Pentecost 8 Year A

Jacob took a stone and put it under his head. He lay down and he had a dream. I’m minded to say, that is quite an extraordinary beginning to a story. How many of us would take a stone for a pillow and comfortably settle down into a dream filled sleep?

The context is that Jacob was on the move. He had cheated his brother Esau out of his birthright. His father had sent him away. Is it possible that by the time Jacob reached his stopping place he was not just exhausted from the journey and the heat, but he was perhaps beginning to reflect on how he had behaved and the consequences that he was now experiencing. I can’t imagine that he was feeling very pleased with himself. His internal narrative perhaps said that he deserved nothing better than a patch of hard ground and a stone for his head. Had he reached what is known in some circles as his rock bottom – a place of surrender, and recognition that however much we may long to be in control, we rarely are.


And it’s when he is in that completely bereft place that he has the vision that we know so well.
The story reflects a 3-tier universe. Jacob may have feared that any ladder would be inviting him into the place below, the underworld he perhaps felt he deserved to be going – but no. God is far more generous to him than that. The ladder leads directly into the heavens, into the place where angels live and minister alongside their God. And here we get the impactful imagery. The angels of God ascending and descending. That image of continuous movement seems to be important. The angels don’t arrive and deliver a message – which is much more akin to our expectations of angels – but they create some kind of visual art as they fill the ladder, or stairway as we have in this morning’s translation, from both directions. My mental image is of a chaotic mass of wings and feathers and feet so that the structure they’re balanced on is barely visible. Our attention is drawn not to the physical connection between heaven and earth but to the constant movement that exists between the two. It’s a reminder that however immersed we are in our trials and tribulations – and Jacob was certainly experiencing a few of those – there is something else going on around us and beside us.
The imagery from St Patrick’s breastplate is perhaps helpful – Christ behind me, Christ before me; Christ below me, Christ above me, and so on. This connection isn’t like a phone call that has a beginning and an end, it’s something more like the radio waves that enable the phone you use to make that call. The potential is always there – and you can choose when and whether to access it.

Like Jacob, we are more likely to reach out into that sacred space when we are struggling, when things are not going our way. For most of us, a point comes in the midst of a crisis or process of decision making, of whatever sort, when we recognise that the only thing we can do is to pray – whether or not we trust in that moment that there will be a response to our prayer. We probably don’t expect the response to come in the form of a dream – although it might. But it may come from a similar unconscious place. That internal place is also the source of our daydreams, our internal musing and exploration of what could perhaps be when we give ourselves permission to entertain whatever comes into our heads.

We can be very quick to dismiss the responses we have that come in the form of a daydream. We tell ourselves that we are just caught into wishful thinking. That we are moving into a fantasy world of ‘if only’. But I want to suggest that the line between dream and daydream is quite fine.

Both come from a less conscious place within us. Both are vehicles for something to emerge that isn’t a thought, and certainly isn’t a well-argued thought, but comes from a much deeper and more spiritual place within us. You may argue that it comes from the incarnational Christ that each of us carries within us. That the response to God arises from God and our unconscious selves are a conduit for that communication.

This morning’s psalm reinforces this thinking. O God you have searched me and known me. Even before a word is on my tongue you know it completely. God isn’t just with us, God is within us; we are God bearers – even us who feel unworthy much of the time.

So how might we respond, how might it be appropriate to respond, when that unexpected, perhaps even unwelcome thought arises? I want to begin by saying, fairly obviously, that not every impulsive idea that emerges is of God. Our task is to discern that which is of God and that which we need to let go. Some of our emergent thoughts are, indeed, wishful thinking. And some aren’t.
Sorting out the difference between those two things is the work of prayer. If something is of God, it won’t just go away. It won’t disappear in the chaos of our internal dialogue. It will emerge and re-emerge. Things that are of God are more like an itch. You can turn away from them for a while, you can distract yourself with something more attractive, but you will find that it is rather persistently still around. So, make the time to sit with whatever has emerged for you. St Ignatius says that we should live a day as though it were true and to spend that day observing our own reactions and responses. The things that are of God will wait for you to process your thoughts, will wait for you to seek assurance, perhaps from others, that this is indeed a path to pursue.

Having taken the time to discern in prayer and consultation, there is still no need to rush. At that point of clarity, or something more akin to clarity perhaps, it’s good to take breath and to pause for long enough to give thanks. Remember that we’re thinking here about a 2-way process, the constant movement between heaven and earth that is illustrated by the image of the angels on the ladder.

A moment to express gratitude, to give back, if you like, something of the grace that has come your way. To make a tiny contribution to all that supports and sustains us in our lives on this earth. All things come from God, all things eventually return to God.

For any one of us, there will be times when we find ourselves on hard ground, find ourselves looking around for the softer edges that aren’t apparent at first sight. Those are the moments to pause, to settle in whatever way we can, to let go of the busyness at the front of our thinking and to make the space for that which is of God to bubble up – in words or imagery or soundscape. And when it does, to take it seriously. To take ourselves seriously. And only then to seek to understand what might come next.