3rd September 2023 | Year A | Matthew 16:21-end
We have been journeying through Matthew’s Gospel, with passages of welcome, stories and parables, it is at this point though that the narrative takes a turn. As if Jesus has said ‘right, I’ve done the nice stories, now it’s time to get down to business’. From here Jesus embarks on the long journey to Golgotha and the Cross, and it’s time to start teaching the disciples more intently. They’ve matured in their faith but there is more growth that is needed if they are to understand the mission set before them.
Last week we heard the affirmation of Peter’s faith its strong foundation, and how it was that rock on which the church would be built. After hearing today’s passage, it can be easy to mock Peter, to roll our eyes and say, ‘Here we go again – has Peter really not learnt anything’. But the narrative has shifted. And it no longer fits with what Peter thinks the Messiah, the Son of the Living God, should be doing. As far as Peter is concerned it is not possible that Jesus can suffer and die. For Peter, Jesus has just handed him the Keys to the Kingdom and has now changed the Job Description – all those who wish to follow Jesus must take up their cross and give up their lives. But what does it mean to give up our lives to follow Jesus?
Last weekend I was at Greenbelt. Greenbelt is a Christian Festival, with a strong activism and social justice focus. Across the weekend there is worship, a variety of talks, music and workshops. One of the talks I went go was Julian of Norwich: Mother. Mystic. Radical. Given by Dr Claire Gilbert.
I’ve had a fondness for Julian since I first read her Revelations of Divine Love.
Maybe because her writings are thought to be the first of a woman to be written in English.
Maybe because of her openness to call God and Jesus – Mother.
Or maybe because of the timelessness of her writings.
For such a popular person in Christian Mysticism, we don’t know very much about her, we don't even know if she was called Julian – we know that at the age of 30 she became extremely unwell, and it was during this time that she had her Revelations, and we know that at some point she entered the anchorite at St Julian’s Church and became an anchoress.
An anchoress lives in a cell attached to the side of a church, that is sealed shut and they are never able to leave. The have two small windows, one looking into the church towards the altar for services, and the other to the outside where people can visit and seek wisdom and guidance.
As with most speakers at Greenbelt, Dr Gilbert was publicising and selling a book. Unlike her academic titles, this was an imaginative piece – a fictional autobiography of Julian’s life. In the book she imagines Julian recounting to her scribe how she felt entering her cell, she writes:
“I am in the anchorhold now. The chanting continues, the bell tolls, I turn and kneel at the window into the sanctuary through which I can see the altar and Bishop Henry and the priests, but not the people. Never more the people at prayer. I am kneeling, my body completely still and steady, and then… Panic rises from my belly to my forehead. But it is too late to run. The little doorway is bricked up, one brick upon another, not yet sealed with mortar, that will come later, but sealing me in nevertheless, and my breath is shallow now, my heart beating fast as brick upon brick is placed. The last bricks are laid. The space where the door was is gone. I am buried. The cantor completes the terrible chant: Pie Iesu Domine, Dona eis requiem. Merciful Lord Jesus, Grant me rest. Stillness. There is a quiet rustling of clothes and patter of feet as the people leave the church, then the thin cry of a baby, Arthur perhaps, rises, piercing the silence: is it a cry of pain or for new life or both? The cry leaves the church with the people and silence returns. I rise and release the curtain over the squint, and I turn to face my cell, my coffin, my small home. I have never felt so fully alive. I am not expecting this. I was expecting to feel tortured by confinement at this moment, as the portal is bricked up, the impervious walls pressing upon me like the walls of my home with Martin in the city, my breath short and shallow, and panic only just kept under control. But the panic I felt when I first kneeled has gone. At last, at last I am alone, I am at home… There is nothing now between me and God. I kneel, and weep tears of joy and speak words of thanks, for the time that is granted me here, now. Time, and space, and strength, for the long, slow interior journey, deep into God, God deep into me. I have come home, Thomas! And here, twenty-five years later, I still, gratefully, am.”
This was Julian giving up her life to follow Jesus, and in doing so feeling the most alive she has felt. And whilst ultimately leading to death, it was not that which she chose, it is possible she lived in her cell for 50 years. It is the same in monastic orders when they enter life vows, it is only in extreme cases that they leave early. They give up their lives to follow Jesus.
We cannot avoid the fact that Jesus suffered and died for every person, in every culture, in every time and in every place. Jesus died in our place, but that does not exempt us from the cost of discipleship. Jesus was the embodiment of the Gospel message. Earlier in Matthew’s Gospel we hear:
“But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous.”
Forgiveness, God’s amazing grace, and eternal life are available to all who are willing to accept it. As a member of the body of Christ it is our responsibility to live as God’s chosen people and embody the Gospel message to love our neighbours as ourselves. This won’t be easy, and we will slip up, but we do so knowing that we share the sure foundation of Peter’s faith, knowing that God has bestowed these gifts on us and remains ever present. Knowing that by giving our lives to follow Christ, we will be fully alive.
Amen.
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