In Mark’s Gospel, there is a powerful sense that mountains need to be climbed by Jesus, with the journey leading ever closer to Jerusalem, that hill and that cross. But Mark never suggests that suffering and death are God’s will for Jesus . . . or for his disciples . . . or for you . . . or for me. I do not believe that God brings suffering upon people.
I believe that we need to get our heads round the fact that Jesus did not desire execution. We need only to revisit the words he prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane. Nor did he see sacrifice as a virtue either. What he did do was his Father’s will – and he accepted, apparently with fear and trembling, his death as the inevitable consequence of living an all-encompassing life of love . . . a love that challenged oppressive power structures and all those things that get in the way of the relationship between people and God. I am more and more convinced that suffering is a consequence of discipleship . . . I would push this even further to say that suffering is a consequence of sacrifice. I know, as many others know, that responding to the tap on the shoulder brings its own demands. Equally, though, I am also certain that God never asks us to do anything he believes we cannot do.
During a workshop I was attending a few years ago in St Andrews for the DMin (that, as you know, I didn’t quite complete!), I was suddenly overwhelmed by the immensity of the task into which I was entering. Gary phoned on the first evening to hear his wife stating that she couldn’t do it . . . it was too much . . . she was going to give up there and then. She was coming home. His response? ‘Eleanor. How do you eat an elephant?’ My response? ‘I don’t do elephants! How do you eat an elephant?’ To which he replied: ‘In little chunks!’
So, for all of us here this morning, I ask:
those who have climbed mountains on your own and with me;
those who have more to climb;
those who feel that they’re facing the insurmountable task of eating an elephant:
What are the possible consequences of your call to serve?
What do you most fear?
And, amid all your fears and questions, what I would suggest is this: remember that Mark’s Jesus did not call people to walk the path of discipleship alone, but rather to do so in loving community. One of the greatest joys for me has been to be part of the loving and hospitable community that is Ellon Parish Church, for
together, we’ve ironed out lots of creases!
we’ve discovered so many hidden treasures as we’ve raked about in the laundry basket of life!
we’ve had gutting sessions and made numerous visits to the recycling bins!
we have a community that strives to live out its calling in the shadow of the cross.
And so it has to be that my prayer for this community that I love dearly is this: build upon all of this with your new minister; work together; climb together; enjoy the views from the top; celebrate; tackle each task a wee bit at a time, and know that to follow Jesus Christ means not only to walk in his path up the mountains and down in the valleys, but also to be in a loving, non-judgemental and intimate relationship with him . . . and with the God who taps people like you and like me on the shoulder in the most interesting and surprising of ways! Live like people who belong to the light, and try to learn what pleases the Lord. For it is to him that we give all glory and praise. AMEN.
By the end of the address, I had completed ironing the laundry in the first basket. After I said ‘Amen, and may God bless to us this preaching of his Holy Word’, I reached into the second basket, took out the white linen cloth which, incidentally, had a hole in it, placed it on the ironing board and began to iron it carefully. It covered the ironing board nicely. I then took out the Communion plate with the bread and placed it carefully on the ironing board. I took out the Communion cup filled with wine and placed it carefully on the ironing board too. All this was done in complete silence.
The table was set.
The Invitation was extended.
The bread and wine were set apart.
An ordinary ironing board was set apart.
We celebrated the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper around an extraordinary ironing board.
Communion Circle Prayer
REV. RACHEL DOBIE
The prayer, a circle prayer, expresses something of the nature of God. The sharing with my probationer in the sacrament of Holy Communion mirrored the sense of companionship that had been the hallmark of my probationer’s time with me and the congregation.
I offer this suggestion for Holy Communion, which was used at the united farewell service for Frances Henderson, who had spent her probationary period in the four parishes of which I am minister.
It was a service for all ages, and there were many children present. I had not expected more than fifty to attend, since it was New Year’s Day; but we actually had about eighty, and it was too late to change any plans we had made.
We wanted the worship to be dignified but relaxed, and so there were no white cloths except for veiling the elements; no great entry, and the elders were part of the body of the congregation, not seated round the table. A short order of Holy Communion from Worship Now was used.
Frances shared in the liturgy. The congregation was invited to leave the pews and stand in a group round the Communion table (which is on a slightly raised chancel area) between the Institution and the Prayer of Thanksgiving. This they did, old and young together, though not in the tidy rows as on a Galilee hillside.
When it came to the distribution, we took the now broken home-made loaf and passed the pieces round, collecting what was left.
Some of our congregations use a common cup and some glasses. When it came to the distribution of the wine, we each, Frances and I, lifted one cup and napkin and one tray of glasses, having explained before we started that they could receive from either of us.
There was something deeply moving to see hands reaching out for our very ancient cups made for the valley in which some of the communicants now lived and worked. After the prayer and the Peace, they returned to the pews.
When I had planned it, it did seem slightly risky. We were both so glad we had done it. We celebrated in the same way the following New Year.
Prayer of Approach and Confession
Lord, you are to us a circle;
in you there is no beginning, no end.
When you enfold us, you hold us, and so we praise you,
there is no place where you are not;
when the circle faces outwards
no one is hidden from your sight, no one excluded from your presence,
and so we praise you.
Father, you are time itself,
and yet you are without time.
There was no time when you were not,
there can be no time when you will not be.
And for that sense of infinity, we praise you.
Yet there are times when we try to hide from you;
hide the fact that our lives are not centred on you;
that we slip into the shadows cast by our own
and the world’s selfishness and greed.
Forgive us, for we recognise our own imperfections.
Draw us out of the darkness,
Change us, cleanse us, restore us, we pray.