At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, just before the story of Jesus’ ascension into heaven, Jesus commands his disciples to ‘go out into all nations and to make disciples, baptising them in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit and teaching the to do everything that He has commanded them.’ The Christian church has heard that command and tried to obey it. You will find Christians in most parts of the world. The Christian family can be somewhat weird and wonderful but, deep in its DNA is the call to mission. Ours is a missionary faith, uneasy about the status quo, restless, on the move (if not literally then in spirit), searching out new places for the gospel to take root. This command to ‘make disciples’ was obeyed by the apostles who spread around the Middle East and was picked up by the great saints who we hold dear: Cuthbert, Aidan and the like. Today is Saint David’s day but we might also think of St Patrick in Ireland, Boniface across in Germany, Anskaar in Denmark and Sweden: ‘Make disciples!’ The Jesuits revived earlier missions to the Far East, the gospel followed or accompanied (take your pick) the colonisation of the Americas and Africa. Many of this country’s brightest and best headed to the Indian Sub-continent in the 19th century and died there carrying with them the charge to ‘Make disciples. Make disciples.’
And yet…our gospel reading makes it clear that ‘the wind blows where it wills’. The Holy Spirt cannot be owned or tamed, and the conversion of men and women to life in Christ is a gift of God not the result of our labour. So in what way can we ‘make disciples? We might pray, we might hope, we might work, we might make plans and see them carried out…but the conversion of heart that brings a disciple to birth is not in our gift. Christians cannot be made to order despite the occasional diocesan pronouncement (not ours I hasten to add) that a scheme or plan will (say) double the number of young Christians in church in 5 or ten years.
I’ve been pondering this on and off all week. What set me thinking was Rabbi Jonathan Sacks comments about our Old Testament lesson. He reminds us that the Abram story began a few verses earlier in chapter 11 where the narrator informed us that Abram grew up in Ur of the Chaldees (modern day Iraq) but accompanied his father Terah to leave Ur and settle in Haran in the north of the country. Jonathan Sacks’s ponderings are around how children must (as a matter of course) move on from the work of their parents. Terah’s journey removed him from a place where there were many gods and possibly began Abram’s gradual conviction in there being only One God…but Abram then had to make this faith his own. He struck out for the ‘promised land’.
For any number of years now we have relied on our children inheriting our faith. Abram came from a family with faith (in what we do not know) but went on to find his own faith…gradually, and not without difficulty. Many of us here grew up in Christian households and, in turn have sought to pass on our faith to our children. But (and there’s no blame here) we haven’t really managed it have we? Why is that?
In more settled times whole families attended worship together. My great grandfather was, I believe, a Methodist lay preacher just outside Hereford. My brother Ian, (who has done the research), believes that he (and his family) warmed to General William Booth’s message when he (the founder of the Salvation Army) came to Hereford and that the family jumped the tracks to became founder members of the Hereford Salvation Army Citadel. That was my great Grandfather. My grandfather was one of 9 children who therefore all grew up in the Salvation Army. These nine all married and had children. My father had dozens of cousins. By the mid-1960s the Citadel was humming with activity. One family had become a church: ‘inherited faith’. But the next generation had to deal with any number of challenges: greater mobility, the pill giving women greater choice over family and career, motor cars were cheaper, the white heat of technology and travel introducing millions to the global village: different faiths, up close. The 60s and 70s brought new ideas, iconoclasm, Jimmy Hendrix, the Rolling Stones. Inherited faith stood little chance. Cultural Christianity is no bad thing – it is better than ‘everyone doing what they think is right in their own eyes’ which really means ‘the weak go to the wall’ – but it lacks Spirit?
I read an article this week about ‘cultural’ Christianity in Sweden. Sweden tends to be regarded as the most secular of European states but, apparently, almost half of Swedes say they are Christians. Of these however, only 5% read their bibles once a month (a pretty low bar you might think) or attend worship. Interestingly however, this 5% is more socially progressive than those others who profess to be Christian but don’t practice any faith activity. This tiny group – who you might imagine would be socially conservative ‘bible reading’ Christians’ – engage more with their neighbours and are more outward looking in the practice of their faith. They also have a more relaxed attitude towards immigration and show a greater involvement with those of different faiths – particularly the Muslim community. Perhaps the research highlights the difference between being culturally Christian and Christianity in practice. As the Bishop of Kirkstall said of the displays of Union Jacks around the country: our task is to help those who claim the cross to understand what it means in love for God and neighbour.
In Cirencester Parish Church last week, I picked up a leaflet advertising an event especially for grandparents and their grandchildren. A neat idea but, of itself, a recognition that the parents of children aren’t likely (or able because of other commitments or disinterest) to attend. This business of passing on faith…or THE faith…is tricky. A full church might be wonderful…but full of disciples?…believers? How do we know whether a person’s faith is real? On what does my ow faith rest? Jesus tells us not to judge lest we be judged ourselves.
Back then to the question ‘what can we do?’ What can we do if ‘finding faith’ or ‘coming to faith’, is such a fragile, delicate, even hidden thing?
I suppose we can ask of ourselves ‘on what does my faith depend.’ Lent is a good time for this sort of question. Self-examination rather than self-absorption. An interesting detail in Abram’s story this morning is that having been told that he will become the father of many nations, Abram covers his bets and takes his nephew with him on the journey. He and Sarai don’t have children. He ‘kind of believes’ God…but takes Lot as a back up (as Prince Harry put it, as ‘a spare’). In the years to come, ‘the spare’ separates from Abram, his replacement (Abram’s servant Eliezar) is ruled out by God and Abram’s slave girls’ child (Ishmael) is blessed but also shown to be ‘not the child of Promise’. Abraham’s faith must be in God alone: every other hope has been stripped from him. This is an uncomfortable place to be. …to have nothing to offer God other than ‘faith, as green as a leaf’ as the Welsh poet RS Thomas puts it. (Another nod to St David’s Day)
So too with Nicodemus. He truly is a wonderful example of someone who has inherited faith shot through him. He is part of the Jewish elite, but he knows deep in himself that this is not enough. He has the form of faith but not the Spirit. The Spirit can only be known when he recognises Jesus for who He is: God Himself ‘descending’ (verse 13) to lift humanity into His presence to share the life of God.’ You’ve gotta have faith, to step out of being self sufficient and to trust in God’s goodness, in the love that reaches to embrace us in the world.
So, what can we do? We can show our dependence upon God in our lives. We can live faith filled lives that set all other relationships in their proper order. We can live lives that echo a pattern of death and resurrection: the cross and new life. We can recognise that which is wrong with the world but without losing hope. We can celebrate that which is good and true. We can encourage generosity of mind and spirit. We can endeavour to understand and forgive, to bring people together rather than to divide them. We can live our Christian values as best we are able: drawing upon the scriptures, breaking bread together, not neglecting to meet in worship and through word and deed commend this way of faith to others. As we do this we can make room for the Spirit of God in our own lives and get out of His way in working as he seeks to work in the lives of others. The ‘wind blows where it wills’: may it blow through this place and catch us all up in God’s work of transforming the world.