The secret symbol of hope found in the catacombs.
Hebrews 6:13-20
When God made a promise to Abraham, because he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you and multiply you.’ And thus Abraham, having patiently endured, obtained the promise. Human beings, of course, swear by someone greater than themselves, and an oath given as confirmation puts an end to all dispute. In the same way, when God desired to show even more clearly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it by an oath, so that through two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible that God would prove false, we who have taken refuge might be strongly encouraged to seize the hope set before us. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered, having become a high priest for ever according to the order of Melchizedek.
One of the very early Christian symbols that we find on the walls of the catacombs is the symbol of the anchor.
And here in Hebrews the anchor is a symbol of our hope.
Hebrews 6:19: “We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered”
This is an anchor that is secure – not like my anchor which is causing me a few problems.
When we drop the anchor it goes down deep out of sight.
But this anchor offers a secure hope because it is grounded not down below but up there in heaven. It is rock solid, and we are holding on to it
1. The anchor reminds us of Jesus’ sea ministry.
It reminds us of his ministry beside the lake of Galilee, when he preached from boats, travelled in boats, protected boats in storms – as we read in our gospel, and proved to be quite helpful when you were out fishing and catching nothing
There were also occasions when he demonstrated that boats were not always necessary for travel over water.
Just over the hill here there is the sea. It is good for us to remember not just those who use the water for recreational purposes, but those for whom the sea is their livelihood.
And we know the danger of the sea.
A couple of months ago I took the funeral for the granddaughter of one of the two people who survived the Eliza Adams disaster in 1880, when 11 life boatmen were killed. One who survived was trapped in the overturned boat until the mast broke and the boat righted itself. The other managed to cling to the rudder and was eventually washed ashore.
And I was shown Peter Beck’s certificate when he rescued 3 girls from their capsized boat which had gone over the bar, but their father died.
In 2024 the International Labour Organization recorded 449 deaths of those who work in the maritime industry, over half because of disease or sickness on board. But only 66 countries reported incidents, so the accurate global figure is much higher.
And today there are the added tensions in major conflict zones, and we think particularly of those waiting to sail or sailing through the Hormuz Straits. There was a quip on a podcast when someone likened it to Schoedinger’s cat: both open and closed at the same time.
We thank God for mariners, sub-mariners, divers, marine rescue, those in our oil fields and wind turbine fields. And we pray for them.
But we also remember that we have a Saviour who has been there.
But Jesus turns symbols of death into symbols of life.
The cross becomes a symbol of victory.
The tomb becomes the place of resurrection.
And as we hold on to the promise of God and the Lord Jesus, our anchor, we discover – in the storms of life, in the drifting, in the uncertainties of life and even in death - that it is for us a symbol of hope and a symbol of life.
When God made a promise to Abraham, because he had no one greater by whom to swear, he swore by himself, saying, ‘I will surely bless you and multiply you.’ And thus Abraham, having patiently endured, obtained the promise. Human beings, of course, swear by someone greater than themselves, and an oath given as confirmation puts an end to all dispute. In the same way, when God desired to show even more clearly to the heirs of the promise the unchangeable character of his purpose, he guaranteed it by an oath, so that through two unchangeable things, in which it is impossible that God would prove false, we who have taken refuge might be strongly encouraged to seize the hope set before us. We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered, having become a high priest for ever according to the order of Melchizedek.
One of the very early Christian symbols that we find on the walls of the catacombs is the symbol of the anchor.
 |
| Note the anchor and the fish. Catacomb of Domitilla, Rome, late C2nd |
Hebrews 6:19: “We have this hope, a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters the inner shrine behind the curtain, where Jesus, a forerunner on our behalf, has entered”
This is an anchor that is secure – not like my anchor which is causing me a few problems.
When we drop the anchor it goes down deep out of sight.
But this anchor offers a secure hope because it is grounded not down below but up there in heaven. It is rock solid, and we are holding on to it
1. The anchor reminds us of Jesus’ sea ministry.
It reminds us of his ministry beside the lake of Galilee, when he preached from boats, travelled in boats, protected boats in storms – as we read in our gospel, and proved to be quite helpful when you were out fishing and catching nothing
There were also occasions when he demonstrated that boats were not always necessary for travel over water.
Just over the hill here there is the sea. It is good for us to remember not just those who use the water for recreational purposes, but those for whom the sea is their livelihood.
And we know the danger of the sea.
A couple of months ago I took the funeral for the granddaughter of one of the two people who survived the Eliza Adams disaster in 1880, when 11 life boatmen were killed. One who survived was trapped in the overturned boat until the mast broke and the boat righted itself. The other managed to cling to the rudder and was eventually washed ashore.
And I was shown Peter Beck’s certificate when he rescued 3 girls from their capsized boat which had gone over the bar, but their father died.
In 2024 the International Labour Organization recorded 449 deaths of those who work in the maritime industry, over half because of disease or sickness on board. But only 66 countries reported incidents, so the accurate global figure is much higher.
And today there are the added tensions in major conflict zones, and we think particularly of those waiting to sail or sailing through the Hormuz Straits. There was a quip on a podcast when someone likened it to Schoedinger’s cat: both open and closed at the same time.
We thank God for mariners, sub-mariners, divers, marine rescue, those in our oil fields and wind turbine fields. And we pray for them.
But we also remember that we have a Saviour who has been there.
He has experienced the power of the storm at sea – when we are overwhelmed by a force that is so much greater than us. And there were times when he demonstrated to us that he has a greater power when he calms the storms.
But the anchor reminds us that he came to earth from heaven not just to calm our storms, but to walk with us through the storms (both literal and metaphorical), to hold us firm in them and to bring us – in the words of the Psalm 103 – to our ‘desired haven’.
And we hold on to our anchor in heaven. We hold on to him.
2. The shape of the anchor reminds us of the cross.
It speaks to us of Jesus, of his death and resurrection.
Indeed, when one reads this passage Jesus could be the anchor.
He is the one who has gone into the presence of God the Father in heaven. He has gone as one of us.
In the Old Testament the only way that a human representative could enter the place where God was said to be, at the very heart of the temple, was through sacrifice.
A sacrifice was a way of recognising that everything we have comes from God, and is an offering back to God what he has already given us.
It was a way of recognising that we owe our very lives to God, and that before God, because of our sin, we have no right to life, we deserve to die and are completely dependent on his mercy.
And so, in the Old Testament, it was necessary that the representative identifies himself with a beast, which is killed, and only then, when he is covered with its blood (Old Testament sacrifices were very messy affairs), could he enter into the presence of God
But now we do not need blood sacrifices.
Because Jesus offered the perfect sacrifice – himself – once and for all times.
And he has gone not into an earthly sanctuary but into the heavenly sanctuary. And he is there.
And that is why we can come into the presence of God.
He is the reason we can make the assumption that God wants good for us. It is why we can dare to call God our Father, and ask him for daily bread, for forgiveness, for guidance and protection.
The anchor reminds us of Jesus, of the cross, that he loves us, that his arms are open wide to us, and that he is in heaven praying for us.
And we hold on to our anchor and we hold on to him.
3. The anchor reminds us of our hope
It is not surprising that the symbol of the anchor was used by the first Christians in the catacombs.
These were the places where the Christians both secretly met in times of persecution and also buried their dead.
The anchor has become a symbol of hope
When you are drifting it holds you
When you are in a storm it can stabilise you
But it has to be rooted in something solid and it has to be strong enough.
Our reading speaks of a promise of God, given by God and sworn with an oath, that ‘I will surely bless you and multiply you’.
It is the promise that God looks on us with love and desires for us the absolute eternal best.
This promise is a secure and certain hope. It is an anchor that is strong enough and it is rooted in something solid. And we hold on to it.
And in the person of Jesus we have one who loves us, was with us and who died for us, and who is in heaven now for us.
He is our anchor, and he will hold us through the storms.
Some may be small. Others not so small.
We are in St Clement's Church. According to tradition, Clement one of the first bishops of Rome, who wrote his letter about AD 95, was thrown into the sea with an anchor tied around his neck. For his executioners the anchor was a symbol of death.
But the anchor reminds us that he came to earth from heaven not just to calm our storms, but to walk with us through the storms (both literal and metaphorical), to hold us firm in them and to bring us – in the words of the Psalm 103 – to our ‘desired haven’.
And we hold on to our anchor in heaven. We hold on to him.
2. The shape of the anchor reminds us of the cross.
It speaks to us of Jesus, of his death and resurrection.
Indeed, when one reads this passage Jesus could be the anchor.
He is the one who has gone into the presence of God the Father in heaven. He has gone as one of us.
In the Old Testament the only way that a human representative could enter the place where God was said to be, at the very heart of the temple, was through sacrifice.
A sacrifice was a way of recognising that everything we have comes from God, and is an offering back to God what he has already given us.
It was a way of recognising that we owe our very lives to God, and that before God, because of our sin, we have no right to life, we deserve to die and are completely dependent on his mercy.
And so, in the Old Testament, it was necessary that the representative identifies himself with a beast, which is killed, and only then, when he is covered with its blood (Old Testament sacrifices were very messy affairs), could he enter into the presence of God
But now we do not need blood sacrifices.
Because Jesus offered the perfect sacrifice – himself – once and for all times.
And he has gone not into an earthly sanctuary but into the heavenly sanctuary. And he is there.
And that is why we can come into the presence of God.
He is the reason we can make the assumption that God wants good for us. It is why we can dare to call God our Father, and ask him for daily bread, for forgiveness, for guidance and protection.
The anchor reminds us of Jesus, of the cross, that he loves us, that his arms are open wide to us, and that he is in heaven praying for us.
And we hold on to our anchor and we hold on to him.
3. The anchor reminds us of our hope
It is not surprising that the symbol of the anchor was used by the first Christians in the catacombs.
These were the places where the Christians both secretly met in times of persecution and also buried their dead.
The anchor has become a symbol of hope
When you are drifting it holds you
When you are in a storm it can stabilise you
But it has to be rooted in something solid and it has to be strong enough.
Our reading speaks of a promise of God, given by God and sworn with an oath, that ‘I will surely bless you and multiply you’.
It is the promise that God looks on us with love and desires for us the absolute eternal best.
This promise is a secure and certain hope. It is an anchor that is strong enough and it is rooted in something solid. And we hold on to it.
And in the person of Jesus we have one who loves us, was with us and who died for us, and who is in heaven now for us.
He is our anchor, and he will hold us through the storms.
Some may be small. Others not so small.
We are in St Clement's Church. According to tradition, Clement one of the first bishops of Rome, who wrote his letter about AD 95, was thrown into the sea with an anchor tied around his neck. For his executioners the anchor was a symbol of death.
 |
| Miniature accompanying the text of the Vies des saints, showing two men holding the body of St Clement over the water with an anchor tied to his neck. From f.133v of MS B.9, a collection of French works (France, second quarter of the 14th century). Saint Clement being drowned.jpg - Wikimedia Commons |
But Jesus turns symbols of death into symbols of life.
The cross becomes a symbol of victory.
The tomb becomes the place of resurrection.
And as we hold on to the promise of God and the Lord Jesus, our anchor, we discover – in the storms of life, in the drifting, in the uncertainties of life and even in death - that it is for us a symbol of hope and a symbol of life.
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