Sermon. How Creation Groans! How We Groan!

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford. 19.07.20.

First Sunday with a real-life congregation since lockdown.

Trinity 6 (Year A)

Romans 8.12-25

We spent some time with Paul last week. Let us see what happens if we stick with him.

He tells us: “We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves… groan inwardly.”

We can relate.

I feel we can relate in many ways.

We sense that all is not well with ourselves, 
or within creation itself.

We don’t have to be an “eco-warrior” to sense this.

Bluntly, it’s long been part of the modern urban experience.

The noises and smells and sights of our life 
are often overwhelmingly human-made, 
and not infrequently harm us.

And we are aware that all is not well with our climate, 
the world’s climate. 
We do pay serious attention to, in this parish, 
and we need to do more.

And, then, yes, of course, there is the virus, 
Coronavirus, Covid-19, which has had such an impact on us,

kept us apart,

kept us (with a couple of exceptions) away from the sacraments,

kept us away from our coffee and toast and chat and ordinary human interaction, through which we care for each other,

still keeps us apart in so many ways.

Is the virus a sign that all is not well within creation itself?

Difficult one.

From the virus’s point of view, all is well, of course.

But from our human perspective, and remembering our duty of care to creation and to one another, especially our vulnerable brothers and sisters,we can only see the virus as another sign of the disorder which is embedded in creation.

Some people on the extreme wing of the politics of this have seen the virus as nature fighting back, clearing out excess human lives to restore balance.

This is a nonsense and that needs saying.

Nature as such does not have a controlling mind, 
does not have a plan, is not playing a strategic game.

Gd, we believe, is a 
mind ultimately in charge, with a plan, over time.

But it’s evident – has always been evident - that Gd gives over some real powers to the natural order, to grow and develop, as, well… as comes naturally.

So we should not say that nature intended Covid-19,

and we are not obliged to say that Gd intended Covid-19.

Really, my point here is that when Paul says all creation is groaning, we feel it.

We get it.

Today of all days.  

*

“We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labour pains until now; and not only the creation, but we ourselves… groan inwardly.”

How we have groaned! How we groan!

We have spoken of a time of exile. And we have felt it.

We have spoken of our time in the desert, confined to our own personal cell (the cell that will teach us everything). And we have felt it.

We have spoken of being overwhelmed by our almost total ignorance about what’s really ahead. And we have felt it.

We have spoken of some frustrations with the powers-that-be, in government and Church. I mean: even when we have agreed with their decision-making, we know we have been at the mercy of others’ best guesses. And we have felt it.

We have spoken of our enormous sadness, 

as people we have known have suffered, and even died,

and as we have come to see ourselves - our own little, Little Ilford, as, for a time, the epicentre of the epicentre of the epicentre.

The sorrow - we have felt it.

We have sought to support each other, through emails and phone calls and parcels left. We (I mean: you) have done well in all that (no question about it), and yet we still feel we offer something meagre, weak, and failing.

Inadequacy - we have felt it.  

How we have groaned! How we groan!

“[N]ot only the creation, but we ourselves… groan inwardly while we wait…”

Yes, present tense. Yes, we are still waiting.

Has there ever been such a bittersweet gathering for us than this one?

It can only be - and we can only feel it to be - a partial gathering.

Some will have no access to this service, either physically or virtually.

We want to invite those livestreaming to participate fully, but there remain all manner of barriers (most obviously to the sacrament itself).

For those who are here in person, we cannot touch.

No tactile peace (not a handshake, let alone the kisses than some of you steal at that point in the service – oh yes, you were always seen!).

No touch at communion, or at the blessing at communion.

And no reassuring hand on the shoulder when difficult - or delightful - news is shared.

For most of us, not even a chance simply to lean over to the person in the next seat just to check what verse we are on in the hymn.

No hymns at all, no song.  

How we groan! We groan while we wait, for we are waiting still!

*

We groan, only we may not groan too loudly.

We are not permitted to project our voices as we’d like to. The ban on singing is the hardest part of this, I know, but it is only part of it. We are to use moderate pitch only, to speak softly and quietly. Again, for our own life-saving safety, and the life-saving safety of others.

It happens that there are religious and spiritual precedents for this. Jewish prayer is often said in a soft, hushed voice. For some Jewish prayer, you should hear what you are saying, but your neighbour should not hear you. And of course in normal circumstances, that means the person immediately to the side of you. The idea may be that this is the best way to concentrate on the words themselves, to attend to the prayer, to intend the content of the prayer. Is that right? Well, now we can test it. We can treat this, then, as an opportunity to pray differently.

The model for this way of praying is Hannah in the Old Testament [1 Sam 1.12ff]. You may remember she prayed in the temple at Shiloh in such a way as to make the priest – the judgemental priest – Eli think she was drunk. He could not make out the words she was mouthing, and so assumed the worst. But she – faithful, confident laywoman – told the priest off. 
She made it clear she was pouring out her deepest longings, her pain and her hope, her hope-against-hope, only in a whispered tone, knowing that a whispered prayer is not less a prayer than a shouted or a chanted prayer.

*

We groan. We speak sotto voce.

And what do we say? 
We too speak of our deepest longings, our pain and our hope, be it hope-against-hope.

And we do more. We may do more. 
We are free to do more.

We are free to place all our longings and pain and hope in a broader context, 
as tear-drops given a home in an ocean.

That ocean can be our confidence that

Gd has not abandoned us;

Gd does not abandon us;

Gd will not abandon us;

Gd is sharing with us in precisely this bittersweet experience.

What makes us have this confidence (or be drawn towards this confidence)?

It is not a philosophy, nor a set of rules, nor an idle tale.

The confidence can be said to rest on one claim.

This is the claim that Gd by Gd’s Spirit has raised Jesus from the dead,

and Jesus Christ remains with us for all time,

in Word and Sacrament and mystical encounter,

as sign and reality of the very presence of Gd.

I’m saying our old friend St Seraphim (who, as you know, greeted everyone, whenever he met them, with: “My joy! Christ is risen!") wasn’t really an eccentric in his core point. 
Every second, minute, hour, day – and most certainly every Sunday – is the Feast of Resurrection.  

So what is to be done?

We go on groaning, with all creation.

We go on all-but-whispering our words, like Hannah.

And (“and” not “but”) we may articulate a heart-felt  [signed] Alleluia.

Like many an alleluia sung in praise, this alleluia does not mean our lives our overflowing with success or comfort or triumph or the resolution of our problems. 
Of course not.

But neither was the first Easter a simple story 
of success or comfort or triumph or resolution 
(think about it).

So, sisters and brothers, let us, here and now, “easter”.

[Signed and then said]

Alleluia. Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Amen.