“Ye see with what large letters I write unto you with my own hand”
Paul’s words have a kind of directness to them, a way of catching our attention, even as he catches our attention yet again when he tells us that he bears in his body “the marks of the Lord Jesus”. Remarkable words, large words, words written, as it were, in the body of our humanity.
The Epistle reading complements wonderfully the Gospel reading. Jesus, too, catches our attention by way of strong words – “behold”, “consider”, “seek” – words which are nestled around his equally arresting and thrice repeated command, “be not anxious”. This, too, captures our attention.
Yet our anxiety gets in the way of our paying attention to anything. It describes much about our present condition. We are quite simply anxious about a multitude of things which we are utterly uncertain about what to do. What to do about the refugee crisis? What to do about the global economy? What to do about fire protection service in our rural communities? What to do … the list goes on. And because it does we are utterly paralysed by our anxieties.
What is the problem? What Paul and Jesus are saying and saying quite strongly is that the problem is with us. We are too much with ourselves. We are anxious precisely because we cannot face ourselves. But that seems utterly paradoxical. We are too much with ourselves and yet we cannot face ourselves? Precisely.
That is why we need the strong, strong words of Christ in the Gospel and the witness to such strong words in Paul’s large letters and his claim to bear in his own body “the marks of the Lord Jesus.” This Gospel is a powerful affirmation of the only real counter to our self-imposed anxieties. Why and How? Because it reminds us that this is God’s world and that we are his creatures, made in his image, who only live when we live for his glory – not, notice, for our own self-aggrandisement; not, notice, for our own security and comforts, isolated from the problems of the world, as if that is all out there, far away, and a problem for others who, shall we say? are just not like us. No, says St. Paul, “I bear” and so must we bear in our own bodies “the marks of the Lord Jesus.” Suffering not anxiety should be what defines us. Precisely what we don’t want to hear and yet these are the large letters, the strong words written for us to read even in the very body of our humanity, “the marks of the Lord Jesus.”
What are those marks? The marks of sacrificial love borne out of a trust in God’s Providence. Here is the astounding thing, the thing which our world cannot comprehend, and yet it is the message, perhaps the profoundest message of the Church to our world. God and only God alone can bring good out of evil. We can’t and when we think we can we become an even bigger part of the problem; it is perhaps the folly of modernity. What is the solution? It is screaming at us in the large letters of St. Paul, in the strong verbs of Jesus, in the thrice-repeated mantra, “be not anxious.” What does it mean? It means our openness to the wonder and the love of God who alone can make things lovely. Only in him can we face rather than flee from the sufferings of our world and day. “O, I have suffered with those that I saw suffer!” as Miranda says in Shakespeare’s play The Tempest. It is one of the finest expressions of true compassion that leads to love and reconciliation, that opens us to the paths of divine providence that has “chalked forth the way” that we should walk in, the way written in large letters and in the marks of compassion in us.
This requires us to see the world with new eyes, with the eyes of Christ who speaks to us of the Father’s love and providential care. It is easy to be dismissive of the simple images presented to us. “Behold, the fowls of the air”; “Consider the lilies of the field”; “Seek ye first the kingdom of God.” The last command illuminates everything. It reminds us that everything is gathered in under the umbrella of the kingdom of God. It is God’s world and we are a part of it. That thought liberates us not to domination and destruction but to love and service, bearing in our own bodies the marks of the Lord Jesus.
What are those marks? The marks of the crucifixion, the marks of redemptive suffering, the marks that reveal the dialectic of grace and glory. What does that mean in the concrete experiences of our everyday lives? It means feeling the pain of our world and day as belonging to Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross.
There we see the largest and the strongest letters written in the flesh of our humanity. “Be not anxious” does not mean ‘chill out,’ ‘relax’, ‘don’t worry’, or anything like that. No. “Be not anxious” means to pay attention to the large letters and marks written in the body and to see in those things something of God’s grace and glory at work in spite of ourselves. Christ crucified is the book of love written to be read in the midst of each and every suffering. It is the story of Christ written in the flesh of each and every one of us.
God seeks to get our attention to save us from the tyranny of ourselves and our world. When we pay attention to God in the pageant of his Word and Sacrament, then, and only then, will we find the quiet strength of purpose and service that allows us to persevere, to help and to serve. It is the only counter to our anxieties.
“Ye see with what large letters I write unto you with my own hand”
Fr. David Curry
Trinity XV, 2015