Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889)

THIS week’s Gospel reading (for The Fifth Sunday After Trinity) is the calling of St Peter (Lk 5:1-11).

After the miraculous catch of fish, Peter exclaims in alarm,

DEPART from me; for I am a sinful man, Lord. (Lk 5:8)

In his Cuddesdon Addresses To Clergy, Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889), the well-known Biblical scholar and conscientious Bishop of Durham, linked Peter’s words to Jesus here with his words later in Christ’s ministry, when so many disciples took offence at his preaching about the Eucharist.

LORD, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life. (Jn 6:68)

Bishop Lightfoot wrote:

“DEPART from me, O Lord.” This fear of the Lord is indeed the beginning of wisdom. This consciousness of sin is the straight pathway to heaven. The saintliest of men have ever spoken and felt most strongly of their own sinfulness.

The intensity of their language has provoked the sneers of the worldling. Has he not evidence here, on their own confession, that, despite all their pretensions to holiness, they are no better than he?

But they know, and he does not know, what sin means, for they know what God means. And therefore the despairing cry is wrung from their agony, “Depart from me, O Lord.”

“Depart from me;” and yet not so, O Lord. Even while Peter is speaking, his gestures belie his words. His lips implore Jesus despairingly to depart, but his eyes and his hands entreat Him to stay. Not so, Lord: for how can I endure to part from Thee? In Thy presence only is comfort, is strength, is hope, is light, is life.

“Depart from me?” Nay; it is for the godless to say, “Depart from us; for we desire not the knowledge of God.” It is for the unclean spirits to rave against Thee, “Let us alone, Thou Jesus of Nazareth, what have we to do with Thee?” But I, I have everything to do with Thee. I am created in the image of God. I have a ray of the Divine Light, a seed of the Divine Word, within me. And like seeks like.

Therefore I yearn after Thee; therefore I am drawn towards Thee; therefore I stretch out my hands to Thee over this wide chasm of sin which yawns between us. “Lord, to whom else shall we go? Thou hast the words of eternal life.”

Ordination Addresses And Counsels To Clergy (1890). Cuddesdon Addresses No. II.

See more original extracts for The Fifth Sunday After Trinity, and by Bishop Lightfoot.

Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889)

IN Article VII, we are assured that we are not bound by the ceremonial law. “[T]he law given from God by Moses, as touching ceremonies and rites, do not bind Christian men (Heb 10:11-18; Acts 15:19-21)”.

Article VII goes on, “… nor the civil precepts thereof ought of necessity to be received in any commonwealth (Acts 15:23-29).”

This is not because the Law was bad (Mt 5:17-20; Rom 7:12). We as Christians just do not believe that regulation is the way to put new hearts in us (Jer 31:31-34).

In today’s second reading at Evensong (Gal 4:21-5:13), Paul reminds the Galatians “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage”.

With our General Election coming up, all three main parties are busily setting out how big government and/or social engineering will make our country better. But preaching one Trinity Sunday to an assembly of senior Judges, Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889) warned:

IF the ceremonial of to-day is intended, as I cannot doubt it is intended, to teach us any lesson at all, it must surely be this; that law renders homage to a higher power; that it acknowledges its own imperfections; that it looks up to those eternal principles of duty and order and self-restraint, which are the expression of the mind of God, as the Great Original, of which it is only a partial, shadowy image, the Fountain-Head, from which it derives its truest inspiration. In short it bears testimony to the importance of belief.

History is our witness, that not even the most perfect administration of law, and the most complete elaboration of political machinery, can save society from utter degradation and ruin, if this higher principle be wanting. This truth has been vindicated at infinite cost to a sceptical world, but it has been vindicated signally and beyond dispute.

The Roman Empire — the most elaborate organisation and the vastest power, which the world has ever seen — fell at length — fell, and how great was its fall, we know. At the very moment, when her great lawyers had elaborated that marvellous system of jurisprudence which has been the special bequest of Rome to an admiring world; at the very moment, when the cornice had been placed on the edifice of her political institutions, and the franchise, gradually extended, was at length granted to all the subjects of that vast empire; then, just then, unmistakable signs of decay appeared. She was seen to be tottering to her fall.

And this, because despite her admirable laws, despite her political institutions, her moral principles were eaten away. She had ceased to believe in any higher power, who vindicates those principles. She was rotten at heart. This is a lesson surely, on which we Englishmen may do well in this age to ponder.

More by Bishop Lightfoot here, and on traditional, Anglican conservativism here.

TODAY, Wednesday Before Easter, is also known as “Spy Wednesday”, because we remember on this day Judas’s betrayal of Jesus.

Bishop Hugh Latimer (1485-1555) spoke rather as Charles Wesley might, of true repentance ending in a lively faith in Christ’s death “for me”.

THE first point is to acknowledge our sins, and to be sorry for the same; but, as I said before, we must not tarry here: for Judas was come so far, he had this point; he was, no doubt, a sorrowful man as any can be in the world: but it was to no purpose; he was lost for all his sorrowfulness: therefore we must have another point.

What is that? Marry, faith, belief: we must believe, we must know that our Saviour is come into this world to save sinners: therefore he is called Jesus, because “he shall save his people from their sins;” as the angel of God himself witnesseth.

And this faith must not be only a general faith, but it must be a special faith. For the devil himself hath a general faith: he believeth that Christ is come into this world, and hath made a reconciliation between God and man; he knoweth that there shall be remission of our sins, but he believeth not that he shall have part of it; that his wickedness shall be forgiven unto him, this he believeth not; he hath but a general faith.

But I say that every one of us must have a special faith: I must believe for myself, that his blood was shed for me. I must believe that when Christ saith, “Come to me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will ease you;” here I must believe that Christ calleth me unto him, that I should come and receive everlasting life at his hands.

Works Of Hugh Latimer. Sermon XXX: On The Epistle For The First Sunday In Advent

AND can it be, that I should gain
An interest in the Saviour’s blood?
Died he for me, who caused his pain?
For me, who him to death pursued?
Amazing love! how can it be
That thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

He left his Father’s throne above,
(So free, so infinite his grace!)
Emptied himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam’s helpless race:
‘Tis mercy all, immense and free,
For, O my God, it found out me!

Charles Wesley (1707-1788)
And Can It Be, That I Should Gain?

For similar ideas, see also “Of Repentance” in the First Book Of Homilies, 1547 (extract here), and Bishop Lightfoot (here).

Interior of Durham Cathedral. © Paul Robson, Geograph. Used under licence.

THIS morning’s second reading (Mk 14:53-72), which tells of the trial of Jesus and St Peter’s denial, gives me a chance to quote from one of my favourite sermons.

Having stoutly protested he would never abandon his friend, Peter denied even knowing him, as Jesus was being condemned to death before the high court of the Jewish nation.

AND the second time the cock crew. And Peter called to mind the word that Jesus said unto him, Before the cock crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice. And when he thought thereon, he wept.

Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889), the great New Testament scholar and much-loved Bishop of Durham, asked us to look not at what Peter did, but at how he came back from it.

He compared St Peter’s response to that of Judas, and urged us to learn this lesson: that repentance depends upon hope as much as on sorrow.

THE two great preachers of the Gospel were destined to be Peter the denier of Christ, and Paul the persecutor of Christ. Why should not Judas the betrayer of Christ have made up the triad? Why not, except that having lost faith he had lost hope also. His horizon was bounded by the past. Now, now that the past was lost, nothing remained but suicide. This was the remorseless logic of his position.

Do not believe it, when they tell you that hope is a glamour, an illusion, a phantom-light tempting you into a morass, and luring you to your destruction. Hope is the reflection of God’s mercy; hope is the echo of God’s love. Hope is energy, hope is strength, hope is life. Without hope sorrow for sin will lead only to ruin. …

HAVE you been tempted? Have you yielded? Have you sinned? Then go out from the scene of your temptation, as Peter went out, and weep bitter tears of repentance before God. But having done this, return, return at once, and strengthen your brethren. In active charity for others, in devoted service to God, is the truest safeguard against the suicidal promptings of remorse.

Be the foremost to enter the sepulchre of the risen Lord; the foremost to pledge your devotion to Him, undaunted by recent failure; the foremost to receive the pastoral charge; the foremost to bear witness of Him to an unbelieving world; the foremost in zeal, the foremost in danger, the foremost to do and to suffer.

The past is beyond recall. Put it behind you. The future is full of magnificent opportunities. Endeavour to realise them. Be energetic, be courageous, be hopeful. In the agony of your contrition, from the depths of your despair, listen to the Divine Voice which summons you: “Let the dead bury their dead; dead opportunities, dead regrets, dead failures; yes even, dead sins; and follow thou Me.”

Sermons In St Paul’s. Sermon VIII: The One Taken And The Other Left.

Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889)

IN this morning’s reading (Mk 12:35-13:14), Jesus promises to his disciples not world peace and seamless social justice, but constant persecution and betrayal.

FOR nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom… the brother shall betray the brother to death, and the father the son; and children shall rise up against their parents, and shall cause them to be put to death. And ye shall be hated of all men for my name’s sake: but he that shall endure unto the end, the same shall be saved.

Jesus never promised a Utopia. “Not peace, but a sword” was his prediction (Jn 14:27). And yet as Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889) reminded us, Jesus left with his Apostles a peace which no other creed, no commerce or politics, can begin to approach.

IF you would learn how Christ fulfils His promise to His true disciples, if you would test the value of this peace which He has left as His parting gift, do not seek it in the heat of controversy, in the wrangling of theological disputants, or in the strifes of religious parties: but go rather to the true disciples of Christ, to the lowly and the poor in spirit, to the suffering and oppressed, to the sorrowful and bereaved, to the sick and dying.

Watch the wife cruelly outraged in her deepest feelings by the desertion, or worse than desertion, of a husband, for whose love she has given up all; or the mother wounded at heart by the base ingratitude of a child, for whose advancement she has sacrificed all the comforts, and was ready to sacrifice even the necessities of life.

See how, notwithstanding the bitterness of her trial, a deep calm broods over the sufferer, lulling her sharpest pangs, and enabling her to forget her own sorrow, while she ministers to the less poignant sufferings of others. Go to the wretched hovel of the pauper, worn out with age, helpless, unfriended and alone, destitute of everything which could make the burden of life tolerable, and yet cheerful and contented, drawing from an unseen source never-failing draughts of comfort and hope.

Go and stand by the bed of the dying man; watch his last agonies, as the soul struggles to set itself free; see how amid his paroxysms the gleam of joy lights up his features, flushing them with the consciousness of an invisible Presence, and the faint smile and the pressure of the hand bear witness to this inward peace, triumphant over pain, triumphant over death. Go and visit these scenes, and then say, whether Christ is slack to fulfil His promise, whether the peace of the Gospel is a delusion or not.

Sermons In St Paul’s Sermon X: Christ’s Gift Of Peace.

More by Bishop Lightfoot here.

Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889)

OUR second reading this morning continues with Jesus’s warnings and encouragements for the Church in persecution (Mt 24:29-50).

THEN shall two be in the field; the one shall be taken, and the other left. Two women shall be grinding at the mill; the one shall be taken, and the other left. Watch therefore: for ye know not what hour your Lord doth come.

Joseph Lightfoot gave us examples of just such pairs. Beside Jesus on his cross, there was the penitent thief taken to paradise, and the impenitent thief who mocked him. Among the Sanhedrin, there was Joseph Caiaphas who sent Jesus to be crucified, and Joseph of Arimathea who gave him a burial with honour.

And among the Twelve Apostles, there was the pair who denied him: Peter, who wept tears of remorse and came back to strengthen his brethren (Mt 24:75), and Judas his betrayer, who hanged himself in despair (Mt 27:5).

The difference, Bishop Lightfoot tells us, was that Judas became turned in on his own actions, and did not look outside himself to God’s immense mercy.

HE knew God only as an avenging Judge. He did not know Him as a loving Father. What could he hope from a Judge? What might he not have hoped from a Father? The concentration on self is a denial of faith. The concentration on the past is an exclusion of hope.

We must constantly be on the watch. Do we like poor Judas take our eyes off the blessed future God opens before us, distracted with our own past? Or do we gaze upward with hope for the coming of our Lord?

JUDAS could not face the future. The past had been an utter failure. He had attempted to make reparation; but he could not retrieve the irretrievable, could not undo what was done. Yet the future was all before him; the future was uncompromised. The two great preachers of the Gospel were destined to be Peter the denier of Christ, and Paul the persecutor of Christ. Why should not Judas the betrayer of Christ have made up the triad? Why not, except that having lost faith he had lost hope also. His horizon was bounded by the past.

Have you been tempted? Have you yielded? Have you sinned? Then go out from the scene of your temptation, as Peter went out, and weep bitter tears of repentance before God. But having done this, return, return at once, and strengthen your brethren. In active charity for others, in devoted service to God, is the truest safeguard against the suicidal promptings of remorse.

Be the foremost to enter the sepulchre of the risen Lord; the foremost to pledge your devotion to Him, undaunted by recent failure; the foremost to receive the pastoral charge; the foremost to bear witness of Him to an unbelieving world; the foremost in zeal, the foremost in danger, the foremost to do and to suffer.

Sermons In St Paul’s (Pub. 1891). Sermon VIII: One Taken And The Other Left.

Bishop Joseph Barber Lightfoot (1828-1889)

IN our second reading at Evensong (Act 16:16-40), the gaoler astonished at the miraculous release of the Apostles gasped: “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?”

AND they said, Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved, and thy house. And they spake unto him the word of the Lord, and to all that were in his house.

Bishop Joseph Lightfoot (1828-1889) explored the answer given by the Apostles to this desperate appeal.

WOULD we ask the question, as it should be asked? Would we ask it in such a way, that it will receive its full and effective answer? Then our petition will run thus. What must I do, that I may be delivered from this my sin? What must I do, that I may cleanse myself from this impurity, which sullies my soul? What must I do, that I may rid me of this untruthfulness, this dishonesty, this insincerity, which mars my life? What must I do, that I may expel this avarice, which cramps my heart? What must I do, that I may shake off this lethargy, which numbs my spirit? What must I do, that I may cast out this demon of worldliness, of self, which shuts out Thee and Thy presence, O God? For Thou, Lord, and Thou only, art salvation. Thou only art heaven. Thou only art eternal life.

And to the question so asked the answer is still the same to us, as it was to this heathen gaoler eighteen centuries ago: “Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved.” Believe on Him, not as a traditional heirloom, not as a formal creed, not as a sentimental aspiration, but believe with that direct, personal, living faith, with that practical trust and confidence, which will draw you to Him, as the truest of friends, for advice, for consolation, for strength, for renewal, in all your sorrows and in all your trials.

And, above all, believe that He has power to save you from your sins. What were the terms of the angelic message, of which the season reminds us? “Thou shalt call His name Jesus: for He shall save His people” — not from the wrath to come, not from the fire that is not quenched, not from future retribution in any form (though this also He shall do), but first and chiefest — “from their sins”. Yes; it is this actual weight of sin, under which at this moment you are staggering, that He undertakes to remove. It is a present strength, a present cleansing, a present renewal, a present salvation, that He promises to you. This faith — the highest form of faith — will indeed remove mountains. “I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.” “Only believe,” and thou shalt be saved. “Lord, I believe; help Thou mine unbelief.”

Sermons Preached At St Paul’s. Sermon XVII: The Philippian Gaoler.