I admit that the relationship between these three is not immediately apparent.
EDF is the 85% French Government-owned energy firm that has agreed to buy British Energy, the private company that owns eight UK nuclear power plants.
The Kingdom of God, of course, is keenly awaited but there are also many signs of it all around us, if only we would open our eyes and take note.
I struggle though, to see any sign of the Kingdom in the EDF acquisition of British Energy.
First, there is the entire ethical question about nuclear power. If we take our responsibility for God's creation seriously, then our consumption needs today should never be met by imposing thousands of years of nuclear waste on generations to come. I'd rather light a candle after dark.
Second, there is the thorny implication of a foreign power having a significant hold over another country's energy supply. In one sense, this is an example of globalisation, a development that in principle could work towards 'one world', although of course we know that in practice globalisation is built upon the concept of exploitation not partnership. So France and Britain may be together on energy - but opposed to whom? Russia? Hardly a strategy for building the Kingdom.
Third, there is the question of the consumer. Where are the interests of the consumer in this deal? Security of supply? Perhaps. Price? Certainly not; for the new company becomes the largest single energy supplier in Britain by a sizeable margin. Energy may be getting more expensive, but think of the shareholder value rising in response to market share increasing...
So there is an inverse relationship between EDF and British Energy on the one hand, and the Kingdom of God on the other. This deal points away from the Kingdom.
So if we think this deal is acceptable, to what extent are our eyes being manipulated to look away from God and God's call to live Kingdom values?
It's a scary thought - because this kind of issue is replicated hundreds of times a day in each of our lives.
So when we do glimpse the Kingdom, let us draw attention to it with as much commitment and energy as EDF and British Energy announce their commerical deals.
The Kingdom needs strong advocates, and God only has us.
Wednesday, 24 September 2008
Sunday, 14 September 2008
Sermon for Holy Cross Sunday, Trininty 17
Who here has been to the London Dungeon? Or to the Tower of London? Or even to the beautiful Warwick Castle?
Yes, I thought most of us would have been.
They may all be wonderful days out, but they also have something else in common. They all feature horrible instruments of torture. There you will find every conceivable device used over the centuries to inflict pain, humiliation and death on victims both guilty and innocent.
Sadly torture isn’t something just of ancient history. More recently, Birmingham was the manufacturing hub of the slave trade and produced all kinds of gruesome things. And we should be angry and not simply embarrassed or ashamed, that there are still companies in this country manufacturing torture equipment for sale abroad.
So if we all agree that torture is horrible and bad, what are we doing celebrating the cross, one of the most dreadful means of execution ever known? And how come we call it holy?
Gospel
This morning’s reading might be short but it is also includes one of the most well known and most frequently repeated pieces of scripture.
A really important Jewish ruler called Nicodemus has just visited Jesus in the night. In their long discussions it becomes clear that Nicodemus wants to believe in Jesus but is struggling to get his head around the implications for his Jewish faith. And so Jesus links himself with an ancient story about Moses. Just as Moses was guided by God to protect the rebellious people of Israel from an invasion of snakes by using a bronze serpent, so Jesus, guided by God, journeyed to the cross and in so doing revealed the means by which we too are protected and may receive eternal life.
John 3: 13-17
“No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
Through God’s grace may these truths be known to each of us this day, Thanks be to God.
So far this morning then we have reminded ourselves that the cross is an instrument of torture, that the cross is a central symbol of the Christian faith but comes in all shapes and sizes, sometimes with Jesus and sometimes without, and that the gospel tradition reveals Jesus as capable of delivering salvation to his people in a very similar way to that of Moses in the Old Testament.
I think it is quite easy at times to forget the reality of Jesus’ death on the cross. It was a brutal, lingering death. The passion stories in the gospels tell us not only of the physical pain but the enormous emotional and spiritual struggles too – and let’s not forget the huge pain for his family and for God as well, watching and grieving.
Yet we know of course that the cross was not the end of the story. God in Jesus transforms the cross from the scene of execution to a symbol of resurrection. And in doing so Jesus shows us how we can be transformed too.
Many of us here I imagine wear a cross as a symbol of our faith – some of us may wear a crucifix with an image of the dying Christ on the cross, others may wear a plain cross, which for me signifies the risen Christ.
Whichever we choose, we are choosing to connect ourselves to this story of transformation – from death to life, from meaningless loss to meaningful gain, from confusion and despair to hope and purpose.
The cross makes sense as a symbol of Christianity, only because of what Jesus did with it. And what Jesus did was only possible because he was both human and divine.
Through Jesus dying on the cross, God in Jesus revealed the depth of his love for us and illustrated God’s undying commitment to us. A commitment that stretches beyond death and into resurrection.
But the cross represents more than this too. It also shows us the route back into a full and loving relationship with God.
God wants to love us into eternal life through an active faith in the life, mission, ministry and death of Jesus.
And so the cross is holy because it acts as a reminder that each one of us is loved to a depth beyond all human experience of love.
And it acts as a reminder of God’s invitation to us, to respond to such love, with all the divine love we can muster, and to pass on God’s love through our own lives and relationships.
And so on this Holy Cross Day, as we celebrate the symbol of the cross, and come together once again in the Eucharist as the community of faith, let us pray that each one of us may know afresh the depth of God’s love for us.
Yes, I thought most of us would have been.
They may all be wonderful days out, but they also have something else in common. They all feature horrible instruments of torture. There you will find every conceivable device used over the centuries to inflict pain, humiliation and death on victims both guilty and innocent.
Sadly torture isn’t something just of ancient history. More recently, Birmingham was the manufacturing hub of the slave trade and produced all kinds of gruesome things. And we should be angry and not simply embarrassed or ashamed, that there are still companies in this country manufacturing torture equipment for sale abroad.
So if we all agree that torture is horrible and bad, what are we doing celebrating the cross, one of the most dreadful means of execution ever known? And how come we call it holy?
Gospel
This morning’s reading might be short but it is also includes one of the most well known and most frequently repeated pieces of scripture.
A really important Jewish ruler called Nicodemus has just visited Jesus in the night. In their long discussions it becomes clear that Nicodemus wants to believe in Jesus but is struggling to get his head around the implications for his Jewish faith. And so Jesus links himself with an ancient story about Moses. Just as Moses was guided by God to protect the rebellious people of Israel from an invasion of snakes by using a bronze serpent, so Jesus, guided by God, journeyed to the cross and in so doing revealed the means by which we too are protected and may receive eternal life.
John 3: 13-17
“No one has ascended into heaven except the one who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that whoever believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him.
Through God’s grace may these truths be known to each of us this day, Thanks be to God.
So far this morning then we have reminded ourselves that the cross is an instrument of torture, that the cross is a central symbol of the Christian faith but comes in all shapes and sizes, sometimes with Jesus and sometimes without, and that the gospel tradition reveals Jesus as capable of delivering salvation to his people in a very similar way to that of Moses in the Old Testament.
I think it is quite easy at times to forget the reality of Jesus’ death on the cross. It was a brutal, lingering death. The passion stories in the gospels tell us not only of the physical pain but the enormous emotional and spiritual struggles too – and let’s not forget the huge pain for his family and for God as well, watching and grieving.
Yet we know of course that the cross was not the end of the story. God in Jesus transforms the cross from the scene of execution to a symbol of resurrection. And in doing so Jesus shows us how we can be transformed too.
Many of us here I imagine wear a cross as a symbol of our faith – some of us may wear a crucifix with an image of the dying Christ on the cross, others may wear a plain cross, which for me signifies the risen Christ.
Whichever we choose, we are choosing to connect ourselves to this story of transformation – from death to life, from meaningless loss to meaningful gain, from confusion and despair to hope and purpose.
The cross makes sense as a symbol of Christianity, only because of what Jesus did with it. And what Jesus did was only possible because he was both human and divine.
Through Jesus dying on the cross, God in Jesus revealed the depth of his love for us and illustrated God’s undying commitment to us. A commitment that stretches beyond death and into resurrection.
But the cross represents more than this too. It also shows us the route back into a full and loving relationship with God.
God wants to love us into eternal life through an active faith in the life, mission, ministry and death of Jesus.
And so the cross is holy because it acts as a reminder that each one of us is loved to a depth beyond all human experience of love.
And it acts as a reminder of God’s invitation to us, to respond to such love, with all the divine love we can muster, and to pass on God’s love through our own lives and relationships.
And so on this Holy Cross Day, as we celebrate the symbol of the cross, and come together once again in the Eucharist as the community of faith, let us pray that each one of us may know afresh the depth of God’s love for us.
Friday, 12 September 2008
Pretty Amazing Grace
Ever since I heard this Neil Diamond track I have been entranced by its simplicity and accuracy as a description of the graceful generosity with which God has reached out to humanity in Jesus.
Now I have no idea what religious or spiritual motivation lies behind the writing or singing of this track. Although the line "You stood beside a wretch like me" certainly has echoes of Newton's Amazing Grace.
What I do know is that it has the potential to generate a response of a spiritual dimension from people with little or no attachment to institutionalised religion.
Which in turn makes the song a vehicle for God's grace.
The idea of grace begetting grace is well established. In 'Round Ireland with a fridge' Tony Hawkes recalls an incident in which having received a gift (I think it was a lift in a van with his fridge) Hawkes asks what he can do in return. The response was simple and direct: pass it on.
Having received a gift, instead of simply returning it to its source, we should instead pass it on to someone else.
That sounds like a good description of Christian discipleship to me.
Now I have no idea what religious or spiritual motivation lies behind the writing or singing of this track. Although the line "You stood beside a wretch like me" certainly has echoes of Newton's Amazing Grace.
What I do know is that it has the potential to generate a response of a spiritual dimension from people with little or no attachment to institutionalised religion.
Which in turn makes the song a vehicle for God's grace.
The idea of grace begetting grace is well established. In 'Round Ireland with a fridge' Tony Hawkes recalls an incident in which having received a gift (I think it was a lift in a van with his fridge) Hawkes asks what he can do in return. The response was simple and direct: pass it on.
Having received a gift, instead of simply returning it to its source, we should instead pass it on to someone else.
That sounds like a good description of Christian discipleship to me.
Tuesday, 9 September 2008
Retreat into the world
I'm back.
I guess an apology is due for the misdescription of the sub-title of this blog as for the past ten days it has certainly not appeared daily.
All sorts of reasons for my absence of course, but the main one is that I was on retreat last week and then Liz, Becky, Rose and I went to Gatwick with Kieran to wish him off on his gap year in Uganda before having a really busy weekend. And then I've been catching up with work of course....So I'll see if I can improve in my regularity for the rest of the week.
But for tonight a short word about my retreat.
Although I am not as regular a retreatant as perhaps I would wish, I do go on retreat about once a year. Yet this was the first time I went completely on my own in a totally unstructured way. That made it both much more difficult and much more rewarding.
More difficult because I have to really try hard not to be occupied with the inevitably tall pile of reading I took with me.
More rewarding because there is a greater opportunity to find true silence on your own, unencumbered by a retreat leaders own thoughts.
So I shaped my day by the regular worship at Launde Abbey, did a bit of walking, a bit of reading and writing, and a very great deal of thinking...
The result was that by being more focused than usual, I felt a great deal more involved in the world around me. That world had smaller horizons but I had a more intense relationship with it - a more real engagement with people and place - and of course, with self.
And so just as the desert fathers found, and just as monastic communities have found for hundreds of years, retreating from the world can provide a very real opportunity to enter more fully into it.
Which begs the question - what are we doing most of the time? Is my normal routine of life totally superficial?
I hope not. But I have returned more committed to prayer as the foundation of all that I do.
On a more practical note, I know some people are having problems with posting comments (which is why there aren't any I imagine!). I am looking into it....
I guess an apology is due for the misdescription of the sub-title of this blog as for the past ten days it has certainly not appeared daily.
All sorts of reasons for my absence of course, but the main one is that I was on retreat last week and then Liz, Becky, Rose and I went to Gatwick with Kieran to wish him off on his gap year in Uganda before having a really busy weekend. And then I've been catching up with work of course....So I'll see if I can improve in my regularity for the rest of the week.
But for tonight a short word about my retreat.
Although I am not as regular a retreatant as perhaps I would wish, I do go on retreat about once a year. Yet this was the first time I went completely on my own in a totally unstructured way. That made it both much more difficult and much more rewarding.
More difficult because I have to really try hard not to be occupied with the inevitably tall pile of reading I took with me.
More rewarding because there is a greater opportunity to find true silence on your own, unencumbered by a retreat leaders own thoughts.
So I shaped my day by the regular worship at Launde Abbey, did a bit of walking, a bit of reading and writing, and a very great deal of thinking...
The result was that by being more focused than usual, I felt a great deal more involved in the world around me. That world had smaller horizons but I had a more intense relationship with it - a more real engagement with people and place - and of course, with self.
And so just as the desert fathers found, and just as monastic communities have found for hundreds of years, retreating from the world can provide a very real opportunity to enter more fully into it.
Which begs the question - what are we doing most of the time? Is my normal routine of life totally superficial?
I hope not. But I have returned more committed to prayer as the foundation of all that I do.
On a more practical note, I know some people are having problems with posting comments (which is why there aren't any I imagine!). I am looking into it....
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