Living Stones and High Crosses

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Burlington, Vermont

The Rev. Nancy E. Gossling

Theologian in Residence

November 18, 2018

Psalm 16
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

Let us pray:

           Be our light in the darkness, O Lord, and the leaven in our spirits.

Paul and I have a family home on Cape Cod. Looking for something to do one summer, I decided to make a small pathway with stones from the beach. Every day, I would walk down to the beach with cloth bags, pick up heavy stones, and carry them back to the house. Like my thoughts and prayers, I would pick them up and put them down. I walked slowly, methodically, and patiently. Except one time, when a snake slithered right in front of me, and my pace improved. Fear of another such encounter slowed my building program for a few days.

During this same time in my life, I served at Christ Church Cathedral in Dublin, Ireland. It is a large stone Cathedral built on a small hill in the city, where they welcome visitors and tourists from all around the world. They have a faithful community that worships every Sunday morning; and at noon during the weekdays, they pray for peace. There, in Ireland, I found the Celtic Way of spirituality to be alive and well, in the people, in the churches, and in their land.

Margaret Silf wrote a book called Sacred Spaces. In one chapter devoted to touchstones and high crosses, she wrote, “in Celtic times the standing stones and high crosses were the village’s library, its pulpit and its art gallery, watching over the community, focusing the people’s gaze always to something beyond themselves.” I think that this Cathedral here in Burlington is like that. You have a high cross standing on these stones of concrete on a small hill in Burlington. You are a living library, a moving art gallery, and a community that watches with love.

Perhaps you know the story of The Stone Soup. In it, a traveler passes through a village with no food or shelter. When she asks villagers for something to eat, they decline for various reasons. And so, the traveler goes to a river, takes a large stone, and begins to cook it in a pot. When villagers pass by and ask her what she is doing, she tells them that she is making stone soup, and how much better it would taste if it had a potato, or some meat, or a vegetable. Soon enough, villagers were bringing one thing or another, and then together they enjoyed a very different kind of stone soup.

In Sacred Spaces, Margaret Silf, describes human beings as islands of disconnection; and yet, underneath all of our individual islands there is a bedrock that connects us all. This bedrock is where creation is held in unity, and reminds us that there is something and Someone far greater than all of us combined. In these times of turmoil and unrest throughout our world, when it seems as if nations are rising against nations, when earthquakes, famines, and fires are as frequent and as devastating as mass shootings and gun violence, it is comforting to hear Jesus say, “Do not be alarmed” even as he issues his own prophetic warnings.

Easy for Jesus to say, I thought to myself. “Little old me” who has a fear of snakes, setting off alarm systems, bursting pipes, and dark nights of the soul. Little old me that is reminded in daily news about climate change and nuclear powers, viruses at Wake Robin, shameful ownership practices at Pillsbury Manors, and tent cities in California. We live in fearful and anxious times; and fear and anxiety are contagious. We are constantly being told to “beware” of this or that, of being led astray by false prophets or fake news. Apocalyptic visions and warnings generate fear; so too does the reality of our lives.

 Stephen Fowl wrote about a time when his priest asked a question from the pulpit, ‘Do you know what the antidote for fear is?’ The answer jumped into my head immediately, wrote Stephen. “Perfect love casts out fear” (1 John 4:17, NASB). But then (he added) since it’s generally frowned upon for a member of the choir in an Episcopal cathedral to shout out answers to rhetorical questions, I kept quiet.”
            “By the time you read this, Stephen continued (which was in November of 2012) “the presidential election will be over. No matter what the result, no matter which candidate we elect, many people will be angry, anxious and fearful. Although I am neither a prophet nor a prophet’s son, (he said) I predict that the traditional media outlets will be full of apocalyptic visions that will stoke those anxieties and fears. Without love, fear can truncate and focus our vision so narrowly that it renders us almost blind.”

Jesus was a prophet who challenged the political and religious leaders of his time. This chapter in Mark’s gospel is known as a mini apocalyptic vision.  As Jesus foretold the destruction of the temple, and warned his disciples about wars and rumors of wars, he also comforted them. The end will come, he said; but this is only the beginning of the birth pangs. He is using the imagery of birth not death. The antidote to our fear is Jesus, whose birth we’ll celebrate very soon.

Like the disciples, we too may wonder when the end will come, and how it will happen, whether it’s our own personal end of life or something more universal. Stephen Fowl claims that, “Fear is the enemy of faithful living in apocalyptic times. Fear narrows our vision so that we fail to see the good in those who disagree with us. Fear-induced blindness causes us to fail to see the great host of witnesses that surround, support and sustain us.The onset of apocalyptic times calls not for split-second judgments but for clear vision, faithful insight and patience.” I think this Cathedral community has those gifts.
            There is a bike trail on Cape Cod that I often use for prayer and exercise, when I’m not picking up stones off the beach. At one stopping point along the trail, I found a box with stones in it, each painted with a word or a phrase, and a sign inviting us to pick one up or drop one off. I took one that said, “Pray for Peace.”  In a town in Kansas, I learned that “little painted river rocks had started turning up, among tree roots and under park benches, with messages like “You’re beautiful. “ Have a nice day!” and one that said, “Survive.” (Christian Century, October 9, 2018)

Author Brad Roth claims that sometimes we need that kind of ‘grit your teeth’ encouragement in the face of worrisome events. He also argues that we “want more than survival. We long for meaning, purpose, and a sense that our lives contribute to a good greater than ourselves.” (Christian Century, October 24, 2018) Succinctly put, we want to thrive, not just survive. We need places like this Cathedral Church that point to a higher power and a greater purpose. A place that makes meaning out of the meaningless, that makes sense out of the senseless, that builds community, and helps us to focus our gaze on Someone and something beyond ourselves.

On the side of the road to the beach, there is a long mound of stones, and at the head of these stones is a wooden cross and the words: Here lies Chester. Our burial sites, often marked by stones, are sacred spaces that point to Life and Love beyond this world. Our churches today are built upon the foundation of apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone, and the bedrock of our faith. This brutal stone Church stands on a little hill in Burlington, watching over this community, acting as a library, a pulpit, and a center for the arts, and as a witness to people from our past, present, and future.

As I listened to violin and piano music on Tuesday afternoon, I looked at the altar behind me. The letter to the Hebrews reminds us that Jesus is our great high priest, who sits at the right hand of God, and who has made a footstool of all his enemies. Unlike the priests of the Temple in Jerusalem, Jesus offered himself once for the sins of the whole world. As disciples of Christ, we are living stones who are following his pathway to heaven. Do not be alarmed, Jesus said; for perfect love casts out fear.

Cathedral Church of St. Paul, hold fast to your confessions of hope without wavering. Provoke and encourage one another to deeds of love.  Pray for peace and bless those who curse you. Be a high cross on this little hill in Burlington and be a touchstone of Eternity for all to come.