Lilies, organ pipes, water and wine

(Matt 6.25-33; Ps 150; Jn 6.35-40)

I feel that in the last couple of weeks we’ve had some pretty demanding texts to deal with: demanding in that the texts haven’t been easy to understand; demanding, too, in what they seemed to ask of us if we did understand them. Exodus and Exile. A loving God and unanswered prayer. And so on. Well, fair enough. No doubt we need to wrestle with these things from time to time.

But the lectionary readings for this week seemed set to continue this difficult vein of things. Something inside me—whether it was the prompting of the Holy Spirit or not may be a moot point—but something in me said, ‘O lighten up a bit! It’s time to focus on the joy, the fun, the delight of being children of a loving God. Look at the good things of life! Indeed, look at life itself as the extravagant gift of God! And remember that part of the glory of God is that we live this gift with zest and joy and gratitude.’

At the heart of Bishop Reynolds’ prayer of thanksgiving, which we prayed a moment ago, are three central realities for which we might bless the goodness of God.

1. Creation. ‘We bless you for our creation, preservation and all the blessings of this life.’

2. Redemption: we bless you ‘above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ.’

3. Hope: we bless you ‘for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory.’

That’s what I’d like to celebrate this morning: creation, redemptive love, grace. And I’d like to do it, not so much by talking about these things (though ironically I’ll do that too!), but by drawing our attention to what we might call the ‘silent witnesses’, the wordless preaching stations, in the church, that speak to us quietly, week by week, as we come to worship God.

1. Flowers: Here is the first of our wordless preaching stations. These wonderful flowers. Every week these astonishing elements of God’s creation are set here in our midst; and we honour all those who faithfully make this happen for us; who get these flowers, bring them here, and arrange them before our eyes. These flowers are not just pretty ornamentation. These are witnesses to the glory and generosity of God. I’ve been writing in the pastoral notes the last few weeks about plants and poems and the lessons they offer. I think it is because Spring has suddenly come, and the world about us has burst into brimming and brilliant life. The Viburnums over by the office, the fir trees out here by the church, the Gleditsia, with its greening robe, in the courtyard there. In his most famous sermon, Jesus spoke of the beauty, indeed the glory, of the lilies of the field, and of the grace of birds wheeling in the sky. Mary Oliver, a great poet of creation, has taught me more than almost anyone else, to attend to the voice of God in the gurgling streams, the patient trees, the glowing flowers, the flying geese, their wings flashing in the rays of the setting sun. She is especially fond of the voice of the lily.

The Lily

Night after night
darkness
enters the face
of the lily
which, lightly,
closes its five walls
around itself,
and its purse
of honey,
and its fragrance,
and is content
to stand there
in the garden,
not quite sleeping,
and, maybe,
saying in lily language
some small words
we can’t hear
even when there is no wind
anywhere,
its lips
are so secret,
its tongue
is so hidden –
or, maybe,
it says nothing at all
but just stands there
with the patience
of vegetables
and saints
until the whole earth has turned around
and the silver moon
becomes the golden sun –
as the lily absolutely knew it would,
which is itself, isn’t it,
the perfect prayer?

The lily with its shape, its colour, its fragrance, its purse of honey; the lily with its saintly patience, its uncompromising trust, its wholehearted participation in the great turning world; this breath-taking piece of creation, which, in ‘lily language’, invites us to listen and to pray to our common Creator. This glory. This lily. This gift.

‘We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life.’

2. Organ & Piano. Our second wordless preaching station is here: the organ and piano. How flat, dull and ponderous would be our coming into God’s house were we to have no music, no rhythm, no song. And again, how much do we owe those in our community who choose, prepare, practice and bring us wonderful music week by week? ‘In the beginning was the word,’ John said in his Gospel. The speech of heaven, made accessible to our minds. But, we might add, also in the beginning was the note. The music of heaven, made audible to our hearts. And when the word joins the note in a harmony of praise, the depth of feeling, truth, belonging, togetherness that is created expresses the very joy of God. ‘O praise him with the trumpet and the lute … O praise him with the strings and pipe.’ The gospel of the immeasurable love of God set forth in music is a huge, inexhaustible gift of glory. Listen to these beloved notes once again.

‘Jesus, joy of our desiring’. Sublime notes that have graced the worshipping church for 400 years, and still today. We bless you ‘above all, for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ.’

3. Baptismal pool and Communion table: The third of our wordless preaching stations is here. A pool of water for baptism. Bread and wine for communion. These things have been called ‘the means of grace’ in our tradition. That is, the concrete, practical, bodily ways in which, by the gift of the Spirit, we are offered the creative and redemptive love of God; a love poured out freely for all the world, but here, in this place, directed to each one of us personally, by name. In baptism we are immersed in, drenched by, soaked to the skin with, the cleansing and life-giving grace of God. In communion we eat the bread and the drink wine that draws us body and soul, in our whole being, into the reality of Christ’s community, the church, in the world. ‘I am the bread of life,’ said Jesus, ‘whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.’ And again, how grateful are we to those in our midst who prepare these gifts for us time and again, and in Christ’s name invite us to take, eat and drink.

Here, surrounded by these pulpits of wordless witness, we encounter a voice of eternal hope, as Jesus said: ‘this is the will of my Father, that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life; and I will raise them up at the last day.’

We bless you ‘for the means of grace and the hope of glory.’

The witness of flowers. The witness of music. The witness of water. The witness of communion. These wonderful gifts, we rejoice in. These wonderful gifts we celebrate. These wonderful gifts we thank God for. And for these wonderful gifts, we thank, also, those in our community whose faithful love and quiet service brings them to us week by week.

Hymn 559: ‘Love Divine all Loves Excelling’

Graeme Garrett

Canberra Baptist Church

Twenty Second Sunday after Pentecost

24 October 2010