more powerfully than your gifts, come to the great supper of the Lord in expectation of receiving a taste of the transcendent. Allow yourself also to be overcome by the beauty of this building, and to feel the connection it brings us with people across time. For it is when we open ourselves to being touched by eternity, that we are refreshed to best deal with the problems of the mundane world, and our own lives.
And now to God be the glory, the Father the creator of all life, the Son the restorer to new life, the Spirit who breathes in all life, now and forever, as is most justly his due. Amen.
