What is the Church?

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Readings: Isaiah 49:1-7;  Psalm 40;  John 1:29-42

 

Today I want to ask question “What is the Church?”

 

Please close your eyes for a moment, and with your eyes closed I want you to visualise the Church of the Ascension.

 

Take a few moments to form a mental image…

 

How many of you imagined the building?

 

I think most people, most of the time, I’d asked to imagine a ‘church’ will imagine the building.  Which is fair enough – this building has “the Church of the Ascension” written on the front of it.  Our logo is an image of the front of the building.

 

Google’s Dictionary defines “Church” as “a building used for public Christian worship.”

 

And offers the synonyms:     “house of God, the Lord’s house, house of prayer; kirk.”

 

It’s only the second definition that gets to the nitty gritty: “a particular Christian organization [sic.] with its own clergy, buildings, and distinctive doctrines.”

 

The building is not what the church is.

 

The Church is you and me.

 

The word “Church” (or in the original Greek, “ecclesia”) is an interesting word, it was deliberately chosen by the first Christians who could have called their places of worship “temples” like the pagans or “synagogues” like their Jewish forbears, but instead chose “ecclesia” translated “church.”  “Ecclesia” is used 115 times in the New Testament, but only two or three times is it usually translated as “Church” because the word simply means a gathering of people or an assembly.

 

The Church is the people, not the place where they gather.

 

We are the church. Without us it’s just a building (an interesting & historic building, but just a building nonetheless).

 

In the same way that your family (if you live with one or more other people) is not the house or flat you live in.  Your home may be very important to you, but your house is not your family….

 

Our building is important, it is a sign to our neighbourhood that we are here, and it is a great resource for our community, but it is not the Church.  The church is us.

 

 

 

What does it mean to be the church?

 

I wonder what we think we are doing when we come together as a church?

 

What secular activity is it most like?  What is a good metaphor for coming together to be the Church.

 

For some services (a Choral Evensong springs to mind) a service can bear a lot of resemblance to a concert.  We listen to a sermon and we pray, but we spend most of the time sitting and listening to music.

 

But this is not what we are about – for several reasons.  If worship is like a concert, it makes us passive receivers.  It means that Worship is something other people do (the choir and clergy); the congregation’s role is just the audience.  The congregation are an audience to be entertained.

 

If we look for a better metaphor, I have heard church described as a time to “recharge our spiritual batteries.” …This places church as something like a “battery charger,” or perhaps a “spiritual health spa” where our favourite hymns are a pedicure and the prayers an exfoliating body scrub…?

 

This is a better metaphor than a concert because we are changed by the process, we are not simply entertained, we are healthier, feel better and maybe look better (I’ve never actually been in a spa, so it’s possible I’m talking nonsense !)

 

However, the idea of the church as a spa still has the problem that the religion is “done to us” by the professionals.  The experts do their work and the customers lay back and enjoy it.

 

I attended a lecture last year that said the best metaphor for the church was a gym – St. Ignatius described his system of prayer as “Spiritual Exercises” – so perhaps Church is best described as a “Soul Gym.”

 

Unlike a concert or spa, everyone actively participates in the gym; it makes us fitter and better able to do things (like climb stairs and run for the bus).  There are trained experts around to help, but everyone works at their own level and does their own exercise.

 

Perhaps like going to the gym we may not jump up with excitement at the idea of a trip to church, but hopefully, like the gym we feel better for going, and the cumulative effect of regularly attending gym or church is improvement in our physical or spiritual health.  The more often you go and the more seriously you take it the more marked the results.

 

(It is also worth mentioning that if every church member paid like people pay at the gym (by a standing order that comes out of your account wether you attend once a year or seven times a week) all of our financial concerns would be over!)

 

I like the gym metaphor, but it is also flawed.  At the gym everyone is doing their own thing.  Everyone may be in the same room, but they are all pursuing their own aims.

 

The problem of all these metaphors is that they place the congregation in the place of “consumers” of one sort or another.  In the church we are not “consumers” of religion.  We are “citizens” of the Kingdom of God.  We are the Body of Christ.

 

If we were consumers we have religion done to us.  We pay the clergy to do our religion for us, and then buy whatever slice or flavour is to our taste.

 

As citizens of the Kingdom, as the body of Christ, as people who are the church we don’t just consume faith, we live it out in our lives

 

We gather as a church in order to be sent out again to change the world and proclaim the Kingdom.

 

So church may share some superficial similarities with a concert or spa or gym, but none of them do justice to what we are about.  To my mind the best metaphor for the church is a family meal.

 

Like family meals it is wonderful – it’s fantastic to share time with people who matter to us.  But it is also a challenge, some of the children may be noisy at inappropriate times and uncle Jim’s sense of humour is alarmingly unreconstructed.  But we are family, children of the same Heavenly Father.

 

But we have a responsibility for each other in church. 

 

If there is someone new next to us looking lost with the handfuls of service sheets and hymn books, if we are consumers it’s none of our business, but if we are the church we have a responsibility to help them out and guide them through…

 

If we are consumers if we run out run out of service sheets the only thing that matters is that we get our own sheet, as citizens we must share with our neighbours…

 

If we were consumers we would see tea and coffee after the church as an experience similar to a quick visit to Starbucks.  (With cheaper coffee.)  If we are consumers all that matters is our coffee and our conversations with our friends, but if we are citizens we need to look out for folks who are on their own or looking left out.

 

I have heard from people who started coming to church because of the wonderful welcome they had at the door.  I have, also, recently received an email from a potential new member who decided not to come back because they felt someone was rude to them because they weren’t looking at them directly during the Peace!

 

How we behave to each other really matters.

 

We are the church, and the church will thrive or decline according to how we act.

 

If the church is going to grow their is no outreach programme or activity that could even come close to “word of mouth” from all of us.  Evangelical churches have run all sorts of studies on what makes churches grow: door-to-door evangelism?  Billy-Graeme-style rallies? singing in market squares? giving out pamphlets…?  and every single study I have read comes to the same conclusion: the congregation telling their friends, neighbours and families about the church, and inviting them along is by miles the most effective means of growth.

 

If we are consumers then church growth has nothing to do with us – we just attend to buy a fresh slice of religious observance.  However, if we are citizens then we all have to play our part in building the church.

 

I think every Church service should end with the famous words of St Teresa of Avila:

 

Christ has no body now on earth but yours,

 

no hands but yours,

 

no feet but yours,

 

yours are the eyes through which Christ’s compassion

 

is to look out to the earth,

 

yours are the feet by which He is to go about doing good

 

and yours are the hands by which He is to bless us now.

 

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The conversion of Saul – a sermon by Margaret Offerman

Acts ch 9 vv 1 – 9

Philippians ch 3 vv 5 – 9

Yesterday was the feast day of the apostle Paul.  In the short  passage  from Acts that we’ve just heard,  Saul became Paul.The man who had been a ruthless persecutor of the early followers of Jesus was struck down on his way into Damascus where he was authorised to carry out arrests, indeed he was threatening to kill any members of the Jesus movement he could find.  He was halted in his tracks by a voice from heaven and he collapsed.  When he got to his feet he was blind.

You can find the  story in Acts chapter 9.  It comes to its climax when Saul, now known as Paul, converted to the Jesus way, but as an object of intense hatred by the Jewish hierarchy, had to flee for his life, escaping  from Damascus in a basket let down over the city walls by his new allies.  He travelled  to Jerusalem where he was regarded with suspicion by the Christians there and it was only when he was befriended by Barnabas that he became finally accepted.

After this colourful start to his ministry, he established himself as a missionary to the Greek speaking Jews who had fled the Roman occupation of their country and settled in cosmopolitan cities like Corinth and Ephesus.

Paul was a great debater, winning converts in the market places or the synagogues of the cities he visited by the persuasiveness of his oratory.   He travelled extensively collecting money for the church in Jerusalem and performing miracles, signs of the power which came to him after his conversion. 

He was a tent maker.  This was a craft rather than a trade in ancient times.  Wealthy merchants commissioned their own tents when they travelled about as it was much safer as well as more comfortable to accommodate oneself and one’s servants in this way than in an inn.     Paul had a secretary and at least one assistant.  Throughout his ministry he supported himself by continuing to work at his craft.

Being a tent maker gave Paul a perfect opportunity for meeting middle class, educated people who were well travelled and interested in ideas.  Paul no doubt used these encounters to talk about his intellectual struggles with the Christianity which he was evolving and developing after his experience on the road to Damascus and it’s this Christianity which, through his letters,  is his legacy to us.  It had an enormous impact on the early church and it survives today, filtered through the writings of theologians like Augustine in the 5th Century, Martin Luther in the 16th and Karl Barth in the 20th

The Paul I’ve just described is the Paul of the Acts of the Apostles, the man of immense physical energy and self sacrifice, the Pharisee who spent himself in preaching and teaching the Good News he’d received.

But there ‘s another Paul in the NT and that’s the Paul of the letters he wrote to the communities he’d visited and for whom he felt very responsible.

It’s impossible to know whether Paul’s Phariseeism gave him his neurotic preoccupation with sin or whether his  neurotic  preoccupation with sin drew him to Phariseeism.   But it’s a fact that much of his writing reveals a man constantly aware of  his own sinfulness and trying to relate it to the Jewish law.  ‘I do not do the good I want to do but the evil I do not want to do is what I do’ – this is his cry.

Paul’s problem lies in the Jewish faith  he was brought up in and its basis  on two central ideas: God had chosen the Jews and he had given them the law.  The law is contained in the books of Exodus, Leviticus, Deuteronomy and Numbers.  It’s extremely detailed and totally prescriptive.  You must and you must not.  Those long passages when Paul argues with  himself about whether or not gentile Christians should be circumsized , his concerns about eating meat which had been offered to idols, (and much meat in the market places of the Roman world had been slaughtered as a sacrifice to their gods),  his anxiety about observation of the sabbath and Jewish feast days and his firm views about  sexual behaviour, all these passages spring from his inherited interpretation  of the Jewish law.  Paul’s Jewishness had not liberated him.  On the contrary it had loaded him with anguish and guilt.  And when he became a follower of Jesus he found no total  liberation there either.  He developed another set of anxieties based on his need to reconcile his commitment to the law with his view that there’s the possibility of salvation through belief in Jesus, whom he almost invariably refers to as Christ.  The life and ministry of Jesus don’t preoccupy Paul.  He’s interested in Jesus as Christ, as the fulfilment of the divine plan to send a Messiah to the chosen people to save them from their sins.  So Paul concludes that the law given by God condemns humanity so that the same God could subsequently save humanity through the atoning and redeeming power of Christ.  

After reading Paul it’s a great relief to turn to the person of Jesus.  Paul reminds me of a character in one of Samuel Becket’s novels ‘who had never smiled but thought he knew how it was done’  Read the tolerant humorous way that Jesus describes his Jewish contemporaries and their inconsistent attitude to what they wanted;  it’s like a breath of fresh air.  You’re like discontented fractious children, he said, constantly demanding a reaction and never satisfied when you get one.   You don’t know what you want.  All you know is what you don’t want.    You can imagine Jesus saying to Paul, Oh, just get on with it.  Jesus relished life.  He had no patience with endless discussions of abstract hypotheses.  He loved human encounters.  He enjoyed physical pleasures like eating and drinking.  He wasn’t  inhibited by the Jewish purity laws from mixing with people on their merits.  Jesus respected the law but he said that he came to fulfil the law, not to allow it to become a strait jacket.

Paul’s letters reveal a man who thought it was important to wrestle with the intellectual difficulties of faith, many of which would have come as a surprise to Jesus and  are even more peripheral to our lives 2 millenia after Paul lived and died. 

It’s easy to read the epistles and become disengaged from Paul, impatient with him.

BUT.

Paul came to recognise that although he had been brought up in the classical tradition,  believing that reason is the highest human faculty and we should rely on it, in life’s most difficult moments we can’t and we  don’t.  So he has left us sublime passages of writing like the 12th chapter of the letter to the Romans:  ‘Let love show itself in mutual affection.  Esteem others more highly than yourself.  With unflagging zeal, aglow with the spirit, serve the lord.  Let hope keep you joyful.  In adversity, stand firm.  …Rejoice with those who rejoice.  Weep with those who weep.  If possible, so far as it lies within you, be at peace with all.’  And we’re  familiar with the hymn to love in the 13th chapter of the first letter to the Corinthians, where he elevates love above every other gift of God.  And again in Romans chapter 8:  ‘I am convinced that there is nothing in either life or death, in the realms of spirits or of superhuman power, in the world as it is or in the world as it shall be, in the forces of the universe, in heights or depths, nothing in all creation that can separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus.’ 

There’s a note of great pathos near the end of the epistle to the Romans where he asks his readers to pray for him –‘ that I may be saved from unbelievers in Judea and that my errand in Jerusalem may find acceptance with God’s people, in order that by his will I may come to you in a happy frame of mind and experience a period of rest with you.’ 

This tormented, complex  man drove himself to extremes of endurance in the service of the church he helped to create.  We pray that  he found the lasting peace he yearned for when he wrote:  ‘the time has come for me to be gone.  I have fought the good fight to the end.  I have kept the faith.  All there is to come now is the crown of righteousness that the  Lord, the righteous judge,  will give to me on that day.’ Image