Does God still walk through the garden in the cool of the day;
the scent of honeysuckle thick in places;
the memory of the origins of everything woven in the grass,
murmured about by the bees, snickered about
by the horses, and hissed about by lisping snakes
and lizards, preoccupied with their own bad reputations?
Is God at all concerned with the data that shows
his own repute in bad decline outside
the garden walls? Could it matter to him?
Does God not see how prone to failure so much of
his work tends to be? Does God recall
that his own received him not? What kind of operation
is he running? And who is even signing
up for the newsletter anymore?
Is there a paradise somewhere still,
where the knowledge of good and evil is safely left
un-picked on the tree? Where the creatures live in perfect
balance with each other and all the rest;
without the need to mine or plunder earth;
or maim or snuff each other out; or fight to the death
over this patch of land or that one? Is there another
version of all this playing out somewhere,
where Adam does not have to work by the sweat of his brow;
where childbirth is painless for Eve; and the serpent still lisps,
but has legs; and where everyone is naked, and happy about it?
How many beginnings will God offer us?
How many in-the-beginnings have there already been?
How many times till we see that the Word was with God,
and the Word was God; that he was in the beginning
with God; that all things were made by him; and that
without him was not any thing made that was made?
In him was life, and the life was the light of men.
How many times has God called that life into being,
as in the beginning, when he said, “Let there be light?”
Did God say it once? Or is God always
calling creation into being, if everything
is always happening everywhere?
And is there another future for us in which
God’s kingdom is already dawning? In which his people,
born not of blood, nor of the will of flesh,
nor of the will of man, but of God - another
future, in which we do receive him; in which
the Word rules out hearts, and governs our lives?
And in that other future, not only does
the light shine in the darkness, and the darkness does not
overcome it, but the light overcomes the darkness once
and for all; banishing the darkness for ever?
There was a shepherd and his flock who were
good for each other. The shepherd helped his sheep
to be better sheep; and they helped him
to be a better shepherd. They sang each other
to sleep each night - the shepherd and his sheep.
And while they slept, they dreamed of God.
And once, the shepherd woke in the midst of a dream
about love, and when he woke, he could swear that the sheep
were singing about love, as the stars still shone in the sky,
reminding him of the light that the darkness cannot
overcome. He suspected that everything is always
happening everywhere; but he could not prove it, nor did
he even really know what this meant. The sheep,
God bless them, trusted his instinct on this. And besides,
what difference did it make if he was wrong?
And when he awoke from his dream, this is what
he knew, with the sheep singing about love, in the grass:
that the universe is love’s creation of love for love.
And if he was right, then maybe what was needed in the
world was some constructive interference,
to bring about a greater amplitude
of love, by which to align the singing sheep
with that other future in which the darkness
is banished for ever, and love rules all.
Do they know all this in the garden we left behind;
where the scent of honeysuckle is still thick,
and the bees, and the horses know more than we do,
and the lisping snakes and lizards, too, and God
still walks in the garden in the cool of the day, calling
for the light, which never fails?
Do we recall that it was power he gave
to us when we became the children of God?
Do we remember what it means to embrace that Word
who is God of God, light of light,
very God of very God? To receive him?
Do we know how close we are to that version of
the future in which God’s kingdom is already dawning?
And could it be that all that’s required to get
from here to there is that increased amplitude
of love that keeps trying to be born?
Are we still hiding because we remember that we
were naked once? And are we still ashamed?
As if we were not supposed to be naked? As if
we aren’t marvelously made? As if
we aren’t truly children of God?
Somewhere in rooms with blinking screens (if screens
still blink) men with careful creases discuss
target selection. The creases make it seem
like business, but this is war. One cannot
detect the scent of honeysuckle in these
rooms; maybe that’s the problem. And although
the rooms are kept secure, a lisping snake
or two has found its way inside, for sure.
And honeysuckle is no antidote
for war, in a world in which the light is easily
occluded.
What was that Word? Why has God made it
so difficult to pronounce, or spell, or comprehend?
What did he say that caused the morning stars to sing,
and all the sons of God to shout for joy?
Is it the Word that’s hard to grasp, or
are our hands mis-shapen for the task?
What is that Word?
Do you remember how God called out, “Where are you?”
when you had hidden yourself, because you knew
that you were naked? Can you still smell the honeysuckle?
And does your heart yearn for the sound of God
at the time of the evening breeze? Do you believe
that paradise is lost to us? Maybe.
If everything is always happening everywhere,
and time and space scrunch up on themselves,
then there is always another beginning to hope for.
God has not stopped beginning in the
beginning (with apologies to Cole Porter).
And in-the-beginning is a promise-time, returning
again and again, to be spoken into by
God’s voice. We know the Word he spake, for he
has come to us again, again, whenever,
our hands stretched out, receive we him. Just so.
That is the Word.
Can you still hear the sheep singing about
love, as the stars still shine in the sky, and the darkness
cannot overcome the light that lightens the world?
The universe is love’s creation of love for love.
What else is there to say, since love spake love
for love? Except perhaps to echo love
in love’s ear, and call it prayer, or praise.
There was a shepherd who dreamed of love, and sang
of love when his sheep sang love songs too. They were born
not of blood, nor the will of flesh, nor the will of man,
but of God. You, too, were born of God. And if love
created love for love, he created it for you.
Preached by Fr. Sean Mullen
31 December 2023
Saint Mark’s, Locust Street, Philadelphia
