True Freedom
A sermon preached by the Revd Canon Dr Alison Joyce
on the Second Sunday of Lent, 28th February 2010
Of all the famous philosophers of the Classical world, probably the wackiest, and certainly the most controversial, was Diogenes the Cynic. He was a man who spurned all aspects of civilised life, and all material possessions, and chose instead to live the life of a beggar, dwelling in a barrel in the marketplaces of Athens and Corinth. And interestingly, one of the things Diogenes is most famous for is for being the only man on record who ever had the nerve to insult Alexander the Great to his face.
The story, which is rather a good one, goes as follows: Alexander the Great, passing through the city where Diogenes was living at the time, spotted the philosopher basking in the sun next to his famous barrel, and went over and spoke to him.
"I am the great king Alexander," he said
"And I," replied the philosopher, "am the dog Diogenes."
"Are you not afraid of me?" said Alexander.
"Are you good or bad?" asked Diogenes.
"Good," rejoined Alexander.
"Who need be afraid of one that is good?" answered Diogenes.
Alexander was so impressed by the philosopher’s wisdom that he said to him: “I can see, Diogenes, that you are a man in want of many things. Ask me for whatever you wish, and it shall be yours.”
“There is one thing you could do for me”, said the philosopher.
“Anything you ask”, said the great Emperor.
To which Diogenes famously replied – “Move out of the way, you are blocking my sunlight.”
This story always reminds me of the opening scene of the film Monty Python and the Holy Grail, in which King Arthur and his retinue enter a medieval village, and encounter a peasant seated on a dung heap, who clearly has absolutely no idea of the identity of the exalted visitor, and even less interest in finding out who he is. “But I am Arthur, your king”, explains the monarch. Unimpressed, the peasant responds: “Well, I didn’t vote for you”.
In a culture such as our own, which is so besotted with celebrity, it is wonderfully refreshing to hear tell of people whose eyes do not automatically glaze over when they encounter the famous, the wealthy or the powerful. The actor Hugh Grant tells a story about a conversation that his mother had with an old friend of hers who was visiting, who asked what her two sons were up to. “They are actually doing rather well”, replied Mrs Grant. “One of them is a Hollywood Film Star, and the other one works in a bank.” “How very interesting,” her friend responded. “Which bank?”
One of the most striking things about Jesus as we see him portrayed in the Gospels, is that, despite having the lowly status of a humble Galilean carpenter’s son, he is nevertheless ‘in thrall’ to nobody. There is no human being on earth, however wealthy or powerful; there is no earthly leader, either religious or secular, who exercises any kind of power over him whatsoever. Because his allegiance is ultimately to God, and to God alone.
And yet, interestingly, that did not turn him into either the kind of proto-anarchist you see in Diogenes the Cynic, or the proto-communist that you see in the Monty Python peasant. Because it would seem that Jesus had no objection as such to the structures and hierarchies and conventions of organised society in themselves: after all, it was he who, on the subject of taxation, famously declared: “Render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar”; in the same way, St Paul in his letters urged slaves to continue to obey their masters, whilst enjoying the true freedom that was theirs in Christ. Because human society needs its structures and its hierarchies and its leaders, simply in order to function. Take those things away, and human beings will simply re-create them again, albeit in a slightly different form. Indeed, Jesus himself appointed, empowered, and gave supreme authority to, his chosen disciples. He was no enemy of heirarchies.
And yet, he did critique them, very, very rigorously. Because what Jesus was actually opposed to was not so much the structures of society and those appointed to positions of authority – but rather, how those structures were used; how that authority was exercised. In reality, what function is truly being served by this institution? Whose interests is that leader actually representing? Those are always the most important questions. Because it is there that the most significant problems within our society, and within the people who run it, can be located.
In the same way, the repeated warnings that Jesus gives to do with the dangers of wealth, are actually to do with the fact that money – especially big money – tends to get in the way of our relationship with God; indeed, money can all too easily come to replace God as the focus of our devotion and dedication if we don’t watch it. It is not so much money in and of itself, as the effect that it has on us that is the problem. Hence his famous saying that one cannot serve both God and Mammon.
What mattered to Jesus was that those who were entrusted with power exercised it appropriately. The source of his constant conflict with the Pharisees was to do with the fact that they were firmly convinced that they were doing everything in their power to uphold the Jewish law to the letter, and yet Jesus is constantly pointed out that they have lost sight of what that Jewish law is really all about: in reality what they are doing is upholding the externals of religion, in a way that ultimately serves neither God, nor the human beings that are his creation – hence his constant critique of the rules they are trying to enforce both rigidly and blindly: ‘The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath’; ‘it is not what goes into a man that makes him unclean, but what comes out of his mouth.’ The Pharisees have lost sight of the true nature of the God whom they believe themselves to be serving. And that is why Jesus is for them such a threat. Because he constantly challenges them, and exposes their folly and their short-sightedness.
In St John’s Gospel, after Jesus has been arrested and hauled before the Roman Governor, Pontius Pilate says to Jesus, ‘Do you not know that I have power to release you and power to crucify you?’ And Jesus replies: ‘You would have no power over me unless it had been given you from above.’ Pilate has power, and it is in its own way, a God-given power. And yet, ironically, throughout the whole of their encounter, it is not Pilate but Jesus who comes across as the wiser, the more dignified, and in an extraordinarily strange way, the more powerful of the two, despite the fact that he stands there a prisoner, facing the prospect of torture and a particularly barbaric form of death. Jesus is completely unfazed by Pilate, despite the fact that he, the Governor of Judaea, stands there with the full authority of the Roman Empire behind him, and holds the power of life and death over him. And, ironically, it is that that unnerves Pilate more than anything else.
It is helpful to bear some of these themes in mind when we try to get to grips with this morning’s gospel reading, which is not the easiest of texts to understand. The basic situation is this: the Pharisees, keen to get Jesus out of their way, try to scare him off, urging him to leave Galilee because, they claim, Herod is seeking his death. Jesus is completely unmoved by their attempts to frighten him; so much so that he is actually abusive about Herod, referring to him as ‘that fox’ – which, in this context, is to dismiss him as despicable, mean and paltry. And what is the message that the Pharisees are to take to Herod? That Jesus will remain where he is, and continue his work of casting out demons and healing the sick for as long as he needs to; he will then depart for Jerusalem, but not out of fear of Herod – but rather because it is there that his own destiny lies; a destiny that, paradoxically, will involve his own death anyway – so, although the Pharisees don’t realise it, there is not actually a lot of point in their trying to frighten Jesus with death threats.
And yet, more strikingly still, as Jesus looks towards Jerusalem, and looks ahead to what awaits him in the Holy City - his rejection and eventual death - his response is not fear, nor resignation, nor even judgment. Strangely enough his words are those of the most tender compassion:
Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it. How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings.
How remarkable; how utterly remarkable. Jesus is not only unfazed and unbowed by the power and the authority of those around him; he is not only unafraid to face the greatest terror of all human life – death; but he can actually look beyond all of that, and feel compassion for those who would actively do him harm. In Jesus, we see the life of a man who is truly free. And the reason why he is truly free, is because the focus of his life is clearly and unswervingly fixed upon God and upon God alone. And all else flows from that.
The other day I found myself having cause to reflect upon how I myself have changed during the twenty three years that I have been in ministry. I am, of course, recognisably the same person, in most respects, that I was at the age of 28, when I was first ordained, albeit somewhat older, and greyer, but hopefully rather wiser.
There are some things that have changed, however. I am by nature and inclination, a very law-abiding bunny – and yet these days I find that I am far less intimidated by rules and regulations and the need to obey them to the letter than I used to be. Douglas Bader, the RAF pilot, who lost both his legs in a flying accident in 1931, was informed that he would not be allowed to fly again, because the rules made no provision for legless (in the literal sense) pilots. Disdainfully he replied: ‘Rules are for the obedience of fools, and the guidance of wise men.’ And he went on to become one of the most famous and successful fighter pilots of the Second World War, shooting down 22.5 enemy aircraft. (The half was a hit that he agreed to split with a friend.) And I now know exactly what he meant by those words about rules – which is of course precisely what Jesus exemplified in his life as well.
I am also far less intimidated by those who hold high office, than I once was (as certain Bishops of the Church of England now know somewhat to their cost!). I also think that I am much less judgmental and much more accepting of others, whoever and whatever they happen to be, than I once was – a lot of my preconceptions and prejudices have been worn away through experience. And lastly, these days, whenever I observe rude, or aggressive or unreasonable behaviour, whether directed at me or at other people, my first thought now is no longer “how rude and aggressive and unreasonable that person is” – but rather it tends to be, I wonder why they are hurting?
It is often said that the Christian Gospel is a Gospel of Liberation; and when we look at the life and ministry of Jesus we can see the embodiment of a man who really was truly free. But as for the rest of us – sometimes it can take a whole lifetime for us to begin to experience that freedom for ourselves. The point is, though, that it is never too late to start.
Amen.