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One of the television programmes we have enjoyed over recent years is Britain’s Lost Masterpieces. The concept is a very simple one. Art Historian Dr Bendor Grosvenor picks out a neglected painting which he thinks might be the work of an important artist and hands it over to Simon Gillespie, a picture restorer. We watch as Simon uses solvents and cotton wool swabs to remove layers of dirty varnish and inept overpainting, before carefully touching up any damage. Once the painting has been restored to something very close to its original state, Dr Grosvenor and other experts are able to arrive at a conclusion about which artist was responsible for the work.

In today’s Gospel Jesus speaks of Nicodemus’ need to be “born from above”. In the King James Bible the passage is translated as “born again” and some Christians have taken that to mean a single and dramatic conversion experience and have even argued, wrongly I think, that you aren’t a proper Christian unless you have had that kind of experience. For some of us, the process is more gradual; perhaps the coming to a maturity in which, bit by bit, we accept and own for ourselves the religious upbringing we have received; perhaps the slow realisation that underlying the church music that we enjoy there is a profound and loving reality. That was the way my godmother, who declared herself to be an atheist shortly after escorting my infant self to the font, came to faith towards the end of her life.

It may be more helpful to think about the meaning of that phrase “born from above” by using picture restoration as a metaphor. As a devout member of the religious establishment, Nicodemus knew the Hebrew Bible. He had read and reflected on the passage in Genesis which teaches that human beings are made in the image and likeness of God. What Jesus is suggesting is that, in Nicodemus, that image and likeness had become obscured, perhaps by the over-confidence that can afflict religious leaders, perhaps by a lack of charity. Nicodemus was in short, like all of us, in need of a clean-up, in need of the kind of restoration that would reveal in him the image and likeness of his Creator.

Pictures cannot restore themselves to their original splendour, and neither can we by our own unaided efforts. That is the point that St Paul is making in today’s Epistle, when he makes a distinction between works and faith. It is only by placing our trust in God’s ability to cleanse and restore us that the cleansing and restoration become possible. And Lent is a time when we are reminded of that need for trust, a time to open ourselves by prayer and reflection to the grace of God and to the cleansing and restoration that God’s grace makes possible.

Jesus then goes on to say some very challenging things to Nicodemus, and the challenges reach a climax with these words:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

It’s a verse which is often read in an “us and them” way – “believe in Jesus and you’ll go to heaven, fail to believe in Jesus and you will be damned.”

And that’s a reading which can very easily turn into the kind of religious comfort zone out from which Jesus was trying to draw Nicodemus. The purpose of God’s self-giving, universal and unconditional love is to evoke from human beings a love of exactly the same kind. And Christians do not have a monopoly on that kind of love. As Archbishop William Temple put it:

“Whatever promotes among men love and joy and peace has its source in that divine love which sent the Son into the World, not to judge the world, but that the world may be saved through him.”

The world, not just individual Christians. And the Greek word which is translated as “the world” is kosmos – suggesting the whole of creation.

When St Athanasius, that great fourth century Christian thinker, wanted to explain the reason for the Incarnation, for God’s giving of his only Son, he turned to the idea of picture restoration. Suppose, he suggested, that the portrait of someone is so badly damaged that it is impossible to restore it unless that person can be traced and can sit as a model for the restorer. That is what had happened to humankind.

The image and likeness of God had become so overpainted with selfishness and greed that human beings had lost sight of it in themselves and in other people. Until, that is, Jesus came to show us that image and likeness in reality, in his words and actions and in his Passion and to give us an understanding of what God intends us to be. If we respond to that reality, then God’s work of restoration can proceed.

Athanasius put it like this:

“Even the wood on which the artist painted is not thrown away, but the outline is renewed upon it; in the same way also, the most holy Son of the Father, came to our region to renew humanity once made in his likeness.”

A thought that John Keble took up when he wrote the hymn Blest are the pure in heart.

“The Lord who left the heavens

Our life and peace to bring,

To dwell in lowliness with us,

Our pattern and our King.”

Genesis 2:15-17, 3:1-7

15 The Lord God took the man and put him in the garden of Eden to till it and keep it. ¹⁶And the Lord God commanded the man, ‘You may freely eat of every tree of the garden; ¹⁷but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall die.’ 3 Now the serpent was more crafty than any other wild animal that the Lord God had made. He said to the woman, ‘Did God say, “You shall not eat from any tree in the garden”?’ ²The woman said to the serpent, ‘We may eat of the fruit of the trees in the garden; ³but God said, “You shall not eat of the fruit of the tree that is in the middle of the garden, nor shall you touch it, or you shall die.” ’ ⁴But the serpent said to the woman, ‘You will not die; ⁵for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.’ ⁶So when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and that the tree was to be desired to make one wise, she took of its fruit and ate; and she also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate. ⁷Then the eyes of both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together and made loincloths for themselves.

This story in Genesis of how Eve and Adam gave into temptation is telling. They had everything they needed or could really desire and were happily living in Paradise. Yet they did not realise that and Paradise proved not to be enough for them. There was that one tree, that one fruit that they had been forbidden to eat and that was the temptation. We all know what we humans are like, if you are told that you can’t have something you desire it all the more. How contrary we are, for often the thing we think we really, really want, once we have it, is not what we wanted at all. It was just the thought of having it or the thought that we needed it, was what was desirous. One only has to look at our consumer society and see the debt that many people live with to see this truth. It certainly does not bring happiness getting all that we want or desire, as Eve and Adam discovered.

Both Adam and Eve ignored God’s warning and discovered the pain that wanting too much can bring. Contentment is not something we humans happily embrace. It is a lesson we have to learn or grow into and often we have to do it the hard way. Yet, for some of us until we learn that lesson there is always that itch for more, that bit of discontentment that drives us to desire that which we neither need nor want but think we do.

How much do we actually need? That’s a good question for all of us to ponder over Lent.

Everyone then who hears these words of mine and acts on them will be like a wise person who built their house on rock (Matthew 7:24)

If I was to ask you “do you speak first or do you listen first” what you would say? Are you someone who must always be heard or do you listen first in order to respond appropriately? Recently I listened to radio 3 when they referred to a programme entitled “Deep Listening”. Tom Service was to explore deep listening, a practice created by composer Pauline Oliveros to train performers to listen better and respond to environmental matters. It intrigued me.

Delving further I found out that “deep listening” is a practice that is used for anything from spiritual growth to building better communication pathways within a business or other organisation. Essentially it is about developing the skills required to pay attention to what is being said without bringing too many of our thoughts and prejudices into the equation. This means the ability to listen to and to go beyond simply hearing the words being uttered. Instead, it requires the listener to empathise and relate to what is said without jumping in with counter-arguments or other proposals.

Even in the Church Times, Chatsworth Estate, in Derbyshire, known to many of you, is looking for a part time priest who will be “pastorally gifted, inclusive and a discreet listener”.

On this the last Sunday before the beginning of Lent, my attention was drawn to the headline of a national newspaper last month entitled “University cancels Lent because it is too Christian”.  The London School of Economics has overhauled titles of its traditional terms to be more “international”. For example, “Christmas” is now “winter break”. “Lent term” is now “winter term” and “Easter break” is now “spring term”. The commentator went on to say “This ludicrous decision is more virtue-signalling nonsense that creates exclusion in the name of inclusivity”. 

Our readings today are all filled with action:-

In Deuteronomy, we are exhorted to “put the words of God in our hearts and souls, to bind them as a sign on our hands and to fix them as a emblem on our forehead”.

In Romans, we are encouraged “not to be ashamed of the gospel as it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who has faith”.

In our gospel which closes the Sermon on the Mount, Matthew stands out among the Gospels, by emphasising the significance of doing what Jesus says.  Jesus addresses the disciples while a crowd has been eavesdropping. He ends his teaching with words that send a message – a sobering and challenging one – only those who hear and do his words will enter the kingdom of heaven.  For him, head, heart, will and hands are integrated into a life that trusts God and serves humanity. He calls us to a life of being and doing. Words and deeds are interwoven.

Jesus uses the well-known image of two builders to make his point. No one builds a house in bad weather – too much heat or too much cold impede construction. The foundation must be solid.

As we look towards Lent may we take encouragement from that much loved hymn “The Church is one foundation”

The Church is one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord;

She is his new creation by water and the word:

From heaven he came and sought her to be his holy Bride;

With his own blood he bought her and for her life he died.

Epiphany VI 2023 Year A

A rather hard Gospel to hear this morning as Jesus seems to be telling his disciples and followers that if they follow him they have to be very strict with themselves and each other. That they have to go beyond the injunctions of the 10 commandments. It all sounds very difficult to conform to. Yet, what I think Jesus is doing is encouraging his followers to lead lives of integrity and honesty. Not to say one thing and do another  but to try and live lives that respect other people and to treat others with good intentions. No malice should be in the heart of a follower of Christ and no ill will should be wished upon another. Basically treat each other as you would wish to be treated yourself. I think that teaching holds true as much today as it ever has.

When you say; ‘Yes’ mean  it and when you say; ‘No’ mean it also. This is good advice from Jesus. Have you ever wished you had said; ‘Yes’ to something or ‘No’ and not felt guilty? What Jesus is telling us is that it is okay to say; ‘Yes’ if you really mean it and to likewise say; ‘No’ too and not to over use either. Sometimes we need to say no, to stop ourselves being over whelmed and others times we need to say; ‘Yes’ to draw ourselves out of a comfortable rut. The lesson to learn is when to say yes and no appropriately.

Many years ago, when I was training to be a teacher, we were told by our Educational Psychology lecturer that if we wished to give effective feedback to children, we should never follow up a positive comment by using the word “but” because if we did, then the pupil would forget the positive comment and focus entirely on what came after the word “but”.

I remembered that piece of advice when I read the first verse of today’s Gospel. Jesus tells his disciples:

"You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

Jesus starts with a wonderful affirmation of his disciples, an affirmation which has become a proverb used by many people who are unaware that they are quoting from Matthew’s Gospel.

“You are the salt of the earth”

It’s not a commandment, it’s a commendation – he doesn’t say “You’ve got to be the salt of the earth”, he says “You are the salt of the earth”. And it’s very emphatic.

So take the compliment – You, the disciples of Jesus in the church family of the Good Shepherd, are the salt of the earth.

Salt meant several different things to Matthew’s first readers, things that wouldn’t immediately occur to us. It was used in sacrifices. It was used as an antibiotic, which is why we still talk about “rubbing salt in a wound”. It was used to stop fish and meat going bad. The Roman writer Pliny pointed out that the income paid to Roman soldiers was called a salarium (literally a “salting”) because in the past they had been partly paid in bags of salt. So our word “salary” has a salty connection, and anyone who isn’t really earning their salary is said to be “not worth their salt”. And salt had another important significance for Jewish people in the time of Jesus, and we’ll come back to that a little later.

So Jesus starts with a huge compliment

“You are the salt of the earth”

And then, ignoring the advice of my Educational Psychology lecturer, uses the word “but”.

"You are the salt of the earth; but if salt has lost its taste, how can its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything, but is thrown out and trampled under foot.”

That raises the question “how can salt lose its saltiness?” A few commentators have suggested that Jesus was deliberately making an absurd comment, reassuring the disciples that they would always be the salt of the earth. It is much more likely that what Jesus had in mind was the fact that corrupt traders in salt used to mix that commodity with other substances to increase their profits. Taken to an extreme, that would lead to a mixture which had so little salt in it that it would not taste salty. So there’s something in this teaching about the Christian calling to be radically for the world but not to be so of the world that we cease to be distinctively Christian.

That’s a difficult calling, for it is a call to serve a society which is increasingly ignorant of the good news of Jesus Christ. In some ways we find ourselves in the same position as the first generation of Christians. The recipients of Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, from which today’s Epistle is taken, were also a minority. Paul tells them:

“Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit that is from God, so that we may understand the gifts bestowed on us by God.”

To put that more simply, the Corinthian Christians’ saltiness comes from God not from the prevailing values of the city in which they live.

It’s significantly different for us, in that we live in a post-Christian society and there is much in the values of that society which is a legacy from many centuries of Christian belief and practice. The struggle for a more just society, an inclusive society, a society in which the weak and the vulnerable are protected rather than exploited, a society which respects the environment and tackles the threats to it - these are issues and values which we share with many of our non-Christian contemporaries.

It’s also important that we don’t lose sight of the fact that we come at those issues from a distinct direction. We believe that all human beings are made in the image and likeness of God. Our concern for the environment is rooted in an awareness that the universe is God’s creation, God’s gifting to us of the possibility of life in all its diversity. This distinctiveness is our saltiness, the gift we have to give to a society which badly needs it.

That need arises in part from the fact that the secular notion of human rights has serious drawbacks. The current and heated arguments regarding the Gender Recognition legislation passed by Holyrood have reminded us that the secular notion of human rights can easily lead to conflict and abusive language if the assertion of the rights of one group is seen to impinge on the rights of another. The Christian doctrine of humanity, starting as it does from the belief that all are made in the image and likeness of God, offers a way through such conflicts and stalemates, for it calls people to recognise the divine in one another and to a loving listening to the concerns of others, to a focus on that which is shared rather than on that which divides.

Which brings me to the other important significance that salt had for Jesus and his Jewish contemporaries. They spoke of eating a meal together with other people as “sharing salt” and they also used that as a metaphor for the idea of making a binding commitment to others.

We gather regularly both to receive and to share salt in our celebration of the Eucharist. It is an important way in which our saltiness is developed and it is the way in which, to quote from one of our post-Communion prayers,

“…we are made one in him and drawn into that new creation which is your will for all mankind.”

We are the salt of the earth – no buts - and our calling is to share that saltiness.