May I begin by thanking you for all your loving and supportive comments and messages to me over the past few weeks and months. Just over a week ago, I was ordained priest in Norwich Cathedral and the next day, Natalie Rees (we have the same last name but are not related!) was ordained deacon. She and I were together for the swearing of oaths to the Queen (in absentia!) and the Bishop and then for a wonderful two-day silent retreat in the Bishop’s garden. The garden is on the site of an abbey, and of a much earlier garden laid out right at the beginning of the 12th century. It lies in the shadow of the Cathedral, which was built 900 years ago. The cathedral’s present spire is the second one to have been built, as the first one was struck by lightning and tumbled into the garden where bits of it are still being unearthed.
Surrounded by all this history, Natalie and I went through the final preparations for our ordinations, along with a number of other colleagues, about 25 of us in all. With ordination, our roles may have changed, but our basic standing as disciples of Christ remains the same: we are called, as are all those who follow Christ, to preach the Good News, to minister to those who are sick, poor, lost or suffering and to extend the love of God to all we meet.
Today, we heard in Luke’s Gospel, the story of Jesus sending out 72 men in pairs, to go ahead of him into the villages and towns where he was to follow. He instructed them to bless each house they entered, eat what was offered to them and stay where they were welcome. If they were not made welcome, Jesus told them to wipe off the dust from their feet and to move on to another village where they would find people who would be open to hearing what they had to say about him.
At the beginning of this passage, Jesus tells his friends that there is a large ‘harvest’, but few workers to gather it in. That verse always used to make me feel guilty: was I doing enough to gather in the ‘harvest’ of people who needed to hear about Jesus? Now I see it somewhat differently. Instead of feeling guilt for what I may not achieve, I now see my task – the task and calling of all Christians – as going about our lives with a loving attitude, striking up conversations with the people we bump into and telling them God loves them. I like what St Francis is purported to have said to the young monks he was training, ‘Go and preach the Gospel - use words if you must.’
People can tell if someone is truly loving and kind - like a stick of Brighton rock – all the way through - or whether their smiles and fine-sounding words are only skin deep. What draws people is the love of Christ. We don’t have to, indeed we can’t, put on a holy veneer that will beguile anyone into the Kingdom of God. If we love Jesus, and He is our focus, His love will shine out of us and people will want to know what makes us the way we are. The ‘harvest’ is ready: people are hungry for God even if they don’t know it. The question is, are we ready to trust that the light of Christ can shine out of us and that by being open about what gives us hope and life, we will be able to extend that same hope and life to others?
The Revd Christina Rees