Isaiah 60: 9 – end; Hebrews 6:17 – 7:10
A few years ago during a family holiday we spent a week walking in the High Tatra mountains in Slovakia. On our first day, before we had fully appreciated just how high or how vertical the High Tatras are, we set out for a longish walk. We’d noticed the mention of chains in our guide book on one section of the walk, but we’d met the odd chain before, so that didn’t put us off. After a couple of hours or so we reached the chained section which was to take us over a narrow ridge between two steep valleys. My three children got to the top a long time before I did. My daughter, the oldest, characteristically, scrambled up sensibly and without a fuss. My younger son, very much a teenager at the time complained a bit, but got to the top and greeted us with, “Why do we do this?” My older son, when I finally reached the top, simply beamed and said. “Mum! I really didn’t think you were going to do that! Good choice Dad!” Truth to tell I wasn’t convinced I was going to do it either. We were climbing across rocks at at least a 45 degree angle most of the time, sometimes steeper, and the footholds were often too far apart for my short legs. The only way to get up was to pull ourselves up on the chains using our arms. There were two reasons why I didn’t give up. One – it was a one way path and you weren’t allowed to go down it; two – going down would have meant looking down into the drop below – which was far too scary! What kept me going was a combination of fear – and the hope that I’d be able to get to the top and complete the walk.
It’s hope, rather than fear, that is the theme of our sermon this evening. In our first reading, the prophet Isaiah gives us a vivid picture of the hope of restoration and glory for the people of Israel, a picture which is taken up in the Book of Revelation and applied to the New Jerusalem. But I want to concentrate on our second reading from the letter to the Hebrews. In this letter hope is centred and rooted in Christ, and the writer takes pains to explain how Christ is worthy of our hope. He’s worthy of our hope firstly because of who He is, and secondly because of what He has done.
Earlier in the letter the writer has explained that Christ, as Son of God, is higher than the angels and greater than Moses who led the children of Israel out of enslavement in Egypt. Now he begins to explore the image of Christ as the great High Priest, foreshadowed by the mysterious Melchizedek. Melchizedek appears once, fleetingly, in Genesis and once in a Psalm. All the priests who served in the Temple were descended from Abraham, but Melchizedek is not. He is from a different, older line. Like Christ, he is both king and priest. Melchizedek blesses Abraham, who offers him tithes, so he must be greater than Abraham, the father of the people of Israel. His name can be translated as ‘king of righteousness’, ‘king of peace’. Epithets which are later applied to Jesus. He brings bread and wine to Abraham which are seen as foreshadowing the Eucharist.
We don’t know who Melchizedek really was, or whether he’s a real or a mythical figure. The point the writer is making is that Jesus is the greatest priest we could possibly imagine. He’s worthy of our hope. He won’t let us down.
Our second image for hope relates to what Jesus has done. The picture is that of a long chain or cord which is anchored at both ends. The writer calls it “a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul”(Hebrews 6:19). From the anchor a cord dips down from heaven to earth and back again. If you can imagine it, it looks like a parabola. The cord is anchored at the creation, which came into being through Christ, who Himself expresses the being and glory of God. It dips down into our world as Christ is made flesh, suffers death and becomes the pioneer of our salvation, or the forerunner as our passage has it. The first one to be raised from the dead. As Christ is raised and seated on the right hand of God, so He takes the cord with him. It’s as if Christ has left us a cable of hope passing through history to which we’re urged to hold on for dear life. Just as I knew those chains were hammered into the rock, so that I could really put all my weight on them and know that they wouldn’t let me down – so the writer to the Hebrews says we can trust in Christ both because of who He is and because of what He has done for all of humanity.
All that may sound fine and good, but how do we make this real for ourselves here in January when it’s cold and dark. When the news contains such shocking stories of human violence and suffering? How do we live our lives hopefully? I commend Father Stephen’s article about hope in this month’s Parish Magazine. It may help us to think this through some more both for our church and for ourselves.
But for those who find images helpful, I’d like to end where I began. Perhaps we’re looking at a long and steep climb ahead and we still feel a little unconvinced. Grasp the chain in faith and look towards Jesus. Don’t look back and don’t look down. Accept help and encouragement from others. And keep going. It may take time and effort, but in the end we will be able to look back and see how far we have come. And the end of our journey is Christ.
Amen