Sermon for June 1, 2025
Easter 7 C
John 17:20-26; Psalm 97
Rev. Karl-John N. Stone
Jesus prayed that everyone who believes in him “will all be one, just as the Father and I are one.” I learned a bit about this quest for unity in Christ on the Celtic Christian Pilgrimage I just returned from in Ireland.
The first couple days of the trip we spent in the medieval old town of Galway, on Ireland’s west coast. In just those first two days I experienced many memorable adventures, much music, and lots to see. But the last place we visited in Galway was St. Nicholas Church—where we worshiped in a 705-year-old sanctuary that has witnessed many ups and downs over the centuries. There is even pretty good evidence that Christopher Columbus worshiped there when he was a wine merchant—this is before he became famous (and before he became infamous). We chatted with one of the pastors, named Alistair, before and after the service. He gave us a beautiful blessing before we continued our journey, and he was very generous with his time, giving us a mini-tour of the church and explaining some of the history.
In about 1652, during Oliver Cromwell’s conquest of Ireland, his troops laid siege to Galway until they forced it to surrender due to starvation and plague. When the soldiers entered the city, they occupied St. Nicholas Church and used it as a stable for their horses. Their lack of respect came because they were “iconoclasts”—they believed any kind of religious imagery was “idolatrous” (and there was a lot of Christian art and imagery it in the church). They believed they were following the words of Psalm 97:7, “confounded be all who worship carved images”—but they didn’t understand that the people weren’t worshiping the images; the images were simply a way to preach the gospel through art and point towards Christ. So, before the soldiers finally left the church, they smashed off the faces of all the stone carvings they could find. They smashed off the faces of angels. They smashed off the face of the risen Christ. BUT, high up on a pillar, at the foot of an arch, an angel still stands with wings unfurled, his hands folded serenely and a peaceful grin on his face—the only figure to escape the destruction of Cromwell’s troops. To this day, the church affectionately calls him “The Smug Angel”. The Smug Angel! He keeps smiling as if to say to Cromwell and his men, “Ha! You didn’t get me!” The Smug Angel reminds us that violence in the name of religion does not bring the unity Jesus prays for; and while religious violence may appear to triumph for a time, it will not have the last word.
After visiting Galway we made our way to the Dingle Peninsula—the very westernmost point in all of Europe. It’s a place of deep culture, history, and beauty, and on the last day of our pilgrimage we found a very different witness to that of Cromwell, carved right into the stones. We were hiking the old pilgrim pathway, the “Saints Road”, which eventually leads to the top of Mount Brandon, the second highest mountain in Ireland. Back in the 6th through 12th centuries the pilgrims who walked this path were inspired by St. Brendan the Navigator, who by tradition set sail with 14 companions on a seven-year voyage to the west, looking for the Promised Land of the Saints which God revealed to him in a vision. Some believe he may have reached North America, 500 years before Leif Erickson and almost 1,000 years before Christopher Columbus! Or perhaps he reached the Canary Islands, or the Azores, or someplace else. In any event, St. Brendan founded several churches and monasteries throughout Ireland, Wales, and Scotland—and he brought Christians together in unity as they sought Christ’s presence through companionship, the adventures in ministry they had together, and by inviting others to join them in the journey of faith. Because of his ministry, pilgrims flocked to the far-flung Dingle Peninsula to seek the spiritual guidance of St. Brendan.
Monasteries and oratories—houses of prayer—were constructed along the Saints Road for the pilgrims to pray. One of them was the Gallarus Oratory. Built over 1,300 years ago, it’s the oldest fully intact church in Ireland, and is shaped like the keel of an upside-down boat, perhaps in tribute to St. Brendan the Navigator. Another site along the pilgrim path is the Riasc monastic settlement—a monastery from the 6th through 12th centuries, where the monks had everything they needed for a good life: farmland to grow crops, a short walk to the bay to go fishing, stone huts to live in, an oratory for worship, and companions for working, praying, and deeply “doing life” together.
The locations of both Gallarus and Riasc were already considered holy places of worship in the Celtic pre-Christian society. But when St. Brendan and other early Celtic Christians brought the message of Christ there and people accepted it, they did not smash and destroy what had come before (like Cromwell and his soldiers would 1,000 years later). Ancient “Standing Stones” with Celtic symbols carved into them were already present in these places long before the gospel message arrived on their shores. Rather than destroy or deface these ancient symbols, the early Christians simply added to them with a cross at the top. They reinterpreted the previous symbols in ways that pointed to Christ, and they recognized that the presence of God was already in the people who had come before them. Even before Christ and his message were known, the Holy Spirit was at work among the people, inspiring them to reach toward God in their own way, and preparing the soil of their hearts to grow the seed of the gospel when it was planted among them.
St. Brendan and the early Celtic Christians were so effective in sharing the gospel and the way of Jesus because they respected what came before them; and they found in the best of it a witness that was already pointing towards Christ—even as they came to acknowledge and proclaim a more complete understanding of God through their faith in Jesus Christ.
Today, Cromwell and his men are still reviled in Ireland because they operated from a mission of division. As Psalm 97:7 puts it “they delighted in false gods”—the gods of violence and coercion. St. Brendan is still revered because he operated from a mission of unity. He loved the people, cultivated spiritual depth, and recognized that (as Psalm 97:9 also puts it) “the Lord is most high over all the earth; exalted far above all gods”. If God is already over all the earth, that means he is already Lord of every place and people.
The kind of unity that we see practiced by St. Brendan is the kind of thing Jesus prayed for as he prepared himself to go the cross for our forgiveness and salvation. We get to overhear this prayer today in John 17—Jesus’ prayer for the unity of “those who will believe in me through the disciples’ word”. He prays that we who put our faith in him “may all be one”—like God the Father and God the Son are eternally united as one. And the unity Jesus seeks for his followers has a special purpose: “that the world may believe that you [Father] have sent me.”
Unity is not the same as uniformity. Cromwell was after uniformity—if you don’t see things like me, I’ll smash the faces of the angels in your church. Brendan was after unity—coming to people with mutual respect, so that we can build bridges across our differences, and meet the Lord together. Walking that pilgrim path in Dingle I learned a valuable lesson: Everyone can see Jesus more clearly when we look at each person through the love that Jesus already and eternally has for each one of us. Amen.