Martyrdom and Lambeth

 Martyrdom is not a very popular term in the contemporary world. It seems to sum up all that we have come to oppose in a secularised society – extremism, intolerance, sectarianism. In the popular mind, martyrdom is something that Christians don’t really bother with much nowadays. The tabloid press would have us believe that martyrdom is the preserve only of Islam and would have us all dismiss out of hand the very concept, so often with a simple wave of the hand and more than a dash of Islamophobia and generalised racial division. And yet we gather today on a great Apostle’s feast – the feast of our co-patron James – for whom martyrdom is amongst the only things we know about him. In fact, he is the only Apostle whose martyrdom is explicitly described in the New Testament – called amongst the first disciples, and among the first to die for the faith.

 

James, the son of Zebedee, for whom his mother – according to Saint Matthew – demands a special place in heaven, although St Mark doesn’t let James off the hook quite so easily, and puts those words in James’s mouth instead. James, a flawed man and flawed disciple, who despite living alongside the Lord and being in his inner circle, still appears to miss the point – still appears not to understand what it’s all about. And yet the same James – impetuous and demanding – who himself through his death honours the Lord he loved and in so doing becomes a seed of the church.

 

So whilst it’s fashionable to think we’re all a bit too sophisticated and modern in twenty-first century south London to get too engrossed in the idea of martyrdom, we must take it seriously if we are to take the Gospel we proclaim seriously too. And we must remember too that around the world, this is no abstract discussion for a sunny Sunday morning’s reflection – it is a lived reality. Around the world, today – in each and every continent – people suffer and sometimes die for their faith. The world of martyrdom may no longer feel close to us here, but for some this is a daily, lived reality. 

 

It's for this reason that the divisive and nonsensical arguments about ‘persecution of Christians’, so often made by fundamentalist and self-proclaimed traditionalists in this country, are so obscene. We hear far too often of such persecution, which boils down to people being unable to preach hate on street corners or to peddle whatever conspiracy theory they have happened upon this week. These stories of pseudopersecution get plenty of press coverage – usually at the church’s expense, to show how out of touch Christians are – but the stories of genuine persecution, of Nigerian Christians being murdered in their beds or north African Christians slaughtered during divine service, barely get a mention. My friends, there is true persecution of Christians – and indeed, of people of all faiths – around the world, and we must pray for them. And let us not be taken in by the deceit of those who seek to sow division in the name of persecution, and in doing so dishonour the lives, suffering and deaths of those who are killed for love of Jesus Christ and His church.

 

Sometimes, indeed, the role of persecution is not as simple as it first seems. This week, the Lambeth Conference gets under way in Canterbury. There has been a great deal of controversy already by the Archbishop of Canterbury’s decision – foolish and damaging, in the opinion of many commentators – to use the conference to once again condemn homosexual relationships. Yet beyond the justified anger and the smoke and fury, the importance of standing alongside Christians around the world, sharing their suffering and pain, and rejoicing with them too, remains. The Lambeth Conference should be an opportunity to showcase Christian love and solidarity, and instead runs the risk of becoming yet another unnecessary battleground. We shall see how it all turns out, but building unity on the shattered lives of God’s beloved is self-evidently not the way to witness to the Gospel. Our fellowship – our communion – with other Anglican churches must surely be possible without constantly pandering to threats of schism from purple shirts and pointy hats. It would be rather good if some of our own serving bishops might stand up – just once – and say so, too. Serving the God of love is easier, it seems, in some situations than others.

 

The problem is, it is very easy for Christians to co-opt the faith to their own ends, rather than to serve the God we call Lord, Lord. Whether consciously or unconsciously, we often choose the things we will die for – metaphorically – and ignore the rest. We choose what defines us as a Christian, often compiled into a simplistic list of what we have decided is truly orthodox, rather than trusting in God to do that for us. We thus create our own faith, rather than witnessing to the Gospel of Christ. And in doing so, we make others martyrs – we try to cast them out of the church, we crush their spirits, and sometimes we destroy them. It is a crying shame that even the church itself inadvertently makes martyrs of its own members. Yet the life and the light of the Gospel continues to shine through in these very witnesses.

 

James, asking for a place at the right hand of Jesus in glory, was similarly oriented all wrong – he saw the glory as the prize, and turned his face away from the journey, hard, long, and difficult, to get there. It is, in many ways, a great irony, then, that the relics of St James are found in Santiago de Compostela, the end of many a long pilgrimage journey. James, too, was called a ‘son of thunder’, an aggressive zealot who wouldn’t miss a fight. Yet James’s martyrdom turns everything upside down.

 

Martyrdom, of course, is not simply about dying for the faith, although that remains at the heart of its meaning. Martyrdom is about witness – about a life, and often suffering and death, that witnesses to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and that is a visible sign – sacramental, even – of the reality at the heart of the Gospel. And James was such a witness – called to Jesus’s inner circle, a witness to the raising of Jairus’s daughter, to the transfiguration, to Jesus’s own agony and suffering in the garden. James – impetuous, foolish even – and yet James, sat not at the right hand in glory but sitting with the Lord in Gethsemane as he sweats blood before His crucifixion. 

 

It is this radical reorientation that we so often see associated with the lives and deaths of the martyrs of God. Living as a witness – and dying as a martyr – is not about some great act of glory. It is about refusing to deny the love of God. It is about refusing to harm others even when they wish you evil. It is about having the courage – and if not the courage then the simple trust in God – to put God at the centre of your life and not yourself. It is about following, and living, the Gospel of Christ in love.

 

And such witnesses to the faith are not hard to find in the modern world. Indeed, they are often found in the strangest places or the most unlikely locations. The life of witness to the Gospel is rarely exciting enough to make the papers or glamorous enough to attract attention. Yet the life of witness – the life of service of others and service of God – is the lifeblood of the church. And this life of martyrdom – this life of witness – is the life to which all Christians are called.

 

When martyrs were buried in the early Christian centuries, altars were built over their bodies – their blood in the soil beneath the table at which the sacrifice of the mass was offered. Their witness – in life, and in death – was celebrated and commemorated as building up the fabric of the church, of the very body of Christ here on earth.

 

My friends, this is your life. This is what it means to be a Christian. This is what lies at the heart of the paradox of the life of the Gospel – where the yoke is easy and the burden is light, and yet the cross is there to be carried. You – we – are called to be visible witnesses of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. We are called to be awkward – to refuse to bow to earthly powers – and called to demand peace with justice. We are called to live the resurrection life. Where it will take us, we don’t know. What the journey will look like, we don’t know. But what we do know is that, whoever is against us, if we cling to Jesus, then He is alongside us and welcomes us all into His Kingdom where we shall truly witness the glory and love of God.

 

Amen.