Sermon for the Enthronement
The Cathedral Church of Saint John the Baptist and Saint Patrick's Rock, Cashel, Sunday 2nd March, 2003:

2nd March 2003
Sermon for the Enthronement
The Cathedral Church of Saint John the Baptist and Saint Patrick's Rock, Cashel, Sunday 2nd March, 2003:

This afternoon, as we meet in this cathedral, the fruit of the vision of archbishop Charles Agar, and to this day so lovingly cared for, my opening words are a twofold thanksgiving to God the Holy Trinity.

First, I wish to thank him for the enormous privilege of his call to serve as a Bishop of the Church in this United Diocese, amongst so many friends of long standing. Secondly, I wish to thank you Mr. Dean for your welcome, and for all your helpfulness in preparing for this Service. In all things, your kindness and generous friendship are evident, not least earlier at the Deanery. Thank you to all those who have assisted you today: flower arrangers and greeters; cleaners and dusters; choir and organist; church wardens and many others. Thank you the parishioners, readers and clergy of the Diocese of Cashel for your welcome to me, my wife and family, and for the promise of your support just declared.

Parishioners of the diocese, I look forward very much to visiting your parishes and to coming alongside you, as we seek to discern afresh God's loving purposes for us at this time of transition. In particular, I look forward to coming alongside my fellow servants of the Gospel, the clergy of the diocese. I wish to listen to you and to learn from and with you; to share in worship with you and your parishioners. My brothers and sisters, graced by the call to Holy Orders, your hopes and fears; your joys and sorrows, and the concerns of your families, will be a special concern of mine.

In speaking of the clergy, I wish also to acknowledge and give thanks for the ministry of Archbishop Neill throughout the United Diocese, and to wish him and Mrs Neill well in their onerous new responsibilities in Dublin.

Welcome to our ecumenical guests: your presence this afternoon is deeply appreciated. In particular, Archbishop Dermot Clifford and Mons Ryan and Lee, other priests of the diocese, along with representatives of other churches. I wish to assure one and all of my profound commitment to our ecumenical pilgrimage in Christ. Friends in Christ, whilst we are gathered to welcome the new Church of Ireland Bishop, we are here to celebrate, indeed to enthrone the Gospel of the Love of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit, to whom be the glory to the ages of ages. In all things as I begin my ministry as your Bishop, I ask for your continued prayer and understanding, and where and when necessary, your forgiveness when I fail you.

Due to the rather startling fact that I am to be enthroned in the six cathedrals of the United Dioceses, I've decided to preach on a different theme on each separate occasion. Not only because of the challenge this presents, or indeed to spare some the boredom of listening to the same thing over and over ! But also because I wish to keep in with my clergy who, by dint of office rather than by choice, will be present at all six. We don't want a clerical coup just yet!

On reflection, I suppose that I am in danger not only of becoming the most 'enthroned' bishop in Christendom. But that, if it goes on much longer, of disappearing from sight heavenwards to, as it were partake of divinity and unseat the Lord at the Father's right hand ! However, in my enthronement sermons, I have decided to examine my ministry as bishop through an exploration of the instruments, the symbols, of the Bishop's Office at each Service. This attempts to see what they tell us about the "office and work of a bishop" in the Church of God today.

For example in Ferns, I explored the significance of the ring worn by the Bishop. The ring traditionally symbolises unity in the faith, in the diocese, in the Church. In Ossory, I explored the symbolism of the mitre, the hat worn by a bishop on special occasions such as this. The mitre traditionally symbolises the Holy Spirit's life-giving presence in the Church and in the world. In Lismore, I explored the symbolism of the pastoral staff, carried by the bishop within his diocese. It symbolises his pastoral ministry modelled on Christ the Good Shepherd. In Old Leighlin, I explored the symbolism of that other most ancient of the symbols of the bishop's office, from which this building derives its name. It is his 'cathedra': the bishop's seat or throne, which points to his teaching ministry.

This afternoon, as the beginning of Lent approaches on Wednesday, Ash Wednesday; as the frightening vista of war looms ever closer on the horizon of the middle east, it is appropriate that I concentrate on that other obvious symbol, the pectoral cross, with which I was presented at my ordination, and which I wear around my neck.

What is its significance for the Bishop's life and ministry? What is its relevance to the life of the Church in the year of our Lord 2003? Surely, nothing more and nothing less than as a constant reminder to faithfully and joyfully 'proclaim Christ crucified' (1st Cor 1:23) by word and sacrament, prayer and praise, deed and silence, in season and out. Those memorable words of a former generation, which can hardly be bettered, come to my mind: 'To so present Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit, that all people shall come to put their trust in God through him, to accept him as their Saviour, and to serve him as their King, in the fellowship of the Church'. This is what my cross asks of me; indeed demands of me. Like any other who takes upon him or herself the name christian, I must first put my trust in the living, loving Lord Jesus as my Saviour and King, and seek to follow him by the light and power of the Holy Spirit.

All would admit that the cross is an instrument of the cruellest torture, and when death came, it came dropping, dripping, slowly, breathlessly, primarily through suffocation. But the Christian goes further and looks not upon this means of torture in isolation. Rather, we say look upon the One who hangs there, upon Him 'whom they have pierced' (John 19: 37); the Lord Jesus who makes this dreadful scene amazingly, mysteriously holy. Look closely; look carefully; see who hangs there. See indeed that "from his head, his hands, his feet, sorrow and love flow mingled down". Because of who it is "who hung and suffered there", we trust that no human experience from birth to death, from the wood of the cradle to the wood of the cross, and indeed death itself, is outside the knowledge and compassion of God. For where Jesus is, God is, and Love loves on.

Our Lord has entered into life's darkest, bleakest moments on his cross; the very worst that life can throw at us has been thrown at him, and more: "He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him' (John 1:11). In Christ, suffering is the sacred beat of God's heart of love, for it is in the midst of suffering that our Saviour declares "It is finished". (John 19: 30). It is in his suffering, by his holy and glorious wounds, that our lesser wounds find their home, and their healing. The suffering of the world; the pain and brokeness of our lives; our sense of personal failure and God forsakeness are embraced by Christ's outstretched and pierced arms on the cross, and in union with his suffering, are brought deep into God's heart of healing love. Indeed in Christ, in union with the Lord of life and death, whose risen body still bears the marks of such passion, suffering can be redemptive; can become the source of a new beginning.

This is very easy to say coming from one who has to the best of my knowledge, no relative suffering from Alzheimer's, Aids or another as yet, incurable disease. Easy to say from someone who has not suffered the death of a child, or the death of a relative cut down as a result of a senseless accident, or wilful act of violence. However in my defence, I am not unacquainted with suffering and with death both at the pastoral and personal levels. Equally, I know that our response to suffering depends often on our temperament: what is major to one individual is minor to another; and vice versa. I know too that the experience of suffering can lead not to new beginnings, but to fresh bitterness and everlasting regret. I do know this. But I know also that attempts to remove suffering: its sight, its smell, its touch from the sphere of human experience is an uncivilised action. Why?

Because the suffering one can, in many circumstances and, "with sighs too deep for knowing" embrace us; can reach deeply into our condition and minister to us, encouraging us in their companionship to go on an extra mile journey of self discovery, even of renewed love. Scripture teaches us that a fruit of suffering is endurance. In the famous Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis, tells the story of letters of advice written by a Senior Devil to one of his subordinates. Here is a piece of it:
"Do not be deceived. Our cause is never more in danger than when a human, no longer understanding but still desiring to do our enemy's (God) will, looks around upon a universe from which every trace of God seems to have vanished, asks why he has been forsaken, yet still obeys God".
In Christ's companionship, suffering is where God's loving, self-giving presence is seen in all its terrible beauty, and it is for you and for me to appropriate the measure of its loving mystery. Therefore, to those who would obliterate all suffering from our midst and so diminish our capacity for mercy, compassion and discovery, the cross of Christ is a true sign of contradiction.

But the sign of the cross is also seared deep into the cosmos itself, and nobody who takes any interest in the affairs of our planetary home can be in any doubt about the awful weight of suffering borne by so many people in the world today. From the atrocities of war to the ravages of famine; from the spread of disease to the wilful actions of the terrorist; from institutional violence to acts of individual madness. Perhaps tragically, 'September 11th , 9/11,' will become a kind of deathly shorthand for all of this, and more; things horribly seen and as yet, unseen ? And dreadfully, we are contemplating more. Yet thank God, in the same breath, the work, the tireless work of agencies of relief and reconciliation, and of technological and medical research, continues at an unrivalled pace in a fellowship of aid and mercy.

The cross of our blessed Lord embraces such suffering, such pain and agony; the "why" of life. It also reveals a remedy, indeed a pledge of eternal worth. At one level, it exemplifies the age old problem of why suffering and injustice have to afflict the innocent and the vulnerable. Why one race, one family, one person have to endure so much while others, perhaps less virtuous, sail through life virtually "scott free". This eternal dilemma is found throughout the bible, particually in the book of Job; he cries out -
"Why do the wicked live, reach old age and grow mighty in power?" (Job 21:7).
Have we Christians anything to say about this? Have we any comfort, any word of hope to offer "amidst the encircling gloom" when confronted by such honest anguish? Well, I think we need to face the fact that in some, perhaps in many dreadful and tragic circumstances, it is far from easy "to light a candle rather than curse the darkness".

Perhaps in the companionship of the Holy Spirit, we do better to remember the example of our blessed Lord, who when pressed for answers in the presence of Pilate, was silent (see John 19: 8). Or recalling his most blessed example, we too can cry out in despair against the dying of the light, "My God, my God why have you forsaken me?" (Matthew 27: 46). But before we box ourselves into a corner, it is worth remembering that the problem of suffering is, in essence, just as difficult for an atheist to comprehend. Indeed, some of the worst excesses of violence and genocide in the past century have been committed by regimes which were avowedly atheistic. Together, we need to explore ways through this collective ignorance for the good of all. Yet I do believe we Christians can say something about God and suffering by pointing to a "green hill far away" and to a cross, indeed to three crosses which stand there.

Indeed, our Saviour was not crucified alone, for were there not three crosses on Golgotha? As if to say that on the cross, from the cross, he is present, not just alongside, but beside, between, within the agonised; reaching out, stretching beyond, to embrace another in need. And always, as he did to one of the co- crucified, seeking to bring comfort: ' Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise'. (Luke 23: 43). On the cross, the agony of God's fragile creation and the agony of God's vulnerable love are inextricably linked and entwined. In its shadow we must enfold the world's fear and pain in constant intercession to the Father through the Son in the tenderness of the Holy Spirit. Well do we 'pray for the peace of Jerusalem', not least at this time of global fearfulness. For in praying for Jerusalem's peace, we are praying for the peace of the world. The world loved and redeemed by the Lord, who high and lifted up on the throne of his glorious cross seeks to draw all people to himself. Blessed be God forever. Amen.

Galleries of Bishop Peter's Consecration & enthronements

Cashel Cathedral

The 6 sermons preached by Bishop Peter at his entronements

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