Sermon: Panic or generosity?

Isaiah 28:9-22; 2 Corinthians 8:1-9

I've been enjoying reading "Trains and Buttered Toast" the collection of John Betjemen's radio talks from the days when there was a Home Service: and, yes, I do remember when it became Radio 4. In July1940 he gave a talk, "Some thoughts in wartime" and, had the censor not taken inexplicable dislike to the opening paragraph and substituted something far blander, Betjemen intended to begin as follows:

"I must confess that I have never been more awake than I have been in the last few months. I am not referring to any disturbances from air raids. I mean that my wits have been sharpened. I notice a lot more about scenery, things and people. In fact, I regard this as one of the blessings of war, the awakening of my wits. I have become grateful."

You might well ask what that has got to do with the two readings we heard earlier. I hope it will become clear, but first I want to remind you of the rather obscure passage from Isaiah. It emerges from a time of impending war - little Judah was under threat from the superpower of the day, Assyria, and Isaiah was having a hard time getting the people of Judah to heed the words of the Lord which he was speaking to them. He accuses the leaders of being scoffers, and warns them that their confidence is misplaced if they think the covenants they have entered into mean they will survive the scourge about to occur.

In the past God had promised rest to the weary people, but they ignored this so now, in their panic at the threat facing them, they have made what Isaiah calls a covenant with death. It was probably the alliance with the Egyptians which King Hezekiah entered into when the Assyrian king, Sargon, died in 705BC, and the smaller nations which had been oppressed by him hoped to take advantage of Assyria's briefly weakened situation. Isaiah foresaw that Egypt's help would prove to be worthless to Judah and opposed the alliance on the grounds that it involved the Egyptian's gods and thus was a sign of lack of faith in their own God. The historical outcome of this situation was that the Assyrians, who had already conquered the land of Israel to the north of Jerusalem, soon conquered Egypt, and the king of Judah, caught geographically in the middle, had to pay heavy tribute to Assyria. About 80 years later, Assyria overstretched itself and could not control the local rebellions breaking out all over the place and in the 620s Babylon broke the Assyrian stranglehold on the nations and in due course also conquered Judah.

That was all to be in the future. In the present, Isaiah reminds the scoffers around him of two occasions in their past when God has stirred up storms in order to save them: these events involving the weather would be lodged in their memories much like the fog which hampered the Nazis during the Battle of Britain or the calm seas and fog to conceal the British rescue boats at Dunkirk are lodged in ours. More locally, we have the story of the Durham mist, allegedly raised by Cuthbert to confuse Nazi bombers. But having reminded them of how God had saved them in this way in the past, Isaiah turns the tables on them in their time of need and says in effect "Unless you stop scoffing, instead of saving you again in this way, next time he's going to destroy rather than save you." God is going to turn against them for their scoffing.

In contrast we have the situation with the New Testament reading from a few centuries later. There was no war this time, just the Roman rule which brought with it both oppression and security. In some places life was hard for the new Christians, not because of overall persecution but from local opposition to the gospel they proclaimed. And there was also famine and that is the particular context of the extract we heard from the letter to the Corinthians. We know from Acts that Paul organised a collection for famine victims in Jerusalem and here is encouraging his readers to respond with generosity to the relief efforts. The example he quotes to the Corinthians, a young and at times rather wayward church, is that of the Macedonian church which, when they heard of others in need, gave generously, with joy. He says that first they gave their lives to God and then, as a consequence, gave beyond their financial means to others in need. This was despite the fact that the Macedonians were themselves undergoing what Paul describes as a severe ordeal of great affliction. A few weeks ago David Cameron faced criticism for continuing with a planned visit to Rwanda during the floods in his constituency in Witney. Without entering into party politics, I want to stick my neck out and say that - whether he realised it or not, and I suspect he didn't - he was following the example of the Macedonians who took account of their own need but saw a greater need elsewhere and responded to it. Apart from the ongoing need in Rwanda, in our proper concern for the impact of the floods in this country we must not forget that there are currently two million people dealing with devastation from much worse floods in the Indian sub continent and they do not have the resources available to us in England. Our own needs must not blind us to the needs of others.

Both our readings refer to situations where people are under immense pressure, perhaps life-threatening pressure. This affects us in different ways and we respond differently. I have never known the fear of being caught up in a situation of war or terrorism, or of life-threatening famine, so I am not going to speculate on how I would react. I only know how I've responded in other, lesser, situations. It is when we are faced with devastating news, with situations that are beyond our control, with injustice, that we discover the meanings of our fundamental commitments: do we panic and seek alliances with others that compromise our integrity, or do we resort to our baptismal commitment to God and thus find ourselves able to act in a generous way that expresses of our trust in God?

Which brings me back to John Betjemen, speaking in July 1940 when the future of this nation was every bit as precarious as that of Judah in the eighth century BC. He was not making a political speech, he was observing how the war had affected him and his way of living. What he wanted to say in his broadcast was that because of the war he had become more awake, his wits had been sharpened, he noticed more about the scenery, things and people, and it was a blessing of the war that this had happened to him and he had become grateful. The censor changed that to a much weaker statement that he'd discovered some pleasant things as a result of the war, was grateful for small things, and was going to make some observations in the broadcast about things, scenery and people, thus missing the impact of the war on Betjemen himself: I wonder if the censor thought it was disloyal to say on the radio that the war had produced some benefits. Betjemen is not preaching a sermon so he doesn't mention God but speaks about his discovery that the war brings out the best in people, so that - in his words - dithery old fusspots cease to fuss, and pessimists become cheerful. And it affects his appreciation of his surroundings so that he - the former critic of suburbs - admits that he came to like them, and even recants his former stinging criticism of Swindon's octopus-like tentacles of jerry-built houses.

Those are Betjemen's specific examples of what happened to him, and we should take them for what they are - examples that make for entertaining broadcasting. But in their own way they illustrate what is at the heart of what Isaiah and Paul were driving at in their particular situations: what had the Assyrian threat done to the leaders of Judah? what had severe affliction done to the Macedonian Christians? In one case it had broken their trust in God, caused them to panic and to make unwise political alliances, in the other case it had caused them to renew their trust in God and to give generously to other people in need. What does trouble and affliction do to us? Why does life-threatening illness cause some people to turn against God and blame him for letting it happen, but others to display extraordinary trust in God and patience in the middle of difficult circumstances?                            

Obviously I don't know what particular troubles each of you faces this morning, but I put the question to you: how have you responded in the past to difficulties? That will give you an indication of how you will respond in even more demanding situations in the future. What spiritual resources are you building up now to help you then? It is not sheer chance, it is in part the product of how we have lived our lives, how we have been aware of God's presence and protection in the past, how we nurture our faith day by day. And it has very practical implications: it affected the pockets of the Macedonians. It should affect our pockets too. Next week's reading from Corinthians is going to take us further into the question of how we live generously so, in a sense, this is a two part sermon with this week laying the foundation by asking how we respond to situations that could cause us to fear for our survival.

To go back to John Betjemen: "I regard this as one of the blessings of the war, the awakening of my wits. I have become grateful." Last week in my sermon at the Eucharist I quoted Thomas more in a Man for All Seasons, "[God made] man ... to serve him wittily, in the tangle of his mind." There should be wit in our discipleship, it will help us through the times of trouble when our minds are in a tangle. And the awakening of our wits helps us to be grateful and trusting in God, even when the times are hard. How are we going to express that in a tangible way this week? In other words, how can we live with the gratitude that frees us to be generous as the Macedonians were? Paul gives the Corinthians a model: that of Christ who, though he was rich, became poor for our sake in order to make us rich by his poverty. And so we can respond in our last hymn, written by the Dean of Durham (Cyril Alington) who saw this Cathedral through the Second World War, like Isaiah preaching hope in the midst of fear and drawing on Isaiah's imagery of a foundation stone being laid by God in the midst of the turmoil,

Ye that know the Lord is gracious,

Ye for whom a Corner-stone

Stands, of God elect and precious

Laid that ye may build thereon.

See that on that sure foundation

Ye a living temple raise,

Towers that may tell forth salvation,

Walls that may re-echo praise.

Ye a royal generation

Tell the tidings of your birth,

Tidings of a new creation

To an old and weary earth.

When we are under pressure or facing danger, pray that we can proclaim the good news to an old and weary earth which needs to hear the message of hope.