Dreifaltigkeitssonntag (B) – 26. Mai 2024 (Silver Jubilee of Priesting II)

Predigt gehalten in der Alt-Katholischen Kirche Bottrop

Deuteronomium 4, 32-34, 39-40
Römerbrief 8, 14-17
Matthäus 28,16-20

Fünfundzwanzig Jahren: das ist wirklich eine lange Zeit. Gestern vor 25 Jahren, am 25. Mai 1999, damals der Dienstag nach Pfingsten wurden Adele Kelham und ich als Priesterinnen in der Providenzkirche in Heidelberg geweiht.

Unsere Priesterinnenweihe war eine durchaus ökumenische Angelegenheit: von Alt-Katholischer Seite waren Bischof Joachim Vobbe and Bernd Panizzi und ein anderer Priester aus Heildelberg, dessen Namen ich nicht mehr weiß, dabei.  Auch einige evangelischen Freunden und Freundinnen konnten kommen (die Providenzkirche ist ja eine evangelische Kirche). Sie war aber auch ein durchaus internationaler Gottesdienst: es kamen Gruppen aus Adeles Gemeinden in der Schweiz und aus meinen Gemeinden in den Niederlanden, wo ich damals Vikarin war, aus Deutschland, aus Großbritannien, aus Frankreich.

Bischof Joachim schenkte mir zur Weihe ein Alt-Katholisches Messbuch und sagte mir, ich sollte es verwenden.  Dies habe ich getan. Damals wohnte ich in Essen und war regelmäßig in der Alt-Katholischen Gemeinde dort, ab 2002 ihr sogar zugeteilt.  Im Sommer 2005 sind mein Mann, Robert Franke und ich nach Hanau gezogen, und ich wechselte nach Offenbach, zunächst mit Jürgen Wenge. Ende 2007 kamen wir nach Marl, und ich nach Bottrop.  Weihnachten 2007 war ich das erste Mal hier, und seit 2008 feiere ich regelmäßig hier in der Kreuzkampkapelle Gottesdienste mit. Das sind schon fast 17 Jahre, also zweidrittel meiner Amtszeit. Ich freue mich, hier in Bottrop eine deutsche Kirchenheimat gefunden zu haben.  Ich freue mich über die Beziehungen, die sich entwickelt haben, über die langjährigen Begegnungen und die Freundschaften, die daraus entstanden sind.

Und heute geht es um Beziehungen. Nicht nur, weil wir mein Jubiläum feiern, sondern auch weil heute Trinitatis ist, Dreifaltigkeitssonntag. Der Sonntag, an den wir über die Gottheit als Trinität, als dreieiniger Gott nachdenken.  Dabei geht es um Beziehungen. Der südafrikanischer Theologe Johannes P. Deetlefs hat vor ein paar Jahren einen Aufsatz mit dem Titel geschrieben, „Die Trinität predigen.“[1] Der Hauptgrund, warum man über die Trinität predigen sollte, schreibt er, ist, weil es bei der Trinitätslehre um Liebe geht. Es geht um die Liebe zwischen Vater und Sohn, die auch nach Augustinus Heiliger Geist heißt: „Der Vater ist der Liebende, der Sohn der Geliebte und der Geist die gegenseitige Liebe, die beide verbindet.“[2]  Es geht bei der Trinität eben um die Liebe, um die innige Beziehung zwischen Schöpfer, Erlöser und Erhalter der Welt. Die Trinität, die Gottheit, ist „eine Gemeinschaft von Personen, die in Liebe miteinander verbunden sind.“[3]

In dieser Liebesbeziehungen bliebt Gott nicht für sich, sondern schickt zunächst seinen Sohn, danach den Heiligen Geist in die Welt.  Gott ist nicht bei sich selbst geblieben, sondern tut etwas.  Gott schafft die Welt, erlöst die Menschheit, erhält die Welt.  Durch sein Tun als Vater, Sohn, Geist, baut Gott Beziehungen auf, bringt Menschen – bringt die Welt – in Beziehung zu Gott.  Trinität ist Gott in Beziehung, die andere – auch uns – in diese Beziehung miteinbezieht.  Deetlefs stellt deshalb fest:

Dass der dreieinige Gott Liebe ist, hat ethische Implikationen für die Menschheit, die in der Ebenbildlichkeit dieses dreieinigen Gottes geschaffen wurde (Gen 1,26–27). Weil Gott uns liebt, müssen wir einander lieben (1. Joh. 4,11.19). Weil wir als Gottesebenbild geschaffen werden, sind wir verpflichtet, wie Gott zu lieben und uns um die ganze Schöpfung zu bemühen.[4]

Wichtig ist die Beziehung.  Denn Gott will nicht unter sich bleiben, weshalb er als Sohn und als Geist in die Welt gekommen ist und immer noch zu uns kommt.  In seinem neusten Buch „Passions of the Soul“ – “Leidenschaften der Seele” – betont Rowan Williams, dass für unser Leben im Glauben am wichtigsten sei, „die Fähigkeit uns im tiefsten Inneren unseres Wesens Gott zuzuwenden.“ Nur dadurch können wir “sehen, lieben, einsaugen und uns von dem verwandeln lassen, was wahrlich wirklich ist – unserem dreifältigen Gott.[5]

Es geht darum zu erfahren, dass die Trinität, die Dreieinigkeit Gottes alles durchdringt, alles transformiert und verwandelt. Auch uns. Die englische Theologin Joyce Rupp spricht von Gott als Schöpfer, “der uns tagtäglich ins Leben liebt”.  Als Erlöser, „der uns tagtäglich in den Frieden liebkost”.  Als Erhalter der Welt, „der uns tagtäglich mit der Hoffnung begeistert.“ 

Und wir sollen auch nicht untereinander, für uns bleiben wollen. Deshalb werden auch wir dazu berufen, wie im Evangelium steht: gehet heraus (ich welcher Weise auf immer) gehet heraus und taufe auf den Namen des Vaters und des Sohnes und des Heiligen Geistes.  Das heißt: Bringt andere in diese Liebesbeziehung zu Gott, Trinität, Vater, Sohn und Geist, Schöpfer, Erlöser, Erhalter der Welt.

Der südamerikanischer Theologe Leonardo Boff sieht Trinitatis, den Dreineinigkeitsonntag als „das Fest der Erlösten.“ Er schreibt: „In einer trinitisierten Schöpfung … werden wir den Vater, den Sohn und den Heiligen Geist loben und lieben, und wir werden von ihnen geliebt, von ihnen gelobt.“[6] Wir werden eingeladen an dieser Liebesbeziehung teilzuhaben, und sie mit anderen zu teilen, für immer und für ewig. Amen


[1]   Johannes P. Deetlefs, “Preaching the Trinity today,“ Stellenbosch Theological Journal 6 (2020), S. 319–337.

[2]  Ibid., S. 326.

[3]  Ibid., S. 326.

[4]   Ibid., S. 327.

[5]   Rowan Williams, Passions of the Soul (London: Bloomsbury Continuum 2024), S. xx, xi.

[6]  Leonardo Boff, Trinity and Society (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 1983), S. 231. 

Tuesday after Pentecost – 21 May 2024 (Silver Jubilee of Priesting I)

Sermon preached at St Margaret’s Newlands

Wisdom 9.13-17
Romans 8.22-27
John 16.13-15

Twenty-five years:  that’s quite a landmark. I’m touched that you are here today and by the messages I’ve received from those who wanted to be here and couldn’t be (many of whom are at the Church of Scotland’s General Assembly). I’m grateful to be able to mark this anniversary with you on the Tuesday after Pentecost, which liturgically was the day when Adele Kelham and I were ordained priest in Heidelberg in 1999. My then bishop John Hind did not ordain women priest, although he had ordained me deacon the previous Pentecost. So Adele and I were ordained by Richard Llewellin in his capacity as Archbishop’s Commissary. It was quite funny afterwards when Church of England colleagues who were opposed to the ordination of women would tell me: “I was ordained by a flying bishop,” to which I would answer, “And so was I.”  So that’s a bit of Church of England history, related to the fact that I was a Church of England ordinand and ordained to serve in the Diocese in Europe. But I had trained in Scotland – Bishop Gregor was our chaplain at Coates Hall – and one of the real boons of coming to work in Glasgow was returning ot the Scottish Episcopal Church.  I’ve been back in Scotland now for over thirteen years, and attached to St Margaret’s for over twelve.  So that’s half my priestly ministry that I have spent with you here, albeit in a somewhat peripatetic style as I split my time between Glasgow and Germany and try to balance my academic work with my various church commitments.

We’re marking today as what the lectionary describes as a service dedicated to “The Guidance of the Holy Spirit.”  I’ve always loved the fact that I ended up being ordained at Pentecost: the ordination service itself is focused on the Holy Spirit and Pentecost is the time that we think about what it means to be people who are touched and guided by God’s Spirit. When I was working at Ripon College Cuddesdon before I came to Glasgow, I very much enjoyed the fact that the chapel was decorated with the words of Isaiah’s exhortation about the Spirit:

“The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him (or her), the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.” (Isaiah 11: 2)[1]

Our readings today in a sense offer an interpretation of what that might look like. Each of them in its own way encourages all of us to reflect on our own vocation and the way that the Spirit is calling us.

John’s gospel promises that when the Spirit of the truth – the Holy Spirt – comes, we will be guided into all truth.  The book of Wisdom gives us another take on the coming of the Spirit: “Who has learned your counsel, unless you have given wisdom and sent your holy spirit?” asks its author. Being guided into all truth, given God’s counsel, is not about intellectual knowledge, factual information, but about something much deeper.

In his recent book Passions of the Soul, Rowan Williams warns that “the qualities that get you Oxbridge scholarships have little to do with what gets you into heaven.”  Rather, what is important is “the capacity at the very centre of your being for turning Godwards. … for seeing, loving, absorbing, being transformed by what is supremely real – the life of God the Holy Trinity.”[2] I think this capacity to turn Godwards reflects something very important about what it means to be given wisdom and to receive the Holy Spirit.

Isaiah offers some further insights into what it might mean to receive God’s counsel and be guided into all truth:

He [that is, the one filled with the spirit] shall not judge by what his eyes see,
or decide by what his ears hear; but with righteousness he shall judge the poor,
and decide with equity for the meek of the earth. (Isaiah 11:3-4)

Truth, Isaiah reminds us, is related to justice and to equity. That means that what Rowan Williams calls “being transformed by what is supremely real – the life of God the Holy Trinity” is not only transformative for ourselves, but for how we see the world.  It’s not another thing that we do, but fundamental to how we orient our lives. As Rowan Williams puts it, “the life of the spirit cannot … ever be an area of concern, merely aa dimension of a wider life; it is the life of the believer, material and imaginative and desirous.”[3]

That’s quite a vision, and quite an aspiration. It may seem very daunting. I think it’s important to acknowledge that living a life inspired by the Spirit and oriented towards God doesn’t always come easily. I find myself deeply encouraged by Paul’s words to the Romans: “the Spirit come to us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought.”  Surely that’s a familiar feeling for many – even most – of us, but Paul encourages us to hope and to believe that that the Spirit intercedes and God searches our heart anyway. Fortunately we don’t need to be some kind of spiritual super-performer to receive the Spirit. God comes to us as we are, where we are.

To each of us.  In our vocation and ministry. I am grateful to you for being here to celebrate with me today, and I hope and pray that you too will feel the presence of the Spirit in your life.

Amen


[1]    In Latin: spiritus sapientiæ et intellectus, spiritus consilii et fortitudinis, spiritus scientiæ et pietatis.

[2]    Rowan Williams, Passions of the Soul (London: Bloomsbury Continuum 2024), pp. xx, xi.

[3]    Ibid., 82.

Pentecost (B) – 19 May 2024

sermon preached at St Michael & All Angels, Helensburgh

Acts 2:1-21
Romans 8.22-27
John 15: 26-27; 16: 4b-15

Happy Pentecost! 

It is odd that we don’t wish each other happy Pentecost.  There have been no Pentecost cards in the shops; no chocolate Pentecost flames or doves.  And yet today is a day which is as important as Christmas and Easter: the coming of the Spirit into the world, the gift that in many ways constitutes the Church.  We remember and celebrate the day that the Spirit comes down on the disciples as they were left uncertain after the Ascension.  “A sound like a rushing wind that filled the house where they were staying.” 

It is not gentle, the coming of the Spirit, not a whisper but a rushing wind, a fire.  Like the wind that buffets you as you walk along the shore in a gale (which I did one Pentecost, just a few days after I had been ordained deacon), or the fire that tears through a forest.  This is an energetic intervention, a potentially disturbing and destructive intervention, and yet it fills the disciples with joy, sends them out to do things they did not know they could do.

One of the first aspects of this story is so familiar to us that we may miss the fact that it is quite astonishing. The disciples communicate with the people from many lands, from many backgrounds.  “We hear,” the account in Acts tells us, “each in our own native language.”

What is going on here? 

Elizabeth Kimball writes:

This narrative is often (and erroneously) interpreted to suggest that the “miracle”—typically
symbolized in art as tongues of fire—was that the listeners were in an instant given the supernatural ability to understand the Aramaic-speaking disciples.[1]

But, Kimball think this is to get the miracle the wrong way round. Rather, she says:

The miracle, according to a close reading of the text, is that the disciples were given
the instant ability to speak the many different languages around
them—languages that they perhaps had never even heard.[2]

Kimball’s interest is pedagogical, as she explains:

The miracle was not that God gave the world the ability to understand
the teachers. The miracle was that God gave the teachers the instant ability to understand the “languages”—that is to say, the life-worlds of the learners.[3]

The disciples were able to speak to those around them in a language that they understood.

Imagine:  a group of people who all speak different languages, but who understand each other. John Bell tells a powerful story reminding us of the importance of speaking and being spoken to in our own language:

One Friday evening in Iona Abbey, the service ended with the congregation being
invited to bless each other in these words, commonly called the Grace:

The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ,
and the love of God
and the Fellowship of the Holy Spirit
be with us all evermore. Amen.

It was suggested that the words might first be said in their native tongue by people
whose mother tongue was not English, and at the conclusion we would all share the words
in [English]. There were people working in the abbey who came from Hispanic and African nations,
visitors from France, Germany and the Netherlands, and at least one Gelic speaker. So the lovely litany began, with everyone saying Amen after whoever had said the words in his or her own language.[4]

One of those speakers was Tomas, a refugee from the then Czechoslovakia, who had then been serving in the Church of Scotland for several years. For Tomas, saying the grace in Czech had been both moving and highly significant. It was the first time in five years that he had prayed publicly in his mother tongue.[5]

There is someting really important here for us as the chruch: how do we speak to others in eways that they understand? But there is also something important here about how God comes to us where we are and speaks to us in ways which we understand. Eric Barreto writes:

God meets us in the messiness of different languages and does not ask us to speak God’s
language. Instead, God chooses to speak our many languages. God does not speak in a
divine language beyond our comprehension. At Pentecost, God speaks in Aramaic and Greek
and other ancient languages. Today, God continues to speak in Spanish,
Greek, Hindi, and Chinese alike.[6]

And English and Scots, in all its different accents. And Gaelic. And Czech.  Pentecost reminds us that God speaks to us in ways that are suitable for us, in our own language, our own place, our own context. There is a theological term for this : accommodation. God accommodates God’s self to our needs and our abilities. The incarnation – and the coming of hte Holy Spirit – are part of that coommodation, part of the way that God speaks to us in ways that we can hear.

Pentecost also reminds us that God does not speak only to us – to our language group, to our nation, to our church, our denomination.  The crowd at Pentecost who heard each in their own language surely becomes the “great multitude that no one could count, from all nations and tribes, peoples and languages” described in the book of Revelation (7:9) gathered around the throne of the Lamb. All those nations and tribes, peoples and languages hear the good news the gospel in their own language, each in their own context.  The account of the languages at Pentecost is a powerful reminder of the radical inclusivity of the gospel. As Rowan Williams writes

life in the spirit is life beyond the boundaries erected between ourselves and each other and
between ourselves and God (even, it is tempting to add, between ourselves and ourselves,
since the divine spirit, we are told, draws out of us what we did not know
we desired [Rom 8:26]).”[7]

And this is also a challenge to us also: not only to welcome those other groups, but to become involved in that open proclamation. In that sense Pentecost is also a call to us to proclaim the gospel to those around us in a language – in terms – that they understand.

God speaks to us in our language, where we are, but ultimately the good news that we hear calls us out of that individual situation, calls us to transcend our own language.  Pentecost reminds us that God speaks to us where we are, in ways that we understand, but it also reminds us that “the human capability of learning another language is what makes new and enriching encounters between cultures and ways of thinking possible.”[8] 

This kind of encounter – the encounter in which we begin to speak and hear each other’s languages – is vitally important in our world which despite globalisation is increasingly individualistic.  They are vital as we hear the incomprehensible news of the ongoing wars in Gaza and in Ukraine and in Yemen and so many other places of the world, which seem to be so much about privileging the identity and perceived need of one group or party above the identity and needs of others.  Pentecost is about hearing and speaking an language of hope, a language that enables the good news to be heard in those places too. 

The South African theologian John de Gruchy writes that in Pentecost all people are drawn into God’s action, called to dream God’s dream.  Inspired by God’s Spirit of freedom and truth, those who are oppressed or hurting are able to look beyond the traps of their own situation, see the vision of the “new heaven and the new earth”, dream of something better – and not only dream, but are strengthened to face persecution and to be led by the Spirit to turn their living nightmare into a lived dream, “which is no-one’s nightmare because it promises hope and life in a new way for all.”[9] 

This is the language of the Spirit – a language which all hear, as and where they are, but which draws us out of our individual places, together, to learn to speak each other’s languages and to make a difference to the world.  Happy Pentecost!

Amen


[1]   Elisabeth M. Kimball, „Pentecost Pedagogy: Religious

Educators Speaking Many Languages of Hope,“ Religious Education 111 (2016), 250-255, at 251.

[2]   Ibid.

[3]   Ibid.

[4]  John L. Bell, Living with the Psalms (London: SPCK 2020), 81.

[5]  Ibid., 82.

[6]  See http://odysseynetworks.org/news/onscripture-the-bible-acts-2-1-21-page-2.

[7]  Rowan Williams, Passions of the Soul (London: Bloomsbury Continuum 2024), 82.

[8]   Charlotte Methuen, “From all nations and languages:  Reflections on Church, Catholicity and Culture,” in: Mark D. Chapman (ed.), The Anglican Covenant: Unity and Diversity in the Anglican Communion (Mowbray: London 2008), 123-142, at p. XX.

[9]  Lion Christian Meditation Collection, p. 273.

Easter 6 (B) – 5 May 2024

Sermon preached at St Margaret’s Newlands

Acts 10.44-48
1 John 5.1-6
John 15.9-17

“Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”

In these weeks that lead us from Easter to Pentecost, Sunday by Sunday we have a series of readings from the book of Acts. It is a book which offers a lot of insights into how the earliest Christians started to form themselves into a community and a movement.  Today’s short reading highlights the importance of baptism. In it, Peter recognises a close link between baptism and the reception of the Holy Spirit. 

This passage is the culmination of Peter’s wrestling with the question of whether or not those who are not Jews can become Christians without taking on the Jewish law.  Cornelius, who was a Roman citizen, probably Greek speaking, and certainly not a Jew, had asked Peter to proclaim the gospel to him and his household, and Peter had not been sure what to do.  He was granted a vision which encouraged him to do what Cornelius had asked. Peter told Cornelius, “‘You yourselves know that it is unlawful for a Jew to associate with or to visit a Gentile; but God has shown me that I should not call anyone profane or unclean. So when I was sent for, I came.” What Peter witnessed in Cornelius and his household was a movement of the Holy Spirit that leads him to conclude that they and all those who had gathered there to hear Peter preach should be baptized. And that leads us to those words we’ve just heard: “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”

Acts tells the story of the time after Pentecost, when the gift of the Holy Spirit had been given to the disciples. The author of Acts, whom we otherwise know as Luke, recognises that the gift of the gospel is not for an insider group but – at least potentially – for everyone. Two weeks today, we will celebrate the festival Pentecost ourselves, affirming the gift of the Holy Spirit, which is often seen as the birth of the church. Peter’s words in Acts invite us to reflect on the inclusivity of the community of those who have received the Holy Spirit, and to ponder too how that inclusivity should be mirrored in the community of those who have received baptism.  This is not an exclusive group: The story of Peter and Cornelius reminds us of the radical inclusivity of the Holy Spirit and therefore of God’s love.  Paul will write to the Galatians: “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28). The church can and should include anyone. And as Peter recognises, baptism offers a means of affirming and including all whom the Holy Spirit has touched.

Baptism is the fundamental marker of our life in Christ.  I wonder how much we think of ourselves as people who have been baptized?  One of Luther’s complaints early in the Reformation was that “now there are scarcely any who call to mind their own baptism, and still fewer who glory in it.”[1]  I sometimes think that not much has changed in this respect: some years ago I was running a weekend on living your baptism, and as we gathered people kept asking me “Is this about our children’s baptism?” They were disconcerted when I said: “No, it is about your own baptism, about you as a baptized person, about your ministry as a baptized person.” Reflecting on baptism Timothy Radcliffe writes: “Whatever form our Christian life takes, the pledge of baptism should surely turn it upside down, or at least shake it about a bit.”[2] Baptism, “invites us to have the courage to become entangled with God and be led beyond all that we know.”[3]  Our lives as the baptized people of God should be a lives transformed by the Holy Spirit who calls us and accompanies us.

So how do we live out our baptism? How do we respond to the call of the Holy Spirit?  The Convocation of (American) Episcopal Churches in Europe has a programme called the Commission on the Ministry of the Baptized, which is charged with helping everyone to explore the ministry to which they are called. As its flyer reminds us: “the vast majority of ministries in the life of the Church and in the world are those of the laity. Taking care of your family, looking after people in your workplace, reaching out to people in need — all are ministries that we are called to.”[4] This is hopefully part of what you are thinking about as part of the stewardship campaign: how is God calling you to use the gifts the Holy Spirit has imparted to you? That is, how is God calling you to live out your baptism?

This is not only about our own relationship with God, or about our role in the church, but also about the proclamation of the gospel in the world. Our other readings today remind us that the fundamental gift of the Holy Spirit is love.  Love of God, which spills over into love of neighbour. Love of neighbour, which spills over into love of God. They are intimately entwined. Becoming entangled with God means being drawn into God’s radical love for the world. As the church, we are the community of those whom God loves, and that calls us in turn to love others.  Christ calls us to be “not servants but friends,” as he says to the disciples in today’s gospel, but again this is friendship with a wider perspective: “You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.”  What fruit do we bear?

Reflecting on the readings for this Sunday, David Lose focused on that theme of God’s love. “Just preach the Gospel,” he exhorted. “The good news that God chose us. That God loves us. That God plans to use us to make this world God loves a better place.”[5] Lose recognises that God’s love can be hard to recognise, especially as we look at the dark places of the world and hear the depressing news. Lose sees God’s love as encouragement, and as strength: 

“Not that God’s choosing us is a panacea, as if none of the difficulties of this life matter. Rather, knowing that God has chosen us, loves us, and will use us gives us the courage to face the challenges and renews our strength to do something about them. Ultimately, we cannot fix, let alone redeem, this world. That’s why that’s God’s work. But knowing that God has promised to do so can provide us with the strength and energy to work to make the little corner of the world we live in a better place.”[6] 

There are important resonances here with the questions asked of the candidates and sponsors at the beginning of the SEC 2006 baptism service:

“Will you proclaim the good news by word and deed, serving Christ in all people?
Will you work for justice and peace, honouring God in all Creation?”

Baptism involves a commitment to participate in God’s mission, which is another way of talking about God’s love for the world.

This is not just about growing the church, although such lived-out love is an important marker of who we are as the Church. Rather it’s about recognising the love of God and the gifts of the Spirit even in those places where we might not expect to see them (as Peter had to with Cornelius) and about articulating the love of God in places which seem to have been abandoned to their fate. The Faith and Order Commission of the World Council of Churches is currently thinking about how baptism unites (or divides) us, and it is important to me in that discussion to recognise baptism as a response to the radical movement of the Holy Spirit, as we’ve seen in our reading from Acts. It’s also important too to recognise the call that this entails for each of us. At the World Council of Churches Assembly in Karlsruhe in 2022, I was part of the group that worked on finalising the unity statement. A key theme of the statement was what it called “ecumenism of the heart”.

“Ecumenism of the heart,” that statement said, recognises a sense of shared Christian identity rooted in and inspired by the love of God.  “The love of Christ … moves us to walk together, compels us to pray together, and urges us to respond to Christ’s invitation to be of one spirit and one mind.”[7]  And it calls us to live out that love together in explicit practical ways: “The practice of love that turns a stranger into a neighbour and a neighbour into a sister or brother calls us to make space for one another, to be patient, kind, humble, generous, and truthful with one another.”[8]  That is a call to us as individuals and as congregations as well as to us as churches.  And it is in and through our baptism that we are tasked by God with this living out of love.

And so let us close with a prayer that ended the Unity Statement, which seems to me to encapsulate the call to us all in baptism:

Where your people are broken, may love mend.
When hatred shouts in the world,
let love bring peace with justice.
As creation groans, may redemption come to all the earth.
Come with your divine love, and enter our hearts.
Move your church, and move the world
to reconciliation and unity. Amen.


[1]    Martin Luther, The Babylonian Captivity of the Church, Luther’s Works, vol. 36: Word and Sacrament II (Philadelphia: Fortress Press 1959), 58.

[2]    Timothy Radcliffe, Take the Plunge: Living Baptism and Confirmation (Bloomsbury: London 2012), p. 151.

[3]    Ibid.

[4]    „The Baptismal Covenant: ‚I will, with God’s help‘ Your call to Ministry in God’s Church,“ online at: https://8468b3ef30f2e10280bd-2259648c08869db4c2b896b90f294d17.ssl.cf2.rackcdn.com/uploaded/i/0e2698031_1386256912_i-will-with-gods-help-your-call-to-ministry-in-gods-church.pdf

[5]    See https://www.davidlose.net/2015/05/easter-6-b-on-being-chosen/.

[6]    Ibid.

[7]    WCC Assembly 2022, Unity Statement, paragraph 18.

[8]    Ibid., paragraph 24.