Crayle Sermon 2008

This year’s Crayle sermon was given on 3rd February by the Revd Alan Moses, Vicar of All Saints, Margaret Street

‘Jesus took with him Peter and James and his brother John and led them up a high mountain, by themselves.’

A couple of weeks ago we were in Cyprus enjoying a break after Christmas. One day we drove up into the mountains. The goal of our journey was to visit the monastery at Kikkos, the most important in Cyprus — not least nowadays because it was the monastery of Archbishop Makarios, the first president of independent Cyprus. He is buried close by, even further up the mountain.

The monastery is situated in the kind of place you would expect, ‘far from the madding crowd’ — although to judge by the size of the recently built restaurant they must get quite a crowd in the summer months. It has been splendidly and expensively restored — one suspects with a helping hand from the government. On another day, dragging ourselves away from sitting by the pool with a book, we went to visit another monastery further up the coast. When we got there, we found that it was right in the middle of Hagia Nappa — which wants to be the Ibiza of the eastern Mediterranean when it grows up. The monastery was not in some remote and contemplative spot, but slap bang in the middle of as nasty a collection of bars and clubs and junk food outlets as you are likely to see. When we visited there was only us and some elderly Germans taking advantage of a cheap off-season deal. They looked as bemused as we felt by the sheer awfulness of it. But in the midst of it all both the parish church and the monastery chapel were open and people were praying and venerating the icons.

Jesus takes the inner group of his disciples up the mountain apart. There they see him transfigured, they see something of his heavenly glory, his divine being shining through his everyday humanity. They are astonished, overwhelmed. Peter says: ‘Lord, it is good for us to be here.’ He makes a practical suggestion — why don’t they build shelters for Jesus, Moses and Elijah. But there is no time for the suggestion to be acted on; it is simply overtaken by what happens next. A bright cloud, the Old Testament symbol of the mysterious presence of God, overshadows them. They hear a voice from heaven saying the same words as had been uttered at Jesus’ baptism in the Jordan: ‘This is my son, the Beloved; with him I am well pleased; listen to him.’ They are frightened out of their wits until Jesus comes and touches, saying ‘Get up and do not be afraid’. Then they follow him down the mountain. As the story continues, they return to the hurly burly of life with its pains and sorrows; they find the other disciples who have failed to heal a tormented boy.

We see in the business of going up and down the mountain, something vital to the life of the Church in its relationship with God and the world. Jesus leads us apart, perhaps not physically up a high mountain, but spiritually he has brought us to this place this morning and he brings us here or to some other church Sunday by Sunday. He brings us here to be in his presence, so that we can listen to him speaking to us in scripture and sermon of the things of God. He has brought us aside to share with us the reality and strength of that risen and glorified life glimpsed on the holy mountain and experienced in the breaking of the bread; the elements of bread and wine offered and taken, blessed and transformed, broken and shared, so that we might share that life.

Going up the mountain, being taken there by Jesus, is vital to our mission in the world, because it is only then that we can see the world in which it is all too easy to be absorbed and overwhelmed, in the light of God. It is only in worship and prayer and silence that we can really listen to Jesus speaking to us. That is why we need monasteries and parish churches like St Mary’s as our Mount Tabors. The disciples see Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah, great figures from Israel’s history, representatives of the nation’s relationship with God, the covenant. They represent the Law given to guide and shape the people for their calling and the Prophecy which recalled them to that relationship when they strayed from it. The gospel story shows all this reaching its fulfilment in Jesus.

That brings us to Sarah and Anne Crayle, mother and daughter; part of the history of this place, of Acton. Our society suffers from historical amnesia. We forget the past, our history, where we came from — unless it can be turned into a theme park for tourists. But that history is what makes us the people we are. We cannot go back to it, we cannot recreate the 18th century of Sarah and Anne, no one lives there, but if we forget it, if we fail to learn from it, we lose something of ourselves. We might think that Sarah and Anne must have been a dotty pair, leaving money for a sermon every year on their birthdays. What were their motives? Did they just want everybody to remember them and their piety and generosity? Or was there something more to it? Did they grasp that the community of God’s people needs to hear the word of God, and how shall they hear it without a preacher? ‘This is my Son, the Beloved… listen to him!’

Continued...