The Parable of the Showing-Off Lawyer

Sermon for Sunday 14th July, on Luke 10:25-37

Gospel reading:
Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?” He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?” He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead. Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’ Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?” He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

-         If I asked you to illustrate that story, I wonder what scene you would choose to draw? Which scene is the one that you see in your head when someone says the Good Samaritan?

-          The lawyer testing Jesus? The man being beaten up, stripped and robbed? The priest, or levite, passing by on the other side? The Samaritan, washing his wounds? Or taking him to the inn on his own donkey? Or paying the innkeeper to carry on looking after him?

-         A couple of weeks ago I set Noah and Toby making this story in Lego (you can see the results here). They each chose a different scene to build, and got quite into making the details. Noah modeled the traveler being ambushed and beaten up. Toby chose to model the scene in the inn, with the wounded traveler in bed, and the Samaritan paying the innkeeper to look after him.

-         Interestingly, they both omitted entirely in their discussion with me the passing by on the other side, which we often hear and read as the main point of this story. The nasty religious authorities, more concerned with their own safety and purity than with the plight of an injured, or possibly dead, man at the side of the road. And that view of superficially righteous people is a common theme in anti-religious sentiment, its one we recognize from the press, and possibly from our own experience. Some members of many religions do indeed seem more concerned with keeping their faith and their church free from any contamination, than engaging riskily and at a real personal and financial cost with the needs they encounter. That’s why hypocrisy is one of the charges most frequently leveled at the church.

-         But we all know this story so well. We know that as Christians we are meant to see everyone – Muslim or Christian, black or white, etc etc, - as our neighbour. And by and large Christians have indeed taken this story to heart. We don’t need to know someone to feel responsible for helping them. We give to the foodbank, and to Christian Aid. 

-         So I’d like to focus instead on the scene that makes Jesus tell this story. A lawyer is testing Jesus – he wants to see if he will give the right answers, according to the book, on a multiple choice exam in being a good Jewish rabbi. And it was a big book. There weren’t just the Hebrew scriptures to know inside out, but books and books of oral tradition and commentary, learned answers to complicated questions. Being a lawyer then was rather like being a lawyer now – you had to know not just the letter of the law itself, but all the case history and learned opinions.

-         But the big difference was that law was a very major part of religious practice. Law and faith weren’t two different but related things as we now see them – they were very much the same thing. Keeping the law was what it was to be a good Jew, just as it is what it is to be a good Muslim. Christianity is very radically different from this. Christianity is not  and never has been about keeping the law. That is why it was so shocking, and why the scribes, Pharisees and lawyers found Jesus and his followers so scandalous. Even now, it is a shockingly radical approach to religion which some Christians find hard to accept, and try to impose new forms of law – who you can marry, who you can associate with, how much you must give, what sort of language you may and may not use, for example.

-         And yet….when Jesus turns the lawyers question back on him, and asks what he reads in the law, his answer is beautiful. It is aspirational, rather than achievable. It is poetic, rather than legalisitic.

-         He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.” And Jesus said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

-         And then what happens? The lawyer, wanting to justify himself, asks who qualifies as his neighbour. Wanting to justify himself. When I imagine myself in that lawyers shoes, I can imagine him squirming with embarrassment. He has stood up, in front of his peers, perhaps egged on by them – go on, you ask him! – perhaps trying to impress them. He has asked Jesus a killer question. I don’t need to imagine that – it happens all the time at academic conferences. A cocky Phd student stands up to ask the big shot big name speaker a sneaky, clever-clever question, not because he wants to know the answer, but because he wants everyone to applaud his cleverness and audacity. I’m sure you can all think of similar situations from your own working lives or circles of acquaintance – the person who shouts out clever comments during the pub quiz, perhaps; the relation who quizzes you on your latest holiday rather too loudly and always seems to have done something similar but more impressive just last year.

-         So we can imagine this lawyer looking round his friends and peers quite chuffed with himself – come on! Maybe with whatever the first century equivalent of one of those fist pumping or finger-lickin’ gestures.

-         And then Jesus turns the question on him. And he falls silent for a moment. What do you need to do to be saved? And he looks Jesus in the eye for what can only have been a second, but feels like a lifetime. 

-         And past his learning, past his desire to show off, past his professional mastery of the law, his answer, his deepest desire, surges up in his heart:  and before he knows what he is doing, it comes out of his mouth. 

-         “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself”

-         And Jesus holds his gaze a moment longer, and smiles, and nods.

-         And then – just when he is feeling a joy, a hunger, a thirst for holiness, a sense that somehow he has arrived at the place he has long been studying the maps for – 

-         Then. Behind him, someone sniggers. 

-         And he feels embarrassment pour over him, and his face and neck flush hot. What on earth has he just said?

-         And all too human, something I recognize only too well, in his embarrassment and fear that he has revealed something far too personal – he has been caught talking of religion as if he believed it, as if it meant something, he has just been heard by all his professional peers talking poetically of love, for crying out loud! – in his embarrassment, he asks another clever-clever question. ‘And who is my neighbour?’

-         It is his own statement, not Jesus’, that he is arguing with here! He was the one who said ‘love your neighbour as yourself’. And now he feels a fool, and he desperately tries to cover up his embarrassment by pretending his answer was a trap. Ah ha! You just agreed with me: right, can you get out of this one? It’s a classic lawyer technique. It might have worked with his peers. But we all know the story Jesus tells in response. And he tells it without interruptions: we can imagine the little group of lawyers caught up in the story, wondering what the punchline will be. And maybe some of them – they are lawyers after all – trying to second guess the punchline and work out what their next question will be.

-         And we can only imagine the response among the group of lawyers when Jesus tells them ‘Go, and do likewise’, and walks away.

-         Were they all embarrassed? Was there an awkward silence, and then a silent or subdued dispersal? Or did they cover their embarrassment, or their resentment, or the fact that they were moved despite themselves but don’t want to show it, with nervous laughter, or ribald jokes, or rude personal comments about Jesus’ personal hygiene?

-         We don’t know. The gospel moves swiftly on to the next incident, the next town, the next scandalous and outrageous encounter.

-         And we are left, like the lawyers, with a moment where we seemed to glimpse the truth, where our hearts leaped within us, where we longed to love God with all our hearts, soul, strength and mind, and our neighbour as ourselves…

-         …And with the moment after. When the standard set before us seems ridiculously unattainable. When the uncomfortable demands we would have to put on ourselves if we were to take it seriously make us nervously distance ourselves from the story. When we come away from that hot, dusty, rock strewn road, and ask awkward questions about how really, in this day and age, are we meant to help every passing stranger in trouble, and aren’t they likely to be junkies anyway so we might think we are helping but might actually be doing more harm than good, and what are our taxes for?

-         And many of those are good questions. But lets examine ourselves when we ask them, and ask silently, inwardly, honestly – are we asking them partly, at least, because like our lawyer friend we are embarrassed by our emotional response to Jesus, afraid of what our peers might think of us if we take God too seriously, wanting to distance ourselves from the terrifyingly awesome vision of holiness that we sometimes catch a glimpse of? 

-         I don’t think any of us, if we are honest, are actually planning to ‘go and do likewise’ this morning. And we are embarrassed about that. But lets try, try, to think of this not just as the story of the Good Samaritan, but as the story of the pushy and embarrassed lawyer. Because that is our story. And being aware of our own discomfort with the challenge Jesus presents helps keep us honest, and saves us from hypocrisy.

Starting again on women bishops

'So, are you pleased?'

'How are you feeling? happy?'

I lost count of how many times I was asked these questions at General Synod over the last couple of days. How was I feeling after the Church of England voted to restart the process to have women bishops, with a renewed sense of urgency?

'Not displeased' perhaps sums it up best. Certainly not delighted, or ecstatic, as some people seemed to think would be natural! This is only the beginning of another long process - at least two more years. And there is no guarantee it will be successful this time round, though initial indications are hopeful.

The most positive thing I take away from the debate was that nobody spoke against the principle of having women as bishops. That was a huge change from November, when what was meant to be a debate on specific legislation became open season on the ordination of women. Looking back, I think that was the most painful thing about listening to that debate.

But this time, although there were various amendments suggested to the motion to restart the process, all of them were related to the detail of the legislation. Nobody sought to amend, or even spoke against, the first clause, that women should be bishops, and urgently. And a surprisingly large number voted for it. Of course, people sometimes vote things through at an early stage that they intend to vote against at final approval unless they are able to 'improve them' later. But this time, there is surprisingly little room for 'improvements' at a later stage. The contents of the bishops' declaration is yet to be decided, and there is room for negotiation there. But most people voted for simple legislation, and to affirm that they wanted women bishops urgently - even if they would have preferred, and had earlier voted for, one of the amendments that would have altered that package.

It is of course a good thing that Synod has reaffirmed its desire to have women bishops, and as soon as is legislatively possible. And despite the sense of deja vu and weariness that many of us felt listening to the debate, it was more positive in tone than might have been expected. It was certainly more positive than November, but then it could hardly have been worse. There seemed to be a general sense that the facilitated conversations of Saturday had broadly been a good thing, and that the improved tone of debate reflected that.

Indeed, some people were so taken with the revolutionary idea of actually talking with each other that an amendment to ask for facilitated conversations to continue was easily carried. And the Bishop of Willesden made a popular suggestion that the next stage of the process should be conducted in a manner reminiscent of a student balloon debate. It remains to be seen whether the idea of putting a group of people in a room and asking them to come up with a solution works any better this time than last time...

If I understand him right, the idea is that this time, the solution should be unanimously agreed, and the participants should then each be prepared to 'sell' it to their friends and interest groups. I hope to be convinced, but I am rather wary of the continued fairy tale that a perfect solution exists out there and we will find it if we squeeze our eyes tight and wish harder. As Archbishop Justin said, sounding a note of caution in response to the slightly desperate acclamation his facilitation process received, there aren't 'magic processes' any more than there is a magic solution.

The full text of the motion that was passed can be found here, in the official press release.

A good summary of the debate, and a plea for the five principles and their implications to be widely discussed and owned, is on The Bishop of Sheffield's blog.

The Sending of the Seventy (in Lego)

Luke 10 The Sending Out of the Seventy (Lego) from Miranda Threlfall-Holmes

My husband and I put this together for our Junior Church Celebration Service at St Mary Magdalene this Sunday! If anyone else would like to use it, please do feel free.

Atheist Church shows us what we are doing right

The Guardian recently published this article about 'atheist church'. The stated aim of the project is laudable: to help non-believers "live better, help often and wonder more".


 What will help achieve this? According to the Guardian, the founders 'admit they nicked the best components of church, like group singing, interesting talks and community building'.



This is huge! We have got so used in the church to being humble and/or embarrassed about what we offer, that we often forget just how great it can be, and what a unique experience it offers.

Group singing we know people like - any football crowd shows us that. And church is one of the few places other than sports events that people get to do it. This is a large part, I think, of why carol services are so popular.

But 'interesting talks'? We agonise about decreasing attention spans, and here are people saying they think an interesting talk - combined with group singing and a sense of community - is worth getting out of bed on a Sunday morning for, even without believing in God!

OK, it probably helps that this 'church' is run by comedians. Even I, a vicar, can sit still for much more stand up comedy than sermonising. But many of the skills involved are essentially the same, and indeed the best preacher I know also does a great stand up comedy routine!

I suggest everyone interested in church growth reads this article, and that we spend some time thinking about what people who come to church are coming for besides the faith element. And what those who don't come to church value about it when they do come.

We can't make it Christmas every day; but we should be able to manage 'interesting talks'.

Depression: a guest post by Patrick Holroyd

Patrick Holroyd is the Reader at St Mary Magdalene, Belmont.

This is the sermon he preached on Sunday, on the healing if the demon-possessed man from Luke 8. It is so unusual to hear depression and mental illness openly discussed in Church, that several people asked us to make it more widely available.


"I am sure that you will agree with me if I say that of all the components of our bodies, our brains must be THE most wonderful. Within these God created bodies, our brain is the part which is most marvellous. Just think about it. Within our skulls lies a concentrated mass of complex biological circuitry that puts into the shade the greatest programs ever designed by Microsoft and the rest -- all put together.

Our brain is the means by which we exist. Right from conception it controls the way we have developed. It has enables us to grow both physically and spiritually. All our life’s memories are stored there, and there is the capacity to process those memories and the information we are constantly receiving throughout our lives -- to create the people we are. It is there where we connect with the world and where most joyously we come close to God and learn His Will for us.

Yes, our brain is the centre of our existence. Without its continual information processing we would die. Thankfully for the vast majority of us this work carries on unconsciously. But sadly, for some, this does not happen. For various reasons, in some people the circuitry goes awry and they fall ill. I am sure that many of us here today can think of people for whom this has happened, and for whom we are praying for God to be with them. I am particularly thinking of my niece Zoe and her family at the moment. Zoe is subject to fits and doctors are right now undertaking scans, looking at her brain to try to locate the area which is not working properly. We in the family are hoping that this can be found soon and the problem resolved, for life is very hard for her with a young family. But it is one of the miracles of today’s expanding medical knowledge that in most cases we CAN now correct such so called mental illnesses and the patient restored to a normal life. So we live in hope!

But Zoe is only one of thousands of people who have mental problems which affect their lives. Stephen Fry, for instance. This well known entertainer suffers from a severe form of depression so debilitating that he only recently was led to thinking about his future. And then there is Katharine Welby, daughter of our beloved Archbishop. She recently opened up her life to the public and has spoken of the depression which has affected her life.

  Depression IS a severe strain on people’s lives and one which leads to much drastic thinking – even about life itself. But it is NOT an illness which is untreatable. I, myself have felt its effects and can assure you that with the right treatment and support from those around, it can be controlled.

And what does our Gospel reading today, the story of a man whom Jesus cured from such an illness, tell us? Here we have someone whom `Doctor’ Luke tells us was “demon possessed”, a Biblical phrase often used to talk about afflictions of the mind. He had been thrown out of his society – who did not understand his problem – and had resorted to living in caves. So severe was his illness that he had no thought for his looks or his health. He merely existed. But though the man’s society did not understand what was going on, Jesus WAS concerned, not only to comfort him, but also to cure him. Jesus understood, as He understands and sympathizes with all those who are suffering mental problems today. He knew that the darkness of illness COULD BE REMOVED. And so in the story we see Jesus demonstrating the power He has over ALL illnesses by curing the man and symbolically causing a herd of pigs to inherit the illness and throw themselves off a cliff.

Depressive illnesses are one of today’s great medical problems. But the message I want to get over to you today is that while such illnesses are difficult, both for the sufferer and their families, they are something of which Jesus is much aware - and can share in. He has been there and has felt its effects. Think about His time in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before He was crucified. On that night Jesus Himself felt the full darkness of depression fall on Him when, alone with His Father –-- the disciples did not understand and were asleep –-- He felt life was too much to bear and prayed for release from what He knew He had to do. But God did not do that. Instead He gave Him the support which enabled Him to get through the next day.

And it is surely one of the greatest comforts to those who are in dire distress, to know that, just as Jesus was able to ride out the despair of crucifixion as the preparation to the joy of resurrection, so we have the support of Jesus in our times of dark.

And what is more to us here at Belmont, we have in our own Mary Magdalene a potent example of the hope and joy that can come from release from the darkness brought on by illnesses of the mind. Our Patron Saint was herself cured of “seven demons” and received the supreme joy of being able to follow Jesus with lightness of heart and love of spirit. I believe that these “seven demons” of hers were some form of depressive illness, just like the man in our Gospel. And, as with the man in our story, Jesus released her from her troubles and enabled her, as Jesus told the man, to “go into the world to tell what God had done for her”.

And so how can we here in church today help in this work of healing that Jesus has so forcefully shown us this morning? We all know people who are going through hard times as far as their health is concerned. Many try to cope with the dark and lonely times. But all could do with the help of friends – friends who, like Jesus, do not criticize – who do not say “pull yourself together” - for that common reaction of society is the last thing such people want to hear. Such depressed people CANNOT pull themselves together – that is the nature of the illness. No, ill people want to have supporters who will seek them with a smile and with warm words.

Katharine Welby said in a recent interview, “God created everyone. We are all designed in His own image. That is true of a person with Autism, with Cerebral Palsy, or with Bipolar Disorder, just as much as it is with those who are free from any illness. Everyone in the world gives to the world a glimpse of God, the God who created us and gave us such different characters”. May that God give to each of us today the ability to come close to those with mental problems, the opportunity to see God working in those important lives, and to treat everyone as though we were meeting Jesus Himself?                    

 AMEN"

Patrick Holroyd, 23.6.13

Can trust work?

Can trust alone work for the women bishops legislation, as the House of Bishops' 'Option 1' hopes?

I am aware that many are wary of this, because they feel let down in the past, or fear the future. But trust is probably all that is left as a viable way forward, as the Bishop of Willesden argues.

I am an academic by training, and so I naturally prefer to look at evidence not simply emotions when we are making decisions.

And the evidence from this diocese, at least, is that yes, trust can indeed work.

Here is a concrete, current example.

In Durham diocese, one area is currently trying to work out what sort of 'pastoral reorganisation' might best serve the needs of a large group of parishes. The parishes and area dean are exploring options on the departure of one vicar of three parishes, and are considering appointing someone to work also across a wider part of the deanery with a pioneering or experimental brief.

Until recently, three of the churches had resolutions A, B and C. On the departure of their vicar, two of them voted to rescind all three, and the other voted to keep them. One option would of course be for the 'mainstream' parishes to go ahead with an appointment, and for the ABC parish to be served by a series of cover priests (it is unlikely to be viable for even a house for duty post on its own). However, that would risk both isolating them and resulting in a 'doughnut' solution - a group of parishes with a hole in the geographic centre. This is not what any of the parishes concerned want.

So, a couple of weeks ago, the area dean and some of the parish reps met with the Bishop of Beverley (the local ABC bishop) to discuss ways forward. Nothing is on paper yet, but reports of the meeting are that all agreed that it would be best to work together. The suggestion is that a job description be drawn up to cover all the area. In the true spirit of the aspiration to be blind to someone's gender or theological convictions about gender, this would specify that the person appointed might be male or female, resolution or not. A resolution male priest would need to be prepared to work with female priests in neighbouring parishes, and to allow women to celebrate in the non-resolution churches. A non-resolution priest would need to respect the resolution parish, and be prepared to organise suitable priests for their services and cooperate with the Bishop of Beverly.

All parties involved in that discussion are happy with this agreement.  The job ad would spell this out, and the person with the best skill-set for the job would be appointed, regardless of their gender or convictions.

I imagine some women priests, and some ABC priests, might find the conditions of collaboration hard to meet. And a readiness to collaborate will indeed be required. However, since both the Bishop of Beverley and local church leaders think this is workable, this seems a reasonable compromise.

All sides will need to compromise, and there will need to be a large degree of trust on all sides for it to work. That seems to be forthcoming.

I am sure this cannot be the only example of good practice on the ground. Most people in this debate hasten to say that they work well with those of other convictions, and my observations locally suggest this is not often mere empty rhetoric.

So lets avoid panicked glances across the Atlantic, and endless 'what if?' scenarios. The observable evidence, here, is that most people in the church are people of goodwill, and want to make this work.

So lets trust - not each other - but ourselves. We can do this: we are already doing this.

Women Priests: The Next Generation

Yesterday, I came across an article I had nearly forgotten, written nearly 10 years ago by myself and two contemporaries from theological college. We were all contacted by the web editor of Anvil and asked for permission to put this online, so you can read it here:

 'Women Priests: The Next Generation'

As I read it, I was once again back in the JCR at St Johns College Durham, where we had this conversation. I could hear the laughter, feel again the shock of realising at theological college, where we had gone following our vocations, that we weren't universally accepted, remember the steely sense of determination. Now, I mainly feel just tired: just as we knew those who had handed the baton over to us were feeling then.

Our naivety strikes me most strongly. It is rather damning, I think, that the most striking difference between now and then is that it is inconceivable now that three young women could go to theological college and not all be aware of the strength of feeling against women's ordination in some quarters.

I remember being pilloried in New Directions (the magazine of Forward in Faith) once for saying in an interview that I hadn't realised some people still didn't accept women's ordination until I got to theological college. But its true, and it was a widespread experience. Those of us who had our vocations nurtured in our early twenties back then, by definition were in places where women's vocations were accepted and valued. Our wider experience of the rough and tumble of church misogyny and the full range of theological viewpoints (and no, I am not necessarily equating the two: think Venn diagram) came later.

And back then, there was little overlap or encounter between those of different persuasions. It is no secret - it has been openly discussed in New Directions - that the aim of Forward in Faith and the PEVs at that point was an almost entirely separate parallel church organisation.  It is perhaps a good sign that conflict is more open now: it means we are at least speaking to one another honestly.

We were realistic, I think, about the likely timescale of change. I said then that I hoped to see a few women bishops in 20 or 30 years time: that would be 10 or 20 years from now. That is still achievable, and in fact now seems rather a modest aspiration.

But it is worrying how little has changed. Much of this article could have been written last year, not nine years ago.

The issue that because women can't be bishops, they are often passed over for jobs that they are perfect for but which are seen as 'promotion track' (not by us, but by the bishops filling them), has been intractable for much of the past decade. However, there is some good news here. This has suddenly begun to shift in the last year, as the prospect of women bishops seemed imminent.

The fact that so many women (compared to the recent past, not as an overall percentage of posts) have suddenly begun to be appointed as Archdeacons, for example, suggests this analysis was spot on. As the prospect of women bishops comes closer, all women clergy are freed to be considered for the whole range of posts on their own merits. It is no longer seen as a wasting a career development opportunity to give a senior or specialist post to a woman, though other barriers of course remain. This means that women are freer to follow their vocations, which will of course - as for men - only rarely be to the episcopate.

The other thing that it was good to remember on reading this article again, was the sense of communion that we three had despite our very different church backgrounds. This was partly one of the delights of Cranmer Hall as a theological college that didn't require you to self-select by churchmanship on entry: by its very nature, as the only college in the North East, it had a broad entry and cherished this as a gift, as it still does.

But it was quite startling to read myself as saying quite clearly 'I am a Liberal'. In a way, that seems perhaps the most anachronistic line if this were written today. Churchmanship positions have become so entrenched, cultures so oppositional, that it is hard to remember feeling proud and happy to self define as a Liberal.

When did we start to be so afraid of what other church parties would think of us that we started to fudge our identity? When did liberalism become the churchmanship that dare not speak its name?After the Reading debacle perhaps?

Yet in its absence, the balance of theology has been destabilised, and a certain rigour in seeking intellectual clarity has been lost. We could see this clearly in some of the disgracefully theologically incoherent speeches made in November.

In November, I joined Modern Church. It is in some ways a very dated organisation, but liberal theology needs a voice. I will be writing on what modern liberalism is for their journal, Modern Believing (of which I am now on the editorial board), at the beginning of next year. Seeing this piece of history has reminded me of why that is important.