Sunday 12th August 2007TRINITY X

Fr Julian Browning

Genesis  15  :  1 – 6 ; Hebrews  11  :  1 – 3  &  8 – 16 ; Luke  12  :  32 – 40

For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.    Luke 12.34

The centre of the world is not us, after all, it is God and nothing matters more than the coming of his kingdom.

When we pack a suitcase to go on holiday, we decide what to put in it and what to leave behind. It's a matter of priorities and need. But without that departure date, we wouldn't make those choices. The Gospels reveal the aimlessness of a life without priorities, and then reveal the treasure of a life centred on God. We're very slow on the uptake, almost as slow as the disciples who in fits and starts come to know the mind of God, where God's treasure is, what and whom God loves. On the Feast of the Transfiguration on Monday we heard a voice from heaven, saying: This is my Son, my Chosen, listen to him. The Greek word for listen in this case doesn't just mean listen now; it means, keep listening, listen for ever, be attentive for ever to what Jesus says to you. The Gospels, which are so simple and so direct, are also very finely woven; words, like patterns, are repeated and echoed, to reveal what God thinks, what God loves. Where your treasure is, there will your heart be also. These words are also in St.Matthew's Gospel in that marvellous sentence used at the offertory in the Book of Common Prayer communion service. Lay not up for yourselves treasure upon the earth; where the rust and moth doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven... If said with enough menace, it can guarantee a ten per cent increase in the collection.

If it was just about money, we would do something about it; money we can control, hold back, haggle with God, the usual scam. But much more is at stake than just the pension fund. We are what we love. What we love defines us. We will become what we love. So we must at some point stand back from whatever preoccupies us in this life, and see the slavery to which that can lead, the corruption and raggedness of our life, motheaten to use Jesus' unforgettable metaphor, and the fear that can control us, the fear of the thieves who will take away what is valuable to us. Remember that the Gospel is neither politically or socially correct. It stands against the spirit of this age. Former generations could accept criticism through the Gospel, although I don't suppose anyone likes being told they've got moth and rust. But our generation sees criticism as an infringement of rights somehow. So what Jesus says seems harsh to us. That is because the voice we are hearing, the voice of Jesus, is harsh and urgent. The time is short. As the Gospel chapters get into double figures, this urgency, this tension, becomes more and more apparent. The coming of the Kingdom is imminent, priorities must change, the narrow gate stands at the end of an arduous path. It might suit us to airbrush out of our Bibles this demanding insistent prophetic figure. We prefer, or I prefer, the calm Victorian Jesus, in spotless white, talking gently over a picnic with his slightly grubby disciples. But if we want to hear the voice of God, if we want to know what to love and where the treasure is, then we must start to listen to God's Son. First, the possessions have to go overboard. Earthly goods are to be exchanged for an imperishable currency. Next to go are the ties of kinship, the family, because they will hold you back. What all this is leading up to, the climax of our preparations for entering the Kingdom of God, is the total sacrifice of the self. The sign of the true disciple is the willingness to take up his or her Cross.

Meanwhile, in St.Cyprian's Clarence Gate, and in most other Anglican churches, we coast along the green Sundays after Trinity enjoying the summer, and this Gospel urgency, this end of the world as we know it stuff, the girding of loins and burning of lamps, is most unwelcome. When we listen to the Gospel, really hear it, it can be frightening, because we are so clearly unprepared for it, and in no state to do anything about it. So we put it off, deal with it later, do some more reading. This is the human condition which Jesus understands. It's perfectly normal to resist the coming of the Kingdom, and to turn religion into a part time hobby, because our treasure is not there, in heaven, our treasure is here, in ourselves, our jealously guarded secrets. Our treasure is the perishable stuff of our own opinions, what we think God might be like, what we believe to be true, ideas that wear out like old purses or wallets, beliefs that are hijacked or stolen by others and ridiculed, all is relative, subject to change and decay. We have fashioned religion for ourselves; it is part of our personal fulfilment.

Treasure in heaven is a quite different currency. It does not perish because it does not change. This is the way, the truth and the life. The Christian revelation develops, but how can truth change? The centre of the world is not us, after all, it is God and nothing matters more than the coming of his kingdom. This is what happens when we step out of our little world of self-esteem into the world of faith, described in today's epistle as the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. This is the step which Jesus encourages his disciples to take, while knowing their fear, while understanding their reluctance. Do not be afraid, He says. A lot of what we do in church is about calming that fear, preparing ourselves to take yet more steps in faith. Where our treasure is, there will our heart be also. One of the psalms appointed for today is Psalm 33, which ends: For our heart shall rejoice in him: because we have hoped in his holy name. Let thy merciful kindness, O Lord, be upon us: like as we do put our trust in thee.