Sermon for the Second Sunday of Lent
Sunday 8 March 2009
Genesis 17. 1-7, 15-16
Romans 4. 13-25
Mark 8. 31-38
“If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves
and take up their cross and follow me.”
Let me start by telling you about some of the good things I have
enjoyed in the past week.
On Monday I received a postcard from my new grandson, Ethan.
He wrote that Auntie Julie had sent him a book of nursery
rhymes. Sadly, Mum doesn‟t have much of a singing voice and
doesn‟t know all the tunes. So please could I come to visit soon
and sing to him?
Of course, Ethan is an extraordinarily gifted child! But even he
can‟t write a postcard at the tender age of seven weeks. No, I‟m
indebted to my daughter-in-law, who understands just how much
we miss Ethan in the gaps between visits to London. Photos
arrive almost daily, by email or mobile phone. How wonderful it is
to have such love and support within the family.
On Tuesday there was more news by post and email, from one
friend who is expecting a baby and another who has just moved
house. And a letter arrived from Uncle Stan, who is 92 years old
and still keeps in touch with everyone.
On Wednesday, in school, my little friend Billy (who has special
needs) told me a lengthy, rather garbled version of the story of
St Philomena. (Don‟t worry if you don‟t know who St Philomena
is! The only reason I knew the name is because there was a
convent school dedicated to her close to the school I attended as
a teenager.)
St Philomena is venerated as a virgin martyr saint of the Roman
Catholic Church and is said to have been a young Greek princess
who was martyred in the 4th century. The story is not one which
is entirely suitable for young children! Nonetheless, young Billy
had heard the story and was able to relate it to me more or less
correctly! True to his Irish ancestry, Billy loves both hearing and
making up stories. The problem is that he has little idea of the
distinction between fantasy and reality. His main ambition in life
seems to be to meet a real live mermaid!
On Thursday we had a trip to Harrogate to visit the Royal
Horticultural Society garden at Harlow Carr. Life doesn‟t get much
better than lunch in Harrogate and tea at Betty‟s, interspersed
with a long - and bracing - walk round a beautiful winter garden.
Friday was supposed to be sermon writing day! I was enticed
away from the computer firstly by the bright sunshine and the
spring flowers in the garden. And secondly by a phone call from
some old friends from Sussex who have unexpectedly arrived in
Northumberland for a week‟s holiday. Oh, yes, and then there
was the rare visit of the greenfinch to the bird table!
Jesus said: „Deny yourself‟.
But what does self-denial mean to ordinary Christians leading
ordinary lives? Is it wrong to enjoy the love of family or the
affection of friends? Is it wrong to enjoy the company of children
or a walk in the spring sunshine? Could anyone really think that
tea and cake at Betty‟s is sinful?
On Tuesday evening last week I came to church for our special
Lenten service of penitence. As part of the service we listened to
a meditation which called us to ask the question:
“What must I let go of so that I can love God with an undivided
heart?”
This, it seems to me, is a key question each of us must ask
ourselves during Lent. Because for each of us the things that get
in the way, the things which keep us apart from God, will be
deeply personal. And they will almost certainly not be the simple,
natural, everyday pleasures of life.
I wonder if any of you have had the opportunity to see and hear
Archbishop Rowan Williams‟ „Reflections on Lent‟ on YouTube?
The Archbishop explains that the word Lent is from the Old
English word for „spring‟. It‟s not about feeling gloomy for forty
days, nor about making yourself miserable for forty days, nor
even about giving things up. Lent is a time of preparation for
Easter when new life bursts through death. It‟s a time when we
need to „sweep and clean the room of our minds and hearts so
that the new life really can take over and transform us at Easter‟.
Of course, my life last week was not all sweetness and light!
On Tuesday, we learned that a long-standing friend who has
terminal cancer has taken a turn for the worse.
And at intervals through the week I became quite troubled by a
few items on the news – as I often do!
One particularly worrying item was about the expulsion of aid
agencies from Sudan following the charges levelled against the
Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir by the International Criminal
Court for war crimes and crimes against humanity. The expulsion
of the aid agencies places the lives of more than a million people
in jeopardy.
Jesus said: „Take up your cross‟.
But what does he really mean by this?
For the people listening to Jesus 2000 years ago, the expression
„taking up the cross‟ would have been all too familiar.
The practice of crucifixion was well-known to the Jews as the
ultimate Roman punishment. The upper part of the cross - the
crossbeam - was made of rough wood, about five feet in length
and weighing about five stone. The condemned man was forced
to carry it through the city streets to the place of crucifixion
outside the city walls. A common and yet terrifying sight for the
onlookers. For the condemned man an immense, crushing
burden.
We, too, have our burdens to bear today.

You don‟t really need me to spell out for you the kind of burdens
which are part of our everyday experience!
All around me I see people shouldering the great weight of pain,
sickness and disability – of grief, loneliness and fear– of financial
hardship and anxiety about the future.
All around me I see the desperation of people who are hungry,
poor, sick, homeless – the victims of climate change, conflict,
oppression, greed and war.
And all around me I see people taking up and sustaining the
responsibility of care for the people they love, and for other
people in need, through prayer and giving and practical action.
Jesus calls us sometimes to leave the green pastures and still
waters of life and to take the steep and rugged pathway, casting
off our bad habits and selfish desires, and taking up, and bearing
with courage and fortitude, the hardships and responsibilities
which life brings our way.
We are to „follow him‟.
“The way is unutterably hard, and at every moment we are in
danger of straying from it…… But if we behold Jesus going on
before step by step, if we only look to him and follow him, step
by step, we shall not go astray…..”
“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books
alone, but in every leaf in springtime,” said Martin Luther.
This spring, this Lent, let‟s tread the path where Jesus leads us,
rejoicing in the promise of resurrection and the gift of new life.
We won‟t have to travel far.
For, as the poet John Keble wrote:
“The trivial round, the common task,
will furnish all we need to ask,
room to deny ourselves, a road
to bring us daily nearer God.”

Where we go, Jesus has been before. There is no temptation he

has not already experienced and overcome. There is no pain he
has not already suffered. There is no challenge he has not
already grasped.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German theologian, who was himself a

man who experienced great hardship and suffering, wrote of „The
Cost of Discipleship‟.