OT Reading: Joshua 14.6-14
NT Reading: Matthew 12.1-21
Text: I desire mercy and not sacrifice (Matt 12.7)
Tonight’s reading from Matthew’s gospel challenges us to think about how we use our Sunday. What did Jesus do on the Sabbath? What did He consider important?
We know from Luke’s gospel that it was Jesus’ custom to go to the synagogue on the Sabbath day, and he evidently played his part in worship, as any adult Jewish male might do, standing up to read from the scriptures and sitting down to comment on what he had read (Luke 4.16-28). We know too that spending time in His Father’s house – be it the grand temple in Jerusalem or the modest synagogue in Nazareth – was something to which he had attached importance from a young age. When he became separated from his parents on a visit to Jerusalem at the age of 12, it was in the temple that they found him, expressing mild surprise that they should have been looking for him anywhere else.
So we know that Jesus set aside time for worship once a week, just as we do, and we may reasonably presume that he attached importance to reflecting on the scriptures as a window into the mind of God, because that was central to what went on in a synagogue then, as it still is to-day. But this evening’s reading suggests that he sat lightly to some of the more detailed rules surrounding the observance of the Sabbath. The Sabbath was a day of rest. It was forbidden under the law to work on the Sabbath. Fair enough as a general rule, but as we saw in tonight’s reading he was not going to stop his disciples plucking ears of corn on the Sabbath and eating the grain when they were hungry, still less would he refuse to heal someone who needed his help. He respected the purpose of the Sabbath rest, but He did not allow petty rules, however well-intentioned, to get in the way of the true object of Sabbath observance, which was – and still is – to make space in our lives for the rest and relaxation which we all need, and to make priority within that space to finding the time to draw near to God in the prayer and worship of his gathered people. That’s what really matters. That’s what enables us to keep our lives in balance for the whole week, and week by week for the whole span of our lives.
In the Church of England the Parish Eucharist has become firmly established over the past fifty years or so as the main Sunday service, because doing together what Jesus commanded us to do in his memory is always going to be more powerful than anything which relies chiefly on the spoken word. Yet Evensong has a special place in our hearts too – we wouldn’t be here tonight if that were not so – and I want to explore now what makes it so special.
Above all else the service of evensong helps us to see our world through the prism of God’s word. The psalm, the canticles and the Bible readings all reflect our ancestors’ experience of what it means to encounter the living God. As we read these ancient texts we draw our own inspiration from the same deep source as they did. With them we stand in awe of the God who made us and loves us, with them our hearts overflow with adoration, praise and thanksgiving, with them we come to recognise our sins and to know the grace of forgiveness, we rage at injustice, we protest when God doesn’t seem to be paying attention. With them we bring every aspect of our human experience into the light of God’s presence, learning to see all life through the lens of His perception.
Tonight we were reminded of the courage and faith of Joshua and Caleb, who had seen the promised land through God’s eyes when they were sent to spy it out, and understood that God could make room for them to dwell there. In our New Testament reading Matthew drew together several stories contrasting Jesus’ attitude to the Sabbath with the rigid rules of the Pharisees, which had turned the blessing of the day of rest into a burden of fussy rules. As Jesus slips away in order to avoid further controversy at this stage in his ministry, Matthew comments that this low-profile approach is consistent with that of the Suffering Servant in the prophecies of Isaiah, who does not shout or throw his weight about, but nevertheless proclaims justice to the Gentiles, and brings justice to victory. Since the Scriptures are full of stories about what God has done, we continually find that our readings open our eyes to what he may be doing in the world to-day. The Guardian commented this week that Mr Kashoggi may have done more by his death to shake the autocratic rule of the House of Saud than any article he ever wrote. Where do you think that idea came from?
And then we have the psalms and the canticles. The psalms are particularly moving, the very human outpourings of men and women wrestling with life in all its raw reality, struggling to understand how and where God is at work. In tonight’s psalm, our bones were scattered before the pit like splinters of wood from an axe (v8). Yet in this terrible mess, with the psalmist our eyes ‘look unto thee, O Lord God : in Thee is my trust, O cast not out my soul’ (v9).
The canticles express a range of responses to our different moods – the Magnificat, joyful, confident, engaged, the song of a young woman with everything to live for; and then the Nunc Dimittis, expressing the faith and the serenity of an old man, whose deepest prayers have been answered, ready now to step into God’s nearer presence. What a wonderful balance of male and female, young and old, bravely engaged and gently ready to let go. On that broad spectrum of experience there is always something for each one of us.
And then, in this place, we have the added dimension of great music sung to a high professional standard, giving wings to our psalms and canticles and anthems. There is so much in our hearts that words cannot fully express. Sometimes we need to pause in silence, but at other times music can help to lift our praise to a higher level, or to give greater depth to our devotion. Moreover, as our hearts respond to the rich interplay of voices and instruments, we have both time and space to ponder the meaning of the words which are being sung. We are very fortunate to have the resources of the Hampstead Church Music Trust, as well as the gifts and the devotion of our professional team.
But I want to end where I began. Citing the prophet Hosea, Jesus reminds us that God desires mercy not sacrifice. We come here to immerse ourselves in God’s word, to see more clearly the direction in which we have to go, to draw strength in this house of praise and prayer for the challenges we shall face in the coming week. But our worship remains a hollow sham, if it does not cause us to draw nearer to God in the lives we lead, in deeds of mercy, acts of kindness and consideration to others – love indeed – all the actions which give expression to the sacrifice of praise and prayer in which we have joined.
I desire mercy and not sacrifice. Let us make that our watchword for the coming week.