Sermon November 11th 2011
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Cathy Hird
When people quote the medieval saint Julian of Norwich, they usually quote a saying that feels to me a lot like Paul’s letter to the church in Thessalonica. She is quoted as saying: “All will be well, and all will be well, and all will be well.” Those words have felt naïve, almost trite, the blissful statement of a person, untouched by grief, that things are fine. It’s the triple repetition that feels like gentle waves of reassurance that tell the person who feels like the world is coming apart that, “It will be fine, dear. Everything will work out.” Hollow reassurance can make us feel even more angry
Eventually, I came to understand that, for Julian, the repetition is emphatic. She believes things will be well, but also knows how hard it is to believe that things will work out when real life is getting harder and harder. And I found we misquote her; she does not just repeat herself but expands the statement to make sure her reader hears that all kinds of things, large and small, transient and enduring, will be made well. She wants to make sure we understand that she really means it when she says “all will be well.” Julian goes on to tell us why she believes this. She says, God will make all things well, and God can make all things well and God shall make all things well and God will make all things well. All will be well because God is at work to make the world anew.
This is the message we heard from Isaiah. The people will rejoice because God is at work to help the suffering, to bind up the afflicted, to set free the captives, to comfort those who mourn, to break down the prison walls, to proclaim the year that the world starts over right. The prophet does not say, “Smile, it will work out.” Isaiah says, “You will see with your own eyes that things are working out, and then you will smile, rejoice, sing. All that is wrong in your life will be fixed.”
Isaiah is not making a vague statement about the end of the world here. He is speaking to the exiles in Babylon just before they return home to Jerusalem. In this 3rd part of the book of Isaiah, Persia has already conquered Babylon, and it is already clear that the king of Persia will allow the exiles to go back to their homeland. They already know that they will leave the foreign city to return to Jerusalem. They are waiting for a moment, just around the corner, when they will leave servitude to go back to plough their farms, to rebuild their businesses, to put their lives and their country back together. They are about to live the hope they are promised.
It is the same when Jesus reads this part of Isaiah: the eyes of the blind are about to be opened; people bound by illness are about to be freed; the grieving, suffering people will be comforted right then and there. The people are about to see the power of God at work in their own lives. They can give thanks, be joyful, for what is right in front of their eyes.
It is harder for us. Jesus did his healing 2000 years ago. But, when Paul was speaking to Thessalonica, he acknowledged the persecution they lived every day, and still called on them to rejoice. Even Isaiah and Jesus did not ignore the sorrow their people had lived; they claimed that God was at work to heal the sorrow and set the people free. The people could rejoice because God was at work drawing the world closer to what God intended in the beginning, in every moment of time, in the midst of the suffering.
With all due respect to Julian of Norwich, I still find her “all will be well” irritates me.
I am trying to live in the present, not wait for a future moment when things will be fine.
I have started to say, “This is okay.” This moment is fine. This place is well because God is at work in this moment of time. Right now, God is moving me and the world. God is drawing us closer to the vision of love and peace God intends for all. Because God is at work, here, this time and place are good.
The sorrow is real, but God is holding the grief in love. The loss is painful, but God is drawing what is lost into God’s vision. For me, that is grounding for joy, the impetus for song. God is here, with power and vision. That is why we can read the psalm we did and say, “The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad. Those who go forth weeping… shall come home with shouts of joy.”
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Cathy Hird
When people quote the medieval saint Julian of Norwich, they usually quote a saying that feels to me a lot like Paul’s letter to the church in Thessalonica. She is quoted as saying: “All will be well, and all will be well, and all will be well.” Those words have felt naïve, almost trite, the blissful statement of a person, untouched by grief, that things are fine. It’s the triple repetition that feels like gentle waves of reassurance that tell the person who feels like the world is coming apart that, “It will be fine, dear. Everything will work out.” Hollow reassurance can make us feel even more angry
Eventually, I came to understand that, for Julian, the repetition is emphatic. She believes things will be well, but also knows how hard it is to believe that things will work out when real life is getting harder and harder. And I found we misquote her; she does not just repeat herself but expands the statement to make sure her reader hears that all kinds of things, large and small, transient and enduring, will be made well. She wants to make sure we understand that she really means it when she says “all will be well.” Julian goes on to tell us why she believes this. She says, God will make all things well, and God can make all things well and God shall make all things well and God will make all things well. All will be well because God is at work to make the world anew.
This is the message we heard from Isaiah. The people will rejoice because God is at work to help the suffering, to bind up the afflicted, to set free the captives, to comfort those who mourn, to break down the prison walls, to proclaim the year that the world starts over right. The prophet does not say, “Smile, it will work out.” Isaiah says, “You will see with your own eyes that things are working out, and then you will smile, rejoice, sing. All that is wrong in your life will be fixed.”
Isaiah is not making a vague statement about the end of the world here. He is speaking to the exiles in Babylon just before they return home to Jerusalem. In this 3rd part of the book of Isaiah, Persia has already conquered Babylon, and it is already clear that the king of Persia will allow the exiles to go back to their homeland. They already know that they will leave the foreign city to return to Jerusalem. They are waiting for a moment, just around the corner, when they will leave servitude to go back to plough their farms, to rebuild their businesses, to put their lives and their country back together. They are about to live the hope they are promised.
It is the same when Jesus reads this part of Isaiah: the eyes of the blind are about to be opened; people bound by illness are about to be freed; the grieving, suffering people will be comforted right then and there. The people are about to see the power of God at work in their own lives. They can give thanks, be joyful, for what is right in front of their eyes.
It is harder for us. Jesus did his healing 2000 years ago. But, when Paul was speaking to Thessalonica, he acknowledged the persecution they lived every day, and still called on them to rejoice. Even Isaiah and Jesus did not ignore the sorrow their people had lived; they claimed that God was at work to heal the sorrow and set the people free. The people could rejoice because God was at work drawing the world closer to what God intended in the beginning, in every moment of time, in the midst of the suffering.
With all due respect to Julian of Norwich, I still find her “all will be well” irritates me.
I am trying to live in the present, not wait for a future moment when things will be fine.
I have started to say, “This is okay.” This moment is fine. This place is well because God is at work in this moment of time. Right now, God is moving me and the world. God is drawing us closer to the vision of love and peace God intends for all. Because God is at work, here, this time and place are good.
The sorrow is real, but God is holding the grief in love. The loss is painful, but God is drawing what is lost into God’s vision. For me, that is grounding for joy, the impetus for song. God is here, with power and vision. That is why we can read the psalm we did and say, “The Lord has done great things for us; we are glad. Those who go forth weeping… shall come home with shouts of joy.”