• Teaching sermon on Confession and Absolution

    During Lent, I’m preaching giving simple teaching addresses focussing on different things that we do during the Eucharist.

    In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

    I don’t know whether you’ve given something up for Lent.

    These days I often tend to think of taking something up for Lent rather than giving up a bad habit.

    I remember in one of the churches that I used to work there was a wonderful woman who came to the midweek service. She came from a very churchy family – the sister of a priest, was married to a priest and was a powerful church woman herself.

    And she used to come along to worship at the midweek service that I usually took. We met in that church on Wednesdays and so the midweek service always carried on with the same congregation plus a few more on Ash Wednesday.

    And the thing I remember about her today is an Ash Wednesday when there was a lot of chatter over the post service coffee about what they were all giving up for Lent – it certainly wasn’t biscuits.

    And someone said, “What are you giving up for Lent Margaret”.

    And she looked them straight in the eye and said, “I’m giving up what I usually give up”.

    “What’s that they all chorused”.

    And she waited just long enough to get the attention of the entire room and said, “Bad thoughts”

    I thought it was the perfect answer. If only it was easier to do.

    But easy isn’t what Lent is necessarily about.

    The hardest Lenten discipline that I ever undertook was the first one I undertook when I joined the Episcopal Church.

    I grew up in the Salvation Army where we didn’t have Lent though we did dedicate February to something similar called Self Denial.

    We also didn’t have any alcohol or intoxicants.

    Which is how I managed to make it to being a postgrad student in my mid twenties who had never had a drop to drink.

    I recognise that it is more normal to give up alcohol for Lent.

    However, I did join the Scottish Episcopal Church in my second year as a theology student and may well have been the first student in Christendom ever to give up being teetotal for Lent.

    I’m not sure that I have much wisdom to offer from that time other than that whisky and cider don’t mix nicely.

    And to be honest, although I’ll occasionally have a drink now, it is a very rare one.

    But all of this is a long-winded way of getting me to what I’ve given up for Lent this year.

    Well, I’ve given up preaching on the bible readings for Lent this year.

    And am going to preach a series of teaching sermons for Lent this year and instead of focusing on the bible readings, I’m going to let them speak for themselves.

    I’m going to preach us through the Eucharist for the next few weeks.

    Stopping at a different key point in the order of service each week to give us pause to think about what’s going on.

    This week I’ve stopped us at the Confession and Absolution. Just to rest a moment and think about what we’re doing when we say these words.

    It is important because I think that if we become Eucharistic people and put ourselves in the way of the liturgy, it will resonate around inside us and reappear in our consciousness when we need it, not just when we’re in church.

    The words that we say each week make and remake us. They shape us. They take their part in building us into being the people that God wants us to become.

    God is love and we are his children. There is no room for fear in love. We love because he loved us first.

    May those words come back to you when you need them.

    There is no room for fear in love.

    Countless times in scripture we  encounter people being afraid. From the shepherds on the hillside at Christmas to the disciples startled by the risen Christ, the message from on high is “Do not be afraid”.

    We remind ourselves of that before the confession because the confession is part of making us able to live without fear.

    God our Father, we confess to you and to our fellow members in the Body of Christ that we have sinned in thought, word and deed, and in what we have failed to do.

    What we acknowledge when we confess is a bit like what most people acknowledge when they think about the world today or read the papers. Things are not the way they should be.

    In the confession, we acknowledge our part in it.

    And we do the thing needed to sort it out.

    We are truly sorry. Forgive us our sins, and deliver us from the power of evil, for the sake of your Son who died for us, Jesus Christ, our Lord.

    Now, confession relates to two aspects of life when we’re not together.

    Firstly, confession together in church is part of what shapes us into being people who will own up when we get things wrong in our lives when we are not in church.

    That how the liturgy in church is supposed to affect you.

    It shapes you and makes you different.

    That should be the consequence of coming here. And for goodness sake, if the liturgy here doesn’t do that, go and find somewhere where it does.

    Secondly, remember that our church also offers the chance to engage in the sacrament of confession privately with a priest.

    I have received the sacrament both as a penitent and a confessor and I would describe both as being a gift and a place where God does business with us.

    The rule in our church about private confession is very clear – all may, some should, none must.

    It is simply available and something which every priest in the church has to offer to everyone or point the person towards another priest who can hear their confession.

    That is available in this church and the clergy are happen to be approached about it at any time. Lent being a particularly good time.

    I was involved in a trial recently and one of the most important bits of it was when the sherrif said, “I have heard the crown witnesses and they have been both credible and reliable”.

    I already knew I was telling the truth.

    But it was something else to hear someone say they believed me.

    Confession is about telling the truth to God. Knowing who we really are in the world and facing up to the stuff we would rather not face.

    And  the promise is the same.

    If we do so. We will be forgiven.

    For God, who is both power and love, will forgive us and will free us from our sins,

    Will heal and strengthen us by his Spirit, and will raise us to new life in Christ our Lord.

    In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.
    Amen.

9 responses to “Turning Up and Being Counted”

  1. Lesley-Ann craddock Avatar
    Lesley-Ann craddock

    Thank you Kelvin
    What a read, I really enjoyed it, all of it. You have touched on the 3 things that I too have been wrestling with.
    Liturgy , turning up to be counted, and being open and real with our peers and counterparts.
    Hmmm I wonder if those aspects of being church in this post pandemic implosion of society will somehow be a catalyst to become braver clergy and have proper discussions about what matters to Gods church in its own context. Can we be diverse and not divided, can we lock into our heritage and yet be able to change too. Can Branson pickle save us. X

  2. Christine McIntosh Avatar
    Christine McIntosh

    Great stuff, Kelvin!

  3. Robert MacDonald Avatar
    Robert MacDonald

    Good points well made. We find some church members, who organise a community lunch on a Wednesday, then regularly say ‘we won’t make it on Sunday’. Seems the wrong way round – attendance on a Sunday should come first.

  4. Peggy Brewer Avatar
    Peggy Brewer

    Reading this made my day and contributes to my celebration of the season! Thank you!

  5. Calum Wyllie Avatar
    Calum Wyllie

    Reading this, I feel like it could have been written about me. I couldn’t have been more deeply involved with my church (felt deeply rooted in the weekly liturgy, sat on the PCC, led on diversity and inclusion, set up online streaming for the first time during lockdown), yet I haven’t been back in two years. There is definitely an element of that link of continuity having been broken, and it’s up to me to make the effort to reforge it again. But the anger is also real, and hard to pin down. When somewhere no longer feels like home, when you feel excluded (even when that person was responsible for leading on inclusion!), how do you find the courage to return? When the link with spirituality feels more present in other places (even when I used to absolutely value liturgy, the Eucharist, the community), how do you find a way forward? Too much thinking, and not enough getting on and doing, perhaps…

  6. Meg Rosenfeld Avatar
    Meg Rosenfeld

    Wow–this article is not only thought-provoking, and, to someone who’s a church-goer, extremely easy to identify with, but also entertaining and therefore all the more memorable. As one whose parish church (in San Francisco’s notorious Haight Ashbury neighborhood) nowadays gets about 15 people in the congregation on a “good” day, I do often wonder whether we’re ever going to bounce back from this expletive-deleted pandemic. Personally, I have no choice: I am, on the aforementioned good day, 50% of the alto section, and on other days, 100% thereof. All you folks out there don’t know what you’re missing–except, of course, those of you who are watching on your home computers.

  7. Father Ron Smith Avatar

    Well said, Kelvin Perhaps we clergy don’t stress enough the fact that the Host at our worship is not the clergy, but the Incarnate Son of God; who empowers us to the extent that we are willing to be empowered for daily life and work. I still think of that lovely phrase “Turn towards HIM and be radiant”. What a thrill!

  8. Kennedy fraser Avatar
    Kennedy fraser

    Yes,I still wonder if we have counted all those spiritual communions

  9. John Davies Avatar
    John Davies

    My church (suburban, evangelical Anglican in Birmingham, UK) took a long time to really recover from the lockdown and subsequent fears, but seems to be close to its pre-shutdown numbers again. What my wife and I noticed was that for quite some time the congregation was largely made up of its elderly members – ie those who are not perhaps so nifty with the electronic gadgetry of our age and, also, those who most wanted company. Younger families took a lot longer to return, but are now coming out of the woodwork again.
    One interesting point is that my old church reported a big increase in deaf people watching their zoom or youtube services, because one of the congregation provided signage at the front. Their new found audience felt greatly enabled to join in when they may otherwise never have done so. Is this something worth thinking more about?

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