A sermon preached on the Second Sunday in Lent which was also our Beethoven Weekend. The texts were: Genesis 12:1-4a, Romans 4: 1-5, 13-17, John 3:1-17 and quotations from Beethoven were found here.
“No friend have I. I must live by myself alone; but I know well that God is nearer to me than others in my art, so I will walk fearlessly with Him.”
Words written by Beethoven, whose life and work we celebrate this weekend. He wrote these words having dedicated the Moonlight Sonata to a woman he loved; he wrote them knowing that class and status meant their love was prohibited.
Yesterday, we were drawn into Beethoven’s legacy in an embodied way. We heard some young musicians talk about why they’d chosen particular pieces to perform; and how they engaged with the emotional energy of his work.
We were drawn into Beethoven’s story in an embodied way in a dramatic performance accompanied by the music which flowed from his pen. We heard of his loves and his loneliness; his creative impulse and his despair. At the end, we were gifted a glimpse of hope.
Some have written that Beethoven had a curious faith. A faith which was deeply personal, reaching towards God; and finding expression beyond the assertion of creeds and dogmas. Whilst he might have had an aversion to sitting in the pews; his fascination with the texts of the Mass and the rhythmic patters of psalms.
He sought to integrate his own personal styles and interpretations of the texts; driven by his years of research and his emotional involvement. We are drawn into something that is both personal and universal; drawing us on person to person, as we reach towards God.
In the setting we will hear this evening, the Mass in C, we are invited into a work of reassurance and hope. He is reported to have said: “My chief aim was to awaken and permanently instill religious feelings not only into the singers but also into the listeners.”
The themes of awakening and fearlessness; of human creativity and life alone are recognisable to us; but also to the biblical narrative we are drawn into. There too do we find expression of a faith which are curious and trusting. In the lives of Abraham, Nicodemus and Paul we find glimpses echos of nearness of God of which Beethoven wrote, echos which resound within the human experience from heartache to reassurance.
Abram is invited to lear all that he knows: home and land, livelihood and kin. He begins a journey of trust; setting out into the unknown. He places his faith in a promise; he responds to a call which tugs at our deepest longings.
In older age, he goes: he embraces a way of life which is visibly different to all that has been. He does not, indeed cannot rely on his own goodness or power, knowledge or influence. Instead he responds to the promise of blessing; a blessing not just to one family or nation, but for the whole earth.
Perhaps we can imagine Abram saying: No friend have I. No children; no future. I must live by myself alone; in the few kin I have. But I know well that God is nearer to me than others in my art, on this journey into the unknown. So I will walk fearlessly with Him. In hope. In a promise.
Abraham was renamed in hope by a faithful God; and to him Paul turns in thinking about the nature of trust in God. This is not a matter of knowing in the sense of looking upon an object and knowing its weight and form.
This kind of knowledge is rooted in love and hope: it challenges us to think about where we place our trust, and how such commitments shape our lives. The faith of which Paul writes is a radical openness to love. A love that brings life; a love that calls us into being; a love that defeats death; a love that exceeds all human imagination in its creativity.
It is a love that calls. A love that displaces all other idols of status and human regard; of achievement and power. It is a love which displaces wealth itself.
It is a love that reshapes our worldly commitments; and calls us to be a blessing to others, in order that they too may bless.
Like Beethoven and Abraham, Paul and Nicodemus, it might not always be clear what lies ahead. Sometimes we will find human longings unmet; or our lives constrained by the wills of others. And yet, we are invited to walk fearlessly with God; the God who kindles, instills and awakens the flame of love in our hearts.
This promise rests on grace not our effort. It rests on a promise fulfilled; and a new future unfolding.
For Nicodemus this journey is played out over the course of John’s Gospel. He begins by trusting in facts, in noticing what he sees. He is drawn to trust in a person. He continues in curiosity; he is unashamed in his questions.
He is invited to trust God’s love. A love revealed in the one who will be lifted up on a cross; a love which is at work in the world through the movement of the Spirit. Through this love, his curiosity becomes a deepening commitment.
It is Nicodemus who stands alongside the beloved disciple and Jesus’ mother at the end; taking a crucified body to be laid in a tomb. It is he who, with the women, brings spices to anoint a body which has born the cost of loving to the end. In the face of the isolation of death and grief, he and they, wait and walk in fearless love.
For Beethoven, music was the means by which he could express the desolations of isolation and frailty; the wondrous power of nature and the human heart; and within that stir curiosity and joy, solidarity and conviction and the movement of the love, human and divine.
Our lives and bodies are also marked with our convictions: our convictions are revealed in how we spend time and money; our habits and actions reveal the priorities in our hearts. In the midst the storms of this world, dare we live with an intensity and focus, a lightness and commitment that strengthens bonds of community and awakens in others a glimpse of hope in which they can place their trust.
Our lives and bodies are are marked with the sign of the cross; marked by the love of one who was lifted up in order that we might be reconciled with God and each other.
The evangelist John reveals to us that God so loved the world that he gave us his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him, trusts in him, may not perish but may have eternal life.
God reveals the depth of love for us in becoming one of us in Jesus Christ. As we enter into relationship with Jesus and follow him we receive the life that is in him; that life flows from his relationship to the Father.
This life enables us to see see others as Jesus sees them; to love them as he does; to see and love ourselves and Jesus sees and loves us.
This life and love is a dwelling in God: it transforms how we act and speak; it enables us to be compassionate, creative and courageous.
God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world may be saved through him.
To save means to heal, to liberate to make whole: Jesus came to save us from fears and welcome us into new life.
Jesus comes to give us to the very life of God, so that life flows through us. Jesus was lifted up on the cross and in his resurrection; so our humanity too is lifted up with God, abiding in love that continually reshapes us.
May we be alert to where the Spirit is moving in our lives and in our community; may we notice where there is pain and isolation and be with others; may we notice where there is joy and love, and draw near to bless; may we notice where there is fear and speak words of consolation.
May we hear the promise of life and love awakened in us; when the way ahead is unclear or painful, may we walk fearlessly; in delight and confusion, in companionship and when we are alone, may we know that love is with us, lifting us up.
© Julie Gittoes 2020
