|
It’s the end of an era – nearly; the era which has spanned the
millennium – the Tony Blair era. You can tell it’s nearly over
because he’s attacked the Press, who have of course hit back: locked
in a mutually dependent relationship of exploitation and spin. Although
it’s perhaps not the wisest thing for him to do when he’ll be
going on to a celebrity career which will more than ever be dependent
on the oxygen of publicity. The best revenge the media could have would
be to totally ignore him – which of course they won’t be able
to do. And so we will continue.
But eras do come and go. We remember the 25th anniversary this week of
the conclusion of the Falklands campaign, and the price paid by many ordinary
servicemen on both sides for the decisions of politicians and generals:
the days of the Galtieri and Thatcher eras, now gone into history.
And now here in Bradford it’s the beginning of the Owens era –
strictly time-limited, of course: a new Lord Mayor, unrepeatable special
offer, here for this year only, before being promoted to that great notice
board in City Hall and put out to grass. It’s good to see so many
former Lord Mayors proving that grass can be a positive experience….
No wonder the Hebrew Bible often uses the image of grass and flowers to
describe the passing nature of human achievement: it’s all over so
quickly. The first reading was about the responses the ancient Jews had
after being taken to captivity in Babylon, in modern Iraq. In the reading
there are two voices speaking to each other, two voices in debate.
One voice is in despair, and says that ‘All people are grass, like
the flower of the field; the grass withers, the flower fades when the
breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.’ In
other words, some of the exiles were saying: we’re doomed to disappear,
to wither and die away from home like the flowers of the morning. Look
today at Sean’s flowers from the Council nurseries – they’re
beautiful now, but after a week or so they’ll be gone. That’s
what we’re like – we have our little time and then we’re
nothing. We come, we go, and there’s no future for us.
But that despair is answered by another voice: ‘The grass withers,
the flower fades; but the word of our God will stand for ever.’ Other
Jewish people had hope for the future of their nation: and that hope was
rooted, not in their own beauty, skills or achievements – which will
wither and die – but in the love and life of God which takes what
little they can do and builds it into something which will endure.
It’s lovely to welcome the new Lord Mayor and Lady Mayoress here,
looking so splendid, together with mayors from this and other local authorities
– beautifully clad like the flowers of the field indeed: but only
annuals I fear, however hardy they may appear. There are hardier perennials
here among council officers and politicians: but all alike will one day
wither away or be uprooted by electoral storms or redundancy or changes
in public policy.
We could become cynical as many people do and see politics as something
that doesn’t matter and isn’t important. But as the ancient
Jews realised, our transience and impermanence isn’t the last word
on what we do. Our era may be short, but what we do will last if it has
eternal significance – if it’s not just about something for
us, about us making a name for ourselves, but rather is about what truly
matters in the service of God and those in need.
In the second reading we heard a story from the beginning of the ministry
of Jesus, when he was becoming famous and lots of people were coming to
see him for help, such a big crowd that no one could get near to the house
where he was. Along come these four people carrying a paralysed man on
a stretcher and they can’t get in to see him and ask for help –
so they do the obvious thing: they climb up the outside stairs onto the
roof and make a big hole in it so they can lower the man down. Imagine
the repair bill if all the people queuing outside council offices took
the roof option, not to mention the health and safety implications of
dismantling a roof with bits of it dropping onto the people inside…
And after all that hard work and risk, they get this paralysed man in
front of Jesus so that he can heal him, and they hear him say – ‘Son,
your sins are forgiven.’ There’s a big intake of breath, because
that’s not what Jesus is supposed to say – he’s supposed
to make him walk again. Which is what Jesus goes on to do: but walking
comes second. Why? because healing the body doesn’t last. However
many times you add plant food and change the water, cut flowers will wither
and fade and die (although adding Viagra to the water will double their
lifespan – wives ask your husbands for some of theirs!). So it is
with bodies – they don’t last for ever, however often you try
to mend them. Real healing is about mending what’s wrong on the inside,
because that will endure when the outside has withered and crumbled away.
It’s the end of an era and the beginning of another: not only in
local and national political life, but in the life of Bradford itself:
the birth of a new city indeed, with much-needed regeneration. But changing
the outside alone isn’t enough. Even buildings will crumble and fall
– look at Forster Square. Yes we need jobs and homes and facilities:
but if we don’t see what truly matters, if we live for our own benefit
and at the expense of others, if we neglect the values of compassion and
care and community - then our heralded new city will not have much of
a future.
Lord Mayor, for this year only, you have the opportunity to lead us as
a city, to help us see what truly matters in our life together: in your
era, our era, may God give you grace to help us all to use our time and
our gifts wisely in the service of God and those in need.
‘The grass withers, the flower fades; but the word of our God will
stand for ever.’
|