At the Ordination of Priests in Lincoln Cathedral

They say you should be careful what you wish for.  When the Lord appeared to Solomon and asked what he should give him as a new king, Solomon replied, wisdom.  It was a clever answer, indeed a wise one, because he was able to hear the question for what it was, not ‘what do you want most?’ but ‘what do you need most?’  You no doubt want what most people crave: wealth, success, a long life.  And if you were a king in the ancient world, those things counted, for they were signs that the gods had bestowed their favour.  But Solomon knew that they were not enough.  What he needed if he was to be a good king was altogether more precious and more rare, a quality of character marked by insight, understanding, discernment, reverence for life, love of God.  All this the Bible calls wisdom.   

If you adopted a suspicious reading of this text, you might think that Solomon was simply saying what God wanted to hear, and that if he played the game and gave the right answer he might get the other things he wanted as well, as indeed he did.  Someone as complex as Solomon would certainly be capable of acting out of motives unknown even to himself.  In his later life he fell in love with the lifestyle of an ancient near eastern potentate. The seductions of riches, power, ostentation, slavery and sex show how capable he was of being corrupted. Don’t think any of us is immune. ‘Let those who think they stand take care lest they fall’.  And yet…. How appealing is this story of the young winsome king at the dawn of his reign, so eager to please God, so willing to do the right thing, so humble in accepting that he knew nothing and had everything to learn.  It was the best moment of his life.  Despite his fame and fortune in later years, he was never richer than he was that night when he had a dream, and God called to him, and he knew what he must ask for. 

We are privileged today to be with these ten good people as they are ordained priest. They start out like Solomon did, both excited and daunted by what lies ahead. This story says so much that is important about office-holding, standing for God in public, making sure that our motives are pure and our vision bright and that at the heart of it all is a sense that we are accountable to God whose work this ultimately is.  It’s more than forty years since I was ordained priest. I shall never forget the holiness of that summer, the expectancy and privilege I felt as I offered my life surrounded by those who loved me and were praying for me.  The memories have sustained me all these years, reminded me what I must live up to, encouraged me to persevere when times have been hard. Like Solomon, I knew I was not ready for this awesome task, never would be unless God gave what only God can give: wisdom, understanding, strength and the capacity to love.  

In the past few days I’ve been immensely glad to spend time in retreat with the ordinands. We've been reflecting on the beautiful hymn to the Holy Spirit we shall shortly sing together as the ordination prayer begins, Come Holy Ghost, our souls inspire. It was written by a seventeenth century Bishop of Durham, John Cosin and has been sung at ordinations ever since his time. We’ve explores some of the themes in these verses: vocation and illumination, protection and resilience in public ministry, and how we do love’s work in our witness to the gospel, leading the church’s praise, caring for those in pain, and reaching out to the world. All this they do in God’s name. So it's right that the hymn ends with the prayer Teach us to know. The focus is God himself, because to know God and love him is what we were made for. It’s the basis of all life, all faith, all ministry. So our prayer that these new priests may have Solomon’s wise and understanding mind comes down to this: that they may know and love and glorify and find joy in God whom we worship as Father, Son and Holy Spirit.  

Like Solomon, our ordinands have dreams, and why shouldn’t they on this great day in their lives? What will they ask for in their dreams? Will it be success, being popular and admired, well spoken of, having a life free of conflict and hostility? They wouldn’t be human if they did not recognise that ministry would be a lot easier and trouble-free if only it were like that.  

But the story of Solomon speaks of desires that are more grown-up than the wish list we put to fairy godmothers.  “Give me a wise and understanding mind.” Which means being aware of what God wants for the world and for human beings, all that will make for our reconciliation and flourishing, our healing and our happiness. One way of seeing ordained ministry is that it lives out this quest to be wise, to be a seeker after truth, in a public way. Solomon’s wisdom was not given to him for his private use.  It was so that his whole people could become wise too, and God’s wisdom be known to the ends of the earth.  Teach us to know will be the prayer we sing for our new priests as they kneel at this most solemn moment of their lives.  

But we ask it for ourselves too, and on behalf of many others in our world. So pray that our priests may always want to know God so that they can prompt us in turn to feel after God and find him. Pray that they may touch human need so that we stand together in Christ’s name close to those who are poor or helpless or in pain. Pray that they may bear witness to God’s goodness in a way that brings good news to people far and wide. Pray that they may lead us in word and sacrament to praise God "for our creation, preservation and all the blessings of this life, but above all for his inestimable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ". 

And pray that they may imitate Christ himself. Because in the New Testament, it is Christ is the wisdom of God, embodied in our midst, the one who came to bring to the world his light and life. So our dream is simply to be as he was and do as he did, anointed by the Spirit who came upon him: glorifying his Father, speaking words of grace, praying for his people, healing the sick, serving the poor, announcing the kingdom of heaven, laying down his life for his friends.

 

Yes, it is so easy to say and so hard to do.  Yet he comes to us, as God came to Solomon, and asks us what we most need if we are to be obedient to his call.  And he longs to hear us say, as we long to hear ourselves say in our best moments, ‘Lord, I am only a child. I do not know how to go out or to come in. Give your servant therefore a wise and understanding mind’.  And with it, the gifts to lead and serve, and a heart to love.

 Lincoln Cathedral, at the ordination of priests, 1 July 2017
1 Kings 3.3-15

In the House of Dreams: a farewell sermon to the choir

Yes, it is true: there is wickedness at work in the world, as the parable of the wheat and the tares tells us. We should not be surprised when bad things happen to innocent people. The tragedy of Gaza, the shooting down of the Malaysian aircraft over Ukraine, the plight of thousands of desperate Christians fleeing Mosul as their churches are burned – the events of the past week have touched us and we bring them with us in our prayers as we come to the Cathedral today. But as the orthodox funeral rite says that even at the grave we sing alleluia. So once more we celebrate this liturgy of the crucified and risen Christ, and by the miracle of grace we still find it in our hearts to sing.

And singing comes into things today.  Let me speak directly to the choir. For some of you today marks the end of your time as choristers and choral scholars here at Durham. But as we say farewell, we treasure the good memories for which we are thankful. You will remember us, and we shall not forget you, and for all of us this place, this holy place, this beautiful cathedral, will be the focus of our memories, for it was here that we worshipped and sang together for a while; and it is from here that you go out to new schools, new work, new places, new studies, new adventures, new lives. 

In the Old Testament reading, Jacob finds himself alone, in a strange place and spends the night there. The light has failed, and he is afraid of what may lie ahead. As he sleeps, he dreams of a ladder to heaven with angels going up and down. But God stands beside him and assures him: ‘Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go’. Next day he realises that something wonderful has happened. ‘Surely the Lord is in this place – and I did not know it!’ He is overwhelmed and afraid: ‘how awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven’. 

This Cathedral, this house of God, is an awesome place. It overwhelms us too at times, but we love it for the way it lifts our vision, cherishes us and makes us feel safe, tells us that God is with us. We have found shelter here for a while. Like the stone Jacob rested on, these stones have offered a safe place. They were here long before us, and they will be here long after we have left. They saw us come and they will see us go. Years pass and with them generations of singers and scholars, choristers and clergy, young and old, all for whom this is Beth-El, the house of God where we worship him and learn to love him and know he is in this place. 

And like the stone where Jacob rested, this cathedral is a house of dreams. Here we dream of other worlds as we look up that ladder into heaven and catch a glimpse of angels. Like him, we dream of a promised land where our world comes home to God and all its troubles and sorrows are laid to rest. Like him we dream of a just land where everyone is treated fairly and there is no more war or hunger. Like him we dream of a beautiful land where there is peace and harmony and we join in the music of the spheres. All these worlds are in our dreams as we worship God and imagine that his kingdom is coming among us. The liturgy and the music, the architecture, the sheer beauty of this Cathedral give us good dreams, holy dreams that can change our lives. 

50 years ago a black American preacher and civil rights campaigner made a famous speech. Martin Luther King said: ‘I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the colour of their skin but by the content of their character. With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we shall transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we shall work together, pray together, struggle together, stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day’. We know those words so well, but they have not lost their ability to stir us. That’s the power of good dreams, not to escape from reality but so that we enter into it more deeply. Jacob was asleep when he dreamed of the ladder to heaven, but he was never more awake in his life. Dreams matter. They change the world. 

So let me say to the choristers and choral scholars who are leaving us today: in this house of God, your music has helped us dream of a world as God would have it, a place of peace and justice, glory and freedom, light, life and love.  And you have been caught up in those dreams too, at least I hope you have. You have glimpsed things that are not given to everyone, you have dreamed of a ladder to heaven. It is a huge privilege to see what you have seen and hear what you have heard. Heaven has been opened to you for a while, close enough to touch. Perhaps angels have brushed our sleeve and you did not know it.

But let me mention another aspect of the story. Jacob was on a journey when he lay down and had his dream. He had left his father Isaac and would not see him again until his deathbed. He was in fear of his brother Esau for the wrong he had done him by stealing his blessing. He was afraid, not knowing what lay ahead. The dream was an immensely important turning-point. After it, his mind was clearer, his direction set, his confidence restored. All because he glimpsed heaven and knew God was standing by him. It was not the end of his journey, far from it. Struggles and ordeals lay ahead. The way would often be dark, and faith and hope would be tested. But his inner eyes had been opened. All would be well. He could trust his dream. He could trust God.

This house of dreams has been a part of your journey too. Perhaps you, like Jacob, are wondering what life will mean in the future, where your path is headed. Perhaps your faith and your hope waver at times.  You are only human. But I want to say to all of you: at those times, think back to your time here, to the dreams you shared through your music, to the glimpses of heaven you’ve enjoyed. You have given so much to Durham. Don’t forget what Durham has given you. Let it inspire you in the years ahead, put within you the incentive to serve God wherever life leads you, give you the vision and the strength to make a difference in the world and touch the lives of others. Go on loving and making music all your lives. And go on playing your part in creating the music Martin Luther King spoke about, that ‘beautiful symphony of brother- and sister-hood’.

‘If God will be with me, and will keep me in this way that I go, then the Lord shall be my God.’ That was Jacob’s promise to himself and his promise to God. He set up a stone to remember what had happened to him at that awesome place where his dream woke him up and he glimpsed God and the angels’ way to heaven. In the same way, keep the stones of this great Cathedral in your minds as a kind of landmark. Remember what you received here, what you gave here, what you saw and heard here, what you hoped for here, what you came to love. Don’t forget this house of dreams, this house of God, this gate of heaven. And go with our blessing. Go with our profound thanks. Go in hope. Go in God.

At the end of year sung eucharist, 20 July 2014 (Trinity V)
Genesis 28.1-4, 10-21; Matthew 13.24-30, 36-43

The House of the Interpreter

Wisdom means many things in the Hebrew Bible.  It can mean practical skill, competence, good management.  It can mean insight and discernment.  It can mean knowledge of the natural world.  It can mean learning the lessons of history and transmitting them to your children.  It can mean being able to play music and write poetry.  It can mean having a moral sense, an educated conscience. It can mean detachment from our drives, an inward stability of character.  But however they speak about it, wisdom is a religious quality.  The wise sum it up as the fear of the Lord, committing your way to him.  The wise know their place in the scheme of things, and in relation to God the creator who is not only the source of wisdom but is Wisdom itself.

Being aware means learning how to discern and ‘read’ the world and what God is doing in it. There are biblical stories that seem designed to explore how God works in the lives and histories of people and nations, and how some have the gift to see into the meaning of events, understand the patterns within them.  The Joseph story in Genesis is like this.  It is one of the most perfect narratives not just in scripture but in all of literature.  Our passage comes in the middle of the story where Joseph is playing games with his estranged brothers: he knows who they are, but they have not yet recognised him.  One of the story’s themes is to portray Joseph as a wise man.  He shows shrewdness and skill as a manager in Potiphar’s house; when Potiphar’s wife tries to seduce him he behaves with integrity; he knows what is required when famine befalls; and not least, he has compassion for his brothers with whom he wants to be reconciled. 

But more than anything, Joseph has the gift of interpretation.  He can understand his own dreams, and others soon start telling him theirs: the butler, the baker, Pharaoh himself.  Somehow, Joseph has the gift of detecting in them what God is doing or is about to do, and counsel the right response. Dreams provide clues to the mysterious workings of providence; what is needed is to know how to read their meanings within the larger purposes of God. Every psychoanalyst knows the importance of decoding the complex but intelligent symbolism of dreams and how reflecting on them adds to wisdom. In a larger way, reading the signs of the times is like reading dreams. ‘Even though you intended to do harm to me, God intended it for good’ he says at the end of the story. 

I want to commend to you the interpreter as an image of what the church is for. One of its tasks is to help people understand and respond to what God is doing in the world and in people’s lives: pointing to meanings, uncovering significance, not simply human significance but divine significance.  Wordsworth, in a beautiful phrase in his ‘Lines Written above Tintern Abbey’ speaks about ‘seeing into the life of things’.  You may say that it’s a brave person who speaks like that in our age.  Yet in the ancient world no-one seriously doubted that providence, dreams, omens, sacred texts all carried meaning; the only question was, what.  Today when we are suspicious of ‘grand narratives’ we still want to ask the fundamental question of how we recognise pattern, structure and connection in the world, and how we dare to speak about it.

As Christian interpreters, we establish meaning in different ways.  We do it when we bring the power of the gospel to bear upon human lives and transform them.  We do it in the celebration of the liturgy where we play at living in the kingdom of God as if it were already fully present. We do it in our relationships with individuals, when, in joy or in sadness we attempt to read the stories of their lives in the light of the value God puts upon each of them. And we do it in our citizenship of the world by putting the questions of God’s kingdom to situations where justice and mercy are unacknowledged or forgotten and victims have no voice of their own.  In looking for ‘divine significance’, we are taking seriously our role as God’s interpreters.

I’m saying that the interpreter is, if you like, God’s spy in recognising and naming the good, the beautiful and the true, and also falsehood, deception and illusion for what they are.  In John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress, Christian comes with his heavy burden into the house of the Interpreter.  As he steps inside, he is shown a painting.  It shows a man ‘with his eyes lift up to heaven, the best of Books in his hand, and the Law of Truth writ on his lips; … his work is to know and unfold dark things to sinners, even as also thou seest him stand as if he pleaded with men.’  He says the Interpreter is the guide Christian must follow on his journey.  It’s of course a portrait of Christ, depicted both as travelling companion and as destination, the interpreter par excellence of our pilgrimage.  In knowing and unfolding dark things and standing as if he pleaded with men, Bunyan is saying that Christ himself is the model; for the living Word is God’s final act of interpretation by which his movement towards us is revealed as grace and truth.  Calvin says in the Institutes that the scriptures are like spectacles which bring the world into focus and help us to begin to see things with God’s way of looking.  When Christian leaves the house of the Interpreter, he comes to the wall of salvation and finds the cross> There the burden he carries falls off his shoulders, and he is free. Good interpretation brings liberation because the truth always makes us free.

To be an interpreter is part of the church’s apostleship. It is always a risk. We know how broken and fallible the church is.  But there are God-given ways by which we are kept close to the mind and heart of God, learn to read his ways in what the French spiritual writer Jean-Pierre de Caussade called ‘the sacrament of the present moment’.  They are the old fashioned disciplines that nurture the inner life: prayer, reading the scriptures, meditating, the kind of silence that teaches us to pay attention, spiritual friendship that helps us know ourselves; and not least, enriching our lives through literature, poetry, film, music and the arts which are so often the unlooked-for sources of wisdom in our time. These are among God’s instruments to help us become aware, have insight, be wise and become good evangelists.

The task of the interpreter is not some huge ordeal. It will come to us as naturally as breathing if we simply speak honestly out of our faith, and are ready when asked, as St Peter says, to give a reason for the hope that is within us. When the world is as it is, why should we have hope and not give in to despair? This is where the interpreter is crucial. The story says that Joseph ‘reassured’ his brothers, ‘speaking kindly to them’.  ‘The Lord meant it for good.’  To help others glimpse how, in the changes and chances of the world, ‘love is his meaning’ is the missionary vocation of the church and of each of us individually.  It is to be a dealer in hope and help turn back the tides of human angst. It is not to point to ourselves but to God in Christ, to make room for the Holy Spirit to do God’s work in the lives of others and ourselves. As the hymn we are about to sing puts it so wisely, ‘God is his own interpreter, and he will make it plain.’ 

Durham Cathedral, 28 July 2013.

Genesis 42.1-25; 1 Corinthians 10.1-24