All Souls College, Oxford … a reminder of the ‘Faithful Departed’ on 2 November (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Patrick Comerford
Sunday week [2 November 2014] is the Fourth Sunday before Advent (Proper 26). The readings in the Revised Common Lectionary that Sunday are: Joshua 3: 7-17; Psalm 107: 1-7, 33-37; I Thessalonians 2: 9-13; Matthew 23: 1-12.
The Church of Ireland Directory says the “readings for All Saints’ Day may be preferred.” All Saints’ Day is the previous day (1 November), and the readings are: Joshua 31: 31-34; Psalm 34: 1-10; Revelation 7: 9-17 or I John 3: 1-3; Matthew 5: 1-12.
In the calendar of many member churches of the Anglican Communion, including the Church of England (Common Worship), the Church in Wales, the Scottish Episcopal Church and the Episcopal Church, but not the Church of Ireland, 2 November is also observed as All Souls’ Day (Readings: Lamentations 3: 17-26, 31-33 or Wisdom 3: 1-9; Psalm 23 or 27: 1-6, 16, 17; Romans 5: 5-11 or I Peter 1: 3-9; John 5: 19-25 or John 6: 37-40).
Which readings are being used in your church or parish that Sunday?
How is 2 November being marked in your parish or church?
If All Saints’ Day is not being marked, how do you celebrate the saints in your parish or church?
What are your feelings about the commemoration of All Souls?
It is interesting that All Souls is the name of one of the leading evangelical churches in London, All Souls’ Church, Langham Place, where the Revd John Stott was first a curate (1945-1950) and then the Rector (1950-1975). All Souls College in Oxford (officially known as the Warden and the College of the Souls of All Faithful People Deceased in the University of Oxford) is a unique college, where members automatically become fellows and where there are no undergraduates. It was founded by Henry VI and Archbishop Henry Chichele of Canterbury for a Warden and forty fellows, all in Holy Orders. All services in the college chapel are said, and the chapel does not have an organ or a choir.
[Discussion]
All Souls’ Day was marked in the Chapel of Pusey House last year with Fauré’s Requiem (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Matthew 23: 1-12
1 Τότε ὁ Ἰησοῦς ἐλάλησεν τοῖς ὄχλοις καὶ τοῖς μαθηταῖς αὐτοῦ 2 λέγων, Ἐπὶ τῆς Μωϋσέως καθέδρας ἐκάθισαν οἱ γραμματεῖς καὶ οἱ Φαρισαῖοι. 3 πάντα οὖν ὅσα ἐὰν εἴπωσιν ὑμῖν ποιήσατε καὶ τηρεῖτε, κατὰ δὲ τὰ ἔργα αὐτῶν μὴ ποιεῖτε: λέγουσιν γὰρ καὶ οὐ ποιοῦσιν. 4 δεσμεύουσιν δὲ φορτία βαρέα [καὶ δυσβάστακτα] καὶ ἐπιτιθέασιν ἐπὶ τοὺς ὤμους τῶν ἀνθρώπων, αὐτοὶ δὲ τῷ δακτύλῳ αὐτῶν οὐ θέλουσιν κινῆσαι αὐτά. 5 πάντα δὲ τὰ ἔργα αὐτῶν ποιοῦσιν πρὸς τὸ θεαθῆναι τοῖς ἀνθρώποις: πλατύνουσιν γὰρ τὰ φυλακτήρια αὐτῶν καὶ μεγαλύνουσιν τὰ κράσπεδα, 6 φιλοῦσιν δὲ τὴν πρωτοκλισίαν ἐν τοῖς δείπνοις καὶ τὰς πρωτοκαθεδρίας ἐν ταῖς συναγωγαῖς 7 καὶ τοὺς ἀσπασμοὺς ἐν ταῖς ἀγοραῖς καὶ καλεῖσθαι ὑπὸ τῶν ἀνθρώπων, Ῥαββί. 8 ὑμεῖς δὲ μὴ κληθῆτε, Ῥαββί, εἷς γάρ ἐστιν ὑμῶν ὁ διδάσκαλος, πάντες δὲ ὑμεῖς ἀδελφοί ἐστε. 9 καὶ πατέρα μὴ καλέσητε ὑμῶν ἐπὶ τῆς γῆς, εἷς γάρ ἐστιν ὑμῶν ὁ πατὴρ ὁ οὐράνιος. 10 μηδὲ κληθῆτε καθηγηταί, ὅτι καθηγητὴς ὑμῶν ἐστιν εἷς ὁ Χριστός. 11 ὁ δὲ μείζων ὑμῶν ἔσται ὑμῶν διάκονος. 12 ὅστις δὲ ὑψώσει ἑαυτὸν ταπεινωθήσεται, καὶ ὅστις ταπεινώσει ἑαυτὸν ὑψωθήσεται.
Translation (NRSV):
23 Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples, 2 ‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; 3 therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practise what they teach. 4 They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. 5 They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. 6 They love to have the place of honour at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, 7 and to be greeted with respect in the market-places, and to have people call them rabbi. 8 But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. 9 And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father – the one in heaven. 10 Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. 11 The greatest among you will be your servant. 12 All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.
Putting the Gospel reading in context:
In this community, this reading may come to some of us as an important reminder that ordained ministry is not a career path or career option. Instead, we are called to be servants (verse 11). The word used for servant here is διάκονος, a reminder, hopefully, that being a deacon is foundational for ordained ministry, and that service, not honour and privilege, is at the heart of future ministry.
You may also be encouraged by Christ telling the disciples, according to the NRSV version, that “you are all students” (verse 8). However, the original Greek here is ἀδελφοί (singular, ἀδελφός), better translated, perhaps, as “brothers and sisters.” We are all brothers and sisters in Christ, and children of the one God and Father of all.
However, that may not help you in working on a sermon in a parish setting for that Sunday. It is important in looking at a Gospel reading on Sunday morning, to also take account of the other readings in the Old Testament, Psalm and Epistle.
Joshua 3: 7-17
In our Old Testament reading, we see the connection between belief and action, but thinking and living. God tells Joshua that he will give a sign to show the people that God will be with him as he was with Moses. Joshua is to give the order to the priests and he tells the people that what they will see will show that God is with them. They believe and show their trust in God not just through intellectual assent, but through their actions, as they dare to cross over the River Jordan as they once crossed through the waters of the Red Sea.
Psalm 107: 1-7, 33-37
In this psalm, the pilgrims travelling to Jerusalem thank God for their escape from various dangers. Their faith in God is a lived, truly living communal experience, and not merely about individual intellectual assent.
I Thessalonians 2: 9-13
Saint Paul reminds the members of the Church in Thessaloniki that they are witnesses to not only in their beliefs but in the way they live their lives and in their conduct towards the new Church members. Like a father teaching his children, he urges and encourages them, and pleads with them to walk in God’s ways, so that God’s word becomes made active in those who believe.
Looking at the Gospel reading (Matthew 23: 1-12):
We are still in the Temple with Christ in Holy Week. There he has silenced his principal critics, the Sadducees and the Pharisees, showing their lack of understanding of the core message of the Bible and the Law. In this morning’s reading, he turns to speak “to the crowds and to his disciples” about the scribes and the Pharisees, and their attitude to and teaching of the Law and the Bible.
Christ tells the people in the Temple that the Pharisees have authority to teach the Law, and he concedes that they are in an unbroken chain that goes back to Moses, for they “sit on Moses’ seat.”
But while honouring their teachings, they should be wary of their practices. In their interpretation the Law, they impose heavy burdens on others, yet do not follow the Law themselves.
Externally, they appear pious. They wear teffelin or phylacteries, small, black, leather boxes, on their left arms and foreheads with four Biblical passages as a “sign” and “remembrance” that God liberated their ancestors from slavery in Egypt (Exodus 13: 1-10; Exodus 13: 11-16; Deuteronomy 6: 4-9; and Deuteronomy 11: 13-21. They also have lengthy fringes or tassels on their prayer shawls (tallitot, singular talit), as visible reminders of the 613 commandments in the Law (see Numbers 15: 38, Deuteronomy 22: 12).
In verses 6-7, Christ gives four examples of vanity: they love places of honour at banquets, the best seats in the synagogues, being greeted with respect publicly, and being called “Rabbi,” which means master and later becomes a title for the leader in a synagogue.
In verses 8-10, we are warned about the danger of loving honorific titles, such as “teacher,” “father” and instructor, for we are all students, we are all brothers and sisters, children of God and disciples.
Yet I am a teacher, a father and a tutor. Is Christ warning against the position or against seeking honours that have not been earned?
It is a truism that parents must earn the respect of their children, not seek or demand it. Most parents have, at one time or another, said to their children: “Do what I tell you, not what I do.” Needless to say, my sons, when they were children, never listened to me when I said something so silly.
All parents know, on the other hand, that actions speak louder than words.
Perhaps this passage in Matthew 23 may reflect later tensions between the Jewish synagogue and the new Christian community. But, in Christ’s own days, people would have expected a Pharisee to be a careful observer of the Law. Unlike the Temple priests and village elders, the Pharisees did not have a high social status.
Before the destruction of the Second Temple in 70 AD, the Pharisees were a relatively modest group of people without political power and tried live out Jewish tradition and the Torah seriously conscientiously in their daily lives. The Pharisees saw the Law as applying not only to every aspect of public life, but to every aspect of private, domestic, daily life too.
There is another well-worn statement: “It’s not where you start out but where you end up.” The Pharisees started out with good intentions, but some of them ended by seeking to be great, seeking to be exalted (verses 11-12). They started out concerned for holiness but some ended in exclusion. They started out seeking to recognise God in all aspects of life, but some of them ended by seeking recognition at banquets and in the synagogue (verses 6-7).
Christ calls us to live in such a way that they can say to the world: “Do as we say and as we do.”
Who do we teach this? By remembering that in “the greatest among you will be your servant” (verse 11) and that “All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted” (verse 12).
But the problem here is not so much a conflict between words and actions, but the need to make the connection between words and actions. Words must mean what they point to, and the actions must be describable in words.
Most of us, as children, learned by watching how adults behave, we learn as members of the human community. As a child, when I needed to learn how to use a fork, I did not need a lecture on the hygienic and sanitary contribution that have benefitted European lifestyles since the introduction of the fork through Byzantium and Venice to mediaeval Europe; I did not need an engineering lecture on the practicalities and difficulties of balancing the prongs and the handle; I would have been too young to read a delightful chapter by Judith Herrin one of her books on how the fork-using Byzantines were much more sophisticated than their western allies or rivals who ate with their hands (Judith Herrin, Byzantium – the Surprising Life of a Mediaeval Empire, London: Allen Lane, 2007, Chapter 19).
The same principle applies to everything else, as Andrew Davison of Westcott House, Cambridge, points out in his contribution to Imaginative Apologetics (London: SCM Press, 2011), the same principle applies to how we learn about everything else in life – cups, books, bicycles and so on. He might have added love – the love of God and the love of one another.
Ludwig Wittgenstein’s steps in the Great Palm House in the National Botanic Gardens, Glasnevin, Dublin (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)
I was visiting the National Botanic Gardens in Glasnevin last Friday afternoon [17 October 2014]. There, in the Great Palm House are the steps on which the great 20th century German philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein regularly sat in contemplation and thought while he was living in Dublin in the late 1940s.
Even if you find Wittgenstein difficult to read – and a good introduction is available in Fergus Kerr’s Theology after Wittgenstein (London: SPCK, 1997) – theologians can find useful insights in his writings.
Wittgenstein teaches us that thinking and language must be inter-connected. “Words have meaning only in the stream of life,” he says. Thinking requires language, language is a communal experience, and, as Davison points out, we learn language as members of a human community and through induction into common human practices.
We can talk about prayer, forgiveness, and most of all about love itself, to others. But if it only remains talk and has no application, then the words have no meaning.
Let us remind ourselves about the previous Sunday’s Gospel reading (Matthew 22: 34-46) – Christ tells the lawyer sent by the Pharisees and the Sadducees that the greatest commandments are to “love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind” and to “love your neighbour as yourself.” And, he adds: “On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”
If the Pharisees, the Sadducees and the young lawyer were teaching and doing in conformity with these laws, then there would have been an unassailable ring of authenticity to their teaching.
We may try teach the two great commandments, but we only teach them with credibility when we live them out in our lives. There must be no gap that separates what we teach and how we live out what we teach in our lives.
‘As we rejoice in their triumphs, we may be sustained by their example and fellowship’ … All Souls College, Oxford (Photograph: Patrick Comerford)
Collect:
Almighty and eternal God,
you have kindled the flame of love in the hearts of the saints:
Grant to us the same faith and power of love,
that, as we rejoice in their triumphs,
we may be sustained by their example and fellowship;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Post Communion Prayer:
Lord of heaven,
in this Eucharist you have brought us near
to an innumerable company of angels
and to the spirits of the saints made perfect.
As in this food of our earthly pilgrimage
we have shared their fellowship,
so may we come to share their joy in heaven;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Next: Matthew 25: 1-13.
Canon Patrick Comerford is Lecturer in Anglicanism, Liturgy and Church History, the Church of Ireland Theological Institute. These notes were prepared for a Bible study with MTh students in a tutorial group on 22 October 2014.
22 October 2014
‘With those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in the world’ … finding
a home for the Spiritually Homeless
Inside Saint Bartholomew’s Church, Ballsbridge, Dublin … why is ‘traditional church’ appealing to ‘Millennial’ Christians who know what it is to be ‘spiritually homeless’? (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)
Patrick Comerford
When Jesus came to Golgotha, they hanged Him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet, and made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days, and human flesh was cheap.
When Jesus came to Birmingham, they simply passed Him by.
They would not hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die;
For men had grown more tender, and they would not give Him pain,
They only just passed down the street, and left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried, ‘Forgive them, for they know not what they do,’
And still it rained the winter rain that drenched Him through and through;
The crowds went home and left the streets without a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall, and cried for Calvary.
– ‘Indifference,’ by the Revd GA Studdert Kennedy (‘Woodbine Willie,’ 1883-1929)
At the end of last week, the Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, the Very Revd Dermot Dunne, slept out in the open for the night to draw attention to the work of Focus Ireland and the plight of homeless people in Dublin.
The following morning [18 October 2014], he was interviewed by Marian Finucane on RTÉ and spoke eloquently and with tempered passion about his work with homeless charities in London before he returned to Ireland and ministry in the Church of Ireland.
The problem of homelessness in Dublin has increased dramatically due to the recent economic problems and the austerity measures that followed in their wake. Focus Ireland estimates that about 5,000 people are homeless at any one time in Ireland.
The most recent statistics on homelessness in Ireland are from census night on 10 April 2011. The figures are probably outdated by now, but we can imagine that the problem is getting worse rather than improving. Those figures show 3,808 people were in accommodation providing shelter for homeless people or were sleeping rough. Of these, 62% (or 2,375) were living in Dublin that night, and 644 (17%) were under the age of 20; 15% or 553 people were non-Irish, compared to 12% of the total population.
Focus Ireland estimates at least 87 people are sleeping rough in Dublin on any one night.
The Dean’s big sleep-out began at 7 p.m. on Friday night and ended at 6.30 a.m. on Saturday morning. I imagine he had the prayerful and spiritual support of many of his clerical colleagues in the diocese, and the support of parishes throughout Dublin and Glendalough.
I know many parishes work quietly and gently with homeless people, and many a person sleeping rough has found a safe shelter for a night in church porch or in church grounds.
Of course, a safe shelter is no substitute for a stable home. And at times, I wonder if the people who slept in the church porch on Saturday night presented themselves at the church door on Sunday morning would they find the same warm welcome that I have come to know as a visiting priest with a high profile and a recognisable face.
If – and I am only saying if – homeless people find they are not welcome in our churches and cathedrals throughout the Church of Ireland, then what is the point of priests like Dean Dermot raising funds and raising awareness around this issue?
We remind ourselves liturgically, time and again, that as a community of faith our origins are among homeless people, strangers and sojourners – a wandering Aramaean, liberated slaves who wander in the wilderness for 40 years long, exiles in Babylon who knew that the land was not their home, a homeless couple with their child, fleeing from Bethlehem through the wilderness to the land where their ancestors once were salves, the Son of Man who has no places to lay down his head (Matthew 8: 20; Luke 9: 58) …
The Dublin and Glendalough Diocesan Synod began earlier this afternoon [21 October 2014] in Taney Parish, and I am missing one of the student-organised Harvest Thanksgiving Services. This morning, they collected food and other goods for the homeless in Dublin and to support the work of the Mendicity Institution.
Occasionally, I see people who are dressed or look different having to explain themselves on the way into a church or cathedral. At this synod this evening, I am wondering if the homeless cannot find a welcome in our churches and cathedrals, how we can say they are welcoming homes for the family and children of God.
‘Spiritual homelessness’
Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin … many ‘Millennial Christians’ have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)
But there is another form of homelessness that also worries me and that should be of particular concern to all in the Church. Perhaps I should call this “spiritual homelessness.”
There are people who have been pushed to the margins in our parishes because of their differences and their questions. Their questions are regarded as difficult. But these questions do not indicate that they have abandoned their faith. Indeed, perhaps their persistence in questioning shows that they have clung to the faith despite all our moralising and our propensity to being judgemental in the Church.
They are on a journey through a spiritual wilderness. But do we assure them on enough occasions that God is accompanying them on that journey and that there is a “Promised Land” awaiting them.
They may question God, they may challenge God; they may question the Church, they may challenge the Church; but they are on a journey, and so often the response in the Church seems to be to abandon the spiritually homeless.
A survey in the US last year by the Barna Group shows that about 30% of people under 30 have no religious affiliation. Many of them drop out of going to church after having gone regularly, and two large segments of these people say either Christianity just makes no sense to them or they have a bad experience in the church. They turn away as they see how the church treats women and gays and people of different faiths. They have become spiritually homeless.
The good news about this generation of 20 and 30-somethings is their strong desire to connect to the traditions of the church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement.
They are not at all convinced by the efforts of an older generation of clergy of a particular type to make the Church appear culturally trendy and fashionable. In that, they too are made spiritually homeless when they see what some efforts at “Fresh Expressions” of Church try to offer them.
In their critique of “Fresh Expressions,” Andrew Davison of Westcott House, Cambridge and Alison Milbank of Nottingham University argue for the vitality of the parish, both for mission and for discipleship.
Alison was recently visited the Church of Ireland Theological Institute to speak at a conference on ‘Catholic Evangelism’ organised by Affirming Catholicism. In For the Parish: A Critique of Fresh Expressions (2010), these two theologians convincingly say that the forms of the Church are to be an embodiment of our faith and should therefore be more determined by our theological traditions than by the surrounding culture. They show that the traditions of the parish church represent ways in which time, space, community are ordered in relation to God and the Gospel.
In his book, You Lost Me, David Kinnaman of the Barna Group divides these once church-going “Millennials” into three spiritual journeys, which he labels “nomads,” “prodigals” and “exiles.”
The Nomads are 18- to 29-year-olds with a Christian background who walk away from church engagement but still consider themselves Christians.
The Prodigals are those who have lost their faith. They once claimed a personal faith, but say they are fairly certain of never ever returning to the Christian faith.
The Exiles struggle with the Christian faith and have a tough time finding a place in a church setting. They have chosen to remain within the church but feel “lost” between their commitments to the Church and their desire to stay connected with the world. They often say they remain Christian and continue to go to church, but they find church is a difficult place for them to live out their faith. They want a way to follow Christ in their day-to-day lives.
Many of the Exiles say God is more at work outside the Church than inside the Church, and they want to be a part of that.
The report finds millions of Millennial Christians are concerned for the future of their faith. They have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement. A large number say they desire “a more traditional faith, rather than a hip version of Christianity.”
None of these three groups is fully at home in the Church today. They are spiritual exiles and spiritually homeless.
Yet, I was not surprised as I took part in Choral Evensong in Christ Church Cathedral last Thursday, during my week as canon-in-residence in the cathedral, that more than 80 people were present, and that over half of these were in “Millennial” age group, between 18 and 29.
Contrary to the trendy perspective, traditional church worship, with Choral Evensong, including the Readings, Canticles, preces, and versicles and responses made sense to this generation, and they did not need to be spoken down to.
The nomads, prodigals and exiles somewhere other than home. They are travellers, sojourners and spiritually homeless. They seek spontaneity, participation, adventure and relationships, but they often offered featureless programmes and moralistic content. They are more willing to be challenged than most church leaders are willing to challenge them.
What would a Church for the Spiritually Homeless look like in the Diocese of Dublin and Glendalough today? If we abandoned moralising and being judgmental but continued to offer the traditional riches of the Church, what would happen?
In a poem about Advent in Raids on the Unspeakable, Thomas Merton (1915-1968) wrote that Christ mysteriously hides himself in those for whom here is no room:
Into this world,
this demented inn,
in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ has come uninvited.
But because he cannot be at home in it,
because he is out of place in it,
and yet he must be in it,
his place is with those others for whom there is no room.
His place is with those who do not belong,
who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak,
those who are discredited,
who are denied the status of persons,
tortured, excommunicated,
with those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in the world.
He is mysteriously present in those
for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst.
It is in these that he hides himself,
for whom there is no room.
Patrick Comerford
When Jesus came to Golgotha, they hanged Him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet, and made a Calvary;
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns, red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days, and human flesh was cheap.
When Jesus came to Birmingham, they simply passed Him by.
They would not hurt a hair of Him, they only let Him die;
For men had grown more tender, and they would not give Him pain,
They only just passed down the street, and left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried, ‘Forgive them, for they know not what they do,’
And still it rained the winter rain that drenched Him through and through;
The crowds went home and left the streets without a soul to see,
And Jesus crouched against a wall, and cried for Calvary.
– ‘Indifference,’ by the Revd GA Studdert Kennedy (‘Woodbine Willie,’ 1883-1929)
At the end of last week, the Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin, the Very Revd Dermot Dunne, slept out in the open for the night to draw attention to the work of Focus Ireland and the plight of homeless people in Dublin.
The following morning [18 October 2014], he was interviewed by Marian Finucane on RTÉ and spoke eloquently and with tempered passion about his work with homeless charities in London before he returned to Ireland and ministry in the Church of Ireland.
The problem of homelessness in Dublin has increased dramatically due to the recent economic problems and the austerity measures that followed in their wake. Focus Ireland estimates that about 5,000 people are homeless at any one time in Ireland.
The most recent statistics on homelessness in Ireland are from census night on 10 April 2011. The figures are probably outdated by now, but we can imagine that the problem is getting worse rather than improving. Those figures show 3,808 people were in accommodation providing shelter for homeless people or were sleeping rough. Of these, 62% (or 2,375) were living in Dublin that night, and 644 (17%) were under the age of 20; 15% or 553 people were non-Irish, compared to 12% of the total population.
Focus Ireland estimates at least 87 people are sleeping rough in Dublin on any one night.
The Dean’s big sleep-out began at 7 p.m. on Friday night and ended at 6.30 a.m. on Saturday morning. I imagine he had the prayerful and spiritual support of many of his clerical colleagues in the diocese, and the support of parishes throughout Dublin and Glendalough.
I know many parishes work quietly and gently with homeless people, and many a person sleeping rough has found a safe shelter for a night in church porch or in church grounds.
Of course, a safe shelter is no substitute for a stable home. And at times, I wonder if the people who slept in the church porch on Saturday night presented themselves at the church door on Sunday morning would they find the same warm welcome that I have come to know as a visiting priest with a high profile and a recognisable face.
If – and I am only saying if – homeless people find they are not welcome in our churches and cathedrals throughout the Church of Ireland, then what is the point of priests like Dean Dermot raising funds and raising awareness around this issue?
We remind ourselves liturgically, time and again, that as a community of faith our origins are among homeless people, strangers and sojourners – a wandering Aramaean, liberated slaves who wander in the wilderness for 40 years long, exiles in Babylon who knew that the land was not their home, a homeless couple with their child, fleeing from Bethlehem through the wilderness to the land where their ancestors once were salves, the Son of Man who has no places to lay down his head (Matthew 8: 20; Luke 9: 58) …
The Dublin and Glendalough Diocesan Synod began earlier this afternoon [21 October 2014] in Taney Parish, and I am missing one of the student-organised Harvest Thanksgiving Services. This morning, they collected food and other goods for the homeless in Dublin and to support the work of the Mendicity Institution.
Occasionally, I see people who are dressed or look different having to explain themselves on the way into a church or cathedral. At this synod this evening, I am wondering if the homeless cannot find a welcome in our churches and cathedrals, how we can say they are welcoming homes for the family and children of God.
‘Spiritual homelessness’
Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin … many ‘Millennial Christians’ have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church (Photograph: Patrick Comerford, 2014)
But there is another form of homelessness that also worries me and that should be of particular concern to all in the Church. Perhaps I should call this “spiritual homelessness.”
There are people who have been pushed to the margins in our parishes because of their differences and their questions. Their questions are regarded as difficult. But these questions do not indicate that they have abandoned their faith. Indeed, perhaps their persistence in questioning shows that they have clung to the faith despite all our moralising and our propensity to being judgemental in the Church.
They are on a journey through a spiritual wilderness. But do we assure them on enough occasions that God is accompanying them on that journey and that there is a “Promised Land” awaiting them.
They may question God, they may challenge God; they may question the Church, they may challenge the Church; but they are on a journey, and so often the response in the Church seems to be to abandon the spiritually homeless.
A survey in the US last year by the Barna Group shows that about 30% of people under 30 have no religious affiliation. Many of them drop out of going to church after having gone regularly, and two large segments of these people say either Christianity just makes no sense to them or they have a bad experience in the church. They turn away as they see how the church treats women and gays and people of different faiths. They have become spiritually homeless.
The good news about this generation of 20 and 30-somethings is their strong desire to connect to the traditions of the church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement.
They are not at all convinced by the efforts of an older generation of clergy of a particular type to make the Church appear culturally trendy and fashionable. In that, they too are made spiritually homeless when they see what some efforts at “Fresh Expressions” of Church try to offer them.
In their critique of “Fresh Expressions,” Andrew Davison of Westcott House, Cambridge and Alison Milbank of Nottingham University argue for the vitality of the parish, both for mission and for discipleship.
Alison was recently visited the Church of Ireland Theological Institute to speak at a conference on ‘Catholic Evangelism’ organised by Affirming Catholicism. In For the Parish: A Critique of Fresh Expressions (2010), these two theologians convincingly say that the forms of the Church are to be an embodiment of our faith and should therefore be more determined by our theological traditions than by the surrounding culture. They show that the traditions of the parish church represent ways in which time, space, community are ordered in relation to God and the Gospel.
In his book, You Lost Me, David Kinnaman of the Barna Group divides these once church-going “Millennials” into three spiritual journeys, which he labels “nomads,” “prodigals” and “exiles.”
The Nomads are 18- to 29-year-olds with a Christian background who walk away from church engagement but still consider themselves Christians.
The Prodigals are those who have lost their faith. They once claimed a personal faith, but say they are fairly certain of never ever returning to the Christian faith.
The Exiles struggle with the Christian faith and have a tough time finding a place in a church setting. They have chosen to remain within the church but feel “lost” between their commitments to the Church and their desire to stay connected with the world. They often say they remain Christian and continue to go to church, but they find church is a difficult place for them to live out their faith. They want a way to follow Christ in their day-to-day lives.
Many of the Exiles say God is more at work outside the Church than inside the Church, and they want to be a part of that.
The report finds millions of Millennial Christians are concerned for the future of their faith. They have a strong desire to connect to the traditions of the Church and feel a sense of excitement about church involvement. A large number say they desire “a more traditional faith, rather than a hip version of Christianity.”
None of these three groups is fully at home in the Church today. They are spiritual exiles and spiritually homeless.
Yet, I was not surprised as I took part in Choral Evensong in Christ Church Cathedral last Thursday, during my week as canon-in-residence in the cathedral, that more than 80 people were present, and that over half of these were in “Millennial” age group, between 18 and 29.
Contrary to the trendy perspective, traditional church worship, with Choral Evensong, including the Readings, Canticles, preces, and versicles and responses made sense to this generation, and they did not need to be spoken down to.
The nomads, prodigals and exiles somewhere other than home. They are travellers, sojourners and spiritually homeless. They seek spontaneity, participation, adventure and relationships, but they often offered featureless programmes and moralistic content. They are more willing to be challenged than most church leaders are willing to challenge them.
What would a Church for the Spiritually Homeless look like in the Diocese of Dublin and Glendalough today? If we abandoned moralising and being judgmental but continued to offer the traditional riches of the Church, what would happen?
In a poem about Advent in Raids on the Unspeakable, Thomas Merton (1915-1968) wrote that Christ mysteriously hides himself in those for whom here is no room:
Into this world,
this demented inn,
in which there is absolutely no room for him at all,
Christ has come uninvited.
But because he cannot be at home in it,
because he is out of place in it,
and yet he must be in it,
his place is with those others for whom there is no room.
His place is with those who do not belong,
who are rejected by power because they are regarded as weak,
those who are discredited,
who are denied the status of persons,
tortured, excommunicated,
with those for whom there is no room,
Christ is present in the world.
He is mysteriously present in those
for whom there seems to be nothing but the world at its worst.
It is in these that he hides himself,
for whom there is no room.
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