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.
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