Edward McMillan is now in his second year at Ridley Hall, University of Cambridge. Here he reflects on some of what he has learned so far.
I have been thinking a lot recently about the phrase, “Dearly Beloved”. It is, of course, a familiar scriptural form of address. We might think, for example, of Paul’s exhortation to the Church in Thessalonica, “We beseech you, brethren, and exhort you by the Lord Jesus” (I Thess. 4.1). There, the Apostle is encouraging those for whom he deeply cares, his brethren (brothers and sisters), to walk in the commandments of Christ, and so please God.
It must be one of the most familiar phrases in the Prayer Book, known to so many around the world as the opening words of the Marriage Service. At St Giles-in-the-Fields, those words carry a great weight: they are the book-end of our daily round of prayer, introducing both the morning and evening services, “Dearly beloved brethren, the Scripture moveth us…”
The phrase, however, can carry an even deeper meaning. That same letter is addressed to, “Brethren beloved” (I Thess. 1.4). It is this sense, from the translation of the Greek word “ἀγαπητός” (agapétos), that has come down to us as, “Dearly Beloved”. It is a word which carries and suggests a deep level of intimacy, a relationship founded on prayer, “without ceasing”.
These words tell us both something about God and something about ourselves – hence, the two directions of the phrase in the Marriage Service: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God, and in the face of this Congregation”.
First, we are “dearly beloved” of God. He is our creator and he loves us so tenderly. I was struck by a line at Morning Prayer this week drawing on that same idea: “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psalm 139.14). God not only makes and fashions us, but also fills us and all creation with awe and wonder.
Second, we are to live as “Dearly beloved brethren”. In other words, we are called to be as brothers and sisters with a deep and rich love one for another, rooted in God’s love for us.
It was very special to hear Wil James preach and lead Mattins for the first time since his licensing last week. He reminded us that we can often fail to live up to the ideal I have just sketched out. I was particularly struck by his analogy of the ‘circle of trust’, where a group forms a circle with one member blindfolded in the middle who must be guided in their movements by those around the outside. If they move too fast, they might run out of the circle – perhaps headlong into a wall! And if they aren’t guided and shepherded well by those who can see, they can hardly move at all.
The comparison allows us to think about living together, about the trust and mutual support required. More particularly, it allows us to think about the vocation (or ‘calling’) each of us has from God. How might each of us build up the body of Christ in our lives?
There is a general vocation to ‘holiness’ - a life of faith with Christ as the object of our love and trust. Saint Peter reminds us we are a, “Chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people” (I Peter 2.9). And that last idea is increasingly important. Christians are called to be, “peculiar”. We are to think and to live differently, hallowing ordinary things in our lives.
Of all the things I have enjoyed reading this past year at theological college, I cannot recommend enough the author Marilynne Robinson. Her books celebrate the wonder and simple beauty found in ordinary things - "the small scale of human relations." Simple things such as work, family and friendships all form part of a life of service to God.
Bishop Sarah also struck this note when she preached at St Giles earlier this year: The simple things we do in life can remind us of the work of Christ: what He has done for us, and what He will do for us at the end.
Jesus Christ did not spend his days on earth in mighty palaces. He came among us, born in an outhouse, for a life of service to the hungry, sick and needy. He taught and made friendships with former tax collectors, fishermen, and so many others besides. He saw holiness in ordinary people and places.
I am hesitant, when asked, to put a time and date on my own sense of vocation. I had no ‘epiphany moment’, so to speak. I can, however, point to moments in my life where I have sensed God’s call more strongly.
Reading one day a few years ago the Gospel according to St Matthew, I was struck by God’s words, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3.17). It is the fearful and wonderful scene of Jesus’ baptism. The heavens open and the Spirit of God descends upon him, “Like a dove”.
I saw in those words the Father’s deep love for His Son, and so for all of us. In our own baptisms, we too are “dearly beloved” of God. We too receive his promises of forgiveness, love and salvation, won for us on the Cross.
I want to leave you with some words from the late Timothy Dudley-Smith, who died in August of this year. A great hymn-writer and bishop, these are his reflections on that tragic and heart-rending hymn, “When I survey the wondrous cross”. They are a reminder of the Good News of Christ and of the wonderful things which He has already won for us. He writes:
“So much of Jesus’ teaching is looking for a response to his invitation: “Follow me!” “Receive me!”; Come to me!”; “Believe in me!”; “Come to me as your Saviour from sin and death, and Master of your life”. Perhaps you can guess that I did respond. I knew that it was for love of me, for you and me both, that Jesus died and rose, and lives. And His call is still the same. So is his promise. “Whoever comes to me, I will never turn away”.
May God help us in the light of eternity to survey that cross, to understand and to respond. Amen.
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