The Armour of God

1989 (Year C), 16 July /
Pentecost 9

St Peter de Beauvoir Town

We all associate armour with war. There are rooms full of it in the Tower of London, children’s armour, young men’s armour, kings’ armour. Tanks and battleships are lined with it. It’s there to defend, but it’s not just confined to war situations, security vans drive through our streets with it inside them.

Communities, on the whole don’t protect themselves with the steel plate variety, they use a more subtle form of armour, but it’s there nevertheless. There are laws of blasphemy, laws governing who might live in particular areas and who might not, rules concerning who might go to certain schools and who might not.

Armour is that which separates. It encircles us and enfolds us, protecting countries, communities and even individuals. We all use it in our daily life, even in our closest relationships. And we’re all incredibly skilful at it although we’d be the last people to recognise it in action in ourselves.

Jack is afraid of Jill
Jill is afraid of Jack.

Jack is more afraid of Jill
if Jack thinks
that Jill thinks
that Jack is afraid of Jill.

Since Jack is afraid
that Jill will think that
Jack is afraid
Jack pretends that
Jill is not afraid of Jack.

And since Jill is afraid
that Jack will think that
Jill is afraid
Jill pretends that
Jill is not afraid of Jack.

Thus, Jack tries to make Jill afraid
by not being afraid of Jill,
and Jill tries to make Jack afraid
by not being afraid of Jack.

Complicated isn’t it? It seems to me to be an accurate reflection of many of our personal relationships. It is an insight into the ways of our personal relationships. It is an insight into the ways human beings behave to one another and how we protect ourselves. It ends like this:

Can each become frightened of being
frightened, and of frightening
not to be frightened
and not to frighten? 

Can Jack and Jill
terrified that each other are not terrified,
become terrified that each and other are terrified,
and eventually,
not terrified that each and other not be terrified.

The whole point of armour is that it protects those who wear it or use it from those who seek to attack them. The protection we seek often takes the form of attack. And we who use it in relationships with one another are so used to using it that we seldom realise what we are doing, not even the damage we’re causing the other person.

At times it appears armour may only have a ceremonial use, although, heaven knows, even then it is tremendously powerful because it shows the strength and status of the wearer. At other times we seem to use it as if it really were a matter of life and death.

The language of the second reading this morning reflects this understanding of armour. It speaks of strength, of shields and helmets of swords so that the darts of the evil one might be resisted. It is very powerful imagery and the danger is that we get left with only the image.

What Paul is actually speaking of is the truth of God, the righteousness of God, the gospel of peace, of faith, of Salvation and of the Holy Spirit.

And the peace and salvation of God was present in the King we proclaim. Yet he is the one who was vulnerable to even to death. Our king of kings and lord of lords was a carpenter’s son who came to serve not to be served. There was no protection for him.

There is only apparent contradiction, as we exalt Christ in his humbleness, see his riches in his poverty, and his omnipotence in his powerless endurance.

And there is vulnerability and an openness to the will of God and creation which fundamentally questions our more familiar notions of conflict and armour, and which calls us to examine again our idea of safety and protection. It has to do, as Paul says with the notion of only being strong when weak.

That certainly is not what the world longs to hear, probably, in our heart of hearts it’s not what we want to hear either, and yet it is central to the gospel. Thos who were enemies can now become friends. Jesus calls his disciples friends. Those who are friends are to live in a city without walls, without armour. AMEN