Sunday 15th September 2024
Isaiah 50:4-9a
Psalm 116: 1-8
James 3:1-12
Mark 8:27 end Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. Yesterday was Ride and Stride. A highlight for me was stepping into Alciston church-there you could sense the peace and presence of God which has drawn generations of pilgrims over more than a thousand years, and strike the pilgrim bell. This gives out the most beautiful resonant single note and as the note echoes around the church for ages and ages you’re invited to empty yourself of all your everyday concerns and worries and settle into the peace of God’s presence, a presence which you can then carry with you for the rest of your journey. As you enter the church there is a quote from Genesis , where Jacob after a vision in the wilderness says, ‘This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven’. Visiting so many churches yesterday brought home to us again and again how much we need our churches to give us space to find our own way to the gate of heaven. And the people who welcomed us, like Diana and Mary here at St. Anne’s played just as an important part in opening the gates of heaven for us weary walkers and riders as the buildings themselves, cheerfully giving their time, their encouragement [and cake!] and expressing the peace and love of God’s presence just as beautifully as the stained glass and ancient stonework.
It may seem strange to begin a sermon by thinking about silence when our readings are about talk, and the importance of words, but one of the reasons for doing Ride and Stride every year is to help preserve spaces where anyone, whatever their faith, or state of mind, whatever their need, can find that very special peace which comes with being immersed in the silence of God’s presence. And there’s so much to distract us from that awareness; James’s warning about the tongue and how it can set things ablaze reminds us that sometimes silence is best; James’s words seem especially relevant when we remember how the race riots this summer were triggered by someone on a computer in Cheshire putting out untrue rumours on social media or when a potential American president can put innocent peoples’ safety in danger by falsely claiming that peoples pets in Ohio are being caught and killed by migrants from Haiti. ‘Noone can tame the tongue’ says James, and he describes all the hurt and pain and distress which we can cause by lying, or slandering. And yet he offers us a challenge; as Christians, he tells us that in our speech we should be like fresh water; by which I think he means clear, life giving and refreshing. In today’s gospel Christ’s own words are themselves life-giving in the most important sense possible, in that they offer us a vision of life with Him at its centre.
The question Jesus asks, ‘Who do people say I am’ is a real challenge for the disciples, who can only think in terms of human prophets; John the Baptist, Elijah… but Jesus has already told them, and us the answer: ‘I am the bread of life’. Peter tells Jesus ‘You are the Messiah’. And then gets the stinging rebuke, ‘Get behind me Satan’ when he protests at hearing that his Messiah will be subjected to suffering and violence. Perhaps Jesus is concerned that Peter may be offering Him the same temptation he was offered in the desert, the temptation to be an all-powerful earthly leader; the temptation associated with seeking earthly things rather than the divine. Jesus needs Peter and us to understand that his form of messiahship involves being present everywhere there is suffering, rejection and pain. Jesus wants Peter, and us, to understand that as messiah he belongs as much in the dark places of our everyday existence as he does in our good times, when everything is radiant with light and hope. We all carry our own personal sadnesses, disappointments, worries and anxieties, and Jesus makes it clear that by following him we can transform our lives, and the worries that unsettle us.
A few weeks ago, in our Gospel reading from John we heard Jesus say, ‘I am the bread of life’, and today He takes us further into understanding what ‘life’ lived with an awareness of Him at its centre means; it means sensing that He is with us as we carry our own burdens, the frustrations, the grievances, the disappointments which weigh us down . Indeed, Jesus makes it clear that that life lived in his knowledge and presence is life in its fullest sense, and that having everything, the dream of a life free of want’ ‘gaining the whole world’ in Jesus’s words, means we risk forfeiting a life blessed with the knowledge and love of God. When we pray the Lord’s prayer and say, ‘Give us this day our daily bread’ we’re praying not just for food to live on, but for the bread of life, the bread which Jesus says, ‘I am’. and for a life which whatever it’s trials and sorrows, is full of God’s presence.
Which brings us back to the silence of Alciston church yesterday, and the steady resonance of that prayer bell, holding us in the peace of a God who knows that we find it difficult to let go of our own needs, to live and speak without causing hurt and pain to others, but who is always present in and around us. A God who can be found not just here and in all those other ancient churches Mary-Rose, Jane and I visited yesterday, but, if we’re prepared to deny ourselves and follow him, in all that we then do and say and think.
In the name of the Father and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen.
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