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To find an illustration of today’s Gospel all you need to do is to catch a bus down to the Mound and enter the National Gallery. There you will find a painting by the 17^th century Dutch artist Jan Vermeer entitled Christ in the house of Martha and Mary. He was only 23 years old when he painted it and it’s very different from the serenely detailed domestic interiors for which he is best known. The room in which the scene is set is only sketchily painted, and because of that our attention is focused on the three figures. Jesus is seated and his face is the only one which is fully lit. Martha is bending over and placing a basket containing a loaf of bread on a table. Her face is half in shadow, her lips are pursed, and her eyes are downcast. Vermeer captures the moment just after Martha, while acknowledging Jesus as Lord, has questioned him in a distinctly critical tone of voice:

“…do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone?”

Jesus is looking towards Martha, but with his right hand he is pointing towards Mary, who is seated on a low stool at his feet. Her face is completely in shadow, yet we can see that her eyes are open and that her attention is focused on Jesus. And there’s another telling detail, something that isn’t in the Gospel account. Mary’s feet are naked. She recognises that she is in the presence of the divine, remembering perhaps the story of Moses and the burning bush, and how God commanded Moses:

“…take your sandals off your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”

Today’s three Bible readings all reflect in different ways on two linked themes – recognition and response. 

In the Genesis reading, Abraham somehow instantly recognises that the three men who have arrived at his tent, three strangers, are in some mysterious way God. He addresses them as “Lord” and offers hospitality. The actual job of providing the hospitality falls to his wife Sarah and the unnamed young man who has to slaughter, dress and cook the calf and we can instantly see a resemblance to our Gospel story of Mary and Martha. Abraham, like Mary, stays with the divine visitors, while Sarah and the young man, like Martha, do all the practical preparations which enable Abraham to act as host. It is Abraham who does the recognising, but the responding is left to others. There’s an enjoyable irony in the fact that the message which the mysterious strangers have come to deliver is as much for Sarah, confined to the tent and to housewifely duties, as for Abraham. God’s earlier promise to Abraham will be fulfilled and Sarah, though advanced in years, will bear him a son.

Martha and Mary both recognise Jesus as someone special. Martha not only welcomes him but addresses him as “Lord”. Yet her responses aren’t appropriate. We hear that

“she is distracted with much serving”

Mary’s response to Jesus is shocking in a way that isn’t at first obvious to us. We are told that

“Mary sat at the Lord’s feet and listened to his teaching.”

By doing so, Mary is choosing to be a pupil, to be a disciple and that was something that women were not permitted to do. Martha’s irritation with her sister arises not only from the fact that Mary isn’t helping in the kitchen, but that she is defying convention.

What then are we to make of Jesus’ response to Martha?

“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her.”

He isn’t criticising Martha for busying herself preparing the meal. We need to remember that this story comes immediately after the parable of the Good Samaritan, in which Jesus emphasises the practical, helpful nature of the love that we are called to show to our neighbours. Martha’s problem is that that she is “anxious and troubled about many things”. The Greek word translated as troubled is very strong, suggesting inner turmoil and disturbance.

St Benedict, whose Rule, almost fifteen hundred years after his death, still shapes the lives of monks and nuns and others who have encountered his teachings, believed that work can be a form of prayer and famously taught that:

“To pray is to work. To work is to pray”

By getting into a tizzy of the kind that we all fall into from time to time, Martha has failed to respond to the presence of Jesus by being just as attentive to the preparing of the meal which she will serve to Jesus as Mary is attentive to what Jesus is saying. 

In today’s Gospel Martha and Mary both recognise that Jesus is special, but it is Martha who will, shortly before Jesus’ death, express that recognition in a more precise way.

“Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

Her words point us forward to today’s Epistle, which is also about recognition and response. It was written at most thirty years after the Resurrection, and it shows how quickly and how fully Christians came to articulate their beliefs about the divinity of Christ, recognising Him as:

“…the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation.”

“…by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible…”

And the response for which Paul calls is that his readers should

“…continue in the faith, stable and steadfast, not shifting from the hope of the gospel that you heard…”

That stability and steadfastness can be expressed in work, if it is done attentively and to the glory of God and for the benefit of others, as well as in prayer. George Herbert expressed that beautifully in a poem which we use as a hymn, a poem which is all about recognition and response.

Teach me, my God and King,

In all things Thee to see

And what I do in anything, 

to do it as for Thee.

And I can’t help wondering whether Herbert had Jesus’ words to Martha, fretting about her domestic duties, in mind when he included these lines:

 A servant with this clause 

 Makes drudgery divine: 

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws, 

 Makes that and th' action fine.

We have just heard this morning three splendid readings from scripture, which we would do well to read, mark and inwardly digest. They have much in common, but what I’d like to consider more deeply is that each in its own way constitutes a challenge, first obviously to those who heard or read the actual texts but second, no less, a challenge to us in our Christian lives.

Beginning with the passage from the Book of Deuteronomy. This is an enormously complex and important book. It was discovered in the course of repairs to the Temple instituted during the reign of King Josiah, in approximately 622 B.C., as part of Josiah’s wide-reaching reform of Judaism as it then stood. Deuteronomy purports to be a restatement of the whole of Jewish law. To give validity to it, the words are placed in the mouth of Moses, who is on his deathbed. The Israelites have at long last reached the river Jordan after forty years wandering in the wilderness. Moses foresees that even after they get into the Promised Land, they will stray from their covenant obligations. So he is challenging them to return, to stay faithful to their God. He reminds them that Torah, the Jewish Law is not something that is far off and inaccessible. It is in their very mouths and in their hearts, for them to observe.

So where is the challenge for us? We too are called to be faithful to our God and are reminded that his law is not something far off but is for us to observe in our daily lives.

The short letter from Paul to the Colossians was almost certainly written while Paul was in prison in Ephesus, around the year 62 A.D. Paul had never been to Colossae, a city in what is now western Turkey. The Christian community there had been founded by Epaphras, who was himself a native of Colossae. But, perhaps just because he had not himself been there, Paul was concerned for the Christian community there, in spite of the fact that reports of the community were good. 

It does not come into today’s passage but later in the letter it is clear that, as in other Christian communities, the local people were being misled by false teaching about Jesus Christ and the Gospel. This is the basis of Paul’s concern for them. Because he is in prison, all he can do is to pray for them, so he assures them of his prayers for their well-being. The only hint that all is not well comes towards the end of the passage, when Paul prays “may you be prepared to endure everything with patience”.

Wherein lies the challenge for us in this letter? I think it is all too easy for us to forget that there are dear people praying every day for each one of us, for our well-being as Christians, for our preservation from the forces of sin and evil, for our health and happiness. Let us in turn remember them and be thankful for their goodness and persistence.

Finally, we come to today’s gospel reading. This , which I think we all know, presents challenges from the opening words to the end. The lawyer “stands up to test Jesus”.  When Jesus responds with a question, the lawyer gives the right answer, repeating the two great commandments from Jewish law. But he goes on to challenge Jesus, “who is my neighbour?” Then comes the parable.

A man is stripped, beaten and abandoned on the road between Jerusalem and Jericho. Who was this man? And why was he travelling alone on a road know to be dangerous? We are not told and I don’t think we should make assumptions. He may or may not have been Jewish.  A priest sees him and “passes by on the other side”, perhaps afraid that the bandits may still be lurking around, or perhaps afraid that, if he touches the wounded man, he will become unclean and unable to participate in the synagogue rituals. A Levite, a type of priest, also passes by on the other side.

Then a third man comes on the scene. A Samaritan. He is moved with pity, treats the victim’s wounds, puts him on his own animal and takes him to an inn and takes care of him. The next day he leaves money with the innkeeper for the care of the wounded man, and promises when he returns to repay the innkeeper for any further money he has spent.

This parable is full of challenges for us, and in an age where there is so much knife crime, violence and misery on our streets, it is almost impossible to know how we should respond. I am sure that all too often we “pass by on the other side”. We find the homeless frightening; we wonder if they are on drugs and if we will be attacked if we make any gesture of help.

So we need the reminder of this great parable, and its challenge to us. I acknowledge that too often I have passed by on the other side. I will try to do better.

32 years ago I was ordained priest and for me the opening sentence from today’s Gospel is very apt:

“The Lord appointed seventy others and sent them on ahead of him in pairs to every town and place where he himself intended to go.” Luke 10:1

At the time I was ordained I thought that it was significant that the service took place on the 4^th July – American Independence Day! With the emphasis on ‘Independence’! I thought to myself; ‘Now I can go it alone, now I can change the world and more importantly the Church’ and of course I intended to do it all on my own as well. I didn’t need the help of others to do this – how quickly I realised that I was so wrong.

I was not, nor are any of us called or ordained to minister alone. For a start it is not my ministry that I exercise, it is Christ’s in which I share. My ministry only has validity when it is seen in relationship to that of Jesus - ordination is only one aspect of Christ’s ministry and my ordination as priest is only a part of the ministry to which I am called to by virtue of my baptism. Over the past 33 years of ministry as deacon and priest I have come to appreciate that my vocation to ordained ministry can only be seen in conjunction with the baptismal ministries of all my brothers and sisters in the faith. That is why for me Luke’s words:

“..in pairs..” and “..to every town..”    are vital and inspiring. 

Mission is vital for the life of the world and the life of the Church for it is through mission that the world can learn of the joy of Christ and the liberation of the Gospel message he proclaims. It is mission, mission that flows from the heart of God, that enflames, informs and inspires our ministry- mission and ministry cannot be separated or seen alone.

There are few of us committed to the ways of Jesus in the 21^st Century; 

“ The harvest is plentiful, but the labourers few.”   Luke 10:2

but there is a whole world, out there, that has yet to hear his voice and who long for it, even if they have yet to realise it. Alone we can never hope to even begin to reap the harvest but together……the possibilities are endless.

The priesthood in which I share is nothing to do with me alone I have been called to ordination on your behalf and on the behalf of all the baptised to go out into the world and do those things that you do not have time to do and to enable you into the ministries that you are called to follow; for together we have the potential to do many things that alone we could not achieve. Together we can shout the Good News louder than we can on our own and together we can support and encourage each other to always go on and do more.

Mulling over the prospectus of the boarding school to which I was bound, my father discovered that one of the hobbies on offer was printing, and he encouraged me to give it a try. Some weeks later I turned up at the ramshackle building which housed the school printing press and signed on as an apprentice. Older pupils explained what was in store. One tradition, having your head tapped against the polished flat stone used to level the type sounded scary. But there was a genuine treat to anticipate, the Wayzgoose, the annual printers’ feast. I was told that to earn my place at the feast I had to qualify as a compositor by passing a test. This would involve typesetting the Lord’s Prayer (this was, after all, a Methodist boarding school) in not more than fifteen minutes, and it had to be justified - and at this point it may be dawning on you how this reminiscence relates to today’s Epistle, for in it St Paul tells the Christians in Galatia that:

“…the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith.”

In traditional letterpress printing, justification meant ensuring that there was a straight right-hand margin as well as a straight left-hand margin. Nowadays I could type the Lord’s Prayer on my computer in a fraction of fifteen minutes and justify it with a couple of mouse clicks. If you’re setting up text using movable type, justification involves filling up whatever space is left at the end of a line by inserting small lead spaces between words and sometimes very small ones called hair spaces between the individual letters of a word. When we took the test, we were not allowed to cheat by ending a line in the middle of a word and using a hyphen. Thanks to expert tuition, I passed first time and earned my place at the Wayzgoose, which turned out to be a fish and chip supper at a local cafe - a big improvement on school food. 

It’s interesting that printers took a theological term, justification, and applied it to one of the skills of their craft. It was appropriate that they did, for one of the key meanings of justification is making things right, and to make things right you need to provide what’s missing, to fill up whatever space there is. That’s a helpful clue to part of what St Paul meant when he wrote about justification by faith. 

As a young man Paul had been brought up to believe that obedience to the Law was all that God required. As a Pharisee he had been particularly strict in his observance of the Law. His dramatic encounter with the Risen Christ on the road to Damascus gave him a powerful sense of his own sinfulness and inadequacy - of the spaces in him that needed filling. He came to realise that the love of God was not something that could be earned by obedience to the Law or by any other kind of effort, indeed not something that needed to be earned. All that was needed was acceptance of the love of God embodied and enacted by Jesus. That’s what he meant by faith - not just believing in a set of propositions about who Jesus was and about the significance of his Passion and Resurrection, though the propositions are important and helpful. Faith is acceptance of the love of God embodied and enacted by Jesus. 

To accept love is to open oneself up. It’s rewarding and the reward comes in the form of fulfilment - the meeting of our needs - the filling up of the spaces in us.  But for Paul there was more to justification than the filling up of spaces. He understood that to accept love should also involve accepting a vocation to live lovingly. He also understood that in accepting that vocation we receive the grace of God which enables us to live lovingly. We are justified, we are made right, in order to play a part in the God’s purpose of making the whole of creation right. 

You can see that theme of vocation in today’s Gospel story of Jesus healing the man possessed by demons. Jesus has crossed the Sea of Galilee to the eastern side and has clearly landed in an area inhabited by Gentiles - the fact that there was a herd of pigs, an animal regarded as unclean according to Jewish Law is evidence of that. The unfortunate man is doubly unclean - he’s naked and he’s living among tombs, which were also regarded as unclean. Once the man is healed, restored to his right mind, the local people ask Jesus to leave. Whoever owned that herd of pigs must have been particularly angry with him. And when the man who has been healed asks Jesus whether he may accompany him, he is given his vocation:

“…but Jesus sent him away, saying “Return to your home, and declare what God has done for you.” So he went away, proclaiming throughout the city how much Jesus had done for him.”

St Paul makes the point about the Christian vocation beautifully in his letter to Christians in Ephesus.

“For we are what God has made us, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand to be our way of life.”  Ephesians 2:10

The Greek word which is translated as “made” is poiema, from which we derive our word poetry, and the great New Testament scholar Bishop Tom Wright suggests that the phrase “we are what God has made us” could helpfully be translated as “we are God’s poetry”. 

Poetry moves us, poetry makes us see the world and see people in new ways. In accepting the love of God embodied and enacted by Jesus we can become part of God’s process of putting things right. We are called to be God’s poetry and, in Tom Wright’s words:

“…to break open existing ways of looking at things and spark the mind to imagine a different way of being human.”

There’s a great need for that in a world marred by conflict, cruelty and prejudice. That’s our vocation, to:

“…spark the mind to imagine a different way of being human”.

Some time ago – a parishioner of St Nicolas Cranleigh - I can’t remember who – said to me: “I can never get my head around the Trinity.” I went on thinking about that for some days and realised that I couldn’t get my head around the Trinity either.

So on this Trinity Sunday morning, it is right for us all to go back to basics and look at what we understand by “the Trinity”. The actual concept of the Trinity does not occur in Scripture. It is a doctrine formulated by the early Church Fathers, based on their experiences and deepening understanding of God, of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, and of some passages in Scripture, such as the lessons from the Gospel of John and from the letter to the Romans which we have just heard. Like most doctrine, it is a human attempt to put into words something which cannot ever actually be expressed in words, and is therefore only in part adequate.

The Articles of our Religion tell us that the Trinity is made up of three persons, who are one and indivisible. These are God the Father, his Son Jesus Christ our Lord, and the Holy Spirit. So let’s look first at God the Father.

There are no words to describe him, but we know a bit about God. He is supreme majesty, eternal, all powerful and all knowing, the source of life, love, truth and beauty. He is the creator of the world. It is his and he loves it. He revealed himself first to the Israelites, who experienced him as a great and loving God, constantly faithful to his promises. He was and is beyond the world and beyond our understanding. 

But God is also active in the world. When he came to the end of creating the world and its inhabitants, he made a glorious garden for the first humans. Although they disobeyed him and were expelled from the garden, God continued to watch over and care for their descendants. He liberated them from slavery to the Egyptians. He made a covenant with them to lead them to a land flowing with milk and honey, and to preserve them there if they would keep his laws. Though the Israelites broke those laws time and time again, God remained forgiving and faithful to them.

And through his prophets God promised that one day a Messiah would come to redeem his sinful and disobedient people.

I do most passionately believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and earth. But get my head around him? No, I can’t, and do you know, I wouldn’t want to. Because then he would be a God of my thought and imagination, not the unknowable and glorious being he is. 

So we come to the second person of the Trinity, our Lord and Saviour, God the Son, Jesus Christ. We know a bit more about him. He was born from a human woman, so was truly man. But in the love of God the Father he was conceived by the Holy Spirit, so he was also truly God. He was raised as a Jew and knew the Jewish laws. For about thirty-three years he lived and taught in Galilee and Judea. He fed the hungry, healed the sick and raised the dead. 

But he did not hesitate to ignore minor bits of the Jewish law. Even worse, he proclaimed a vision of the Messiah and of the Kingdom of God which was totally different from the idea which the Jewish authorities had. They expected a triumphant earthly King. Jesus declared that the Messiah was to be a God of love and that the kingdom of God in the hearts and minds of his people would be a kingdom of love, service and suffering. Eventually the Jews had enough of his challenge to their thinking and authority. They arranged for Jesus to die a criminal’s death of crucifixion.

And then by the love of God Jesus rose from the dead. He appeared several times to his disciples and followers, some of whom, notably Peter, had in moments of inspiration already recognised Jesus for who he was – and is. Then he ascended into Heaven. From then on all his disciples began really to comprehend that Jesus was the Son of God and the promised Messiah and that, although they could no longer see him, he was forever alive.

But there is a dimension to Jesus which is beyond space and time. As people in the early church thought about Jesus and worshipped him, they came to realise that he in his person was in fact the self-expression of God the Father. He revealed what God is and for all time has been. If this was so, then Jesus was with God from the very beginning. John the evangelist expressed this in words which we all know: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God”. So Jesus was fully human; he lived a human life and died a human death, but he was also fully God the Word, existing before the beginning of time.

I believe passionately in Jesus, the Son of God, who was born of the Virgin Mary, died, rose from the dead and ascended into heaven, and who was and is the eternal Word of God. But can I get my head around him? No, I can’t do that either.

So we come to the third person of the Trinity, God the Holy Spirit. The Spirit existed from the beginning; we are told in Genesis that “the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters”. All through the Old Testament we are told of workings of the Spirit.

But before he died, Jesus promised his disciples that, when he was gone from them, the Father in Jesus’ name would send the Holy Spirit to be their Advocate and to bring to their recollection all that Jesus had said and done. The Spirit came at Pentecost: a mighty wind and double tongued flames, the Holy Spirit in his full glory. The disciples were transformed from the small group of followers of Jesus, terrified of the Jews, into brilliant believers who dared, at the risk of torture or death, to proclaim to the world that Jesus had risen from the dead and was alive, and that he was the Messiah long promised by God. 

That Spirit was outside the disciples but also entered into each of them. That is the Spirit with which we are blessed today, who helps us to worship and to pray and who prays with us, who enables us to perceive beauty, truth and goodness in the world around us, and who unites us in fellowship with God the Father and God the Son. 

I do most passionately believe in the God the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life – but I can’t get my head around the Spirit either.

We are most greatly blessed by and in our Trinitarian God, whom we worship as three in one and one in three. But – a word of caution. It is difficult to talk about the Trinity, so often writers and speakers will name just one of the persons, a kind of shorthand for the whole. We may need to adjust our thinking and understanding to recognise this. So for example we read that “God sent his Son into the world,” and it’s easy to think that only God the Father is meant, but that is not so. The Trinity is one and indivisible – so Jesus was sent into the world by the Trinity, by God the Father, and God the Word, and God the Holy Spirit.

In a moment we will say together the Creed, our great common statement of belief. We will never get our heads around the Trinity; it is above and beyond our limited human comprehension and experience and our capacity for speech. Beyond the stars, eternal – and yet dwelling in each one of us. What we as Christians are called to do is to believe in the Trinity, to commit ourselves to the Trinity, and to give unending praise and thanks for our one God in three persons.