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| Canon Andrew White, "The Vicar of Baghdad" |
"And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell." —Matthew 10:28
In Baghdad there is an Anglican church called St. George's. In many ways, St. George's is like any other parish: there are baptisms, Holy Communion, sermons, pastoral care, weddings, funerals. There’s a school there. But St. George’s also has a dental clinic and a medical clinic where patients receive free treatment and medication; most of the clinic's patients are Muslims. There's even a food distribution center. But what really distinguishes St. George's from other churches are the bomb barricades that surround the building, the four security checkpoints that anyone visiting the church must go through, and the armed guards.
The Vicar of St. George's wears a flak jacket over his clericals and his cross. That man is the Reverend Canon Dr. Andrew White, an English priest known as the "Vicar of Baghdad.” He’s served St. George's since 1998. At a hefty 6'3", traveling by helicopter and escorted by an armed convoy on his parish visitations, he's been described as "a gospel-toting James Bond."[1] Like 007, Canon Andrew regularly faces mortal danger without fear. Indeed, he describes almost nonchalantly the terrors he's endured: "I've been hijacked, kidnapped, locked up in rooms with cut off bits of fingers and toes and things. I've been held at gunpoint, been attacked, you know, the usual thing." [2] Terrible things have happened to him, he says, but worse have happened to his Iraqi colleagues. One year, eleven of his staff were killed. Nevertheless, in the midst of all this violence and death, Canon Andrew exudes a sense of joy and utter fearlessness.
Canon Andrew embodies the fearlessness to which Christ call his disciples. As we heard in the Gospel reading, when Jesus sends out his twelve disciples, he tells them not to fear. Or rather, he tells them what to fear.
Let’s recall the story: Jesus summons the twelve apostles and gives them his authority to proclaim the good news of the Kingdom of God and to heal the sick and suffering. He sends them out with instructions to take neither money nor extra provisions, telling them to rely on the hospitality of strangers, to trust in God's provision. Jesus sends them out with nothing to hinder their reliance on God's power. They have nothing other than the authority he has given them and go with nothing to promise—not health or wealth or even success—they offer only life in the Kingdom of God, life with Christ.
He warns them of the opposition they will face as they announce the coming of God's reign, which calls into question all competing claims of allegiance. He is sending them out "as sheep in the midst of wolves," because they go unarmed into a world made violent through the delusions of sin. Jesus is straightforward about the cost of heeding his summons. "Beware of men,” he says, “for they will deliver you up to councils, and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake. [...] Brother will deliver brother to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be hated by all for my name's sake" (Mt. 10:17, 18, 20). Jesus warns the disciples about these wolves so that they may not fear the wolves.
As sheep relying only on the gifts of the Spirit, the disciples are unavoidably vulnerable; [3] they will suffer for the sake of the good. But Jesus promises that those who patiently endure will be delivered from evil. He promises those who follow him that they will find, as the prophet Jeremiah did, that the Lord is with them as "a dread warrior" to deliver their lives from the hand of evildoers (cf. Jer. 20:11). As was the case for Jesus, this deliverance may happen beyond death in resurrection, but nevertheless the Lord of hosts will vindicate all those who trust in him. The sheep should not fear the wolves ultimately because Christ, the Lamb that was slain, has conquered death. Therefore, the sheep need not fear to follow Christ, even to the point of suffering death.
Not only need the sheep not fear, but they can "rejoice and be glad" when they are persecuted on account of the gospel, because this is what happened to the prophets and to the Lord Jesus. For, as he says, "it is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household?" When they are maligned, the sheep are sharing in the suffering of their master, and for this reason they can take courage. As John Chrysostom put it, Christ does not take away the terrors, but stands with the disciples in their perils: "All he promises them is that they will suffer with him the utmost ills." [4] With him. To be with Christ is sufficient consolation for those who seek to follow him.
Jesus calls his disciples to fearlessness by teaching them what to fear: "Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell" (v. 28). That is, do not fear persecution, because in your suffering you are drawn very close to the one who was despised and rejected of men. And do not fear death, because the love of God is stronger than death. Instead, fear God, the maker of all things, and judge of all men. Jesus is not here advocating a sort of Theo-phobia—being afraid of God in the same way we are of spiders, or the number 13, or heights. We ought not fear God as we do evils. For God is love, good all the way down, and in Jesus we see that God is always for us.
We ought to fear God, though, as our Creator. We are his creatures and he is wholly Other than us, dwelling in light unapproachable, appearing “in cloud and majesty and awe.” He is the Living One, pure act, utterly free, untamable, a consuming fire. When God reveals his glory—on Mount Sinai in giving the Law or on Mount Tabor in Jesus’ transfiguration—people are bowled over; they fall to the ground in awe and wonder. There’s an old Yiddish proverb that expresses it well: “God is an earthquake, not an uncle.”
So, we are to fear, to revere, God as our Creator. We are also to fear God in the sense of fearing that which would separate us from Christ. This is a subtle point, so I want to be clear here. On the one hand, once Christ has taken hold of you, there is no thing that can separate you from the love of God in Christ. Nothing in all creation.
On the other hand, this side of heaven, we remain subject to temptation and continually need to pray, “Forgive us our sins.” So we should fear turning from the Lord and giving into temptation. Fear putting yourself above your Creator, fear disobeying the commandments of God, fear turning away from the warmth of God's love to the coldness of the isolated self, fear not to be with the Lover of your soul. Turn to God and cling to him not because you are afraid of punishment, but because of your affection towards him. Fear the Lord God out of love, humbly seek to do what pleases him and to avoid what displeases him. As you grow in love, your fear of the Lord will take less and less the form of concern not to displease him, and more and more the form of love, of affection and solicitude—you will be more and more like the child who seeks to please a loving parent, like the bride who beautifies herself for her husband. [5]
Fearing God rightly is the key to not fearing death. I suspect Canon Andrew, "the Vicar of Baghdad,” can face mortal danger without fear precisely because he fears God. By God’s gift, he fears God rightly and so does not fear death. He is like the prophets and apostles and martyrs who—as Augustine puts it—"in fearing, feared not; because fearing God, they did not regard man." [6]
The extraordinary witness of someone like Canon Andrew might lead us to think that such fearing in order not to fear is a sort of heroic virtue, something only for spiritual giants—and therefore not something we commoners should bother cultivating. That would be a mistake for at least three reasons.
First, it is our Lord’s command, and he gives us the strength to carry out his commands.
Second, even spiritual giants are made, not born. Canon Andrew is the bold and joyful Christian he is today because of a lifetime of discipleship. My wife has a little print that reads, “The saints were saints only because they wanted to love God to the uttermost.” That’s about right. Although we should add that this desire led these would-be saints to set about doing all they could to put the love of God first. The saints became exemplary witnesses to Christ’s story because of a series of acts of faithfulness—washing dishes, reading Scripture regularly, stopping to help someone in need, praying when they didn’t feel like it. Through such small acts, love grows, and as love grows, so does the fear of the Lord.
The third and most determinative reason is that the fear of the Lord is a gift. The long tradition of the church has held it to be the first of the gifts of the Spirit. And because the fear of the Lord is a good gift, the one who gives good gifts to his children will not fail to give it to us if we ask. In fact, we already have asked for this gift in today’s collect, when we prayed, “O Lord...make us have a perpetual fear and love of thy holy Name, for thou never failest to help and govern those whom thou hast set upon the sure foundation of thy loving-kindness.” If our Lord was able to make a rag-tag group of Galilean fishermen into his apostles who would turn the world upside down, and if he was able to make an Englishman who suffers from multiple sclerosis into the fearless “Vicar of Baghdad,” he is surely able to pour out his gifts on us here in Dallas. “Ask, and it shall be given you" (Mt. 7:7).
So: fear God and fear not!
"Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground without your Father's will. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows" (Mt. 10:29–31).
Amen.
[1] Timothy George, "The Vicar of Baghdad," First Things.
[2] From documentary “The Vicar of Baghdad,” produced by ITV in the UK (part I, II, III, IV).
[3] Here, and elsewhere, I am dependent upon Stanley Hauerwas, Matthew (Brazos Theological Commentary).
[4] St. John Chrysostom, Homily on the Gospel of Matthew, 33.2, quoted from Matthew 1-13: Ancient Christian Commentary on Scripture, p. 119. NPNF 1 10:215ff.
[5] Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, ST II-II, q. 19 (“Of the Gift of Fear”). I depend heavily on Thomas’ discussion of “filial fear” and “chaste fear”.
[6] St. Augustine, Homily on Matthew 10:28, NPNF 1 6:306.