Thoughts on Miracles: II

Sermon for the Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 19, Year A)
Preached at St Matthias’ Bellwoods, 10 August 2008

Last week we heard the miracle of the loaves and fishes; we have just heard how in the small hours of a stormy night, Jesus walked on the Sea of Galilee many furlongs out from land to his disciples in a boat, and bade St Peter walk on the water as well, and saved him when he lost faith, and how when Jesus got into the boat, the storm ceased. Thus there are three miracles at least in this story, not just one. Last week’s gospel brought us to consider that there is no way around the miraculous element in the Gospel, but because this is an important matter, we will continue to think of it today. In fact to is going to take us at least into next week.
The events in these gospel readings truly fit the definition of “miracle” given by St Thomas Aquinas, quoting St Augustine:

A miracle is described as something difficult and unusual, surpassing the capabilities of nature and the expectations of those who wonder at it.[1]

We should note the words for what we call “miracles” that are used in the New Testament. The first is τέρατα, ‘wonders’ or ‘prodigies’; in this word the astonishment of the beholders is applied to the deed itself. This word is the closest to our word “miracle” which comes from the Latin mirari, to be astonished. It is never used alone, but always with one of the other words, as “signs and wonders”; which brings us to the second word, σημεια, ‘signs’. Σημεια is used in all the gospels, but particularly in John, where it is the ordinary term for miracle as a sign pointing to Christ’s glory, or the presence of God in him.[2] What matters here is not the wonder produced in the beholder, but in the meaning of the act. The third word is δυνμαεις ‘powers’ or ‘works of power’ we find this word at Matthew 7.22, Mt 11.20, Mk 6.14, Ll 10.13. These three words describe the same works under different aspects than three different classes of works. The most important of them is σημεια, ‘signs’, for the most important thing about a miracle is that they point us to belief in God. Now although all miracles are signs, a sign is not necessarily a miracle. Common events may be signs that authenticate some word or announcement. Thus, the Angel said to the shepherds that the sign of the good news would be their finding a Child wrapt in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. There are many such signs in the Old Testament.[3]
That said, we can return to the definition. If a miracle is something which “surpasses the capabilities of nature” it is obvious that the whole question of whether we believe that God works miracles depends on what we mean by nature.
First, however, it is important to remember that “nature” is not a thing—just as the world is not a thing—the word nature originally meant “birth”, it is from the same root as “native”; it came to mean a quality or character, and rerum natura meant the nature of things, the order or course of the world. Now over the centuries, human beings have observed that in the world there is a regular and uniform activity, which regular activities are given the name laws of nature. Unless uniform and regular rules are assumed, as C. B. Moss put it, “we could never be sure that the sun would not rise in the west or that a hen’s egg would not produce a crocodile, natural science and indeed human life would be impossible.” However, the records of scripture and history include events which could not be explained by any natural cause. It is sometimes naively said that that is because people in past ages did not know of or believe in the uniformity of nature. But if this is so, there would be no reason to speak of wonders, prodigies or works of power. Unless people knew the ordinary way in which children are begotten, there would be nothing surprising in a virgin conceiving without the aid of human father. It is fair to clarify the definition: a miracle is an occurrence which surpasses the capabilities that are known of nature. The New Testament scholar Reginald Fuller said that

This formula is attractive for both its scientific and theological humility. It admits that we don’t know everything yet, that our scientific knowledge … is still limited. But it is also prepared to surrender belief in a particular miracle, if it should turn out to be a natural occurrence after all. And on this definition the day may come when we shall know so much about nature that there will be no place for a miracle after all.[4]

That is a sensible statement. People have learned that some wonders have causes within nature; one might think of solar and lunar eclipses, for example, or rainbows. It is much harder to see how we can ever know enough to do away with the resurrection or the virgin birth. You will notice, I hope, that Fuller does not define “nature”. Moss points out that

The word "nature" can be used in three different senses: (a) It may mean "all that exists". Spinoza … uses it in this sense. Nothing can be "beyond nature" if this is what we mean by nature. (b) It may mean "all created things". St. Thomas Aquinas uses it in this sense, for he is careful to say "created nature". (c) It may mean "all material things", as when we say "natural science". This is the usual modern sense.

Now which of these senses we mean is not decided by scientific experimentation; it is a philosophical question. If you say that only such things as can be measured have reality, you have excluded the possibility of a miracle before the question is raised, and will have to reject or explain away any accounts of miracles. We will return to this question next week. Now we need to consider a fourth word from the New Testament. The miracles of Christ are often called έργα, ‘works’ i.e., such works as might be expected of the God-man, and which reveal his Person. It is almost as if they come forth by necessity. Archbishop Trench wrote.

They are the periphery of that circle whereof he is the centre. The great miracle is the Incarnation; all else, so to speak, follows naturally and of course. It is of no wonder that He whose name is wonderful’ (Isa 9.6) does works of wonder; the only wonder would be if he did them not

The miracle of walking on the sea is such a work, and a work of power, and we must turn to it before we use up the little time we have. This miracle is unlike the miracles of healing and mercy; and we might ask why God should overrule nature in this way. Taken as a work of power, this miracle declares the power of Christ over the sea. This points us back to very ancient beliefs in the Old Testament that God in creation was victorious over the sea, a symbol of chaos and evil.[5] For Jesus to walk on the sea is for the power of God in him to be manifest. On a symbolic level, it is a miracle of teaching: by it Jesus teaches his disciples to trust in him, that he is with them and will help them even when it seems least likely, and that nothing can come between them and his love. It is a preparation for their mission in the world, which is our mission. Notice that he has gone up the mountain to pray; while he has sent disciples out onto the sea. Just so, he will send the disciples out into the stormy world, and himself ascend into heaven. But in heaven he is with his Church, in heaven he ever intercedes for it and watches over it But there I am past my time and we will have to turn to Peter and his faith another time. If it is manageable I will produce further notes on this passage. Next week we will think further about miracles.

Notes

[1] Miraculum dicitur aliquid arduum et insolitum supra facultatem natura et spem admirantes praeveniens. ST 1a Q 105 7.2, quoting Augustine De utilitate credendi 16 (Miraculum voco quidquid arduum et insolitum supre speam vel facultatem mirantis apparet.
[2] We find this meaning in Deuteronomy 13: “If a prophet arises among you, or a dreamer of dreams, and gives you a sign or wonder, and the sign or wonder comes to pass, and if he says, Let us go after other gods, which you have not known, and let uis serve them, you shall not listen to the words of that prophet or that dreamer of dreams”
[3] Luke 2.12; Exodus 3.12; 1 Sam 2.34; 10. 1-9; Jer 44.29-30; Jgs 7.9-15; 2 Kgs 7.2, 17-20)
[4] Interpreting the Miracles (1961), p. 8

[5] One thinks also of the miracle of the Red Sea in Exodus 14, which also took place in the morning watch. Job 9.8: [God] alone stretched out the heavens, and trampled the waves of the sea; Psalm 64.12-17: Yet God is King from of old, working salvation in the midst of the earth. Thus didst divide the sea by thy might; thou didst break the heads of the dragons on the waters. Thou didst crush the heads of Leviathan, and didst give him as food for the creatures of the wilderness; Psalm 77.19; Psalm 89.9-10: Thou dost rule the raging of the sea; when its waves rise, thou stillest them. Thou didst crush Rahab like a carcass, thou didst scatter thy enemies with thy mighty arm; Isaiah 43.16: Thus says the Lord , who makes a way in the sea, a path in the mighty waters. (Rahab and Leviathan are names of a sea-monster and personify the restless power of the sea.)

Thoughts on Miracles: I

Sermon for the Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost,
Preached at St Mathias Bellwoods, Toronto
3 August AD 2008

There was once a parish priest who was preaching to his parishioners and said that our Lord fed five hundred persons with five loaves. When the parish clerk heard him say this, he stood up and whispered softly in his ear: “But Sir, you’re mistaken; the gospel says five thousand.” “Hold your peace, you fool,” said the preacher; “they will scarcely believe that they were five hundred.”

Not much of a joke, I suppose, even with the language updated a bit. And really, five hundred or five thousand makes little difference; both are difficult to believe or imagine. This may be why this miracle sometimes gets explained away, and we are told something like this. When Jesus made all the people sit on the grass, they saw that he was taking all the food that he and disciples had, and were moved to take food they had and share it, and so all were fed. The true miracle was a miracle of sharing and generosity, for such virtues are always miracles. I suppose that is a good lesson, but ever since I first heard in Sunday School, I’ve been suspicious. Surely if that’s the lesson the Gospel writer (and the Holy Spirit) wants us to learn from this passage, the text might say something like, “and the people began to share the food they had and all were filled.” I must admit that this explanation is not without support. The Revised Common Lectionary Commentary website from the diocese of Montreal notes that “A peasant in Palestine, then and now, travelled with food”. We will consider that point in a moment. What we must do first is read the passage a little more closely. Some of the finer details are in the lectionary notes on my blog.
Over the past few weeks the Gospel readings have been taken from Matthew 13, which is a chapter of parables taught by the sea, but the last six verses and the opening section of chapter 14 are not read in the Sunday lectionary. At the end of Matthew 13, Jesus returned to his Nazareth, where he taught in the synagogue; the people were astonished by his teaching, because he was a local boy, and took offence at him. Jesus utters the words, A prophet is not without honour except in his own country and in his own house, and is not able to do many miracles there, because of their unbelief.
Chapter 14 begins with the report of Herod Antipas asking who this Jesus was, and declaring his own conviction that Jesus was John the Baptist raised from the dead. Then the Gospel writer tells how Herod had ordered the Baptist’s execution, because he preached against Herod’s unlawful marriage. The first words of the passage we heard refer to John’s death: Now when Jesus heard this. John’s death moved Jesus greatly; here, perhaps he saw what the call of God could, and would mean. We are not allowed into Jesus’ private thoughts here, beyond the notice that he withdrew from there, Nazareth, in a boat to a lonely place apart.
When they heard this people followed him on foot from the towns. This is where we have to consider the comment that peasants “travelled with food”. If it is nit-picking to ask whether these townsfolk were peasants, it is reasonable to ask whether going out to hear a preacher in the countryside is travelling. Tabgha, traditionally said to be the site of this miracle, is only 2.5 km from Capernaum and about the same distance from Chorazin. Rather than thinking of people preparing for a journey, we should imagine people going out rather suddenly, so that they find themselves away rather longer than expected and so caught without food. Some may have had food and other may not. This has to be left up to your judgement of human nature, but I believe it is the natural interpretation of the text.
When Jesus landed on the north-west shore of Galilee, and saw the throng, he had compassion on them, and healed their sick, and that they were there till evening, when the disciples suggested that he send the crowd away to get food. St John Chrysostom noted that Jesus waited to be asked, as always not stepping forward first to do miracles, but when called upon. In passing we may take this as a reminder that God wants us to pray. Like us the disciples are weak in faith, they say This is a deserted place, which calls to mind the complaint of the people in the wilderness, They spoke against God saying, Can God prepare a table in the wilderness? He smote the rock so that water gushed out and streams overflowed. Can he also give bread, or provide meat for his people? One of the important lessons of this miracle is that God can and does supply his people’s needs even in the wilderness.
When the Lord replies, they need not go away, we might expect him to say, I will give them food. But he says, you give them something to eat, to which they reply, We have only five loaves here and two fish; essentially, we do not have enough. Two points emerge from this: the first is that Christ gives the authority and ministry of service to his disciples, so that this miracle is one of the foundations of the apostolic ministry; but the second is that all their, all our, resources are nothing unless first offered to God in Christ. We cannot discuss in detail Christ’s actions on receiving the bread and fish, except to note that they are described in exactly the same terms as his actions in taking the bread at the Last Supper, showing that this miracle is a foreshadowing of the Eucharist. Indeed, the eucharistic teaching of John’s Gospel is entirely centred around thios miracle, a fact which should remove any doubt. What we must stress is that there is not the slightest hint that this is a “miracle of sharing”. There is no earlier version we can look to to show that the miraculous element was added later, no evidence of such a story underlying the Gospel accounts except what we might read into it if we start off disbelieving in miracles.
So the question we will end with is the one really should have asked at the beginning. How do we start off? If we reject the possibility of miracles out of hand, then we will never accept the Gospels without making them say what we want and not what they say, that is, by doing violence to them. Nonetheless, stories of miracles have been a stumbling block to the faith of many in our day, and we need to consider them very carefully. But that is a good place to stop for this morning, because it opens up the question of whether we can believe in miracles or have to turn the story into something else. Since next week’s Gospel reading is also a miracle story, the account of our Lord walking on the sea, I will return to this theme of miracles next week.

Trinity Sunday Sermon, 2008

A Homily for the Feast of the Most Holy and Undivided Trinity, Year

A Preached at Saint Matthias’, Bellwoods, Toronto

On The First Sunday after Pentecost, 18 May AD 2008

Christians of the Catholic tradition perform certain reverences: they bow at certain moments or words, bend the knee, make the sign of the cross, and so on. Contrary to what some think, they do not generally do these things for the fun of it, but because they desire to worship God in body as well as in mind and heart and voice. They desire to worship with the whole person. To bend the knee or genuflect before the Blessed Sacrament is to worship Christ who said This is my Body. If we did not believe his word, it would be blasphemy to bend the knee before a piece of bread. Now before you conclude that I have got my Sundays wrong and this is Corpus Christi sermon, let me asure you it is not. I mention it because the belief that makes us genuflect before the Sacrament signifies an even more basic belief. Unless we believe that the one who said This is my Body was (and is) himself God, then not only the reverence to the Sacrament but all our worship is blasphemy, divine honour paid to a mortal — indeed, if he is not God, paid to a dead Galilean carpenter — is nothing but blasphemy.

Not just our reverences, but all our worship proclaims our belief that this man, Jesus Christ, is the Living Lord, God the Son, whom the Father sent into the world for our salvation, and who sent the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, to give us life. And on this is founded our belief that in the unity of the Godhead there are three persons, of one substance, power and eternity, the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. each is God, each is Lord, but there are not three Gods and three Lords but One God and one Lord.

Now it is usually a mistake for a preacher on Trinity Sunday to try to explain the doctrine of the Trinity, or to use some homely object like a shamrock to make it easy to digest. Instead, I want to talk for a bit about how this belief arose, and particularly why Christians had to make it all complicated with doctrines and dogmas and other things that modern people don’t much like, but which are really only the tools we use to keep us safe when we try to explain what we believe. For the doctrine of the Trinity arose simply because Christians wanted to be faithful to all the experience of God recorded in the Scriptures, and we in our day can do no better than to stick to it.

In the first place, there is the undeniable truth that God is One and we are to worship him alone. God seems to have spent centuries hammering this fact into the heads of his chosen people To their everlasting credit, Israel has to this day maintained an absolute commitment to Monotheism and an absolute horror of idolatry. This was just as true two thousand years ago. As we know, Jesus and his disciples were Jews, raised and nutured in the belief in the One God. Every day they would recite the great words, Hear O Israel, the Lord our God the Lord is one, and all the rest, which Jesus identified as the first and great commandment.

In their life with Jesus his disciples experienced God in a new way. Now the best way I could stretch out this homily is to point out all the passages that show this; if you will forgive me I won’t do that now. (Some passages gathered by E. J. Bicknell are in the added note below.) Enough to say that the whole impression Jesus’ life and works made on his disciples convinced them he was divine. Not only the disciples saw this; even the religious authorities who opposed him had no doubt that his traching and actions implied a claim to be equal to God, and for this he was killed. The Resurrection crowned the disciples’ conviction and brought it to full consciousness, a consciousness so overwhelming that S.Thomas, a Jew, cried out, “My Lord and my God!”

They also has a new experience of God in the Holy Spirit. Christ himself had spoken of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, as divine yet distinct from Himself, and when that Spirit came upon his disciples in power they knew that He too could be no less than God. The belief in God as Trinity is grounded on the Christian commitment to taking seriously the experience of God in Christ and the Holy Spirit while at the same time remaining faithful to the revelation of God’s Unity. In the letters of the New Testament we find passage after passage which show that the first Christians thought of the supreme source of spiritual blessing not as single but as threefold—threefold in essence and not merely in manner of speech. (References to many of these passages may be found in the notes for today elsewhere in this blog.) A supreme example of this triadic language is the passage from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians which we heard a few minutes ago. As has been remarked, St Paul wrote these words in the expectation that his converts would understand their meaning from their own spiritual experience; it was nothing new or unfamiliar. “In speaking almost casually of ‘the grace or the Lord Jesus Christ and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost’ (2 Cor 13.14), he simply sums up the working faith of the Christian community.”

Perhaps, though, we might be forgiven for asking why the Church couldn’t have stopped there without developing a doctrine of the Trinity, with all its difficult language about persons and natures, processions, generations, and spirations, and that blessed word Perichoresis, which is translated mutual indwelling but seems to mean that the Divine Persons are forever dancing with each other? ( This won’t be on the test)

Well at first, they did stop there. The first believers were hardly aware that there was any problem, or that their faith was inconsistent with monotheism. Divine names, titles and functions that belong to God alone in the Old Testament, are freely ascribed in the pages of the New to the Lord Jesus and to the Holy Spirit. As has been well said, ‘In the first flush of their new hope Christians rather felt than reasoned out their conviction that their master was divine. It was a certainty of heart and mind—but the mind could hardly subject the conception to the processes of reason—the soul leapt to the great conclusion, even though the mind might lag behind, They did not stay to reason; they knew.’[1]

Eventually they had to reason. In the first place, people then were no less intelligent, inquisitive, and argumentative than they are today, and asked questions (just like parishioners today). “If Jesus is God’s Son, is he really God?” “Uhm, right then, … does that mean there are two Gods?” All around them was a society that asked more or less politely, “What do you people believe that is so important you can’t just live like other folk?” “If you can worship Jesus, why can’t you offer a little pinch of incense to the Emperor?” And when persecutions arose, it was hardly unreasonable that people who might have to die for their faith should want to understand it. So Church leaders tried to give answers, like clergy do today. Some did a better job, some a worse, like clergy do today. Some of the answers had the advantage of being simple and easy to understand, but at the cost of ignoring or explaining away some of the facts. Some teachers fudged over the divinity of Christ; some acknowldedged that he was Divine, but not of the same being as the Father, conveniently forgetting the Unity of God; some made the Son and the Spirit temporary masks the Father put on, and were quite surprised when other Christians objected to the idea that the Father suffered on the Cross. The Christian Church, which preferred not to speculate about God, was forced to think out her belief and find words to express it. That was a long process, and we do not need to rehearse it all now. (If you want to read the story a good place to start is the book Fathers and Heretics by G. L. Prestige.)

We might perhaps note here that the tradition does not only give us language to safeguard our faith, but warns us that our langauge is limited. For example, Latin-speaking Christians used the word Person to describe the three, but St Augustine says of this word “Yet, when the question is asked, What three? human language labors altogether under great poverty of speech. The answer, however, is given, “three persons”, not that it might be [completely] spoken, but that it might not be left [wholly] unspoken.”[2] This is true of all our words, of course; but the fact that they cannot express all the truth does make them untrue or worthless. So far I have only attempted to show that the Christian belief in One God in three Persons is not a piece of clever speculation but the natural result of the Christian experience that the source of spiritual blessing is not single but threefold. This belief grows from, supports, and allows our faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Much more ought to be said, but there is no time. So I end with the simple thought that the Christian life does not consist in what we can know about God the Holy Trinity, but in coming to know and live with the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This knowledge and life comes through the faith and love which we find in word, prayer, and sacrament, and the love of our neighbours. It comes in following Jesus Christ who has promised to bring us even now into his life,

in union with the Father and the Holy Spirit;

to whom be given, as is most justly due,

all praise and glory now and for ever and unto ages of ages, Amen
_________________________________________________________
Added Note:
The Gospel Passages referred to above, as mentioned in E. J. Bicknell, A Historical and Theological Introduction to the XXXIX Articles.

Through their prolonged intercourse with Him the disciples became convinced that our Lord too was divine. He spoke of Himself as ‘Son of Man’,[3] and Himself interpreted the meaning of that title in the light of Dan 7.13 (e.g. Mark 14.62). They were compelled to ask ‘what manner of man is this?” (Mt 8.27, &c.) By His question He encouraged them to think out for themselves who He was. He commended S. Peter who could find no word short of ‘Messiah’ able to contain all that He had shown Himself to be. He claimed a unique intimacy with the Father (Mt 11.25-27) In His own name He revised and deepened the law of Moses (Mt 5.2, &c.). He taught His disciples to repose in Him an unlimited confidence that no mere man had the right to demand of his fellow-men (Mt 7.24, &c.). He died for His claim to be the Christ and the Son of God (Mk 14.61). The whole impression made upon them by Hid life and works was crowned and brought to consciousness by His Resurrection(e.g. Rom 1:4). He was indeed the Son of God. No language short of this could express the place that He had come to take in their knowledge of God.

He had spoken to the disciples of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, as divine yet distinct from Himself[4] (Jn 14:16 and 15:26). They were to expect the Spirit’s coming when He was gone (Acts 1.4-5). In that coming He Himself would come too (John 14.18). At Pentecost they had a personal experience of the Holy Spirit. A new and lasting power entered into their lives. They knew that He too could be no less than God. Further, in the Baptismal formula the teaching of Christ is summed up. Converts are to be baptized ‘into the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost’ (Mt 28.19). The name is one. It belongs equally to the three Persons, who are associated on an equality and distinguished from one another by the use of the definite article.
Footnotes [

[1] Bethune Baker, Christian Doctrines; how they arose, p. 16.

[2] De Trinitate, V.9.

[3] [Bicknell's note] The title seems to come from Dan. 7.13. There it denotes not an individual but a figure in human form, which is interpreted as ‘the saints of the most high’, v.27. That is, it stands for Israel in contrast with the beasts, which stand for heathen nations. But very soon ‘One like unto a son of man’ came to be interpreted as an individual, the Messiah. In the Book of Enoch this interpretation is made explicit. ‘The Son of Man’ is a superhuman being, who executes God’s judgement. How far it was a recognized Messianic title in our Lord’s day, is disputed. He would hardly have assumed it if it was popularly regarded as synonymous with Messiah. For discussion of this title, see A. E. J. Rawlinson, The New testament Doctrine of Christ, pp 242ff.; C. H. Dodd, The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel, pp 241 ff.; A. M. Farrer, A Study in S. Mark, pp 247ff.

[4] [Bicknell's note.] It is not easy to distinguish in the fourth Gospel between our Lord’s actual words and the Evangelist’s own meditation on them

A Homily Preached on The Fifth Sunday of Easter, Year A

On the occasion of the Baptism of Josephine Carol Eyford

at Saint Matthias’, Bellwoods, Toronto, 20 April 2008

This is a very joyful morning; today we welcome Josephine Carol into household of God. Through the waters of baptism she will symbolically die to sin and rise to the new life of Christ; through the anointing of Holy Chrism in sign of the Cross she will be marked as Christ’s own for ever; by the light from the Easter Candle she will receive a pledge that she has passed from darkness to light, so that she can do good works to lighten others and show forth God’s glory. Even more; after centuries of infant baptism this rite has also become a sign that the community welcomes this child and rejoices with her family. All these symbols are mixed and jumbled in a rather wonderful way. A family party comes into Church; the Gospel is proclaimed in the middle of a family party. Her parents show her off proudly, as if to say, “Look what we’ve got!, but the community replies “Oh but she’s one of us, you know!” It’s all wonderful, it’s all fun, and it’s all important.
Now experience has taught me that parents bring their babies baptism for a variety of reasons. One might be that since the parents are themselves part of the Church, they want it for their children, as well, so that they may grow up knowing the fellowship and the faith. So perhaps our question should be why people come to the Church. John Baycroft, in The Anglican Way, notes two main reasons: some come primarily for the fellowship, and some come for what he calls ‘the transcendent’, but he notices that in reality whichever you come for, you get both. This is very true, but it is only one side of a more important range of ideas. Both reasons see coming to Church and seeking Baptism as our choice and decision; but when we turn to the Bible, we find a different picture.
From the very beginning, the history of salvation has been the story of God seeking men and women and calling them into fellowship. Indeed, even when Adam and Eve sinned and hid themselves away, God called, “Where are you?” After that God called Noah and Abraham and Moses and Samuel and all the rest; $until at last he sent his Son into the world to seek and save the lost. Jesus went about calling people: fishermen from their boats and tax collectors from their offices or their sycamore trees. And so it has continued. In the last few weeks we have been reading from the Acts of the Apostles. The first converts surely thought they came because they found the teaching of the Apostles convincing or the life of the community attractive, or for a myriad other reasons, but when the author of Acts describes the growth of the Church he says “three thousand persons were added” and “day by day the Lord added to their number those who were being saved”. To all of them, apostles and disciples, men and women and children, whatever they thought they were doing and for whatever reason, Jesus said, and he says to us, “You did not choose me, but I chose you.” (John 15:16)
This call does not always come with a flash of light or a choir of angels. The Wisdom of God, who mightily and sweetly orders all things, desires our cooperation. He wants you to want him; he doesn’t much care, I think, if it seems to you to be your own idea.. The dramatic call, the Damascus experience, probably means that we weren’t listening. But our coming to faith and baptism is no more our own bright idea than was our creation. It is as C. S. Lewis describes in The Silver Chair: When Aslan tells Jill that he has called her out of her own world, she replies, “Could there be some mistake? Nobody called [us] … It was we who asked to come here.” Aslan says, “You would not have called me unless I had been calling you”.
Now this is mysterious; but in Christian language a mystery means not a puzzle to be decoded but an unseen reality that is revealed in God’s good time. The Church might seem to be a very human community, an odd assortment of people trying to live by God’s grace and to love one another, and muddling the job as often as not. But the First Letter of Peter shows us the Church as it is in God’s reality, a reality we can only know by faith. In this reality it is a temple built up of living stones, a people sharing in Christ’s royal priesthood, a consecrated nation, a people God claims as his own. The church as temple and priesthood is the Body of Christ, the Word of God to the world and the offering to God for the world. And while God does promise us all that we seek: life and salvation for our souls; healing of our hurts; and finally a place in the Father’s house, God has called us to be his instruments, to be knit together in this fellowship, to work together in this priesthood, to be built together into his temple, to be a sign to the world of the mystery of Christ.
Sheri and Dean: this morning you are answering Christ’s call for Josephine Carol. Remember that he is not calling her only for the sake of the good he wants to do her, but also so that she can serve him. Today you are promising that, just as you will take care to nourish her to grow strong and healthy, so you will feed her with spiritual food, so that she will grow to be a living stone, making God’s house strong and beautiful, and come to take her part in the royal priesthood. Now my friends, this speaks to us as well as to these proud parents; all of us are here because in many and varied ways we have answered God’s call. So let us remember that we, too, must always seek the spiritual nourishment that will build us up as living stones into the temple of God in this place.