Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Mrs. Suzette Cayless
BCP - Lent 2 C - 04 March 2007
Genesis 15:1-12,17-18
Philippians 3:17-4:1
Luke 13:(22-30)31-35
“As the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram, and a deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him.” Genesis 15:12.
What was happening? Was Abram having a nightmare? That verse intrigues me with its vivid picture of the deep and terrifying darkness that descended on Abram. This experience comes just prior to God’s making of a covenant with Abram - a prelude to that if you like.
Abram had answered God’s call to leave his family’s home and go to a place that God would show him. He headed for the land of Canaan but wandered from place to place, including a stay in Egypt during a period of famine. God several times promised Abram that his descendants would be given the land of Canaan but Abram and Sarai remained childless.
Now comes further reassurance that he will have offspring and as part of Abram’s conversation with God he enters this deep sleep and the deep and terrifying darkness comes upon him. Is this God’s way of letting Abram know the cost of what God is promising? The covenant with Abram will begin salvation history as we understand it.
This is going to be costly, difficult, and not to be lightly accepted by Abram. The deep and terrifying darkness is a way of warning Abram that he is called to be involved in a major activity in God’s scheme of things - a foretaste even of the darkness enfolding Christ’s redeeming activity on the Cross. The cost of salvation is great. We are meant to be aware of this. Like Abram, we have a choice as to whether we respond or not.
Now, while none of us likes enduring the times of darkness that inevitably occur in every human life we hesitate to enter into life with Christ, into the Light of salvation won on the Cross; we prefer a more shadowy existence. There is a wonderful passage at the beginning of Charles Dickens’ novel “The Old Curiosity Shop” and I want to read an extract from it. A gentleman, walking in the late evening, has been stopped by a young child asking for help in finding her way home. He takes her hand and leads her to the street she needs and goes with her to the place where she lives - it proves to be an old shop - what we might call a “junk shop.” He stands with the child, waiting for someone to answer the door:
“A part of this door was of glass unprotected by any shutter, which I did not observe at first, for all was very dark and silent within, and I was anxious (as indeed the child was also) for an answer to our summons. When she had knocked twice or thrice there was a noise as if some person were moving inside, and at length a faint light appeared through the glass which, as it approached very slowly, the bearer having to make his way through a great many scattered articles, enabled me to see both what kind of person it was who advanced and what kind of place it was through which he came.
It was an old man with long grey hair, whose face and figure as he held the light above his head and looked before him as he approached, I could plainly see. ... The place through which he made his way at leisure was one of those receptacles for old and curious things which seem to crouch in odd corners of this town and to hide their musty treasures from the public eye in jealousy and distrust. There were suits of mail standing like ghosts in armour here and there, fantastic carvings brought from monkish cloisters, rusty weapons of various kinds, distorted figures in china and wood and iron and ivory: tapestry and strange furniture that might have been designed in dreams. The haggard aspect of the little old man was wonderfully suited to the place; he might have groped among old churches and tombs and deserted houses and gathered all the spoils with his own hands. There was nothing in the whole collection but was in keeping with himself nothing that looked older or more worn than he.”
The Old Curiosity Shop - a repository for many, many things! Notice some of the phrases in the story: part of the door was “of glass unprotected by any shutter.” We like to close our doors, the doors to our innermost selves - but to God, there are ways in - like that unshuttered door made of glass. God looks in; He knows us. Then notice: “at length a faint light appeared through the glass which, as it approached very slowly, the bearer having to make his way through a great many scattered articles, enabled me to see both what kind of person it was who advanced and what kind of place it was through which he came.” A shadowy figure, picking his way amongst the collected items. God seeks us, calling to us, amidst all the clutter of our lives. Like that figure, we live in the shadows we have created - but God waits until we are ready to receive Him. The old shop was “a receptacle for old and curious things.” Many of us like to collect “stuff” - clothes, books, DVD’s - boxes in spare rooms, attics, basements - with unknown quantities of stuff. It’s not only our homes that become cluttered - it’s our lives. There is so much to do; so many places to go; people to see - and the habits that consume us, control how we act and react. We end up in a spin and do not know how to get ourselves out of it. So often, what we collect, the clutter in our lives, results in shutting out God - no time, no space, sorry God - later when I’ve tidied up I’ll try to make space.
We like to be in control - to organize when we will receive God! We want him on our terms. “The haggard aspect of the little old man was wonderfully suited to the place.” We shrink into the inner chaos and lose any sense of joy; we are fearful#; we struggle to maintain our position - all the time keeping God out and rejecting the grace that would effect transformation. We remain in a shadowy existence instead of venturing into the Light of Christ. Abram was challenged by the deep and terrifying darkness but accepted God’s invitation to obedience within a covenant with God.
I recall a journey in a canal boat - some 45 years ago - on a waterway running from Stoke Bruerne to Blisworth in England. At one point the boat passed through the Blisworth Tunnel - almost two miles long. It was totally dark in there. The boat kept moving ahead in this darkness until finally a pin-point of light could be seen. As we edged slowly forward that pin-point became larger, and larger. Suddenly we were out into daylight and could see clearly. Many of us do not enjoy too much light in our daily lives. It is as if we stopped our boat well inside that tunnel - in the half-light - where we can see enough, but not have to cope with the brightness that shows up everything. We want some truth - but not all. We want the comfort of God - but not the Love to which we are invited because the cost is great. Accepting God’s gracious invitation into the Light of Christ’s Love costs everything - all the stuff, the clutter, the hiding in the shadows. As T.S. Eliot said, we are called to a simplicity, a transparency of life, “costing not less than everything.” Abram experienced deep and terrifying darkness but he had the courage to trust God and enter into the covenant relationship that began salvation history. Do we have the courage to enter into the Light of God’s grace in Jesus Christ - and see?
Let us pray. Let us recall that as we come to Communion today, God is saying to each of us:
Drink freely
and deeply
of the cup of salvation:
Without hesitation
trusting in the reality
of God’s Love.
Let the stumbling blocks
of fear,
doubt, anger,
pride,
fall away.
Be open to the
gentle power of grace.
Receive new vision
as the
Light of Christ
dawns within.
Go forth refreshed,
enriched,
delighting in Love,
to walk with God.
*****
(c) 2007 - Suzette Cayless
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