Second Sunday before Lent 2022

 

The Bible is a library of works, written from different perspectives, in diverse moments in history, and interpreted by faith communities that are, if anything, even more diverse and dispersed. One of the things that holds all this together, that provides unity to the diversity, is a shared commitment to the idea that everything we experience is, to borrow a phrase from John of the Apocalypse, an open door through which God’s reign is revealed.

The Old Testament reading this Sunday is Genesis 2:4b–9, 15–25. In it, God creates a human from the soil, plants a garden in the middle of which are the tree of life and the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and creates a second human, to be a deliverer, from one side of the first. I want to suggest, as I have done before, that this is not an explanation of human origins, but a late story that helps make sense of lived experience when parts of the Jewish community were returning from exile in Babylon, and others were not. I want to suggest that Eden represents Babylon; the man Adam represents the Neo-Babylonian empire, and their greatest king, Nebuchadnezzar II; the woman Eve represents the Achaemenid empire, founded by Cyrus the Great, who overthrew the Neo-Babylonians, restored the honour of Babylon’s traditional creator god and his servant, a talking dragon or serpent, and declared an edict allowing the Jews to return to Jerusalem. I want to suggest that the tree of life represents the Lord God, who accompanies his people into exile; and that the tree of the knowledge of good and evil represents the Jewish exiles, who know good from evil on account of having been given the Law. For as long as the kings of Babylon did not lay violent hands on the Jews living in their midst, they would know the Lord God’s blessing; but should they be tempted to consume the fruit of this tree, say in a fiery furnace or an enclosure of lions, the hand of the Lord would be against them. Meanwhile, the call of God’s people was to stay close to God, and to be present in the midst of the peoples to teach them right from wrong. Though Adam and Eve are evicted from the garden, the trees are not removed. Likewise, not all the exiles return to Jerusalem. Whether in Jerusalem or Babylon or Susa or Alexandria or Rome, wherever they may now find themselves, the call of God’s people was to stay close to God, and to be present in the midst of the peoples to teach them right from wrong.

Our New Testament reading this Sunday is Revelation 4:1-11. John, in exile on the island of Patmos, is given a vision of the throne room of heaven. God is seated on a throne that reminds us of Mount Sinai, on which the Law was given; before which there is a sea, reminiscent of the Sea God parted to bring his people out from captivity in Egypt. Over the throne is a rainbow, symbol of God’s covenant with all creation. Around it there are twenty-four thrones and twenty-four elders, representing the tribes of Israel and the disciples, the people of Israel and the Church. Then there are four living creatures: a gigantic lion, a gigantic bull, a gigantic man, and a gigantic eagle; creatures common to the mythologies of the Greco-Roman empire. Think the Nemean lion and Cretan bull, first and seventh labours of Heracles. Think second-generation Titan (giant) Prometheus, punished by Zeus for favouring humans, chained to a rock, and condemned to have his regenerating liver eaten day after day by the eagle, emblem of Zeus, until at last, some say, Heracles rescued him. But in John’s vision, these archetypal Greco-Roman creatures are united in worshipping the God of the Jewish people, as ‘holy, holy, holy’ or perfectly set apart from all other gods and heroes, an entirely separate category of being, before all gods, above all gods, enduring beyond all gods. And, considering this, the call of God’s people — now incorporating Gentiles as well as Jews — is to worship God as creator of all things.

Our Gospel reading this Sunday is Luke 8:22-25. It is an episode in the life of Jesus and his disciples, and I have no doubt that it took place. But the question is, how does nearly drowning in a storm on the lake open a door onto heaven? By which I do not mean that death is a door to the afterlife, but how does this crisis reveal the reign of God in our daily lives?

I want to suggest that whenever we come across a boat in the Gospels, it represents the Church, the community Jesus builds starting with Simon Peter the fisherman and Andrew and James and John. Jesus comes to them in their everyday lives, and this is where he is revealed to them. This is where they come to believe that he is Master, and that they can trust him explicitly, with their very lives. The lake represents lived experience, which is at times calm and the place of a fruitful contribution to society, and at other times overwhelming in its chaos. And it can turn from one to the other very quickly, without warning. The lake is also the meeting-point between different cultures, which itself can be a cause of friction.

In this boat, Jesus is so completely at home that he, being tired, can fall asleep. There is an incredible level of trust and confidence in this, which, I would have to note, several of you would appear to share, dozing off during the sermon. Meanwhile, a strong wind rushes down from the surrounding hills, from the surrounding and at times conflicting cultures, and the waves rise up, and in the original Greek telling of this story what we are told is that the boat is filling up completely with water. There is in the telling a sense of completeness, of being filled as fulfilling. The sense that the boat is, in fact, intended to be filled to the brim with water. Which should be a disturbing thought, as it certainly was for the fishermen, who knew a thing or two about boats and about how important it is for the water to stay outside of the boat. But Jesus carries on sleeping. The boat does not, in fact, capsize or sink. The disciples draw near to Jesus — who is asleep — and as they draw near, they discover that Jesus has authority over the wind and the waves, that the wind and the waves listen to him and understand him and obey him. And I wonder whether it is simply the words Jesus says directly to them that the wind and the waves hear and obey, or whether they are already listening and understanding. Whether the wind and the waves hear Jesus’ breath, the rise and fall of his breast, and understand that he is sleeping, and know that whatever else may go on, this boat is not going down. The wind and the waves are for the benefit of the disciples, to reveal something to them.

The tree in the middle of the garden. The elders in the middle of the living creatures. The boat in the middle of the lake. Three images, three descriptions of God’s people in the middle of the peoples. And the boat does not sink. Indeed, the boat can take on board, can hold all the drama going on around it and still be the safest place to be, not because the boat is a good boat but because Jesus is in the boat.

Let me be clear. I know many people who have got out of the boat, who have walked away from the Church. Some of them have left on account of there being too much drama going on inside the boat, because of the way in which some of the other disciples, often led by Peter, have tried to contain the wind, or throw out the water bucket by bucket. Some have walked away from the faith of the Church on account of having experienced a shrill and faithless Church. Others have needed to find another boat in which to continue following Jesus, just as in the Gospels themselves we see other boats following Jesus. At the Minster we have recently started a new space for some who have been hurt by the Church in the past. To those who have walked away entirely, I would always support and encourage anyone leaving an abusive relationship, whether the abuser is an individual or a community. I confess that the Church has not always lived up to our calling, must repent and seek God’s forgiveness and the grace to amend our common life.

That important caveat said, the Church as universal community that bears witness to what God is doing in the world in and through the person of Jesus, the Church as it is called to be, the Church does not sink. When the storms blow over our lives, the Church holds us in the knowledge that Jesus is found trustworthy in our lived experience again and again across continents and down through the centuries. And again, today, we are encouraged to stay close to God, as God is revealed to us perfectly in Jesus. And through our worship to renew our trust and hope in him as the one through whom and for whom God has created all things and is reconciling all things. So may our worship be joyful. When the wind blows, may it fill our lungs to sing, and may the song be a lullaby to fear and a stirring tune to courage.

 

The Collect (prayer) for the Second Sunday before Lent:

Almighty God,
you have created the heavens and the earth
and made us in your own image:
teach us to discern your hand in all your works
and your likeness in all your children;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who with you and the Holy Spirit reigns supreme over all things,
now and for ever.
Amen.

 

Fourth Sunday before Lent 2022

 

Luke 5:1-11

Our Gospel reading today is taken from Luke chapter 5. We are in a part of Luke’s Gospel—that is, his presentation of the good news concerning Jesus—where Luke is giving us a broad and general sense of Jesus’ Galilean ministry. He gathers up accounts from eyewitnesses, like scooping up fish in a net: ‘Once while…’ ‘once, when…’ ‘one day, while…’ ‘one sabbath while…’ ‘on another sabbath…’ ‘Now during those days…’ (5:1, 12, 17; 6:1, 6).

There is also, here, a sense of movement, out from. Jesus is driven out of Nazareth, up on the hillside, and went down to Capernaum, on the lakeside (4:28-31). There, Jesus sends out, or away, an unclean demon from a man in the synagogue (4:31-37), and a fever, from Simon’s mother-in-law (4:38-41). Jesus himself then goes out, first into a deserted place, and then to the surrounding towns (4:42-44). And in our Gospel passage for today, Jesus takes his stand on the shore of the lake; but, even having taken his stand, is taken hold of, and pushed back, out, must seek temporary shelter in Simon’s empty boat. Jesus asks Simon to ‘put out a little way from the shore,’ and then to ‘Put out into the deep water’—and Peter pleads with Jesus to go away from him, before leaving everything and following Jesus. So, there is an outward movement at play here, in relation to many of the characters we are encountering.

Alongside this, there is a recurring theme of Jesus’ engagement with sinners. Simon asks Jesus to go away from him because he, Simon, is a sinful man. But Jesus does not go away. Instead, he responds, ‘Do not be afraid.’ Or, to a paralysed man, by saying, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you’ (5:17-26). Or to the tax collectors and sinners by eating and drinking with them (5:27-31). Those describing themselves, or being described by others, as ‘sinners’ are understood by all to fall short of what God expects of us. But Jesus’ response, in keeping with his mission ‘to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour’ (4:18, 19) suggests that God does not share this assessment at all. That sense of falling short is not of God. Rather, the Spirit of the Lord has anointed Jesus to bring release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed. That sense of falling short of God’s expectations holds us captive, distorts our vision—of ourselves, and others—and empowers oppression. Jesus calls Simon to leave it all behind—his disappointment and frustration over an entire night’s fishing without anything to show for it; his sense of being overwhelmed and of personal inadequacy in the face of a large catch; his shame—to leave it all behind and follow him.

Much of what Simon is doing in these verses is familiar. He knows what it is to put in a shift at work with nothing to show for it, not because he falls short as a fisherman but because work—even work we are good at, even work we are committed to—is often boring and frustrating. He knows what it is to do the repetitive work of cleaning his nets, and he knows what it is to be interrupted in his work by someone who wants to ask something of him or borrow something from him. These things are familiar to Simon, and familiar to us.

And when Jesus asks Simon to do overtime, to put in back-to-back shifts, Simon calls him ‘Master.’ The word, Epistata, means, the one who has legal ownership, and, as such, is fully authorised to give commands. Simon is saying, ‘Jesus, my boat is your boat, my nets are your nets; this lake is your lake; this day, at the end of a long night, is your day.’ As we (sometimes) proclaim when we gather-up the offerings of the people, ‘All things come from you, and of your own do we give you.’ The work that contributes to my sense of identity, of perceived worth or lack of worth. My means of production, or contribution to society. My life is yours.

What, then, might the Spirit of God want to say to the people of God in this place on this day? Are you worn out, tired, weary to the bone? Are you frustrated, or disappointed, or even ashamed of who you think that you are or how you feel that you have, or may yet, let others down? Do you feel out-of-your depth, in any part of your life? Whether it is in relation to work, or family, or illness, or growing old, I know that you do; that, one way or another, we can relate to Simon, as he listens to Jesus while washing his nets.

It is striking that it is the empty boat, the empty net, the empty lake that Jesus takes and transforms. Things and places and circumstances and people who appear to fall short of our expectations turn out to be the very things and places and circumstances and people that God-with-us is looking for. ‘Do not be afraid,’ Jesus says. This may not be what you expected life would look like, but this is where we are. Where we are; and I am Master.

We are only a month into 2022 and already it is clear that the year ahead is going to stretch us beyond our resources. Yet the good news is that it is also the year of the Lord’s favour. In Jesus, always the year of the Lord’s favour. Lay down your hopes and fears and follow him.