Christ: Power and Powerlessness
Sermon preached in St Salvator's Chapel, St Andrews on the 10th February, 2008 by Rt Rev John Mantle
Readings: Genesis 2: 15 - 17 & 3: 1 - 7 and Matthew 4: 1 - 11
Sermon
[I always write sermons to be heard and never read. Please excuse any odd punctuation; I'ts deliberate]
The story of Christ's temptations in the wilderness is in Matthew's case an elaboration of what is perhaps the earliest account we find in St Mark's Gospel. The commonly held view of many commentators is that Jesus is tempted by Satan to misuse his powers, not for the sake of Israel - or humankind - but simply for himself. Jesus is tested, he withstands Satan; he is ready for his mission.
The story has always made me think simply of humility, of powerlessness, of how the Christian life can never be about personal gain but is about actually living something real. In fact a few years ago, I started arguing (and I'm still doing it) that the primary mission of the church, or rather the primary mission of individual Christians who make up the church - and contrary to so much ecclesiastical rhetoric - is not so much to make Christ known, or proclaim him as Lord and Saviour but first, to live the gospel ourselves. More of that later. The theme of humility suggests I might simply tell you a true story....
Some years ago I enjoyed a sabbatical, but because I had a wife and small children is seemed quite inappropriate to go away anywhere, so rest and study were confined to my own county. I had anyway set myself a course of research into the Britain's post-war world (that's my period) and, because I had chosen to stay at home, I had booked into a variety of places where peace and quiet were guaranteed. These turned to be religious communities...and one was a place called Bede House in Staplehurst in Kent, where an Oxford community of nuns offer just that, to visitors and guests from everywhere. I was given a small wooden building a bit like a small bungalow which I could visit for all day every day. My meals would take in a small refectory with other guests and the sisters. It was heaven. I began with an enormous crate of books and papers, writing materials - and I allowed myself one luxury a packet of coffee bags - Lyons real ground coffee - (for I had then taken a vow I have always kept... never to drink instant coffee...can't stand the stuff...!)
I began my work and got a great deal done, when. one day, deep in study and thought, it seemed like I was beginning a long journey into the past...a past that was about my childhood, back into the 1950s, and through my reading I was caught up it seemed in a world where I was suddenly confronted with the appalling struggle my parents had to make ends meet. My father was an Episcopal minister living and working in Dundee's worst industrial housing scheme. A graduate of Edinburgh and our Church's Theological College, he faithfully bore that ministry for more that thirteen years...as we lived in a kind of poverty. Suddenly I felt draw on that journey deep into that past - to share my parents struggle...and I became quite upset...
I was shaken out of my tears by a bell the bell that rang for the midday office. One of the quiet moments of prayer that punctuated each day. I always joined the sisters and other guest - and a bit thankful that I had been rescued from rather selfish thoughts perhaps. I made my way outside and along a path to an exquisite simple little chapel - built out of an old oast house. I knelt to pray and join in the community in a service that never more than about 7/8 minutes of readings and Psalms at that time of day.
The devotions over, I remained on my knees thinking about my mum and dad - when I noticed out of the corner of my eye one of the sisters lurking on the other side of a plate glass door. She was waiting for me.... now I tell you even in the Anglican church there's nothing quite as intimidating as a lurking nun! What misdemeanor had I committed, what had I done? ...I racked my brains but could think of nothing.... I thought it best to face the music so I rose from my thoughts and made for the door. As I opened it I was faced to my surprise - with (if you will forgive the sexism) a very attractive young sister. 'Good morning...' I said rather sheepishly...she said nothing at first, but gave me a wry inquisitive look: 'You'....she said...in an American accent....'you got REAL coffee in your room!' I was taken aback...and wondered what was coming next...'I went to clean your room last night...I smelt it!' She said ...'do you know how long it is since I've had Real Coffee?' I couldn't, poor thing...'Well' I said....'I don't suppose it's the done thing to ask a nun back to your room - but you're welcome to come and have coffee with me'. Then she broke into a smile 'I'm teasing you' she said. 'Anyway what are you doing here?' I explained that I was on sabbatical, but because I had chosen not to make a journey anywhere ....but before I could carry on she said something that stopped me in my tracks and astonished me. She said 'Ah, but you have been away, haven't you, I think you've been a long way off...and I wasn't very happy for you was it?' I was amazed and, looking down at the stone floor found myself saying out loud, 'Well, You know sometimes life is just a ...just a' 'Just a shit' she said...quietly. There was a pause then she looked straight at me again: 'Do you know what I used to be - do you know what I used to do? I confessed to having no idea. 'I used to be a research scientist in an American state University laboratory'. 'I gave it all up for God, for the religious life, for the sake of others'. And to do know what I am now?' she continued... 'You're a nun now' I sheepishly replied. 'I'm a junior nun she said...I clean the toilets every day, that's my job...' And with a wonderfully happy smile, she patted my hand took me by the arm and led me off to the refectory for lunch.
The story might have ended there with my lingering thoughts if it wasn't for a curious moment just a week or so later. I found myself at home facing an angry wife. Gill worked full time as a practice nurse and with two children and a husband, life got fraught. I can see all of us standing in the hall, myself Gill our two teenagers. My wife was laying down the law; she's had quite enough of untidiness all over the house inactivity by the family. 'You Tim' she said of our son 'can get upstairs and sort that pigsty of yours out, and as for you madam (addressing my daughter) you can start being some assistance around here; and 'what are you going to do?...she snapped at me. 'I'll clean the toilets!' I said...the words came quickly... but I meant them - she looked staggered...But I added quite seriously.. 'you will have to show me what to do'. From that day on...I have tried to do the toilets our children have since gone - even left university and are now in work - I still try to clean the toilets...and over the years I've got better at it...and I notice other people's toilets...
It's easy to see the funny side of all this - but simple words from a nun is seemed, had shaken me out of whatever I had been at that moment. When we think of humility we do not always think of simply human work, or effort, of the simple daily tasks that some people have to do... to earn a living. All of us caught up in or on the edge of the professions can so easily stand- we imagine - above that.
We accept professionalism and authority and with it ...a kind of power. Bishops always joke these days that often in other denominations - we're perceived as people who wield power, we hire and fire don't we? we deliberate and make policy, we speak, others remain silent. It is, in reality palpable nonsense. My congregations, lay men and women chose the ministers for the churches not the bishop. I can make suggestions - they make the decisions; no one, especially a bishop can dismiss a minister (other than for a civil offence) and so even in the worst cases of mismanagement, misbehaviour (and we have them) neither I nor my congregations can fire a minister, even with warnings. It astonishes, and baffles the many good and professional lay folk who worship in our churches.
But there's still that perception that somehow we're powerful; or it's the professor, or the chief executive, or the doctor. You may know the joke about the man who gets to heaven, apparently at the head of a Q - but then someone in a white coat gets in ahead of him; he remonstrates with St Peter, 'Don't worry' says St Peter, its only God - he thinks he's a doctor!' Well in a sense of course those with even a perceived position can still credited with authority just because we are who we are.
The possibility of power corrupting is always there. It's there with Jesus in the wilderness, when the gospel writers tell the story with their vivid description of a kind of war between Jesus and Satan. Here - take this power use it....just think what you could do if you really put your mind to it. You're the doctor or professor, or expert, the professional, the cabinet minister, the principal officer, somewhere the one who¿s clued up, who knows his or her stuff. Never mind what the rule book says, never mind the recent restrictions. Take the authority of office given you... and make your name.
It¿s so easy to fall into the trap - of wielding even a perceived power - so easy to stand there in your uniform wielding your badge of office: the power-point button, your expensive spectacles, the stethoscope, the clipboard, and then bark orders as those below you in the intellectual orde.
Then there are the Christians! Some who believe that the Bible as God's inspired word, or Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour are to be wielded like powerful weapons on the side of truth. We have the knowledge....unless you accept this or that you will end up condemned...I'll give you the text that says so'. So even the Bible, the word of God itself becomes an aggressive tool as texts become not living words of grace and truth, in song and poetry and history, but get used like factors in an equation, to prove a point.
I believe we are called away from such arrogance. I believe the gospels call us into the struggle of human existence in humility. We are challenged like Jesus to face our true selves; who we really are, how we use our gifts and skills and qualifications: what we can become as human persons in the human community.
At the moment, the Christian church is in a frightful quandary as secularization, or cultural plurality, or many others 'isms' help the church in its current state of apparent decline. People panic, churches close, multiculturalism confines what was once Britain's Christian communities, embedded all over our landscape - to the rank of 'religious groups.'
Now, sometimes, the Churches fight back with evangelical zeal; with the 'Fresh expressions' culture of trying to 'be church' in a different way. No one has dared to suggest, that maybe we're not supposed to succeed everywhere. I wrote a while ago, that we sometimes find a ceaseless rhetoric in the churches, claims to absolute truth, a rallying cry that we should prevail and 'go for growth'. But what ...what if we are being called to be small again, to be marginalized as Jesus Christ once was, to be pushed to the edge to stay there and learn awhile. Perhaps we are the ones who need to go out and be humbled and transfigured, rather than always demanding it of others first.
We often point to others - never to ourselves - and that is why I believe we are truly called into a mission. It is to be following in the footsteps of Jesus...to be disciples who, rather than be tempted to use our knowledge and power over others, are called first, to live the gospel ourselves before we ask it of others. If we could do that... if from our encounter with all the powers that can tempt us today, we could be people who could live this gospel, then the world might again be turned upside down. Learning humility, learning to live the gospel, is the hardest lesson of all. But it may be... the only lesson that really matters.
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