Sunday morning was our Autumn service of communion.
The theme picked up from our texts was on tradition, and serving God wholeheartedly.
Has the reason for some of our ways of doing things been forgotten over time?
Are there bad, as well as good, traditions?
What helps or hinders us as we try to walk in faith as God's people?
We began by hearing a story....
READINGS: Ps 15; Mark 7:1-23
SERMON
Let’s pray: May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts be acceptable
in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen
She was a stranger in a strange land.
She had travelled far and wide,
met many people,
encountered many different ways of living in the world.
And here she was, another place,
near another group of people.
She settled by the free-flowing river,
made a home of sorts among the willow trees,
set out the few possessions she’d carried with her in her rucksack.
The days were warm, the fishing and hunting were good,
and the neighbouring villagers seemingly harmless.
It was good to rest in this green and pleasant place.
At the beginning of her first week, she was aware that she was being watched –
but not in an alarming way –
rather, it was in a gentle and curious manner:
a checking out of the new neighbour.
Occasionally, she would call a cheerful ‘hello’
holding her arms out wide in front of her
showing them they had nothing to fear,
a gesture of welcome,
of invitation.
The days passed.
Eyes watched.
Welcome continued to be shown.
By the end of the first week,
one of the more curious of the watchers decided that she was harmless.
When the ‘hello’ was sounded,
and the gesture of welcome made,
he emerged from behind a thick brown willow trunk and slowly made his way toward her,
arms open wide – to show no weapons,
giving a nod and a smile acknowledging her presence.
Inviting him to sit by the fire, she made tea,
handed him the cup, and they set to the business of learning about each other.
Mug in hand, he seemed suddenly uncomfortable, slightly unsure.
She, smiled at him, nodded reassuringly, then drank from her own mug first,
to encourage him – and show him the drink was safe.
Cautiously, slightly nervously, he sipped the tea and began to relax.
Soon they found a common language, and exchanged names:
she was Evadne and he, David.
Bidding her to come to the village for a meal and to meet the others,
David urged her to bring a jacket and hat solemnly saying something that sounded a little like:
‘yaahstincaze’.
Feeling the warmth of the sun on her arms, and looking at the clear blue sky,
Evadne was puzzled by David’s insistence on the hat and jacket –
nor did she understand the word he’d used.
A seasoned traveller, however, Evadne bowed to her new friend’s obvious local knowledge
about possible weather vagaries.
Picking up her coat and cap, she followed David to the village, just less than a mile up river.
Coming into a clearing, she saw a collection of small, stone, white-washed cottages
with neatly thatched roofs,
gathered in a circle around a pretty green bordered with a variety of wildflowers
that were putting on a stunning show.
Villagers emerged from doorways, watching as she and David
walked to the centre of the green to meet a tall woman,
dressed in a long, cornflower blue cotton skirt, and fawn shirt.
Looking at Evadne, the woman noted the jacket and cap slung over her arm, and nodded approvingly.
‘Ahhh, ‘yaahstincaze’.
Pointing to herself, she said
‘Myra’ then looked at Evadne with a warm smile.
‘Evadne’ came the response, with a smile in return.
Evadne found herself being led to the largest of the village houses.
The bright yellow door was open wide, and delicious cooking smells tempted her in.
Gathered in the living room was an assortment of villagers, who greeted her cheerfully.
Along with the heat of the day the room was also further warmed by the
sheer number of people, so that they were positively ‘glowing’ with perspiration.
Occasionally, David needed to translate, but for the most part,
general conversation flowed in a friendly way.
With the sound of a gong signalling dinner, the group headed...
not to the dining room, but for the coat rack by the door, each collecting their coat and cap,
before turning back and following the smell of the food down the corridor.
Evadne followed the crowd and entered a large room.
At the centre was an enormous dining table,
laden with bowls overflowing with roast tatties, broccoli, peas...
two swan-shaped gravy boats graced either end of the table,
and, mid-table, a huge haunch of beef sat ready to be carved.
A fine feast indeed.
Suddenly there was a brief whispering and then David quickly disappeared,
reappearing with Evadne’s coat and cap, and handing them to her with a nod.
The room was already boiling, and Evadne could not imagine why on earth
she would have need of these.
Bewildered, she took them from David with a puzzled
‘thank you.’
She noticed the diners all stood behind their chairs, each with their coats and caps,
waiting expectantly and looking at Myra.
Tapping her crystal glass lightly with a fork, Myra solemnly uttered the strange word once more:
‘yaahstincaze’.
On cue, the diners placed their caps on head, donned their coats, and were seated.
Following their lead, Evadne did likewise, hoping beyond hope that she wouldn’t
pass out with heat exhaustion...
she could already feel her face growing flushed as she wiped a small bead of sweat from her brow.
Heroically, she tucked into the hot meal.
Many years, many miles, many cultures later,
Evadne had cause to remember the villagers and their custom of donning cap and coat
for their meals.
Now settled, and writing a book, she decided to do a little research on the village.
Sitting in seat B7 of the library, surrounded by books,
Evadne at last caught mention of the village.
Originally a make-shift stock camp, people began to settle –
first in tents, which were gathered in a circle around a common working area.
Here they would make and share a fire,
where, in the open, they would cook and eat communally.
While the area enjoyed generally good weather, it was not unknown for storms
to blow up from out of nowhere,
and so the villagers were in the habit of eating with their caps and coats on
should the weather turn, and they be faced with the risk of pleurisy or pneumonia
so far from medical help.
They took to heart the potential danger and acted accordingly.
As the years passed, and old memories were lost in the mists of time,
the village saw many changes:
stone cottages replaced tents,
cooking was now done in their own homes,
and the common work area became the green.
There was one thing that didn’t change however:
regardless of the temperature, even though they no longer knew why they did it,
the villagers continued their practice of donning coat and cap,
and muttering
‘yaahstincaze’ before they ate.
There it was again, that strange word Evadne had heard so long ago,
now, no longer strange as she looked at it in print,
and said aloud not one word, but three, in her own accent:
‘just in case.’
---------------------------------------------
Remember the old Scout motto –
‘Be prepared’?
Well, it’s a good thing to be prepared –
in the case of the early villagers living in tents and sharing meals in common, out of doors,
it was a good thing to have at hand their cap and coat just in case the weather turned.
Being prepared meant – hopefully – avoiding illness.
Being prepared became something that they just ‘did’...
even many generations later.
Despite changes in the way they lived,
despite the utter discomfort
despite no longer needing to ‘be prepared’
in this particular way any more...
they still practised something that was now essentially unnecessary...
no longer an exercise of the heart,
but an ingrained habit now without meaning.
The Psalmist asks
‘Lord, who may dwell in your sanctuary, who may live on your holy hill?’
And then, they answer their own question –
describing someone who follows God with their heart,
and whose actions are done out of intention, rather than unthinking habit.
Reflection and action working together creating an integrity of purpose.
There are a good number of psalms that talk of ‘ascending’ to God’s holy hill,
that talk of making a pilgrimage to the temple in Jerusalem.
The direction is always up.
Now, I’m not sure how many of you go hill-walking,
but I am pretty sure that if you are inclined to go yomping up the hills,
that the last thing you want with you is...
well, a lot of unnecessary things to slow you down,
to make it harder than it needs to be.
You want to be well prepared, of course,
and, a part of that preparation is getting rid of that which holds you back.
And this is what Jesus is really talking about when he has yet another
encounter with the group called the Pharisees.
These guys aren’t bad people:
they’re trying to keep the Law that was handed down by Moses.
They’re trying to keep their tradition alive.
A tradition that marks them out as God’s people;
a tradition that gives them a sense of identity,
a sense of purpose,
a sense of purity,
a sense of comfort.
Tradition isn’t always a bad thing.
And yet, in this case, over the generations,
added extras have crept in to the tradition.
Instead of what had been intended to help people follow God more easily,
the tradition with all the added extras
had become a burden...
Again, the Pharisees are not necessarily bad people - perhaps it’s a matter of bad practice.
Doing the thing correctly became the focus:
what they were doing,
not
who they were doing the thing for.
And Jesus cuts through the centuries of tradition and addition
and turns the spotlight on heart and motivation:
it’s not the external stuff you do out of habit...
it’s the reason that you’re doing it that matters.
Also, just to say that Jesus isn’t against basic principles of hygiene when
he makes his comments about ritual washing...
he wants them to remember why they’re doing what they do –
it’s not for the sake of the thing,
it’s for God’s sake.
And, if the action is now a barrier to God,
rather than a help to follow in God’s ways...lose it.
Marry word and action so that what you do is an intentional part of how you follow God.
Last week we talked of putting on God’s armour.
Perhaps, in order to put on those things that help to follow God,
you need to take off those things that slow you down or stop you altogether.
It’s good to examine what we do and why we do it, and in doing so,
to rediscover some of the good things in the tradition and perhaps lose some of the less helpful...
doing this, while also discovering new ways to love and serve God –
like the words of that old hymn:
‘ponder anew, what the Almighty can do.’
It’s what Jesus did, in a meal with friends –
where gathered at a table, he took ordinary things –
bread and wine –
and transformed them into something new:
a meal based on old custom and tradition,
but renewed for a new generation of people
wanting to walk in God’s ways.
He stands at the head of the table,
arms open wide to show us we have nothing to fear,
arms open wide as a gesture of welcome,
of invitation.
We can leave behind our caps and coats and all the unnecessary things
we carry with us day to day.
All we need to bring is ourselves, our hearts.
It’s not a meal where we need to have stuff with us ‘just in case,’
it’s a meal offered with the call to lay our burdens down –
a meal of freedom,
a meal... of grace. Amen.
