The liturgy for Ash Wednesday offers us an opportunity to stop, to reflect on who we are and to whom we belong – to adopt an attitude of humility, hit the reset button, and begin again.

We are invited to stand still in the whirlwind of life and the multiple activities that surround us on all sides and remember:

God hates nothing God has made; God forgives the sins of all who are penitent; our God is the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness.

And as if all this is not enough, the reminder that we “are dust, and to dust we shall return” ought to put our lives in Christ into a proper perspective of humility.

Of course, this is made visible and tangible with the imposition of ashes, traditionally made from the Palm Sunday crosses from the previous year. This act retraces the Baptismal Cross on our foreheads as a reminder of the promises we make each time we renew our Baptismal vows:

• to participate in the full life of the Body of Christ, his Church
• to say we are sorry whenever we have violated our relationships with God and others, all others
• that everything we do and say will proclaim the Good News of Jesus Christ
• that we will seek and serve Christ in all persons
• that we will strive for justice and peace for all people, and respect the dignity of every human being

The Church has long recognised how challenging it is to keep these core promises that constitute walking in the Way of Christ. This is why we set aside these forty days each year for self-examination and repentance; prayer, fasting, and self-denial; to read and meditate on God’s holy Word.

The ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us not only of our mortality and need for regular repentance, but also that it is only by God’s gracious gift that we are given everlasting life through Jesus Christ.

Although we are to remember that we are dust, and to dust we shall return, we ought never to forget that we are Holy Dust, created and inspired by the very breath and Spirit of God.

Just as Moses was reminded by the burning bush that he was standing on Holy Ground, so the ashes of Ash Wednesday remind us that everywhere we stand, everywhere we walk, every speck of dust is Holy Ground – and that we are made Holy from the moment of our very first breath. Receiving these ashes is meant to remind us of these humbling and defining truths.

Next to the Cross itself, there is no more tender and revealing moment in God’s Holy Word than that proclaimed on Ash Wednesday by the prophet Joel, who in days of great darkness and gloom calls the people of God to a solemn assembly to pray for deliverance. Yet, amid this call to return to the Lord with all our hearts, the prophet reminds us of God’s very essence, and then imagines just how much the Lord our God loves us:

“Yet even now, says the Lord,
return to me with all your heart,
with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning;
rend your hearts and not your clothing.
Return to the Lord, your God,
for he is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love,
and relents from punishing.
Who knows whether he will not turn and relent,
and leave a blessing behind him,
a grain offering and a drink offering
for the Lord, your God?”

When we are enveloped with such darkness and gloom that we are unable to make the appointed sacrifices to God, unable to turn our hearts and minds back to God on our own, the prophet imagines that the Lord God himself will make the appointed sacrifices himself, leaving a grain offering and a drink offering on our behalf – which offerings constitute the essence of our Holy Communion. We are those people who, like the prophet, can imagine that God enters our lives and leaves an offering and blessing for us every Sunday – because our God is the God who is “gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.”

This realisation of God’s love and care for us brings us to our knees and a Litany of Repentance in which we rehearse all the possible ways in which we stray from the way of the Lord God, the Way of Christ. It is after this remarkable and thorough confession that the reset button is pressed, and we are forgiven by Almighty God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, so that the rest of our life hereafter may be pure and holy, and that at the last we may come to his eternal joy.

Ash Wednesday is a day to stop, reflect on who we are and to whom we belong, to adopt an attitude of humility, and hit the reset button of our life in Christ. A day to remember that we are dust, but that we are Holy Dust, animated by God’s own breath. For it is God’s own Spirit that enlivens us and sustains us, day in and day out. A day to remember that God loves us so much as to make sacrifices for us when we are unable to do so ourselves. A day to allow God in Christ to forgive us so that we might live the rest of our lives reflecting the very love that God has for us and for all of creation. A day that we may remind ourselves with great humility to love God, love all others, and love all of creation itself. For that is what it means to be the Holy Dust of God!

Amen.

* Exodus 34:29-35 * Psalm 99 * 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 * Luke 9:28-36, (37-43a)

In the coming week, churches around the world will undergo a transformation of sorts, as the liturgical calendar moves us from the season after Epiphany into the season of Lent. Our praise-filled shouts of “Alleluia!” will give way to Lent’s solemn petition, “Lord have mercy.”

Many churches will put away their finest brass and festive hangings in favour of simpler and more contemplative objects. And the lectionary will lead us down from the mountaintop where the transfigured Christ is revealed in glory, through the valley of the shadow of death, and ultimately to Jerusalem where the cross and tomb await.

Lent can weigh very heavily on some of us as it urges us to recall the suffering and death of our Lord. So, in many ways, we arrive at this final Sunday before Lent with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, a combination of joy and dread. It is no accident that every year on this Sunday, we hear again the story of Christ’s transfiguration on the mountaintop because, at the heart of this story, we find these all-too-familiar feelings: anticipation diluted by anxiety and joy thinned by dread.

Luke’s Gospel tells us that Jesus summons Peter, James, and John to the mountain top. Without understanding the context, we might be tempted to believe that the chosen disciples happily agreed and gleefully followed Jesus without any reservation. But, we must recall that just a few verses earlier in chapter 9, Jesus tells the disciples that he must undergo great suffering, be rejected, killed, and then rise from the dead.

“If any want to become my followers,” Jesus says, “let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will save it.”

As Peter, James, and John journey with Jesus to the mountain top, they are forced to come to grips with the horrifying truth that Jesus, their beloved friend and leader, must suffer and die!

When they reach the top of the mountain, the Gospel tells us that Jesus was transfigured before them and Moses and Elijah appeared. As the disciples looked at their Lord, they realised that they were in the very presence of God. But even in this incredible moment of divine transfiguration, Peter could not forget what Jesus had told them before they came to the mountain.

“Master, it is good for us to be here,” Peter says, “Let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

At some level, most of us can’t help but sympathise with Peter. Who among us would knowingly submit our self or our loved ones to pain and suffering? Peter’s efforts to protect Jesus are undoubtedly acts of love and devotion – but they are also acts resulting from Peter and the disciples’ need for safety and security. They had seen a glimpse of God’s glory in the face of Jesus, and they wanted desperately to hold onto it, to protect it.

But the moment that Peter gets into cahoots with James and John to try and hold onto and protect Jesus, is the moment that a voice from above breaks in, proclaiming: “This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!”

And notice what happens next: As the disciples came down from the mountain top, they didn’t rush into the closest town and tell the first person they saw about what they had just witnessed. They didn’t wait until Jesus wasn’t looking to talk about it. And they didn’t take to Social Media with the news. Luke’s Gospel tells us that they “told no one any of the things they had seen.”

Although most biblical scholars interpret the disciples’ silence as a mark of fear about what they had seen and heard – which is certainly a plausible explanation – so perhaps there’s more than one dimension here. What if the disciples’ silence allowed them to be obedient to God’s command?

The disciples had heard God say, “This is my Son, my chosen; listen to him!” So instead of running and telling the world what they had seen on the mountain, what if they chose instead to obey; to be silent so that they could listen?

In a world bustling with noise and chaos, where words and rhetoric are shouted with impunity, stirring up fear and anxiety, perhaps this is the word from the Lord that we need to hear.

Amidst all of the joys and heartbreaks of the world; in the face of all of the delight and despair that surrounds us; and despite all of the things we know and can never know, God beckons us, ever so gently: Listen.

Imagine for a moment, what the world might look like if we listened – not in preparation to respond, but in order to understand.

What might our politics look like if we listened more and argued less? What might our schools look like if we taught our children how to listen as intently and deliberately as we taught them how to speak and to write? And what might our churches look like if we listened intently for the voice of God from those who differ from us?

In his book, Bread for the Journey, the Catholic priest and theologian Henri J.M. Nouwen writes:

“To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations. True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known. They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept… The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves. Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you.”

As our Lenten journey approaches, and the chaos of the world presses in with voices of despair clanging in our ears, may we remember how to listen. For it is in listening that we truly hear one another.

And it is in listening that we hear the voice of God.

Amen.

* Genesis 45:3-11, 15 * Psalm 37:1-11, 39-40 * 1 Corinthians 15:35-38, 42-50 * Luke 6:27-38

Old Mrs Cameron was celebrating her one hundredth birthday.

She’d received her telegram from the King. She’d been made a fuss of by her grandchildren and great grandchildren and now she was being interviewed by a reporter from the Raggy.

“One hundred years old” the young reporter exclaimed. “You must have done so much in all those years! Tell me what are you most proud of?”

After a moment or two, Mrs Cameron responded, “Well, I don’t think I have a single enemy in all the world”.

“What a beautiful thought! How inspirational!” said the reporter.

“That’s right, not one enemy in all the world” the old girl said,

“I’ve outlived every last one of them!”

For many people, even those of us who identify ourselves as Christians, this morning’s gospel passage may be one of the most difficult in all of our holy scriptures.

Love your enemies.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes that expression seems to me to describe an ideal that feels totally unrealistic and unattainable.

In contrast to the humourous little story I told you about old Mrs Cameron (which of course was entirely fictional – but possibly reflects the real attitude of many), I want to tell you a true story.

It’s the story of Maria Goretti.

Maria was an Italian peasant girl who is remembered both for her extreme devotion and for her tragic death at a young age.

Born in 1890 in Corinaldo, Italy, Maria was the youngest of the five children in her family. Her childhood was marked by poverty and hardship, and her parents struggled to make ends meet. But Maria was known for her deep devotion to her faith and for her love of prayer. Despite the difficulties of her life, she was said to be a joyful and generous child, always willing to help others.

In 1902, at the age of 11, Maria was attacked and stabbed by a 19 year old neighbour, Alessandro Serenelli. Despite her severe injuries, Maria forgave her attacker and asked that he be forgiven before she sadly died of her injuries the following day.

Maria’s death and her forgiveness of her attacker made a profound impact on those around her and quickly spread throughout the local community. Serenelli, her attacker, was arrested, tried and convicted of her murder, and served 30 years in prison. He later converted to Christianity and credited Maria’s forgiveness and her intercession for his redemption.

Maria’s mother, Assunta, also forgave Serenelli and testified on his behalf at his trial.

A true story of forgiveness.

We live today in a world of great turmoil – of terrorism, a world full of violence and murder, of vicious vendettas and wars that are often stirred up in the tabloid press and online media. Is Jesus really saying to us that acts like these are not to be avenged?

In order to understand what Jesus is really saying to us, we have to put aside our prejudices and assumptions and really listen to his words.

“Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who treat you badly.”

In the Old Testament hatred and vengeance towards evildoers was presumed to be the right attitude to have. But Jesus, as he so often does, turns this on its head and calls for an attitude of love towards the enemy and the persecutor.

Often, the first big hurdle for us is the word “love”. It is of course a very emotional word, implying both affection and intimacy. For us to “love” is often to “be in love with”, to “be attracted to”.

But Jesus is not telling us to be in love with our enemies. He is not even telling us to like them.

Rather he is telling us to express the kind of love that God has for us. It is a one-sided love in the sense that a return is not expected. God reaches out in infinite love to every single person without exception.

Our problem is that we can sometimes focus too much on ourselves and our own immediate needs and so overlook the needs of others.

To love as God loves is to focus more on others.

To begin to ask “Why do they act in this way? What is hurting inside them that drives them to such behaviour?” Already we are just by thinking in this way, beginning to care for our enemy and beginning to love him or her.

And is this not a much better solution to the problem? To bring peace back into that person’s life and initiate a healing process in them and between them and me.

Jesus is not at all asking us to do something “unnatural”. We do not naturally want to hate or be hated. We want to love and to be loved.

We see many parts of the world where – for years – there has been a process of hatred and retaliation in a never-ending spiral of vengeance and loss of life.

The only way to break this cycle is to follow Jesus’ advice. It is not a lose-lose or lose-win situation; it is a win-win situation where everyone benefits.

Perhaps these words of the late Mother Teresa are appropriate here:

“Love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise, there is no love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me.”

To put Jesus’ teaching into effect is not a matter of strengthening our will to do something very difficult but to change our conventional thinking at the deepest level, to see things his way. Once we do that, it becomes much easier.

And, through us, the compassion of God can then be experienced by all people.

To end today, let me tell you about Myriam.

In December 2014, a children’s television crew visited Iraqi Kurdistan, where they planned to tell the stories of child refugees who had fled from ISIS. But in a camp in Erbil, something even more profound took place. Presenter Essam Nagy met a little girl who would change his life and inspire millions around the world.

Nine-year-old Myriam was from Qaraqosh, the largest Christian town in the Nineveh plains. She loved watching this particular children’s programme and was delighted to talk to the presenter on camera.

Despite her suffering, Myriam said she felt grateful to God for protecting her family and providing for them. Then, the presenter asked her how she felt about the ISIS fighters who had seized her hometown – and Myriam spoke the words that would resonate with millions.

“I will only ask God to forgive them,” she said. Did Myriam forgive them herself? Yes, she replied – without missing a beat.

Myriam’s words were powerful because they show the heart of the Christian faith. Some of Jesus’ last words on earth were, ‘Father, forgive them, because they don’t know what they are doing.’ Myriam’s testimony shows the same faith.

I’m going to finish with the words with which Myriam finished her interview –

“God is always protecting you, and you can count on Him,” she says. Then, with a light in her eyes, she speaks about Jesus. “He is my friend, my brother … my everything.”

Amen

* Jeremiah 17:5-10 * Psalm 1 * 1 Corinthians 15:12-20 * Luke 6:17-26

Over the next couple of weeks, the season of Epiphany draws to a close. If there is a single central theme or image to Epiphany, it is ‘light’.

Epiphany begins with the light of the star leading the Wise Men to Bethlehem and many of our readings and collects in this season are threaded with the image of light.

Luke’s telling of the beatitudes, which we just heard, fits right in with this because the purpose of the beatitudes is to shed some new light on an old subject. But in order to truly understand what’s going on, we need to know what that old subject is. Without that, it is easy to misunderstand these powerful sayings.

For example, it is all too easy to imagine that the beatitudes are about us; that they are commands for how we should live, and what we should do. So, we might imagine that Jesus is telling us, or at least telling some of us, that we should ‘go out there and become poor’, or that we should ‘learn how to weep more’, or ‘become more persecuted’.

If this really is what Jesus is up to, then I think he is pretty much wasting his time. After all, advice like that, whether given by Jesus or by anybody else, usually does nothing more than make us feel frustrated and guilty. We might think that it might be sweet and humble to be a bit more ‘weepy for Jesus’; but it is pretty unlikely that most of us would set out to do it. Bedsides, does being poor, or weeping, or being persecuted really count if you do it on purpose in order to get blessed? That somehow doesn’t seem right.

The harder you try to make these odd sayings into ‘marching orders’, the less sense they make. Besides which, nowhere in the beatitudes is there a command or directive to us or to anybody. Nowhere does Jesus use the imperative, nowhere does he give any orders or requirements. The entire section is in the indicative. Jesus is simply describing reality, he is not telling the disciples, or us, or anybody else, to do anything.

And that’s because The Beatitudes are not really about us; they are not a set of instructions on how we should live, or what we should do.

But if they are not about us, what are they about? If they don’t shine any light on how we are supposed to behave, then what are they good for?

Some people think that their meaning has been for the world. That is, the beatitudes have been presented as ways to help people live well in the word; or at least as things to do that will make the world a better place.

It has been suggested that if we would only become spiritually poor or hungry, or persecuted, that this will bring out the best in others and that they will be the better because of it. So, sooner or later, people will realise how nice and valuable we are and give us what we want. Or, by and by the whole world will end up being a much better place for all involved; and everyone will somehow come out on top in the long run. So the beatitudes become a handy tool, a cosmic way to win friends, influence people, and clean up our communities.

The problem with this, of course, is that it is just plain silly. You can only believe that the world respects and responds kindly to the sort of behaviour found in the beatitudes if you know absolutely nothing about the world.

In reality, things just don’t work like that. If you turn the other cheek, you will probably end up with two sore cheeks. And being poor now, spiritually or especiall, physically, will probably ensure that you won’t get very far in the real world of business, politics, or industry. That’s just the way it is, and that’s the way it always has been, and Jesus was no fool. He knew that. In the Beatitudes Jesus was not trying to shine any light on how the world works.

If there is a point here about the world, it is really that, as far as the world is concerned, the beatitudes don’t make any sense at all. There is nothing rational about living the beatitudes with the hope that it will result in a more successful or prosperous life.

Yet still, the beatitudes shine light, but they really don’t shine any light about the way the world works. They are not about the world, just like they are not about telling us how to act.

The beatitudes are about God, they are about who God is, and who God blesses, and what the kingdom of God is like. They tell us what matters to God, they tell us who is especially important to God, and they tell us what God pays attention to.

Now, Jesus gives us this surprising information about God hoping, no doubt, that such knowledge may have a valuable effect on us. But that is up to us.

In the beatitudes, and the entire Sermon on the Mount, Jesus offers us his picture of God’s values and God’s priorities; and he offers them as an alternative to the vision of life we usually carry around with us.

We can only act on what we can see; and Jesus is giving us the chance to see further, and clearer, and deeper than ever before. The idea is that if we can see, really see, who God considers blessed, or happy, then we will at least know the road to blessedness, and perhaps be able to use that knowledge.

The beatitudes are a glimpse into the heart and mind of God. Again, they don’t tell us what our world is like. We already know that so well that we assume that anything of value will work really well in and with this world. Jesus is trying to shake us loose from that assumption, and give us a different vision of life, one that has its foundations, not in the world, but in the very nature of God.

Jesus tells us that the world’s insignificant players, the losers, are blessed by the Father, and he tells us this so we can know a little better who the Father is. He tells us this to give us a bit more light so we can see a little better.

Now, of course what we do with that is up to us. Remember, we are not getting a whole list of moral laws here. We are being offered a new vision of our world and our lives. The point is not that we must obey a rule that says ‘thou shalt be poor and persecuted’. The point is that, by this light, we can look at the mind of God and discover all sort of new possibilities.

So, we have some new light on God. And a question. The question is: if God is really like this; if God has the preferences and the priorities of the beatitudes, then what could that mean?

How could our lives be different, how could you be different?

That’s the issue, and that is the question Jesus leaves us with. It’s a good question, and worth considering in your life.

* Isaiah 6:1-8, (9-13) * Psalm 138 * 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 * Luke 5:1-11

This week our sermon begins with a ‘Fishy Quiz’

Can you guess these five fish from their descriptions:

1. This fish will make you laugh.
2. This fish will help if your piano doesn’t sound quite right.
3. This fish is perfect for people who re-enact 15^th century battles.
4. This fish is for you if you like to glide across frozen ponds in the winter.
5. This fish is the one that would help your parrot take a rest.

(If you are reading online, please see the end of this sermon for the answers)!

Today’s gospel is a story about fishing, but it is not about fish! It’s a story where Peter and others come to the lake wanting to catch fish, but actually, deep down, there is something else they really desire – a desire beyond their immediate desire.

I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if you might be thinking to yourself, “What in the world is Simon talking about?” That’s a good and legitimate question, but stay with me because I am asking that today we “put out into the deep water” where we can neither see nor touch the bottom, where we can’t know what might be down there or what might be coming to us from the deep. Peter and the others in our story surely had no idea what would happen when they let down their nets, and sometimes, neither do we!

On the surface it would be easy to hear today’s story as one in which Jesus fulfils the desires of Peter and the others; the desire to catch fish, the desire to be successful, the desire to make a living. But I’m not sure that that is all that is going on here. I think there is more to this than fish, success and making a living.

Here’s why I say that – what did they do with the fish, their success and the money they would have made at the market once they got back to shore? Well, we are told – they left everything and followed Jesus. They walked away. Those things were not the end of the story but the beginning of the story. Their initial desires took them to the lake, but it was a “desire beyond their immediate desire” that called them beyond the lake.

Most of us will know what that’s like because I think most of us will have experienced that too. I wonder if you have had times in your life when you said, “If only I could …” and then fill in the blank with whatever it is you thought would fulfil you; “go here, do this, get that, find the right woman or man, have a child or grandchild, get that job or promotion, buy a new house, be given a particular opportunity.” And then one day you went, you did, you got and maybe it turned out exactly like you wanted or not at all like you expected, but either way you were still left with a yearning – in time the feeling that there was something more returned and you felt a desire for something else calling you onwards.

That doesn’t mean those things we desired were bad or that we were wrong. It just means that even within those things there is a “desire beyond desire.”

Now you and I know that not every desire is fulfilled, we don’t always get what we expect and not every twist or turn in our lives leaves us feeling happy. That’s just not how life works. We’ve all experienced that side of life. We’ve seen relationships break down or we’ve experienced a sudden change in our financial security. We’ve had loved ones pass away well ‘before their time’ or we feel we’ve become lost and ignored.

We get it when Peter says, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing.” But it’s that “desire beyond desire” that keeps us going, that will not allow us to say, “This is it. It’s over. Let’s just wash the nets and go home.”

It was the “desire beyond desire” that let Peter answer Jesus, “Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” Jesus knew Peter had a deeper desire. Jesus did not magically fill Peter’s nets. He touched Peter’s deeper desire and if we open our hearts to him, that’s what he does for us. We all have that same deeper desire within us.

We want to connect with and be known by something beyond what we can acquire, what we can gain or accomplish for ourselves. We want meaning and fullness in our lives. We want our lives to matter and count for something. We want to feel alive. We want to be whole and complete. We want to experience and live in the good, the true and the beautiful – we want life in all its abundancy. Isn’t that how you want to live and what you want for yourself and those you love? That’s our “desire beyond desire.” And Jesus is the one calling us, guiding us and walking with us.

And what if those times and places in which we feel stuck, frustrated, empty, restless, disappointed, as if we’ve missed the boat, are the deep waters into which we are asked to let down our nets? Jesus did not let Peter and the others run away from their exhaustion, their disappointment and their empty nets. He sent them back to the deep water to let down their nets and they “were amazed at the catch of fish,” “so many fish that their nets were beginning to break”.

Are you exhausted and frustrated with your life?

Do you feel unfulfilled and restless?

Do you feel stuck and like you’ve missed the boat?

Maybe this is the moment when you are being asked to let down your nets.

Instead of washing them up and going home, open your eyes, your ears and your heart to the deep waters of life. Be attentive to what lies below the surface. Make yourself open and available to the “desire beyond desire.” It is always unfolding before us and it is never just one thing. It comes to us in a thousand different ways. It changes throughout the seasons and circumstances of our lives.

That “desire beyond desire” is why we still cast our nets even after a night of having caught nothing. It’s why we struggle to do the right thing and to live with integrity. It’s why we forgive and make amends. It’s why we speak for justice and the dignity of every human being. It’s why we open our hearts and risk loving. It’s why we get up each morning and “put out into the deep water.”

Every day something new is coming to us. And so each of us had better be ready – that’s not a threat, that’s about the promise of new life, the gift contained in our “desire beyond desire.” Don’t miss it. Stay awake and alert, in expectation and hope. Put out into deep water and let down your nets!

May God bless you and all those you hold dear in this coming week.

Amen

Fr Simon

Quiz

1. Clown Fish
2. Tuna
3. Pike
4. Skate
5. Perch