Sermon-Blind Faith

‘Christ Healing the blind" (2010) by Thobias Minzi, Tanzania

A sermon given during Holy Communion (BCP) at St Giles-in-the-Fields on Sunday 2nd March 2025 (Quinquagesima or the Last Sunday before Lent) based on the text of 1 Corinthians 13, Luke 18.31-43 and inspired by the pop history of nearby Denmark Street, as explored in Peter Watts excellent book.

Who could believe that I could be happy and contented,
I used to think that happiness hadn't been invented,
But that was in the bad old days before I met you,
When I let you walk into my heart.

Congratulations and celebrations,
When I tell everyone that you're in love with me.
Congratulations and jubilations,
I want the world to know I'm happy as can be.

Lyrics from the chart-topping Eurovision entry ‘Congratulations’ by a frilly-cuffed Cliff Richard - a song which started life as a demo recorded at Regent Sounds, just down the road on Denmark Street. 

Like so many pieces of music which were written, recorded or demoed on this street - many of them rehearsed here in our very own churchyard - it’s a song about the power of love. 

A particular kind of love, of course. But there can be no denying that those whose lives have been transformed by embracing the love of God in their hearts show similar signs of elation! We just sing our songs of praise in a slightly different way. In this church, at least.

We believe that love is a gift. A gift of God himself; because God is love - a power made visible on earth in the person of his Son, Jesus Christ and which remains with us now as the Holy Spirit.

Once that spirit is burning inside us, true love - what our translation of the bible calls charity - is like no other power we know. It endures. A gift that is perpetually given and received. One which never fades away. A truth which gave the Rolling Stones their first hit track, cut next door:

“I'm gonna tell you how it's gonna be
You're gonna give your love to me.
I'm gonna love you night and day…
Love, love is love and not fade away".

After the Stones, dozens of wannabe stars flocked to the parish, leaving behind a musical trail of the tale of true love - in both its major and minor keys. One recent study claims nearly seventy percent of all lyrics since have been songs about love.

These lyrics, from the first album by Genesis, laid down on Demark Street by Phil Collins and his Charterhouse schoolmates during the holidays, capture the moment when we first become aware of the flame of love beginning to kindle inside us:

Don't get me wrong
I think I'm in love
But the feeling in the word is more
Than your crystal eyes will ever see in me…..
One day I'll capture you, and call you to my side
One day I'll take you from the boredom of our lives
One day we'll fly away to the kingdom of my dreams
One day I'll find myself, and wrap it in my love for you."

Here, understandably perhaps, the angst and uncertainty of early adulthood is laid bare. And, although this is about a different kind of love, the lyrics hint, I think, at the genesis – the awakening of our love for God – or perhaps more accurately – our awareness of his love for us. The feeling of unworthiness, of undeservedness of God’s love; the struggle to accept and fully understand it in the present but an inkling that the truth of who we are is wrapped somewhere in that mystery.

Academics who study faith development – the intersection of psychology and spirituality - conclude that most of us in Britain remain in the equivalent of this young adult state for much of our lives. St Paul describes it as 'understanding like a child'. With an awareness and ability to critically analyse our personal faith and belief but difficulty accepting the mystery and paradox of it.

A mystery that in their naivety Collins and his chums thought they could, one day, master and control. We must turn to a slightly older, hip-gyrating heart-throb and another track demoed on Denmark Street, for a more mature assessment on that score;

“It's not unusual, it happens everyday
No matter what you say
You'll find it happens all the time
Love will never do what you want it to.”

When it comes to God, our task seems to be to sing 'Tiger' Tom's lyrics in reverse. For us to learn to always do what love wants and to live that life all the time, every day, until it becomes not unusual.

That’s the lesson at the heart of the passage we heard from St Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians. A smash hit of its kind. Described as a poetic masterpiece. The inspiration for countless pieces of music, including the beautiful anthem by Edward Bairstow which our choir will sing later in this service. The letter was written to guide the fledgling church away from disputes and disagreements in doctrine and practice - to encourage its members to unite their actions with their beliefs. To grow – to mature – as Christians. 

A church that preaches and prays and prophesises about faith and charity but does not act in love - Paul says - is nothing. Its work means nothing. Love is the foundation of every Christian community because God is love and he loves us - and the actions of the church and its members must reflect the reality of that belief. 

It’s a stark wake up call to us all. 

Unless we act in love - with patience, kindness, humility, without irritation or jealousy or resentment, our lives - all of this - counts for nothing.

To have any meaning at all, we must learn not only to accept what true love looks like, but to do what true love – what God - desires.

Our gospel reading begins with Jesus taking the disciples to one side and, for the third and final time, he foretells his death on the cross and his resurrection.

The disciples don’t understand.

Or, more precisely, as the gospel puts it, the things Jesus said were hidden from them. They couldn’t see the point of what he was saying, they couldn’t accept the paradox, the mystery of this supreme act of sacrificial love.

How often do we do the same? Even though (if we choose to do so) we can surround ourselves by visual and literal and musical and sacramental reminders of it! That God took on human flesh in the person of Christ, who died and rose again for our salvation.

Without all these cues, a blind beggar sitting by the road to Jericho did see the point.

Hearing from the crowd of people gathering all around that Jesus was approaching, he cries out in words that survive as one of our most ancient prayers “Lord have mercy on me” – and he doesn’t stop until Jesus asks for him to be brought near.

“What do you want me to do for you?” Jesus asks.

To receive my sight, the man replies.

Jesus responds accordingly and the man’s life is transformed.

Not only because of the sight in his eyes – arguably, he could already see better than the disciples; he saw the love of Jesus and had embraced it in his heart.

But because he did what St Paul implored the Corinthian church to do. He acted on it. Responded to it. He did what true love desired. He took a leap of faith. He left behind his childlike reasoning and understanding. He embraced the mystery, the paradox of divine love. For the blind man, this meant immediately leaving behind the life he knew and giving up everything to follow Jesus.

In doing so, he found the meaning, the purpose of which St Paul writes. The crowd saw it too. When they realised the transformation in the life of the blind man, they all gave praise to God. Maybe even bursting into song?

If song lyrics are anything to go by, our greatest desire is love. Perhaps for most people then, that’s their answer to Jesus’ question – what do you want me to do for you?

On this last Sunday before Lent, the scriptures suggest one way we might spend the weeks that lie ahead. To seek, intentionally, to grow in faith. By acknowledging our need - our desire - for God’s love. By learning to see the point of it, striving to accept it and finding the courage to unite our actions with our belief. To step into the next stage of the journey of our lives as followers of Christ. To mature - to take that leap into the mystery, the paradox of divine love. So that we may find ourselves - by discovering the meaning and purpose which God has ordained for each of us. 

Perhaps then, we might sing:

Congratulations and celebrations,
When I tell everyone that you're in love with me.
Congratulations and jubilations,
I want the world to know I'm happy as can be.

“My faith has saved me”.

Image: ‘Christ Healing the blind" (2010) by Thobias Minzi, Tanzania