So, do not be afraid.
Ordinary Sunday 12: 23rd June, 2002
Fr John Davis, Vicar of St Peter's, Eastern Hill
What are we to make of the news reports about the appointment process for the next Archbishop of Canterbury? Those with access to the web will have been able to see a flurry of activity after the leak to The Times of London on Wednesday announcing, and not having it denied, that the Archbishop of Wales, Rowan Williams, is the first name on the list of two put to the Prime Minister. It is very unusual to have such a leak at this stage of the process. It is also very unusual for the Prime Minister of the day to do anything other than accept the recommendation of the selection committee, although Margaret Thatcher did.
We have a special interest in this matter for various reasons. While of course the Archbishop of Canterbury has no juridical power over the Church here, he is still nonetheless the titular head of our Anglican Communion around the world and the first among equals of its bishops. In things ecumenical the holder of that position would be our chief spokesperson. The position holds considerable powers of influence and persuasion. If we have a leader, then this is who it is.
Certainly the potential appointment of a 52-year-old means that this is no caretaker regime. A top level scholar, teacher and theologian, with 10 years experience as a diocesan bishop, very much in the catholic tradition and willing to grapple with the big issues of the day with honesty, openness and integrity – now that is an archbishop to dream about. He is such an unprelatical prelate. And we have had him here at St Peter's with us so recently. So this makes it even more something worth watching as it unfolds. We await developments. Unlike a couple of weeks ago, it does now seem to be much more likely that this appointment will happen. The quick negative response from some predictable conservative evangelical leaders does not alter the fact that very many would consider the appointment of a person of such clear spiritual strength and personal humility a matter of very great joy and an institutional breath of fresh air. Indeed, many would be utterly amazed that the Anglican Church still had such creativity at work within it!
The question from Ezekiel 37 rings in our ears: Can these bones live? I will leave it right there!
Today's gospel offers its hearers three reasons for not being afraid: God's kingdom will shortly be shown for what it is. No matter what they do, those who would persecute us cannot get to the true life that is ours. God is watching over every aspect of the creation, and certainly that includes us.
This gospel reminds us that God is still here even when things are grim. Even when there is persecution from the outside or dissension from within. When there is personal tragedy or natural calamity. And the words gently and lovingly used by the Lord in this teaching are words describing a micro level awareness and care. And there is an underlying sense of an ultimate justice and setting right of things that will come:
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows". (Mtt 10:29-31)
Yes, those sparrows are still sold. Those sparrows still die, but they are not forgotten before God. This was a text that was used for those facing persecution, which in those early generations very often meant death or being sold into slavery. In that context, like the simple sparrows, these Christians could be sold or maltreated or killed – any many would be – but they would not be forgotten by God. Underlying this too is the presupposition that there are worse things than misfortune, or even physical death. Everything that happens, happens in the sight of God, the one who does not forget; the one who keeps you in his sight. Nothing is secret that will not become known.
This might be easy enough in the abstract, but in the particulars of the living out of actual Christian lives, this can be hard. Only last weekend we ourselves were confronted by the personal tragedy which befell one of our own families. We were not talking about small things there. Here was a life and a grieving family. How does this powerful text today then address both the scope and the limitations of the rule of God in this world of which we all are a part? God's power, God's 'not forgetting', God's valuing of us does not and will not prevent the continuation of pain, suffering, abuse, persecution, injustice and disaster. That is a hard thing to try to grasp and to still be a person of faith.
So we struggle with our concepts of something greater than ourselves and beyond ourselves. We wrestle with definitions and dogmatic statements about the maker of heaven and earth. We grapple with the frustration of limitations: limitations of our own faith, hope and love; limitations of our own perceptions and understanding. We can struggle with the limitations of our own vision – and the yawning chasm that exists between what might be and what is.
But the Christian person has to engage these issues. The purpose is, though, not to try to seek ready answers to all those "why" questions: Questions like
- Why were so many more people blown up at bus stops in Jerusalem this week?
- Why were those people killed in the earthquake in Iran last night?
- Why were those young children shelled in the market place in Jenin?
- Why was Fr Sam's son-in-law murdered?
Even the 'why' question of why does not God 'do something', as we say, about these or any other particulars is not going to get us far.
It was said of Auschwitz:
'In Auschwitz it was very hard indeed to believe in God:
It was impossible to believe in man.'
The gospel today is attempting to replace all those 'why' questions with one 'that' statement. "Yet God is."
This hard gospel about the times of persecution and major sadness or pain, is telling it how it is. An utterly natural human reaction and response to most of these issues and events is to cry foul; to object and to protest; I suppose to beg for the removal of all these limitations in the operation of this world – our own limitations and what we can see as the limitations on God.
The hairs may well be numbered, but they will still fall. The sparrows – not one of them is forgotten – yet they are still sold. And we, yes we will ourselves die and quite possibly ourselves undergo great pain or sadness. BUT, there is a greater context, an overarching providence that is greater than death, and which will in an absolute and ultimate sense, settle accounts with justice.
Remember St Paul's wonderful "What shall separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus" section from Romans, that we so often hear at funerals? Shall any of these terrible things both real and possible achieve this separation? No, says Paul. Amen, says the person of faith and hope. Because God has of course done something about all this, most decisively in the life, teachings, death and resurrection of our Lord.
Words of comfort such as those which are in the gospel today are there to open our eyes to a God whose presence is sometimes more hidden than we would wish. But eyes have been opened through the centuries to this presence, right alongside even in the worst of times. And Christians in every generation have found strength to face death or pain, that most certainly comes from beyond themselves. "Do not be afraid," the Lord says twice in this short passage. The struggle that we are forced to engage in by these issues is indeed fearsome, because it threatens our very faith. So engage we must, as those before us have done in every generation.
"So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows". (Mtt 10:29-31)
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