Dismissiveness and Discipleship: Eucharist – Epiphany 2

Preached by the Vicar in St. Cuthbert's and St. John's Churches

(and written before President Trump went rather further than Nathanael)

(1 Samuel 3.1-10; Revelation 5.1-10; John 1.43-51)

Jesus calls to his first disciples - and to us - with two simple words, “Follow me.” First, according to St. John’s Gospel, he calls Simon Peter and Andrew. The next day - where our Gospel reading starts - he calls Philip, who’d been a neighbour of Andrew and Peter. Then Philip tries to make an introduction and takes Jesus along to meet his friend, Nathanael. This is where it seems to go wrong… because Nathanael’s reaction is anything but gracious. Philip tells him, this is the man we’ve been waiting for, the man who’ll really make a difference, it’s all there in the Bible… and he’s called Jesus, and he’s from Nazareth! But all Nathanael can do is to harrumph: “Nazareth!! Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”

The first disciples of Jesus are not a promising lot. A couple of fishermen, one of whom will always prove to be impetuous, rash and useless at living up to promises; a former tax collector; a failed freedom fighter; a couple of ambitious place-seekers; a thief and traitor; and a number of them who never really seem to do much including Nathanael who comes across as the first curmudgeon of the New Testament and then re-appears only briefly in one verse of John chapter 21 (verse 2, if you want to check it) on a fishing expedition. What did Jesus think he was doing? Andrew Greely, American priest, sociology professor and novelist, put it this way:

 Jesus had [a] peculiar taste in friends. You put the whole crowd together and they were not as smart as one of the third rate philosophers in Rome. Maybe some of them could read and write. They were perhaps street smart, but [if] you were going to announce the nearness of the kingdom of God would you surround yourself with folks [like these]? They were utterly insensitive to Jesus’ spiritual message and interested only in the power and prestige they were going to have in his kingdom (which they didn’t understand at all). One of them was a thief and ten of them cowards. Surely, even if he had decided to limit his choice to Galilee, Jesus could have done better? Why these sluggards and nerds? Why indeed? And why do we pretend that our leaders today are better than they were? Patently the first Pope and the first bishops (if we want to use that analogy) were not sacred persons, but inept, often stupid human beings? Why do have to pretend that their successors are any better? Why should they be immune from criticism? Have we missed the point somewhere along the line that the leaders of the church and the followers in the church are fragile, imperfect human beings and that Jesus chose them precisely because he wanted a human church? If he wanted something better, he should have turned it over not to the philosophers in Rome but to the Seraphim.

But, of course, that’s the point. Jesus doesn’t come preaching the Gospel simply so that he can have a Church made up of angels, saints and seraphim. He doesn’t even want a Church where the philosophers have got it all worked out. He wants a human Church, followers who are ordinary people like you and me - like Andrew and Peter, Philip and Nathanael.

There is a point in Jesus calling people like them. Philip himself is not someone that most of us could name as being of prime importance in the Gospels. But right from the start we see his contribution. He might not be able to articulate the finer points of what he believes, but he wants to share it anyway with other people. He takes Jesus to meet Nathanael; he gets miserable old Nathanael up on his feet from under his tree, and he pushes him towards Jesus despite his protests. Later we’ll find him bringing Gentile visitors to Jerusalem to meet Jesus. Still later we get confusion with probably a different Philip in the Acts of the Apostles preaching to Samaritans, reaching still further beyond the fringes of belief as he helps an Ethiopian pilgrim to understand the scriptures; and at the end of the Acts of the Apostles we see this Philip with his family, creating a welcome for St. Paul, and with his church community around him, a testimony to a life of faith-sharing. Whether or not these Philips are the same person, the point is the same. Jesus needs ordinary people who can carry his message - and being clever or articulate isn’t the first qualification. All that’s needed is a willing heart.

But with Nathanael, even that seems to be lacking. Don’t bother me, he seems to be saying to the enthusiastic Philip. And his dismissiveness could be hurtful. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael is blunt about feelings we may harbour: I’m comfortable where I am; I’m comfortable with what I know already… And that can mean, I’m comfortable with my ignorance, and I’m comfortable with my prejudice.

But Jesus needs people like Nathanael, he needs people like us - and thank goodness he uses people like Philip. Philip persists: “Come and see…” He gets Nathanael onto his feet and takes him to Jesus. And even before He reaches him, Jesus hails him: “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” Other translations have it, “Here is an Israelite worthy of the name…” Jesus recognises him as someone who speaks plainly, who doesn’t cover up what he thinks. The name Israel, which was given to Jacob, son of Isaac, is a word that means “he struggles with God.” Jesus can see this straight away. Nathanael - beneath the blunt gruffness - is a man with a good heart, who struggles to know the way... How does Jesus know that, Nathanael asks. And the answer is strange - it’s because “I saw you under the fig tree.” That’s enough for Jesus - and it’s enough for Nathanael to be told. Jesus knows about Nathanael, he knows he can use him, because he was in the right place. But what does that mean?

Can God use me? Am I in the right place? We can convince ourselves that we’re of little use to anyone, never mind to God. We don’t know enough, haven’t got the right skills, have so many commitments, and need to be just where we are now - these can be our excuses. But where is God going to find the people he needs? Where does Jesus find his followers? The answer we get in today’s first reading is that God finds the greatest of the Judges of Israel, Samuel, while he’s still a young boy, and he makes himself heard while that young boy is in bed. Surely God can’t be speaking to Samuel - wouldn’t he speak to Eli the priest first? Samuel can’t comprehend it, until Eli realises what is going on: stay where you are, stay in your bed; know that God has a message which requires not priests and the Temple but which needs you and your open heart - so let him speak to you where you are. That’s why Jesus can call disciples who were simple fishermen working with their nets. He can call us. And he calls Nathanael from under a fig tree. Some commentators say that a wise student of the Jewish Torah would study while sitting under a tree, so that seeing him there gives Jesus the measure of the man. But perhaps Jesus is simply saying, I’ve seen you there - I know you; I need you. The fig tree is what will sum Nathanael up, in the same way that it’s enough for the Gospel writer to say that Philip comes from Bethsaida, and Nathanael thinks he can be simply dismissive of Jesus when he hears that he comes from Nazareth.

But now Nathanael recognises something new: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” He realises that Jesus has the authority of a teacher who can be called Rabbi - and it’s not just that he comes from Nazareth… he comes from God.

And Nathanael comes from under a fig tree… The question for us is, where are we coming from? What is it that sums us up, what are the ignorances and prejudices that we need to leave behind us? Do we realise that already Jesus sees us and calls us? - just as we are…

Perhaps what we need above all in today’s society is to recover our human identity as spiritual beings. We need to recognise that we are more than the sum total of the molecules and atoms from which we are physically created. We are more than all the stuff which we cling to as material possessions. We are made by God, loved by God, and called by God to be his people. We simply need to hear his call, feel his touch, let ourselves respond. It’s not that we should let go of our reason, but it’s to recognise that there are things beyond rationalisation. Believing is not something to be ashamed of. Praying is not something we need to apologise for. We don’t need to worry if we don’t have all the answers, and a faith which expresses itself in humility has much more going for it than the arrogance of certainty. 

Homily for Remembrance Sunday

 (Jonah 3.1-5,10; Hebrews 9.24-28; Mark 1.14-20)

The Gospel reading today gives us the call of Jesus to his first disciples: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” The modern translation doesn’t have quite the resonance of the older version, “Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men.” But they’re saying the same thing. The urgency of the cause - recognizing that the Kingdom of God has come near - and the need for people who will proclaim it, even if it means leaving their livelihood, home and family.

Reading these words in preparation for Remembrance Day I have found myself reflecting on another rallying cry - Lord Kitchener’s, “Your country needs you!” The original in fact was “Your King and Country need You - Enlist Now.” Kitchener then appeared with the words we remember on the front of a magazine, “London Opinion,” at the beginning of September 1914. The famous poster of the Edwardian Field Marshal actually carried the words, “Your country wants you.” Just how to motivate recruits for war was a matter of critical importance for the generals of the time. Patriotism, bonds of friendship (joining up together with your workmates) and a sense of hating the enemy all played their part.

Whatever the motivation of those who fought, today we remember the victims of war. Inevitably we look back to the time of Kitchener and the First World War which saw a greater loss of life for our nation than any other conflict in which we have been involved. Just look at the names on our War Memorials. Too many for the Second World War with its clearer moral purpose. Still more again for the First Great War - and still we agonise over the motivations and morality of that conflict. We look back and honour the courage which took people from work, home and family as they sought to serve their country. But we do more than simply harken back to a history played out a century ago… We recognise the dreadful impact of war on the lives of millions to this day.

Last week I watched the film “American Sniper.” It may seem almost flippant to talk about a movie as we come together and remember the reality of war. But that is what the film attempts to explore. If you haven’t heard of it, you should know that it made more at the box office last year than any other film - and in fact it has grossed more than any other war film in history. We need to pay it attention if only because it drew so many people who paid to go and see it. And then there are the issues it raises… If many of us here think of Remembrance in terms of the First and Second World Wars, it’s a reminder that those conflicts go on - brutally - and they leave their scars not only on the battlefield but in the lives of loved ones left at home and those who finally return.

The film is the story of Chris Kyle, a marksman with the US Navy Seals, who undertook four tours of duty in Iraq. He wanted to serve his country and signed up after the 9/11 attacks. In the course of his military service he was credited with more “kills” than any other member of the American Forces - 160 officially recognized, probably many more than 200. I wasn’t sure I wanted to see the film, afraid that it would glorify the killing. And it was a sniper who killed my great-uncle in the First World War. But there is an arguable moral purpose as to what Kyle was doing: not merely picking off the enemy but seeking to protect those with whom he served. But at a cost - the first people he targets are a young mother who approaches his unit with a rocket propelled grenade launcher and then the child who picks it up after she falls.

It’s a devastating story which takes its toll both on Kyle and his family until he is unclear as to who he is and what he is doing. Eventually he is discharged, he needs psychiatric help, he tries to re-build his life and he seeks to help other veterans too. Until finally one of those veterans, suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, kills Kyle and a friend at a shooting range.

It’s a true story. It doesn’t seek to make an argument. It doesn’t challenge the decisions of nations which take them to war for what they consider the right reasons. But it tells us of the cost.

It’s the cost we remember today. “Your country needs you!” became the rallying cry to recruit so many to the national cause. We may want to challenge our leaders as they deliberate on matters of war and peace. But we can only feel for those who seek to serve - and for the victims: the dead, those who bear wounds both physical and unseen, their families. And as we ask the question “why?” we remember those who suffer in the world’s battle zones today, and those who flee them.

“The Kingdom of God has come near… believe the good news,” says Jesus. But how can we make it a reality? That’s Jonah’s question - who resists the call of God to preach to the people of Nineveh, that city of Iraq still in the news. Yet when he finally goes to them it makes a difference - we’re told they repent and turn from their evil ways. We cannot give up on our resolve that this world should be a better place, that there should be moral purpose, justice and peace for all.

Jesus sees Simon and Andrew casting their nets, and calls to them - and they follow. Further on he calls to James and John, the sons of Zebedee. The Gospel tells us that they were in their boat, “mending the nets.” I’m struck by this observation. The call to us as Christians - as disciples of Jesus - as people who work for a better world - is not merely to cast the net, to be at the sharp edge of things; it’s also to have patience, to be net-menders. And that way we may honour those who have gone before us in their task.

Listen... from Samuel and Nathanael to Benedict and us

The Bible readings we have today are about asking and listening - about being ready to ask and being ready to listen.  What’s going on with this young boy Samuel, an apprentice priest at the Israelite shrine of Shiloh in the days before the building of a Temple in Jerusalem? What does Nathanael have to learn from Jesus? Are we ready to ask and listen?

I started thinking about this because I wanted to know more about Samuel - like what does his name mean? There’s some uncertainty… What we have is the story of how he came to be born. His mother, Hannah, hadn’t been able to have children - and it caused her real pain. In her desperation she’d been to pray at the sanctuary in Shiloh. She promised that if she had a child she would dedicate him to God’s service, but she was so upset that she wept as she prayed - and Eli the priest thought she was drunk. But she told him what she was asking for, he blessed her and she had a son. “She named him Samuel, for she said, ‘I have asked him of the Lord.’”

There’s some disagreement whether the name “Samuel” does mean “asked of the Lord.” But I wonder if it matters. The “el” bit of the name in Hebrew does mean God. And Hannah had certainly asked God for help - and she persisted with her prayer even when things seemed hopeless and people thought the wrong thing about her.

But there’s something more. In Hebrew the name Samuel is Shmuel. The first words used by Jews in prayer are Shema Israel… “Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your might…” They’re the words which Jesus uses when he sums up all the commandments of the Law. Love God… love your neighbour… but first, Hear - Listen.

Samuel’s mother had asked for his birth - she had listened for an answer from God. And Samuel needs to learn how to listen for the voice of God and to ask what he should say and do if he is to be faithful as his servant. Hannah learns the way of sacrifice - she gives up Samuel for the service of God. Samuel needs to learn how to say hard things. We discover that if we read on beyond the point at which today’s reading ends: Eli the priest needs to be told that things are not right in what he is doing - nor in the way his sons are living. And Samuel can only play his part if first he learns to listen - and to ask of God how he should act. So three times he hears his name called - three times he gets up and goes to Eli. But only then does he realise that it is God who is speaking to him - only when he asks does he find out what he must do.

The story of Samuel is one of those Old Testament stories which I learned as a child. Perhaps you did... But we need to see that it’s not merely a story from the past - 3,000 years old. It invites us to look at ourselves - what do we hear? It invites us to ask - what does God want from me?

As part of my prayer discipline this year, I’m trying each day to read part of the Rule of St. Benedict. It’s an ancient Rule drawn up in the middle of the 6^th Century for those monks who followed Benedict in the community life which he established. It’s a way of life still followed by many thousands of monks and nuns - but it has a still wider application to any Christian who wants to ask, how can I serve God and get on with other people? Actually that’s the whole point of the Rule - serve God and manage to live in harmony with other people, even the most irritating of people. The Rule has 73 chapters - but it’s also divided up so that you can read a short section each day and get through it in four months. The idea is that those who follow it should read it three times a year. We’ll see how I do…

But actually all I want to do now is tell you what the first word of the Rule is. It’s “Listen…” “Listen, child of God, to the guidance of your teacher…” That’s where we all need to start. Be faithful in this says Benedict, and you’ll realise his aim:

“… what we mean to establish is a school for the Lord’s service.”

Benedict sees that if we’re to grow as Christians we need to be faithful as disciples - and that starts by listening so that we may learn.

Today’s Gospel reading takes us to the first chapter of St. John’s Gospel. Jesus is calling his disciples. We’ve missed the call of the first three. They’re Andrew and another disciple whose name we don’t know. Jesus simply invites them to come and spend time with him - and they go… they listen. Then Andrew goes and gets his brother Simon and takes him along too. At the point we reach today, Jesus has found Philip and called him to follow him - that means to be a disciple, to listen and learn. And he does. It’s something that Philip wants to pass on, so he goes looking for Nathanael and asks him to come and meet Jesus. But Nathanael is doubtful - he wants to write Jesus off: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip has to persist: “Come and see.” It’s a simple encounter which brings Nathanael to recognise how God is at work in Jesus. He simply needs to place himself before Jesus. And then he realises how Jesus already knows him - Jesus is looking already into his heart.

How ready are we to make that encounter? - to be ready to be quiet and listen? The priest and psychoanalyst, Maggie Ross, has just published a book called, “Silence - a user’s guide.” She has her own way of living - as a hermit, not in a desert or out in the wilds, but at the top of a house in a city. It’s her way of trying to understand her life and the lives of others. What are we doing when we come to church? She says of herself:

“I go to the eucharist as often as I can find one that isn't just a lot of noise. This is extremely difficult to find; so often I have to settle for the least worst of the options.”

And she goes on:

“There are a lot of hungry people out there. The churches are full of noise. There is an idolatry of spiritual experience. The situation is dire.”

I think hers is a pretty extreme position. Hermits themselves are probably not the easiest people to live with - and that’s a good reason for them to be hermits. But there’s a valid point in what she says. Do we just go out looking for what is superficially attractive? Do we stop to ask ourselves what we are truly looking for? Have we already made up our minds - like Nathanael - as to what we want to find? Are we taken in by the words, the music, the warm feelings… what she calls “the noise”?

I hope people come here to St. Cuthbert’s / St. John’s and find warmth, music which they like and words which speak to them. But there’s that other element also which is so important - that I bring myself here to meet God.

What am I looking for? Who am I looking for? Am I ready to listen?

 

 

 (1 Samuel 3.1-10; John 1.43-51)

 

 

 

Where is your treasure? Where is your heart?

(Genesis 15.1-6; Hebrews 11.1-3, 8-16; Luke 12.32-40)

 

 

          Few possessions: a chair,

          A table, a bed…

That’s the start of R. S. Thomas’s poem, At the end. It came to mind for me during the time which my father has been spending in respite care during the last month. It’s a question that so often strikes me when I’m visiting in a residential care home. What are the things that you can take with you, salvaged from a long life? For my father for a four-week stay, it was a small suitcase, a couple of carrier bags, and a jacket – not that he used the jacket, because he never went out. For those staying longer it might not be much more – perhaps their own television, some photos, a special picture and a few books? But there’s no room for anything else.
 

At the end, what can we take with us?... what do we need?
 

When I go to visit my parents, one of the things they ask me is to take away “all those old records of yours.” Nearly 40 years after I left home they still think of them as mine to take away. Perhaps two or three of them are – a couple of Beatles records on 45rpm vinyl, though I don’t think that “Man of Mystery” by The Shadows ever did belong to me. They’ve already had me remove piles of sheet music which I suspect were simply dumped on us when I was learning to play the piano – and those piles now languish on my piano in the Vicarage, unplayed. I admit that there’s probably a lot of my childhood stuff in their loft – old issues of Look and Learn and The Eagle and a lot of ancient school reports and exercise books. The thought of them waiting to be cleared at some point, I find rather oppressive – except for the prospect perhaps of being able to sell some of those old magazines to a collector. But I doubt anything is of any great value. And why didn’t my parents just get rid of them, if they didn’t want them there? Even worse, why have they allowed accumulations of other possessions elsewhere in the house? A garage full of stuff that’s no longer fit for purpose – tools that just don’t work, a bike that might be too old even for Beamish Museum. A bedroom which hasn’t been usable since my brother left home over 30 years ago, because it’s full of his old books, clothes, records and other things which he’s never going to take away to his home in America. He’s left it all behind. He doesn’t need it. It was even, perhaps, holding him back. But they’ve still got it.
 

What do we cling on to? What do we really need?
 

It’s a natural thing to accumulate possessions. But then what do you do with them? That’s a question that was beginning to trouble Abram in today’s Old Testament reading. He’s just won a great victory in battle. He’s been honoured by the mysterious priest-king Melchizedek. He’s seeing the fruits of God’s promise that he would lead him into a land of plenty where he would have riches, flocks and many servants. But what is he going to do with it all? Who can he leave it to? He’s got no children and his natural heir is the otherwise unmentioned Eliezer who lives far off in Damascus. Abram is thinking about his “things.” You can’t take them with you – and he’s not very happy about who might inherit them. But God has different ideas. God’s promise is not about the material things he wants Abram to have – it’s about his purpose for Abram’s life and about the purpose he has for his descendants, the lives that may be touched by God’s presence in them.
 

Abram is anxious about his stuff. Jesus addresses the anxieties of his followers in today’s Gospel:
 

Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions, and give alms. Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
 

What we read today follows on from what Jesus tells his followers about their worries concerning life’s daily needs. Just, don’t worry! Look at the birds of the air which find their food day by day. Look at the flowers in the field which are beautiful just as they are. So consider your priorities. What do you really need in the way of possessions? “For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
 

I don’t think Jesus is saying everyone has to go out and sell everything they have. He’s talking about calling and purpose in our lives, not advocating a course which would lead to economic meltdown if everyone took it literally. But if you’re going to hear the call of God, you need to ask what should I do about it? – what do I really need? What action is God calling me to take?
 

Much of what Jesus says to the disciples seems to tie in with the life they are called to lead. His first words to them are, “Follow me…” And theirs is a life lived on the road – following Jesus, going out on their own with a mission to proclaim his Kingdom. It’s a calling which I find a challenge. I love being a follower of Jesus, but I also love living in that wonderful big, inconvenient Vicarage of mine. Stuff accumulates. I have to ask if it holds me back from doing the things I should. How many pre-occupations do we each have which get in the way of listening to God in prayer, even before we try to make our response to his call? What are the things that might be holding you back on your journey?
 

One of the people who has really made me think in recent months is Pope Francis. Almost immediately after his election he called on Christians to be a “Church of the Poor.” Straight away people began asking what that means in a Church which is so evidently wealthy. But at least something can be seen in the way he lives. He’d already refused to live in the Archbishop’s Palace in Buenos Aires – and he’d travelled not in a chauffeured limousine but by public transport. Now he lives in a simple room of a hostel for clergy and gets driven around in a Ford Focus. I wondered what it had been like for him as he found himself stuck in Rome with only his travelling bags. Wouldn’t I want to go back home to be given a few weeks to pack everything up? Instead he simply went back to the Casa del Clero on a bus with some other cardinals, picked up his suitcase, paid his bill and got on with his new job.
 

“Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Where is your heart? Where is my heart?
 

However we answer, Christ calls us always to be ready for him. “Be dressed for action and have your lamps lit…” Be like the servants waiting for their Master to come back from a late night banquet. They couldn’t just leave the lights on so that he could let himself in. Oil lamps needed to be kept topped up and their wicks trimmed. Elsewhere Jesus asks just what you can expect of the relationship between a servant and his master. But today’s Gospel has a twist. The servants wait up, the Master finally comes home – but then he gets them to sit down, and he serves them, bringing food himself for them to eat. We are called to do the work of proclaiming Christ’s Kingdom. But it is a Kingdom like no other, where the King himself is the servant to his people.
 

Jesus calls us to follow him. Christ commissions us to go out and travel light in proclaiming his Kingdom. And Jesus Christ is the King who serves his people, who sits us down to eat and nourishes us with his love.
 

What more do we need?

 

Feast of St. Matthew, Apostle and Evangelist

Homily for the Eucharist

Sunday 21st September 2008

preached by Rosie Junemann, Reader at St Cuthbert’s Church

Baptism of Megan O’Brien

Lectionary: Proverbs 3. 13-18; 2 Corinthians 4. 1-6; Matthew 9. 9-13


Today’s service feels very much like a family occasion.

That’s not just because Jenny and Danny are here with Daniel and Megan. Nor is it just because their wider families are here to celebrate Megan’s baptism. It’s because we are all gathered here as God’s family in St Cuthbert’s Church. We are all here to welcome Megan into our Christian family and to support her as she takes her first steps alongside us on her journey to faith in Jesus Christ.

Over the years that I’ve been a part of St Cuthbert’s Church I’ve seen many children baptised and growing to maturity as part of the Christian community here. Jenny is just one of those children. I hope that I’ll also be able to see Megan and Daniel sharing in the life of the church and growing in faith in the years to come.

Of course this is Megan’s special day. Today she receives a name and an identity which are special to her.

Every faith, every culture, acknowledges the importance of individual identity and each celebrates that with a special naming ceremony.

On the first Sabbath after a Jewish child is born, her father is called forward at the synagogue to recite a special prayer and to ask blessings for the mother and child. This is when a Jewish girl receives her name. Boys are named on the eighth day after birth, as part of the rite of circumcision.

Hindu babies are named in a special ceremony held on the twelfth day after the child’s birth. The baby is bathed and wrapped in a new cloth and then placed in the father’s lap to be blessed. The priest offers prayers for the protection of the child. Then the father whispers the chosen name into the child’s right ear.

For Megan, Christian baptism marks the start of her life as a child of God – a life with new meaning and new purpose. Although she is still too young to understand it, Jesus has called her to follow him, just as he called Matthew, the tax-collector 2000 years ago. Megan will be signed with the cross, the sign of Christ, to show that she belongs to Christ before anyone else. She will have water poured over her as a symbol of cleansing and new birth. And she will be given a lighted candle to show that she is embarking on her faith journey in the company of Christ, the Light of the World.

Today, Megan receives the assurance of God’s love for her and the assurance of the loving support and encouragement of her parents and godparents – and of the whole Christian community. In welcoming Megan this morning we acknowledge our shared responsibility for her growth in the Christian faith.

The latest edition of the Mothers’ Union magazine ‘Families First’ gives some light-hearted advice on how prospective parents can prepare themselves for the rigours of parenthood.

For example:

‘Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems. First buy an octopus and a drawstring bag. Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out. Time allowed: all morning’!

Or:

‘Go to the local supermarket. Take the nearest thing you can find to a pre-school child – a fully grown goat is excellent. If you intend to have more than one child, take more than one goat. Buy your week’s shopping without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goats eat or destroy’!

Joking aside, the article makes some more serious points, to encourage parents to think about their vision for family life.

“It’s very easy to head out into family life without knowing which way we are going. But how much better to have a destination in mind and to feel secure in where we are heading.”

So parents may want to ask:

What kind of a family do we want to be?
What are the responsibilities of each family member?
How can we make a difference to the community in which we live?
Are we living as God would have us live?

As Megan’s Church family we may need to consider how we can prepare ourselves to uphold her in her new life in Christ. The Baptism service reminds us that she will need the help and encouragement of the Christian community, so that she may learn to know God in public worship and private prayer, follow Jesus Christ in the life of faith, and serve her neighbour, following Christ’s example. ‘As part of the Church of Christ’, it continues, ‘we all have a duty to support her by prayer, example and teaching’.

In a new book ‘Worship Changes Lives’ the writers say:

“Baptism happens to us only once. But we go on attending other people’s baptisms throughout our life. Each time, we are reminded ‘who we are’ and where we belong within God’s family.”

We, as a pilgrim community on the journey of faith, can use this opportunity to consider where we are on that journey – and how we came to be here; to explore again what it means to us to be baptised people and members of a faith community; to renew our commitment to live out life in Christ and to ‘shine as a light in the world to the glory of God the Father’.

As she grows, Megan will need all the loving care a family can give. She’ll need food to nourish her and clothes to keep her warm. She’ll need protection - and discipline - and hugs and kisses – and, occasionally, someone to wipe away tears. She’ll need toys and books and help with her homework. That’s what being a family is all about.

But today Megan has become a member of our church family, too. She needs each one of us to walk beside her in the Way of Christ, to pray for her, to encourage her, and to guide her.

Marty Haugen is a modern American hymn writer. At St Cuthbert’s we probably know him best for his hymn ‘Gather us in’. But he’s also written a hymn about the Church called ‘All are welcome’. This is what he says:

Let us build a house where love can dwell
and all can safely live,
a place where saints and children tell
how hearts learn to forgive.
Built of hopes and dreams and visions,
rock of faith and vault of grace;
here the love of Christ shall end divisions:
all are welcome in this place.

Let us build a house where all are named,
their songs and visions heard
and loved and treasured, taught and claimed
as words within the Word.
Built of tears and cries and laughter,
prayers of faith and songs of grace,
let this house proclaim from floor to rafter:
all are welcome in this place.

That sounds like a very special kind of family to me!