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Bishop of Clogher's Sermon The Second Sunday in Lent, March 8 2009
Bishop of Clogher's Sermon The Second Sunday in Lent, March 8 2009
Holy Communion in St
George’s Cathedral,
Diocese of Jerusalem
Sermon preached by Michael Jackson, bishop of Clogher, Ireland
Readings: Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; psalm 22:23-31; Romans 4:13-23; St Mark 8:31-38
Mark 8.32: Jesus said all this quite openly. And Peter took him aside and
began to rebuke him.
You may remember that, last Sunday, we heard of the covenant made by God with
Noah. This week we hear of the covenant made by God with Abraham. The first
covenant sets out in detail the new relationship between God and creation.
The second covenant sets out in detail the relationship between God and Abraham
and, by extension, all nations. Here we have the opening of a fresh chapter
in the work of God in loving the world into being, in actively restoring to
right relationship everything that is now out of place and in freeing everything
and everyone he loves to live a renewed life. Notice – in Noah - not
only that God’s creation is freed from the cloud of wickedness as represented
in the Tower of Babel. Notice – in Abraham - also that creation is freed
from the scourge and limitation of exclusivity in that a multitude of nations
will flow from this covenant. And nationhood of itself brings the recognition
of diversity as a working model of living. As we know, all too well, we are
only as mature politically as we treat and respect those who differ from us.
Diversity is our friend, not our enemy.
The gift of the future, therefore, is what all creation receives from God
in this type of covenanting. And all of this is entirely in line with the Collect
for Ash Wednesday which we use daily throughout Lent and particularly with
its opening clause:
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing that you have made and forgive
the sins of all those who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite
hearts that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness,
may receive from you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness;
through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Original love is stronger than original sin – and this repeatedly is
the message which we receive and read in the Season of Lent.
In regard to the creation, the challenge of the wilderness annually asks us
if we can see in the deepest tracts of emptiness the seeds of growth. Our world
and the people who inhabit it today is battered by many events and situations,
and at present none more so than the people of this land. The suffering in
human terms which we who are visitors and pilgrims have seen on television
and read in newspapers can only represent a fragment of the range of suffering
endured by people who have become victims by being in the only place they have
to call home at the wrong time. Your own bishop has spoken courageously and
compassionately of the gift of love ‘that gives us strength to respect
the human dignity of all people, Christian, Muslim and Jew alike; we are all
created in the image of God.’ And, in the midst of the human devastation
and escalating violence the bishop went on to say: ‘The world waits in
eager expectation for people of good will, courage and vision to set aside
personal agendas, to encourage the change of heart, to empower all people of
faith to tear down the walls of cruelty, fear and hatred. We cannot diminish
or escape from the challenges before us which are very real and confront our
people. Peace, a just durable peace, is rooted in the reconciling love of God
for all the people of this land.’ The courage of this statement walks
hand in hand with its compassion. It gives the rest of us who, in our own context,
seek to live out this spirit of generosity in the footsteps of the Lord Jesus
Christ that essential gift of love - hope – a hope that God travels with
those who suffer in their suffering and still shows the life and love of the
new creation in the rubble of the old. We hear also of the witness of Al Ahli
Arab Hospital in Gaza City, serving the needs of those whose bodies and minds
have been attacked by fear and suffering, maimed by mortar and masonry – and
again we are so grateful for the common witness in action on the part of dedicated
individuals who give of themselves to those who are brutalized and dehumanized
by war and its catastrophes.
The Orthodox Traditions within Christianity, themselves very much the backbone
of contemporary Jerusalem as we know it and custodians of some of the most
evocative sites in the Old City, are very strong on the importance of creation
in redemption; of the relationship between reconciliation and the poor; and
of Jesus Christ and the cross. Let me quote from a recent popular book on the
Orthodox Tradition entitled Light through Darkness by John Chryssavagis: …‘We
have learned not to treat people like things; we must now learn not to treat
even things like mere things. All of our ecological activities are measured
ultimately by their effect on people, especially upon the poor. And all of
our spiritual activities are judged by their impact on our world, especially
on the environment …’and: ‘There is a price to pay for our
wasting. It is the cost of self-discipline. The balance of the world has been
upturned; it is an ‘outstanding balance’ that can only be countered
by the sacrifice of bearing the cross.’ The second emphasis is taken
up in the Collect of today: Give us grace to discipline ourselves in obedience
to your Spirit; and as you know our weakness, so may we know your power to
save …In both of these extracts we see the wider range of responsibility
which lies on us as stewards of God’s creation: we dare not to distance
ourselves from the part of the creation which, at least until the work of Charles
Darwin whose bicentenary we celebrate this year, we would have thought of as ‘beneath’ ourselves;
as well as being in human solidarity and creative tension with those who are
poor, we need to see that self-discipline is part of solidarity; the enactment
of justice is intimately tied with the sacrifice of cross-bearing.
You who live, worship and witness as Christians in Jerusalem have the unique
privilege of the holy places of history along with the living tradition of
worship – but you also have the pain of suffering which you carry daily.
And so I return to my text from that briefest of Gospels, St Mark, which in
many Manuscripts concludes starkly with the disciples running from the Tomb,
trembling with amazement and saying nothing to anyone because of their acute
fear. St Mark 16.8: (Jesus) said all this quite openly. And Peter took
him aside and began to rebuke him. Mark is quite insistent that there is no way
forward for teacher or disciples without accepting that the Son of man must
undergo great suffering if there is to be resurrection. There is no point in
Peter trying to hope for another way for Jesus or for anyone else. Taking
up the cross at this pivotal point in the Gospel becomes the definition of what
it is to follow and in following to be fulfilled. In this very specific way
do the things of heaven become the things of earth.
It may indeed seem to be no time at all since we were celebrating the things
of heaven becoming the things of earth in an entirely different way, the birth
of Jesus Christ. In fact it was when we were eagerly expecting this arrival,
on Advent Sunday, that I last preached in this Cathedral Church. There we saw
innocent and vulnerability. There we saw kingship and splendour. But there
we also saw myrrh among the gifts of The Wise of the East, prefiguring burial.
Hope and sorrow are but two sides of the one coin – they do not contradict
one another; they co-exist and explain one another.
This thread is drawn also by the very theological Paul who is often what we
might call heavy weather but is also what L’Oreal calls ‘worth
it.’ He draws out from the covenantal relationship between God and Abraham
the thread of invitation leading right to the present and right to the door
of this church: Now the words ‘it was reckoned to him’ were written
not for his sake alone, but for ours also. Let us never forget that we too
are children of Abraham as are our Jewish and Muslim sisters and brothers and
that they too are likewise children of Abraham. The two covenants are ours
within the love of the God who hates nothing that he has made … as the
Collect for Ash Wednesday constantly reminds us throughout Lent. For us as
adopted children of Christ, as the Christmas Collect reminds us, this reckoning
comes through that vital Christian combination of death and resurrection. The
earthly Jesus refused to hide this reality. St Paul refuses to hide this reality.
It is our calling daily to follow and in following to show the way of the cross
in the common things of life.
Date: 8 March 09