Not Perfect, But Being Perfected

 Revelation 7:2-4, 9-14 ‘Behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages.’

1 John 3:1-3 ‘We shall see God as he is.’

Matthew 5:1-12a ‘Blessed are the poor in spirit.’

+

I am not generally one for quoting Gandhi in sermons, but he did have some words to say about the Sermon on the Mount, part of which, The Beatitudes, we have heard as the Gospel for this great Solemnity of All Saints.

Gandhi is quoted as saying that, on hearing it, ‘The Sermon on the Mount went straight to my heart.’

It’s a beautiful sentiment, and the witness of the saints is that The Beatitudes do speak direct to the human heart.

Gandhi even said:

If I had to face only the Sermon on the Mount and my own interpretation of it, I should not hesitate to say, 'O yes, I am a Christian.'

Oh dear.

It sort of sounds good, but the thing is that the Gospel is not solely the Sermon on the Mount; and it is not a bit of homespun wisdom to interpret to suit ourselves.

But it’s a view that’s been taken on by those who describe themselves as ‘spiritual but not religious’.

Like Gandhi they might say:

I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.

Of course, that is a challenge to us that we must take seriously: we are to be ever more Christlike.

As the first letter of John puts it:

Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.

Christians are not perfect, but we are being perfected.

And if we want to know whether the Beatitudes can actually be lived, we look not to theories and philosophies but to the saints and to lived reality.

There are striking similarities between much contemporary spirituality and some of the assumptions of ancient Gnosticism.

Gnosticism has the idea that salvation comes through secret or mystical knowledge (gnosis).

This boils down to seeing Jesus as an inspired teacher, but not following his teachings; to seeing the mind as higher than the body, leading to the denigration of the body; to prizing private revelation and insight and rejecting the Church Christ founded.

All which Catholic Christianity refutes.

The problem for the Gnostics of old, and the many there are today, is that Jesus was incarnate; he had a body.

Catholic Christianity is rooted in the incarnation of the Son of God, who is born of the flesh of the Blessed Virgin; we are redeemed by his bodily crucifixion; glorified by his bodily resurrection and ascension into heaven.

Gnosticism is a great temptation for the contemporary Church: ‘spiritual but not religious’ sounds attractive, but it is incomplete, not bold enough: incomplete because it stops short of the bold claim that God became flesh.

The great antidote to all this is the lives of the saints whom we honour today.

To honour the saints is not to honour perfection, but those who are perfected.

The saints are human beings who inhabit the teaching of Jesus Christ in real lives.

We see in the saints the acknowledgment of their poverty of spirit: saints mourn over their sins; they are meek in the face of Christ’s majesty; they hunger and thirst after righteousness; they are merciful, pure in heart and, seeking the peace that is Christ's gift, they bear persecution on Christ's account.

To be sure, there are mystics amongst them, some who disciplined their bodies and undertook great feats of prayer: the saints are spiritual and religious!

The practice of our religion, lived out in our bodies, lifts our spirits to the Lord.

Saints can and should unsettle us too.

They set a bar to which we aspire, and we cannot domesticate them.

Look what is done to St Francis, he becomes a carbon neutral, eco-warrior rather than one who conformed his life to Christ so deeply that he bore, in his body, the very wounds of Christ.

Look at how the Celtic saints are appropriated as cuddly nature lovers, rather than those men and women who braved the elements and their intense and gritty encounter with the King of Glory.

Look at how Julian of Norwich has become a feminist icon whose Revelations of Divine Love are set aside by those for whom the bloodiness of motherhood and crucifixion are not spiritual enough.

The saints are not people who admired Christ from afar.

They followed him.

They suffered with him.

They were transformed by him.

And now they stand before the throne and before the Lamb, rejoicing and glad because their reward is great in heaven.

That is our calling too, because we are not perfect but are being perfected.

We hold before us the image of the Book of Revelation, of:

a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, ‘Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!’

This is the beatific vision, revealed in heaven and anticipated on earth as we gather, with all the saints at the altar now, bowing down and worshipping God, crying out:

 ‘Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honour and power and might be to our God for ever and ever! Amen.’