Sermon at St John’s for All Saints Sunday, 5th November 2017
Kindle in our hearts, O God, the flame of love that is never extinguished. May it burn in us and give light to others. May we shine forever in your presence, and reflect the light of your glory, which dispels all darkness; through Jesus Christ, the light of the world. Amen
Today is All Saints Sunday, a time when the Church celebrates the great witness of the saints, and our fellowship with them, in the timeless worship of God – in heaven and on earth. But it is also, here at St John’s, the start of a year dedicated to prayer, deepening our experience of God; and so I want to link the two, thinking about the witness of the saints, before going on to open up prayer more widely, at the start of this year.
So what do the saints have to teach us about prayer; about daring to live with God at the centre; and how might their witness enlarge our understanding of prayer: of abiding in the presence of God, whose light and love sustains the universe?
Saints, of course, were not originally especially holy people, set apart by their miracles or inspirational teaching, but all Christians (in New Testament times), set apart by their baptism and made holy by their call and commitment to Christ. Hence Paul’s frequent references, in his Letters, to the saints of God who are ‘in Christ Jesus’. And I’m sure we all know people, often unsung heroes, who have been saints to us, radiating the love of Christ in particular ways.
But over time, the Church came to label certain exemplary Christians specifically as saints and these have much to say to us about our relationship with God, and what it means – at its most transparent – to live the Gospel, following the way of Christ.
So what is it, I wonder, at its most raw and transformative, that the saints have to teach us about prayer, about living the Christian way? For in the end, if you really want to live prayer, you can’t separate the two: your prayer from how you live you daily life, because the two are intimately linked – our prayer (our relationship with God) is always rooted in the particularities (the joys and sorrows) of daily life; this is where God comes to us. So what do the saints have to reach us?
Our first clue comes to us from today’s Gospel, the Beatitudes; those cryptic words of Jesus – so easily misunderstood – which attempt to convey what living God’s Kingdom is really all about.
The beatitudes of Jesus, uttered at the start of his ministry, seem to describe those qualities of heart and mind that are to belong to followers of Christ. They are a profound and surprising commentary on what it means to live differently, with God at the centre; and we cannot even attempt to do this unless we are people of prayer – people rooted in a living conversation or encounter (whatever form this takes, whether with words or in deep silence) with the living God.
‘Blessed are the poor in spirit’ Jesus says, ‘for theirs is the kingdom of heaven… Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled. Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.’
Let’s not misunderstand this. Jesus is not saying here that misfortune, hunger and sadness are a good thing – although we know this is the lot of many Christians around the world - after all elsewhere Jesus makes clear that He has come that we might have life, life in all its fullness. Rather what Jesus seems to be saying here is that to be a disciple, a person of prayer and risk-taking generosity, you need to have an emptiness, a ‘discontent with the world’, which only God can fill.
In other words, the saints remind us, it is not prosperity, comfort and popularity – desirable as they may be – in the end that will lead us to God, but more often than not inward poverty, restlessness and experience of suffering, that will provide a door-way into a deeper and more abundant life in God, where true joys are to be found. Such is the upside down character of God’s kingdom that very often only real life experience – if we allow it – breaks us open to receive its hidden riches. This is what the saints show us. As Simon Weil, the wartime French Christian writer & activist wrote, ‘Love of God is pure when joy and suffering inspire an equal degree of gratitude… we must not wish for the disappearance of our troubles, but for grace to transform them.’
For we all have an inner thirst for God, a deep hidden yearning for intimacy with God – a mark engraved in our souls to draw us towards him.
And it is this thirst (this inner yearning), the saints tell us, if we allow ourselves to sense it (without distractions), which motivates our life of prayer, because it opens us up to the light and fire of God’s love. The question is, are we prepared (as the saints were) to really listen to what God is saying to us? Turning aside, to become aware of God’s presence with us, and daring to believe that He loves us, that He speaks to us and is ultimately trustworthy, as we dare to follow Him with all our heart and mind and soul and strength.
And for those on that journey – all of us, who are baptised members of the Body of Christ, who seek to talk to Him and to follow him – our other two readings give us just the tiniest glimpse of what this journey looks like & where it’s headed.
In Revelation we are given a picture or foretaste of what it means to worship God, with our sights focused on Jesus, the Lamb at the centre of our worship, who is our shepherd, guiding us to springs of living water, and (it says) ‘God will wipe away every tear from our eyes... and we will hunger and thirst no more.’
In 1 John we are given that same metaphor of seeing more clearly, when we’re assured, that (one day) ‘we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.’ In other words our eyes, the eyes of our heart will be opened, and we will recognise the true nature of things, and find our place, loving and serving and worshipping God. As St Paul writes in Ephesians, ‘with the eyes of our hearts enlightened, you [will] know what is the hope to which he has called you, the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints.’
So we’ve heard, then, about the witness of the saints, living with God at the centre; we’ve heard about prayer arising out of an inner yearning for God – a God who opens our eyes to His presence, who always speaks to us; a God who is both fire and light.
So let me finish, then, as we launch, today, this year of focus on prayer, with one or two other metaphors of prayer, to whet our appetite for the journey that lies ahead for each of us, as we seek to follow– with God at the centre –to experience, more deeply, open to what God has in store for each one of us.
Prayer is like water or ocean, in that we are all surrounded by God’s Spirit, and yet so often we ignore it or forsake it. As one poet says, ‘All that we do is touched by ocean, yet we remain on the shore of what we know.’ It’s almost as it prayer, which can be quite natural to children – but adults often find so hard – cannot happen without that basic spiritual quality of trust: being prepared to set sail and get into the boat.
Prayer’s difficulty, then, is that it’s unlike so much else that we do – such as managing, controlling, calculating – indeed it relies on something quite mysterious and uncontrollable: the presence of God, who is Other. Prayer requires a willingness to discover that which is not immediately self-evident, faith, but (for those whose heart is opened) becomes, over time, the one thing really needful. Requiring, quite simply, like any relationship, a capacity for trust and persistence, daring to discover the Other and to allow true friendship to unfold, at the heart of our daily life.
Prayer is a journey of the heart, towards our true centre, which is God… and away from all those things which harm and ensnare us, even though (for a time) they may appear more alluring. A journey above all, like the Prodigal Son, into discovering the abundant love of God, who in Jesus welcomes you home and showers you with delights and rich food.
Prayer, quite literally, is deep breathing: taking time, consciously, to breath in the living Spirit of God, just as we breath the air around us to animate our bodies and replenish our lungs. And breathing more deeply, daring to animate the lives of those around you, with the same oxygen – the same breath, and fire and light - that you have received.
Take time, then, this year, to really pray, to talk to God; to spend more time with him; to listen to him. Take time to learn from others – including those of us who are prayer guides, and from the books in our prayer bookstall –about differing ways of praying, connecting you to the world wide web of the Holy Spirit. Take time, using the Bible or your own creative imagination and reflection, to hear again what God is saying to you, wherever you are. And I promise you, you will be surprised to discover the difference that prayer makes, in untold ways – with God at the centre, praying in and through you, and opening up a new & glorious future, in communion with all his saints. Amen