As you know, I am not concerned with keeping things ‘on the proper day’. Not because of any kind of flippancy about the events we commemorate, but because the days are, so often, guesses anyway and sometimes, given the time differences, simply wrong. Now and again, some self-proclaimed guru will give a date for the end of the world so often it’s Eastern Standard Time, rather than Greenwich Meantime or even Australian time. They must watch the day dawning from the other side of the globe and think ‘heck, only four hours until I’m found out’. The Proper Time of course, and the Proper Day is the time and the day when we accept the Christ is Lord and change our lives in time with His and mark His steps all our days – but these reminders of what goes before us helps us, I hope, on our way. Today we unashamedly recall historical events. Encouraged by his mother, St. Helen, the Emperor Constantine had the sites of Our Lord’s crucifixion and resurrection excavated, and churches built over them. These were dedicated in September 335, on the 14th, although we know not at what hour. The tides of history saw the Persian emperor sacking Jerusalem and removing the relics and then the Byzantine Emperor defeating the Persians and bringing the relics back and forth and to today when Jerusalem and the site of the Holy Cross as contested and battle weary as so many other parts of the world. It does matter where Christ was killed and it does matter where He Ascended to the Father, but only inasmuch as it sets the compass of our life to the ineffable mystery of faith which we celebrate here, today and always.Human beings live in time, space and society. Dates are important. The anniversary of a loved-one’s death weighs on us. Places are important. Few people do without a home; many have favourite places for meeting friends. The well-being of our communities is important. A nation’s sporting success affects the mood of many. The reroofing of a church takes on more importance than mere tiles and slates alone. Cooking for people we love is more than just giving them food. Put all this together, and the destruction, loss, restoration or recovery of some national symbol can be crucial, and the way we venerate the Holy Cross and use it in our lives is of great importance in showing how our faith is practiced. So the Word, who enlightens everyone, became flesh; Mary, her sister, Mary of Clopas, Mary Magdalene, and John, beheld his glory. By grace we can have friendship with God, supernatural light, an intimacy with God destined to grow into heaven’s clear vision; this is a higher sharing in the divine Wisdom.Like our natural light, it could have come to us in a secret, interior way. But no: this divine light comes to us in a more human way. God’s Wisdom was born of a particular Woman, grew up among particular relatives, taught particular disciples, and was nailed to a particular piece of wood. Those who witnessed His hour of glory, found His tomb empty on 5 April in the year 33 (or maybe 9 April in the year 30). From that single time and place, the Spirit flows to people of all times and places. None are excluded from grace; but its characteristic route is the sacraments. Through particular people’s gestures, Jesus of Nazareth reaches down to us through the centuries. We live out friendship with God in particular acts of care. We live out friendship with God both in communities and as a community, a Church. We work for visible unity. We try to ensure that the Church’s leaders live lives of moral goodness and we hope that we support them in that. We endeavour to influence public policy for the common good. We pray for the good estate of the Church; for grace builds on nature, and if the Church flourishes friendship with God is facilitated and those who bear the name ‘Christian’, who have the flag of the cross in their hearts or their hands bear it in the way that the Christ who was nailed to it bore it – as a sacrifice and self-offering for the sins of a broken world who had come to forget His Fathers covenant. The Holy Cross is a symbol of the universal love of God for every human being, who has been, who is and is yet to come, long before and long after our own tides and seasons and languages and customs and buildings have ebbed and flowed. What will be left behind of us, what will remain of us, is grace and love, for that is what remains of Him, bringing us life and hope, from a hill in Jerusalem two thousand years ago, not from a lamppost in Rotherham or a roundabout in Bispham.These are dark times for our world. In dark times, we are not cut off from grace, for grace comes through Jesus’ deliberate self-abasement. When the Emperor Heraclius carried the Wood of the Cross back in triumph after he defeated the Moors who invaded his land, he found he could not enter the Holy Places till he had taken off his crown, and robe, and shoes and humble himself before the King of Kings, who reigned on a throne of wood and of blood. In that sign of love, we conquer.
It would be the usual thing to begin by saying that Crosses are personal things, and that the burden we bear is an intensely personal one, and that it is different for everyone – but that is not necessarily so, for we all bear the burden of suffering and loss and sadness, and those people following Jesus today in the Gospel are, as so often, addressed en masse, not individually.In the Gospel today, Jesus is in some way already bearing his cross as he makes his way to Jerusalem, where he will defeat evil by submitting himself to the worst evil can do, and overcoming it. All that – and its consequence for those who follow – is encapsulated in his words ‘Whoever does not bear their cross and come after me cannot be my disciple.’ He says these words to those who are following Him, literally, those who are His Disciples.They did not know what we know that salvation was to be won through suffering and death, supposing that Jesus was going to win a war on behalf of their race, their nation, its structures of family, blood and clan. But Jesus tells them that if they follow him, they must hate their own family. He tells the crowds that, when the time comes to choose, they (and we) must put God and Christ before everything we hold dear, even the very things we expect God and Jesus to preserve, and that stands as a stark response to our prayers for each other and our families.He also tells us to assess the cost of the decisions we are going to make – don’t build towers or go to war if you will lose them but decide how to follow Him and stick to your plan, so as not to fall away when things get tough, which He will also not do in Gethsemane and on Calvary. Or even, if you don’t follow me, don’t pretend that you do. The people in the gospel are following Jesus but not for the right reasons, they’re followers because they walk behind Him, waiting for titbits, but they are not disciples, any more than many self-described Christians are now, they just like the trappings and the free things. They do not know where Jesus is going: his crucifixion and ultimate return to the Father. They are looking for change but did not appreciate that following Jesus entailed the ultimate change of finding their way to God. They were looking for security in this life, and the assurance that they will be ok, and maybe have seats at His right and left in heaven.They wanted a change, however. There were the hungry, who wanted to be fed; the sick, who wanted to be healed; the poor, who wanted to become rich; and the dead, carried by their relatives, who, according to those relatives at least, wanted to be revived. They followed him enthusiastically, full of hope, and looking for the good things in life, like many churches do.And knowing this, He turned around, looked them square in the face and said ‘Quo Vadis’, where are you going? He wanted to know if they really knew where he was going so they could follow Him. Like the tower builder, did they appreciate the cost of the journey? Like the king, did they appreciate the enormity of the task? There was misunderstanding between Jesus and his followers. They were following him the old way. The people wanted a better position in the old order, to get rich, to get healthy, and to get security. The Gospel of Wealth.They wanted an improved old life with their comforts. Jesus wanted to give them another life. The people wanted change, but they were thinking only of themselves, their families, their lives, and their possessions. Jesus was thinking about the Kingdom of God. Jesus was thinking of humanity as God’s family on its way to a final outcome and like Him, to give up so much on the way to make things better for others, who we do not know, in a culture of challenge and suspicion, which we need to rise above for the sake of the Gospel.We cannot withdraw from the challenges our culture presents us with today. We cannot withdraw from thinking about faith. Others have shifted our culture against faith; it is not impossible that we too can shift the culture once again, if we are prepared to be both zealous and thoughtful Disciples. It means that we must put Christ first, be ready to suffer and to risk occasional defeats, even if we know that the truth is ultimately victorious.And Christ will win. He has counted the cost. He has faced our worst enemies and conquered. We must not be afraid to share his sufferings, so as to share his victory. But we need to take stock of what we must do and what it might cost. Or we shall only deserve to be mocked as those who build towers for them to fall at the first sign of danger. Our only firm foundation is Him, and we must prefer Him to everything, even our own life and family.
You know when you’re at an airport, going on holiday, and you’re flying economy class? Then while at the gate you get an announcement to come to the desk only to be informed that you have been upgraded to business class? Feels good, doesn’t it? And OK, it’s not quite the same as our gospel story today, but hopefully you get the gist. It feels good to get something you didn’t expect. Possibly something you felt you didn’t deserve; to sort of get buoyed up. This is one of the things inferred by Jesus in today’s gospel reading.In general, the teachings of Jesus highlight the importance of humility. And to be quite honest, while I was writing this sermon, about humility, I recognised in myself quite a fair few of the non-humble traits I was writing about. Was quite a wake up call…..In today’s gospel, Jesus gives us not only guidance regarding table manners but also insight into the underlying values that influence our personal lives, our communities, and our position within the kingdom of God. These lessons encourage us to really think about what it means to be called by Christ: to live with humility and grace, while also being aware of those less fortunate than ourselves, or those who are marginalised by society.In the gospel we see guests vying for a seat at the top table, so to speak. Pharisees, keenly aware of social status, rank & order. They exalted themselves, assuming their importance and their expectations of seats of honour. ‘Look at us, how good and honourable we are, how well we keep the laws and observe the Sabbath. How excellent we must be in the eyes of God!’ But their small mindedness which pushes itself forward, leaving others behind, is then confronted by the big-hearted love of God, which is far greater than anything we or they could ever imagine, and they end up being humbled.Jesus taught exaltation versus humility. We need to live with eternity in our sights, not present-day notoriety. We should not seek exaltation ourselves by presumptuously pursuing a position of greatness. We should assume the lower position and let God exalt us, where warranted. Humility is the true path to glory.While Jesus teaches good social advice, His main teaching is about pushing oneself forward, or rather not pushing ourselves forward, not only in the eyes of our fellows but primarily, most importantly, in the eyes of God. Just because someone has money or status doesn’t mean that he or she has a higher standing in the sight of God. We are all in a relationalposition with each other, as God’s children, but it’s how we see ourselves before God that really matters, and that we do not feel deserving of the higher places. How often do we seek recognition, status, or advantage in the eyes of others? The impulse to put ourselves forward, to reach out for what we believe we deserve, is as old as humanity itself. It’s in our DNA. Arrogance, or pride, the opposite of humility, is not just wanting to be noticed, but to be the most noticed. ‘And the Lord harshly punishes the arrogant.’(Ps 31:23) Pride is the great cloud which blots out the sun of God’s generosity. Jesus spent His entire life breaking through that cloud, bringing the fresh healing sunshine of God’s love to those in its shadow.Jesus warns against this striving for status. He tells us that those who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted. This is not just a way of avoiding the embarrassment of being asked to take a lower seat, for example, it is a principle of the kingdom of God, a kingdom that stands in stark contrast to the world’s ways. A kingdom that is countercultural.What is humility? It is not self-abasement, nor is it the denial of our worth or gifts. Rather, humility is a realisation of where we are in the grand scheme of existence. It is the courage to see ourselves as we truly are, warts and all —no more, no less—and to regard others with genuine respect and openness. It is the ability to see ourselves honestly, to recognize our dependence on God, and to value others as highly as we value ourselves. In the eyes of Jesus, greatness is not measured by where we sit or how we are seen, but by our willingness to put others ahead of ourselves, to serve rather than be served. He came to serve, not to be served.C.S. Lewis once wrote, "Humility is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less." A humble person does not deny their talents. Humility invites us to acknowledge our strengths with gratitude, and our weaknesses without despair. Even to boast in our weaknesses because that is when God’s power is at its greatest. Humility is indeed countercultural, as already mentioned. Our world is brimming with noise and ambition and often elevates the loudest voice or the proudest gesture. We are encouraged to seek the spotlight, to climb the ladder of success, to secure for ourselves the highest position. But Jesus says, “Take the lowest place.” In the kingdom of God, the way up is down. Literally the upside-down kingdom. True honour doesn’t come from self-promotion, but from humility before God and others.In our human lives, humility can, in fact, stand out as a powerful and transformative virtue. It has a significant influence not only on our interactions with others but also on our spiritual relationship with God. And it is not a sign of weakness, but the foundation of true strength. Scripture teaches us that God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Humility creates space in our hearts where wisdom can take root and where we can hear the still small voice of our God. We can approach our lives with a sense of wonder, recognizing that we are just a small part of a story thatis way bigger and grander than we are, or could ever hope to be.In everyday life, humility is being willing to listen before speaking, to serve without seeking recognition, and to admit when we have been wrong. It is demonstrated when we genuinely celebrate the success of others, but also when we share in their sadnesses or woes. It’s knowing when we need help and not being too proud to ask for it. Asking for help is not a sign of weakness, or that we are a failure. On the contrary, it is a sure sign of strength, admitting that we can’t do it all on our own. We do need the help and support of others, pretty frequently actually. But more than that – we cannot ‘be’ without the help of our God. And so we can come to Him with humility and ask for His help, His grace and His mercy.Jesus tells this parable at a dinner party. Luke uses ‘dinner party’ settings for many of Jesus’ teachings and parables. Today’s dinner party is labelled the ‘fifth disastrous dinner party’ by Nicholas King, it being the fifth such event in the gospel thus far. Four out of the five involve the Pharisees and the prickly relationship between them and Jesus. In Luke’s time of writing, the gentiles were beginning to ‘come to the party’ so to speak, many non-Jews were becoming Christians and coming along to the dinner party prepared by the God of Abraham, of Isaac and of Jacob. The Jews found this hard to stomach and worked hard to maintain their place at the top table, as the ‘chosen people.’ So much so, that they failed to grasp what God, though Jesus, was doing – breaking the mould, turning the world on its head. Those who exalt themselves will be humbled and those who humble themselves will be exalted.So, let’s do more than simply imagine a place where people are not measured by status, but by love; not by wealth, but by willingness to serve; not by who they know, but by whom they welcome. This is the vision of the kingdom of God, and it begins with us, at our own tables, and in our own hearts.
Reading of eating and drinking in today’s Gospel, my mind wandered back to childhood family gatherings, Christmas, anniversaries, birthdays. Those occasions when the table was set with an old-fashioned buffet… sandwiches, sausage rolls, trifles, cakes. And there was always an unspoken rule, the family held back. Guests went first. It wasn’t simply manners, it was generosity, hospitality, and a way of making sure that everyone felt welcome.That memory brought to mind something very British too… queueing. Especially during wartime rationing, or on busy weekends outside the post office or the shops. People queued not just because they had to, but because it felt right. Fair play, patience, and respect for others shaped the way we waited our turn. These small disciplines of life carried with them a sense of care for the neighbour.Yet in today’s Gospel Jesus gently unsettles many of our instincts. Someone asks him, ‘Lord, will those who are saved be few?’ Instead of giving a number, he speaks of the ‘narrow door.’ This is not about heaven being rationed, as though there were only a few places, but about how we enter. The Kingdom of God is not reached through entitlement or privilege, but through humility, openness of heart, and readiness to receive grace.The image of a narrow door is a vivid one. Think of visiting an ancient priory, a castle, or a medieval church. The doors are often small, the passageways tight. To go through them you must slow down and pay attention. They invite a change of posture. Even the narrow windows in thick stone towers were not made for show, but for safety. They filtered light, kept out danger, and required a different kind of looking… careful, deliberate, focused.Perhaps Jesus’ narrow door is like that. It is not a sign of restriction or harshness, but of a passage that reshapes us as we enter. It calls us to lay aside baggage and ego, to surrender pride and entitlement, and to pass through in simplicity and trust. It is the way of humility that leads to freedom.Luke places this moment of teaching ‘on the way to Jerusalem.’ That phrase is more than geography… it is theology. The whole Gospel is moving towards the cross. For Luke’s first readers, many of them Gentiles, the question of who truly belonged was pressing. Jesus’ vision here, of people coming from east and west, north and south, to feast with Abraham and the prophets, was a radical reassurance. The Kingdom was open to all who responded in faith.But the challenge is also real. Some protest, ‘We ate and drank with you; you taught in our streets.’ Yet Jesus replies, ‘I do not know where you come from.’ It is possible to be close to the Church, close even to the words of Christ, and yet far from the heart of the Gospel. What matters is not outward proximity but inward transformation.Our other readings today echo the same insight. Isaiah foresees the great gathering of nations, God’s welcome widening to embrace all peoples. Hebrews reminds us that discipline and trial are not signs of distance but of love… the way a parent forms a child. All are being drawn into God’s household, shaped to walk through that door of grace.St Cyril of Alexandria reflects that those who rely on pride or entitlement risk being left outside, while those who come in humility are gathered in by Christ. The Kingdom is not entered through achievement or entitlement, but through humility. And that humility is not learned in grand gestures, but in the daily disciplines of love… in small acts of kindness, in patient endurance, in trust that perseveres even in suffering. Holiness is not about outward show and recognition but about lives quietly shaped by God.And we do see it, don’t we? Think of the parent who cares day by day for a child with a life-changing illness or the spouse who sits faithfully at a hospital bedside. There is no fanfare, no glory, only the steady choice to love. Or think of something smaller still… the stranger who steps aside in a queue to let another go ahead, not because they are in a hurry, but because kindness matters. These are narrow door choices, humble thresholds. Little windows of grace that change the way we see and the way we live.And today, in a very simple way, our parish fair is another glimpse of this. It is not about grandeur, but welcome. As we share time, conversation, and fellowship, we do so not to raise ourselves up but to open wide the doors of hospitality. What we celebrate in miniature today is a sign of the Kingdom… generosity offered, neighbours & community gathered, joy shared.The Eucharist makes this visible in its fullest sense. At the altar there are no first or last. We kneel together, side by side, our hands empty, leaving behind status and achievement. And into those empty hands is placed the same gift… bread broken, wine out poured, the love of Christ shared, Christ himself is our host.So, as we step into the week ahead… with its queues, its family duties, its frustrations, its hidden opportunities… the narrow door is never far. It is near to us in how we speak, how we wait, how we love. It is not a barrier, but an invitation to holiness, to see differently.And like those ancient small doorways that lead into beautiful churches, the way of humility leads to a place of wonder and welcome. Amen.
