Sermon - Holy, Holey, Wholly

The Vision of Isaiah, Marc Chagall, 1968

A sermon preached at St Giles-in-the-Fields on Sunday 2nd July 2023 (The Fourth Sunday after Trinity) based on readings from Isaiah 6.1-7 and Acts 6.1-8. The first sermon I preached as Curate of the church.

Holy Holy Holy is the Lord of hosts. So holy they named him thrice!

 

Holy is translated from a Hebrew word which means ‘set apart’ or sacred. 

 

The threefold refrain of the seraphim in Isaiah’s vision describes a God who is set apart from the chaos and disorder we have created on earth. Set apart from the violence, the suffering, the injustice, the poverty the hatred. 

 

God is greater than all those things. 

 

Isaiah’s awesome vision revealed the Lord high upon a throne - the train of his robe – the hem of his garment - filled the temple. The posts of the door shaking at the cries of the mysterious seraphim. 

 

Isaiah’s response in the face of this vision? He felt unworthy. A man of unclean lips, living amongst a people of unclean lips. He wasn’t holy enough for this. 

 

For a long time I felt the same. 

 

People ask when I first realised that I had a calling to Holy orders. It must have been something I considered at a young age because I remember thinking then that I was not holy enough to give it further thought. Which is strange now I know the meaning of holy, as I was very good at setting myself apart in other ways. Slightly bookish and geeky. Not fitting in with the sporty types. I spent part of my teenage years having difficulty walking and used a wheelchair - so was physically set apart - at a different height to those around me. 

 

The priests I knew didn’t go to the same schools as me, didn’t come from the same family background as me.

 

No, I definitely wasn’t Holy enough. 

 

Would that I had a copy Edward Gray’s history of this Parish to hand, which contains this glorious anecdote about a new curate from Henry Richards who was Rector here from 1892 - about the time my great great grandparents lived down the road in Neal Street:

 

“A few days ago I engaged a curate from a man I thought I could trust, but… [there’s always a but isn’t there!]…..unfortunately the new-comer was so drunk at the evening service last night, when he attempted to read the prayers, he had to be taken out of the church. The grotesque part was that at the time I, the rector, was supporting the Bishop at a Temperance Meeting at the Mission Hall close by.”

 

Well! I certainly feel a few steps further up the stairway to heaven than that bloke! 

 

But perhaps it’s just as well I followed Rita from the choir’s advice – to stick to tea and cake earlier and nothing stronger! 

 

 

Eight years ago I had an experience in church - not a vision like Isaiah, but a sensation - that knocked me for six. 

 

I felt as though I had stepped beneath a waterfall of emotion. Surrounded by an overwhelming sense of belonging, of acceptance, joy, satisfaction and contentment and all at the same time.

 

This was my wake up and smell the coffee moment. I realised that while I have said and acted in ways that are far from Christ-like - I am not unworthy of God’s love. 

 

In the midst of his great vision of God, Isaiah felt small - but he was not insignificant. God despatched a seraph to touch Isaiah’s lips - to take away his iniquity - his guilt, his sin. It was only when Isaiah had been set apart from his worry, his doubt, by God’s mercy and grace, that he heard the Lord calling. 

 

God may be holy - set apart - but he is not distant. God is here. He has called us - a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation - and is calling each of us now. Calling us to set aside our doubts and worries – our feelings of unworthiness. Calling us to holiness. 

 

Holy Holy Holy.

 

 

Our reading from the Acts of the Apostles describes ‘the call of the seven’ to a ministry we now call that of Deacon. The order of the priesthood to which I was ordained all of twenty six hours ago!

 

Deacon is not a title (as far as we know) given to Stephen, Philip or the others. It’s a name we have coined to describe what they were called to do. Deacon comes from a Greek word which means service or to serve. 

 

It’s a role that came about as a result of what in the business world might be called gap analysis. Identifying a hole that needs to be filled. 

 

In this case a practical need. The first followers of Christ agreed to live in common - pooling their assets, including money and food, sharing it amongst themselves and with others in great need. One section of this growing community felt they were being overlooked in the distribution of resources. Perhaps there were simply too many people for the Apostles to attend to?

 

So they called the whole group together to ask them identify seven people best placed to help fill the gap in personnel. 

 

We don’t know much about Stephen or Philip or the other five who were called. Stephen is described as “a man full of faith and of the Holy Ghost”. 

 

Perhaps so full of faith and the Holy Ghost that he wasn’t full of himself. Maybe Stephen felt as unworthy as Isaiah in response to being called? 

 

We don’t know what he thought. But we do know that others in the community saw something in him, in Philip and the others. They saw something in them that would help to fulfil a need in the community. 

 

They chose well. The number of disciples in Jerusalem multiplied greatly; and a great company of the priests were obedient to the faith.

 

 

So much of the goodness in my life has come about as the result of other people seeing something in me. Giving me a chance. I joined a firm of architects and at a very young age was invited to become a Director. After a lot of hard work we eventually won design competitions - selected even though we had no track record of designing similar buildings. But someone saw something in us - gave us a chance to fulfil our vocation. 

 

I loved my job - most of the time. But I came to realise I had another calling. 

 

The next chapter of which starts today thanks to something Bishop Sarah and Tom our Rector saw in me. I’ve been given a wonderful opportunity over the next three years to learn from them and from Chris - from Wil, Edward, Jonathan, Lesley, Oliver and Cat - from each of you as you explore your calling.

 

Because there’s a gap - a hole - somewhere in the world that is shaped like each of us and is crying out to be filled. And, like Stephen, Philip and the first deacons,

 

Holey, Holey, Holey. 

 

 

is the Lord of hosts: the whole earth is full of his glory.

 

 

Irenaeus of Lyon said; 

 

“the glory of God is man fully alive.” 

 

Scripture and tradition teaches us that until we are united with God our lives are not full but incomplete. We are unformed substances, in the words of the psalmist. 

 

There is no single model - no one size fits all template for discerning our calling - our vocation - on earth (whether we have one or many). But most Christian writers agree that it is when our deepest desires - that which makes us who we truly are - meets the gap - the hole - the need - in the world that is us-shaped, that we come as close as we can in this life to being fully - wholly - alive. 

 

 

The idea that God is calling us to holiness - that the spirit is leading us to our true calling - that “us-shaped” hole - flies in the face of modern conceptions of individual freedom. 

 

The Prayer Book sets us right. In the Collect - the prayer - for peace in the office of Morning Prayer, we read that the service God “is perfect freedom.”

 

The freedom to be who we were truly called to be and to make the world whole. Perfect.

 

God is Holy. Set apart but not distant. Calling us right now to set us apart from our doubts and fears that we are unworthy of his love. Calling us holiness. If we listen. 

 

His Spirit is guiding each of us us towards that us-shaped hole - that need - that moment - that only we can satisfy. 

 

So that our lives - and that of the whole world - might glorify God. 

 

Holy, Holey, Wholly.