I glanced up from my desk as I sat down to write this sermon and gazed at an icon that has been on my wall for the last 8 years. It is obviously an icon showing the garden of Eden. A green background. Two figures stand on either side of the tree of knowledge.

Although just an icon, painted by someone I know, it is a piece of art which does what all great art does. It inspires some people. It infuriates others. It throws some people into a rage.

And sometimes we must pay attention to rage and make up our minds what we make of it.

The gospel reading that we have set for today seems on the surface to be all about a nature miracle. A storm at sea. A boat tossed about. A saviour who calms the tempest.

In Glasgow, where I come from, we recently went through a big storm that pulled things from the ground and hurled them about.

It was a day where few dared to venture from the safety of their homes for fear of being battered by the stuff flying about as the city was battered by high winds.

But as I think about this gospel reading this morning, it is difficult for me to read it simply as a nature miracle. For the whole world seems to be beset by political storms this week. Even as we find ourselves here worshipping using familiar words and singing comforting hymns, the world feels changed. The ground is shifting beneath our feet. The advent of Strongman politics in the USA and with the apparent triumph of Trumpism has left many across the world breathless. And fearful. Things have changed this week. Old alliances feel as though they no longer hold true. The way the world was is gone. Security guarantees that seemed to be forever are no more.

And who in public life in America and nearer to home will dare to venture from the safety of their political homes to stand in the way of the unfolding events for fear of being battered by the stuff flying about as the world is battered by storm after political storm?

As I got this far in preparing this sermon, I looked up again at the icon above my desk. The garden of Eden. A dark background. Two figures stand on either side of the tree of knowledge. It is a familiar archetype yet there is something unfamiliar to this version of the icon of paradise. Something that draws the eyes. And then you notice the names above the figures.

The icon depicts something that is behind the rage that has led to the new political world order that we are watching unfold before our eyes.

It is a peaceful scene. And religious people tend to believe rather deeply that a world of peace and harmony is a godly world. We believe that a world put right is part of the mission of God in the world, a mission that we can be part of.

A world where the hungry are fed, the violence stops, the tears are wiped from every eye and everyone gets to sit in security in the shade of their own tree. This is emblematic of the paradise that we find in scripture.

Scripture begins and end with images of the peaceable kingdom being represented by all being well, in a garden.

I glance up at the icon again and read the names of the two figures on either side of the tree of knowledge. And I smile at the sight of their names.

Adam stands on one side. His name written above his head. And Steve stands on the other side of the tree. Also clearly named.

It is an icon and Adam and Steve in the garden of Eden at peace in the cool of the day. Two men. Naked and delighting in the world that God has made.

It is the kind of picture that raises cries of wokery from some and draws fascination from others.

It is the kind of picture that infuriates those of a conservative mindset and delights those of a progressive one.

I have little doubt that there would be some these days who would condemn it as degenerate art.

The fury of some in the face of such art is but one of the many things that has led to the political reset that we are seeing unfold before our eyes each day.

My icon says something to me. But what?

And as I read the scriptures to prepare for this sermon that icon speaks to me.

It says, read the chapter from Genesis again. Read it as though it is about more than the gender of the participants.

And I do read the chapter again. And I realise that I delight in seeing that Adam represents all people. And Eve represents all people just as much.

Adam represents the fact that we are all creatures – beloved creatures of a God who was always interested in our company. And Eve, the one created from Adam’s side represents the fact that we all need to be helpers.

And my icon undermines so many theological and societal presumptions about men and women.

As it happens, I was, I think, the first priest outside North America who was licensed to preside at the wedding of same-sex couples – an issue which still seems stormy in the Church of England.

As all kinds of couples have prepared to be married in my office over the last 8 years, the icon of Adam and Steve has been present. It could just as easily have been an icon of Eva and Vera too.

As I begin to draw the writing of this sermon to a close, I gaze up again at the icon before me. Two figures on either side of the tree of knowledge.

They are at peace.

And I believe that peace is our destiny.

Each created. Each beautiful. Each loved by God.

As we all are.

Each dependant on the other. Each created to help another.

As we all are.

And as the storm rages. I hold onto the hope of Godly people through the ages. The hope of a world put right by good people inspired and aided by a loving God who aim to build the kingdom of peace on earth. Where the hungry are fed, the fearful find protection, the sorrowful are comforted. And all is right with the world again.

And our true destiny, the peaceable kingdom of our loving God becomes our everlasting dwelling place.

And I believe that our God will be with us if we can grasp this vision.

For they went to him shouting, “Master, master, we are perishing.”

And he woke up and rebuked the wind and the raging waves.; they ceased and there was calm.

So may it be.

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.