Given at St Mary's Putney on 4th October 2008 by Giles Goddard

There's a German word - Ohrworm - of which I'm very fond.   Literally it means an earworm;  it's used to describe a tune which gets into your head and goes round and round inside,  and drives you mad.   I've had one of those recently -  an ohrworm.   It dates me,  slightly;   because it's a Beatles song (late Beatles,  not early,  at least) -  Octopus' Garden.    But,  on reflection,  it's not a song which has been driving me mad , because I like the words and like what the song's about.

You could say it was pure, Beatles, escapism - induced by who knows what-  like Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds or Strawberry Fields.  Or you could say it was just a enjoyable song about hope and about a better world.  

We would shout and swim about

The coral that lies beneath the waves

(Lies beneath the ocean waves)

Oh what joy for every girl and boy

Knowing they're happy and they're safe

(Happy and they're safe)

We would be so happy you and me

No one there to tell us what to do

I'd like to be under the sea

In an octopus' garden with you.

In a funny sort of way it seems rather appropriate for Inclusive Church.  A place of safety,  a place of play - the coral, that lies beneath the ocean waves -  oh what joy,  for every girl and boy,  knowing  they're happy and they're safe....  A non-judgemental place - no one there to tell us what to do.....   a new heaven and a new earth, perhaps,  when the old heaven and earth have passed away and there shall be no more tears ... a place,  perhaps,  of love;   a space for grace.  

A long way off,  perhaps.  And yet,  perhaps not.    There are times,  are there not,  when it seems impossibly distant that the church should become,  genuinely and truly,  a place of inclusion,  a place of welcome,  a place of grace and wholeness.  We are all here because, in one way or another, we have experienced the lack of inclusion within the church -  either directly,  because of our gender,  our sexuality, our race,  our poverty or indirectly through knowing others who have received rejection.  We have in some way or other grieved that the church we love is not the church we know it should be.   And there are times, are there not,  when the reality seems so far away from the ideal that we are close to giving up and walking out. 

I think back to this church,  five years ago.   11th August 2003.   The launch of the original on-line petition for Inclusive Church.   Widespread anger - despair, indeed -  at the treatment of Jeffrey.   Widespread anger - despair,  even - at the way the church appeared to be being hijacked by those who refused point blank to accept that being gay or lesbian and in a relationship might,  possibly,  contain holiness just as being straight might, possibly contain holiness.    A sense of hopelessness and a sense of fury. 

Which brought together not a group of twenty disaffected clergy,  not a group of fifty muttering gays, but a group of four hundred clergy and laypeople from right across the spectrum of the Church of England and beyond - women and men,  lay and clergy,  rich and poor,  catholic and evangelical - so that, within a month,  the total signatories had reached nearly 10,000 and a movement had,  to everyone's surprise, been born. 

The readings we've had are big on hope,  and big on faith.  

For in hope we were saved, reads the letter to the Romans.   Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what is seen? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

And

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? asks Matthew's Gospel.  Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Faith,  hope and love abide;  and the greatest of these is love.

So here we are,  five years on.    What began as a protest,  as a focussing of an inchoate sense of anger,  as a recognition that there is common cause between all the tired and shabby forms of exclusion with which we are familiar,  has become something else.  

We've done a lot.   Too much to mention,  but some of the highlights are -  the campaign for General Synod elections;  the annual Eucharists;  the newsletters keeping people up to date;  the attendance at Tanzania and the Lambeth Conference;  the seminars and events in London and around the country ; the appointments first of the Archbishop of Mexico Carlos Touche' Porter and and the Primus of Scotland Idris Jones as Patrons,  and more recently of Jenny Te Paa and Nomfundo Walaza ;  the partnership networking with other organisations ;  the campaigns in General Synod over questions of human sexuality and gender ; and,  of course,  Drenched in Grace our national conference.  A lot.

And,  I dare to think,  we have alongside our partners brought something to the church which was less present before.  We have worked closely with organisations ranging from Accepting Evangelicals to WATCH to bring about our common goal of celebrating the gospel of inclusion to which Jesus Christ calls all of us.   We have, tentatively and haltingly,  begun to model a way of working which tries,  in spite of difficulties,  to be genuinely inclusive, to be sure that all voices are heard equally and the differences in points of view are respected and acknowledged.  We have met with those with whom we disagree,  and in various places but especially at the Lambeth Conference we have tried to model the church as it should be not as it is. 

We would be so happy you and me;   no one there to tell us what to do

I'd like to be,  under the sea,  in an octopus's garden with you.

But where has all that taken us?

In some ways,  very far indeed;  and in some ways, not far at all.   In a way,  of course,  it's sad that IC is needed at all;  it's sad that we are still here after five years.   We had a momentous vote in General Synod for the consecration of women as bishops,  but there is still a long way to go to make it happen.  The Lambeth Conference this year, while not being as bad as it might have been,  made little progress on the substantive issues which challenge us,  especially on the inclusion of lesbian and gay,  bisexual and transgendered people.  The voices of black people are still hardly heard;   and the poor are still outside the gate.   There is still a long way to go.

But at the same time the voices calling for a great bursting open of the doors are insistent,  and becoming louder.    For in hope we were saved,  and in hope we walk on.  

Today we are launching IC TOMORROW  - our strategy for 2009 to 2012.   Its strapline is  "building a better church.”  "Building a better church.”    Today is St Francis day,  and when I think of St Francis I think of him in the ruins of St Damian's Church;  receiving the vision from God - "Build my church.”  And he built a better one.  So what's to stop us? 

Our key message is that inclusion is central to the Gospel, and not an optional extra.  To build a better church,  and  for Christianity to flourish we need to rediscover a passionate commitment to the welcome which Jesus Christ offers to all people. 

Inclusive Church hopes to help the Church of England become a place of wholeness,  where all are welcomed into the transformative and redemptive love of God.  

We have set up some specific aims for the next five years: 

1)  Working and campaigning to be sure that women can become bishops without discrimination;

2) Building up and supporting the voice of black and minority ethnic people in the church;

3) Working for the full recognition of LGBTI people in the church;

4)   Working with our partners to implement the Millennium Development Goals and increase inclusion by reducing poverty;

5) Developing "Living Christianity” - courses for new and established Christians to build up their faith and understanding with an inclusive perspective;

6) Building and equipping the network of parishes and groups committed to the inclusive Gospel

Clare will be talking more about that after this eucharist.  And none of this of course can be done without money - so I shall be talking about fundraising too.  

But I thought it right to talk  about our hopes for the future;  for we proceed in faith and in love,  trusting in the Holy Spirit which intercedes for us with sighs too deep for words.

A couple of weeks ago I was at a Eucharist when our last hymn from today was sung.  One Church,  One Faith,  One Lord.   And the words of the fourth verse leapt out at me. 

And we, shall we be faithless?

shall hearts fail, hands hang down?

shall we evade the conflict,

and cast away our crown?

Not so: in God's deep counsels

some better thing is stored;

we will maintain, unflinching,

one Church, one Faith, one Lord.

And we, shall we be faithless?

Shall hearts fail,  heads hang down?

I think not.  I have profound and heartfelt thanks for the way in which Inclusive Church has been able to work over the past five years; it's been an honour and a privilege to work alongside so many talented and committed people, and it's certainly transformed the work I've done at home in the parish.   And I have great hope and faith in the future;  because,  in God's deep counsels,  some better thing is stored.  

Maybe that vision of the new heaven and the new earth isn't so far off,  after all;  and maybe what we're all doing to rediscover and reaffirm the inclusive gospel is helping to bring it closer.  

Music.   The music of the spheres.   We're going to have some Mozart now;  the Exsultet.  Because we have a lot to rejoice in,  a lot to be thankful for.   For, to return to the words of the letter to the Romans

I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory about to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the children of God  -  in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 

For all that has been - thanks!  For all that shall be -  yes!

Amen