The Gray Monk

Sermon given on Low Sunday

"The same day at evening, being the first day of the week, when the doors were shut, where the disciples assembled for fear of the Jews, came Jesus and stood in the midst of them, and said, Peace be unto you."

Watching the events of the last days of Pope John Paul's life as the crowds gathered in St Peter's Square and the Pope's life slowly ebbed, I think I can, after his death was announced, identify with how the disciples felt in the days following the crucifixion. Someone they had loved, that they had walked, talked, and eaten with, someone who occupied a very special and important place in their lives had died. They will never see that person, hear him, or enjoy his company again. They are bereft, lost, adrift in a mass of emotions: guilt, despair, anger, and self-pity; all ebb and flow within them. Watching the television pictures of the crowds of pilgrims in St Peter's Square when the death was announced, you could see it all in the faces of the crowd.

We are bereft; one of the greatest Christian souls of this century has passed from our existence to the next. We will see and hear him no more in this life, his leadership; his wisdom, and his spiritual strength are no more there to guide and encourage us.

But, watching that great throng and listening to the commentators, I was struck by just how poorly understood this man's faith was by the wider world, the world outside the church. It is reported that his last coherent words were:

"All my life I have looked for you. Now you have come to me. Thank you!"

To anyone who shares the Christian faith, these words are clearly addressed to God, present with him on his deathbed. A kindly and caring God who is here with us all even as He is there in the Papal chamber and there with the crowds in the Square. These are words that we should all, as Christians, have on our own lips as we pass from this life to the next. The problem is that we often blind ourselves to His presence among us or beside us. We are too focussed on the material things of life, and so we do not see God even though we seek to; we are looking at the wrong things.

Our Gospel reading this morning describes how Jesus came to the disciples as they huddled in the lockled upper room, in hiding for fear of the consequences of the events they have been a part of. He stands before them and He reassures them, yet, if you read on from the portion assigned by the Prayer Book from John 20 verse 19, you discover that Thomas Didamus, Doubting Thomas, was not there when Jesus came, and he refused to believe that they had seen Him. "Not until I can place my finger in the wounds and my hand in His side", declares Thomas, and Jesus later appears to him as well, in the presence of the others, and challenges him to take that step. Thomas then believes, but Christ says to him and the others

"you have seen and believed, how much more blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believed?"

This is very much where we are. We have never seen the Christ in the flesh. Our images of Him do not date from the time of the gospel; indeed, they are, at best, not even depictions of Him. Yet we believe. Some of us have deep faith, and some of us are just starting out in faith. Some of us have grown and some of us are afraid to grow in faith; we are comforatble where we are. The late Pope was not such a Christian; if you look at the record of his life you see a man growing every step of the way, and this is a model we should all follow. To stay still, to not grow spiritually is to cut ourselves off, to stifle our spiritual beings, and to miss out on the rich tapestry that makes up the journey through faith.

When I look back on my own journey, which started when I, a 15 year old, first encountered Anglican Choral Evensong, the faith I discovered then and the faith I hold now are very different. Life, experience, prayer, and - yes - great preachers and teachers, have all shaped and moulded the faith I have arrived at now. I began seeking for something I could believe in as a child and was nominally a Methodist. I tried Judaism, Catholicism and even the Dutch Reformed traditions before discovering a spiritual home in Anglicanism, and my journey is far from over. When I consider the things that have helped to shape my own faith, it is sometimes the simple things which stand out - one such being a service which is indelibly etched in my mind. It was not in a grand building such as this, there were no walls and no roof - it was in Africa, in the bush with a thorn tree for a canopy, a camping table for an altar, no vestments and silver vessels - just an enameled tin mug for a chalice and an enameled tin plate for a paten, the birds flitting around us, insects, and no doubt animals, and us, a small group gathered for communion.

The journey we are all embarked upon is a rich tapestry of such experiences. Each of us will have moments which we treasure, moments when we knew God was there in our presence and in our worship. It often means embracing changes which may at first disturb us, challenging our faith, but it is part of the process of growing in faith, of looking for God. And we must keep looking!

"All my life I have looked for you" said the dying John Paul, and so should we. Though we will spend most of our lives blinding ourselves to His presence we must keep looking. We must keep seeking to grow and we must persevere with the journey until we can say with John Paul, "Now you have come to me. Thank you!"

"Jesus said to them again, Peace be unto you, as my father has sent me, even so send I you"

Those words, addressed to the frightened and dispirited disciples, are addressed to us as well. We too are commissioned to live our lives in His service, in His faith, and to take that faith out to the world around us. Our lives are to be a journey in that faith; sometimes it will be hard travelling and sometimes it will be easier, but He is always with us, even when we blind ourselves to His presence. As Christians travelling on this great journey we should all hope to be able, at this life's end, to say with John Paul;

"All my life I looked for you. Now you have come to me. Thank you."

"He that hath the Son, hath life; he that hath not the Son, hath not life."

Amen