Sermon at Licensing of Carolyn Headley as Priest-in-Charge of West Meon and Warnford, and Petersfield Deanery Educational Officer, in St John the Evangelist’s, West Meon: Wednesday, 19th January, 2005
Readings: Heb 6:10-end/Mk 2:23-end
Where has Carolyn come from? You will find the answer to that question in the leaflet that has been circulating in these communities recently. She has had the good sense not tell you everything. There are some things best left for later – after all, good relationships aren’t made in seconds, because they usually take time to grow. But we know enough: the hospital chaplain, the London parish priest, the Oxford Theological College Tutor, as well as some national interests that are going to enrich you here, not just at West Meon and Warnford, but in the deanery, and the diocese – if we let them. We are lucky to have her here, and that means a warm and sympathetic welcome, as well as a readiness to listen to what she has to say, to watch what she gets up to. That means noticing when she is challenging us, as well as when changes get resisted for perhaps not very helpful reasons.
The arrival of a new priest has a habit of posing some questions, not just about who the person is, but about who we are as a community, and where we expect to be going. There are many commentators, arm-chair experts, on our Church at the moment. Hardly a day goes by without some sharp criticism being made in a daily paper. The complaining culture that is now part of modern life even turns some people, who would like to describe themselves as disciples, into consumers – consumers of religious goods that have to be offered on their own terms. There is an understandable tendency to want what is familiar, or what we long for that has been lost or forgotten. But in the end, we are left to cope with ourselves, and each other, where God has put us now. I get reminded of this truth almost every day, because my life is something of a spiritual nomad, constantly travelling through the diocese, in a different church each Sunday; profoundly thankful for the diversity of Christian witness that goes on all the time, and sometimes wishing that we were better at celebrating it than we sometimes are. Christians are not beings in the abstract. We are people of place, rooted in particular environments. I know that Warnford is different from West Meon, and the Petersfield Deanery poses its own challenges. If we were starting from scratch, we might not want quite what we have inherited. But we don’t have that luxury. In many ways, it’s better – and more humbling – to enter into other people’s inheritance, and provide something from our own time to it, rather than arrogantly make things now how we would personally like them, and perhaps get it all wrong in the process.
The two readings we have just heard provide a helpful counterpoint to tonight’s celebration. I didn’t choose them: they (sort of) appeared in the scheme that’s worked out somewhere else. On the one hand, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews encourages his hearers to realize the hope into which they are born; Abraham, yes, the familiar tale of their identity, what is known and talked about; but now something new, Jesus himself, who is our hope, ‘a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul’ (Heb 10:19) – the only time the word anchor is used in the entire bible, as a sign of hope. Then, we have Jesus in the gospel-passage being ticked off for doing something so harmless as plucking some grains of wheat, probably to relieve an immediate hunger, like having a mid-morning snack; not the done thing, however, if you follow the rules, since it’s the Sabbath (Mk 2:23ff.). Whereupon he tells the story of David relieving his extreme hunger and that of his followers, so the tradition goes, by eating the holy bread in the temple normally restricted to the priests (I Sam 21:1-6).
Those two scenes – encouragement to be part of the old but to move on to the new, and firmness about resisting rules when others want to keep them just for the sake of it – are good signposts for the start of a new ministry. Carolyn will want to find out where all of you ‘come from’, and that is going to mean far more than meets the eye tonight! There are big challenges facing the Church everywhere and that is good. It’s nobody’s fault; and to blame someone else for the difficult aspects of these challenges may make us feel better in the short term, but they do not get us anywhere in the long. To be part of the old and familiar is only half the story; there are new things to grasp, for example by finding a better way of using this historic building, instead of being dwarfed by its size. And when it comes to established conventions, what is there to say? Yes, the Church needs corporate disciplines, and we can be too cavalier about disregarding them – like writing off any form of liturgy because we’ve already decided that it must be inaccessible to children - who in my experience love atmosphere, symbolism, music, and, of course, those precious few moments when adults can find it in themselves to stop talking at them! But there are also new ways of finding out what our faith means to us. Here Carolyn may have some interesting ideas about evening courses, study days, and week-end gatherings. It is abundantly clear from the KAIROS process that people are asking questions about the balance of church-activity: do we escape into day-to-day administration, in order to avoid the more challenging questions, such as why we are Christians in the first place – what this means to us now, and how we can reach others – whether they are convenient critics, or honest seekers who may be a bit shy?
Jesus, the Anchor of the Soul, the object of all our worship and prayer, the point of contact at a time of danger or turbulence; I’ve thought of that image a great deal, not just in relation to the tsunami disaster, but concerning our whole life in Christ, and when I have had to face challenges in my own life, my ministry, I have had to learn the humility not to try to predict the future, whether in the interests of a superficial security for myself, or to keep other people somehow happy. Jesus, Lord of the Sabbath, the Eternal Source of our resting in God, lord over (and therefore potential changer of) all our procedures, especially when they have ceased to serve their original function; I’ve also thought of that truth a great deal, especially when I see one moment some ground-breaking initiatives, like Nigh Club ministry in Portsmouth, only to be faced the next moment with the letter of the law somewhere else in such a way that stifles the prophetic spirit. Carolyn’s arrival won’t solve all these questions; instead she poses them. God has a purpose for these communities, that is why he has put you all here. It will be shaped by where we have all come from – and just as crucially, where He intends to lead us.
+ Kenneth Portsmouth
