Transcript
From Matthew’s Gospel: “As he walked by the Sea of Galilee, Jesus saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew, his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” I speak in the name of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
This morning, I want to speak directly to those who suffer from despondency, or love someone who does. I begin with a few suggestions. First, find your baptismal certificate, frame it, and put it where you can’t miss seeing it every day. Listen to music in the morning. If you shave, shave to sacred music in whatever style. And above all, flee to the Sacrament. “If it’s just a symbol, then to hell with it,” as Flannery O'Connor said. Your brokenness is no small thing. Neither is the broken body of our Lord.
As a priest, people have let me in on their mental fight, the affliction of mind common to so many of us. They speak of their agony being like that of a person tortured awaiting another torture session. That’s violent.
But notice that all biblical passages appointed for reading on All Saints Day are redolent of violence. We get Psalm 149, Revelation 7. 2 – 4, 9 – 17, and Matthew 5. 1 – 12. In the latter, Jesus extols the privilege of those who have been persecuted, lied about, and reviled, to the greater glory of God.
In Saint John’s apocalyptic vision we get the choir of the blood-washed sanctified. Revelation is above all other New Testament books the one most shot through with saints and songs; it is also the book most shot through with violence. The saints are those who go through an ordeal, as a baby goes through a birth canal. They have suffered, bled, and wept, and finally they sing in full voice, washed by the blood of the Lamb.
For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
and he will guide them to springs of living water;
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.
And there’s Psalm 149, which is not a psalm of complaint but a psalm of praise.
Let the high praises of God be in their throat
And a two-edged sword in their hand;
To wreak vengeance on the nations,
Reproof upon the peoples;
To bind their kings in chains
And their nobles with links of iron;
To inflict on them the judgment decreed;
It is glory for all his saints.
That the Church in her wisdom chose this psalm out of all others to honor the saints can only seem perverse to genteel piety. For there it is, making a connection between violence and praise that marks the lives of any saint you can think of, canonical or otherwise.
We see the same combination in the life of our Lord Jesus, driven by the Spirit into the wilderness to confront the adversary, healing the sick and the possessed, telling the demons to shut their mouths, taking his stand in the Temple.
And finally we see him waging war on death itself in that sword plunged into the earth at Golgotha, held at the hilt by the Father. And it continues in the Church, beginning with the apostolic witness.
In our preparation for worship here at Good Sam this 25 January, we planned to sing a hymn (#661 in our hymnal) based on a poem written by Walker Percy’s ‘Uncle Will’, William Alexander Percy. That poem was set to music by David McK Williams, who wrote the tune whilst Organist & Choirmaster at St Bartholomew’s in the City of New York, my first cure and the church where I was ordained a priest thirty years ago as snow began to fall on Epiphany. Williams wrote it in admiration for his friend F Bland Tucker, beloved Rector of St John’s Church, Georgetown. Fr Tucker suffered from despondency.
He titled the hymn Georgetown. It is comprised of these four stanzas:
They cast their nets in Galilee
just off the hills of brown;
such happy, simple fisherfolk
before the Lord came down.
Contented, peaceful fishermen,
before they ever knew
the peace of God that filled their hearts
brimful and broke them too.
Young John, who trimmed the flapping sail,
homeless in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
head down was crucified
The peace of God, it is no peace,
but strife closed in the sod.
Yet, let us pray for but one thing:
the marv’lous peace of God.
The battle against evil is bloody and deeply sad, and if you have the courage to stay in it you will feel like you are losing most of the time. We’re staying in it together, my friends.
Let us pray. O God our King, by the resurrection of your Son Jesus Christ on the first day of the week, you conquered sin, put death to flight, and gave us the hope of everlasting life: Redeem all our days by this victory; forgive our sins, banish our fears, make us bold to praise you and to do your will; and steel us to wait for the consummation of your kingdom on the last great Day; through Jesus Christ our Lord. In the name of God, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
On Sunday, from the Book of Common Prayer, page 835.
