Sermon - The beginning of the end

This Small House, Richard Woods, 2022

Sermon preached at the Sung Eucharist at St George’s Bloomsbury on Sunday 28th August 2022 (Year C, 11th after Trinity, Proper 17) based on the text of Hebrews 13.1-8, 15-16 and Luke 14.1, 7-14.

“It’s the beginning of the end!”

screams an article I was sent this week - bemoaning what it claims to be a growing culture of commercialization in churches and cathedrals; some of which have played host to mini-golf courses, model dinosaurs and helter-skelters during the summer months. It describes such initiatives as pursuing "the lowest common denominator” which means - and I quote - “higher purposes” are squeezed out.

Apparently, "God has left the building."

The bilious broadside is illustrated with a photograph of the latest contemporary art installation in Southwark Cathedral, which has been on display for the past few months.

‘This Small House’ by Richard Woods depicts a typical terraced house; drawn as if by a child, with a chimney poking out of the roof and three windows arranged around a bright red front door. At 7.5 metres tall, the 1:1 scale image stands in front of the high altar. 

An archetypal family home placed within the house of God. Reminding us of the domestic origin of the earliest gatherings of the faithful, in the house churches of the first century. 

Art which may not be to everyone's taste - but seems perfectly placed, to me.

Perhaps part of the controversy surrounding the installation can be traced back to the tension highlighted in the parable we’ve just heard; in which Jesus tells us not to invite our friends, brothers, relatives or rich neighbours to dinner - but the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. An uncomfortable instruction that breaks apart our pre-conceived ideas about living in community at home (where, if we're honest, we don't expect to dine with strangers that often) and church (where we do - even if we aren't always great at doing it).

In the parable, the boundaries between the two are not just diluted but dissolved by Jesus' radical approach to hospitality; a foretaste of the Kingdom.


Fifteen hundred and forty six years ago this week, it really was the beginning of the end. On August 28th in the year 476, Orestes, the supreme military governor of Rome was executed and a week later, on September 4th, his son and puppet ruler Emperor Romulus Augustus was deposed; an event the history books record not only as marking the end of the Western Roman Empire but the end of the age of antiquity - the beginning a new era. 

In the decades that followed, the economy began to fail and borders were under constant attack. Many people sought stability by clinging to the trappings of status; creating mini-empires of their own. 

Someone who lived at this time was the man we know as Saint Benedict. Born into a wealthy family, he abandoned his studies and sought to live a life of simplicity and obedience to God. 

The Letter to the Hebrews encourages us to “remember [our] leaders…[to] consider the outcome of their way of life, and imitate their faith”. We might do no better than call on the example of Benedict. 

His Rule, written to guide the monastic community he founded, is rooted in scripture and acknowledgment of the equality of all before God. Based on earlier texts, it’s spiritual heart and longest chapter opens with a quotation from the gospel reading we’ve just heard:

‘For all who exalt themselves will be humbled, and those who humble themselves will be exalted.’

Benedict sees all exaltation - the act of elevating someone or something in rank - as a form of pride. Humility is the process of breaking down that pride. We are humbled by the grace of God but must be willing and active participants in his work. 

So we must practice the radical hospitality that Jesus describes, at a personal level. In his Rule, Benedict offers a step by step guide. Teaching us how to make room for Jesus at the table of our lives. 

Learning to embrace humility through radical hospitality is a messy endeavour. 

So perhaps it’s no accident that in its root meaning, humility ‘earths’ us. But, where there’s muck there’s brass. Here in the humus we grow in the self-knowledge that we are all equally loved by God. 

Humility confronts us with ‘dirtiness’ or ‘messiness’ because it reconciles us with the true reality of life – tearing away the polished façade, our pre-conceived expectations about our common life together that we find it all too comfortable to live behind. Reminding us of the truth of our shared humanity. That we are all equal in the eyes of God.

My own experience of humble service and radical hospitality seems to involve mess. 

Perhaps the strongest memory is of being put up on hastily made camp beds with my brother and sister when we were little, after our father walked out to live elsewhere just before Christmas. A messy time in all sorts of ways, but one in which, years later, the hospitality of others still shines through. It was a time of tears and uncertainty but also laughter - as our hosts dressed up as Father Christmas and his elves to entertain us. People willing to upend their plans - and furniture - to accommodate us physically and emotionally at a time of year when it is not always easy for families to show hospitality to one another, let alone welcome outsiders in. 

We often recognise truly humble service and radical hospitality at times like these. Actions that are never used as collateral in future arguments or to seek praise - tokens in a game of self-exaltation. 

Humble service and radical hospitality offer a glimpse of the Kingdom - the divine banquet to come; where we will sit alongside people who are never on a guest list and have never occupied places of honour before. People who are not able to pay us back.

This is not only about storing up treasure in heaven - training us for what is to come. History shows us that this ‘sacrifice of praise to God’ can - and has been - world-changing. 

Benedict’s Rule - rooted in humility and radical hospitality - is said to have had an ‘incalculable’ influence on western cultural and religious history. For centuries after the fall of the Roman Empire, Benedictines would be custodians and pioneers of the arts, science and technology; providers of health and social care; shapers of culture for a new age. 

So, with our eyes firmly fixed on the vision of the Kingdom before us - and emboldened by the way of life of those who have gone before; may we, by the grace of God, root our lives in humility and radical hospitality. Let’s start setting the table for that glorious banquet now - and so choose to make this day the ‘beginning of the end.’

Amen. 


Image : ‘This Small House’ by Richard Woods, Southwark Cathedral 2022