In November 2014, Paul Bayes, the then new Bishop of Liverpool,
delivered this inaugural sermon which became the basis for - and first chapter
of - his new book, The
Table …
So there’s this table.
It’s a simple table but
it’s well made, because it was made by a carpenter. The guy who made it is a
poor man, but he’s generous. He offers a place at the table to anyone who wants
to sit and eat. This is a table that started in one place but now it can
stretch down every street, and it can go into every home, if people want to sit
there.
It’s a table for
meeting. It’s a table for talking around. It’s a table for laughing. Most of
all it’s a table for eating. It’s a level table. Maybe it’s not a round table.
Maybe it’s a square table, so that people can look directly at one another as
they sit there. Can look each other in the eye as they sit there, beside the
poor man who made it.
But it’s not a high
table. You don’t have to qualify to sit there. It’s for anyone. And the poor
man sits there, and wherever people sit, he sits beside them. You can sit there
too, with the poor man, and look across the table, at people you like and at
people you don’t like, at people who agree with you and at people who disagree
with you.
Sometimes it’s a table
for thumping. Sometimes it’s a table for signing treaties and for making peace.
Always the poor man sits beside you.
Yes, most of all it’s a
table for eating. You can’t eat alone at this table. You can’t buy a meal at
this table. You can’t buy a ticket to sit here. Anyone can sit here. It’s a
table like a table at a wedding. You sit with guests you never knew, and you
find out about them, and they become your friends. And the table is spread with
a beautiful fair white linen cloth and if you come here, like any pilgrim
coming into a new house, they will clothe you in the most beautiful clothes and
they will make you welcome.
And
if you eat the food served here you will never be hungry again. Because the
poor man offers the food at this table. And the poor man will serve you, and
the poor man’s hands are wounded when he serves you, because the food came at a
price, and he paid the price.
The poor man’s name is
Jesus, who though he was rich, yet for our sakes he became poor so that through
his poverty we might become rich. And if you sit at his table he will feed you
and he will ask you to feed others; he will serve you and he will ask you to
serve others; he will love you and he will ask you to love others.
I’m a churchwarden’s
son and a cradle Christian, and I threw it all away in the late 1960s and early
70s to go my own way. And I was brought back to Christ through the ministry of
student evangelists, and a radical Christian group, and a large suburban
charismatic church, and a small inner-city Anglo-Catholic church, and a cathedral
which was always open, and two professors of theology. One day if you ask me
I’ll tell you the full story. But using all those places and people, Jesus led
me back to his table, and he leads me back still. As our sister Tracey says in her words at the back
of our Cathedral church, so I can say to the poor man, Jesus; ‘I felt you and I
knew you loved me’. So I did sit and eat and for fifty-three years off and on I
have known him and he has never done me any harm. And for me he will be the
first and the last word always.
My brother Malcolm and my
brother Phil read
this earlier; prophecies about Jesus:
‘I will put my Spirit
upon him, and he will proclaim justice to the Gentiles.’
And then:
‘He will not wrangle or
cry aloud until he brings justice to victory. And in his name the peoples will
hope.’
And all this, the table
and the poor man and justice brought to victory, all this is my vision of the
church of Jesus Christ. A mixed group of ordinary people with the most
extraordinary gift to share. And because the gift is so marvellous, that’s why
I want the church to grow. Not so that we can have a bigger church, but so that
we can make a bigger difference. So that the poor man’s table may be laid in
every street. I want every church to grow.
The church does not grow
so that it can survive. It is not our survival that matters. The church matters
because Jesus matters, he who wants everyone’s company, he who built the church
on a rock, he who wants the table to be laid in every street.
The growth of the Church
is a good in itself. We share the news about Jesus Christ so that people can
come to know Him, and knowing Him is very good. So because I want people to
hear the name of Jesus I want the Church to grow, because the poor Christ wants
their company. That’s why I’m committed to our mixed economy of parish churches
and fresh expressions of the church, a people who can bring from their
storehouse both the new and the old, so that all might know Jesus, the poor
carpenter and the beautiful shepherd who is so ancient and so new.
Now is a good time for
all this. The Church of England used to be in a spiritually dangerous place: we
were cushioned by privilege, we were in the middle of our society and at the
top. Now, in this England, we’re on the edge and underneath - marginalised, not
always taken seriously, sometimes mocked. That’s good news for us. Because on
the edge and underneath is where the people are.
Pope Francis says: ‘An
evangelising community gets involved by word and deed in people’s daily lives; it
bridges distances, it is willing to abase itself if necessary, and it embraces
human life, touching the suffering flesh of Christ in others.’ The Bishop
of Rome’s vision is my vision for the church among the churches, for all the
churches, as we gather again on the edge.
From the edge we give
our gift, the knowledge of Jesus. Oh, that all people might know Him, and the
power of His resurrection. Man and woman, rich and poor, gay and straight,
black and white, conservative and progressive, believer and unbeliever, Jesus
longs for our company. And his welcome is absolute.
The growth of the
Church is a good in itself. But then those who sit at the poor man’s table are
called to follow their host. Jesus, who proclaimed justice, and who brought
justice to victory.
In
this region (Liverpool and Merseyside) we know about justice. It does not come
without a struggle. It can take a long time. It demands patience, and the
utmost truthfulness. We have the example of the Hillsborough families, of their quiet perseverance and their patient
and courageous refusal to be distracted or to despair.
And it is a matter of
great pride to me that I walk in the footsteps of Bishop James who sought to
serve those families and the memory of the ninety-six, and who in this
Cathedral church presented a little of that story of truth. And I honour Bishop
James, and Bishop David before him,
and all those with them who sat at the poor man’s table and who seek justice
for the downtrodden. I am borne up by their memory.
And I stand here now as
part of the poor man’s community of justice. A bishop is always in the midst of
a people, that’s why I asked our Synod to accompany me up the hill from the
centre of the city to the Cathedral today. I do not arrive on my own. I stand
in the midst of the poor man’s people and we are a people of justice, and from
every community and every church we know those who care for the hungry and the
needy and who speak for them and who lift their heads, and in the midst of you
I commit myself to support you and to pray for you and to do what I can to be
with you in that struggle.
Because this too is my
vision of the church - a group of people who know Jesus and who proclaim
justice. Because it is Jesus, we will not turn away from justice. Because it is
Jesus, we will not wrangle or cry aloud or break the broken or ignore those who
struggle. When I was involved as an activist in the peace movement of the 80s
and 90s we had a saying, ‘there is no way to peace - peace is the way’. Peace,
and telling the truth.
In that spirit we in
the church are called to approach our own troubles and disagreements. I do not
seek a pure church if the price of a pure church is that our sisters and
brothers are excluded, if the price of a pure church is a smaller table. The
growth of the Church is a good in itself, so long as the poor Christ sits
beside each one of us at His table and teaches us to love.
And I promise you - we
will be there for you, for all, to walk and work with you in the way of peace,
to spread the table of love, until our God brings justice to victory. And in
the poor man’s name the peoples will hope.
Jesus, may your name be
first and last in all we say and do; and draw us to your Father in the power of
the Spirit. Bring justice to victory. We ask this in your name, Jesus.
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