'The darkness and light are alike to Thee...'
Sermon preached in St Salvator's Chapel, St Andrews on the 4th November, 2007 by Fr Colin Dickson
Readings: Isaiah1: 10 -18 & Luke 19: 1 - 10
Sermon
In nomine
Were Anthony Trollope - that great observer of Ecclesiastical politics - to drop in to the modern day Church of England he would, I suspect, be pleasantly surprised by how little it had changed over all. We still retain the titles and privileges accorded to the State Church of the 18th Century; our Bishops, when attending occasions of state like the opening of Parliament or, for that matter, the General Synod wear robes of the sort first modelled by the likes of Lancelot Andrewes and Thomas Cranmer. Those of us who prefer a slightly more ultra-montaine vesture are, if anything, even more old fashioned for the Chasuble, no matter how beautifully embroidered, is still a copy of a garment worn by officials in the Roman court of the great Emperor Constantine whilst the Biretta is the medieval forerunner of the modern Mortar board. One area which has changed immeasurably since Trollope's time however, is that of clergy appointments. In times past a young Curate would be summonsed by his Bishop and told to think about going to the Parish of x. On being told this information he would then take himself obediently off to the Parish and begin his ministry there. Nowadays it is quite different for the Church has taken to itself the rather dubious practices of modern commerce: a would-be candidate for a Parish (or for that matter a would-be Assistant Priest) is now obliged to submit a C.V, to apply and then to await the decision of a short-listing panel. If asked by the panel he is then expected to attend a lengthy interview and to deliver a presentation on a topic such as 'consider the implications for City Centre ministry in Croydon over the next six years'. The use of multimedia devices is much encouraged in such a presentation (my own concession to this was to give a typed handout) and if one proves oneself to be adept with Powerpoint presentations one's chances of securing the post are much improved.
Whilst excavating one of the many piles of paper in my study an - activity which often presages a parental visit - I came across the Parish profile I was sent before I applied for the position I now hold. It began and I quote "The Church [of St Michael and All Angels] is at the centre of its Parish but it is a Parish of two halves" in saying this those who wrote the profile were, of course, thinking about the geographical split between St Michael's Parish - a Parish consisting mainly of shopping precincts and department stores - and the residential Parish served by the former Church of St James, now, alas, a block of flats. On a more Theological level however, people could also be forgiven for seeing this division in terms of darkness and light; of Godliness and ungodliness. In St Michael-s Church - undoubtedly one of the most beautiful and Cathedral-like Churches in London - one could see oneself being very much in an oasis of spiritual calm, peace and light. Day after day people's prayers are heard, and answered, if the thanksgivings in our intercession box are anything to go by; those who have strayed from the Faith are reconciled either by the sheer presence of God in that place or Sacramentally in the Confessional; young couples experience the joy of marriage there, have their children Baptised there and, at the end of life, people are commended to Paradise through the Requiem Masses we offer there. Above all, Our Lord and our Saviour is always present there in the Blessed Sacrament and continues to manifest that presence in the daily celebration of the Holy Eucharist, a presence and celebration unbroken since the dedication of the Church in 1875. This activity could be seen as light.
And what of the darkness? There are also, sadly, many examples of this: we have homeless men and women encamped outside the Car Park next door to the block of flats in which I live; addicts who come into Church on a regular basis and attempt to obtain money by whatever means available to them and we also have Lunar House - the headquarters of the Immigration National Directorate in the United Kingdom - literally just across the road. In this place, despite the considerable efforts made by the Home Office and the many acts of kindness I have personally witnessed on the part of their employees, we see the true cost of, to quote the poet Philip Larkin "man's inhumanity to man." In the short time I have spent there with the Friends of Lunar House - a project launched by a steering group which, I am proud to say, met in St Michael's Church Hall - I have witnessed individuals suffering in a way which will remain with me for a long time to come. The whole issue of Immigration is a complex one and one which I would not presume, as Priest rather than Politician, to answer but, to paraphrase a rather unlikely person in a sermon - that being Joseph Stalin - a million people suffering is a statistic whereas one person suffering is a tragedy. To put it another way: when the immigration issue is focussed onto one single person standing in front of you vulnerable and sad, rather than being an exercise in statistics, it takes on a very different perspective. I think of the countless people I have seen sitting on the metal benches on the third floor - the floor which deals with Asylum seekers; I think of the Pakistani lady quivering with grief over the death of her unborn child as a result of the violence visited upon her in her own land; I think of the countless Zimbabweans whose once affluent country has been reduced to complete chaos by their bestial government; I think of the screams of disbelief, anguish and anger which came from a Kurdish man who on being told that his request for asylum would probably be unsuccessful began to injure himself and his own baby and I think, on a more personal yet still tragic level of a little Iraqi girl in a pink party dress and patent leather shoes happily skipping up and down the floor past the piles of luggage left by her fellow asylum seekers completely unaware that her fate and that of her family was being decided behind the bullet-proof glass cubicles which line the floor and which separate the Immigration Officers from the Asylum seekers. We can not begin to imagine what dreadful sights and sounds that little girl witnessed in Iraq. At an age where children should experience laughter, security and happiness here she was finding release in the detritus left by the broken humanity around her.
It is tempting, as I said earlier, to separate these things into areas of darkness and light, to imply that somehow one belongs in God and God in it but not in the other. This is wrong, desperately wrong, for two reasons. Firstly, the God we worship took on our flesh for our sake, as we recall when we hear the prologue to the Gospel of St John read. Through his Incarnation and Divine Condescension memorably described by St Athanasius as [his willing] humiliation' our Saviour entered every facet of our human experience from sheer elation to sheer desolation, and, therefore He is as much - if not more - in Lunar House as He is in the incense laden gloom of St Michael and All Angels Church as the Psalmist remarks "the darkness and the light are alike to thee" (Ps.139)
Secondly, if we separate different areas of life in this way there is a danger that we begin to think that they have nothing to do with us. How wrong that would be. The suffering one witnesses in Lunar House is not merely the province of the people of Iraq, or Zimbabwe or Eritrea; it is our common humanity suffering because of and with itself; it is an Icon of the suffering God Himself willingly entered in the person of Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. It is therefore imperative that we, as a Christian Community, seek to alleviate this suffering in whatever means we find at our disposal, whether it is by prayer - and let us not underestimate its importance - or more positive action. This may well seem rather far from the 'dreaming spires' of St Andrews but you - as a Christian Community - must ask of yourselves how you will alleviate the suffering you witness in this place, a suffering which will be different from that in Greater London but no less real or important. On a domestic level, are there people around you in your Hall of Residence or Class who are seeking to avoid difficulties in their personal lives by resorting to drugs or to alcohol, what can you do to help them? What can you do to remind them of the God who willingly entered their suffering in order to bring them His Love? What can you do to bring God's Love to them? On a wider level, what are you, as a Community to do to aid those around you in the wider City of St Andrews; those who have fallen by the wayside; those who suffer as a result of unemployment or from drug or alcohol abuse? What are you going to do to aid those who have not been blessed with the same academic opportunities as you? These far-reaching and difficult questions are ones which will not and can not be answered quickly but nonetheless they are ones which you need to ask. If we are to be truly disciples of Christ; if we are to be Disciples in deed as well as in word these questions need to be asked not only today but every day.
As you go forward in your lives, through your University careers and from then into the world I hope and pray that you will take every opportunity to ask those questions and to act on your answers.
Amen.