• 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.

10 responses to “Guest Post: At Home Among the Dissenters – John McLuckie”

  1. tom donald Avatar

    Are you really PAID by the NHS? Money that could pay for a nurse or a physiotherapist? You must be tremendously confident that your faith is meaningful if you are! I’m not sure if I envy that or not…

    1. Beth Avatar

      In most hospitals, there are hospital chapels and hospital chaplains. It isn’t a new or shocking thing. My experience has been that most of them do very good work, and are available for anyone from any religion who wishes to speak to them and don’t force themselves on the ones who prefer not to. The practice of medicine is about a lot more than just the physical, especially in a cancer hospital, and unless you want doctors to be the ones offering spiritual support (I don’t think I’d be that good at it, I don’t have enough hours in the day as it is, and, as my patients have to see me whether they subscribe to my religion or not, I think it can be inappropriate and intrusive), I’m quite happy for the NHS to pay someone who specialises in the area of spiritual support to fulfill that very real need.

      – Beth, who works for the NHS

      1. Ruth Avatar
        Ruth

        Thank you Beth. I couldn’t have put it better.

        – Ruth, whose sister died in hospital not all that long ago

    2. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
      Rosemary Hannah

      Agree with Beth, and …
      is this really a world where the big ideas about birth, death, love, hate, forgiveness, suffering should not be discussed? Where one can live and suffer and give birth and die without thinking about them? does not the very suggestion this should be so impoverish us every bit as much as as suffering and death can? And is certainty in any way necessary to enter such a discussion?

      1. tom donald Avatar

        Interesting! My original question was about confidence… here’s one to test it a little more, today there’s a headline in the Guardian:
        ” NHS to axe cancer and heart experts. Charities and doctors warn that treatment of killer diseases will suffer as number of teams is cut”
        Yet according to the BBC the NHS is spending £40 million per annum on chaplains!
        Which means that chaplains must be VERY confident that this money is better spent on talk than treatment, or I’m sure they wouldn’t take it. Would they?
        By the way I was a nurse at Gartnavel Royal for many years. Never saw hide nor hair of the chaplain up there, although apparently, there was one!

  2. John MacBrayne Avatar
    John MacBrayne

    What an excellent blog John has. Most interesting. Thanks for the link.

  3. Rosemary Hannah Avatar
    Rosemary Hannah

    Um – as one with friends and family in the NHS I wonder how much of the money spent in the last weeks of a terminally-ill person’s life is well spent. Sometimes a great deal is spent on treatments which are hugely unpleasant and prolong life by weeks or months at best. I made a decision years ago that when (and given family history when is more likely than if) I find myself there I will ask very searching questions.

    I won’t answer for John, but for myself… I am ‘tremendously confident’ that examining the questions around my faith is ‘meaningful’ and indeed essential. That is not at all the same thing as being sure my beliefs are right.

    We have what is supposed to be a Health Service – something which promotes well-being. People are more complex than their conditions – and we all die one day. A great deal of money is spend on all kinds of things which make the lives of those in hospital better, because people cannot get through life-crises on medicine alone.

  4. tom donald Avatar

    I think that characterising cancer and heart disease treatment as terminal care is extremely depressing, and perhaps fifty years out of date. And the health service is there to promote well-being? I don’t think so, I think it’s to provide medical and para-medical care during illness..
    Not that I don’t love chatting to a minister of religion, anytime. I do! But not on the NHS budget please! UNLESS…
    Unless it’s been demonstrated in properly designed clinical trials that a visit from the chaplain is worth the cash. That’s the test for all the other expensive treatments we’re paying for!

  5. rosemary hannah Avatar
    rosemary hannah

    I did not describe cancer and heart conditions as terminal. However I do expect to die one day.

  6. Ruth Avatar
    Ruth

    I’m not sure that the benefits to a patient from a visit from the chaplain could be usefully or accurately measured by ‘properly designed clinical trials’…. from a personal viewpoint I know that the last twelve weeks of my sister’s life (a young 62 year old with cancer and desperate to live) were made more bearable by the chaplain’s ability to help her cope with the sullen, spitefulness of too many of her nurses.

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