Below is the text of my sermon delivered at St Aldhelm’s on Sunday 16th September 2018. The appointed Bible readings were James 3, 1-12 and Mark’s Gospel, 8, 27-38.
What a crazy thing is a life! Even just one week may contain so many aspects and portions. Since we last met on this the Lord’s Day, how many experiences have come our way, unbidden and unexpected; how many conversations; how many dreams (and if not nightmares then very likely some shuddering uneasiness on awaking); how many occasions when it seemed happiness was there just beyond a shifting cloud, others when dark anguish or sadness seemed set in to last? And we, each week, each moment, can only live forwards. Whatever has happened will shape and influence but never entirely condition our future. And although we remind ourselves to do the opposite, in fact no one can ever really ‘expect the unexpected.’ But it happens all the time…
Christianity is no panacea for life’s confusions. It does not give us certainty where before was uncertainty. But the Christian faith I think encourages and enables us to live it more honestly, more humbly, more hopefully – perhaps more generously, even more sacrificially, too. Christianity is not an easy path but it leads to life lived more fully.
Today’s readings give us both practical tools and something of a template to help us maintain perspective even amid this giddiest of mysteries: which is, being human, made of earth stuff yet with a nostalgia and longing for heaven.
In today’s second reading, from the Gospel of St Mark, we find ourselves with the group of young women and men travelling in company with Jesus. They are having the time of their lives, but don’t understand what lies ahead (why should they? – they are young.) What lies ahead is the way of the cross. Meanwhile, they argue of course, bicker, fall out, get jealous, feel left out at times, are sometimes arrogant, sometimes playing for position or control. If such doesn’t describe for you an aspect of the average Church of England church and its membership then you and I belong to different versions of Christianity. Just let’s remember that through it all – as for the disciples – something miraculous, amazing, transformative is happening. Love is come among us. God abides with us. Christ dwells with us and indwells us. Never underestimate the impact of what is happening here and in countless local churches.
Their journey and their awakening to the reality of that journey with Christ is not a linear progression. Nor is it for us. Peter represents us all. By turns insightful, and obtuse; committed and fearful; strong and scared. In today’s reading, speaking for his friends and inspired by the Holy Spirit, he declares beautifully that Jesus is the Messiah, the one sent to save his people. Jesus promptly explains the implications of such a mission: the Son of Man must suffer, and be executed as a criminal, and then rise again. Peter, perhaps in panic or indignation, rebukes Jesus. He just doesn’t get it. And in turn Jesus rebukes him. From being way up there, Peter falls right down here.
It’s a pattern I guess many of us can recognise and identify with. One day we get things right, or things happen well, there seems to be a following wind – and we well-nigh fly. The next day, we make a mess, old failings flourish again, we wade through the advancing waters – and we well-nigh sink. It seems to be a template that is written into the New Testament. Someone described it beautifully at the Bible Reflection group several of us attended on Thursday at Westbourne Roman Catholic Church. She reminded us of Alice in her Adventures in Wonderland. She tumbles down the rabbit hole, falling helplessly. She gains her bearings and discovers the tiny door leading to the beautiful garden, but she is too big to enter. She drains the bottle saying ‘Drink Me’ and shrinks. But then she is unable to reach the key left back on the table. She eats the cake labelled ‘Eat Me’ and grows to giant proportions. The white rabbit’s fan allows her to shrink once more. She enters the garden but the bewildering alternation of shrinkage and growth continue through several more stages of her journey. So it is for Peter, and for each of us. Our journey of becoming at home in God’s Kingdom seems to entail a similar kind of yoyo experience: we are humbled and brought low, we are exalted and raised up. In the case of most of us here, I think it is likely this process will not yet have concluded. But do not fear. We are in good company, with Peter and all the disciples and women close to Jesus.
Such is the template for our life with and in Christ. The first reading, from that eminently practical and realistic saint, James, provides some practical wisdom for all of us on such a journey. What is one of the most distinctive attributes of human beings that marks them out from other animals? Is it not our capacity, our wondrous gift of words? Other animals have their means of communicating. They exceed us in some of their abilities. But no other animal can use words to complain, praise, explain an idea, question, amuse, bore, woo, pray, lament, protest, betray, apologise, forgive… The tongue is the most powerful, the most positive and the most dangerous and damaging of our members. ‘With it we bless the Lord and Father and with it we curse those who are made in the image of God.’
Last week in this service we undertook an experiment when we came to the exchange of the Peace. You responded with such spirit and spontaneity to my challenge – to find someone whose name you didn’t know and discover it. A beautiful, almost party-like spirit swept through the church. It seemed a shame to draw it to a close. Thank you, St Aldhelm’s, you really are amazing! Today my challenge is different and perhaps harder. We won’t exchange the Peace. Instead I will invite us all to think of someone we have offended or diminished by our words or (or ‘and’) to think of one whose words have wounded, bewildered, betrayed or belittled us. In that moment of reflection and intention we may resolve to repent of our unkind words and also forgive others their unkind words that have diminished us. (Such a work of repentance and forgiveness is not easy. Today’s challenge may suggest some difficult conversations we might have to make. Equally, such a process is sometimes best left unsaid until God’s Spirit of love shows us the way.)
One day this past week I awoke feeling rather groggy and as if hung over. I hadn’t drunk any alcohol but the previous day had been rather difficult and chairing the Church Council in the evening (a lovely but quite large and diverse group) had been demanding. At the end of Morning Prayer the two of us present had rung the Angelus and as I left church I felt my mobile vibrate with a received text. It was from someone who works at the school, a mile away, who had heard the bell and wanted to thank me, explaining how helpful it was to know that Morning Prayer was being said on behalf of all the parish. We are humbled and brought low…we are encouraged and raised up.
May this Eucharist be a swinging low of God’s mercy and forgiveness lifting us up again, turning our faces to the sunshine, helping us live life forwards knowing that when we look back, there is God…when we look around, there too is God…when we look ahead there is God, beckoning. And may our words, thought or spoken, help not hinder ourselves and others in this costly, hard and wonderful path we tread with Christ.
Pip the Vic 