Last month I reflected on two experiences that highlighted for me the need to engage further in the question of ‘Englishness’ and how we as a country, going through deep self-examination, may be led to a place of redemption and hope. I used the phrase ‘prophetic imagination’. This phrase was coined by Walter Brueggemann and, using Old Testament and other ancient stories, outlines a means by which creative resistance to cultural narratives can lead to liberation and hope of all peoples: oppressed and oppressors.
Over the last two weeks I have found myself preaching on different parts of the Major Prophets (Isaiah and Jeremiah). Some of these passages are, what I might identify as, ‘Zionist texts’. These passages from the great Old Testament prophetic tradition are those that paint a vision of the ingathering of the people of Israel to Zion. With the current reprisal of the long and intractable conflict in the Holy Land these particular passages have taken on a painful and darker tone. They are, however, meant to be visions of hope and of redemption. The majority of Isaiah is a litany of abominations against God’s will and these latter chapters, pivoting in chapter 53, portray the wrongs being righted in God’s gracious economy and an image of God’s reign on Earth being manifested.
The very fact that passages that are meant to inspire hope and open the possibility for change are now seen as passages encouraging oppression and division says something about the spiritual undercurrents at work here. These preaching opportunities have given to me reason, therefore, again to try and inspire a prophetic imagination that currently is dormant in our country; politically, spiritually, and socially.
The first preaching occasion was at a civic service, celebrating the Lord of Mayor’s year in office. The original readings for the evening were Deuteronomy 9:1-21 and Ephesians 4:1-16. My colleague and I didn’t feel as though these would speak to the congregation gathered, many of whom were not Christian and some were from other faiths. We looked at the alternative weekday lectionary and it prescribed Jeremiah 31:10-17 and Revelation 7:9-17. We felt these worked better with the Psalm (112).
Wealth and riches will be in their house,
and their righteousness endures for ever.
Light shines in the darkness for the upright;
gracious and full of compassion are the righteous. (Psalm 112:3-4)
The Lord Mayor’s office rightly raised a question about the Bible passages and wanted reassurance that it would not cause offence or distract from the purpose of the service. My task was set!
I began by talking about my impression of the role of Lord Mayor and how the current councillor in this role has held it in particular. I commented on the uniqueness of this year in which he had served; a visit from the King, a coronation, and then, for over half of his term, the Middle East crisis felt particularly strongly here in Bradford. The ceremonial role, like that of a representative of the Cathedral church, brings with it a strange expectation to ‘say something’ at events. These events often do not warrant any input from us who are, in my mind, inappropriately ‘billed’ alongside more impressive and important individuals. What then do we say when asked to speak?
I moved onto the Jeremiah passage. I named the use of this passage for the Zionist cause who have continually quoted this as a basis for division and their vision of exclusive claims on the land and territory of Mount Zion. The prophetic literature, however, does not, collectively, share that vision. Isaiah, similarly has passages which describes the future return of the people of Israel to the land promised to them, but the vision does not stop there. The imagery extends out further to encompass all peoples and particularly foreigners, widows and orphans.
If we place this passage, I said, with the imagery of the revelation/prophecy of John we see this echoed.
After this I looked, and there was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, robed in white, with palm branches in their hands… Then he said to me, ‘These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb. (Revelation 7:9 and 14b)
What we are lacking in Bradford and, indeed, in the wider culture is a voice that speaks with genuine hope. Hope that gives a vivid picture of the possibility of change. So overwhelmed and captive to the spirit of cynicism, skepticism and apocalyptic paranoia and conspiracy that we cannot bear any possibility of optimism. We are fearful of dreaming because we have been disappointed too much or we have been fed a diet of positivistic lies which have stripped us of substance and trust. We have been collectively abused and traumatised not just from external malignant agents, real and imagined, but also by ourselves. The reason that the public events Lord Mayors tend to be invited to request them to ‘say a few words’ is that people long to have their lives validated and made concrete in the words of symbols of our collective identity.
Despite the prophet Jeremiah painting a positive image of restoration they are deeply rooted in the reality of lament and grief.
Thus says the Lord:
A voice is heard in Ramah,
lamentation and bitter weeping.
Rachel is weeping for her children;
she refuses to be comforted for her children,
because they are no more.
Thus says the Lord:
Keep your voice from weeping,
and your eyes from tears;
for there is a reward for your work, says the Lord:
they shall come back from the land of the enemy;
there is hope for your future. (Jeremiah 31:15-17)
Even the Revelation passage has an acknowledgement of grief. This is what is needed in Bradford and in our wider culture: an uncompromising grasp of the real grief, fear and a confident enacting of lament. This should not be the lament which perpetuates the violence of the system we are all trapped in; it is a lament of surrender and sacrifice. This is the path to the richer, more solid, more real hope depicted in the prophetic literature of the Bible.
The second sermon on this theme was a Sunday morning where I was called to preach on Acts 8:26-40. At the heart of this passage is a bible study on Isaiah 53:7-8. I had outlined that persecution and violence had scattered the Early Church and Philip had found himself amongst foreigners (Samaritans) and his evangelistic ministry had seen many new converts from that area. The Spirit of God drives him back to his home; a place of trauma and pain (interestingly the road between Jerusalem and Gaza) and he finds there an Ethiopian who longed to be part of the Jewish faith but, due to him being a eunuch he would not have been able to to perform all the necessary rituals to be a full proselyte, i.e. circumcision. He is reading the prophet Isaiah and he would have read about Ethiopia being paid as a ransom for Israel (Isaiah 43:3); his people being exchanged for this people who will never treat him with full dignity.
Isaiah is unflinching on the many abominable acts of disobedience that had caused the wrath of God to be poured out upon them scattering them into exile. Despite glimpses of hope, comfort and restoration nothing is fully expressed until the later chapters (54 onwards). Chapter 53, the passage this Ethiopian eunuch is reading, is the pivot. It is the three-dimensional description of the Messiah who will enact the change and usher in the Kingdom and rule of God, not through the means of man but the paths of peace. To quote Óscar Romero, he only enacts a ‘violence of love’. After this chapter the eunuch will hear of the extending vision beyond Israel to all nations, including eunuchs.
For thus says the Lord:
To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,
who choose the things that please me
and hold fast my covenant,
I will give, in my house and within my walls,
a monument and a name
better than sons and daughters;
I will give them an everlasting name
that shall not be cut off. (Isaiah 56:4-5)
For the eunuch to be known as part of God’s family he thought he needed circumcision and baptism. The first had been denied him as a eunuch. The second would not have been considered or if it was it was not complete. In the new vision of God’s Kingdom led by a suffering servant, it was enough and he leaves rejoicing. Another white robed child standing in the great multitude of the intercultural Kingdom of God.
Finally, that same day in the evening, I preached on Isaiah 60:1-14 and Revelation 3:1-13. I repeated my set up that I had done as part of the Lord Mayor’s service and briefly brought in the story of the Ethiopian eunuch and essentially called out for us to awaken our imagination to fight the overwhelming temptation and addiction to cynicism and skepticism. That despite thick darkness covering the earth we must see that God’s light will shine upon us not to divide us off from others but so that all might be drawn to us and thus into that saving light.
Bradford, City of Culture 2025,
Lift up your eyes and look around;
they all gather together, they come to you;
your sons shall come from far away,
and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses’ arms.
Then you shall see and be radiant;
your heart shall thrill and rejoice,
because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you,
the wealth of the nations shall come to you.
A multitude of camels shall cover you,
the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
all those from Sheba shall come.
They shall bring gold and frankincense,
and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord…
For the coastlands shall wait for me,
the ships of Tarshish first,
to bring your children from far away,
their silver and gold with them,
for the name of the Lord your God,
and for the Holy One of Israel,
because he has glorified you.
Foreigners shall build up your walls,
and their kings shall minister to you;
for in my wrath I struck you down,
but in my favour I have had mercy on you.
Your gates shall always be open;
day and night they shall not be shut,
so that nations shall bring you their wealth,
with their kings led in procession. (Isaiah 60:4-6, 9-11)
This vision, however, is not an easy salve to pour on to make all things well. This vision is hard won. It is a vision that is rooted in the uncompromising experience of real exile, grief and trauma. It is a vision that accepts that what will draw them is not innate but given by grace. The light will shine upon us if we turn to face it, to look at it and acknowledge it. This is the action that I feel will be the prophetic pivot needed in Bradford and the wider culture: honest acknowledgement of pain we have experienced and pain that we have inflicted. To not flinch at our realities and not settle for the same easily reached conclusions and solutions. To neither remain silent when well meaning tropes are forced upon us when we don’t fully understand or agree with them nor to violently shout counterarguments and seek to undermine those who are foreign to us.
If we can use 2025 to commit to each other the posture of humility and curiosity then we may begin to find that we live lives of hospitality, rootedness, innovation and interculturality… which happen to be the values of Bradford Cathedral. Funny that.
