There are various milestones in ministry that are etched on the minds of clergy. Our ordination service, the first service in a new appointment, the first wedding, and, for me, my first funeral.
I had done the training, I knew all the theory, I even knew what type of frock to wear. The funeral was difficult as it was a friend of mine who had died, and his parents were devastated. They were deeply upset and found it very difficult to cope with the service. My difficulties were compounded, however, by my lack of preparation.
For those of you who don't know, on the lectern in a crematorium there is usually a button. This button either closes the curtains around the catafalque or drops it down. I knew that during the prayer of committal I had to press the button. I knew that curtains would close and that this would be an emotional moment. What I didn't know was that there would be three buttons on the lectern. Not one, but three. And, to make matters worse, they weren't labelled. I did what all good clergy do, I ignored the problem hoping for divine inspriration, I made the service go on a bit longer with some judicious ad libbing until the attendant realised the problem and mouthed across the crowded chapel to press the bottom button. He told me off later clearly thinking that idiots were now being ordained - but I didn't know - as no one had told me!
It strikes me that my disastrous first funeral was a metaphor for much that is wrong with the Church. We assume that people know how to behave and what to believe and what the faith is all about - but they don't know. The background knowledge about Christianity gleaned from RE lessons at schools or from Songs of Praise is not enough!
No One Told Me!
One of the things I hear a lot is this phrase "no one told me". Those words echoed like the constantly repeated chorus of some modern worship songs, one person after another coming to me with the same complaint.
Are we failing in our evangelistic responsibilities? Well, yes, we probably were, but that wasn't the problem here.
It was simply the fact that people within the churches I have served and in the wider denomination were failing to communicate properly, too many pursuing their own agendas without any reference to others. A committee organized an event to take place on such and such a day, only to discover that another committee had organized their own event for the same date. 'No one told me!' came the outraged cry. Perhaps a church member was unwell or had cause for celebration, but the grapevine had become snarled up so that only half the church came to hear about it. "Why wasn't I kept informed? No one told me!' Perhaps someone had the temerity to undertake some duty without first seeking approval, and in the process metaphorically trod on someone's toes. 'Who said they could do that? No one told me!' Or perhaps a meeting had to be cancelled at short notice or its venue changed, but somehow the message didn't get round. 'What's going on? No one told me!'
To be fair, the problem of communication is one that bedevils not just the Church but almost every organization you might care to mention; particularly voluntary organisations. Wherever people get together, you have a recipe for discord and misunderstanding. It is a simple and inescapable fact that wires sometimes become crossed and communication breaks down. What one regards as vital news another considers a trivial snippet of information, and so fails to share it. What I may believe everyone has a right to know, you may feel, for reasons of discretion, shouldn't be publicized, and so once again it isn't passed on. More likely still, we simply forget to tell people what's happening, fully intending to do so only for it to slip our mind.
Another factor, however, probably exceeds all the others put together: the assumption that someone else will pass it on. 'It will get round,' we tell ourselves, 'no need for me to bother.' Imagine if Philip had said that when he spotted the Ethiopian eunuch travelling back to Gaza on the road from Jerusalem. Clearly here was a man searching for truth, thirsty for spiritual fulfilment, but was it up to Philip to respond to that need? He could well have argued that someone else was bound to tell him of Christ, or that it was only a matter of time before such eager searching of the scriptures brought its own enlightenment, but, of course, he didn't do either of those. For Philip, here was a God-given chance to make known the good news, and he grasped it with both hands. Perhaps the eunuch would have heard of Christ elsewhere, but Philip wasn't prepared to leave it to chance. As far as he was concerned, it was down to him. Jesus was relying on him to share his faith, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity.
The result was an encounter that was to change the Ethiopian's life. One moment the prophet's words were a mystery, and the next they were wonderfully alive. One moment the eunuch was confused, the next he found enlightenment. One moment he was searching vainly for truth, and the next he was in no doubt he had found it.
It is surely no accident that the passage he was reading included the words 'How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of the messenger who announces peace, who brings good news, who announces salvation' (Isaiah 52:7a, NRSV). Could such words be applied to us? Have we been the bringer of good news?
Have we passed on the gospel, making the most of the openings that come our way? Will anyone come to faith because we had the courage to speak of Christ?
We are those entrusted with good news, news that we are told to pass on, not by me or the Church but by Christ himself: 'You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth' (Acts 1:8, NRSV). All of us, no doubt, will pay lip service to that challenge, but do we ever act upon it? I'm not suggesting for a moment we should constantly be spouting religion or forever preaching the gospel - to do that would almost certainly hinder rather than further the cause of Christ - but when a golden opportunity presents itself, when we see someone hungry to find out more, are we ready to reach out and share our faith? Don't assume that someone else will do it. Don't promise to do your bit next time, when you're less busy, more confident, better equipped to meet the challenge.
God asks you and me to tell the news, to share what Christ has done for us, and if we fail in that responsibility, one day we may the hear the words 'No one told me', and know to our shame that we are us much to blame as any.
Amen
This sermon was first preached in the Metropolitan Community Church of Manchester. Click here for further information.