Remembering Christian Unity
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IntroductionI want to thank the members of Rondebosch United on behalf of St Paul's for inviting us to share in your service this morning. It was almost ten years ago that I first set foot inside Rondebosch United Church. A cold July evening when I heard John de Gruchy, with whom I would have a fair bit to do in the future, preach a sermon on justice and reconciliation. So it's a particular privilege to be able to speak in this pulpit. I don't need to tell you of the historic differences between our respective Anglican, Presbyterian and Congregational church traditions, whether at their origins in Britain or as planted here in South Africa. I must confess, however, to an ongoing curiosity at how stubborn these kinds of divisions are, and how they seem to be replicated all over the world. After all, the theological controversies, political debates and national and social divisions that gave birth to our different traditions seem distant in time and space from here. And yet, here we are; about to partake in a holy meal even while holding our vestments, our buildings, our particular names with pride. In my time here in Africa I have learned of the importance of names. When we name a child or an institution we give it an identity-something that expresses our hopes and values, and sometimes our pain. When we name ourselves after an institution, we usually-though not always-identify with its deepest values. Our name sets us apart, makes us different from others. But names can also be perverted. One way in which this happens is when names become perverted by consumerism, where brand-names create new loyalties. And so we identify ourselves as followers of Nike, or Levis, or MacDonalds, literally clothing ourselves (or filling ourselves) with what we name. But names are also to die-for; to kill for. We fight "in the name of" something. And sometimes we fight for the right to name ourselves. In the country of my birth, Northern Ireland, people continue to fight over names. Who is "Irish"? Who is "British"? Who is "loyal" and who "disloyal"? Indeed, that is, on one level anyway, what the struggle in this country was about-the right for all citizens to name themselves "South African". And yet there still are fights about rights to names like "Afrikaner", as recent debates have shown. To our great and eternal shame, names of churches have also been amongst the names people have killed and died for. Don't get me wrong. The last thing I would want to say is that names are "simply" words and that it is silly to fight over them. It is not "silly", but rather an indication of how seriously we take our names. And there are some names that must not be trifled with. Indeed, the third commandment is "you shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain." Stones and memoryNames also speak of intimacy and relationship. Perhaps the most profound use of naming is in intercession, as in our Old Testament lesson this morning. There we read of the bearing of the names of the people of God-or more accurately, the ancestors by which they are named-on stones of memory before the presence of God by the priests. Our lesson comes from the part of the book of Exodus after the great deliverance from Egyptian captivity, and the giving of the law on Mt Sinai, and before the entrance into the land of promise. These kinds of passages will have been familiar to those who follow the lectionary. We have been in the book of Exodus since Holy Week. It is no coincidence that Christians read these stories at this time of the liturgical year. For Easter is our Exodus, and the building of the tabernacle is our preparation for Pentecost, for the coming of the presence of God into our midst in the Holy Spirit. You will recall that Moses has gone up onto the mountain and has received the great law code, the ten commandments, along with many other laws governing the minutae of the community's life-from laws governing cleanness after childbirth to laws governing the kinds of foods which should or should not be eaten together. These laws are not simply regulations, but are markers of identity. They show how Israel is to demonstrate their difference-and the difference of their God. Indeed, they are ways in which their community and their God is named. Now we come to the instructions Moses receives for the building of the tent of meeting: the place where God will meet the representatives of the community-and even the vestments that are to be worn by those involved in the sacred service. But it's a curious passage before us. Why this obsession with fashion? Vestments show that God is present in the midst of the people, and that the people, as represented by the priests, belong to God. Their special nature is meant to show their consecration, their difference, their set-apartness-just as the special laws that were given to the people. At the heart of the priest's vestments are two sets of stones. The first is on the priest's shoulders, on which are inscribed the names of the tribes of Israel. The second set of stones-which are described in the passage following ours this morning-are precious gemstones, mounted in the breastpiece. If you can imagine this: here is the high priest, bearing the names of the people on his shoulders, and also bearing their names before the face of the altar, which represents the very presence of God. But the stones are important for another reason. For not only does the priest bear the people into the presence of God, but the people are also "remembered" before God. And this memory is to be "a continual memory" or a "memorial" forever. The Bible in other places associates stones and memory. We see something similar in the book of Joshua, as the people enter the Promised Land, when they cross the Jordan (which miraculously parts before them as the Red Sea parted before Moses). Joshua chooses twelve people, one from each of the twelve tribes and asks them each to pick up a stone from the midst of the Jordan, to carry them across and bring them on the other side. This was not simply for the sake of the community then, but was particularly for the sake of the those who would come after. To be a memorial to their children forever. One of the most memorable experiences of my time here was the 150th Anniversary of the arrival of Bishop Gray, founder of the CPSA. A special display was set up in the Bellville velodrome, with stations marking the various high (and low) points of our denominational history, and the founding of the various parishes and churches. People from local churches were invited to process (as Anglicans love to do) and to deposit a stone to signify a place of memory for them on that journey. The memory may have been personal, or it may have been a memory in the life of their local community: perhaps a founding, or a forced-removal, or a death. Stones are important. Their solidity signifies stability and permanence. And yet their portability means we can carry them from place to place, planting them ever anew. I'm reminded of the Presbyterian church in which my sister was married, where the very stones used to build the church were imported from Scotland. And here also, while few churches would have gone so far, nonetheless we have stones which tie us to our origins, monuments to our ancestors after whom we are named. As we walk into this church, we are immediately confronted with another kind of stone: the headstone of Johannes Theodorus van der Kemp-the pioneer missionary of the London Missionary Society who represents one important strand of this particular church. And the name of van der Kemp is a name that the people of this church can hold up with pride. Not all stones bearing names are of this kind, however. I think of the memorial to Lord Alfred Milner in St George's Cathedral-a memorial to someone many South Africans would prefer to forget. However, it is there and we Anglicans cannot forget his legacy-however painful and embarrassing for us. This kind of stone, perhaps paradoxically, is a reminder of our brokenness-but also of God's transforming grace. For the name of St George's Cathedral-stones and all-is renowned even as far away as my country of Canada, as a place of memory and resistance. Bread and bondingOur Gospel reading comes from one of the best-loved sections of the Bible. In John 13-17, we see Jesus sharing a last meal with his disciples and talking about his impeding departure and their future mission. He tells them that love is the bond between him and them, and each other. He warns them about the divisive forces that will come from the world-the many other names that will threaten their ability to love in his name. And he tells them of the Spirit, whose name is "Comforter", who will empower them to love in his name. The prayer in chapter 17-which has been called "the high priestly prayer of Jesus"-is the climax of this wonderful section. In some ways this is the true Lord's Prayer-perhaps not the prayer he gives to the church, but his prayer for the church. Traditionally on the Sunday between Ascension Day and Pentecost, the church reads a part of this prayer-a different part each year. The verses we read today form its centre and perhaps we might say its heart. For here is Jesus interceding for his fearful and uncertain followers, holding their names before God; and declaring the Name of God before them. Here is Jesus speaking about his own consecration, even as the priests of the old covenant were consecrated by Moses. He has consecrated himself-indeed that is what his death is about. His death is a kind of consecration. But he is also concerned that the community be consecrated-that they show their difference, their set-apartness, from the world. This is a theme that is carried forth from the previous chapters, where Jesus, not unlike Moses, gives a commandment-but only one. This is: that they love one another as he has loved them. In this they are to show that they are his followers. Just as holiness and obedience to the commandments are inseparable in the Old Testament, so holiness and obedience to the commandment of love is in Jesus. In obedience to this commandment, the disciples also show their unity. But this is not simply a unity of forgetting about our many names, our differences with each other, for the sake of the Name by which we are all called. It is not simply a setting aside of all that makes us different from each other, like a negotiated settlement in which we agree to forget about certain things for the sake of a common goal. Our unity is actually more fundamental than that. It is a unity that becomes caught up in the relationship between the Father and Jesus, in the Spirit. It is a unity that is impossible to conceive apart from the Father and Jesus: "As you Father are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us." We can love each other, because the Father has loved Jesus "before the foundation of the world." That is, the love-relationship between the Father and Jesus is prior to everything-and it makes everything possible. The Eucharist-or in some traditions, the Communion-is our celebration of unity and memory. In the Eucharist, the emblems of memory are not stones, but bread. And the name inscribed on the pieces is that of Jesus. The Eucharistic meal is a permanent memorial, a co-memoration in the life of the church. It is a place where we remember-together, where we are united with all followers of Jesus-even with those who have yet to believe. Because you see, Jesus does not only pray for those gathered there at that time, but for those who would gather in his name in the future. The death of Jesus is the central event in the memory of the church. And this morning, as we come together with our different names, we remember the Name in which we are gathered. But we remember for the sake of our witness to the world. For the extension of the community of which Jesus speaks is nothing other than the restoration of God's creation. ConclusionAnd so to conclude. The gospel does not call us to a unity where our names are simply erased, although we have to recognise that names can be changed-through marriage, divorce or otherwise. Rather, it calls us to look beyond our particular names to the Name in which we are called, and the Name which we all share. Memorials are important, and the holy meal that we celebrate today is a continual memorial of the gift of unity in Christ. And yet our own memorials, those stones built into our walls, continue to help us name ourselves. Will there come a time when we exchange stones, even as today we exchange bread
We can begin again this morning, by praying-by bearing each other's names-before the presence of the Holy One; and by partaking in this celebration of the name that makes us one. Amen. |