Sermon: Let all mortal flesh keep silence
From Wellington Cathedral of St Paul
Good Friday 2010: Talk No 3: Let all mortal flesh keep silence CP 309 Frank Nelson
I grew up singing from the English Hymnal where the first lines of hymns were often printed in their original language. For years I have loved the Greek title of our next hymn “Sigesato pasa sarx broteia” – Let all mortal flesh keep silence. As we know it the tune is an arrangement by Vaughan Williams of a French folksong melody. But the words of the hymn go back into the oldest liturgy, the order of service, that has survived down the ages. The Liturgy of St James is usually dated in the 4th century, though some scholars find evidence for a 1st century dating. Cyril of Jerusalem knew and used the Liturgy of St James in the mid 300s AD, and this hymn forms a small part of what is a very long service. Still widely used today in many of those churches known as the Orthodox the hymn as we have it became popular at Anglican Communion services after being included in the first edition of the English Hymnal, edited by Percy Dearmer Ralph Vaughan Williams in 1906. Incidentally, it was Vaughan Williams who gave us that stirring tune Sine Nomine to which we sing “For all the saints”.
The first line comes from a little known book towards the end of the Old Testament called Habbakuk. The prophet contrasts the hand-made idols worshipped by some with the Lord. What use is an idol
once its maker has shaped it— a cast image, a teacher of lies?
For its maker trusts in what has been made,
though the product is only an idol that cannot speak!
Alas for you who say to the wood, ‘Wake up!’
to silent stone, ‘Rouse yourself!’ Can it teach?
See, it is plated with gold and silver,
and there is no breath in it at all.
But the Lord is in his holy temple;
let all the earth keep silence before him!
In the context of the Liturgy for the Mass, or Eucharist, Let all mortal flesh invites us to ponder on the mystery of God – especially as we experience God in the Eucharist. It may seem odd to have chosen a hymn with so many Alleluias on Good Friday – but this is exactly what the mystery is about. This man Jesus of Nazareth, reviled, beaten, nailed to a cross, is the God who created all, who is worshipped by the heavenly host, before whom we bow in silence! The first verse takes us to stand before the Altar where the Eucharist is to be celebrated, beginning, as always, with an invitation to give thanks to God (It is right to offer thanks and praise) and to hear again the rehearsal of the great things God has done. Can we understand it? Not at all! Simply be there.
Let all mortal flesh keep silence, And with fear and trembling stand; Ponder nothing earthly minded, For with blessing in His hand, Christ our God to earth descendeth, Our full homage to demand.
As we would expect from one of the oldest hymns to survive, it is steeped in biblical allusions, references and statements of faith and belief. The second verse picks up themes from John chapter 6 where Jesus, following his feeding of the 5000, talks about being the bread of life. Very truly, I tell you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life. Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died. This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die. I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’
Verse three takes us back to the Prologue of John’s Gospel and the theme of the Light coming into the World and not being put out. In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.
But overall there is the sense of being caught up in heaven and both verses three and four invite us into some of those great heavenly visions where angels and archangels sing the praises of God. So Isaiah 6 begins In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty; and the hem of his robe filled the temple. Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. And one called to another and said: ‘Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts; the whole earth is full of his glory.’ And towards the end of the last book in the Bible, the Revelation to St John, we read After this I heard what seemed to be the loud voice of a great multitude in heaven, saying, ‘Hallelujah! Salvation and glory and power to our God,
for his judgements are true and just;
he has judged the great whore
who corrupted the earth with her fornication,
and he has avenged on her the blood of his servants.’ Once more they said, ‘Hallelujah! The smoke goes up from her for ever and ever.’ And the twenty-four elders and the four living creatures fell down and worshipped God who is seated on the throne, saying, ‘Amen. Hallelujah!’
In a world where there is less and less space for silence it is worth taking a moment to think about the nature of silence. Here are three suggestions of how we might experience silence. • First – that of awe and wonder. This is the silence into which Habbakuk invites us, as we stand before God, or at the top of a mountain looking out over the view, cradling a new-born child, or holding a perfectly formed rose. I think there is something of this silence too in the reaction of people to Jesus – think of the way those who came to arrest Jesus fell back in awe. This silence has a measure of fear to it – though I use that word guardedly. • Second there is the silence of horror, of grief, of numbness. This is the silence of Holy Saturday, tomorrow, when, by tradition, the church does not have any services until after sunset. This is the silence that follows the horror of Good Friday; the numbness on receiving bad news; the emptiness we feel on the death of a loved one. We should not rush to pull people out of this silence. • Thirdly there is the silence of comfort and security. The silence of a child wrapped safe and warm in its mother’s arms. The comfortable silence of two people who know each other so well that words are unnecessary. The silence we sometimes feel in a prayed-in place such as this Cathedral.
After we have sung the hymn I invite you into this silence. Spend the few minutes after the hymn enveloped in the love of God, simply being. Julian of Norwich’s words come to mind at this time All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.
