ALL SAINTS MARGARET STREET

A Sermon Preached by Fr Gerald Beauchamp at Evensong & Benediction on the Second Sunday after Trinity, 13 June 2010

Readings: Genesis 13; Mark 4. 21 - end

Rembrandt's great painting depicting the second part of this evening's lesson from Mark's Gospel (The Storm on the Sea of Galilee) which he painted in 1633 shows Rembrandt at the height of his powers. It measures roughly 5ft in height x 4ft wide. In making the painting longer than its wide (so it's 'portrait' style as opposed to 'landscape') he achieves the maximum theatrical effect. The waves roar across the painting from left to right hitting the classic 17C ship broadside. The vessel is listing at 45 degrees: its mast traversing the picture; the sails unraveling. If you count how many figures there are in the ship you'll find that there are fourteen: Christ, twelve disciples and Rembrandt himself. Some of the disciples are wrestling with the rigging. Others, clustered around Christ in the stern are watching the miracle unfold. The sky is mainly dark and threatening but a patch is clearing amidst the gloom illuminating the ship. Salvation is at hand.

Any Rembrandt is an important artistic treasure but this Rembrandt is unique because its his only known seascape. And that's a pity because until 1990 it was on public display at that most idiosyncratic of museums of the fine arts, the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in Boston, Massachusetts. Why isn't it on public display any more? Because it was stolen. On 18 March 1990 thieves got in during the night and stole this painting and a number of other major works of art. It remains one of the biggest and unsolved art heists in history. So the painting itself has become a victim of those moral storms that beset us all: theft. Despite the Eighth Commandment ('Thou shalt not steal') it happens all the time. No doubt someone somewhere will be burgled in London this evening. And someone somewhere will have their bag or their wallet stolen.

But theft isn't just a matter of people making off with our goods. It morphs into all sorts of other areas. Think of the current fiscal crisis. You and I are paying for this: higher taxes to come, reductions in the values of our pensions and savings; some may find themselves out of work. A small number of people, however seem to have done very well out of it. Its hard not to sympathize with those who say 'We was robbed.' But before we start pointing the finger we need to remember that we've probably all at some point had something to which we aren't entitled even if its only a postage stamp 'borrowed' from work. The Lord's words about what is hidden coming to light should send a shiver down the spines of all of us. Life may be a matter of give and take but the 'taking' poses some difficult problems. God, however is all gift and God's gifts bring prosperity and/or salvation.

Last week, this evening and for the next five Sunday evenings running the first lesson at Evening Prayer will be from the Book Genesis. A recurrent theme is how the patriarchs experienced the gifts of God mediated through creation. Last week Noah, saved in the Ark with his family and a remnant of creation received the promise of God that the world will never again be brought to the brink of destruction. He is given 'a bow in the clouds' (a rainbow) as a sign of this covenant. This evening, Abram (yet to receive his expanded name, Abraham) is invited by the Lord to look and receive all the land that he surveys. Next Sunday, Isaac is given a wife albeit through a somewhat tortuous process. On Trinity 4 Jacob gains his father's blessing and the following week he wrestles with an angel 'till break of day' and receives the gift of seeing God face to face. The series of readings will end with Joseph receiving the inspiration to interpret dreams triggering a series of events which bring salvation to Egyptian and Hebrew alike.

God is all gift. Human beings give and take yet so often we take in a way that is destructive and unjust. So God desires that we turn away from the dark side; that we repent; that we live life more creatively; that we are more like him. But how? Well, it doesn't seem to happen by just being told. The Ten Commandments shows us that. And Paul the Apostle's tortuous 'the good that I would do I do not do and the evil I would not do I do' in Romans 7 shows us how difficult it is to rewire our souls and bodies, releasing the grip of selfishness and greed. Which is one of the reasons why Jesus told parables. The parables are more than moral tales. They can't be reduced to simple maxims like Aesop's fables. His story of the hare and the tortoise tells us to be steadfast not flighty. But the genius of the parables of Jesus is that they get under our skin. We have to have 'ears to listen.' They work in our hinterland, that place below the surface where things are rooted in the dark: the place where things grow unseen. Human consciousness has been rightly compared to an iceberg: only a fraction appears above the surface. Every over-the-top misplaced emotion (the fit of rage brought on by something trivial) shows that.

The growth that Jesus desires of us and in us is more subtle, more organic, more tangental, more artistic. Jesus paints with a broad brush. He aims for the overall effect. Sometimes he even misses a bit. He missed a bit this evening. He claims that the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed: the smallest of all seeds yet grows into the largest of all shrubs so that even birds start nesting in it. Botanically-speaking, this isn't true. Mustard seed is not the smallest but it is small and the plant that it grows into is not the largest shrub although Brassica Nigra (which is what Jesus would have been talking about) can get up to around 10ft. But the teaching of Jesus is not about quibbling over minutiae. If you get too close to it you can't see the wood from the trees. Its like looking at a painting. You've got to stand back, see it at a distance. You'll learn something about Rembrandt's astonishing technique if you almost press your face against the canvas but that's not the point. Stand back. Keep walking backwards. Look at how the picture comes together the further back you go. See how the drama works. Allow the emotions to swell up inside. Become the fifteenth figure in the boat. Understand the dialogue that emerges as deep calls to deep. That's how to read pictures. That's how to read the scriptures. That's how to listen to Jesus.

We need to put ourselves in the picture like Rembrandt. When we read the bible especially those passages that can be easily visualized we need to ask constantly Where am I in this? How do the parables reveal my hidden life (for better or for worse)? When life's storms overwhelm me; when I think that I am being diminished not enriched by the words or actions of others, what do I do? Despair? Get practical - reach for the sails? Or do I listen to Christ telling me not to be afraid? The problem is that such is the depth of the working of Original Sin that we often think that we aren't worthy of God's gifts. Yet we are. And if we are to be convinced of that then we need constantly to attend, to use every means at our disposal to know that. Which is why last Sunday, this Sunday and for the next five Sundays and indeed every Sunday what we celebrate here with every sense we possess is God's great and abiding gifts. Amen