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Sunday 25 November - Christ The King Choral Eucharist Preacher: The Rev. Peter Gomes, Plummer Professor of Christian Morals & Pusey Minister in The Memorial Church, Harvard University, USA Jeremiah 23.1–6, Colossians 1.11–20, Luke 23.33–43 May the words of my mouth and the thoughts of all our hearts, be found acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our Redeemer. Amen. The first thing that the preacher sees in this pulpit is a terrifying notice that says 'Emergency Evacuation Notice'. I do not intend to give it, as I am going nowhere and I hope, neither are you – at least for the next few moments. What brings me to you today, in addition to the hospitable invitation of your Dean, whose friendship I cherish over long years? I think what brings me to you today is the happy association we enjoy together because of John Harvard. My guess is by the end of this year, you will be thoroughly sick of John Harvard. We are beginning to feel a little that way in Cambridge and I have every reason to believe that here, in the mother country and in his mother church, there may be a sense of Harvard fatigue beginning to settle upon us. I hope, however, that it is not too quickly that such a sense settles upon us. I would thrill to be with you on Thursday as you celebrate gloriously the four hundredth anniversary of his baptism, bringing together the choir of his old college, Emmanuel and the choir of what was his parish church, this Cathedral church, to sing Evensong and to commemorate his name, his ministry and his life. He is for us graduates of Harvard College, the first benefactor of our University. He is not, as the statue says, our founder. We were founded by a lesser company of people the Great and General Court of the Colony of the Massachusetts Bay. We were founded by a bunch of politicians – ambitious politicians but politicians nevertheless. John Harvard enters the picture as a generous, thoughtful benefactor and it was his gift of books and money that begat a great university. His gifts are the gifts that continue to give, and those of my fellow graduates who are present in this Cathedral this morning, are living testimony to the vitality of John Harvard's gift, we can never be too grateful for being his heirs in this world. The other day I had the great pleasure of speaking under the auspices of the Borough Council and one of the councillors noted this, which I think an interesting fact. Southwark in the time of John Harvard was a fetid place, filled with foul odours and very bad behaviour; there must have been a great deal of work for the clergy of this parish to be engaged in. Foul, fiendish odours, the plague, all sorts of dreadful things – anybody in his or her right mind with the means to do so, would have fled and someone pointed out that as John Harvard arrived in the bracing, salubrious climes of the New World, taking in the clean air of the Atlantic Ocean, he died! Perhaps there is something to be said for fetid air and bad behaviour: he didn't last very long. But I suppose we should be grateful for the fact that he lasted long enough to do a grateful and generous thing. The College had been barely established in law, hardly settled in the little town of New Town when in a final act of generosity, on his deathbed, he bequeathed to the not yet born College, all of his books and half of his money. And half of his money was considerable – this was not some mere tithe or some small bit of disposable income, this was a goodly sum, acquired from real estate held here in Southwark. One might argue that the habits of the wicked sustained the vision of the virtuous and that is not a bad principle to keep in mind in this fallen world of ours. He gave his books, he gave his money and the Colony gave his name to that small college, which ever since has borne it proudly 'Harvard College' and we, its graduates bear that name splendidly throughout all the world. That name never reckons more closely to our hearts than here in this very place where four hundred years ago this coming Thursday, the boy Harvard was baptised and made a Christian. And nearly ever since, there have been strong ties of kinship and affection between this place and ours. In our place, you are always welcome by virtue of being parishioners of this Cathedral church. And we have always felt welcomed here because of the care and attention you have given to this relationship and because of the Harvard Chapel and the other tokens of affection and esteem which you have sustained over long years. Just a few weeks ago, your Dean was present with us and preached well on the subject of John Harvard and together with the Master of Emmanuel College, presented to us a splendid tablet to John Harvard's memory which we were pleased to receive and are delighted to display forever in the University Church. That tangible connection is one thing – and a very good thing – but there is the spiritual connection, the fellowship, the ties that bind us all together. Thus I am here not merely as a continuous part of that process but particularly to thank you for the care and the nurture you have given this association. For your Christian care for John Harvard, for bringing him into the fellowship of Jesus Christ and for your friendship to generations of us, who from time to time have found ourselves pilgrims and strangers in this country of yours and you have shown us hospitality, not particularly because you like us, or even know us, but because you cherish John Harvard – who he was, what he did, and where it all began, right here in this place. When you come to Evensong on Thursday, as I trust you all will, I hope you will remember the gratitude of one member of Harvard's family across the water; it gives us joy to be one with you in this great enterprise. He was baptised on November 29th 1607. Apparently, that is the official entry in the registers which are in your custody. We don't know when he was born however; it could be a few days or many days before that. This very day could, in fact, be the birthday of John Harvard and who is there who can say it is not? I say it is! Therefore, today we celebrate the birth of John Harvard. It is happy speculation. Wiser and greater people have speculated on more than this, so I accept this as the great opportunity. Now what do we know about John Harvard? Not a great deal. We know about his mother and father, we know something of his brothers but he himself remains a splendidly enigmatic figure. There is no proper likeness. Oh somebody will say: "Oh he is pictured in the windows of the Chapel of Emmanuel College in Cambridge." I hasten to tell you that is not John Harvard, that is an anonymous body clad in Puritan black with the head of John Milton, the prophet. He is a good pilgrim and a good Puritan but he is not John Harvard. And when you come to Cambridge you will be certain to say: "Aha, there he sits on a splendid statue in front of University Hall; that must be John Harvard. That is not John Harvard, that is an undergraduate who caught the fancy of Daniel Chester French, Harvard would be fortunate if he looked so splendid. Whoever that boy is, that too is not John Harvard. And so we must leave the image of John Harvard to our imagination. I have used this as a device on many occasions; sometimes it works, sometimes it offends people. I said: "Can you imagine John Harvard as Japanese, can you imagine John Harvard as a woman? Can you imagine John Harvard looking like me? Who is to say otherwise? How splendid for us to have so plastic an eponym. It is a good thing indeed. We don't know much, the images are inadequate but something of him lives on forever among us. We do know one thing which is beyond dispute. He was a Puritan and that means he never would have been allowed within three feet of this pulpit; he never would have been the privilege that is mine today, to preach to you. Your predecessors were very paranoid about Puritans and were quite pleased to see as many of them as possible flee to the vast, empty reaches of the New World. I am almost certain that the Lord Bishop of Winchester, within whose diocese this church sat, had he known who John Harvard was, would have bid him a fond farewell – and all the likes of him. "Send them to New England, send them to Massachusetts", the Siberia of its day. But the great irony is, here we are! Here we are, and we cherish this moment. I wore my Protestant hat this morning to remind you that what John Harvard represented still is represented in me and my predecessors and my successors. I think had John Harvard been the preacher today – in fact, I know what he would have done, he would have taken his text from the lessons that have been provided for us and you know what he would have done with them, he would have taken that marvellous passage from Jeremiah: 'Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter the sheep of my pasture, says the Lord'. He would have known who those bad shepherds were. He would have named them and I am delighted that the Bishop of Southwark is not here this morning for I am sure he is a very nice man but he is descended from very wicked men and John Harvard would have understood that, and his sermon would have been far more interesting than mine for that very reason. We know that he would not have been allowed to preach here, that the authorities of this parish church would have found him too much to deal with. But the fact of the matter is that we commemorate him, not only in this wonderful chapel back here and not only by the service that you will hold on Thursday, but by the friendships which have bound our two foundations together and indeed have enriched our common civilization. We are a better world for the fact that John Harvard and his lot were in it. And we owe the best of John Harvard to the best of the place in which he was brought up. We owe you and your predecessors, everything and we are thrilled to acknowledge that debt today. Now in the liturgical calendar by which you move in the Church of England, today is the feast of Christ The King; it is the last Sunday of the year – next Sunday being Advent Sunday and it is the Sunday in which the old Collect for the day began: 'Stir up, we beseech thee, the hearts of thy faithful people'. Some of you may think that that has something to do with the making of Christmas pudding. The making of Christmas pudding has everything to do with the Collect for the last Sunday of the year. But the chief emphasis on this Sunday is to remind people, both of their rich inheritance and of what remains to be done. You began perhaps last Advent Sunday with great hopes, great expectations and great promises and most of you have failed miserably to keep any of them. This last Sunday is a chance to remind you of what you wanted to do, what you could do and what remains for you to do. The last Sunday of the year gives us one more chance to consider the great work of reconciliation which is ours. And that is the point brought out In Paul's letter to the Colossians where he says: 'All things are reconciled in Christ; things on earth, or in Heaven.' This is the moment of reconciliation where you and I meet together, reconciled as one in Christ, in a way that our ancestors never could have, and never would have. That is an important fact to remember. For John Harvard and your predecessors lived in remarkably different worlds, and today we are a part of the reconciliation of those remarkably different worlds. You and I are in fact that reconciliation which Christ who is head above all, provides. Christ is indeed the King the Sovereign, under whom all come together. He behaves as King, as we saw in the gospel lesson where he is able to promise Paradise to the thief. Here he sits on the cross crucified, condemned and dying and yet he exercises the sovereign grace which is his alone to promise Paradise to the penitent thief. We remember that, we celebrate that – as indeed would have the most thoughtful and imaginative of the Puritans. Now it is true that a Puritan preacher today would have taken a rather sharpish view of everything that the Anglican Church represented in his day and perhaps even in our day. You would not get off quite as easily as you will today were there a proper Puritan standing in this pulpit! But today we celebrate that which brings us together, rather than that which divides and separates. We are not the righteous ones, and if righteousness were to be the measure by which any of us would stand, none of us would. But in Jeremiah we have read that the Lord is our righteousness, that is his name and it is that righteousness of God, that sovereignty of God, that we celebrate together as one fellowship, one communion in this remarkable place. I hope it pleases you to realise that a small outpost of your great adventure and hope is located in the middle of one of the world's great universities – Harvard University. I hope it pleases you to realise that the name of Southwark is upheld with affection, appreciation and regard in our place. Just as it pleases us to know that when the casual visitor, or the purposeful pilgrim wanders into this church, sooner or later there will be discovered the living link of John Harvard. He was by no means a saint, I suspect were Mrs Harvard here, she could tell us a great deal about his human qualities. He was after all, merely a man and a Puritan man at that! But nevertheless, one man, and one man's generous act has made it possible for people as diverse and as different as were are, to celebrate on two continents, his baptism, his life, his ambition and his work. Here is a man who died before his time (don't we all die before our time?). He was barely 30 years old; he had not achieved by the standards of his day or our day, distinction, glory or wonder in the world, he was just one more Puritan divine, of whom from the point of view of some, the world already had far too many. And yet it was this one Puritan divine by his act of imagination as well as generosity, provided for all of us today. I emphasise the word 'imagination' in his giving, for the institution to which he gave his money had not yet come into existence, he had never seen it, no member of the development office had come to call on him, there had been no testing of his loyalty or his interest. I remember when I first went up to Cambridge, to Emmanuel, a Senior Fellow, in an unfriendly moment of candour said to me over the port: "Why should we celebrate John Harvard, he didn't give us anything?" It's true. I suppose if he were to be ultimately loyal, he'd have given something to poor old Emmanuel College, that little nursery of piety in Cambridge. Rather than give them a cent, he gave it all to us, which is why we are very grateful! I can understand the certain sense of displaced charity on their part but they have had centuries of benefactors and benefactions and as I said, perhaps unwisely to the Senior Fellow: "He has given you the greatest thing you can possibly imagine, whoever would have heard of Emmanuel College, were it not for John Harvard?" That perhaps was not the wisest thing to say under the circumstances, but it is still true! And so when we think of an act of the imagination, of celebrating the things that are not yet, and providing for a future which we shall not yet see, we are reminded as nothing else can remind us, of the imagination of God and the sovereignty of Christ the King. Think of that thief on the cross, it was that thief on the cross who said to his fellow: "Hang On", as it were, "when you come into your Kingdom, find a place in it for me". I think that thief deserves a great deal of credit, not just for imagination but for faith and Jesus promised him, he says: "Today, now, immediately you will come into Paradise with me". That is the exercise of sovereignty but it is also the promise of a future that will be greater than the past. If there is anything worth remembering about John Harvard, it is his confidence in the future, a confidence which led him to invest the most precious things that he had: his money, his books his life and ultimately his name. He invested in what he had not yet seen and was committed to the goodness of that which is to come. One of the tragedies of the times in which we live is that we seem to be more afraid of the future than we are confident in it. We seem to be anxious about that which is to come and do not seem to believe we have a claim upon that future. I'd like to suggest that we are very much in the spirit – or ought to be – in the spirit of the opening prayer this morning where we are referred to as a pilgrim people. People were not entirely sure of where they are going to end up or where they're going, or even the way by which they are to make their way toward that place, but who are willing to take the journey. That was John Harvard's great, risky investment in leaving the security of Southwark for the New World. That is the journey these young people on the front pews are about to take as they are admitted into the Holy Communion and into fellowship of the world which they have not yet seen and which they can only imagine. And that is the journey each of us takes as we remember that the kingdom to which we belong is unshakeable and therefore not to be confused with any of these earthly or worldly states or establishments. I should like us all to think in the spirit of John Harvard that our best days and our best years are in fact, ahead of us, that it's easy to say to the young, but it's all the more important to say to the rest of us who may think we have fewer days ahead of us than we have already expended (and there are a few of you here as I look out on this congregation who might be able to join in the sentiment than there's less ahead for you than is past). The amazing thing, the audacious thing, about our faith is that we are convinced that there are better days ahead and our very best days are indeed ahead of us. 'Like pilgrims sailing through the night in search of shores more wide and free, a dauntless few they went apart in search of wider liberty'. That nineteenth century Victorian hymn was an attempt to explain something of the imagination, the wonder and the venture of John Harvard and his contemporaries. 'Pilgrims sailing through the night', not altogether sure what is out there in the wilderness before them but moved, motivated, inspired as pilgrims have always been, to move in that direction and what are they looking for, that dauntless few? They're looking for a wider liberty, a greater freedom in which to exercise their Godly gifts, they are attempting to build a world, not one that has once upon a time, been with us, but one which has never yet existed. We are not in the business of trying to re-create something, we remain in the business of trying to create something for the first time that will endure and thus the gospel for us is exactly the same as it would have been for John Harvard and for your predecessors in this parish church. Better days are ahead and we are pilgrims who seek those days and will do all we can with all that we have to build them. It takes a certain amount of courage and even more imagination to do that. This, then, is who we are today: pilgrims sailing through the night, not entirely clear what's going on out there but it is clear that we must be moving, we must be doing and we must be going. And it is true what we must be doing, which is to seek a wider liberty, although the Puritans described it as 'soul liberty' – a kind of freedom from within which generates freedom from without. We look back in order that we might see more clearly what is ahead. So I hope you will not be worn out entirely by your celebrations of John Harvard, I can assure you that you will be worn out thoroughly if the only direction in which you are looking is backward; that is fatiguing and very hard work and does not require a great deal of imagination. But if in looking backward, you are enabled to look ahead, to look forward, to be among those pilgrims sailing through the night, only the sovereign God knows what is ahead of us, what great adventures of spirit and mind we may find and by that great adventure, our souls, our bodies, our hearts and minds, our imagination, will be fired-up and generations to come will have reason to look at us and say: "These were not backward people, these were forward people" and for that, we will have cause to say: Thanks be to God. Amen. |
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