Three things I ask
From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul
Three Things I ask: 3rd July 2011: The Very Revd Frank Nelson: Sermon preached by the Dean of Wellington in Christ’s College Chapel to the community of ChristChurch Cathedral
Just over 20 years ago, on Palm Sunday of 1991, I attended the Choral Eucharist in Christchurch Cathedral. It was the first service Christine and I came to in New Zealand. Newly arrived in this country, with our three pre-school children, we had five suitcases and little else, except a somewhat vague plan to build a new life. It was here that we found our first spiritual home, welcomed by the then ‘baby’ Dean John Bluck and a newly ordained Brian Thomas. Like so many people up and down the country Christchurch Cathedral holds an important place in our lives. So it is with very mixed feelings, both pleasure and deep sadness, that I come here tonight. I come bringing you greetings from your sister Cathedral in Wellington, and to assure you of our continued prayers for you as a Cathedral community, and for the city and people of Christchurch as a whole. When I called in briefly on Sunday 6th March I asked Peter what we could do. His reply: “Don’t forget about us.” Peter – you are not forgotten; nor will you be forgotten.
It’s never an easy task to preach as a visitor. In fact, it’s never an easy to ask to preach. I always start by looking at the readings set for the day. The story of a civil war between the rising house of David and that of Saul; the prediction by Jesus of his death in Jerusalem – neither sounded helpful or hopeful. The blind man at Jericho or the delightful story of Zaccheus in his sycamore tree show some promise.
But I want to take a broader approach and suggest that the readings we have heard tonight need to be heard in the overall context of the Gospel story. That story, as you well know, begins long before the events recorded in the four Gospels. It begins with the first conscious response to a God who, for some inexplicable reason, chose to make himself known to a particular people. With many and various threads the story weaves its way through several thousand years, much, but by no means all, of it recorded in the Bible. It is the story of a people at worship, of openness to God and each other, of continuing to learn from the struggles of daily life. It is the story of a people who know what it means to celebrate and enjoy a good party, and who know what crushing disaster is all about. It is the story of a people who, time after time, have picked themselves up and continued to believe, to worship, to care, to reach out.
Perhaps the greatest disaster in the first part of the story of God’s people is that known as the Exile. In 586 BC the Babylonians lost patience and crushed the tiny kingdom of Judah. Overnight the four things that had been held dear, that shaped the life of God’s people, were lost. Their king was killed, their temple destroyed, their city razed to the ground, and their land effectively confiscated as many were carted off into exile in Babylon. In one of the most poignant laments recorded in the Book of Psalms, the people poured out their grief and anguish. “By the rivers of Babylon – there we sat down and wept.” (Psalm 137: 1) It took time, and an important letter from the prophet Jeremiah (Jeremiah 29) urging the exiles to plant gardens, marry local and pray for their captors, but a new way of being God’s people did evolve. Without the focus of the temple synagogues came into being – perhaps what we might call house-churches. Focused on the synagogue life continued, a gathering of the people of faith to worship, to encourage each other, and to educate themselves and their children in the great stories of God’s love held in their corporate memory.
In the second part of the story of God’s people disaster struck almost before the story began. After a very short time the leader, the one referred to as the Messiah, was executed. Two months ago we rehearsed again the story of the betrayal, trial and crucifixion of Jesus. Just a few Sundays ago we read about the extra-ordinary turn-around of those frightened, confused, disillusioned disciples as the Spirit swept down on them at Pentecost. Of course, it never happens quite as quickly as it seems to in the stories, but the people of God re-invented themselves – this time as the Christian Church. They too gathered in varied places, to worship God in a new way based on bread and wine, finding mutual support and encouragement in often difficult times, and telling the stories about Jesus which eventually came to be called the Gospels.
In each case there is an important principal at work. There is a process of re-imagining going on. When all that is familiar and ordinary suddenly disappears, the stories which our grand-mothers told us seem to be make little sense. And then we begin to look at them differently, to re-shape them, bringing in something of the present, and looking for the threads that continue – despite the disruption. So it is with our faith. Whether it be the Exile to Babylon, the Crucifixion on Golgotha, the earthquakes in Christchurch – the need to re-imagine our story is vital. Among the threads that continue to resonate and that need re-imagining is the love of God, so uniquely expressed in the Christmas story. In the words from St John’s Gospel, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son. (John 3: 16) Christianity is based on a God who loves and gives – and goes on loving and giving. Emmanuel – God is with us – needs to be taken seriously. That is what we do every time we gather to worship God – in this Chapel so graciously offered by Christ’s College to the Cathedral community, in the homes, halls and schools where people gather for Eucharist, in the Lady Chapel at Wellington Cathedral where prayers are offered daily for the church and the world.
As Peter knows, for some years I have been intrigued by the spirituality of St Benedict, particularly the emphasis on regular worship, hospitality to all, and an openness through education to the promptings of the Spirit. As an Anglican it often causes pain to see how easily we seem to abandon long-established patterns of life – based on worship, hospitality and education – that have stood the test of time. So it was with delighted surprise that I came across the teaching of Alan Roxburgh and Fred Romanuk in their book “The Missional Leader”. They advocate what to me is a very Anglican approach to spirituality and the mission of the church – one based on the regular worship of God’s people, fostering a sense of welcome and hospitality to all, and the nurturing of an educational environment based on reading and careful reflection on the Bible.
Twenty years ago my family experienced something of the hospitality Christchurch Cathedral is renowned for. A few months ago Peter Beck made a statement of hospitality, welcome and encouragement that continues to echo across the world. Defining the act of God, not in the earthquake, but in the reaching out of people to each other, your words, Peter, have brought hope and purpose to more people than you will ever know. In those few words, you offered a way to re-imagine your story. As a gift from Wellington Cathedral of St Paul, I bring those words back to you tonight – beautifully crafted by calligrapher Alison Furminger, a member of Wellington Cathedral. May they be a small reminder to you all that you are not forgotten, that you are prayed for, and held in the depths of our hearts.
And I bring a personal gift to you all, not my own, but from my wife Christine. Picking up this mantra that I love – worship, hospitality and education – she imagined the church as a tree, with roots deep underground, strong trunk and leaf-filled branches, the sap running strong and bringing renewed life. From that emerged this prayer – Benedictine in ethos, Celtic in style, Trinitarian in theology. I pray it for you now.
Three things I ask, oh Lord; all three I need: Deep roots of stability, to weather and to worship, in quiet and in storm Suppleness of growth, to respond and to react, in welcome and in love Obedience to the driving sap within, to listen and to learn, in challenge and in plenty Three things I ask, oh Trinity.
(Christine Nelson June 2011)
