Sermon for the 17th of August - Ninth Sunday after Trinity - St John the Baptist

For those who enjoy films, I wonder what’s your favourite trilogy? What would you put forward as the greatest set of three movies ever made?

Lord of the Ring has got to be up there. But for me, it’s The Godfather trilogy. It’s epic cinema—over nine hours long—and tells the tragic story of the Corleone family, especially the journey of Michael Corleone from reluctant heir to ruthless mafia boss.

It’s a story of power, violence, and legacy. And throughout, the Church doesn’t come off well. Priests appear more interested in power and money than holiness. The final instalment even depicts corruption reaching the highest levels of the Vatican—something the real-life late Pope Francis worked hard to reform.

Yet in this bleak portrayal, one character stands out—Cardinal Lamberto. He’s portrayed as a man of deep prayer and integrity, and there’s one moment in the film that has stayed with me. Michael Corleone comes to visit him, seeking advice on murky financial dealings within the Church. Standing by a fountain, Cardinal Lamberto picks up a stone that’s been lying in the water and cracks it open. Inside, it’s completely dry.

“Look,” he says, “this stone has been lying in water for a long time, but the water has not penetrated it. That is what has happened to people in Europe. They are surrounded by Christianity, but Christ does not live within them.”

It’s a powerful image. A warning. And a question: has Christ truly penetrated our hearts? Or are we surrounded by faith, yet untouched by it—dry and unchanged?

Our readings today help us wrestle with this very question. In Jeremiah 23, the prophet contrasts the false prophets—who tell people only what they want to hear—with the true word of God. This is how he describes that word?

"Is not my word like fire," declares the Lord, "and like a hammer that breaks a rock in pieces?"

It’s not a cosy image especially for those familiar with harsh, punitive interpretations of scripture.  Fire consumes. Hammer shatters. God's word doesn’t just soothe; it shakes. It disturbs our comfort, exposes our idolatry, and dismantles whatever we use to shield ourselves from truth.

And Jesus, in Luke 12, says something equally unsettling: “I came to bring fire to the earth…”

God’s word is not simply a balm for the wounded—it is also a fire for the impure and a hammer for the hardened. It brings truth, and truth can be profoundly uncomfortable, which is why we often try to avoid it.

So again we come back to Cardinal Lamberto’s stone. If our lives were cracked open, what would God find? Has the water of baptism penetrated beyond the surface? Has the fire of Christ burned in us, or do we simply live near the flame without being changed by it?

This is absolutely not about God’s angry fiery judgment. God’s fire is not destructive like a wildfire—it’s refining, like a blacksmith’s forge. God’s hammer doesn’t crush to ruin, it breaks open so that new life can begin. The goal is not condemnation but transformation. It’s about bringing God’s restoring and healing balm to help us live more fully ourselves. That healing balm is available today, we offer the sacrament of healing after receiving communion for anyone who would like it.

We are given this invitation every Sunday: to experience something of the unconditional love of God in our broken lives, for that love to seep into the core of our being, into our hearts, and for that love to overflow in our lives to those who also are broken and in need of God’s healing touch.