If you are a very early riser on a Sunday morning you could have switched on your Radio – not to tune into Chris Bard on radio Essex – but to the beginning of broadcasts on Radio 4.  At 5.43, for two minutes, you would have heard the sound of Church Bells. BBC Radio 4 always begins its Sunday broadcasts this way and the recordings are of bells taken from churches throughout the country.  The sound of bells has always been part of Sunday making it special in some ways from the rest of the week. In earlier times this special-ness included going to Church and, in this, of course, the sound of church bells is a call to worship.

Sadly this is not quite as popular as it used to be and most of the people who heard our church bells this morning either turned over in bed, perhaps pulling the blankets over their ears, or alternatively leapt out of bed in order to be the first at Tesco’s when they open their doors in a few minutes time.  We might be forgiven for wondering about what is happening to Sunday as, increasingly it becomes a day of activity, of sport, of shopping. The latest move by the Government to increase the number of hours people may shop is yet another nail in Sunday’s coffin – though, of course, it is a natural progression in a nation whose economy relies on consumer spending to keep things afloat.  We can argue that to be able to shop or play/watch sport on Sunday is a good thing. Often it is a family thing and families spending time in each other’s company is very important.  But of course, there is a down-side. In order for us to enjoy all the benefits of the Sunday Leisure trade or our shopping binge, others have to work to cater for our needs. Others have to lead even busier lives.

We often complain these days that we are getting busier and busier. Life is lived, by many, at a frantic pace and we wonder just how we are going to fit everything in.

Clergy are as bad as everyone else, with their full diaries and endless meetings – how damming it is when someone, who clearly needs to talk, says to the Vicar, “I didn’t want to bother you, I know how busy you are.”  I always cringe when I hear that because it’s an image we can so easily pander to,  believing, somehow that our effectiveness is measured by how much we do.  I remember well some advice given to me as a Theological student by a wise teacher. He suggested that we should put aside an afternoon a week to sit in our gardens and let people know we are there so they can just pop in to chat.

Well, I have to confess that my belief in this wisdom has not often been translated into action – though perhaps tea with the Rector is a small beginning and I am delighted that the ministry of James Dodd now includes a regular Friday slot in this Church when people can just pop in to talk.  At the heart of all this activity there is what has been called the Protestant Work Ethic.  This was a term first coined by a German political economist and sociologist, Max Weber. It is a view of life which commends hard work and self-discipline as a means to material prosperity. It is called ‘Protestant’ because it grew out of the Puritan ideal that hard work, perfection and goodness, are biblical teachings which help to build up a Christian Society.

It also takes note of the passage in Genesis where God chastises Adam for disobeying him when he and Eve tasted of the forbidden fruit  in the Garden of Eden. Amongst the punishments God is said to have meted out was that Adam would toil on the barren land and ‘in the sweat of your face you shall eat bread” (Gen 3:19)  A view grew up in Puritan times that the only way we could correct Adam’s sin – known as the Original Sin – was by hard work, self-effacement and godly discipline. Those who worked hard received God’s grace. Those who didn’t were denied it! Sadly, this also led to a belief that God’s grace was not a gift but had to be earned – which goes against the nature of God as the giver of unconditional love.

Many Christian communities took the Work Ethic to heart but soon added to in the belief that material prosperity, both personal and national depended upon it. The more prosperous a person or a nation became, the more it was a sign of Godliness.  This rather left the poor out in the cold and 19^th century Britain became a nation divided between the have and the have-nots, wedded to a class system which ensured the survival of the fittest and the creation of a multi-tiered society which allowed for exploitation – not least of the workers who, above all others, actually practiced the Work Ethic  It did, of course, allow for the growth of philanthropy and charity where the ruling classes could play Lord and Lady Bountiful – which  many  saw as their way of earning a place in heaven. So, the Victorians built vast churches which might well glorify God but often, too, glorified the patrons who built them. If you added a bit of charitable work then heaven was assured.

In one of my last parishes, I was a trustee of a Victorian Charity chaired by  the local landowner , which twice a year dolled out small grants to supposed ‘poor’ people so that they could buy an extra crust at Christmas and extra sun-cream in summer. We sat in judgement on the recipients, basking in their glowing letters of deep gratitude, firmly believing that our £65 had really made a difference. We recorded this in our deeply grained leather book and perhaps we rather hoped that God would take a facsimile copy to use in our favour when we reached the pearly gates.  I am over-egging the pudding, of course. Victorian England saw some of the most heroic people who gave genuine and sacrificial service without thought of reward but I still think of Josiah Greenhalgh of Oldham who, every time he gave from his bounty insisted that the local Scout Band marched him to Church so that everyone would know of his philanthropy.

In the 21^st Century, of course, we do things differently. We mount campaigns to ‘Make a Difference’ and our broad sweep of philanthropy has taken on a global significance.

I do applaud this but I also hear, lurking in the back of my mind, some words of St. Ambrose –

God created the universe in such a manner that all in common might derive their food from it, and that the earth should also be a property common to all… It is not from your own goods that you give to the beggar; it is a portion of his own that you are restoring to him. The earth belongs to all. So you are paying back a debt….

Perhaps I have strayed a little from my thoughts about the Work Ethic but actually, what I have been saying is a consequence of it.  Another consequence, of equal importance is that we all too often describe ourselves by what we do.  It is as if our lives have no meaning without our being able to say what work we perform.

I bet some of you fall into the same trap that I do at parties or gatherings – when we meet someone new we start by asking them what they do. For some people this is really about networking – the underlying question being – ‘Can what you do be of use to me? If so I must butter you up.”  But if we say, ‘I’m a priest, a teacher, a nurse, a doctor, a journalist, a milkman’ – it doesn’t really describe us at all. Wouldn’t it be better to say we are a human being who thinks in a certain way and has all sorts of interesting things to say about this and that and get involved in all sorts of things that have nothing to do with work.

How do you want to be remembered when you die?  Here lies so and so who worked every hour God sent and we don’t know anything else about them. They had no time to share themselves with others because they never found time to discover who they were.  Or would you prefer something like this obituary offered by Rabbi Jonathan Sachs in his book  to Heal a Fractured World?

The deceased was a supportive husband or wife, a loving parent, a loyal friend. They did good to others,  often quietly, discreetly, without ostentation. When you needed them they were there. They shouldered their responsibilities to the community. They gave to charitable causes, and if they could not give money, they gave time. Those most mourned and missed were not the most successful, rich or famous. They were the people who enhanced the lives of others. These were the people who were loved.

Once at a  Diocesan Youth Weekend in the North East, we asked the young people to write their own obituary. How would they like to be remembered? When they had done it we asked them the question – What has to happen, to change, for that obituary to come true.

It’s a good question. The answer includes facing another question – Who am I?  We won’t find that answer in the Protestant Work Ethic.  Here’s a clue where we might find an answer:

There was someone who worked every hour God sent. He had no choice. On Monday he made light and dark- Day and Night.  On Tuesday he made heaven and on Wednesday he made earth and sea and filled it with lots of good nature things; On Thursday he made the Sun, the Moon and the Stars;  On Friday he had an exciting day making all sorts of creatures, fishes, animals, birds. On Saturday he made men and women.  No one who has ever lived has worked as hard as this – and then, on Sunday, he rested.  And when one of his people asked him one day who he was, he said:
"I AM WHO I AM" – not, you will note, I do what I do.

If we are to discover who we are then we need to stop from time to time and rest – re-create; allow ourselves to be re-created .

When the disciples, in today’s Gospel came back from being very busy, Jesus immediately said to them:

Come away to a deserted place all by yourselves and rest awhile.

That is his invitation to us. It’s actually why we have Sunday and why on Sunday we come to Church – to rest awhile with God; to sink into the cosy armchair which is His love for us; to sit and chat in prayer and to sing round heaven’s fire-side, and simply enjoy being with God, and with each other.

That’s what the bells have called us to this morning, and every Sunday.  If, when we hear them, we know that this is our special time when God re-creates us by his love, then we might just be turning the Work Ethic on its head and start to live by Grace – which is God’s very special ingredient in our lives which makes us truly us and truly special.

Keep Sunday Special is a campaign slogan. Let’s re-write it – let’s keep ourselves special for Sunday because then we will perhaps discover we are always special to God and He to us. We don’t have to do a thing to prove it. We’ll  just know.