Love of God and Love of Neighbour

Even though the war between Israel and Hamas is tearing apart some many lives it is remarkable that in the midst of such conflict, there are still voices that are seeking to reach out and offer solutions and hope. The testimony of family members who have spoken about their loss on both sides is harrowing and tragic and so very hard to listen to, yet among all the words small gestures are seen and heard that offer glimpses of hope. As we are confronted by the images we see, our hearts are broken too. What is the answer? Where are we to find a solution that will build the trust and the hope that ensures that justice and peace will emerge from the wreckage that has been visited on so many. The path of peace is indeed a long and twisted one, which makes massive demands. It seems that whenever tentative steps are taken to explore the way of reconciliation opposing voices can easily subvert such a desire to offer a different future. But what is the alternative after so many years of hatred and mistrust?

The question in the gospel today was spoken with just such a tone of dissent. Spoken in order to generate another dispute, another angry argument about who holds authority and power. We look to our religion, our faith, not to generate anger or hate. Not to embed division or separation but to express solidarity and union with one another. Even when we differ or when we dispute with one another, our religion must not be the instrument by which we enforce our differences. Our religion must not be the vehicle which creates vast spaces between us, rather it must be the pathway through which such differences and spaces can be narrowed, overcome, and bridged.

Jesus co-joins the command to love God with the commission to love neighbour. For him they are coincident realities. Jesus later explains what this means with the parable of the Good Samaritan. Two thousand years later we are still trying to get our heads around the implications of that parable for us, so we can see just how long the path of peace takes to walk. How many times have we observed the one fallen on the side of the road and passed by. We can’t claim that we love God if we go and do that to our neighbour. In other words, you can’t have the one without the other and that the two must walk hand in hand, feeding our lives and guiding our steps.

The Image of the Invisible God

The above title invokes the lines from the Christological hymn in St Paul’s letter to the Colossians (see Ch 1 v15). I think it would be well worth reading through the whole of the chapter particularly in the light of the on-going trauma which is unfolding in Gaza. We need all the prayers our congregations can earnestly offer for a swift and just resolution to this dreadful situation.

In his letter, St Paul uses the phrase “image of the invisible God” in reference to Jesus as the Christ, the one through whom we have received redemption and forgiveness of sins and have thereby been delivered from the dominion of darkness and transferred into his kingdom. A kingdom which we understand as a living experience in our minds and in our lives as disciples. In his understanding of this phrase the scripture scholar and theologian NT Wright describes the Christian as someone who has become an image bearer of God’s revealed love at work in the world. Through the incarnation this invisible image has become visible to us in the life of Jesus Christ. He is the one through whom all things can be reconciled, everything in heaven and everything on earth, when he made peace by his death on the cross.

In the gospel today to-day we have perhaps one of the most famous sayings of Jesus. The Pharisees try to trap him, thinking they are putting him on the horns of a dilemma.” Is it permissible to pay tax to Caesar or not?” they ask. In answering, Jesus throws the argument back to them. “Whose image is on the coin?” he asks them, and in doing so, he turns the tables on them. Whose image is on the things which we most value in our lives? If we believe that we are God’s image bearers, then the answer should be very clear to us, and we must respond accordingly. We must begin to do the work which Jesus asks us to do. What then is that work?

We look around us and maybe ask ourselves what it is that I can do? I can’t alleviate world poverty or establish universal peace, but in one sense that is not what we are here to do, because the one who came from God as the first born of all creation has already set in motion those realities by his victory on the cross. Our task is to live our lives with the image of that victory firmly embedded in our outlook in respect of everything we do. The incarnation is the breaking into our lives of the pathway towards resurrection into the new creation. Jesus, as the first born, opens the way and we, in the fulness of time, will follow. What we are to do here in the world is to proclaim the message and to express the expectation of our hope in his truth. It means working with those alongside us for the justice and peace of the kingdom to become accessible to all. It means working to make the image of God recognisable and tangible through our deeds and words. St Paul puts it like this: It is for this I struggle wearily on, helped by his power driving me irresistibly. May it be the power that drives us too.

Walking in the Valley of Darkness

The news this week has of course been dominated by the awful outbreak of violence be- tween Hamas and Israel. I fear that in writing anything about these events, I lay myself open to the criticism of doing so from a viewpoint of ignorance and misunderstanding. Yes, it is true I have no expertise in the history of this enduring conflict, so these thoughts are de facto, made from a standpoint distant from any experience of what it is like to live in such conditions. This I accept, may or may not disqualify them from being relevant, but witnessing the suffering and horror of what is happening, when one feels totally helpless, calls on us to do what we can, even if it may seem to many irrelevant. So, what can we do?

We are gathered around a table. What is it that we are here for? Can we expand our minds to see that today, just as at every eucharist, we have come to share our hopes, our joys, our pain, our sorrows and our sadness. It should not escape our thoughts. We are here to experience a moment that foreshadows and brings into our present lives, an encounter which encapsulates the very essence of what we are about. It is the making present of a memory which illuminates our minds with a mystery that ignites the flame of faith in a God of love within us. The psalm from today’s Mass is perhaps judicious at this time. It speaks about a good shepherd, one who can lead and comfort people even in the harshness of a turmoil that to us seems insoluble. When the two disciples on the road to Emmaus were walking through their own valley of darkness, they experienced the presence of the Risen Lord. They found their consolation in what they had witnessed. Where though did Jesus go when he vanished before their eyes? The theologian Hans von Balthasar says that Jesus vanished so as to be made present in the Church; in you and in me and in all who believe in him. Today in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre Jerusalem, the church built over the site of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, the eucharist will be celebrated, the bread will be broken and shared, and the presence of Christ will be made real in the people gathered there, just as he is made real for us as we gather here in Wollaton, Aspley and Bilborough. This is our koinonia, our communion, our solidarity as children made in the image and likeness of God, with the people of Gaza and Israel, with the people of Ukraine and Russia, and with all who are suffering the turmoil of war as they walk through the dark valley.

It may not sound enough. But I remember a former parish priest of these parts, who when asked in the light of an outbreak of violence and warfare, what his contribution to peace would be responded without hesitation: the celebration of the eucharist. We may feel that sounds strange, but it moves our hearts and minds towards a response we can all participate in and become engaged with. We pray and hope for peace and reconciliation.

The Vineyard turns dark

This will be the third week in which the image of the vineyard takes a central place in the gospel account. Two weeks ago, we heard the story of the labourers who were contracted to work in the vineyard. The first group of workers who were picked early in the morning, felt hard done to by the landowner when he chose to pay them the same amount of money as those who had worked for less time and in much more comfortable conditions. Jesus told the story to emphasise the generosity of the landowner as he provided for the all the daily needs of each of his workers. Last week we listened to the story of the father who asked his two sons to go and work in the vineyard and of how one said “yes” but didn’t go, and the other who said “no” but then did go. The point that Jesus wanted to emphasise here was that the call to act which he gives to each of us, is a moral choice, to be made in a positive and life enhancing way. Today however, we read a very different story, an altogether darker tale in which the vineyard itself becomes a place of danger and violence. It is a story which ends with the death of the son of the landowner. What are these three parables telling us about the vineyard and what it represents?

Each of these stories take place in the vineyard, which by correlation, becomes the landscape in which we all live and move and have our being. God calls us all to be generous with our love, and to be challenged by our calling so that we think deeply about our response. We are to see the vineyard and its environment, which we shape and mould, as being defined by how we carry out our tasks. Am I as generous as I can be with my gifts and talents? Does my commitment to my calling, my moral compass, swing this way and that way, with different emphases, depending on how I feel at any particular time? Do I treat the vineyard as my own possession, to do with as I please. Or do I see the vineyard as a shared and precious resource not to be abused, but to be cherished and cared for?

These are important considerations which will inform how we continue to build and grow in our vocation as disciples. In our coming to knowledge about the identity of the foundation on which our faith is built, the radical approach that Jesus offers reveals something fundamental to us. It is the stone rejected by the builders which becomes the keystone. Just as Jesus pointed out to Peter, as followers of Jesus, we must stop thinking like man and begin to think like God, because God’s ways are not our ways. Jesus shows us a way that is more compelling, more radical. Only when we have worked out and understood the meaning of this and have begun to put it into effect, will the vineyard become the place where a majestic vintage will be harvested.

There is a choice to be made

One could say that the overarching theme which runs through the whole of the New Testament is an answer to the question: Who do you say I am? We have it clearly enunciated by Jesus himself when he gathers his disciples together at Caesarea Phillipi and puts it quite bluntly to them. The rest of the gospels and the remaining books of the NT are in one sense a pathway directing our minds and hearts towards answering the question for ourselves. In other words, it all comes down to a choice. He is who he says he is, or he isn’t. The answer we give is the hinge on which our Christian life turns.

In the gospel today, the father in the story essentially asks his two sons that very same question. Will you go and work in my vineyard, is as we know very well, a euphemism to ask if we are prepared to live out the Christian life in the light of the teachings and deeds of Jesus Christ, our saviour and redeemer. To profess such a belief and to live it is not an easy thing to do, especially in our modern society where so much of the ambiance in which we live no longer appreciates or relates to the gospel message. Think of all the alternative lifestyle choices and wellbeing manuals that are on offer today and you realise how saturated the marketplace is with new age thinking. But that isn’t what the gospel is about. Jesus isn’t just one ethical teacher amongst so many others, and the followers of Jesus knew this. You only have to read that passage from today’s second reading to grasp the immensity of what is on offer. Those words were written down barley a decade and a half after the experience of the cross and Easter. They express a clear understanding of Jesus, of who he was, and of what he had achieved. This shows how, from the earliest years of the Church, Jesus was viewed as being vital and integral to what it means to be human. In our complex and diverse society, I believe his place in the heart of it remains central to its right ordering.

We all must ponder the question and make our choice and we will perhaps prevaricate and toss and turn over our answer, because that’s human nature at work. What we need to be able to articulate, is why we say “yes” to the question the father in today’s gospel asks, and why we continue to say “yes” even if life would be much easier if we said “no”. We say “yes” because deep down, in our hearts, we all recognise the truth of the gospel and find in that truth the very purpose of what we are to be; workers in the vineyard as disciples of Jesus Christ, true God and true man.