1 Corinthians 15. 1-11, Luke 5.1-11
Yesterday, a group of our more energetic church members
walked from Seal to the mother church of our Diocese, Rochester Cathedral. I
joined them for the last five miles or so of their 18 mile trek, which may seem
like cheating a bit, but I thought I had better leave myself some energy for
this morning… Some of the journey was great.
Some of it was hard going. The rain poured down towards the end, but our
spirits weren’t dampened – or not much at any rate. There may have been a
blister or two along the way, but everyone made it to the end, and no one got
lost. There are some photos here, and I’m sure any of our
pilgrims will be happy to supply a few travellers’ tales if you ask them.
The choice of the choir anthem for today – “How beautiful upon
the mountains are the feet of them that bringeth glad tidings” – wasn’t
entirely prompted by the Rochester walk, but it seemed appropriate. I don’t
know how beautiful the feet of our walkers are this morning, but I hope they
felt they were bearers of glad tidings, to each other if not to anyone else,
encouraging each other on the journey.
Pilgrimage is an ancient custom, of course. Pilgrims have
walked as our walkers did since the
Middle Ages, going to Rochester or Canterbury, or even heading to the channel
ports at the beginning of longer journeys to Compostela or Jerusalem.
Pilgrimage isn’t just a feature of Christianity either. Muslims make pilgrimage
to Mecca, Hindus to the Ganges, and long ago our pre-Christian forebears seem
to have headed for places like Stonehenge at significant moments too. There’s
probably always been an element of simple fun and curiosity about pilgrimage
– an excuse for a change of scene and a
break from routine – but for most who make these sacred journeys there is much
more to them than that. It isn’t just the destination that’s important. True
pilgrimage is about the journey itself; what you learn on the way about
yourself, about your fellow pilgrims and about God. It’s been said that a pilgrimage is “a
journey in search of itself” – you have to make it to find out what it is about,
and sometimes it’s not until afterwards, looking back, that you see its
significance. The power of pilgrimage is that, in some sense it is a symbol,
even a microcosm, of life itself. It is a reminder that the whole of life is a
pilgrimage. We are all pilgrims, on a journey through our lives, finding the
way, losing the way, coming to turning points and forks in the road, sometimes walking
through the sunlit uplands, sometimes battling grimly through mud and rain,
enjoying the company of our fellow travellers, or feeling at odds with them,
yet knowing we all somehow need each other.
Our pilgrimage was timed to coincide with this Patronal
Festival weekend, of course, and it’s a very appropriate way to celebrate it,
because our Patron Saints, Peter and Paul, travelled great distances
themselves, not only physically, taking the Gospel out into the world, but
spiritually as well. Their lives were pilgrimages which took them along very
different routes as they journeyed with God. We are given glimpses of their
journeys in our readings today.
St Paul’s faith journey was dramatic and unexpected. “I
am the least of the apostles” he says – the least of those send out to
proclaim the good news of Christ - “because
I persecuted the church of God.” He had started out bitterly opposed to
Jesus and his followers. He didn’t change his mind until he was struck down,
dramatically, on the road to Damascus, where he was heading to root out and
arrest members of the church. He was the last person anyone could have imagined
becoming a Christian, but the fact that the community he’d once persecuted
accepted, loved and forgave him transformed him completely. There is a lot in
his writings about forgiveness, inclusion and the breaking down of barriers –
he preached this message because he knew its truth and power in his own life.
Peter’s pilgrimage of faith was different, in some ways less
dramatic, a more gradual process. The Gospel story we heard today wasn’t the
first time Jesus and Simon had met – Simon was his birth name, and it’s the
name he is mostly called in this passage. In the stories in Luke’s Gospel that
lead up to this one, Jesus had arrived in Capernaum, Simon’s home town, by the
side of the sea of Galilee. His first port of call was the synagogue. He’d made
quite an impact there, healing a man possessed by demons. We don’t know if
Simon was present – if he was, it’s not mentioned - but straight afterwards
Jesus headed for Simon’s house for some reason- we’re not told why. And when he
got there he discovered that he had walked right into the middle of a crisis.
Simon’s mother in law was ill with a fever, a dangerous thing in the days
before antibiotics. With one word from Jesus, though, the fever abated, and she
was healed. Again, we don’t know whether Simon was present – he’s not
mentioned. If he was there, he was in the background, apparently saying and
doing nothing.
Jesus went on with his mission, healing and preaching, and
at some point, perhaps days later, maybe weeks, he came back to the shore at
Capernaum. A great crowd gathered around
him, but again, Simon wasn’t one of them. He was nearby, mending his nets, but
seeming to take no notice of what was going on until Jesus asked to borrow his
boat. Even when Jesus suggested directly to him, after the crowds had gone,
that he put out into deep waters to let down his nets again, Simon was politely
sceptical. Simon didn’t mind humouring
him – after all they were out on the lake now anyway – but he didn’t expect
anything to come of it. What did a carpenter from Nazareth, 20 miles inland,
know about fishing?
Of course, the rest is history; the nets were filled to
bursting point. Simon had never seen anything like it.
This is the moment when it finally sinks into Simon’s heart
that Jesus is not only a man with a message, but also a man with a message for
him. This demonstration of the
generosity of God touched something deep in Simon – we know nothing of his life
before this, but maybe he had grown up, as so many people do, expecting very
little out of life and not feeling worthy of more. Now he discovers a God who gives
him more than he can ask or imagine, just as he is. At first, Simon falls to his knees and begs
Jesus to leave him – a common reaction in the Bible when people realise they
are in the presence of someone or something holy. But Jesus takes no notice,
and far from going away, he calls Simon to follow him, and eventually he will
call him to lead the church too.
The pilgrimages of Peter and Paul – their journeys through
life - are very different . One starts from a position of indifference and
apathy, and the other starting from fanaticism and bitter hatred. Paul is
suddenly turned around by God, but Peter’s change of direction is a gradual
one. It’s good to have these two very different stories to ponder. I wonder
which is more like your own? You are
here today, and something has drawn you here, but what is it? If you could draw
a map that described your pilgrimage to this point, what would it look like?
Maybe it would be a dead straight line, with never a doubt, never a question –
not many are like that, but if that’s yours then that’s fine. Maybe you have
gone along every diversion and back alley possible and are amazed to find
yourself here at all. Maybe you’ve gone
backwards and forwards on the path – David Cameron once memorably described his
faith as like the radio signal for Magic FM in the Chilterns, coming and going.
Maybe you have very deliberately walked away at some point, and then come back
again. Maybe you are hovering at the entrance, on the way in, or tempted to
leave. Maybe you are at a fork in the road, aware of a nagging sense that God
is calling you in a new direction. Maybe you are eager to explore that, or
maybe inside you are kicking and screaming against it, sitting down stubbornly
and refusing to go on at all. If you want to talk about your pilgrimage, your
journey of faith, where you are now, and where you might be heading, do make a
time to come and chat – I will be glad to travel with you.
Our pilgrims yesterday knew the route they had to follow, or
at least they knew someone who did – Stephen had prepared it impeccably. Our
journeys through life are not like that. Even if we think we know where we are
going, and think we can imagine the route ahead, the future can’t be mapped and
predicted precisely. All we can do is listen, as we travel, for the voice of
God, and trust that however unlikely the path looks, he will be with us on
it. And vague though that sounds, it’s
enough for me, because where God is,
there will always be blessing, love as abundant as the fish which filled
Peter’s nets, forgiveness as freely given as that which Paul found.
That’s good news for all of us in our individual pilgrimages
thorough life, and good news for us as a nation at this time of change and
turbulence. Let’s make sure that wherever the path leads us, we look for God’s
presence, so that we can “bring glad tidings” to those around us.
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