Mark 6:30-34, 53-56Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me… Amen…
The year was 1373. In the English city of Norwich, a commercial centre with a vibrant religious life, nestled in the rolling greenery of East Anglia. Rattled by the black death and a peasants’ revolt, the city was in turmoil - politically fractured and reeling from the spectre of death. But at St. Julian’s Church, another encounter with death, and with the divine, would leave a mark on the Christian world for centuries to follow… Mother Julian, as she is affectionately called, lived as an anchoress in a cell, a private room, attached to the church. A faithful monastic devoted to prayerful solitude and loving service to God’s people, Julian was poised to have a rather ordinary life in the midst of extraordinary times. But at the age of just 30 years old, Julian fell gravely ill. Bedridden and on the verge of death, her mother and community came to say their goodbyes. On May 8th, a curate administered the last rites of the Church to her, anticipating her death. As he held the crucifix above the foot of her bed, Julian’s sight began to vanish and she felt physically numb. But as she gazed on the crucifix, the light fading from her eyes, she saw the figure of Jesus begin to bleed. Over the course of several hours, Julian would have 15 visions of Jesus, with a 16th to follow the next night… Miraculously, Julian fully recovered from her illness on May 13th, and she quickly took to writing down her visions - a collection now known as Revelations of Divine Love - which is believed to be the earliest surviving English-language works by a woman. I’m reading her work now, as part of an online book club through Canterbury Cathedral, and it is just marvellous - I couldn’t recommend it more! In her visions, Julian records direct conversations she has with Jesus, who shows to her, in a myriad of ways, God’s immense love for her and for all things. Suffering through her own grave illness, and in the midst of a society on edge, Christ speaks to her messages of hope based on the certainly of being loved by God and of being protected by his Providence. Even when consumed by sin, God loves us as a mother loves her child, and for this love Christ gave himself to suffer and die for our sins. In a soft echo of St. Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, specially the verses we heard today, Julian describes how, in our two natures, God finds a dwelling place in the human heart and soul - with the body itself, however temporary it is, built as a temple to the Lord… Mother Julian, I must admit to you, is one of my favourite people in the history of the Church. When the Covid-19 panic erupted, and many of us found ourselves confined to our homes, I found great solace in knowing that I was not alone - that in our history there were those who lived in confinement and solitude, and still encountered the overwhelming love of God… As I watch the news, and as I doom scroll through my social media feeds, I see such an obvious need for healing, for divine love, in our nation today. For as many of us as are sick personally, there is an even more prevailing sickness in our national discourse. A sickness that leads to division of families and communities. A sickness that pits folks against one another. A sickness that inspires violent protests and riots…. A sickness that leads to a troubled young man trying to kill a former president… And a sickness that compels some people to call for revenge, and retribution…. Many a people have tried to diagnose this sickness, this disease. Many chalk it up to political polarisation, or to the bombardment of social media and the news media, or to failing community structures and our economic system, or to so many other things. And those all are good to point out, but from where I stand, those look to me to be more like symptoms than the underlying cause. And to be honest, these are symptoms that should have been identified long ago. If you watch the news, many a commentator are comparing the national climate of this year to that of 1968. Economic change, foreign wars, an unpopular president, college protests, and assassinations and assassination attempts. Historians and others are always quick to point out that there is nothing new under the sun, and when one looks back in time that certainly seems to be true… So if it is true, if these are reoccurring symptoms of a disease that afflicts us, that afflicts the body politic … what is the cause? Some would say that sin is to blame - that sin is the disease… And I would have to agree with them. But not the kind of sin that is railed against from some pulpits. It’s not the sin that festers from being bound to the law - the kind of sin that Paul writes about to the Ephesians. Because the law, the measure of holiness before Jesus, only further divided society. As Lutherans we believe as Paul did, that Christ is the fulfilment of the law and in his life, death, and resurrection we are justified by faith through grace. And this grace isn’t just for some, for those who do or don’t do x, y, and z. That would still imply we are shackled to the law. ‘But now in Christ Jesus’, Paul says, ‘you who once were far off have been brought near by the blood of Christ’… The law convicts, but the Gospel saves. Throughout our whole human history, from before the time of Jeremiah through to the present, we as humans have fallen into the sinful pattern of division. Our readings today invoke for us the image of our communities, our nation, moving about in the world like a flock of sheep without a shepherd. And this is a very familiar image for us. But we’re not just any sheep - we’re sick sheep. We have, as individuals and as communities, fallen prey to the power of sin in our world. Its power to corrupt the body with illness, but also its power to corrupt our relationships. We live, as ever, people like the crowds before the prophet Jeremiah, looking for someone to lead them. We live, as ever, people like the Ephesians, divided over interpretations of the law. But in the midst of a world full of sin, God calls us to faith in Jesus Christ. He calls us to be those people in our Gospel passage, who in recognising the love of God in Jesus, flock to him for healing mercies. As Christians, redeemed in the waters of baptism but living in the midst of a fallen world, we are called by God to rise above division, to rise above despair, and instead proclaim a message of hope to a world that desperately needs to hear it… We are simultaneously two kinds of people. Each of us, at one time or another, has been the person rushing about, caring for the sick and those in need. And at one time or another, we have been sick or in need ourselves, reaching for the fringe of Jesus’s cloak, hoping to touch it… We see in our society, so plagued with the sickness of sin, a real need to heal and be healed, together… And that can seem like a momentous challenge, in the midst of all that is going on around us. So many of us already carry so much. But we must remember that as Christian people, we do nothing without the love and strength of God…. In her feebleness, in her near death state, Julian heard the promise of God. Rather than the fringe of his cloak, it was the love of Jesus on the cross that healed her and made her whole… One of my favourite parts from her revelations is such a beautiful image, and I’d like to share it with you in closing. ‘Also in this he showed me a little thing, the quantity of a hazelnut, in the palm of my hand; and it was round as a ball. I looked thereupon with eye of my understanding, and thought: what may this be? And it was answered generally thus: It is all that is made. I marvelled how it might last, for I thought it might suddenly have fallen naught for littleness. And I was answered in my understanding: It lasts, and ever shall last for that God loves it. And so all-things have their being by the love of God’. In the midst of her suffering, in her questioning of why sin runs rampant in and around her, Christ shows her a hazelnut. So tiny, so seemingly insignificant, and yet still holding within it the immensity of God’s creation and love. And if this is incapsulated in a hazelnut, imagine the immensity of God’s love for each and every one of us. She goes on to question God about sin, and illness, and strife, and God answers her with this: ‘Thou shalt not be overcome’. It was ‘said clearly and mightily, and assuredness and comfort against all tribulations that may come. He didn’t say, thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be afflicted; but he said thou shalt not be overcome. God wills that we take heed to these words, and that we be ever strong in sure trust, in weal and woe. For he loves and enjoys us, and so wills he that we love and enjoy him and mightily trust in him; and all shall be well’. In the midst of sin, sin that afflicts our bodies and our society, sin that seeks to divide and destroy, we would be wise to pray into what people like Julian have shared with us. Through her visions, through the teaching of holy Church, and above all in holy Scripture itself, we are reminded of the immensity of God’s love for us - love that bonds us to one another, and is made known to us even in the smallness of a hazelnut. Let us pray that through the cross, through the life, death, and resurrection of Christ, we will be healed from all that afflicts us, and know that … all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well… In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit… Amen… |
sermons
By Vicar Larry Herrold, Jr.
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