It can be hard to balance public and private life, and sometimes things tip over the balance one way or the other, which can be difficult to calibrate. Quite a long time ago now, people would drop in unannounced for a cup of tea and a chat, now it seems inconceivable that you might do so without making a phone call first, but to people under the age of maybe 25, it seems inconceivable that you might phone someone without first sending a text message to see if they are available or even willing to speak to you. The silence of hospital wards now bears testament to how little we are used to communicating with strangers, and sharing unannounced conversations, and we lose something because of that, both from what we receive and what we give and what we do together. The Old Testament reading today is about that extra something Abraham and Sarah get from being hospitable hosts. There they are, living their own lives and minding their own business, when three men appear out of nowhere, the archetypal uninvited visitors arriving without warning. Abraham welcomes them warmly and Sarah produces a lavish meal. Abraham enjoys their company and learns from them something he would never have dreamt of, that when these strangers return in the spring, he and his wife would have a son. We all hope that we would be able to offer hospitality to strangers, but actually we struggle to do so.These men were angels and in Old Testament stories angels indicate the presence and action of God. In fact so closely are these three men linked with God that the writer changes from speaking of three men to talking of the Lord. Abraham, in welcoming these strangers, unknowingly invited God into his home. You would think he had been reading the letter to the Hebrews, Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. Putting it another, way, we encounter God in strangers and in each other.Today’s gospel reading presents a similar situation where Martha welcomes a travelling preacher into her home and she busies herself playing the perfect host. Her sister, Mary, doesn’t seem to be any help at all but sits with the stranger, listening to his teaching. At this point it is likely that the two sisters are unaware that their guest is the Son of God so, like Abraham, they are entertaining angels unawares. Martha is annoyed that Mary is no help and points out that her sister is neglecting the duties of a host. But Jesus reminds her that being hospitable means not only providing refreshment for your guests but also includes conversing with them and listening to them. Otherwise the hospitality is the kind you get in hotels which has nothing worthwhile about it. Remember though that Martha and Mary are sisters, they are not fighting over Jesus; rather they complement each other. In themselves they are partial images of a faith waiting to be realised by the death and resurrection of the Lord; individually they seek to welcome but it is only together that they achieve it.This encounter with Jesus is as much a life-changing event as Abraham’s encounter with the three angels. Both are encounters with God. One leads to the founding of a nation into which God’s Son will be born. The other is part of the founding of a Church by that same God, which will enable its members to have a direct relationship with his Son – we are heirs of Martha and Mary, they sat with the Lord before us, and fell out over how to do so before us!In following Jesus we are asked to complete his work. As St. Paul tells us today: I complete what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church. It is our responsibility as members of the Church to continue and complete the work of Christ. When we are hospitable to people, giving them of our time, then that work is nearer to completion and the kingdom that much closer than before.There is nothing left now of the Oaks of Mamre; the place all tarmac and housing. There is not much left of the Byzantine Church there, commemorating the meeting of Abraham with the Lord in the three men. Today, only the hot dust of Hebron’s streets and the smell of cooking falafels could lead our thoughts to the past scene at Abraham’s tent; when, in the ‘heat of the day’ he offered shelter, meat and drink to some strangers travelling through the desert.Yet, there is a deeper connection we can make, beyond imagination. Providing rest and nourishment is still the mark of generosity because it is a response to the most fundamental needs of others. ‘Hospitality’ is such an overused word that its true meaning has been cheapened. In this act of charity we recognise our guests’ dependence on us and in turn our own reliance upon others. We are taught that we need each other.It is only in this spirit of reliance and humility that we can go on to accept that most difficult of truths. No one is independent, except God. And the most basic dependence of humanity rests on him, and on us being together, forming communities, speaking to each other, helping each other at our own Oak of Mamre, our own house.
Where does justice end and charity begin? Are we required to give to the poor in justice or in charity? The Fathers of the Church, such as St John Chrysostom (344-407), argued that any excess wealth we possess is really the property of the poor. God intends the goods of creation to be used for the well-being of all people, and therefore anything we possess beyond our own needs should in justice be given to the poor.In today’s Gospel we hear one of the most powerful of Jesus’s parables, the story of the Good Samaritan. As the man lies half dead on the road a priest and a Levite pass by on the other side. Perhaps they are afraid of touching a half-dead man and infringing laws of purity, or maybe they think that stopping might put their own lives in danger. Whatever their reasons, we are right to feel scandalised by their actions. Here are the very men who represent the Law and the justice of God, yet when it comes to putting that Law into action they are found wanting.In today’s first reading Moses tells the people that the Law of God is not beyond their power ‘the Word is very near to you, it is in your mouth and in your heart for your observance’. What is required of the priest and the Levite is not some super-human feat, but what should come naturally to us as human beings; justice moved in compassion.It is the Samaritan who shows the truly human reaction to this stricken man, caring for his wounds and transporting him to a place of safety and rest. The contrast is calculated to shock. Those who represent the Law are given a lesson in how to keep the Law by one who is deemed to be outside it. Their lack of compassion shows how shallow the Law is in their hearts, and the half-dead man on the road reveals the deeper disfigurement of the humanity in their own hearts.The Fathers of the Church saw in the story of the Good Samaritan the pattern of our lives and if we look carefully, it is not difficult to see why. The stricken man is an image of our own fallen nature; bowed down and bleeding, unable to raise ourselves from the dust. The priest and the Levite are our disfigured hearts; our inability to reach out in compassion to heal and carry others.What does this teach us about following Jesus Christ? Firstly, we must continually work for justice. Each of us is baptised into the Kingship of Christ and therefore we each represent the justice of God’s Kingdom. The love of Jesus Christ carries us beyond the requirements of justice, bringing peace and healing where hope was lost.Jesus evidently had quite a complicated relationship with the Samaritans. In the Fourth Gospel he is actually accused of being a Samaritan and demon-possessed: he denies having a demon but says nothing about not being a Samaritan. Famously, of course, in one of the greatest episodes in the Fourth Gospel, Jesus asks a Samaritan woman for water from Jacob’s well, which leads to her beginning to identify who he might be. He was never afraid of communicating with people with whom he did not agree.Obviously, with the parable, the test that Jesus sets his fellow Jewish interlocutor is to realise that the one who loves as a neighbour is the heretical Samaritan, showing compassion in practical ways, apparently with no religious commitments or scruples one way or the other — in contrast spectacularly to the professional holy men from the Temple — once again, as so often, the teaching of Jesus is that there is no loving God independently of showing mercy to the victims left abandoned by the side of the road. Furthermore, in rejecting the mutual hostility between his own people and the Samaritans, Jesus transcends all boundary expectations. It is not social definitions such as religion, or ethnicity, or as we might add today class and gender, that determines who is our neighbour.For some, there may be a temptation to focus on the negative elements of the story: the brigands, the priest, the Levite. Jesus emphasizes the goodness and the great capabilities of human nature. Jesus gives us the true meaning of Deuteronomy and the Law. While we continue to support our favourite charities, there are situations and circumstances where we are personally challenged to become involved.This is the precise point of the Good Samaritan story. The potential to do great things is deep within each person and yearns to be expressed in real life situations. When will we die to our fears, so that we can see Jesus in those marginalized or despised? When will we take the risk of spontaneous action?‘Master what must I do to inherit eternal life?’ ‘Go and do the same yourself…’
Today we celebrate the feast of Saints Peter and Paul. For me, this day carries a personal resonance, it marks the 29th anniversary of my ordination to the diaconate. I was just 27, kneeling in Blackburn Cathedral as Bishop Alan Chesters laid his hands on my head. I remember the moment vividly, the solemnity, the ancient words, and above all the nerves. It was the beginning of a journey I could never have mapped out. I didn’t know then that I would serve as a hospital chaplain, a ministry often exercised amid difficult circumstance... It’s taught me that grace and the presence of Christ repeatedly shows up in the unexpected, in silence, amid suffering, and alongside those in need. Isn’t that true of the Christian life? If we ask ourselves whether we are where we thought we’d be 20 or 30 years ago, most of us would say no. Life unfolds with twists and turns we never planned. And yet, in hindsight, we often see the Spirit at work, quietly guiding, forming, and calling us in ways we never imagined. Peter and Paul are examples of this truth. Neither had a straightforward path. Peter was impulsive, often stumbling. Paul began as a persecutor. But both were called, forgiven, and transformed. God used their weaknesses, not just their strengths. In the Gospel today, Jesus asks a question that lies at the heart of the Christian journey: “Who do you say that I am?” It’s not simply a test of theology. It’s a question of relationship. Not what others say, but what we say, from the depths of our being. Peter replies, “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” It’s a moment of revelation. Jesus says, “Flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” This is the beginning of Peter’s transformation, from fisherman to rock. And yet, Peter’s story isn’t neat and tidy. He will deny Christ, be broken, and then be restored. He becomes a leader not through strength, but through mercy received. I think that’s one of the reasons this Gospel has always spoken to Christian men and women. It doesn’t give us heroes on pedestals, it gives us real people, redeemed by grace. It reminds me of the popular TV programme Who Do You Think You Are? where celebrities trace their family history and discover something of themselves in those who came before. They often complete the programme changed people not just by new facts, but with insight. Their identity is deepened, reframed. In the same way, faith invites us into a larger story. We’re not Christians in isolation. We stand in continuity with those who came before, apostles, saints, generations of believers. We’re shaped not only by our individual path, but by the story of the Church. Peter, who fell and was forgiven. Paul, who was blinded yet he could see. Their lives echo in the everyday experience of our own. Through baptism, we are grafted into that apostolic life. At confirmation, the same Spirit that came upon the apostles is sealed in us. These sacraments aren’t rituals from the past they are living connections to the grace Christ entrusted to His Church. Rowan Williams said, “Faith is not about knowing everything, but about being known, and trusting the One who knows us fully.” That trust is the heart of vocation. Whether priest or parent, carer or friend, all of us are called to answer Christ’s question, “Who do you say that I am?” Often, that answer emerges in hardship, in illness, disappointment, grief, or love. The same Spirit that opened Peter’s lips is present in us too, prompting our own leap of faith. So how do we live this apostolic faith today? Not usually in grand gestures, but in quiet faithfulness. In prayer even when it’s dry. In keeping promises. In loving when it’s hard. In forgiving when it’s costly. These are the building blocks of faith amid everyday life. The Church’s continuity is not merely institutional, it is sacramental. The laying on of hands at ordination, the anointing at confirmation, all trace their lineage to those moments when Christ entrusted the keys of the kingdom to his apostle Peter. As a student in my early 20’s I got to visit the destine Chapel, it was an emotional and moving experience. On one of the walls within this famous Chapel there is a painting of Saint Peter depicted receiving the keys to the kingdom, the artwork is titled, Delivery of the Keys, Peter looks overwhelmed. The keys are oversized, symbolic of the weight of the task. And yet he receives them, not by his own strength. We too are entrusted with something holy, and like Peter and Paul, we don’t always feel ready. But we discover God makes us ready along the way. Pope Leo the Great once said… in the one Peter, we are all given the name of rock. Today’s feast doesn’t only honour two towering saints. It celebrates the Church, it celebrates our faith, it calls us again, to hear that question: “Who do you say that I am?” So today, whether we feel strong or fragile, whether we’ve walked a straight path or wandered through unexpected turns, let us just be still before Christ. Let us hear his voice. And let us answer with all the faith we have, however small, however faltering: “You are the Christ. The Son of the living God.” And let that response become the rock upon which our lives are built.
I found, as I sat down to write this sermon, that the pervasive use of Artificial Intelligence, AI, had also penetrated Microsoft Word. You may have seen that under almost everything you read online now there are a number of boxes to click asking strangely uninteresting questions of the article you have just seen, which lead you further and further away from any kind of educated insight and more and more into the realms of artificially generated word salads, which moderate themselves depending on who is bankrolling that particular rabbit hole of darkness. Nothing new there, the back pages of magazines used to have Small Ads where you could write off for pamphlets for all kinds of causes and events which would make you feel valued and part of something which exists purely for the benefit of others, much like the last two governments we have lived under.Anyway, Microsoft Word AI invited me to type in whatever I was looking for and so I typed in ‘Trinity Sunday Sermon’ and it generated, very quickly, a well constructed, simple, short sermon on the Trinity which was accessible, sensible and almost completely heretical, but it was not obviously so – and therefore I predict that in about ten years it will be much more difficult to hear truth grounded in scripture, tradition, the church fathers and scholarship than it is now and the pervasive mindset that ‘it doesn’t really matter’ will be much more insistent and the faith will continue to erode as everything else has. What then do we do about it? Study, read, ask questions, learn more about our faith so that we know when we are being led astray. The wolves in sheep’s clothing we hear about in scripture are closer to the sheepfold than we thought.And it’s easy on a day like this, when I have to explain to you in about ten minutes the ineffable, unapproachable mystery of the processional relationship of God to Himself to look for an easy solution, because on the whole, we have got used to not really listening, not really studying, not really talking about the faith and not really knowing what to do when it all crumbles away. But today is an important day, it’s the Sunday after Pentecost when, having witnessed the descent of the Holy Spirit and the beautiful sight of the Apostles going out like a flood to the whole world bringing the Good News of Salvation, we ask ourselves ‘what, now do we do about it?’ The answer if given to us fully next Sunday, - we celebrate the Sacraments and receive the Body and Blood of Christ, the Corpus Christi, to give us strength and courage to bear witness, but today tells us what we bear witness to. And it’s love.God is a love which is completely one. Right from the earliest times, the disciples had a glimpse of the mystery of this Triune love which they encountered in Jesus, as we do as well in our encounter with Him. This is not the belief in some strange divine messy relationship on a remote planet. It is the love which transfigures our own loving. All our everyday ordinary loving is marked with this mystery, that we may love so fully that we become a relationship of love. It is a love which lifts us into equality, as the Father, Son and Holy Spirit are equal. Its grace frees us from domination and manipulation. It is a fertile love, overflowing beyond itself and drawing in not just others, but the whole of creation. It draws us into unity with each other and with God, overthrowing divisions between nations, saints and sinners, the living and the dead. Overthrowing our own personal likes and dislikes and making fools of those who hate. Our love is pregnant with the prayer of Jesus, addressed to his Father and ours, ‘that they may be one even as we are one, I in them and thou in me, that they may become perfectly one.’ It is a Trinity of love which is so utterly one that it embraces everything into itself, into the relentless vortex of creation, life, death and hope and despair and makes it all into love.Humans run from the God of Love by turning the world or nature or history itself into their god, seeing in him only the reflection of their gradual decay. But there is no world spirit, no ‘Gaia’ god, no great architect, no god you can invoke the name of with others and hope for the best, no impersonal spiritual realm that can save us. There is only the Holy Spirit, the one who is the personal searching, healing and transforming one, who even searches the depths of God and gives life and hope to the world and brings to us the love of God. It may be uncomfortable to us to assert the faith received and believed by the church and given by Christ, and it is uncomfortable because it is the most radical challenge ever issued to humanity and it cannot be blurred around the edges or seen through a different lens, because it is itself the only source of truth and life and if we perceive it through our own chosen lens, I is not visible at all, no matter how much we convince ourselves otherwise.If God really is this love who is involved with our world and who has embraced us, then we have a choice: we must either in turn love this God and embrace all that he embraces — and then of course, we shall be crucified as the distance we have put between ourselves and God dies away in love — or we must be content to watch the world around us from a distance, imitating the god who does not and can never exist. St Augustine once observed that through the gift of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost we form a temple of the Holy Spirit. It wasn’t so much, he thought, that we each became a temple, but that by virtue of the Spirit, we together form a single living temple of the Holy Spirit. As that temple, as a Church and as a communion of local churches, let us offer true worship to God our Father in His Son Jesus Christ. It is in our being together that we model the Trinity and in our community that we are saved.
