Calendars

The Anglican lectionary (and indeed the lectionary of all other churches) operates with two basic calendars; a lunar calendar centred on Easter (which is defined by the Passover new moon) from Ash Wednesday, forty days before Easter, through to Pentecost, fifty days after Easter, and Trinity Sunday a week later; and a solar calendar for the rest of the year. These move relative to each other with Easter occurring from late March to late April. But there are further lower-level calendars in use. Firstly, there is what one might call an agricultural calendar – the quarter days that have gained some religious significance (Christmas obviously at the midwinter solstice, but also Lady Day at the spring equinox in March, the feast of St John the Baptist at the midsummer solstice in June, and Michaelmas at the Autumn equinox in September) and between these festivals there are those that seem to have grown out of agricultural practices and possibly reflect ancient Celtic festivals but have again been given a Christian identity – Candlemas at the start of February (Imbolc), May Day (Beltaine), Lammas at the start of August (Lughnasa) and All Saints / All Souls (Samhain) at the start of November. Secondly we have post biblical Saints Days, usually celebrated on the day of their death and thus fixed to the Solar calendar.

With all of these, I have absolutely no problem – they are all in some way natural – indeed one might say God given and reflect the way the world is, and the days God chose to call his saints to heaven.  But there is another low-level calendar reflected in the lectionary – that of church tradition. These are of two basic types – traditional church seasons and themes for particular Sundays that have their basis in fossilized church practice rather than scripture; and the identification of specific days for biblical saints, such as the apostles for whom no death dates are known, again fossilized through church tradition. With these calendars I do have significant issues – mainly because of their imposition on the more natural calendars, and the distortion of the lectionary that results from this, that, to my mind, obscures the telling of the biblical story and the proper appreciation of the overall gospel narrative., which I see as the prime role of any church lectionary. I will illustrate this by describing the period in the church’s year when I get particularly annoyed about this, from All Saints at the start of November to Candlemas at the start of February, which effectively mark the start and end of the winter season.

All Saints to Candlemas in the current lectionary

Table 1 shows the leading bible reading from the Lectionary and the themes of these readings (which are almost always the Gospel) for each of the three liturgical years, for Sundays and major festivals. The period covered is from All Saints to Candlemas.

In the run up to Christmas, Advent is a season of preparation for both the first and second comings of Christ. There are a number of “themes” that have been used over the centuries. The oldest are the traditional Advent themes are death judgement, heaven and hell. Sensibly to my mind, the modern lectionary looks at these themes, although not explicitly, in the period between All Saints at the start of November and the week before Advent Sunday at the end of November / start of December. For two of the three years (A and C), the gospels are the Blessings / Woes from Matthew and Luke, presumably describing “saintly” qualities. For year B however, the gospel, perhaps oddly, is the raising of Lazarus from John’s gospel. These days, All Saints is more frequently observed on the Sunday nearest November 1^st, and the readings for the 4^th Sunday before Advent are often not used because of this. For the 4^th to 2^nd Sundays before Advent, years A and C follow the apocalyptic discourses in Matthew and Luke, whilst year B has two rather random readings from Mark, before returning to the Markan apocalypse on the 2^nd Sunday before Advent. The Sunday before Advent (around the end of November) is celebrated as the feast of Christ the King, a quite recent addition to the liturgical calendar from 1925, which for all the merits of the theme, does disrupt the sequence of readings. Year A continues the Matthean apocalypse with the parable of the Sheep and the Goats, which also matches the Christ the King theme, but Years B and C use passion readings from John and Luke – the kingship of Jesus being demonstrated on the cross. To complicate matters further the feast of St Andrew occurs on November 30^th, with the leading reading being his call from St. Matthew’s gospel. On Advent Sunday, the apocalyptic theme returns in all years, with readings from Matthew, Mark and Luke. Overall, in years A and C, there is a coherent set of readings, whilst year B is a bit of a mish mash. Christ the King however badly disrupts the sequence in years B and C.

More recently the themes for the four Sundays in Advent have been enumerated as the Patriarchs, the Prophets, John the Baptist and the Virgin Mary and these form the basis for many “Advent candle songs” with verses describing each of these themes being sung at the lighting of the Advent Candle during Sunday services. More recently a set of more anodyne themes that might be thought more appropriate to our current age have become to be used – hope, peace, joy and love. And on top of all of these we have the current lectionary provision – the second coming on Advent Sunday, John the Baptist (his ministry rather than his birth) on Advent 2 and 3, and the Annunciation, the Visitation or the appearance of the angle to Joseph on Advent 4. Congregations are thus often left to sing an Advent carol song which has no relationship at all to whichever of the different themes are being used, so confusion is added to the utter lack of literary or musical merit usually found in these songs. They should be confined to a liturgical dustbin in my view. More seriously, the lectionary does not in any way reflect the birth narratives in Matthew and Luke, which have a well-defined structure and need to be read as a whole. In picking and choosing passages, and not including all the birth narratives of Jesus and John in Matthew and Luke, the current situation obscures the basic thread of scripture that describes the coming of the Christ child.

The Lectionary gives the two basic readings for Christmas itself as Luke 2.1-20 (the birth and the coming of the shepherds) and John 1.1-14 (the majestic reflection on the pre-existence and incarnation of Christ and the light overcoming the darkness). I have no issues with this. After Christmas, however, things get decidedly messy. December 26^th and 27^th are taken up with two biblical saints’ days for St Stephen and St John, and any clergy that have the energy to celebrate them after the pre-Christmas silly season, must rapidly change gear to completely different periods – those of the Acts of the Apostles, and the post resurrection appearances of Jesus. Then on the 28^th, there is the feast of the Holy Innocents – well in advance of the Epiphany reading of the coming of the Magi which was the cause of the slaughter. This confusion is only ameliorated by the fact that these feasts are seldom observed due to the post-Christmas fatigue of clergy and congregations.

This confusion continues on the Sundays after Christmas. On the first Sunday there is a somewhat random set of nativity and infancy readings – the flight to Egypt, a repeat of the visit of the shepherds to the birth with verses added referring to the Circumcision of Christ, celebrated 8 days after Christmas on January 1^st, and the story of the boy Jesus in the temple in Jerusalem, all of which defy any sensible chronological sequence. On the second Sunday after Christmas (which seldom occurs in reality), John 1 is again read in all years.

The feast of the Epiphany on January 6^th arose in the eastern church in the second or third century. The main reading is the coming of the Magi to Jesus, but it has also gained associations with other themes – in particular the wedding at Cana in Galilee and the Baptism of Jesus – an infancy story and two stories from the start of Jesus’ ministry, giving a chronological nightmare, within the service itself. These days, Epiphany is usually commemorated on the first Sunday in the new year rather than on January 6^th itself.  The Baptism of Jesus by John the Baptist is usually celebrated the Sunday after Epiphany and repeats some of the pre-Christmas material featuring the Baptist. On the next three Sundays, there is much repetition of these themes together with the other stories around the start of Jesus’ ministry – his teaching in Nazareth, and the call of the disciples, depending on liturgical year. In year B, there are again some rather random readings from St. Mark’s gospel.  On 25^th January, the feast of the Conversion of St Paul is scheduled – again requiring a liturgical leap between the early part of Jesus’ ministry and events that occurred perhaps 5 to 10 years later. The modern “Week of Prayer for Christian Unity” is scheduled for this period just to complicate matters.

Finally, we come to the Feast of the Presentation of Christ in the Temple (Candlemas) on February 2^nd. It is placed 40 days after the birth and as such represents the time between birth and purification in New Testament times – but in Lectionary terms, we jump back from the start of Jesus’s ministry to just after his birth. Confusion all around.

So all in all, the current lectionary is a bit of a mess, that doesn’t properly allow the gospel stories of the birth and early ministry of Jesus to be told. This largely due to what can be called the traditional calendar that, for reasons of church tradition places various events in a rather random order, particularly after Christmas, but with considerable chunks of the nativity story omitted and repetition of some material – particularly concerning John the Baptist.

But is there another way? I turn to that in what follows.

Table 1 Current lectionary provision

A revised lectionary from All Saints to Candlemas

In what follows I set out a lectionary scheme that, I believe, allows the gospel narrative to be heard clearly. It is really an exercise in vanity – I am not, and never will be, in any position to impose this on a congregation or on the wider church (for which I suspect there are many reasons to be grateful) but putting it together has been an interesting diversion. I make the following assumptions.

• The proposed lectionary shown in table 2 is, other than on Christmas Day, based entirely on Sundays – as in reality that is the only time when congregations gather in any number, and we count the Sundays as either before or after Christmas.
• Three gospel accounts are used – Matthew (year A), John (year B) and Luke (year C). The material in the gospel of Mark has been used and expanded by Matthew and Luke, and its inclusion would only lead to repetition.
• As far as possible, the gospel accounts are read in the order in which they occur in scripture. This means that the traditional placement of some of the pre- and post-Christmas material is changed, and that the traditional calendar is ignored completely.
• I do not include any of what might be called “community” services in the period considered – such as All Souls, Christingle, Crib and Carol services – which will take on forms appropriate to the communities to which they are offered, including parts of the nativity story. Rather I concentrate on the services appropriate to the regular, worshipping congregation.
• Some of the suggested gospel readings are longer than would currently be expected, and novel ways of reading them might be required – perhaps to have two gospel readings at the expense of Old and New Testament readings?

So let us now consider table 2. The proposed lectionary begins with All Saints on the 8^th Sunday before Christmas, with the readings being either the Matthean or Lukan Beatitudes (as in the current lectionary) or a passage from John 15 where the writer urges Christians to love one another – all three setting out the behaviour of saints.  The readings for the 7^th to 4^th Sundays before Christmas then follow either the Matthean or Lukan apocalypses, read in the order in which they are written, or John 14 and the early part of John 15. These thus allow the consideration of the traditional advent themes of death, heaven, hell and judgement, with the readings for the 4^th Sunday before Christmas being suitable for what would be Advent Sunday. I chose the readings from John, as they set out the “realized eschatology” of that gospel, which is an important strand in the overall gospel story. The readings for the next two weeks, the 3^rd and 2^nd Sundays before Christmas, are the same for all lectionary years and allow the telling of Luke’s stories of the announcement and birth of John the Baptist, the Annunciation and the Visitation in an ordered way. The Sunday before Christmas is again the same for all years and includes the genealogy according to Matthew (which in my view is a vital, and usually neglected, part of the gospel story) and the appearance of the angel to Joseph. The readings for the last three Sundays before Christmas are all long and may need to be split – although the Magnificat and the Benedictus could be omitted in the provision of the 2^nd Sunday before Christmas and used as songs / canticles of worship within the service. Taken together, the provision from All Saints onwards allows effectively a seven-week advent. It does, however, make a bit of a mess of the Advent candle and Advent wreath traditions, which would need reinventing if they are to be used within what is proposed.

The provision for Christmas Day (including the late-night service on Christmas Eve) is the story of Jesus’ birth from the first half of Luke 2. Immediately after Christmas, there is no provision for St Stephen, St John or the Massacre of the Innocents. Perhaps the major change to current provision occurs on the Sunday after Christmas, where the reading for all three lectionary years is the second half of Luke 2, which covers the Circumcision, and the Presentation in the Temple. Again, the Nunc Dimittis could be omitted and used elsewhere in the service. The reading for the second Sunday after Christmas is the visit of the Magi, the massacre of the Innocents and the flight to Egypt. Its timing is consistent with the timing of Epiphany, so the old order has not been completely overturned.

For the next three Sundays, there are separate readings for the lectionary years – from Matthew in year A, John in year B and Luke in year C as before. For the 3^rd Sunday after Christmas, the readings are all accounts of the ministry of the Baptist and the Baptism of Jesus, and for the following two Sundays, they include accounts of events in the early ministry of Jesus –  the temptation of Jesus in the wilderness, the calling of the disciples, the early preaching in Galilee and the wedding at Cana – all read in the same order as in the gospel account. The Temptation reading is of course traditionally associated with the start of Lent (thus producing yet another chronological fault in the current lectionary) – we will consider this a little further below. The year C Christmas 3 reading is long – including both the passages on the Baptist and Baptism, and also the Genealogy. The latter is, however, an important part of the narrative and to some degree acts as an epilogue to the nativity story. Only one part of Luke’s account is omitted – the story of the boy Jesus in the temple (Luke 2.41-e). This could be included as a second reading for Christmas 2 but would result in an awkward mix of gospels for that day.

The final Sunday coincides with the timing of Candlemas, and the reading suggested for all three years is the majestic opening of John 1, with its meditation upon the themes of light and darkness, as a summing up of all that has gone before. The traditional candle ceremonies would be wholly appropriate here.

Table 2. Revised Lectionary provision

Other thoughts

Some other thoughts arise.

• In the proposed lectionary, I have made no attempt to include Old or New Testament reading, but there are many such that could be assigned which would fit the various themes. In particular sequences for the seven Sundays before Christmas based on Isaiah or the Advent antiphons would be appropriate.
• Having attempted to remove the festival calendar from the All Saints to Candlemas period, where should the displaced feasts go? Some of them (the Massacre of the Innocents and the Circumcision) have actually been incorporated into the scheme of readings, but there are also the biblical saints’ days – St Andrew, St Stephen, St John and St Paul – what should happen to these? I would suggest that a fresh approach to such festivals is required – the assigned dates are quite arbitrary in any case. One possibility would be a weekly lectionary of one saints day or festival per week that could be used at a midweek service (say between Pentecost and All Saints) at an appropriate time for a specific congregation.
• The traditional reading for the start of Lent is that of the Temptation, that has been used in mid-January, in its proper gospel context, in the proposed lectionary. I have never been a great fan of Lent (it being part of the traditional calendar), but if a period of reflection before the passion is required based on Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem, then in my view the appropriate starting point for this would be the story of the Transfiguration.

Concluding remarks

In this post I have set out my irritations with the current lectionary provision, particularly for the Sundays around Christmas. In my view, the overlapping calendars that are in use, and the way in which a wide variety of different passages are read week by week, serve to obscure the gospel story and do not do justice to the narratives themselves. I have proposed something that I would find more appealing. However I suspect that not all would agree with my views, and that for many the current mix and variability of the readings are a glorious kaleidoscope of scripture through which God speaks to them. Such folk will of course, probably quite correctly dismiss all that I have written!

The video below is from June 2023, a lecture given in Streetly parish church as part of an Eco-week. This was a modified version of a similar presentation made in St. Michael’s in November 2022.

In his book “Jesus and the eyewitnesses”, the theologian and bible scholar Richard Bauckham argues, persuasively in my view, that the four New Testament gospels that have comedown to us actually represent mainly eyewitness accounts of the life and deeds of Jesus. This is chiefly indicated by a particular literary device – the inclusio – in which a particular disciple or eyewitness appears at the start and end of the events that he or she is claimed to have witnessed. As such this hypothesis is a welcome corrective to what seems to have been the prevailing critical belief that the gospels were the result of a reworking of various traditions about Jesus by early Christian communities. Bauckham is, in his gentle way, quietly scathing of this concept using phrases such as “the imaginary Johanine community“. It has always seemed to me that such theories have resulted from the sceptical presumptions of liberal scholars themselves, rather than from a proper study of the text, and it is nice to have someone of the status of Richard Bauckham to reinforce my own personal presumptions that in the first instance the biblical texts should be taken at face value and assumed to be reliable.

Whist Bauckham argues his case for all the gospels, a large part of the book is concerned with the Gospel of St John. He argues, again very persuasively from my perspective, that this represents the eyewitness testimony of the one identified in the text as “the disciple whom Jesus loved”, and who he further identifies as the John the Elder of the writings of Papias, rather than with John the son of Zebedee, one of the twelve disciples listed in the other gospels. This John seems to have been well connected with the religious authorities in Jerusalem and died at an advanced age in the latter years of the first century, probably in Ephesus, writing the gospel sometime before his death. He is also probably the writer of the three Johanine epistles, which have much in common linguistically with the gospel.

Now, if we assume that Bauckahm is correct, this leads to quite a significant issue. The beloved disciple was clearly present at some of the most important stages in Jesus life, from the early calling of the disciples, through to his death and resurrection, and was clearly very close to Jesus, but yet does not, in any explicit way appear in any of the other gospels, or in the account of the life of the early church in the Acts of the Apostles, Indeed he does not appear to have become a recognised figure in the early church until late in life, when he is recorded in Papias and Polycrates. This absence is actually a very good argument for identifying the beloved disciple with John the Son of Zebedee (who certainly was around during Jesus’ ministry and death, and during the early years of the church), and, although I am loathe to admit it, for a community reworking of the Johanine tradition that eventually resulted in the gospel. So, assuming Bauckham is correct in his deductions, why does John the beloved disciple not appear in the synoptic record?

Bauckham himself gives one possible solution to this problem, although that results from a consideration of the case of the raising of Lazarus, which is only found in John’s gospel and not in the synoptics. He argues that this is a case (along with others in all the gospels) of protective anonymity. In other words, the raising of Lazarus is deliberately omitted from the synoptic accounts because it would have placed him in a position of danger because of the animosity of the Jewish authorities at the time when these were written, if he had been included and identified. By the time the gospel of John came to be written (perhaps two decades after the synoptics) the danger would have passed, and in all probability the major characters on both sides had died. The same reasoning could be applied to the beloved disciple himself, particularly if he was well connected with the religious establishment. There is indeed some tradition that this is the case, and a phrase in Polycrates suggests he was actually, at some point, the high priest (which Bauckham suggests is an erroneous back reading and identification with John, a member of the high priestly family in Acts 4). But if the beloved disciple was indeed close to the Jewish establishment,, then to be identified publicly as one of the disciples and a member of the early church would have been very dangerous, and his lack of mention in the synoptics and in Acts might be a simple recognition of this fact.

But there is another possible, and perhaps more disturbing explanation. As has been noted above, from the nature of the gospel it is likely that the beloved disciple was well connected with the Jerusalem religious establishment, with detailed knowledge of the workings of the Sanhedrin – both personally and through Nicodemus, who is again only mentioned in St John’s gospel. It seems to me possible that after the resurrection he became one of those who tried to hold on to the Jewish traditions whilst also following the teachings of Jesus. As such he, and perhaps others would have become objects of suspicion, particularly as more and more gentiles became believers. Whilst not saying that he was one of those urging circumcision that attracted the considerable ire of St Paul, nonetheless it would not be surprising that he and others in his position were omitted from the synoptic accounts and the Acts of the Apostles. In such a scenario it was perhaps only after the split between the church and Judaism became absolute post AD 70, and the emotions that drove the conflicts recorded in the Pauline epistles had cooled, that John the elder, the beloved disciple, would once more be able to take his place as one of the surviving eyewitnesses of the life and death of Jesus. If this were indeed the case, it makes the graciousness and lack of rancour of his gospel the more remarkable.

Preamble

The astute reader of my blog posts will know that I rarely post on theological or ecclesiastical matters, even though I am an Anglican clergyman, a role that consumes much of my time. There are a number of reasons for this. Firstly, most of my church-based output is in the form of sermons, which, being delivered to specific congregations at specific times and places, do not lend themselves to a written blog post format. For those interested in that sort of thing, some videos of my sermons, particularly from the lockdown period, can however be found here, along with those of others. But my main reason for not posting much in this area, is something of a feeling of inadequacy. Whilst I consider myself to be more or less on top of the recent literature and developments in my technical fields discussed on other pages on this site, and also to have a good grasp of the local history issues that I study, I really do not feel the same degree of comfort when considering biblical or theological sources – where my knowledge and reading barely scrapes the surface of what is after all a two thousand year old body of literature. There are however perhaps areas where I can contribute something to theological or ecclesiastical discussions. One of these is in the field of environmental issues, and it is that area with which this post is concerned.

In this post I will argue that a consideration of the overarching story of scripture of creation / fall / redemption / new creation, and in particular the eschatological aspects, has considerable implications for how Christians should regard environmental issues such as biodiversity and climate change, and, at least for a portion of our society, is a potentially useful tool for evangelism. In what follows I thus look at the big picture of the biblical narrative, come to what can only be a limited and provisional view about the overall purpose of God in creation, and discuss the implications for environmentalism and evangelism.

The big picture – the scriptural narrative

Although not often emphasized in ordinary church sermons and teaching, scripture as we have it presents a coherent overall narrative, through its multiplicity of literary forms. It begins with the creation of all that there is by God, culminating in the creation of humanity.

In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters… So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them. (Genesis 1,1-2,27, NIV)

This is followed by the narrative of the fall and, throughout the Old Testament, the unveiling of God’s “rescue plan” as Tom Wright would put it, through the covenant with Israel, the giving of the law and the message of the prophets. This plan finds its fulfillment in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus as outlined in the gospels and the pouring out of the Holy Spirit onto the church. The narrative culminates in the eschatological visions of Paul and in particular of John of Patmos, the writer of the book of Revelation, and his vision of the new heaven and the new earth.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. (Revelation 21, 1-3, NIV)

Clearly the core of this narrative is in the events that surround the life of Jesus. Different parts of the New Testament focus on these events in different ways. The earliest gospel, that of Mark, simply concentrates on Jesus’ life and death, his teachings and healings, and of the miracles that accompanied these. For him and the writers of the other synoptic gospels, this teaching is summed up in Jesus’ summary of the law.

‘Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12,29-31, NIV)

In Matthew and Luke, the field of vision is wider with the story of his birth and resurrection from the dead. Luke expands this a little more in Acts to describe the Ascension of Jesus to heaven, the coming of the Spirit and the outworking of that in the life of the early church. In John’s gospel the field of view becomes markedly wider. At the opening of the gospel we read

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. (John 1,1-3, NIV)

which takes the Jesus story back to the creation itself.  Later in the gospel we read how Jesus is described as coming from heaven, to where he will return.

No one has ever gone into heaven except the one who came from heaven—the Son of Man. (John 3.13)

This broader vision is further elaborated by Paul who gives little emphasis to the earthly life of Jesus, but rather views him as the eternal son of God, through him all things were made, who is now exalted with his Father in heaven, and through whom all things will be made new. He writes the following in the majestic words of the letter to the church at Colossae.

The Son is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn over all creation. For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross. (Colossians 1.15-20, NIV)

In talking of God reconciling all things to himself through Jesus, Paul implies that Jesus’ death and resurrection were not just concerned with the salvation of individuals. He also writes in his letter to the Roman church, words that are of considerable importance for the discussion of environmental issues, explicitly including the whole of creation in the redemptive work of Jesus.

For the creation waits in eager expectation for the children of God to be revealed.  For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the freedom and glory of the children of God. (Romans  8.19-21, NIV)

Finally, John of Patmos, in the visions of the book of Revelation, describes Jesus at the culmination of the biblical narrative.

“Look, I am coming soon! My reward is with me, and I will give to each person according to what they have done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. (Revelation 22.12-13, NIV)

But why?

This overall narrative is a stirring one indeed – but the story stops at the description of the new creation, heaven on earth. Perhaps that is all we are meant to contemplate. But I am left with a nagging question. Put simply, why was the created order, both physical and biological, so important to God that it merited the extreme intervention of the incarnation, death and resurrection of God himself as revealed in Jesus? And this is my starting point on the reflections that follow in this post.

Now I freely admit that my perspective on all this is not the divine one, but it seems to me utterly unsatisfactory that the narrative of scripture should be an end in itself, leaving us with the rather static picture of humanity and God together in the new creation into eternity. I am reminded of my least favourite carol which describes the fate of the redeemed in the words “where like stars His children crowned, all in white shall wait around”. There must be something better than that! I am thus led to conclude that the purpose of God in creation is to bring it, in its entirety, to a point of perfection, as outlined in the visions of Revelation, where it is fit for whatever purpose might follow – not as an end in itself. I am unable to suggest anything further as to what that purpose might be, but it does seem to me to suggest that there is something very, very special about the created order – something that cannot be achieved in any other way than through the physical and biological processes inherent within it.

Following on from this, I would suggest that the uniqueness of creation lies in its complexity and diversity, and that this could not be achieved in any other way than through what we know as the evolutionary processes. The laws that govern the physical creation are both deterministic and stochastic, and it is this inherent stochastic component that leads to the observed complexity that we see around us in our physical world and its geological, atmospheric and oceanic processes. The stochastic element arises from the essential element of chaos that lies at the heart of creation, chaos being used here in its scientific sense where it refers to the sensitivity of physical processes to small changes in the initial conditions, rather than its theological sense. This same mixture of deterministic and stochastic processes is found in the biological creation, with the main mechanism of its outworking being through the genetic / sexual reproduction process, resulting in the massively wide variety of plants and animals (including humanity) that comprise our biosphere. Taking this further, from the biological genetic variation in humans flows the immense variety of intellectual and cultural achievements that make our society what it is. My suggestion is that it is this very variability and complexity that is important to God – and the created order has been specifically designed to have this characteristic for some future purpose that is yet to be revealed.

Now, however one interprets the story of the fall, it is clear that in some way, the creation has been marred and become less than perfect. How this occurred is a matter for further speculation – through external agency or simply because this was always a possibility through the operation of the stochastic processes within it. The effects of the fall show themselves in what theologically is described as sin – the tendency to selfishness and self-interest, both individually and corporately, that mars our humanity and makes it incompatible with its continued existence beyond the grave. As such, Jesus, through his death and resurrection, can be thought of as removing this incompatibility in some way, through taking the human condition in its imperfect state, into the Godhead (perhaps here I am verging on one of the old heresies!). In doing so it was made possible for humanity to pass through death and to play whatever future role it might have in God’s ongoing purposes.

Sin also of course has wider effects and injures the wider human community and the whole of the created order. The injuries caused to society and to creation at any one place and at any one time, then spread throughout the physical and biological creations through the normal evolutionary and stochastic processes within the physical, biological and social creations. However, through Jesus’ earthly life we were given an example and the moral resources to live the sort of life that is a true reflection of our humanity, based on the love of God and neighbour as outlined in Jesus’s summary of the law. The giving of the Holy Spirit to his disciples was the act by which we are enabled to live the eternal life of our restored humanity in the present. In the verses from Colossians and Romans quoted above, there is the strong suggestion that one aspect of living this restored life is to take the needs of God’s creation seriously and work for its restoration in all its forms. Creation has been badly degraded by the actions of humanity and it is our responsibility to reverse that process – to begin the process of restoring creation in a specific time and at a specific place, that this restoration might then spread more widely, again through the stochastic evolutionary processes, so that the wider creation too might become fit for whatever future purposes God has for it.

A model for evangelism?

I wrote above that the scriptural big picture of creation / redemption / new creation is not often presented in traditional church teaching. However, I am struck how many of the younger generations are quite happy with such “big picture approaches”. Overarching narratives occur time and time again in fantasy fiction (many tracing back to Tolkien’s work of course) and many TV series will have a “series” arc that connects individual episodes. There is also an increasing environmental consciousness of the young, as has been evidenced by their approach to the recent COP talks and to other environmental issues.

Now Christianity has perhaps the greatest and most exciting narrative arc of all, and one in which care for our created world is of the utmost importance. If the argument I made above is accepted, then the physical and biological creations are of vital importance to God for his future purposes and need to be preserved and enhanced in all their amazing diversity. I would suggest that not really using these concepts in our apologetics, evangelism and overall mission is a quite significant omission. Properly presented, they could provide a way into the church for a wide sector of the currently unchurched society in which we live – with environmental concern and activism being used as a way to bring them to Christ, and thus to personal transformation and discipleship. Some would say of course that this is the wrong way round – and that personal transformation should come first, and then lead to service and mission. To counter this, I would simply argue that there are many ways of reaching the same end – and is the disciple who prioritises service to his community and world over his individual experience of God, eternally any less well off than those who experience an inner conversion and transformation that never fully finds its way into a life of discipleship and service?

Introduction

In late September 2021, I organised a celebratory event at St. Michael-on-Greenhill in Lichfield around Michaelmas – the church’s patronal festival – entitled “The angels keep their ancient places” – a title taken from the poem “In no strange land” by Francis Thompson, The main aim was to celebrate the restarting of face to face activities after lockdown, but also to let all who might listen know that the church was open for business once more. The programme for the week is given below, and that is followed by links to videos of a variety of events that took place during the week – the sermon at the opening service by Bishop Michael, the blessing of the John Louis Petit information board, and the five “angel themed” evening talks. Most events were held in a “hybrid” form – with a face-to-face congregation or audience, and others joining by Zoom – it was still at the time when many were nervous about being with a crowd of others. The whole Thompson’s poem “In no strange land” is given in full at the bottom of the page.

Further details can be found on the St Michael’s web site.

Programme for the week

Sunday September 26^th
8.00 Holy Communion (Book of Common Prayer)
10.00 Patronal service; the Bishop of Lichfield, Michael Ipgrave, preaching
1.30 Blessing of Petit display board by Bishop Michael
14.30 Guided tour of the church building

Monday September 27th         
20.00 Talk by Dr. Joanne Allen – Angels in art – five things you didn’t know about angels

Tuesday September 28^th1
10.00 School service for years 5 and 6
20.00 Talk by Dr. Trevor James – St. Michael. History and Theology

​Wednesday September 29th  
11.00 Holy Communion service for Michaelmas
20.00 Talk by Rev. Prof. Chris Baker – St Michael’s Angels – the 19th century clergy

Thursday September 30th       
20.00 Talk by Major Ted Green – The Angel of Mons (Spirituality and the Great War)

Friday October 1st                     
10.00 Guided Tour of the trees in the churchyard by Ray Allen
20.00 Talk by Rev. Dr Stephen Barton – Angels in Scripture

Saturday October 2nd              
10.00 The Angel Trail – an angel themed walk around the church and churchyard for families and children;
14.30 Guided tour of the churchyard by Trevor James,

Sunday October 3rd                    
8.00 Holy Communion (Book of Common Prayer);
10.00 Harvest Family Praise
18.00 Choral Evensong for Harvest

Recordings

“In no strange land” by Francis Thompson