Sermon, Seventh Sunday after Trinity: "Seek the Things That are Above"

“Take care!” said Jesus. “Be on your guard against all kinds of greed, for one’s life does not consist in the abundance of one’s possessions”. It really is a sad old story, the meaningless, undirected pursuit of wealth by a farmer who built more and more barns from which no-one would benefit. He stored up grain yet forfeited his soul. He truly was a ‘rich fool’. What a contrast to the poor widow commended by Jesus for her offering at the temple, slender in material terms but generous in spirit. Our Gospel story reminds me of a tombstone that I noted in a village churchyard: 

‘All you that doth behold this stone, just think how quickly I was gone. I went to bed very well at night but was found dead by morning light. So death do not always warning give. Pray, be careful how you live.’ 

Jesus concluded: “So it is with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich towards God”.

Take care, says the tombstone. Take care, says Jesus. What does it mean to take care: not to store up treasure for ourselves but to be rich towards God? St Paul phrases the issue slightly differently: “…seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth”.

This morning’s readings offer a valuable opportunity to consider what we are really about. What is your heart’s desire? On what do you set your ambition, your energy? I had the privilege of being a chaplain to military cadets for some years and over the course of their training we would tackle the important question of aligning their personal values, passions and objectives with the potentially sacrificial demands of Service life. It was important for their wellbeing and for the effectiveness of the Service that they could reconcile the two. The New York Times commentator, David Brooks, was similarly intrigued by people who stood apart from the ‘Big Me culture’ - individuals who radiated an inner light and who made a significant difference in the lives of others. He wanted to know what made them so deeply good and how he could be more like them. His conclusion was that such people were made, not born and that they had usually undergone either what he termed ‘a humility shift’, ‘a conscience leap’, or had been energised by unexpected and profound love.

St Paul, in his letter to the C1 Christians of Colosse, reveals the ultimate source of this transformation. In the previous chapter he has already highlighted that ‘All things were created by him and for him’, emphasising the supremacy of Jesus. He went on to say that when we were dead in our sins Jesus made us alive through his sacrificial love. These extraordinary claims were important for this fledgling church in Col as they are for us today. Colosse was an important town on the Aegean coast of Turkey, part of the great East-West trade route. Its citizens were subject not just to a variety of economic trade but also to a competing plethora of ideas and philosophies. In this context Paul declared that Jesus was the living embodiment of the Father, that he died on the cross on our behalf, that he disarmed the powers and authorities of this world and then triumphed over them by rising from the dead. He will judge both the living and the dead. This was revolutionary teaching, depicting an authority that is over everyone and everything yet one that is expressed in servanthood. In this sense Jesus is the ultimate model for the transformative life that Brooks had observed.

Yet this is challenging, both personally and politically, for we live within the tensions of a fallen yet redeemed creation, in society that significantly challenges divine authority in relation to personal choice and changing whims of fashion. You will know this in your own lives and communities, whether local to Oxford or from further afield. There may be differing views on the call by Danny Kruger MP for a return to Christian politics, and there is not time today to tackle that important subject. We know, however, that our society offers many competing claims on our affections, externally for instance through the influencing power of modern technology - but also deep within: we might want to put to death whatever is earthly such as impurity and greed, malice, slander and so forth, yet we are pulled in different directions. On the one hand we ask, ‘what’s in it for me?’ and on the other, we know how good it is to serve. The Cross of Christ is the inspiration and the means to reconcile this tension. That’s how we can set our hearts and minds on things above, that’s how we can be rich towards God. Paul gives us the clue by prefacing his command: ‘If you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts…’.

In this sacred space, where prayers have been offered for at least 1300 years, we have the opportunity to consider this gift and our response. From those early beginnings in Asia Minor and the wider Roman world, the church has gained inspiration from the humility, integrity and sacrificial love of the one who is sat at God the Father’s right hand. The Christian faith is indeed revolutionary, it is purposeful not meaningless, it is highly practical yet demanding, fully invitational yet provoking opposition. The scriptures teach us, however, that it is the hope of the world – and the story of Oxford is remarkably full of examples of those who have responded with their lives. Only this week Pope Leo has paved the way for St John Henry Newman to be called a Doctor of the Church, a rare honour to reflect an exceptional theological contribution to the life of the church – Newman who was ordained in this cathedral 200 years ago and served as a curate/vicar in this city. His motto as a later Cardinal was ‘Cor ad Cor loquitor’ – ‘Heart speaks to Heart’ – reflecting his belief and experience that Jesus shares his heart with us as we pray, as we serve (as he did in the then slums of St Clement’s) and, especially, in the self-giving presence of Jesus in the Eucharist. So as we reflect on the words of Jesus and the call of St Paul, as we come to the Eucharist this morning, I encourage you: know the heart of God and offer yours in return.