Sermon preached at Evensong on the Third Sunday after Trinity 2024

During July, the second readings at Evensong on a Sunday have been taken from St Paul’s letter to the early Christian community in Rome. This is not a church which Paul founded, nor is it one for which he has a particular individual responsibility. The occasion of the letter to the Romans is almost certainly Paul’s forthcoming visit to Rome, and was probably written from Corinth – the letter is a kind of calling card, an exposition of areas of his theology which presumably are of particular interest to the earliest Roman church. At the heart of the letter is a lengthy discourse which weaves around various aspects of the role and identity of the Jewish people in the light of the revelation of Jesus Christ. Paul, who in his own words, ‘excelled’ in his Jewish practice and keeping of the Law before his conversion to Christ, wrestles with the role of and function of that Law in the decades immediately after Christ’s resurrection. What can be demanded of non-Jewish converts to Christ? How should Jewish converts to Christ in that first century deal with their own religious and cultural identity? After all, the Jewish law, with its commandments and practices was (and is, for Jews today) a symbol of God’s unending covenant faithfulness. We know that there was a substantial Jewish community in Rome towards the middle/middle end of the first century AD, and it may well be that members of those synagogue communities were also converting to Christ. How should the churches navigate these questions?

This afternoon’s second reading focuses around two key themes for St Paul – providence and inclusion. The first, providence, is one we tend to shy away from in the contemporary Church, and not always for bad reasons. More of that in a minute. The second theme, inclusion, we are perhaps slightly better at. We congratulate ourselves on our inclusivity whilst nervously coughing that we still have some work to do. The work of the churches against the evil of apartheid in South Africa was one famous example of a Christian voice in political processes where the equality and dignity of all people was proclaimed as a non-negotiable fact. But still, across the world, other indicators are not so great. Misogyny and homophobia still stalk our cultures in subtle, as well as obvious ways, and the Church’s collusion in both can be deadly.

The inclusivity of which Paul writes is one so radical that we sometimes fail to notice the earthquake. That Jews and Gentiles should share the same promises, chosen by God, in Christ, in a way which breaks down any dividing wall, religious or cultural: that is dynamite in the ancient world. Jews and pagans together, made one solely through faith in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. It undercuts any other differences, relativizes any other boundaries, overwhelms any other distinctions. Paul is a massive radical on this front: this is not a begrudging inclusivity, but a sense that God’s purposes are only worked out through such action. In today’s reading he loosely quotes verses from the Prophet Hosea to illustrate his theme, ‘those who were not my people, I will call my people, and her who was not beloved, I will call beloved’ says the Lord. This is a double shock: Paul is applying scripture which was originally written to address the temporary lapse of Israel – the Jewish people – to non-Jews. The dignity of the Gentiles in Christ is prophesied by a promise made to Jews. Paul’s use of scripture here goes well beyond what we call ‘proof-texting’; referring to a bit of the Bible to support your point. His task is a much more radical one than this, allowing for the promises of the prophets to be live in the world post-Christ, in a new and extraordinary way.

The other theme related to this is that of providence. Christians today tend to shy away from talking about providence, at least in public, for fear that we might be thought a little bit too weird! Ironically, of course, contemporary non-religious spirituality is full of talk about karma, and things that were ‘meant to be.’ What Paul is discussing is not quite the same as that. He recognises a kind of momentum of God’s faithfulness in history, even in some of the hardest times. The person of Pharoah, who gets a cameo mention today, cast a long shadow over the story of the Jewish people. The great Exodus through the Red Sea was to escape from forced servitude in Egypt and to seek liberation. This is the defining event of Jewish identity. Pharoah means slavery – a dark chapter in the history of the children of Israel, at the end of which Moses and Aaron lead them through the waters of the sea into the desert. But in Romans, Paul quotes from the Greek version of Exodus in which the voice of the Lord tells Pharoah that he, too, is actually part of the plan, ‘I have raised you up for the very purpose of showing my power in you…’ Paul is able to read back into one of the most formative moments of salvation history and point towards that same dynamic operating in his own day. Pharoah – the bad guy of the Hebrew Bible! – is serving God’s ends, even if he doesn’t know it. The point: the Lord has mercy on whomsoever he chooses, and the promises of God are deep and textured.

Paul is able to be so confident about all this because he believes that due to Jesus’s resurrection we have entered a completely new epoch. The gathering in of the Gentiles, the sharing of non-Jews in the promises made to Abraham and Moses, is a sign of the beginning of the end of the world. God’s purposes are being fulfilled, and creation is beginning to be wrapped up, not least through the preaching of people like Paul. Paul knows that he is a witness to the Mighty Acts of God, which reach back in one line to the Exodus from Pharoah in Egypt, through the wilderness and the prophets. What is the common thread? The faithfulness of God. That is his big theme which emerges again and again. And it has repercussions in how we narrate stories about our past and about our present, and about who is included in the astonishing new relationships made possible by Jesus.

I said earlier that the two big ideas in today’s second reading were providence and inclusion. In the light of Paul’s proclamation of the mystery of Christ, I actually wonder whether they are strong enough words, able to the heavy-lifting. We might instead think of covenant and belonging. Belonging is a better word than inclusion, which in some ways indicates that some are still excluded, and that gatekeepers still monitor who might be allowed to join in. Belonging allows for mutuality and homeliness. It is to Christ we belong, and to one another in responsibility and love, in Christ’s Body, the Church. Covenant is, in Paul’s context, a richer word even than providence. A covenant so strong, that attempts to destroy it may reveal its beauty. A covenant so strong that damaged and broken history might even tell the tale of God’s love. A covenant so strong that the faithfulness of God nailed to a cross reveals a new and indestructible life.

So, today, some two millennia on, how is it all going? Do we reflect on our history, as churches, nations, communities, as revealing the Covenant? This is the gift which liberates us from so many Pharoahs, quite a few of our own making, testifying to God’s unbreakable faithfulness. And what about belonging? Do we really celebrate the earthquake in inclusion which resonates all the way from the Cross and Empty Tomb through the New Testament right down to our own day? Or would we rather still live half-alive, with an eye cast over our shoulder in case it’s all a big mistake? The image scripture uses for that kind of life is death. Christ is risen, and the contours of that truth have changed everything.