'Treasure in clay jars'
Bishop James' sermon given at the Chrism Eucharist, at Rochester Cathedral on Thursday 1 April, 2021
(A video of the live stream of the service can be found here)
As the bishop says at every ordination service, “You cannot bear the weight of this calling in your own strength, but only by the grace and power of God…”. And while that comes from the ordination services for clergy, it does apply more generally, including for those called to serve in our various lay ministries. Our need of God’s grace is said here to be due to the weightiness of the calling, and that is of course true. But our own human frailty underlines that need. We have this treasure in clay jars.
If you’re at all like me, the experience of this last year will have made you more aware of your frailty, your vulnerability – as also that of those around you. At a societal level, this pandemic has brought home to us, particularly those of us in so-called developed societies, that we may be rather less in control of our own destinies than we might wish to think.
The latest Office for National Statistics figures tell us that deaths in the UK involving Covid have now reached 150,000 – a year ago that might have seemed far-fetched. The stunning efforts of our scientists mean that we now understand the virus and have vaccines. But all over the world, politicians have struggled to make the necessary decisions and often our institutions and structures have been found to be vulnerable.
More personally, many of us have really struggled – and continue to do so – with the effects of ‘distancing’. We have experienced a diminishing of our humanity especially as we have become wary of our contact with one another; we have had to behave in ways that are not natural to us as we have held ourselves apart, we have not visited elderly relatives….
And for many that has affected our well-being as humans. And that has added to the other frailties of illness, bereavement, tiredness, anxiety, financial insecurity and much more. We have this treasure in clay jars.
And beyond Covid, other frailties and faults have also been revealed both in our world and in the church. Climate-related concerns are ever present, the trial of the alleged killer of George Floyd has begun with all that that signifies about society, a government report on racism prompts a decidedly mixed response, violence against women becomes front-page news, and we are faced with the realities of abuse against children in church-related settings. We have this treasure in clay jars.
Our passage from St Paul comes as part of a wonderful section running through several chapters in which the apostle reflects upon the ministry to which he is called, and not least on his own frailty and fallibility in that ministry. But with that there is his unshakeable confidence in God’s grace and in the work of the Spirit which transforms the paucity of that which he himself is able to offer.
Paul sees himself and others being transformed so that our unveiled faces reflect the glory of God – this is a continuing process as one degree of glory succeeds another - and it is the Spirit’s work to bring this to reality. And it is this work of the Spirit within us that carries us into the ministry we share, as we proclaim not ourselves but Jesus Christ as Lord. And thus shines out the light of the knowledge of the glory God in the face of Jesus Christ.
But all of this wonderfulness of glory and of the Spirit’s work in us, treasure though it be, is held in jars of clay. And that’s what we’ve been learning through these days and is what I see in the mirror each morning.
Though I may at times be dressed in fine robes and have people address me as ‘My Lord Bishop’, my jar is not made of the finest porcelain, nor is it richly decorated. Its clay-ness is very evident. The jar is flawed and the jar is me. A jar of clay, of earth, of dust – ‘Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return’.
Knowing who and how we are, it’s a wonder that any of us respond to God’s call at all – but of course that’s just it: it is a wonder. God chooses to work in and through such as us, perhaps because only thus is the wonder of his grace fully known. And thus are we to seek the lower place and, after the pattern of our Lord, to be the ones who serve. And in this week of all weeks, we see that even the life of our Lord was a jar made in clay.
For in this week even he is made weak and vulnerable, he stumbles and he falls under the weight of all he must bear. And yet, disfigured, burdened, wounded as he was, he is not ultimately crushed or destroyed. The jar, clay as it be, continues to hold the treasure and we, carrying as we may his death, still may make visible his life.
Clay jars were commonly used to carry lights. And some commentators have suggested that it is the poorer quality jars through which light may the more easily shine. The light is seen more through the thin and flawed jar than it is through that which is better made and highly decorated. And there is the paradox of this week and indeed of the pattern of our faith.
In weakness is found strength; woundedness becomes the ground of healing; defeat begets victory; despair is turned to hope, and death is the seed of life. The expected ways of the world are turned on their heads as the tree of shame becomes the tree of glory.
I clearly had not expected that my final Maundy Thursday as your bishop would be in these circumstances, nor that my farewell would probably have to be rather muted. I remember when I was asked to oversee the arrangements for the retirement of a bishop in another place; we hired a major concert-hall because the cathedral wasn’t big enough and there were grand dinners and civic events. That won’t be happening here, and actually that may be better.
Because in the end we’re not in this for achievement, plaudits and fanfares. Our Lord’s farewell dinner was a foreshadowing of his death, his plaudits were insults and mockery, and his achievement, at one level at least, was a strange group of followers, the most vocal of whom denied having ever known him. We have this treasure in jars of clay.
And so we clay jars go on and do not lose heart - our flaws clearly visible, the glaze becoming chipped, the colour fading. Flawed and fallible we go on and do not lose heart, because we know that God has called and chosen. And God has gifted us with treasure to place within our jars – it is by God’s mercy that we do what we do, it is God’s Spirit who is at work in us, it is God’s glory which shines in the face of Jesus Christ and, wonder of wonders, is reflected also in ours.
We dare to hope that we may, at least in this country, be emerging from the worst of this last year. As we do so, there will be need for rest, for healing, for renewal. We will have learned things, discovered new truths about ourselves, the world and God. Pray God that out of distancing, our relating to others will be the more healthy and just. Pray God we will take what has been good and reshape that for the future. Pray God we will forget neither our frailty nor the grace and power of God.
We have this treasure in clay jars.