Thinking allowed

Trinity 16: 5 October 2025

Read­ings: Lam­ent­a­tions 1.1–6; Psalm 137; 2 Timothy 1.1–14; Luke 17.5–10.

In the name of the Fath­er and of the Son and of the Holy Spir­it. Amen.

“We are worth­less slaves;
we have done only what we ought to have done!”
Some words from Jesus in the gos­pel read­ing we have just heard.

Well I was in Lon­don dur­ing the week,
and I happened to be walk­ing from
West­min­ster Abbey to Lam­beth Palace,
when I spot­ted an inter­est­ing monument
on the Embank­ment at Millbank
that I’d nev­er noticed before.
It’s a 19th-cen­tury fountain,
a big covered drink­ing fountain,
dec­or­ated with poly­chro­mat­ic brick or stone,
and it’s called, as I discovered,
the Bux­ton Memorial.

The Bux­ton Memori­al Foun­tain
[pic­ture: Simon Ker­shaw Octo­ber 2025]

It com­mem­or­ates a num­ber of Mem­bers of Parliament
who led the 19th-cen­tury campaigns
first
to abol­ish the slave trade
and then
to abol­ish slavery itself.

And our gos­pel read­ing today
presents us with an “inter­est­ing” situation,
don’t you agree?
In that second half, Jesus talks about slaves,
and per­haps you found it a bit uncomfortable.

So, hands up if the idea of slavery
makes you uncomfortable –
the idea … of being a slave,
the idea … of own­ing slaves,
the idea … of trad­ing slaves.
Slaves – that’s … oth­er human beings.

Most of us here – with a few exceptions –
prob­ably don’t con­sider ourselves
to have any dir­ect link with slavery –
we aren’t des­cen­ded from slaves,
and we prob­ably aren’t descended
from slave-own­ers either,
though of course
we might still have benefitted
from insti­tu­tions and investments
that derive from slavery.

I guess there are one or two excep­tions among us,
and plenty of oth­ers in our town
and else­where around us,
and we can­’t talk about slavery
without being sens­it­ive to that
and to the impact it has had
on our friends and their families.
I’m sure that that per­son­al stake makes a difference
to how today’s gos­pel read­ing is heard,
and speak­ing for myself
per­haps I find it too easy
not to worry that much about it.

Nor should we for­get that there are people in this country,
prob­ably people here in St Ives,
who are involved in “mod­ern slavery”:
people who are exploited and kept in bondage;
people who exploit oth­ers and keep them in bondage.

Hav­ing said all that, however,
I want to make two quick points – about Jesus.
First, let’s be abso­lutely clear:
there is no indic­a­tion at all
from any­thing we read in the New Testament
that Jesus or his family
or any of his imme­di­ate associates
ever owned slaves.
There are no slaves at his birth in Bethlehem,
and no slaves tend­ing to him in the gospels.
When Jesus vis­its his friends Mary and Martha,
it is fam­ously Martha
who is busy with domest­ic chores,
not a slave.

And the second point
is that Jesus isn’t set­ting out
to over­turn the insti­tu­tion of slavery
as it exis­ted in the ancient Medi­ter­ranean world –
not in the short term anyway.
That was for later generations –
though he clearly envisaged
a dif­fer­ent way of treat­ing everyone,
regard­less of wheth­er they were slave or free.

So what are we to make of all this?

Well yes­ter­day
I was licensed by the bishop
to be a lay reader,
a licensed lay minister
in this parish.
And being a min­is­ter is also about being a servant.
You see, the word min­is­ter comes to us from Latin
and its first use was in the second century
to refer to dea­cons.

That’s because the word dea­con
comes from the Greek word διάκονος1,
which simply means “ser­vant”,
per­haps espe­cially someone
who waits at table.
It wasn’t long before “min­is­ter”
came to be used of all clergy –
not just dea­cons, but priests and bish­ops too,
(even archbishops-designate)
and also of the less­er orders
such as sub-dea­cons and readers,
all of whom are servants …
ser­vants of God.

And Jesus makes this point sev­er­al times, doesn’t he?
In one of the week­day readings
from Morn­ing Pray­er last week,2
Jesus reminds his disciples
that the rulers of the Gentiles
lord it over them
and that the great ones of the Gen­tiles are tyrants.
But his dis­ciples, Jesus says,
his dis­ciples are to be ser­vants;
and he mixes the lan­guage of ser­vants and slaves
say­ing that
“who­ever wishes to become great among you
must be your ser­vant3,
and who­ever wishes to be first among you
must be slave4 of all”.5

This same story appears also in Luke’s gos­pel6
only there it has an extra punchline –
“who is great­er,” asks Jesus,
“the one who is at the table
or the one who serves?
Is it not,” Jesus says, “is it not the one at the table?
But I,” he answers him­self, “I
am among you as one who serves”.
And there’s a ver­sion in John’s gos­pel too7.
There Jesus concludes
by telling the disciples
that just as he has served them,
they are to serve one another.

Just as he has served them,
they are to serve one another.

So let’s come back
to the words in today’s gos­pel reading:
“We are worth­less slaves;
we have done only what we ought to have done!”
In our context,
in the twenty-first century,
we might well see Jesus’s words
as a little harsh,
and for some
a pain­ful reminder
of the slave trade.

But let’s para­phrase those words a bit;
how about this?
“Our role as Christians,
as fol­low­ers of Jesus and his teaching,
our role is to serve others,
to look after others,
to help others.
That’s what God asks us to do.”

We may be able to serve a lot;
or we may only have the capa­city at the moment
to serve a little;
or maybe right now
we are among the ones who need to be served.

But it is this humble ser­vice to others
which is at the heart of Jesus’s message
of com­pas­sion and recon­cili­ation.
It is the role of ordained ministers
(even of an archbishop-designate);
it is the role of licensed lay ministers;
it is the role of all of us who hear the words of Jesus.
To serve … God;
to serve … each other;
to serve … the whole of creation.

Because we stand today at a crossroads.
Of course, we stand each day at a crossroads,
the junc­tion between the past and the future;
the past behind us,
known, or partly known;
the future before us, largely unknown.
For me, right now,
that cross­roads is defined by
my licens­ing yes­ter­day in the Cathedral,
my licens­ing as a lay minister
to serve in this parish.
But we each of us stand at a crossroads.
We don’t know what the future will bring,
indi­vidu­ally or collectively,
for us or for our parish.
But what we do know is that
every day
Jesus calls us, each one of us,
to serve.
To serve one another,
to serve our community,
to serve the world.

So, finally once again:
“We are worth­less slaves;
we have done only what we ought to have done!”

Now Jesus is prone to hyperbole.
He loves to exag­ger­ate for effect,
to grab attention.
And we can see that here.
Some­times we need sup­port and affirmation.
At oth­er times we need tak­ing down
a peg or two.
(Well I do anyway.)
But Jesus’s mes­sage is
a call to serve.
I am, he says, among you as one who serves.

So in the days ahead
I invite you
to take a few moments to think about
what you can do to serve;
what we as fol­low­ers of Jesus
indi­vidu­ally and collectively
can do to serve:
to serve God’s world
and to serve God’s people,
to serve them here in St Ives.

Amen.

Note: at the end of this ser­vice it was announced that the Vicar would be leav­ing in Janu­ary. Some of the “unknown future” text was writ­ten with this in mind.

 

  1. diakonos
  2. Mark 10.35–45
  3. διάκονος, diakonos
  4. δοῦλος, doulos
  5. Mark 10.43, 44
  6. Luke 22.24–27
  7. John 13.12–17

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