Sunday, August 29, 2010

Sick but still preaching

Luke 14.1, 7-14

1On one occasion when Jesus was going to the house of a leader of the Pharisees to eat a meal on the sabbath, they were watching him closely.

7When he noticed how the guests chose the places of honour, he told them a parable. 8‘When you are invited by someone to a wedding banquet, do not sit down at the place of honour, in case someone more distinguished than you has been invited by your host; 9and the host who invited both of you may come and say to you, “Give this person your place,” and then in disgrace you would start to take the lowest place. 10But when you are invited, go and sit down at the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he may say to you, “Friend, move up higher”; then you will be honoured in the presence of all who sit at the table with you. 11For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’

12He said also to the one who had invited him, ‘When you give a luncheon or a dinner, do not invite your friends or your brothers or your relatives or rich neighbours, in case they may invite you in return, and you would be repaid. 13But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. 14And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.’

Sermon by Bishop of Whitby (heart attack on holiday in Italy)

DID THE monk in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, actually

come from Rochester,

just under 30 miles from London and about the same

distance from Canterbury itself?



This is not an original suggestion.
Anyone who knows the interior of
Rochester Cathedral will be
familiar with its 13th-century mural,
which depicts onthe wheel of
fortune the rise of the humble and
theunseating of the proud (left). So
perhaps it is obvious to ask whether
this painting is what inspired
the monk's tale:

In Tragic Manner I will now lament
The griefs of those who stood

in high degree

And fell at last with no expedient
To bring them out of their adversity.
For sure it is, if Fortune wills to flee,
No man may stay her course or

keep his hold;
Let no one trust a blind prosperity.
Be warned by these examples,

true and old.

Our less-than-cheerful monk is

preoccupied with calamity.

He starts with the fallen angel,

Lucifer, turns next to Adam,

warms to his theme with Sampson,

and on he goes in

the same vein. Only one woman

features in his list: the

third-century Queen of Palmyra,

Zenobia. Those

interested in gender issues might

also note with interest

that it is a woman, Fortuna, who

controls the wheel that

raises some and topples others.


Chaucer's host prods the monk into telling his tale, noting: "Why,

look! We've almost

got to Rochester!" Was this because the monk came from

the ancient Benedictine

monastery there, or was it because the Bishop of Rochester

at that time, Thomas

Brinton, was a stern critic of monastic laxity? We shall probably

never know, and it may

not matter. What is of interest is the extent to which the wheel

of fortune was a common

theme in medieval decorative and devotional art.

This theme draws on an aspect of life that Jesus outlines in

today's Gospel, but recurs

throughout his teaching. Investment in the esteem of this

world is folly: in God alone can

lasting value be found. Later in his Gospel, Luke records

Jesus saying that "all who exalt themselves will be humbled,

but those who humble themselves will be exalted" (Luke 18.14).

A similar point is made by the many sayings that use childlikeness

to illustrate the character

of the Kingdom. Jesus is quoted in Matthew's Gospel as saying

that "whoever becomes

humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven"

(Matthew 18.4). Indeed,

the image of self-abasement is the example Jesus himself sets:

"whoever wishes to be

first among you must be your slave; just as the Son of Man came

not to be served but to

serve, and to give his life a ransom for many" (Matthew 20.27-28).

What is interesting about the fresco at Rochester is its location at

the head of the

monastic quire that is still in use and preserves stalls that date

from 1227. The painting

was done about 20 years later. The Rule of St Benedict requires

its followers "to look

death daily in the eye". Benedict describes death in this instance

as "suspectam",

something suspect and unreliable, striking at any moment

without warning.

This could appear to contrast with the regular pattern of monastic

life, which seems to

guarantee security and even status within an ordered community.

But, passing the

fresco on the north wall of the quire several times a day, the

monks at Rochester were

reminded that status bestowed by fortune in this world, even in a

monastery, is a fickle

thing. It is a lesson Benedict had learned in the Gospel as we

heard it today, and wished

to pass on to his spiritual children.

Although Luke presents the story of how to behave at a

banquet as a parable (Luke 14.7),

the content of what Jesus says is commonly found elsewhere

in advice on table manners.

The observation from Rabbi Hillel, an older contemporary of Jesus,

about meal-time

behaviour is: "My humiliation is my exaltation, and my exaltation

is my humiliation."

Jesus is also asking his disciples to learn the manners of what

it means to behave

in a way

that characterises a kingdom of service, not supremacy.

One imagines that the painting of fortune's wheel in the

monastic quire of Rochester

was intended to inspire the members of that community to

learn good manners.

These would be manners that reflected the behaviour of people

living and building a

civilisation of love.

Jesus turns ordinary comment on table manners into a parable

about the value

system of the Kingdom. We might respond by asking what good

manners we should

practise, in church and beyond, in order to reveal these values.

In a religious community, eating together is the extension of

praying together. Courtesy,

the needs of others, the pace of the slowest, patient requests,

and gracious thanks -

these considerations all contribute to the regulation of the

common life in Christ.

What are our basic manners like? Who models for us the good

manners that honour

the weakest and calmly resist deference to the strongest?

And how does our liturgical

and devotional life foster these discipline among us?


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