Sermons
Fourth
Sunday after Trinity
Sunday 4 July 2004 at 6.30pm
Simon Cowling
Readings Genesis 29. 1-20;
Mark 6. 7-29
There's something rather touching about the thought of Jacob
being so much in love with his cousin Rachel that he agrees to work seven
years for his uncle Laban in return for her hand in marriage; and if we
read on a little further from the point at which tonight's Old Testament
reading ended we'll discover that Jacob ends up having to work a further
seven years for Rachel because he's initially tricked into marrying her
sister Leah. But before we warm to Jacob too much it's worth reflecting
on the fact that there is a high degree of moral ambiguity about him. Remember
how Jacob takes advantage of his elder brother, Esau's, hunger and agrees
to give him a bowl of soup in exchange for his rights as the firstborn;
remember how he and his mother Rebecca then trick the elderly and almost
blind Isaac into giving Jacob the blessing that, by rights, should have
been Esau's; remember how Jacob is fearful at the prospect of meeting his
wronged brother Esau when he returns to Canaan with Rachel and Leah and
has contingency plans in place in case the reconciliation goes wrong. Yet
despite this moral ambiguity it is Jacob who, after his strange night-encounter
where he wrestles with God at the river Jabbok, is renamed Israel and becomes
the ancestor of a whole nation that is called to be holy to God. Not Abraham,
not Isaac but the deeply flawed and enigmatic Jacob.
In the wider context of scripture we should not, perhaps,
be surprised. The Bible, both Old and New Testament, is full of individuals
whose calling has been at odds with what we already know about them or with
how they subsequently behave. Moses, who kills a man in anger and has to
flee for his life; king David who arranges to have Uriah killed in battle
so he can marry his wife; Peter, who boldly proclaims Jesus to be the Messiah
but who subsequently denies him publicly three times; Paul, who begins his
adult life as an eager persecutor of the Church he subsequently served with
such energy. God's call was to all these individuals, and between call and
response there was what one writer has called "an ambiguous and paradoxical
relationship."
What is true in the scriptural record is surely also true
in our own lives, the lives of those with whom we worship in community and
the lives of any who profess themselves to be Christians. I guess it would
not take very long for any of us to think of people whose calling as disciples
of Jesus seems to be at odds with what we know of them; and, if we're brutally
honest, it would not take very long, either, for any of us to realise that
within each of ourselves there lies moral ambiguity, moral cowardice, moral
failing. God sees those parts of ourselves, just as he saw the failings
of Moses and Jacob, David, Peter and Paul. God called them, and he calls
us, as whole people in all our complexity, our wilfulness, in all our moral
ambiguity. God calls us not because of our special qualities, but because
he loves us. To paraphrase John Keats: that is all we know on earth and
all we need to know. Amen.
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©
St Edmund's Church, Roundhay - Charity Number 1131904
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22 July, 2004