Readings: Exodus 18:14-24, and Luke 2:41-52.
In a moment of stillness, it is not so hard to find peace. Yet, the thing about moments is they move and change, every moment emerges into the present like a spring comes forth from its source, and moments cannot be held, but pass by like a river of time. In this flux, movement often becomes busyness and the stillness is gone, passed – become a memory – in the busyness of a high street, or school playground our attention is drawn to many fragmented movements – people, or children all with their own purpose and intentions. Whether strangers or friends, conflicts arise when pursuits and movements collide or are thwarted. The interiority of conflict is driven by a battle between wills and desires, for a seeking to control the world we inhabit, in people or in things.
So often humanity tries to create the world in our own image, arranging it according to our own convenience. Fast food, good times, easy wins – in the age of industry this has often been without thought to the environment, or with gratitude for the worker who made our favourite consumer product, and often without a thought given to the complexity of the processes that led to the moment we are.
This movement, this busyness becomes the bubble in which we live – we forget to notice the small, we stop asking the questions for critical thinking – the how, what, where and when – we stop struggling for what is right because we stop asking what is right or ignore it so we may continue our movement. If it works for us and aligns with our desire – that must be good. Fast and furious is a slogan for our times.
Anger and frustration in the world meet at different orders of magnitude, beginning behind the closed doors of individuals that spill out into our families, friendships, the road rage of strangers, the bullying in playgrounds or workplaces, to neighbouring communities and conflicts between nations.
What we do or accept within our own hearts becomes the collective consciousness of our families, communities and of nations. For our lives speak out from within our hearts, and what we say or do is written upon the hearts of others. Children are literally the future we hold in our hearts. So, when we speak, when we act, what are we writing into the story of our future? We must live intentionally with gentleness, and with humility. For we do not live alone, we share our planet with everyone, we can take nothing with us from this world, our temporary home, except the writings upon our soul and the love carried within our hearts.
Therefore, peace begins with us, within every individual peace begins in the cultivation of stillness amid the trials and tribulations, amid the busyness – for we are called to live as that touch of heaven in the life of the world. Not to say that anyone of us represents the face of Christianity alone – Christ is the face of Christianity, to be Christian is to love – to love Jesus – and belong to Him in that love – each of us equally flawed, and equal in our needs.
In these readings today, we find Moses subject to the busyness of a heavy workload, followed in our second reading by Mary and Joseph searching anxiously for Jesus. The selection of these two bible scriptures is taken from their juxtaposition in a medieval window of Canterbury Cathedral, related to each other by the theme of humility. [1]
Humility is a theme woven through the heart of the scriptures, from ancient times to the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, to the acts of the Apostles, and to the saints we know today. Humility, C.S. Lewis wrote, ‘is not thinking less of yourself, but thinking of yourself less’.
In Canterbury Cathedral’s North Choir aisle, the third typological window dated to the late 12th century keeps some of its original settings in the images of Christ among the doctors, and Moses receiving advice from Jethro.
Moses, through divine providence was saved as a baby from the clutches of death to be brought up among riches and the honour of status as a prince among a people. Yet, as an outcast he was a free man who settled in a new place as a stranger, and in this new life Moses was to work for his father-in-law Jethro as a shepherd for forty years, before being sent back to lead out a nation. A life transformed yet chosen by God as a prophet of the Most High, who spoke with God face to face, but still Moses listens to Jethro, a Gentile, and in taking his advice he stands as a type, pointing forward to humility as a pattern for the proud of heart.
Jethro, in essence, is setting up a principle of social organisation, of subsidiarity in suggesting disputes are first handled at lower levels. In teaching others the principles of God’s decrees and instruction, Moses is feeding his new flock with the word from above. The distribution of authority, and of delegation involves people in their own futures, it invites people to take responsibility at an immediate stage – this enables people to seize the day, to not wait aimlessly for someone else to judge for them or us, but to actively participate in justice – to live out truth in the place and moment that they, and we are.
If we are to flourish from generation to generation, we do not just pass on genes as our inherited characteristics, but we also pass on the wisdom of the wise, the word of God made manifest by all people, all who wrestle with God were as we are, trying to navigate a path of holiness between the mystery of our faith and the world as we see and comprehend it.
As the twelve-year-old Jesus sits in the midst of the doctors we have the humility of God listening to men. God participating in the nature of mankind and walking with us as one who was tested in every way as we are, our God whose ways are higher than our ways, experienced our humanity in the change and chances of life as we do (Hebrews 4:15). In the same stained-glass window we also find the six ages of man and the six ages of the world, in them we recognise our finitude and perhaps on contemplation a mutual wonder for the particular space and time in the life we are each given on this beautiful planet.
Yet contrast this vulnerability of Christ to the mystery of our God unchanging, we are reminded that it is us who move – it is we who are free to turn toward or away from Him, therefore we cannot say God is on our side, because it is us who align ourselves with Him and His will (Luke 22:42) for humility’s sake, so that no one may boast. Therefore, it is written – ‘Be still and know that I am God.’ Psalm 46:10.
St. Isaac the Syrian, a seventh century hermit, suggested that humility ‘turns demons to dust, as if they stood before the LORD’ [2]. Humility is relational, it deals squarely with our vulnerabilities for we have to confront them in a manner of truth and realism.
Humility and peace go hand in hand. In the busyness of our days how do we hold on to the humility woven through the heart of scripture? We are to remember though the mountains may fall and the earth be removed, we weep with those who weep, and rejoice with those who rejoice (Psalm 46:2, Romans 12:15) – for they are us and we are they. We are to listen well to the LORD, for to do so is to seek Him and enter into His presence, coming before Him, as Moses did – with the touch of a spiritual light from the fire of love upon our face.
Turning again to the words of St. Isaac the Syrian, he wrote: ‘The ladder to the Kingdom is hidden within you, and within your soul. Dive into yourself, away from sin, and there you will find the steps by which you can ascend.’ [Hom, 2, B 12].
Consciousness is the intrinsic value of every human being that makes us not objects, but souls. Our soul then, like the Church, is a house of prayer – a place of opening where the mercy of God embraces us. Therefore, let us repent and strive for humility, for the Kingdom of heaven is near, it is in our mouths and in our hearts. (Deuteronomy 30:14).
Amen.
[1] The Stained Glass Windows of Canterbury Cathedral, A guide for Visitors and Students by Bernard Rackham, Canterbury S.P.C.K. 1957.
[2] unknown