Do Not Be Afraid - 10th Sunday After Trinity
My last contribution to this column was written in a hotel room looking over the River Tyne, and since that journey north I’ve travelled south to Taize (for the first time!) and returned home. That's a round trip of around 1,800 miles in three weeks, and for me something of a spiritual journey too.
The trip north was a trip back to where my ministry as a priest had begun, attending the funeral of the vicar I worked with as a newly ordained curate. As well as Stephen’s funeral; we also visited Durham and its glorious cathedral - the place of my ordination as deacon (1992) and priest (1993). As we visited that familiar building and its twin shrines of Bede and Cuthbert I returned to some of the memories of that time, including our first visit in February 1989 (from Bristol) for my interview at St John’s College prior to training there for ordained ministry. I especially remembered a strong sense of calling affirmed as I prayed at Cuthbert’s shrine all those years ago, focussed in an almost audible echo of ‘home’. Remembering that experience my prayers on our recent visit to Cuthbert’s shrine were rather (over) expectant of a renewed sense of call and connection… and this time …nothing!
Meanwhile I took very few expectations with me to Taize, with little sense of what this pilgrimage might hold. I’ve returned with a deeply refreshed spirit and restored sense of faith and vocation. I’ve been describing a sense of finding myself again ‘in my own skin’ in the whole experience of the week, from the beautiful chant and silence of the services to the simple chores expected of each pilgrim, and new friendships being formed.
While I was at Taize, I was reading ‘Passions of the Soul’, a small book by Rowan Williams drawing on wisdom from the desert monks of the early church. In it he explores the ways in which the Beatitudes (‘Blessed are the Poor in Spirit’ and so on) form a helpful counterpoint to some of the deepest and most familiar human struggles (Pride, Greed etc.). I was especially struck by his reflections on what was traditionally termed avarice as reflecting the struggle with needing to be in control: “control over others, control over one’s circumstances (present and future), control over one’s image.” All of this, according to Rowan Williams, is rooted in our fears about the perceptions of others, and our fears about an unknown future, and so represents a failure to trust in the mercy of God. Avarice leads us to surround ourselves with all kinds of ‘baggage’ - the physical, emotional and spiritual ‘stuff’ that offers us a sense of control, and, of course, the ‘stuff’ that is never enough!
This reflected helpfully for me on my recent contrasting experiences in Durham and Taize - in Durham I was being spiritually avaricious - seeking reassuring answers about the future - seeking what I wanted to hear and know. Meanwhile I went to Taize with no expectations or agendas, and received in abundance.
This Sunday’s gospel tells of Jesus walking towards the disciples on the lake as they struggle to navigate its stormy waters. As he approaches Jesus speaks to their fear: “Take heart, it is I; do not be afraid.”(Matthew 14.27)
In response Peter asks if he might step out of the boat and walk towards Jesus - but his tentative steps make him aware of the wind and waves rather than the hands and heart of Jesus reaching towards him.
This simple familiar story reflects beautifully on Rowan Williams’ reflections on the fear of losing control and the call to deepen our trust in God’s mercy. And the imagery is also baptismal - Peter, letting go of the slender security of the boat is immersed in the waters of the lake and caught in the grace and mercy of God’s arms of love.
The choppy waters of the Sea of Galilee, their insubstantial boat, and the call of Jesus to ‘take heart’ is a word to us and to all living in a profoundly uncertain world in which the temptation is often to grasp after a sense of control and narrow safety rather than immersing ourselves in the love and mercy of God.
In peace and friendship,
David
