Our retreat this year takes us back to basics. It focuses on Jesus of Nazareth. In particular, it focuses on his efforts to inaugurate a step-change in human behaviour. He tried to lift people out of the selfishness of the kingdom of 'I' into that selflessness that is the hallmark of the kingdom of God. In our addresses, we shall focus on his efforts. In our prayers we shall focus upon the relevance of that story in our own efforts to bring about a similar step-change in our own lives. You will also be invited, in the time between sessions here in chapel, to undertake a course of complementary studies.
In the addresses this weekend, we shall follow the story of Jesus' efforts to introduce a step-change in human behaviour and attitude. We will do so with the aid of a document hitherto unknown to Christian scholarship. This is the recently discovered Testament of Christ. The document appears to have been written by Christ himself in the period between the Resurrection and the Ascension. Its purpose seems to have been to offer to his by then very confused disciples, a clear and systematic account of his ministry. It begins by telling how this mission was born. It goes on to tell how he tried to carne out that mission, of the obstacle that he encountered, and what he did to overcome it. It concludes by speaking of what it is like when the step change has finally been made, and of the task that now faces the disciples themselves.
In the meditations that follow the addresses, we will reflect on the relevance of Jesus' mission for our own efforts to introduce a step-change in our own lives. We shall look back to the people and events which first led us to embrace this ambition. We shall look at our attempts to pursue it. We shall review our efforts to become better people. We review our efforts to overcome the selfishness and self-centredness that holds us back. And we will remind ourselves of the goal that we are striving for: to become not just ourselves but our own best selves.
To complement what goes on here in chapel you are also invited to engage in a course of private study. Already scholars have been led to remark on the very close correspondence between the Testament of Christ and the Gospel according to St. Luke, a correspondence so close that some have already been led to suggest that the Testament of Christ may be an important but hitherto unknown source for the gospel itself. Given this close correspondence, you might find it helpful to read St. Luke's Gospel in parallel with the addresses. If so, a handy timetable listing the chapters relevant to each address can be found on tonight's service sheet.
There, then, is the agenda for this year's retreat. Now it's down to the business. We shall begin with a brief son et lumiere that establishes the focus of the session. Then come the little late-night service of Compline, followed by the first address.
Retreat 1
My brothers, You are, I know, more confused than ever. You were confused when I was alive. I didn't behave as you expected me to. You were confused when I died. That wasn't the end that you had in mind. Now, just when you'd written me off, and decided that the whole thing was a terrible mistake, I've returned from the dead, and forced you to re-think the whole thing yet again. I thought, therefore, that it might be helpful if I set out for you clearly and simply what I was trying to do, what led to things taking the course that they did, and where I hope it will all eventually lead. Such a testament will, I believe, lead you both to understand more clearly what has already happened, and to see more clearly the way ahead. Let me begin by describing how it all started, by describing the two great influences by which God shaped my thinking.
The first influence was that of my parents. They were people of scrupulous orthodoxy. When I was born they ensured that all the requirements of the law were strictly fulfilled. In accordance with the law set out on Leviticus I was circumcised on the eighth day and given my name. In accordance with the law set out within Exodus, I was brought, as a first-born son, to be presented and offered to the Lord and a fee was paid for my redemption. My mother scrupulously observed the ritual of purification, and she and Joseph made the appropriate offering. My parents introduced me to the forms of faith but they also did something far more important. They made the person of God real to me. They brought me to know him as a loving father. I called him "Abba" "dad".
This God became the central figure in my life, closer to me even than my own parents though I only realised this when, after I became a bar-Mitzvah, we made a celebratory trip to Jerusalem. We went to the Temple. I loved it there. It was my father's house, and there I could talk about him with the most devout and learned men in our country. I got so absorbed in these discussions that I lost all track of time. The Nazareth pilgrims set off back for home and my parents, assuming I was with someone else in the group, set off with them. It was only hours later that they realised I was not and came back looking for me. They found me still in the Temple. I couldn't understand their anxieties. It was obvious where I would be. I said to them, "How is it that you sought me? Did you not know that I must be in my father's house?" I said it without thinking. It was only when I saw their startled and hurt reaction that I realised the implications of what I'd said. It was an acknowledgement that God and not they was now the central figure in my life.
The second influence that contributed to the shaping of my mission was that of my kinsmen, John the Baptist. It was he who inspired me with the whole idea of mission. He and I used to play together when we were children but then, after the death of his parents, he was taken off to live with the Essenes at Qm'ran. I lost track of him. Now I heard he was operating as a preacher/prophet down in the Jordan valley. I went to hear him. I was drawn to do so partly because he was my cousin but also because, from all that I could hear, he was a man speaking out of an intense and living relationship with God. That appealed to me greatly. Over the years I had risen to be a respected member of our synagogue in Nazareth but while I enjoyed worshipping there, the worship never wholly satisfied me. It seemed lifeless. The religion as taught by the Pharisees who staffed the synagogue was all about rules. It never seemed to touch that deeply precious personal relationship with God as a loving father that to me lay at religion's heart. What I found when I got to the Jordan astonished me. John, as you know better than l, for some of you had worked with him for some time before I got there, was an awesome figure. He stalked the wilderness clad in a coat of camel's hair and subsisted on a diet of locusts and wild honey. But his real impact lay in his words. He made God, and particularly God's judgement, real to people. He didn't mince his words. He deferred to no-one. All who came to hear him were forced to confront their own short-comings, to recognise how near they stood to damnation, and to repent.
John inspired me to follow the missionary ideal, but the content of my mission drew not so much on John's teaching as on the faith I had been nurtured in at home. Like John, I recognised that the human race was a fallen race. Like John, I recognised that it needed to be rescued. Like John, I saw the way to effect such a rescue was to bring people back into a living relationship with God. John sought to do this by confronting people with the terrible anger of God and awakening fear but I wanted to take a different route. I wanted to make people aware of God's love for them. I wanted to introduce them to that loving father ('Abba') who ever since my childhood had been the central figure of my life. I wanted to let them know that, however far they had fallen, however far they had strayed, God still loved them, valued them, appreciated them, and longed for their return. Knowing such a God would, I knew from my own experience, not only lead people to be sorry for what they had done wrong, it would draw to the surface everything that was good in them.
It was for this mission that I offered myself to God. I did so by entering the Jordan to be baptised by John. My offer was accepted. I saw the heavens open. I felt myself filled with power. I heard a voice from heaven saying: "Thou art my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased." But while at that stage I had a mission policy, I didn't have a mission strategy for putting it into practice. It was to develop such a strategy that I went alone into the wilderness.
Retreat 1
We have looked, Lord, at the events that led up to your baptism. We recognise, of course, that your baptism was unique. But we recognise also that it is unique in degree but not in kind. To every-one the voice speaks. On everyone the Spirit descends. From everyone a response is patiently awaited.
At your baptism a voice spoke: "This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased." That same voice speaks the same words over every child that is born into the world. Every-one is loved, everyone is precious in the eyes of their loving Father. You heard the voice directly. We have to be made aware that it has spoken. The process begins at baptism. The priest holding us in his or her arms bespeaks your love for us. The process is continued as we grow up and people and events make us aware of your love.
At your baptism, you saw the Holy Spirit descending upon you in the form of a dove. You felt yourself filled with power from above. We do not see the Spirit descending, but we do grow to recognise that we too have been given gifts, aptitudes, and capacities. The gifts may be particular talents. The aptitudes may be the ability to develop particular skills. The capacity we discover may be to love and be loved; to be understood and to understand; to give and to receive: to pardon and be pardoned.
At your baptism you offered your life to God. Formally that stage comes in our own lives at Confirmation. Actually it may come at any time. Whenever it is, and however gradually it is arrived at, we take the decision to put all we have and all we are at your service. We factor into our thinking about the future a new consideration: "What is it that God would want me to do?"
Lord, we give thanks that we are loved by you; valued by you; and precious to you no matter how unworthy we may seem of such love.
We thank you for all those people and events that have made us aware of your love and cherished and developed the gifts we have been given and led us to recognise and to value the capacities we possess.
Conscious of your love and grateful for all you have given us, we offer ourselves once more in your service, joining together in the words of the covenant prayer:
I am no longer my own, Lord, but yours.
Put me to what
you will,
rank me with whom you will;
put me to doing; put me to
suffering,
let me be employed for you or laid aside for you,
exalted for
you or brought low for you:
let me be full, let me be empty:
let me have
all things; let me have nothing.
I freely and whole-heartedly yield all
things to your pleasure and disposal.
And now, glorious and blessed God,
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
you are mine and I am yours.
So be it.
And
the covenant made on earth,
let it be ratified in heaven. Amen
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