A Revolution of Heart and Mind

Sermon for Choral Evensong: Matthew11:20-30

In this reading from Matthew’s gospel, we hear some of the strongest words of condemnation to come out of the mouth of Jesus, followed by one of his most soothing invitations.  So let’s put that into context, to see what this passage of scripture could mean for us today. 

Woe to you, Korazin, Bethsaida, and to you, Capernaum.  These towns had witnessed first-hand the miracles that Jesus had performed.  They had heard the prophecy of John the Baptist who said, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near” (Matt 3:2).  They knew the prophecies of old about the coming of a Messiah, who would be born of the house of David.  All of these were fulfilled in Jesus Christ, which should have firmly established his credentials as the Messiah. 

At the very beginning of Matthew’s gospel, the genealogy of Jesus through the house of David is laid out – fourteen generations in all from Abraham to David, fourteen from David to the exile to Babylon, and fourteen from the exile to the Christ (Matt 1:1-17).  And in Matthew 4:23-25, we’re told that ‘Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the good news of the kingdom, and healing every disease and sickness among the people.   News about him spread all over Syria, and people brought to him all who were ill with various diseases, those suffering severe pain, the demon-possessed, those having seizures, and the paralysed, and he healed them.  Large crowds from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea and the region across the Jordan followed him.’

Surely all of this was evidence enough to prove the credentials and identity of Jesus, but as we see by his condemnation of Korazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum, they were not responding to his announcement of the kingdom of God.  In fact, their hearts were hardened against him. 

I have to admit, I have some sympathy towards these people, because sometimes it’s hard to see the wood for the trees.  They didn’t recognise Jesus as Messiah because they knew his parents and his trade in Nazareth.  They didn’t think God could raise a Messiah from there.  Not only that, but he wasn’t the sort of Messiah they were expecting.  Even John the Baptist had questions:  in Matthew 11, verse 2, it says ‘when John heard in prison what Christ was doing, he sent his disciples to ask him “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?”’

Somebody has worked out the odds for one person to fulfil all of the prophecies concerning the Messiah as 1 in 10¹⁵⁷. To illustrate this chance, consider the humble electron.  The electron is about as small an object as we can imagine. If we had a cubic inch of electrons and if we could count them at 250 per minute, it would take 57,000 years to count them. Now mark just one of these electrons and stir it back into the rest of them. The chance for one person to fulfil all the prophecies about Christ is the same chance that a blindfolded person has of finding the marked electron – unless, of course, He is the Son of God.

The gospel is good news, and the good news that Jesus proclaimed was that the kingdom of God was entering into the reality of this broken world to transform it.  Sadly, many are cynical and find this news ‘too good to be true’. 

But if we’re honest, aren’t we all bent a bit towards cynicism when we hear of something that seems too good to be true?  I know that I can be.  And in our worst moments, when life’s events seem to be conspiring against us, aren’t we tempted as well to disregard God’s promises and the teachings of Jesus?  Though we know that Jesus bids us to come to him when we’re weary and burdened, and he promises rest for our souls, is he always the first to whom we turn?

Our society is restless, weary, looking for something, around them, possibly in them, but not knowing where to find the true source of peace and rest.  Many people don’t realise their true need for Christ.  It’s like the story of a man who has a fever... 

As he lies upon his bed, wherever he puts his head becomes hot and uncomfortable. And so he tosses and turns.  He rolls from side to side.  He constantly re-arranges his pillow, thinking that the fever is in the bed and in the sheets, and forgetting that the fever is in him.  No tossing, no turning, no thrashing about will help.  And the same thing is true of the restlessness of our age. We cannot find rest until we are changed within; we will not be relieved from our sense of restlessness and weariness until we realize that there’s no hope in looking anywhere else but to Jesus. 

The sin of Korazin, Bethsaida and Capernaum in our scripture was that they did not ‘repent’.  That is, they did not ‘turn’; they did not turn away from their sin and they did not turn towards Jesus.  And isn’t it typical of mankind?  To desire autonomy, self-sufficiency, ‘I’ll do it my way’?  It’s the doctrine of ‘the Fall’, and humanity’s tendency towards sin, in a nutshell. 

The cynicism of the unrepentant Israelites is often explained as resulting from their misunderstanding what the Messiah would be like, when he came.  And it’s true, they thought the Messiah would be a warrior figure, to take back their towns and villages and cities from Roman occupation.  To this day, Jewish people still pray for the coming of their Messiah, who will be victorious over Israel’s enemies, because that promise is included in the message of the prophets.   

In Jesus’ day, this vision of the Messiah would have required an overthrow of the Roman occupation – it would have required a revolution. It would have required swords, and violence – ‘a holy war against the unholy warriors.  Love your neighbour, [but] hate your enemy; if he slaps you on the cheek, or makes you walk a mile with him, stab him with his own dagger.  That’s the sort of kingdom-vision [the Israelites] had’ (says Tom Wright). What Jesus was offering was a completely different kingdom-vision. 

Interestingly, at the end of Matthew 10 (v32-42), Jesus says that he did not come to bring peace; he came to bring a sword! But we know he didn’t engage in actual physical battle – and so the conclusion is that the sword of Jesus is a ‘spiritual’ sword, and the defeat of Israel’s enemies is a spiritual defeat.  The Israelites hadn’t recognised who their true enemy was: their own hardness of heart.  And we must recognise that’s our real enemy, too – the hardness of heart that so readily provides us with excuses not to believe in the promises of God and of Jesus in our scriptures. 

Jeremiah prophesied (31:33) that the Lord would make a new covenant with Israel, that his law would be put in their minds and written on their hearts – the covenant of grace.  The conversion that must happen when we truly repent or turn away from our sin and towards Christ is a conversion of heart and mind.  It doesn’t matter how often we come to church to hear the gospel if we refuse to allow the gospel to convert us, to turn us, and to change us.  We need a revolution of heart and mind.  

As J. C. Ryle (the first Anglican bishop of Liverpool) said, “Let us settle in our minds that it will never do to be content with merely hearing and liking the gospel.  We must go further than that.  We must actually repent and be converted.” Indifference to the gospel is no different from rejection as far as Jesus is concerned. As Ryle says, “We must actually lay hold on Christ, and become one with Him. Until then we are in dreadful danger. It will prove more tolerable to have lived in Tyre, Sidon, and Sodom, than to have heard the Gospel in England, and at last died unconverted.”

And so, being mindful of Jesus’ warnings at the beginning of this evening’s passage, we can then rejoice for the gift of the promise at the end!  Jesus gives gentle encouragement to all that will hear: ‘Come; take; and learn.’  And the result of following this gracious invitation is that we will ‘find rest.’  Come to Jesus, take his yoke upon yourself, learn from him, and in doing so, you will find rest for your souls.  May we know this truth deeply in our hearts and draw from it the peace and security that Jesus so desires to bring to his people.  Amen. 

Loving our enemies

Midweek sermon:  Luke 6:27-36

This reading is part of what’s sometimes called ‘the Sermon on the Level Place’, and it has both similarities and differences to Matthew’s ‘Sermon on the Mount’.  Luke’s version of the sermon is only ¼ the length of Matthew’s, and just prior to this sermon, in Luke 6:12-16, Jesus is on a mountain where the twelve disciples have been called from a larger group of disciples and given a new title by Jesus: they are now Apostles.  They then go down to a level place where Jesus delivers his sermon to the crowd. 

We see from verses 17-19, the crowd that makes up Jesus’ audience consists of three groups of people:  a very large crowd of disciples, his twelve newly ordained Apostles, and a great number of people from all over Judea, Jerusalem, and the coast of Tyre and Sidon.  So the people listening to Jesus are a diverse group of Jews and Gentiles, many who were troubled with diseases and evil spirits, who came to hear him and be healed. 

The section of the sermon that we’ve heard this morning begins with Jesus saying, “Love your enemies”, and the same phrase is repeated at its close in verse 35.  This part of the sermon is made up of principles that Jesus requests his followers to live by:  do not reciprocate, retaliate, or sink down to the level of your enemy; do not re-act, but act according to the principles of love, forgiveness and generosity, for these are the principles of the Kingdom. 

The Golden Rule is in here, too, verse 31: “Do to others as you would have them do to you”.  The world seems to want to re-interpret that as “Do to others as you have been done by”.  Retaliation is the expected norm.  It’s as if we can’t fight against Newton’s laws of motion which apply to mechanics – Newton’s third law states “To every action there is always an equal and opposite reaction...” 

So how can we fight against our worldly inclination to sink down to the level of our enemy?  At this point I have to say that I can’t think of anyone who I would call my personal enemy.  But I have known people who haven’t liked me, and there have been people who I haven’t liked, but I don’t think I would go so far as to call any of them my enemy. 

I have heard and read stories of people who have had serious enemies, though.  We have probably all heard stories of people who’ve been mistreated, abused or even killed.  The actions of enemies of this kind can be categorised as racism, genocide, child abuse, paedophilia, domestic violence, bullying, discrimination –I’m sure we could all think of other categories of wickedness and evil.  And we might say there are enemies of our country or of our religion, too. 

To love our enemies does NOT mean that justice need not be served.  In the case of a criminal offence, loving our enemy can mean ensuring that perpetrators are brought to justice, for the sake of the victim(s) and for the sake of the offender.  But our spiritual calling remains to love our enemy. 

This has to be one of the greatest challenges for the Christian.  When I was training at ‘vicar school’ we took a field trip to Thorn Cross Young Offender’s Institute where the Revd Shawn Verhey is chaplain.  They run the Sycamore Tree Restorative Justice programme there, where offenders explore the effects of their crimes on the victims, on themselves and on the community, and there’s an emphasis on taking responsibility for their personal actions.  While we were at Thorn Cross, we heard from a woman whose son was killed by one of the young men held there.  This young offender had taken part in the restorative justice programme and so this lady was invited to meet with her son’s murderer.  Eventually through the programme and a lot of soul work this Christian woman told us that she was able to forgive her son’s murderer, and not only to forgive him but she also was beginning to help this young man to change his life as he was preparing for his release from prison. 

Martin Luther King Jr said this:  “Darkness cannot drive out darkness:  only light can do that.  Hate cannot drive out hate:  only love can do that.”  One of my favourite theologians, Miroslav Volf, says:  “The refusal of victims to let violence committed against them contaminate their souls must be one of the most difficult and most heroic acts of which a human being is capable”. 

Love your enemies.  Can you imagine what the world would be like if everyone lived like this?  But in our worldliness, we want there to be another way – a way in which we can ‘get our own back’ – a way in which our enemies are made to ‘pay their debt of pain’, as one sister-in-Christ puts it.  Then she remembers that she never had to pay her debt – we have been bought with the blood of Christ. 

Volf, again, says, “God’s love is broad enough to include evildoers, the worst of them.  We know this because Christ died for their salvation no less than for the salvation of the rest of us who are one and all by nature God’s enemies”.  God has shown mercy to all of us who are rebellious, wayward children.  To be able to love our enemies we must first be very clear about what God has done for us, who are also unworthy.  One commentator (Craddock) says, “Rather than a person hating in response to hatred and loving in response to love, Christian behaviour and relationships are prompted by the God we worship who does not react but acts in love and grace toward all... God behaves with favour toward persons whose life-style does not merit such favour; we are to relate to others with this same graciousness”. 

The kind of love Jesus is talking about in this passage is ‘agape’ love – which is akin to benevolence, compassion and goodwill.  I have trouble even loving those who aren’t my enemies with agape love.  But I do know that loving difficult people is much easier when you pray for them.  Jesus says, “Bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you”.  If you can begin to pray for your enemy (or enemies), you will begin to see them in a different light.  It’s hard, but it’s not impossible – and Jesus says ‘your reward will be great’, because it is liberating. 

A woman who has suffered much at the hands of enemies, Ann Voskamp, has written a beautiful prayer, on which I have based this prayer:  Bless my enemies, O Lord.  Even I bless them and do not curse them. Enemies have driven me into your embrace more than friends have. Enemies have loosed me from earth more than friends have... Enemies have made me a hunted animal, finding safer shelter than an unhunted animal does.  I found safest sanctuary in You... may too my enemies. I found greatest grace in You... may my enemies find Your generous grace alive and radical in me. I found fullest forgiveness in You... may my enemies find faith and freedom in You and Your forgiveness working surprising ways in me. The longer I walk with you, Lord, I find I have no enemies:  only the gift that you are moulding and shaping me deeply.  Bless my enemies, O Lord.  Even I bless them and do not curse them. 

Give me oil in my lamp

Matthew 25:1-13

I heard someone recently compare Christianity to a Cornish pasty...  there’s definitely something in it, but sometimes it’s difficult to find out what it is – and sometimes you bite down on a hard bit of gristle.  This is kind of like our parable this morning with the virgins and the lamps and the oil (or lack thereof).  There’s definitely something to it, but there are some hard bits, too.

So let’s dig in.  A good place to start is with the context of our passage - where does it fall in the gospel of Matthew.  Going back to chapter 24, Jesus begins by talking about the destruction of the Temple, but the conversation swiftly moves on to some pretty heavy stuff about the End Times.  Matthew’s target audience was mostly Jewish, and he wrote his gospel sometime around the year 90.  By that time, the Temple had indeed been destroyed; the church was growing, including Gentiles; and persecution was common.  The church believed the Second Coming of Christ was imminent – and that it would be sudden and unexpected, like a flood or a thief in the night.  In chapters 24 & 25, Jesus uses parables to warn about the need to be ready – to be prepared for ‘the moment’; a crisis would come sooner or later, so make preparations now, and keep them in good shape in the meantime, or you’ll be sorry. 

These are ‘hard’ teachings – I like to think of them as the gristle in the gospel - those difficult teachings of Jesus that don’t seem to fit in with the ‘soft Jesus’ that perhaps many of us prefer.  We’d just rather there was no ‘judgment’ side to God.  But here’s a question:  if there were no judgment, would we still take God seriously? 

So what do we see in our parable.  The setting is at the ‘end time’, and the main characters are 10 virgins (in some bible translations they’re called ‘bridesmaids’).  At the outset, all 10 of these young women are alike:  all pure, all innocent …and all apparently sleepy!  But we’re told there is a difference between them:  five of them are foolish and the other five are wise.  That tells us this story has its roots in the Jewish tradition of contrasting wisdom with folly (there’s a lot of that in Proverbs, in Ecclesiastes, in other parables from Jesus and in some of Paul’s letters, too).  So, five of the virgins bring their lamps but neglect to bring any oil.  The other five do bring oil along with their lamps.  It’s fairly obvious that wisdom in this case means being ready with enough oil for the lamp, and folly means not thinking about it until it’s too late.  The bridegroom eventually comes, but the only ones who could go with him into the wedding banquet were the ones who were ready.

But hang on a minute - if Jesus is about sharing, wouldn’t it have been nicer for the five ladies who had oil to share it with the others?  

The five who had oil wouldn’t share because they were worried there wouldn’t ‘be enough’ for them all if they did share.  …Sounds a little like our current examples of corporate greed, doesn’t it!  But here’s the thing:  this parable’s not about sharing, because the ‘oil’ in this parable isn’t something that can be shared. 

I want to talk about the meaning of the oil, but first let’s think for a moment about our faith.  Although we share the road with others, our faith journey, in the end, is full of individual choices and decisions along the way:  we’re free to love God, or not; we’re free to love our neighbour as ourself, or not.  And no one can make anyone else pray.  These things are individual choices and practices – they’re attitudes stemming from a personal love for, and relationship with, God.  We can’t buy it, and we can’t share it with others.

So back to our parable, and to the oil.  Now, some people think the oil doesn’t symbolize anything in particular, and that all we need take from this parable is that we must be prepared at all times for the Second Coming.  And that may be true.  But I think it’s helpful to try and imagine what the oil (or a lack of it) might mean.  Because whatever it is, in this parable it’s essential, and at the crucial moment, it can’t be shared out …and money can’t buy it.

Some people might be inclined to think of the oil as good deeds:  have I done enough good to be accepted into the wedding banquet in God’s kingdom?  Others might think that the oil is related to the amount of faith we have – have we got enough faith to get us in to the banquet?  Could we give away some of our faith to others if they needed it?  I’m sure we would if we could.

How about Spirit?  The New Testament has a lot to say about being ‘filled’ with the Spirit – perhaps the oil could be a metaphor for being filled with the Spirit.  I’m reading a book at the moment called The Wisdom Jesus in which the author picks up on a spiritual meaning for the oil in this parable; that these hard teachings of Jesus are not about outward actions, but about inner transformation. She says “the reason the five virgins who have oil can’t give it to the five who don’t is that the oil symbolizes something that has to be individually created in you through your own conscious striving.  Nobody can give it to you; nobody can take it away from you”.  “The oil stands for the quality of your transformed consciousness” – it’s not a feeling, it’s a spiritual substance, impossible to gain by donation from somebody else.

Now, I realize that some people aren’t comfortable dwelling on the spiritual dimension of our faith; while others seem to prefer to focus solely on the spiritual, to the exclusion of the practical! – But we shouldn’t be quick to separate the two.  Our practical actions, when we perform them as a response to the love of God that we’ve recognized in Christ through his Spirit, will always be accompanied by a certain substance – I like to think of it as an attitude; if our actions as Christians aren’t based on a spiritual attitude, then we probably need to check our motives. 

Metaphorically speaking, when we’re at the door of the wedding banquet, Jesus will recognize us by our oil – our spiritual attitude; this is the oil for the lamp that gives out light, and it comes from a personal relationship with Jesus.  That’s what it means to ‘know’ the Lord.  That’s what brings peace and assurance.  It’s easy enough to fill our life with ‘good deeds’.  But let’s remember ‘the gristle in the gospel’ - there’s more to being Christian than just being quite nice – we have to work at our spiritual connection with our Lord and Saviour.  So next time you eat a Cornish Pasty and you bite down on a bit of gristle, may you remember the gristle of the Gospel, and this little parable about the need for oil to put in your lamp.  Being a Christian is not just about doing good deeds; it’s about being attentive to our spiritual relationship with God.  It’s an attitude.  Amen.

Sermon for 9/11 - Matthew 18:21-35

The Parable of the Unmerciful Servant
Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times? Jesus answered, I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times. Therefore, the kingdom of heaven is like a king who wanted to settle accounts with his servants. As he began the settlement, a man who owed him ten thousand talents was brought to him.  Since he was not able to pay, the master ordered that he and his wife and his children and all that he had be sold to repay the debt.  The servant fell on his knees before him. 'Be patient with me,' he begged, 'and I will pay back everything.'  The servant's master took pity on him, cancelled the debt and let him go.  But when that servant went out, he found one of his fellow- servants who owed him a hundred denarii. He grabbed him and began to choke him. 'Pay back what you owe me!' he demanded.  His fellow- servant fell to his knees and begged him, 'Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.'  But he refused. Instead, he went off and had the man thrown into prison until he could pay the debt.  When the other servants saw what had happened, they were greatly distressed and went and told their master everything that had happened.  Then the master called the servant in. 'You wicked servant,' he said, 'I cancelled all that debt of yours because you begged me to.  Shouldn't you have had mercy on your fellow- servant just as I had on you?'  In anger his master turned him over to the jailers to be tortured, until he should pay back all he owed.  This is how my heavenly Father will treat each of you unless you forgive your brother from your heart.

In the spring I planted several different types of seed in small pots – maybe you did the same.  This year I grew flowers since I knew I wouldn’t be around to harvest vegetables, but generally, no surprises, the seeds I planted grew and flowered and the flowers that came were exactly as it said they would be on the packet. The seeds in the sweet pea packet germinated and grew into sweet peas, the sunflower seeds became sunflowers, and so on for the cosmos, the pansies, and the marigold seeds. We kind of expect that when it comes to gardening, we will reap what we sow. I wonder why it’s so hard for us, then, to translate that expectation to our relationship with God or with other people. In Galatians 6:7, Paul said ‘do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows’.


...So this king was going to sell his servant and the servant’s whole family in order to make up for the large debt owed to him. It must have mattered to the servant that he stay in this particular king’s service rather than get a new master, because he begged the king not to do this. But the king didn’t accept the servant’s promise to ‘pay back’ everything – instead, he cancels the debt unconditionally! The kingdom of heaven is like this, Jesus says.


But instead of being thankful and going on to be merciful to others, the servant becomes a bully, and he treats one of his fellow servants without mercy - first he assaults him and then gets him thrown into prison for the relatively small debt that he owed. The king finds out and makes sure the servant gets back as good as he has given: he reaps what he has sown. Jesus says this is how his Father in heaven will treat those who don’t forgive their brother or sister from their heart.


In one of his speeches, Martin Luther King said that ‘hate begets hate, violence begets violence’, toughness begets even greater toughness’; in the bible, in Matthew 26:52, when Jesus was being arrested and one of his companions draws his sword and cuts off the ear of the High Priest’s servant, Jesus says ‘those who live by the sword, will die by the sword’.


In the parable of the unmerciful servant, if we understand the king as representing God, we see that he offers forgiveness first, before the servant was expected to forgive. In our own life, if we receive the forgiveness that God has given us through the cross - the cancellation of our debt as sinners - but then we refuse to extend forgiveness to others - we have to ask ourselves, why should we be forgiven?


In Matthew 6, Jesus teaches his followers to pray for forgiveness in what we call The Lord’s Prayer: ‘forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us’. Jesus clearly says that if you want forgiveness you’ve got to be prepared to forgive others: he says ‘if you forgive others when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you. But if you do not forgive others their sins, your Father will not forgive your sins’.


So in today’s passage, Peter comes to Jesus and asks, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” ...“I tell you”, Jesus answers, “not seven times, but seventy-seven times”. Jesus is saying ‘don’t even think about counting: just do it’. Because if you’re still counting how many times you’ve forgiven someone, you’re not really forgiving them at all. Forgiveness is tough. But forgiveness is the only appropriate response to evil if we’re not to become what we oppose. We reap what we sow.


There’s a providence to the timing of today’s gospel passage. Today marks the 10th anniversary of 9/11, the devastating terrorist attack that resulted in the deaths of nearly 3000 people and shocked the world. There were two paths forward from the ashes and rubble of 9/11. The first path led to war, torture, and fear: President Bush announced a War on Terror, the aims of which would be to bring Osama bin Laden and al Qaeda to justice and prevent the emergence of other terrorist networks. The response was to engage the forces of many nations in war, in Iraq and Afghanistan, and the result was the further death of many thousands of people, spending of trillions of dollars and billions of pounds. The result was a growth in radicalised groups, of all different allegiances – an increase in hate-crimes, and an increase in fear of ‘the other’. Discrimination, prejudice, stereotyping, vengefulness and violence breeding more violence.


But another path -- led by Christians and people of other faiths, and some of no faith too -- was marked by soul-searching, genuine mourning for the lost and standing up for peace-building, making efforts towards understanding, and caring for our neighbours.


The challenge we face when we are attacked is whether we’re prepared to let go of our need for "vengeance". In the end, if we seek "justice" in that way, we’re not seeking true justice at all – we’re just trying to balance the scales in our favour. The result is always a cycle of more pain. We reap what we sow. And so, once again, as hard as it is, we’re faced with the shocking, persistent call of Jesus Christ, to follow his example, and to offer forgiveness even to those we feel don’t deserve it.


As Christians, we pray to become ‘Christ-like’, which means we want nothing more than to reflect in our lives the love that God is, overcoming selfishness and self-absorption; pursuing love and reconciliation with God, with family, with Church, with people of other faiths, in culture and politics, and with our enemies. Reconciliation has to be at the centre of our mission. In the world to come, there will be no hatred. In the new creation, holding something against your neighbour or your enemy won’t be an option, because God will be all in all – Love will be all in all. That the servant in today’s parable could behave how he did towards his fellow servant – in the new creation, it just wouldn’t enter his mind... and our calling is to work towards that new creation even now.


Nelson Mandela once said there’s 'no future without forgiveness.' It might take a long time, but we can't give up. We’re called to stand up and be instruments of God for making things right in the world. The 10th anniversary of 9/11 is an opportunity for reflection. Imagine its victims looking at the world from heaven... The greatest memorial to those who died ten years ago, and to those who continue to die in the wars after, will be a world more inclined toward peace.


We are right to remember that God is with those who are in pain and suffering. But it would be a distortion of what Christ did for humanity on the cross if at the same time, we didn’t remember Christ’s attitude to those who crucified him: Jesus cries ‘Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do’. If we remember that God is with those who suffer, but do not remember his attitude towards those who inflict the suffering, then we’re not remembering in truth. And if we don’t remember that we are all part of sinful humanity, then we are not remembering in truth.  So may you sow seeds of forgiveness - and may you grow the flowers of peace and reconciliation.


Let us pray: God of mercy, your love overwhelms us with your generous forgiveness. You release us from a debt we can never repay. Open our hearts to extend love and mercy to all who are penitent. And may we persevere in working towards dialogue, peace and reconciliation with those who are not. Through Jesus Christ our Lord, Amen.