The Woman at the Well

Sermon by the Revd David Moore

23 March 2014

Exodus 17:1–17 and  John 4:5–42

To all intents and purposes the lectionary reading could be just another of the stories which we hear read week after week after week. And whatever I might say, to me or to you, it is likely to go in one ear and not long later emerge out of the other. This is just the way things are!

But every now and again, at least for me, there are moments when some kind of fusion occurs and I am forced to sit bolt upright - for me a moment of memorable intensity.

As a teenager it was a Marilyn Monroe film that was one such moment… and a memory has been maintained for over sixty years! At that time there was also for me a text from John’s Gospel: ‘You did not choose me, but I choose you’, which shook me to my very core and propelled me onto a completely unexpected journey. A journey which has continued with the varying degrees intensity as a Marilyn Monroe moment and has also lasted sixty years!

Why am I telling you this? Well, today the lectionary reading, to my mind, has a certain ‘atomic’ quality. Suddenly I find myself faced with more than I bargained for. A quick recap:

Jesus is alone by the village well, it is middle of the day (hot); a women comes to draw water. ‘Give me a drink’; ‘What, you, a Jew, I asking me, a Samaritan’

There are so many leads into this passage, so let’s cut straight to the chase! This passage is dripping with the burning issues of our day: Boundaries, Territory and Identity. Crimea/Russia on the one hand, Scottish Devolution on the other, and for some members of this church ‘permission to reside in the UK and to work’.

This video clip shows boundary changes in “Greater Europe over the 5000yrs. Massive changes almost everywhere, but far less in the British Isles – because we live on an Island.

A close friend was recently awarded a PhD for his work on Limology (hands up those who know the meaning of limology? [on the day, only one person!]. Limology is the study of boundaries. He examined the history of the changing boundary between Mexico and USA and he did so primarily by studying Westerns - yes, cowboy films! That one boundary has countless cases of ‘land-grabbing’. Mr Putin is but the most recent example.

Many years ago I was caught up in a complex pastoral situation relating to a 14 year old attempting to get into the UK to see his estranged father. He had been sent by his mother to get him out of the country during a Parliamentary Election Campaign where she was a candidate! The estranged father only knew the boy was on route after the plane left Australia. ‘It was clearly a situation filled with bear traps’!

The insensitivity and heavy handedness of the Border Agency staff resulted in me spending many hours at Heathrow during which I somehow ended up the wrong side of customs – without my passport. To all intents and purposes I was powerless – in no mans land – and the repeated questions which I answered again and again, did nothing at all to humour me! Not only did I feel vulnerable and I soon discovered I was in a minority. I was the only white person there, except for the immigration officers. It was a place in which it seemed as if human value and all compassion no longer existed.

Finding myself on the wrong side of the boundary was an acutely difficult situation, but it was not completely new to me, in that I had appeared in court on behalf of homeless men and women time without number, and once had been the only person to speak for a person at a Crown Court. The man was given a conditional discharge (to live at the project the church ran). And once we had to wait almost two hours, in an unlocked cell waiting for his possessions: three pence, for which he had to sign.

Nationality, identity and boundaries are enduring points of friction primarily for the unrepresented and vulnerable. Representing/standing with outsiders can be a chilling and indeed frightening experience.

Jesus in choosing to speak with the woman at the well, not only chooses to side step traditional protocols but to face the woman as she was. By sidestepping tradition Jesus allows other truths to emerge - she had had countless partners - but he offers the possibility of acceptance. A recognition at a deeper level – “Water of Life”, he calls it. He speaks of that which really does quench that particular thirst: of not being accepted; of not being good enough; of not being the right age or gender, or nationality, or not having the right qualifications, or papers.

Whoever drinks the water I give, says Jesus, will never be thirsty again.

Sadly the bloodthirstiness we see around the globe is not only in land grabbing, but in the denial for women to be freed from fear and abuse; for gay and lesbian people not being bound by the bigotry of others; or indeed young girls being free of the threat FMG.

However, heinous things continue to occur in what is considered modern, civilised, Western-type countries. Aboriginal babies, especially those of mixed parentage, continue to taken from their families by Australian officialdom. In 2008 Kevin Rudd, the Prime Minister publicly apologised to the Aboriginal People but the underlying issues remain - he was soon out of office and it was business as usual.

My Big Question for today is how do we learn to ease ourselves from the straightjackets which trap us into assuming what we know and accept is bound to be correct. How is it that we get such fixed and final and divergent ideas about other people’s value and worth?

Another of my closest friend believes to his very bone marrow that the word ‘marriage‘ must be reserved exclusively for the contract between a man and a women. He has no room for change! The fact that same-sex marriages are now legal and the first will occur next Saturday makes no difference to him. As you may guess, I do not agree with him.

We are all, of course, as much a part of the problem as we are the answer. The privatisation of faith, of believing faithfulness is exclusively about personal development/salvation, is perhaps the greatest sin of the church today. (Look at the bookshop here at Cornerstone. primarily stocked with what I would name as ‘cosmetic literature’ - aimed at cheering us up, not transforming/overcoming the deep persisting hurts in society.)

This church of Christ the Cornerstone was erected to be a dynamic symbol that faith can lead to deep and enduring change; that we no longer need to be ‘prisoners’ to Methodism, or Anglicanism or Catholicism, or Luther or the Reformers. That I can be thoroughly Methodist and MUCH MORE.

Being ecumenical is to be serious about each other and choosing ways of standing in other people shoes; being ecumenical is developing the skills, the working practice, the know-how, of ‘knitting’ together the fabrics of daily life into the image of a world resembling that of the Cross Bearing and Servanthood of Christ. And that may NOT always be a pretty picture.

I do not doubt that many of the celebrating Russians in the Crimea are in the main as decent people as are we, people who feel they have returned to their roots, to their home-land; whereas the non Russians speakers differ completely in their longings.

Crossing boundaries, experiencing change, ceasing to believe that nothing really changes; being open to facing and speaking gently to those who are different or who offend you, is exactly what Jesus is doing in asking for a drink of water - it is code for saying ’we are both human’

A great sadness for me - as a member of this congregation - is that in the ongoing rush of life we do not/cannot make the time or the space for the softer or silent voices amongst us to be heard. The greatest treasure of this community is the stories we carry - we All carry them, your insignificance maybe anthers enlightenment/wonder/salvation.

As a 12 year old boy living in Cirencester in the Cotswolds in the 1950s, with three friends I would cycle for miles during the school holidays. How we never got lost was a miracle in itself! Toward the end of one very long afternoon ride, the four of us were dying for a drink. I was the one to knock on a cottage door and ask for a drink - I was the smallest! But first, rub your face with your hankie, plaster down your hair, pull up your socks and don’t forget to smile. Nervously I knock the door it is opened by a woman the age of our grandparents - I ask for a drink of water, wonder of wonders, we were invited in! - lemonade and cakes. Amazing, wonderful. We probably made her day as she ours!

Another moment of memorable intensity! (I do prefer secular English to describe my deepest experiences.)

So 64 years on that moment of memorisable intensity retains its power and reminds me, as nothing else does that the Eucharist is sharing joy. Give me a drink says Jesus!

We can keep that story going by crossing boundaries, by opening up opportunities. It is a reminder that our shared meals can be a way crossing boundaries and opening up the treasure houses of family and community history safely.

And all because he asked a stranger to share her water!

Pentecost 2013

19 May 2013

The Reverend David Moore

Acts 2.1-21 and John 14.8-17

Prayer for the Week:

God of fire

you flow through our history

leaping from one generation to another;

releasing captives, affirming the poor,

welcoming outcasts,

inspiring visionaries.

You speak with the accents of all people.

We acknowledge our selective hearing.

As a child I grew up with a mild form of epilepsy and a significant speech disorder. I stuttered and stammered and, as a consequence, spoke extremely rapidly in an attempt not to stutter. This was self-defeating in that I then added spluttering to my stuttering! You might say ‘a vicious circle’.

At that time forming relationships with girls was more than a bit tricky! Fortunately somebody had spotted me long before I noticed her! When in due course I ‘got the message’ the welcome mat was already in place! When I first walked Dorothy home and met her mother .... well ... as soon as I had left, her mother would say to Dorothy “what did he say?”

But there is more ... once a year the young people from the Church Youth Club which I attended would conduct an evening service for a congregation of up to 250 people. The Minister would plan the service and Club members would share in the announcing, praying and the preaching. The sermon was made up of three five-minute slots. The Youth Leader and Minister sorted out who did what.

I was 17 and I knew that I wanted to take part. I attended the planning meeting. The Youth Club leader began by saying “Well David, it is no good asking you to say anything, nobody will understand you, you can help with the collection.” It was like a knife through my heart! All the jobs were allocated and we left. Do you know the cartoon character who has a permanent cloud over his head? Well that was me!

Fortunately not all history is in continuous, non-reversible straight lines! On this occasion the person chosen to do the final part of the sermon was taken ill a few days before the event and I immediately volunteered to deputise. There were no other volunteers - I saw to that - so the job was mine.

So, it was with fear and trembling I climbed the pulpit steps. Sixty years on I can recall the emotion, the steps beneath my feet, the feel of the white painted handrail. I took a deep breath - bit hard on the end of my tongue to moisturise my mouth and did it - without one verbal glitch. My mother’s eyes were almost popping out of her head with pride. I was completely exhausted! And so it was that I started preaching. In the pulpit I was fine, out of the pulpit I was still rubbish!

At first I imagined the ‘freedom of the pulpit’ was the result of some sort of direct line from God, a divine version of a fairy’s wand, which somehow supported and enabled me to preach without stammering .... BUT much, much later I learned something even more wonderful - that standing up before people and preaching involves a different area of brain activity to that of everyday conversation. So what might that mean for my religious view of God?

Looking back to that first pulpit ‘event’ I do not think in terms of God’s ‘finger‘ directly energising me, but rather I considerate it in terms of recognising the ‘Ancient of Days’ - that which breathed shape into all life, including human DNA.

Suddenly I am engaged, not with a capricious God who may or may not choose to act/help but rather I am tied into all human history .... so that now wherever you or I may come from, at the most profound level - at the level of deepest personal identity - we are all one. ‘One’ not as sinners but as human beings - marked with genetic code.

And this, to my mind, may be what occurred on the Day of Pentecost - disparate people finding a common identity, an identity way beyond any of their wildest imaginings or hoping. When strangers meet and converse - whatever their native tongue - there is always the potential for a ‘homecoming’, for discovery, for recognition, for mutuality, for new forms of collective wonder, a new spin on human history - the future can be opened up. So, my desire to remain in the European Union is total and is theological - I seek to affirm the deepest aspect of who we all are.

The Pentecost power I speak of is not the power that makes war and spills blood - just the opposite - it is the power to find common cause with strangers and enemies; the forming of unfamiliar friendships, discovering the new harmonic of ecumenism and internationalism.

Some of you will have heard me speak before about the remarkable man Archbishop Helder Camara - his Diocese was in the poor City of Recife in Northern Brazil. Camara was a constant thorn in the flesh of the Pope, the Cardinals, but mostly to the Brazilian Generals who ran the Junta for 23 years.

Last week a friend, Roger Williamson, wrote me a note about the day he met Dom Helder Camara .... it was a note scribbled while curating an exhibition in Brighton. (Any passing visitor to that exhibition would have no idea of the profundity being penned in public).

Roger, now retired, spent all his working life with International Peace and World Development agencies. This is what he wrote in his note to me:

“I met him (Helder Camara) in 1986 and particularly wanted to talk to him about the death of his assistant, who had been killed, not least as a warning to Camara. I said that the story of the young man’s funeral was very moving. In the middle of the service Dom Helder went across and embraced the man’s mother - he said “It was a perfectly natural thing to do.” Yes, perfectly natural, but not very Bishop-y”

I asked him if he felt guilty because of the young assistant’s death. He said “No, he made his choice, he knew what he was doing, “I said “Yes, but he was killed partly to warn you.” His reply was ”He committed his life to the poor and there is no better way to die than in the service of the poor.”

I am sure that you, like Roger, will find these words incredibly moving - might they not offer us a real, honest, way into the Pentecost narrative? How different nationalities, different cultures, different interests, can find common cause, form new common identity. But to form a common identity means we must all also let go of something, misconceptions, false assumptions, self-interest?

The faith stories, as handed down to us, come as jewels, puzzles, conundrums, invitations - as life stories. The trouble with using stories like that of Helder Camara is that, for me, it inevitably puts me on a collision course with the dominant motifs of our contemporary political life - values which do not encourage me to embrace and cherish the poor, or to dream of building a common wealth, of discovering ways of holding our greatest ‘treasures’ in common.

If nothing else, the multinationalism of the Day of Pentecost raises questions as to how we treat the ‘outsiders’ in our midst. There are members of this congregation who had no option but to flee their homelands; this congregation has members from diverse Christian traditions and ambitions. But we are all here together - either we engage or we bypass each other. If we fail to grasp the fundamental undercurrents of our life together, I fear we will have lost or squandered the pearl of great price - that which should be cherished above all else.

Pentecost 2013 - the scribbled note from Roger reminded me afresh that choosing to prioritise the poor is not a priority for the majority of our parliamentarians. Do we raise our voice or do we remain silent?

Maybe it was the fact of being ‘beyond the pale’, of not being the ‘main act in town’ in terms of the political establishment, that was the very thing that gave Pentecost such a memorable OUTCOME.

Some time later today find ten minutes to get out your Bible and read the concluding four verses of Acts Chapter 2 - the emergence of Fresh Expressions - not only prayers and songs - but practical sharing. The Pentecostal imperative, it would appear, requires economic change - a strategy of sharing. Now there’s a thing!

Easter intercessions

Intercessions 14 April 2013

Led by the Reverend David Moore

On this second Sunday after Easter I remind you that women were prime candidates to be the first Apostles - they were first to see the Risen Christ - but the world at the time was not ready for them!

May I also remind you that our preacher today, Wendy Carey, was the first woman local to Milton Kerynes to be ordained in the Oxford Diocese.

Let us pray:

Mysterious God, hidden in creation and revealed in Jesus, we have waited patiently and earnestly for the Easter Season - the days when we approach again the open grave and discover for ourselves, not that it is empty, but that Christ is risen.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, glory

Jesus the Christ, as we focus on Mary Magdalene the first person to know that you were alive, and even though the words ‘Christ is Risen’ is like honey upon our lips, we also carry with us the shame and regret that Mary herself become a byword for sentimentality and immorality and that her degrading continues to shadow our faith community.

We ask you, the Risen One, to burst open the graves within us this day, so that as women and men together, we may honor you by truly honoring each other.

Help each of us to grow, free us from all that holds us back, egg us on with renewed supplies of courage, humility, ingenuity and grace.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, Glory

Risen Christ open the graves which exist within our own community at Cornerstone, free us from all that constricts, that the ecumenical flame may burn with renewed freedom, disposing of self interest - increasing diversity and delight. May this Church be a place of discovery, gladness and welcome for all people.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, Glory

Open the graves which exist within our world, that we may harness and express the grandeur and intensity of your purpose for all people.

At this great Season of Liberation, it is in sadness and shame we whisper our prayers for Syria, for Palestine, the people of Iraq, Afghanistan, remembering also those in poverty, hunger, caught up in warfare, the shame of the arms-trade, debt, bankruptcy, repossession. We know deep in our heart that our levels of comfort and reward feed off the injustices which others suffer.

Risen Christ as you hear the echo of our voice in your empty tomb, remind us again that you are not there but alive and active in the world.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, Glory

Most earnestly we pray you to fill in the graves we currently dig for future generations - through our senseless and willful misuse of the planet.

May the Christ, the one who rises, rise among us and within us, so that as individuals and as a community, we may discover both hope and actions to contribute to the future, that we will learn to live sustainable lives of imagination and joy.

We give thanks for the dogged persistence of Friends of the Earth, the Soil Association and the great tapestry of ‘green’ campaigners. Keep us faithful in small things but persistently hungry and willing to do more.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, Glory

For the sick within our community at Cornerstone; for all of those whose life and well-being weighs heavy upon our hearts; we remember the trauma at the City Counseling Centre and the distress within the Bereavement Counseling Service.

Risen Christ you greeted the grief-stricken Mary and turned her life around; affirming her as the tower of strength she already was, be with all those in need a Tower of Strength at this time, especially we remember all those who will bury their dead this week.

We believe. Glory, glory
Christ is Risen.
Glory, Glory, Glory

Amen

Where’s Gamaliel?

Low Sunday 2013 

Acts 5:27–32 and John 20:19–29

The Reverend David Moore

When we were coming up to retirement, 12 years ago, Dorothy and I thought long and hard as to what sort of house we would require in order to live a fulfilling retirement. We decided the minimum requirement would include a house with an upstairs and a downstairs loo; a house which was walking distance from a local shop and a property in which either of us would be comfortable to live alone.

We found such a house and the Methodist Ministers Housing Society purchased it, with us contributing 13% of the cost. It has two bedrooms, the second one doubles as a study. It is a modest house and it suits us well. I built a studio in the garden and there is a garage into which no car has a chance of entering. It is also a good place to live, with neighbors we both like and trust.

However, if we were Housing Association or Local Authority tenants I may not be sleeping so comfortably in my bed at night. I speak of the second bedroom tax!

But this is nothing new - in 1993 the year before we came to Milton Keynes the same song was being sung by the John Major Government. Here is the opening paragraph of a letter I sent to a Government minister and all the MPs in Bradford, where I then worked.

I am outraged at our Government’s latest invective. Selecting lone parents - in reality single mothers - for the latest round of castigation is obscene. .... I am also outraged by the mediocrity of the response of opposition parties.

The bedroom tax is but a continuum of the scapegoating attitudes ever present in class-driven politics. Should you think I am straying too far from scripture I invite you to take a second look at the Bible Reading from the Acts of the Apostles.

You will recall the reading from the Acts ended at verse 32.

This touched them on the raw and they wanted to put him to death... 

the passage continues ...

...But a member of the Council rose to his feet, a Pharisee called Gameliel, a teacher of the law held in high regard by all the people. He said Men of Israel, be very careful what you do with these men. Now my advice to you is this: keep clear of these men, for if what is planned and done is human in origin, it will collapse, but if it is from God you will never stamp it out, and you risk finding yourself at war with God.‘ 

Today we might say that Gameliel was viewing the bigger picture.

During the last ‘World War’ when the bombing of Germany and England was at its height the Rt Revd. George Bell, Bishop of Chichester, spoke out against the British policy of the carpet bombing of German cities - bombing which was primarily aimed at industrial working class areas of Germany. Bell did not get an easy ride - either from his Archbishop or from Parliament - but Bell was made of tough stuff - he was seeing beyond the immediate - his eyes were upon what it means to be civilised at a time of war.

A part of our high calling is being civilised and equitable in times of constraint - we are called to witness to the generosity of God ... the one who is light years beyond any possibility of penny pinching.

If only there were such effective voices in our land today, voices to speak to a government which now appears to be totally out of touch with the lives of ordinary people but which seems hell bent, not only on asking the poorest to carry a disproportionate share of the cost of the present financial plight, but also implying they are part of the problem.

Back to My house. If I were forced to downsize to a one bedroomed house - I cannot begin to imagine the real cost - books, furniture, paintings, tools, sculptures, clothes, studio. Never again being able to invite a visitor to stay - be it our children, grandchildren or friends. Nowhere to make sculptures. Yes, I also speak about the meaning of being civilised!

So where is our Gamaliel today? Who is willing to speak to power about truth of modesty? Where is the champion? The Church of Scotland, the Baptist Church, the United Reformed Church and the Methodist all made a comment this week ... I applaud their effort but the trouble is it had no real teeth! No practical dissent, no action.

How many people do you think there are who are in real danger of being forcibly relocated and have no platform from which to be heard? Relocated ... now there is a familiar word ... remember it?

In 1970 the book The Discarded People depicting the relocation of black South Africans from valuable development areas to more remote areas.. A few years later the priest/author Cosmas Desmond, was forced into exile and was to become one of my closest friends in East London. I conducted his memorial service just a year ago! He was the author of The Discarded People.

The Bantu Homelands Citizens Act - one of a string of Acts by the legitimate South African Parliament, compelled all black people to become a citizen of the homeland that responded to their ethnic group, regardless of whether they'd ever lived there or not, a process which also removed their South African citizenship.

For Cos Desmond this was an issue of Human Rights, it was about building a Civilised Society, this is why George Bell raised his voice during a war for the enemy about carpet bombing.

Or again going back even further .... The British Government in 1960 adopted the Parker Morris Building Standards which legislated housing to be built upon standards compatible with ‘healthy living’. Air, light, space.

The Margaret Thatcher government removed those standards and today more and more of our fellow citizens live in less and less space. Builders with Rabbit Hutch mentalities! Not only that, but the pouring of much of our income into home ownership has been part and parcel of the financial crisis of recent times. Banking and House building are close cousins!

Is there no balm in Gilead? Can we choose other ways of living? Are we bound forever to a treadmill designed by bankers? Or, as Gameliel put it, ... be careful for what you wish for ... only that which belongs to God truly lasts.

My religious heritage is Methodist which came into being with John and Charles Wesley in the 18th century. No more than 20 years after his death the growing movement began to splinter into a range of denominations all claiming Wesley as their spiritual inspiration - each carrying, as it were, their own particular flag. When these denominations eventually reunited in 1932 a prayer by William Younger the President of the Primitive Methodist Church, concluded with these words:

the oneness of our irrevocable decision (is to) to labour together for the salvation of the world

To labour together for the salvation of the world! ....... Not the salvation of their souls, not an assurance of a place in heaven - the great endeavour was the salvation of the world - civilisation, mutuality, compassion, community, support, strong and weak finding common purpose, shared joy.

Listen to these notes from Wesley’s Journal:

Bath, Wednesday October 1st 1783 All my leisure hours this week I employed in visiting the poor and in begging for them. Having collected about fifty pounds more, I was able to relieve most of those in distress.

Letter to Ebenezar Blackwood:

To Lending Stock	2	0	0
Brooks, expecting daily to have goods taken for rent	1	0	0
To Eliz Room (a poor widow) for rent	0	5	0
Toward clothing for Mary Middleton and another poor woman almost naked	0	10	0
To John Weaver, a poor weaver, out of work	0	5	0
To Lucy Jones, a poor orphan	0	2	0
To a poor family for food and fuel	0	5	0
To Christopher Brown, out of business	0	2	6
To an ancient woman in great distress	0	2	6
Distributed among several sick families	0	10	0
	5	5	0

I am, dear Sir, your affectionate servant

Letter to Dorothy Furley. Sept. 21st 1757 

.... in most genteel religious people there is so strange a mixture that I seldom have confidence in them. I love the poor; in many of them I find pure, genuine grace unmixed with paint, folly and affectation.

So whether I like it or not, even in retirement, I consider myself as a manunder orders! The Methodist Movement flows from the same spirit that moved Bishop Bell to speak out against indiscriminate bombing at a time far more precarious than ours today and perhaps that is why I can never and will never be at rest.

Those of you who read the local newspapers may have seen the headlines about the City Counseling Centre based at this Church. To the undiscerning reader it may have given rise to believing that in some way we (this Church) gave the MK Bereavement Service its marching orders. We can of course simply say that it is nothing to do with us - but so are the poor of the world. Clearly something somewhere has gone off the rails and I hope some representative of ‘us’ might post a message on the notice sheet and or website, expressing at least concern for those who feel trampled upon by recent events.

My difficulty is that resurrection really means ALL of life - we can be polite, mind our own business or we can believe with Bishop Bell and John Wesley that life is far too precious for silence in such matters.

A friend from Stoke on Trent whom I have known for over 50 years, has lived most of her adult life with a severe mobility disorder. Now retired, she works as a volunteer at a local Advice Centre. Last Wednesday was her first day back at the Centre after the Easter and after April 1st - she says the Centre was totally overrun - 100s of emails; queues out the doors - people in panic and confusion, simply not knowing what to do.

Come unto me all you who labour and are laden and heavy laden. Are we meant to believe that ? Are we meant to act it out? Or again: ‘What you do to the least of these my brethren you do it to me?‘
 
What can we actually do about the the changes in benefits? I am sorry to say, very little. A majority of MPs at Westminster have voted for them and some came into effect on April Fools Day! One thing we can do is let our MPs know just how we feel as Christians.

It is not difficult to get email addresses for MPs through the internet - I am not going to spoon feed you!

Postscript

Since this sermon was delivered Margaret Thatcher has died. There is no doubt that she was a remarkable leader. As a politician, most people I knew and worked with, disliked or despised her.

To act justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.

What does the Lord require of you?
To act justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.

Micah 6.8 

A Sermon by The Revd. David Moore
Week of Prayer for Christian Unity, 20 January 2013

If you search the internet for films about Border towns you may be surprised how many there are. You will all have seen such films - often sinister, always a danger of the bad guys arriving; often with a no nonsense sheriff and of course Mexican dozing under big hats! Border towns are often places for people fleeing violence, poverty, cruelty - all looking for safe lodgings or safety or revenge.

Micah lived in a Border town at a time when human settlements were more or less associated with tribes. The implication from his words is that he lived in a violent place, where killing strangers appears to have been a godly thing to do. Probably surrounded by tribal communities - small nation states in the making - knocking ten bells out of each other much of the time.

This was the world of the Prophet Micah who called his fellow citizens to adopt a very different approach to life! He called them to act justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly before God. Micah appears to carry a message similar to that of Isaiah’s, namely to: beat your swords into ploughshares. At a time when other small nation states were slaying each other in the name of God there were a few Jewish ‘dreamers’ with a very different approach to international relations.

We might conclude that many of these films about border towns were revisiting stories as old as the Bible - and this has been the perpetual struggle of those who would provide leadership on the world stage ever since - how to make peace in the midst of diversity, misunderstanding and cultural difference, and competing territorial claims (cf Falklands!).

The recent Cornerstone discussion document on Diversity disappointed me in that it explores diversity solely within our own religious community. My sense is that the burning issue for the Church in Britain is to understand and express the diversity of the world in which we find ourselves and for us that is the experience of Milton Keynes. The word ecumenical refers to the ‘whole inhabited world’ - ecumenism is a quest, a calling, a burden, as well as the holding of everything together in the name of Christ.

Listen to this short letter from a newspaper and as I read it, I invite you to switch your imagination to ‘high definition’ and your memory to that of being a teenager again. This letter comes is by Dinah Hall and was in the Guardian letters page a few weeks ago.

There is nothing like a teenage diary for putting momentous historical events into perspective. “This is my diary entry for 20 July 1969. ‘I went to the arts centre (by myself) in yellow cords and blouse. Ian was there but he did not speak to me. Got a rhyme put in my handbag by somebody who’s apparently got a crush on me. It’s Nicholas I think. UGH. Man landed on moon.’”

Four words about humankind’s most momentous adventure ever and 66 words about teenage hormones!

This story makes clear the power of our personal agenda to override the most spectacular world-changing events. How is it that our interests, fears, passions have the power to override or hide what is happening outside of us?

And that is also the tragic story of the church: we produce some of the most beautiful music, literature and art the world has ever known, but are beaten down again and again by the bigotry of our own ignorance. And we are not free of it here at Christ the Cornerstone, far from it.

There are very few people remaining who were here at Cornerstone when the decisions were made to build this church. Clearly, a project as ambitious as this does not ‘just happen’. Meeting after meeting after meeting. People like you engaged in discussion after discussion; having major disagreements and eventually finding sufficient agreement to move forward.

It was, by all accounts, an invigorating and taxing time - a time when church members and bishops lost a great deal of sleep! When countless critical decisions had to be made almost on a daily basis, members of the church HAD to find ways of trusting each other! There are now few of those left who carried the full weight of that cost.

As the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity begins, what might the ecumenical vision now mean for us today 21 years on from the opening.

What is clear is that there is hardly any first-hand memory, that we have difficulty in recalling or imagining the exact emotions and order of events. If memory and interpretation is that hard to grasp, how much harder will it be to envisage the Bible stories - and therein lays a problem. We today are perhaps not unlike the girl in yellow jeans - our emotions colour all our horizons. Putting our personal agendas to the fore can be a way of missing what God’s word for us today might be.

What does the Lord require of you? To act justly, to love mercy, and walk humbly with your God. Micah 6.8

This week I invite you to reflect/muse upon faith as ‘radical trust'; love as course of action, rather than a cluster of beliefs about which we endlessly argue or worry. 

The Border town prophet spelt out a radical belief:

Act justly - this is first and foremost about putting others first - not allowing the ‘yellow jean syndrome’ to flood our horizon with our ‘hormones’ or cultural myopia. (Myopia = nearsightedness, lack of imagination, foresight or intellectual insight.) Act justly.

Love mercy - think of ‘love’ as a verb ... a doing word; love as action rather than sentiment or sentimentality; putting first that which puts the other person first. (The trouble is we think we know what is best for others!)

I cannot pass the word ‘sentimentality’ without comment - the sentimentality we go in for at difficult times - eg death - is so damaging, so deadly!! How dare we voice that American drivel about not being dead but just in another room. When we die we are gone for ever - the crematorium sees to that. Justice is also about the persistence of truth.

Walk humbly - to take this lifestyle as no big deal - this, quite simply, is the reason why it can be a very disturbing way - the radical nature of ordinariness when lived with purpose.

When I came to work here I was more than a little bruised by my previous experience of being sacked ... I came into a team of remarkably gifted human beings ALL of whom treated me as if I had more to offer that I could imagine. I remember all their names and the tone of their voices.

One of the things I personally find most difficult as a Christian is the way other people assume to know what, for me, being a Christian means .... the assumption is that it’s about believing in impossible things, like God, the Trinity, being good!

For me being a Christian is first and foremost NOT these things but about becoming a pilgrim, having a clear purpose you can articulate.

What I have in mind is ‘love’ as a verb and not just or even a feeling.  I am drawn by the disturbance Jesus caused to the establishment because of his capacity to focus on the most important things, and my quest is to redefine what that means for us today.

I cannot affirm with any sense of purpose or excitement the historic creeds - I do not want to get rid of them - they are marker posts in the ever-changing sands of Christian history. However, I do invite you to make time this week to muse upon my minimalist affirmation: faith as a journey away from certainty, rather than a primary source of certainty. I understand faith as a call to action, rather than a cluster of beliefs which we argue about or feel forced to conform to.

The disturbance Jesus brought to the establishment of his day, because of his capacity to focus upon the most important things and to redefine and refine what that was, is my primary interest.

The very thing that ‘captured’ me when I arrived at Cornerstone was that people were living by faith - not in pious ways but practical, intelligent, adult ways. That is the reason I am still here. I do, however, fear now that the Diversity discussion, as wonderful as it is, lacks the political clout required to face up to the long-term disasters being heaped upon future generations by the present Government.

I do not believe that Jesus would settle for the present level of silence between believers and the world.

Act justly, love mercy, walk humbly with God. These characteristics do not immediately spring to mind in either the political or religious world of today.

We all adore Desmond Tutu. I wrote to Tutu many years ago when I was organising an ecumenical confirmation service, asking him to send a letter of greeting to those who were being confirmed. He obliged, sending me a letter, whereupon I, with skilful 1990 photocopying and careful use of pen AND ink, rewrote the individual names plus Desmond’s signatures. I photocopied the letter with handwritten names and signatures. Fifteen or so people between 12 and 80 left clutching their letter as if holding hands with God!

My small brush with fraud is nothing compared with the courage and clear-headedness of Desmond Tutu but we appear to have no such prophet in the land! We applaud the example but few even attempt to follow his example - we all have a long, long journey ahead. How will we rise to the challenge?

Peter Sharrocks, a retired Methodist minister living in Milton Keynes, has written songs for most of his life and he completed this one just yesterday. In conclusion I offer Peter’s vision of the ecumenical quest, in the hope that we here at Cornerstone may continue with a vision which is greater than self-interest:

TRANSCENDENT LOVE

Transcendent Love, lift us above
the petty squabbles that divide –
the spats of jealousy and griefs
that split a family apart;
with mercy, grace and deeper love
help us to heal and reconcile.

Transcendent Love, lift us beyond
the need to dominate and rule –
above the fears that come between
the nations and religious creeds;
let mercy, grace and justice be
the means by which we build our peace.

Transcendent Love, lift us above
beliefs that differ and divide;
compassion calls, and God’s served best
when neighbours needs are recognised;
humbly we walk, with hearts aflame
for justice in a world of pain.

Rejoice in God who raises up
the Way of Christ, the Best of Love;
there is no way than this to peace,
no meaner path than sacrifice;
the prophet’s call rings out today,
let faith be trust in Jesus’ Way.

©2013 Peter Sharrocks

Mary and Elizabeth

A reflection by The Reverend David Moore

Luke 1: 26 - 38

Most of you will no doubt will love a good story - very long novels, however well written, are not for me. In fact the storytelling which appeals most to me is poetry. I always circumvent being disappointed at Christmas by buying myself a new book of poetry.

In a poem a word can mean whatever the poet or the reader, choose it to mean. I am not suggesting that with poetry we abandoning all reason, but that in reading a poem the conjunction of pace, rhythm and form, plus where you are sat, can create such juxtapositions in ones head that more than we ‘know’ can come to mind. It has been said that a poem is never finished, simply abandoned.

Alan Horner gave his book of poetry the title ‘ A picture with the paint still wet’ - suggesting that poetry is not completed and that the reader can always reads as if for the very first time.

I consider much of the Biblical narrative to be first cousins, if not non-identical twins, of poetic form. Over and over again we can be readi it as if for the first time.

Mary and Elizabeth, what beautiful literature, what precise storytelling, touching the heights of the very best poetry ever penned. So, what better Christmas gift can I offer you but Alan’s poem ‘a picture with the paint still wet.’

A picture with the paint still wet

The Word became flesh

and had his portrait painted,

but not hung in the Gospel Gallery,

gazed on by the multitudes

for a fixed fee. His

was a picture with the paint still wet,

changing with the changing light,

open to interpretations, all correct,

depending where the viewer stood.

The virgin Birth was a stroke

of genius, an inspiration of eternity,

unique in its conception,

delicate in its portrayal,

showing the seeming simple

life of obedient faith.

Bethlehem background

might have been predicted,

being the home town

of that most honoured king,

himself a son of God,

though wayward with it,

the singer of God’s praise.

He was a shepherd too, of sheep

and of God’s nation flock,

but shepherds were but common folk,

at home in sheepfolds

or in sheltering barns,

no airs and graces, though sufficient grace.

Angels and stars were messengers

in that ancient world, where

all such forces were servants

of the most high God,

and served to indicate

the face of the divine.

the source and end of wisdom

for all who love the truth,

whatever their religion, race

and unlikely gifts. Such are

the Magi, also in the canvas,

moving across the screen, adding

their own flavour, colour to the whole.

That the paints run and the lines blur

is not matter of surprise. This

is not the stuff of science or of history’s

assumed or proven fact. This is not prose,

but poetry, with its own power

to reach the heart, which static pictures lack.

A poem of lasting worth does not give up all of its treasures on the first reading - nor do the biblical narratives. Last year, for all its worth is not today - read, reflect, experience the story now, whatever it may say.

Thanksgiving for the life of Edna Read FRSA

Background

Edna Read was a remarkable woman compared by one friend as ‘a ball-bearing, eg shiny, beautiful, indestructible and always on the move’. Sadly indestructible she was not!

Her life was shaped first by her history - an Anglo-Japanese teenager in Britain during the 1940s - and, secondly, by the intuitive way she embraced the visual arts as a critical and vital humanising presence in the life of the emerging new city of Milton Keynes.

She remained beautiful into her 80s, remaining energetic, persuasive and also completely impossible at times. She died aged 83 following a road accident in November 2012.

The Remarkable Edna Read

Address by The Reverend David Moore

Tuesday 13 November 2012

There is no avoiding it - I cannot avoid being political!

The news that a Henry Moore sculpture sold to Tower Hamlets Council in East London at a reduced price is now to be sold to offset the impact of Government cuts is, I fear, a clear sign of the true terror of our times - that of knowing the price of everything and the value of nothing.

It is not just that the economy is in trouble, but far more critically, the vision of civil society, of our life together, has itself become disposable! Can you imagine what Edna would be doing about the Moore sculpture - she would be firing off letters and emails in all directions, whilst the rest of us go Tut, Tut,Tut and carry on as usual!

Edna understood value and worth in terms of human enrichment, community enrichment ..... for her, cities were not battery farms for people, but launch pads for exploring the, as yet, unknown. For Edna art was far more than decorative, she believed it to be transformative, the very stuff that leads the human adventure/development.

With the death of Edna Read this city has lost an arts Champion at a terribly dangerous moment for the arts. We must all pray - believers and unbelievers together (!) - that the challenge of taking up the baton of her vision will be accepted as a high priority in these austere times. We dare not allow the present restraints to lull us into believing that austerity means the loss of artistic vision, that the new, the unknown is somehow unattainable or put on hold.

There was a time when Edna regularly drove down to London in an old van, convincing Gallery owners to lend her paintings for her to hang in the new offices and other work places of Milton Keynes! You heard earlier John Napleton’s comment on an Arts Loan Scheme Edna organised with the Library Service.

Edna believed to her very bones that the visual arts were as important to civil society as public footpaths, clean water and roundabouts! It is because she was so driven by her vision that I want to nudge you again with words from John Chapter 1 and the Andrew Motion poem A Garden in Japan.

St John writing to an early community of Christians described how he saw things: They heard the conversation still going on, here, now, and took part, discovering a new way of being people.

New ways of being people - that was Edna.

Or again the concluding verses of A Garden in Japan :

but the real event

will be my decision

to lift a red leaf

from the fang of rock

overhanging the pool,

and so free the current

to fall to earth

which will never again

be one and the same (Andrew Motion The Cinder Path)

Edna refuted the view that we could do nothing. She believed there were things we could all do which would make a difference. She was a ‘believer’! We could all find a leaf to lift which would release some energy!

‘Visions’ don’t have a particularly good press at the present time - perhaps to a certain genre of film makers - but visions, or if you prefer, deep seated change, only takes place in real time - never somewhere else, and that was what Edna was always about. Deep seated change and Public art was her gateway and her highway.

She knew in her heart the immense potential of the arts and how a place as ‘barren’ as a new city could be gently transformed by the arts, especially public art, that a culture could be led through infancy and puberty to becoming a life-giving entity.

As we might give a meal a lift by the addition of a twist of black pepper, so Edna knew the arts was charged with a similar mystery and as such was as important as anything else - a twist by the hand or imagination of an artist can produce/uncover the deepest mystery of life!

A work of art can last for ever while almost everything else in life must change or die!

To my mind, the arts are the permanent hand and footprint of God in the world. Edna also knew the art of lifting the leaf, allowing the water to flow and everything being transformed. But this has to be done on the hoof, in the hustling and bustling of everyday life. It is not reified activity.

I remember, as yesterday, the first time I met Edna. It was 18 years ago in her small office on the lower floor of Saxon Court. I was the newly-appointed City Centre Chaplain and had an interest in the arts. I was looking for a brief introduction to the arts in Milton Keynes and I got far more than I had bargained for!

The fact that I had stumbled upon more than I could quantify or comprehend did not matter - that first conversation sealed a friendship which sadly concluded a few days before her death. It was in the Guildhall of this church, a Fair Trade Sale - we had a coffee, lots of laughter and as usual plotting, plotting, plotting. And I must say that although she was frail, she looked spectacular! She was herself a fantastic work of art!

Over the years she introduced me to artists, arts administrators, politicians and community leaders - her address book must have been phenomenal - and it was in and through that address book that she steered her own vision of a ‘world made right’. (How I would like to get my hands on it!)

I recall her speaking of her burning desire as a 14 year old (1943) of not wanting to appear to be Japanese, of wanting to pass as English. She wanted to be tall, white and blonde, not small and dark. The fact that her best efforts were futile probably led to even greater determination, ingenuity and guile in later life!

The Exhibition at this Church ‘The Japanese in Britain’ was an outstanding success. It involved me being driven by Edna to London to meet with possible funders, but also hearing stories from her childhood. Her driving certainly did encourage one to pray! On one occasion she drove straight into the Royal Academy and demanded to park outside the College of Antiquarians and we were immediately admitted. We had tea and cake and left!

You have already heard mention of those three exhibitions in the CBX building - they were absolutely outstanding by anyone’s standards - she put down markers about vision and quality and audacity which are hard to live with and that is the point. ‘A world made right’ does not come cheap and you can’t buy it. It has to be worked for.

Paul Tillich fled Nazi Germany for America. To my mind he was one of the 20th century’s most remarkable theologians - he learned to squeeze himself beyond the immediate mysteries and problems of life to a position where he could form a grand, more detached vision - indeed not unlike Edna. Tillich wrote this about the arts:

“.... the arts open up a dimension of reality which is otherwise hidden, and they open up our own being for receiving this reality.  Only the arts can do this: science, philosophy, moral action and religious devotion cannot.  The artist brings to our senses, and through them to our whole being, something of the depth of our world and of ourselves, something of the mystery of being.” 

Edna may not have put things quite like that but that is what she was about and that is why she was so passionate in her support for so many artists. Her vision outstripped most of our dreams! For her, what she did was not passing fancy, no time filler, this was the STUFF of life itself. She “heard the conversation going on” and joined in! And she was at it until the very end.

Recently Edna was in conversation with this church as to how it might be possible to fund the reinstallation of a Ronnie Rae Sculpture in front of this church. Her proposal was a lease-lending arrangement leading eventually to a transfer of ownership. She just could not stop working against impossible odds, for public sculpture in this city.

It was, of course, Edna that we have to thank for the beautiful Willi Soukop papier maché sculptures in the Reception Area of this Church and the fantastic Madonna and Child in the Chapel. Most of us, including me, have no idea of the debt we owe to this woman.

Public Sculpture in Milton Keynes was a deep, deep concern for Edna - she considered it to be the Jewel in the Crown of Milton Keynes and as such required care and conservation. One of her dreams (that did not come to fruition) was for vacation time courses in art conservation for young people - both in terms of care for our heritage but also in terms of opening windows to career opportunities for young people in this city. She ached for her vision to spread beyond the art specialist, to cascade down to the poorest streets and homes of Milton Keynes.

Find a piece of public sculpture in MK and you will find a trace memory of Edna.

In conclusion, a personal comment - I started making sculptures at the age of 50. The first object I exhibited was at Edna’s insistence! It was at an exhibition she had organised at the then De Montfort University in MK. Since then, somehow, I have curated 16 exhibitions as far afield as Edinburgh, Taunton, Winchester, Westminster, Tower Hamlets and, of course, Milton Keynes, including places where exhibitions were virtually unknown. It was her, she set that ball rolling! She caused something dormant within me to kick start into life. I also “heard the conversation still going on and joined in”. Edna the evangelist!

A Champion has left us ... another red leaf has been lifted, causing much to change .... painful change, untimely change ... and for the moment there is a pause in the conversation. Rest in Peace dear friend .... we will find ways to honour your memory. Remembering your fortitude we will face the new challenges ahead of us.

In Biblical terms Edna was the Good Samaritan - the one who did the right thing. None of us can say we have not been given a good example.

PS This morning I received an email from Ronnie and Pauline Rae in Edinburgh. It is their wish to donate one of Ronnie’s granite sculptures to the memory of Edna and it is their wish that it be sited in front of this Church - that means, it being granite, her memory will be here forever and ever. Amen.