A sermon preached in Selwyn College Chapel, Tuesday 10 May 2011
I’m sure I’m not the only one here who likes a good steak. And while I understand that some people like theirs charred to a piece of boot leather, personally, I prefer it barely to have touched the grill – so I’ve got something to dip the chips in. But even so, when I see it there, prepared for me on a plate, or when I buy it shrink-wrapped in the supermarket, I don’t really pause to think of how it got there, that life was taken, blood was spilled. Death is commodified into discrete packages, spilt blood sanitised under the clingfilm or on my plate.
Tonight’s stories of Moses and Mary relate two quite different experiences of God, but are united by a common first response: fear. Pure fear at the awesome life-making, life-taking power of the divine, so far beyond comprehension that it risks breaking their minds. Noone has seen God and yet lives. And so it is that Moses, urged on by an awe-struck people, ascends towards God into a light so bright it blinds and becomes a dazzling darkness. And he descends, face shining, to lay down the Law: the first Covenant, for the people to obey strictly, in due fear of the Lord.
From that same bright darkness appears to Mary a shining envoy, whose first words are ‘have no fear:’ though seeing an angel in full glory must make watching Saw 3 seem like a picnic with the Care Bears. And Mary is afraid. But where God gave Moses commandments, to Mary he gives an invitation. It is her ‘Fiat,’ that ‘let it be,’ which redefines His Covenant with the world. God did not force Mary – God is not a rapist – but showing Himself as the free gift of love, He invited her to give an equally free, loving response. God is love, and love does not compel, but reaches out and welcomes.
But do not think for a moment that this tames the Divine. In the new Covenant of the Incarnation, where God gives Himself in human flesh, our relationship with Him is redefined: redefined, but not sanitised. People saw God and lived. Yet God revealed is no less hidden, the radiance of Christ no less blinding. The living God is even more the God of death, since even He has passed that gate which still awaits us all. Death must not be taken lightly: even the death of a terrorist should not be treated like a victory in a soccer match.
For we are all invited to follow Mary in bearing Christ: but in the wombs of our hearts. And we, like Mary, have the freedom to respond. This makes us no less, but all the more accountable to God: that God whom we know not in fuzzy feelings, or the prepacked sentimentality of feelgood hymns, but in dumbstruck awe at the boundless depths of His love.