Father’s Day is an invention of the American greetings card company ‘Hallmark’. Well at least that’s what many folk think. We do, however, have a Christian precedent for Father’s Day in the feast of St.Joseph the spouse of Mary which the Church keeps on the 19th March. Today, is not the 19th March and our readings on this second Sunday after Trinity do not specifically offer us a great deal of information on what it takes to be a father or for that matter a parent or care-giver.

The first reading at a stretch might have a ‘fatherly’ understanding where God says to the Israelites; ‘if you do all, I tell you, you will be my people and I will be your God.’ But I’m not too sure how the other readings might be stretched to give us an understanding of Father’s Day.

However, I say let’s claim this secular feast, this invention of a card company for the Church. We keep Mothering Sunday so why not Fathering Sunday? And like that fourth Sunday in Lent not as Father’s day but Fathering Sunday - there is a big difference in the meaning just like Mothering Sunday and Mother’s Day.

Father’s Day is a narrow, gender specific and person specific celebration and although there is little wrong with it, it does exclude those who are not fathers in the traditional sense of the word. People like me. But, if we can see today as a celebration of all that is good about the fathering process or rôle then, we can be more inclusive of our understanding of this day.

A good father, is someone who nurtures, cares for, hopes for and loves those committed to his care. When I became your Rector fourteen years ago on the 14th May, the then Bishop charged me with the ‘Cure of souls’ - not some mystical doctor role but one of caring for and loving all the people in this bit of the Diocese and God’s Kingdom called Murrayfield. He charged me to ‘Father’ and ‘Mother’ the flock here, with him and on his behalf. I am not a biological father but I am a father figure to my two step-sons and I also find myself acting as a father-figure or trusted older adult to some of my younger friends, for a whole variety of reasons.

Because of the roles I find myself taking on I am drawn to the example of St.Joseph, who was a dad to Jesus, head of a household, a spouse and someone who taught his child a trade. Fathering is much more than genetics. It is something that many of us engage in, often without realising that we are doing so. The whole basis of fathering is, however, rooted in the love and example of God’s love shown to us most especially in his Son Jesus. As Jesus showed us, God’s love:

• is unconditional

• it wants the best for each and everyone of us

• it encourages us to desire the best for others

• it ensures that we do unto others only that

  which we would want done unto our selves

• it teaches and guides us in all we do

These are good fathering and mothering qualities and characteristics that all Christians are called to adopt and develop in themselves and most especially to put into practice. These were some of the tings I learned from my own Father and those who have also been ‘father’ figures to me and I hope they are trains I have been able to pass on to those God has set me to care for.

I remember vividly, when youngest son knew he was to become a father, somewhat unexpectedly. In his tears he asked me how to be a father to a child when he felt he wasn’t ready to be so responsible. My reply to him was to do nothing but love his child. I told him that was what I had to learn quickly when I came into his and his brother’s lives. I had no idea how to be a ‘father’ but I guessed that if I could love the boys then that might be the best way forward. And love them I do, through the thick and think of their growing up and becoming fathers themselves. I see in them what I learned from my Dad, and they have hopefully learned from their father and from me.

Being a parent or finding oneself in that rôle is not an easy task but it can be one much blessed in many different ways.

So today let’s celebrate these ways of loving that God sets before us and calls us to practice. Let us celebrate fathering and give thanks for those who have been ‘father figures’ to us.

My name used to be Levi. Ironic, isn’t it. Levi, in Hebrew, means “joined”. I wasn’t joined to anyone – I was the most despised and hated person in Capernaum.

I lived and worked on a border – the border between the territory ruled by Philip the Tetrarch and the territory ruled by Herod Antipas. So I wasn’t just a tax collector, I was in Customs and Excise as well. And because of that I lived and worked on a different kind of border – the border between respectability and crime, and I crossed that border many times.

People had good reason to hate me. I was collecting taxes, some of which went to the Romans, the occupying power. I was a collaborator. I was the man to whom the local farmers had to take a tenth of all the grain they harvested, and a fifth of all the grapes and olives they picked. Then there was income tax – 1% when I was collecting it, which may strike you as minimal, but it was still a source of resentment. There was a poll tax which you paid just because you existed. If you moved, they taxed you – You had to pay if you want to drive your animals along a Roman road. And, of course, I was on the take – taking a cut for myself to increase my earnings. Well, after all, I was a skilled worker – I can read and write, and what’s more, I can read and write Greek, the language of commerce.

I was excluded from the synagogue. As a customs officer, I was seen as permanently unclean. A customs officer has to search people and their possessions, Jews and Gentiles alike. If I’d gone through all that purification ritual every time I frisked a Syrian or searched a Samaritan’s saddlebags I’d never have had time to do my job. So the leader of the local synagogue treated me as if I were a leper.

And then I began to hear stories about the teacher from Nazareth, and about the astonishing miracles that he was performing. About how he reached out to people who were outcasts – touching and healing lepers.

And then one day, there was a hubbub in the street, and the sound of a crowd approaching. I grabbed my money bag and got ready to run. It might be an angry mob. And then Jesus came in. When he came in, there was a gasp from the crowd. They couldn’t believe that he would make himself unclean by entering my office and talking to me.

Even some of his followers looked shocked – it took a while for those of them who had been fisherman to accept me – I’d taken a lot of money off them in the past. Then the crowd fell silent and into that silence Jesus dropped two words – “Follow me.”

The ripples from those words are still spreading out through my life, years later, and I shall never forget how they made me feel. A door had opened – not the door of my office, but a door in the wall of hatred and prejudice that cut me off from other people, and I was being invited to step through it.

And then I got a crash course in what following Jesus involves, for the very next person who asked his help was the leader of the synagogue, the man who for years had treated me like dirt. His little girl had died. He was hoping for a miracle. And on the way to his house, a different miracle happened. Jesus healed a local woman who had suffered from years and years of bleeding. All it took was for her to reach out and touch the fringe of his cloak. Which, by the way, rendered him unclean. Not that the leader of the synagogue made any fuss about that. He was just desperate for his daughter to be healed, and so she was.

Responding when Jesus said “Follow me” was easy. I was being offered love and acceptance for the first time in many years. What came later was difficult and challenging, but it was possible because the love and the acceptance were there, and they still are.  I now know that it was the love and acceptance of God that entered my office that day.

My name used to be Levi. When I chose to follow Jesus, I was given a new name. Now I’m Mattityahu, but you can call me Matthew. Mattityahu is Hebrew and it means “Gift of God”. And the amazing thing is that since Jesus began to call me by that name, no-one has seen any irony in that.

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God almighty!

Early in the morning our song shall rise to thee;

Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty!

God in three persons, blessed Trinity!

Trinity Sunday, a day in which we celebrate the three persons manifested by God, three ways of being the one and only God. When one says it or writes it, it seems quite simple but to many when we talk of the three persons in the God head they may assume we are talking about three gods and not One God.

I can remember when I was at Theological College having to write an essay on the doctrine of the Trinity; the more I thought about it the more I became convinced that a blank sheet of paper would say as much about the Trinity as I could possibly attempt to say in 2000 words. I’m still not convinced that that course of action would not have been better this morning.

On the face of it the Trinity seems to be perfectly straightforward; God is one God manifested as Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Each being in God is a separate whole and each being is God at the same time.

One God but three beings - simple! Or Not!
I remember trying to explain the Trinity to a Hindu friend at school. I did my best but I think we both ended up utterly befuddled. He had a wonderful understanding of a multitude of different gods exhibiting different aspects of godly behaviour but struggled with the idea of one God having different beings of himself. I got the idea of many different gods but did wonder how my God was able to exhibit three beings at the same time? I think we both decided that God and gods were mysteries and not ever meant to be fully understood or comprehended.

My thinking has moved on from my school days and I believe become more simple rather than complex. The more I have thought about the Trinity over the years of study, prayer and

experience I have come to understand it by thinking about it in very simple terms.

Here’s one:
I am a son, a brother, a partner, a granddad and an uncle, a priest but I am still only Dean; one human being but functioning in a myriad of different ways.

And here is another example:

Each of us is unique. There has never been another human being exactly like you or me and there will never be another you or me in quite the same way as we are. Yet each of us fit perfectly into the human race and into God’s creation. We form part of that creation and help complete the unity which God has designed. That unity would not exist without us and that unity will keep expanding to contain all of God’s creation until the end of time. Creation contains more beings than the Trinity but like the Trinity we are all needed in it to make it whole.

If we can think of the Trinity as a whole with different aspects to it; perhaps it becomes more easy to understand. God is the Creator, the Spirit and the Christ. These three beings hold together because they show us different faces of the one God and they hold together because of love.

Love is the glue that binds the Trinity, love is the thing that is expressed by the three beings of the Trinity in their different ways and love is what makes the Trinity immortal and everlasting, for love never dies. Love may change and grow, diminish or expand but it never dies. It is quite frankly the life energy of the universe and all creation and I think best describes what God actually is.

So to describe the Trinity as love means that if love is the whole, the unity; then the ways in which it is expressed show us different aspects of that unity, of that whole. God is the loving creator or parent - the Father. Jesus is the human face of God sent to love us, and the Spirit is the power and wisdom of love sent to change us and to draw us close. All different

aspects of the one love which is ultimately God.

We will never be able to fully explain the Trinity but if we try to keep it simple and look at it in terms of love, we might get a glimpse of what God is all about.

Holy, holy, holy! Lord God almighty!

All thy works shall praise thy name,

in earth and sky and sea; Holy, holy, holy! Merciful and mighty!

God in three persons, blessed Trinity!

Today’s readings seem to offer two very different accounts of the gift of the Holy Spirit – the moment in St John’s Gospel when Jesus breathes on his disciples and the dramatic experience of Pentecost, the rushing, mighty wind, the tongues of fire and the great outburst of energy and enthusiasm which impelled the disciples to go out and tell as many people as possible the good news of Jesus Christ.

Why two accounts? I don’t think that they are contradictory. A careful reading suggests that they are part of a process. They are also, I think complementary.

First the process. St John writes of a very quiet and private moment shared by Jesus and the disciples.  The emphasis is on forgiveness. The disciples are given a share of God’s energy so that they may be a community experiencing, sharing and offering forgiveness.

The second part of the process happened at Pentecost and turned into a very public occasion. Pentecost or Shavuot, fifty days after Passover, was one of the great Jewish pilgrimage festivals, a time to come to Jerusalem and visit the Temple. It was a harvest festival, a celebration of the first wheat harvest of the year, but also a celebration of God’s gift of the Torah – the first five books of the Hebrew Bible, including the laws which are the Jewish people’s response to God’s covenant. The dramatic descent of the Holy Spirit empowers the disciples to proclaim the good news of God’s love and forgiveness.

That process, that move from forgiveness into proclamation is every bit as important today as it was two thousand years ago. Our contemporary culture is very strong on proclamation, on the assertion of beliefs, ideas and prejudices, and much of that proclamation is completely devoid of forgiveness. Just spend five minutes scrolling through Twitter to see the truth of that. And that isn’t just a contemporary problem. There have been times in the history of the Church when the assertion of doctrine became separated from the imperatives of love and forgiveness, and terrible cruelties ensued. Our two accounts of the giving of the Holy Spirit are a powerful reminder of to fulfil our calling to proclaim the forgiving love of God we need to be a community of forgiveness and love..

So much for the process. What about the complementarity of the two accounts of the giving of the Holy Spirit? If, like me, you have never experienced anything as dramatic as the rushing mighty wind and the tongues of fire described in Acts you might be tempted to question whether the Holy Spirit is working through you unless you had also read that very different account in John’s Gospel. Given these two accounts there is something for all of us, whatever the nature of our religious experiences, whether they have been sudden and dramatic or a quiet and private experience which gradually unfolds and develops.

Today, in a happy circumstance, our celebration of Pentecost is also the celebration of a baptism. The birthday of the Church, as some have called Pentecost, is also the moment of welcoming a new member into the church, giving Lochlan a second birthday which I hope he will celebrate as he comes to understand its meanings. All babies and toddlers are bundles of wonderful potential and baptism adds important dimensions to that potential. Those dimensions are explained in today’s reading from First Corinthians in which St Paul lists the gifts of the Holy Spirit and emphasises that they are given for the common good.

It is such a familiar passage that you may not have noticed the surprising fact that one of the gifts of the Holy Spirit that Paul mentions is the gift of faith or belief. But surely, you ask, all Christians have faith, all Christians are believers? Well, yes but in different measure. Those who are strongest in faith are not necessarily the most active members of the Church but are as essential to its life as those whose contributions are more evident but who may, like most of us, experience doubt. The Church is a community of the gifted and the gifts are varied and vital.

Time will tell which gifts are bestowed on Lochlan but today he finds his place in the Church, that inclusive community which has received the loving forgiveness of God, which practises it and proclaims it to the world.

“For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body.”

Why do you stand looking up towards heaven? This Jesus, who has been taken up from you into heaven, will come in the same way as you saw him go into heaven (Acts 1: 11)

Where do we go from here? How often have we asked that question ourselves or been asked it by others over the years? There is a real honesty there.

In this year’s programme for the Edinburgh International Festival, its new Festival Director, Nicola Benedetti, writes “Even as a child, when asked about my biggest inspirations, I would never give the expected list of virtuoso violinists. For some reason, I aways found my way to figures who galvanised people around an idea, and whose tie to hope was so strong, they made the unthinkable happen”.

She goes on to say “Here, in Edinburgh each August, we come to re-establish connections. We all need to feel a part of something much larger than ourselves. What better cause than uniting strangers in mutual curiosity. We have searched for connection and commonality across a broad spectrum of the arts, of cultures and of artistic collaborations to create a programme that offers a fresh perspective on what binds and defines us. Now we deepen this search alongside you”. There is something of that which is reflected in our readings.

On Thursday morning we held a zoom service celebrating the Ascension. It is unclear from the Gospels and from Paul’s writings how long the period between the Resurrection and the Ascension was.

The Church’s liturgical year suggests just a few weeks.  In Matthew, it looks very short, while Paul seems to extend it to include the appearance to him on the Damascus Road. John’s account is the most vivid, with details of significant meetings and memorable meals. In Acts it seems to suggest that the disciples are hoping that things will go on like they used to be, only better. Then they suddenly find that Jesus is not going to stay and that he expects them to carry on without him. As they head back to that upper room we hear nothing of their emotions – no fear, no despair, no joy. They get on with things, waiting for whatever it was that Jesus said he would send to help them, though they were not sure that they will know it when it arrives.

One minute they are in the inner circle, waiting to hear about the plans from the kingdom of Israel and their vital part on the matter, and the next minute, they are a leaderless, purposeless group of people.  But they have learned two things. Did you notice them? They have learned to stick together - whatever happens and to keep praying.  Sticking together and praying are to become two of the defining characteristics of the new Christian community.

In our gospel, prayer and community are equally obvious. Jesus’ prayer for the disciples is that they “may be one as we are one”.  Jesus knows that the disciples may feel left bereft after the Ascension. He asks for protection for his followers “so that they may be one”, and in their unity, demonstrate the loving unity of God.

As we seek to follow the ascended Lord, may we too follow that same example.

We rejoice O Christ that you call us to follow you and that in union with you we can live as sons and daughters of eternal love. Through the power of your spirit help us to dwell in that love and live it out towards those we meet today.