Sermon - You'll miss me when I'm gone

Fig Tree by Paul Klee

A sermon given during the Sung Eucharist at St George's Bloomsbury on Sunday 23rd March 2025 (Year C, Lent III) based on readings from Isaiah 55.1-9, 1 Corinthians 10.1-13 and Luke 13.1-9

’You’ll miss me when I’m gone’ is the title of a book written by Gary Morecambe about the life of his father, Eric - one half of the famous comedy duo Morecambe and Wise. Eric would often say ‘You’ll miss me when I’m gone’ when he had been annoying the Morecambe family with his jokes at home. 

The man who found the humour in every situation highlighting the funny way we treat each other, even those closest to us and even though we know our time together on earth is limited. How often we take those relationships - that finite time together - for granted. ‘You’ll miss me when I’m gone.’

A number of times I’ve been at a funeral or memorial service for someone I know and during the tributes learnt fascinating things about their lives that I had no idea about – and regret not having had the opportunity to speak with them about it before they died. Often after such a service I might say to a friend or family member - we must stop meeting at funerals and make a date to see each other soon. And do I follow it up? Do I heck as like (as they might say in Morecambe). Things that seem more pressing always end up taking priority. 

Often our relationships with other people are at heart transactional. Driven by our needs. Even those with our closest friends and family – and even to the end. 

These famous lyrics were read by Ernie Wise at Eric Morecambe’s funeral:

“Bring me sunshine
In your smile
Bring me laughter
All the while
In this world where we live
There should be more happiness
So much joy you can give
To each brand new bright tomorrow.”

The song by Arthur Kent and Sylvia Dee became Morecambe and Wise’s signature tune. In contrast to the cheerful melody, the lyrics explore a deep yearning for a different life – one of laughter, joy and love sweet love – in the sure knowledge of the transformative effect of a life lived in the light.

In our first reading from the Book of Isaiah we are presented with an invitation to such a new life. A bright new tomorrow of abundance and delight. An invitation to share in everything that God has to offer us. To share in relationship with God himself. 

‘Come, buy wine and milk without money and without price…delight yourselves in rich food…incline your ear and come to me; listen, so that you may live.’

With an offer like that, why turn anywhere else? All that you could possibly need for a life of perfect fulfilment is here with God. 

‘Why do you spend your money for that which is not bread and your labour for that which does not satisfy?’ The prophet jokes.

There is nothing transactional about this relationship. It costs us nothing. Even the ‘wicked and unrighteous’ can return to the Lord, who will ‘abundantly pardon them’ no questions asked, no quid pro quo.

It’s also a relationship we can all too easily take for granted. 

Is there a hint of Eric Morecambe’s ‘You’ll miss me when I’m gone’ when the prophet declares:

‘Seek the Lord while he may be found, call upon him while he is near.’

Why wouldn’t we make the most of this glorious, fulfilling relationship by turning and embracing it in the here and now?

But, like our human relationships, it’s also one that we often treat in a transactional way. Turning to God only when we are in dire straits. At rock bottom. In sickness or confronted by death. 

We can only guess – but perhaps that’s why some people brought up examples of two tragic events in conversation with Jesus.

The passage from Luke’s gospel we hear today is unique and mysterious. 

We know nothing about the horrific loss of life it describes. Scholars tell us the records reveal no detail about the Galileans who were murdered by Pilate or why he mingled their blood with that of their sacrifices. Nor do we know anything further about the eighteen people who were killed when the tower of Siloam fell on them. 

Jesus doesn’t offer a clear explanation as to why these events took place. But he makes abundantly clear that the sudden and violent death of these people was not a result of divine punishment. They did not die because they were sinners. 

In his response, Jesus challenges the crowd to reconsider their understanding of their relationship with God, which they seem to view in a transactional way. 

“Unless you repent, you will all perish just as they did” Jesus says – twice. 

It sounds like a transactional proposition - but it isn’t. Jesus is saying that their good fortune – the fact that they haven’t succumbed to a terrible disaster of either natural or human origin – isn’t because of their special favour from God for something they have done in return. 

When it comes to the relationship between God and his people there is no grey area for give and take or room for negotiation. The relationship is the only thing that matters in and of itself. We cannot turn to God in part or with some sort of contingency. 

Unless we repent – unless we turn away from sin and be faithful to Christ – to reject all that which is contrary to God’s will – we will perish. 

That’s the challenge we were given at the start of Lent. And it’s why these forty days and forty nights are important. A finite period in which we intentionally seek to put aside those things that we think are more pressing – and to spend time growing in relationship with God. 

Jesus goes on to tell a parable which emphasises the need for dedicating time for such growth - before it’s too late. A man sees a barren fig tree in his garden and calls for it to be cut down to make way for something more productive. The gardener suggests a reprieve of a year. Enough time to fertilise the soil around the tree to see if it will bear fruit next season. If not, then it can be cut down. 

We are so practiced in seeing the world through a lens of deficit and transactional relationships that it’s easy to see the parable in the same way. Grow and bear fruit - or else! 

But the point of the parable is that the time that the tree can bear fruit – like the time we have to repent - is finite, because our lives our finite. God’s abundant grace isn’t; and we shouldn’t take that for granted.

St Paul realised how hard it is to turn our lives around. To repent. He reserves particular criticism for those who claim to have mastered the task. Writing to the church in Corinth who seem to have become divided as a result of disputes about how to worship and how to act as Christians he says : “if you think you are standing, watch out that you do not fall.”

He immediately goes on to affirm the wideness of God’s mercy on those who do so: 

“God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength, but with the testing he will also provide the way out so that you may be able to endure it.” 

As we follow Jesus into the wilderness during Lent he provides that clue. That way through the testing.

So often our approach to faith - our relationship with God - is viewed in a transactional way. We must keep the commandments, we must say our prayers, we must study the scriptures, we must give up something in Lent - because in return we will become good Christians. A better person in the sight of God.

But as the scriptures remind us today, our relationship with God is not transactional.

We are called to do all those things because Jesus did them. Because following him in faith is the key to turning our lives towards God. The key to repentance. 

This season of Lent ends with the ultimate selfless act of love. The ultimate non-transactional act. 

Before which Jesus ensured that we would not miss him when he is gone - through the institution of the Eucharist - the perpetual remembrance of his death and passion until his coming again. 

But we can miss the opportunity to turn to him. By taking our relationship with God for granted, just as we treat so many of our human relationships in the same way.

Can this place - Christ’s church, be a community where we learn to model that marvellous divine relationship as we encounter each other. A relationship which has value in and of itself. Not because I need something from you - or vice versa. 

Is this a place where we can grow and bear fruit by turning our lives to embrace God’s abundant grace,  encounter one another through it and engage with the world outside by it – living in the way that Jesus taught us? 

To paraphrase a song;

Let our arms be as wide
As the Son from up above
Bringing grace 
Bringing light
Bringing Love. 

Image - Fig Tree by Paul Klee, 1929