ALL SAINTS MARGARET STREET

TRINITY 15, 2006

Fr Alan Moses

Evensong & Benediction
All Saints, Margaret Street.

Proper 20 Year B Exodus 19.10-25, Matthew 8.23-34

“What sort of man is this….?

Along the road in Wigmore Street, there is a showroom with displays of expensive bathroom fittings. Rather surprisingly, after the disaster which struck the Indian Ocean a couple of Christmases ago, it is called “Tsunami”: the Japanese word for a tidal wave which is now etched on the consciousness of the world. That wave with its enormous destructive power was caused by an earthquake.

In tonight’s passage from Matthew, the Greek word which is translated “a gale” is “Seismos” which means an earthquake. Matthew is suggesting the awesome power of nature. He does this because he is seeking to answer the question on the lips of the disciples in the boat; the question which has to be answered by all who encounter Jesus then and now: “What sort of man is this?”

The sea and its awesome destructive power, quite beyond the control of human beings, even those who made their living on it, stands in the writings of the Old Testament for the chaos out of which God formed the world. God is the one who has set the limits of the sea; given it its appointed place. So when Jesus commands the wind and waves to be still and there is calm, Matthew is answering the question by saying that Jesus is not just man, he is God. Earlier in the Gospel, in the Sermon on the Mount, he has been portrayed as the new and greater Moses, the teacher of the Law of God. Here Matthew is saying that he is not merely the recipient and conveyer of the Law as Moses was on Sinai, but its giver, its master who had the right to interpret it; the one who brings it to its completion and fulfilment.

If the forces of nature continue to defy our efforts to control them, so that the wisest path is to learn to live I conformity with them, it is equally the case that there are disturbing and frightening forces at work within human beings which we often seem powerless to control. In the time of Jesus the distressing and sometimes terrifying symptoms of mental illness were attributed not to some chemical imbalance or to things which had happened to someone in the past, but to the influence of demonic and evil forces which battled against God.

We may have more knowledge of the causes of mental illness and some idea how to cope with it, but it remains imperfectly understood; our therapies only partially successful; its effects terribly destructive of human lives. Jesus had stilled the external storm which had threatened to engulf the fishing boat and those in it. Now he brings internal calm to these tragic figures whose own lives had been ruined and who instilled fear in those around them.

When the demoniacs say, “What have you to do with us, Son of God? Have you come here to torment us before the time?”, the suggestion is that in Jesus the final victory of God over such forces which mar his creation is already coming to pass.

“What sort of man is this?”

Matthew writes both to record and to answer that question. He also writes to a Church in a particular set of circumstances: to a Church facing storms in this world, the possibility or the reality of persecution; oppression at the hands of the Roman Empire, whose occupying forces all those pigs may well have been there to feed.

The ship of the church, embarked on the sea of this world would be beset by storms then, as indeed it is now: storms of external pressure or internal division. As Jesus slept in the boat, so he often seems asleep, distant, out of touch to us now. Matthew’s belief is that God is there, Christ is with us. At the very end of the Gospel, the risen Christ says to disciples: “lo I am with you always, even to the end of the world.” Even the gates of hell will not prevail against his Church.

Jesus upbraids the disciples for their “little faith”. Is he suggesting that we not turn to God in time of need? No, they do at least have some faith, small as it is and that faith, that desperate prayer is answered. We do I think need to learn to trust in God’s providential care for us. In prayer and worship, in thankfulness, the Spirit teaches us to discern the way God works in our lives and in that of the Church. We need to learn from the example of the saints who have persevered through greater trials than we have.


Late last night Bishop Michael Doe, the General Secretary of USPG and I were travelling back on the Metropolitan Line from a fund-raising concert and supper for the Society in North Harrow. With us was a lady who had been at the concert whom we had not met before. After some discussion of seemingly intractable problems facing both Church and world, she said to us: “How are you able to sleep at night knowing all this?”

If we are honest, there are times when we can’t but in most circumstances we go to bed after entrusting ourselves, those whom we love, our neighbours and colleagues, those we are responsible for, and the world, to God in the prayer of Compline: the brief night office of the Church which teaches us in psalms and readings and prayers to trust in the providential care of God. Like the sleep of Jesus in the storm-tossed boat, our sleep is a sign of trust in God.

“Into thy hands, O Lord, I commend my spirit.”
“I will lay down in peace and take my rest, for it is thou Lord only that makest us dwell in safety.”
“Save us, O Lord, while waking, and guard us while sleeping, that awake we mat watch with Christ and asleep we may rest in peace.”

“Be present, O God, through the silent hours of this night, that we who are wearied by the changes and chances of this fleeting world may repose upon thy eternal chaneglessness.”

We are Christians who believe in the power of liturgical prayer to form our Christian life; to develop in us the virtues vital to that life. Yet, there is a tendency among Christians whose way of worship is centred on ordered and regular and objective liturgical worship to be rather suspicious and sceptical of those who are constantly demanding things of God. There is something true in this suspicion: God is not there to just to supply our demands. What we ask has to be according to his will. Our demands need to be purified if they are to be that.

Our objectivity can become a detachment, unfeeling and unconcerned. It can even be a sort of pride. We see it as somehow rather undignified and unbecoming to ask God for specific things. That is a form of spiritual pride. It can also ve a defence mechanism against our fear. Perhaps we feel in our heart of hearts that our faith is so little that it will not stand the test of being refused some demand by God. Our “little faith” needs to be exercised so that it might grow.

In today’s Collect, we pray with the Church that in our union with Christ we may be found “steadfast in faith and active in service”. Faith is not just a passive acceptance, a recipe for spiritual inertia. There is a moral courage about it; a steadfastness. We are to trust as if everything depends upon God, but to act as if everything depends on us.
Christ is not asleep or absent but present through the Spirit in Church and in world. We are not like the ancient Israelites who feared to set foot on the holy mountain lest they be consumed by the terrifying power of God. Jesus is “Emmanuel, God-with-us”. While we should always treat his presence with reverence and respect, we need not fear to make our petitions to him or despair of his presence with us whatever trials befall us.