ADDRESS: MOTHERING SUNDAY Lectionary sermon,12 May 2024 ,Luke 2 40-52 Year b Mothers’ Day

Some mothers get a raw deal.   I feel inclined to start with reflecting back to the news bulletin images we have probably all seen of Mothers trying to protect their children from the shelling both in the Ukraine and in Gaza.   I guess if Luke has it right in today’s gospel reading, Jesus’ upbringing in his home in Roman occupied territory had a good deal to do with how his family environment helped shape his mind and personality. 

Since the Christian faith is meant to make a difference to our relationships and since today (12 May) is on the nation’s calendar as Mothers’ Day, (more recently known by Methodists as Home and Family day)…so a question… Does our faith and upbringing change the way we treat, not only our mothers, but other family members and those we encounter from day to day?

At best, church attendance can only take us part way towards living the Christian life. Sooner or later, we need to decide for ourselves what is important enough to give direction to our life’s journey, and it is good to pause every now and again to ask ourselves how we are living this life, even in our very different homes.

History teaches it is easy to lose one’s way when it comes to Christianity. Sometimes the arguments over the details of interpretation and what the earnest minded and even the fanatical, might call the basics of belief, draw attention away from something Jesus claimed to be at the heart of his message.

Jesus is very clear about the attitude required for this commitment and, according to the gospel accounts he himself was prepared to die for this principle. Remember our reading last week from the gospel of John, we discovered Jesus telling his disciples that they are to love, not just in general, they are to love as he has loved them.  How does that work out in our families?   The first problem is that families and communities are typically more diverse (and I suspect getting steadily more unsettled as the years pass by).   Families are often fragmented and strained for example when marriages breakdown or perhaps when family members shift around the country perhaps seeking better prospects elsewhere. 

 Dr Liz Carmichael from Oxford University, herself one who committed her efforts to working with the afflicted, saw this radical Messianic friendship of Jesus as: “Making friends with people who are not my sort”.  It occurs to me that may at the very least the very least include family members.

Our families should be an easier challenge than strangers.  “You may choose your friends” goes the adage, “but you can’t choose your relatives”. If, as the history of Christianity’s saints suggest, if it is possible to commit oneself to those who might even have a different viewpoint or culture, then how much easier should it be to share commitment to those whose connection is that of a relationship by birth.

Which brings us to Mothers’ Day, celebrated in this country on the second Sunday in May, and for some now called “Church and Family Day”.

The first versions of Mothers’ Day emerged from an ancient past. The ancient Greek Holiday of Cybele and the equivalent Roman holiday of Hilaria, both in their own ways a recognition of motherhood, then underwent many changes.  Today the Mothers’ Day current traditions affecting this country seem largely influenced by England and the US.

The Anglican Church organization in the English countryside in the past was normally that of a Cathedral based in a city or large town with satellite smaller Churches scattered through the countryside – each serving its local community who typically needed to be within walking distance of their church, particularly during the winter when the roads were virtually impassable. The first Sunday in May which generally coincided with a time at which the roads had become passable, the snow melted and the worst of the puddles dried. This was set aside as the day where the small congregations could make their way into the town and there join in celebratory worship in the cathedral.

As this Mother Church Day (or Mothering Sunday) in the Northern Hemisphere developed through the years, since it was also a time when the spring flowers returned, it became customary to gather flowers and give posies of flowers and small gifts to the mothers as they gathered with their families.

Another part to the modern tradition of Mother’s Day as the second Sunday in May comes from the US. Perhaps we should remember one founder Julia Ward Howe. Julia made what she called a Mothers’ Day proclamation in 1870 as a means of encouraging women to support her call to disarmament. In 1908, one Anna Jarvis further suggested that an annual holiday be declared to honour mothers and eventually convinced President Woodrow Wilson to make such a national holiday which he did for the first time in 1914. The idea rapidly caught on, but the commercialization of Mothers’ Day with cards and expensive gifts became so extreme that a disillusioned Anna Jarvis began calling it Hallmark holiday and claimed she regretted ever having started the commemoration.

The day has evolved in different ways in different societies. In most modern Western countries with the changes in society, the typical simple acknowledgement of mothers in a setting of a close nuclear family worshipping together with their local community is now a light year from the reality that many mothers face. With the constraints of the modern economy, even finding an entire family that stays together and worships together is increasingly uncommon. Employment opportunities are often transitory and geographically wide apart. Sunday trading and a diverse society encompassing many beliefs and interests mean that Church itself is now a much more minor part of this nation’s Sunday scene.  True that in many groupings in New Zealand society women are often still given subservient roles, yet for the most part relatively rapid changes have been occurring.

Some of these changes are no doubt a consequence of advances in technology. For many homes, the drudgery of household tasks such as of cooking, washing and cleaning, once immensely time-consuming, is now largely a thing of the past, and there are many more roles now available in the workforce to women. In today’s society, which is still far from perfect, women play a far more significant role and enjoy more freedom. 

Unfortunately, with that freedom comes more potential for disaster.

Just to take one area of concern. In Jesus’ day, the mother was the one most likely to bring up the young child. What Mum did back then would be key for the upbringing of most children.    Today I guess what often happens outside the home has had a bigger influence.   These make the role of the mother much more problematic. You may have heard of the German proverb that roughly translated says: “to become a mother is easy, to be a mother more difficult”.

If you want evidence of this difficulty look around. Ram raids like the recent ones in in the Town centre have included children.  Just think of young children as a part of ram raids at one o’clock in the morning.  Solo parenthood in some parts of this country is now almost the norm. Youth gangs, youth pregnancy, accessibility to drugs and alcohol, statistics showing an increase of violence in the home, youth suicide, the insecurity of short-term employment, youth unemployment, divorce, custody battles … we should not pretend that all is sweetness and light.

Marriage itself is now seen as sometimes optional and certainly less permanent, and solo parents are increasingly the norm. This calls for a different form of community support. Jesus himself foreshadowed one aspect of this change by suggesting that the Church family rather than nuclear family should be a point of support. This has a modern ring.  Loving those whose circumstances bring our way could only help a fractured and uncertain society where there may be no immediate family to fill this role.

In practice we should be truthful with ourselves and admit while John records Jesus as making the ideal of love key to his message, few, if any of the saints were able to achieve this ideal in all aspects of their lives, so while clearly it is an ideal worth striving for, it is probably best understood as a goal rather than as a prerequisite for starting the Christian journey.

Ethics are inevitably situational in that we cannot know in advance what the calls upon the best of our intentions are going to be.

“Greater love has no man than this, that he is prepared to lay down his life for his friend” said Jesus. The catch is that in the real world we have no knowledge of whether or not such a dilemma is going to confront us and still less how we will respond in practice. We do know that such situations are uncommon.

The one who dashes into the burning building to save a trapped child, the one who responds to the call for help against the armed assailant, or the one who swims out in treacherous surf to the drowning swimmer are inspiring but rare examples of Jesus’ injunction, but in the same way the disciples were found wanting when the soldiers came for Jesus, the truth is that we do not know how we would be found in such circumstances.

We know from history that the practice of prayer and Bible reading would not automatically equip us for such an occasion.  How many clergy actually stand up against unfair provisions for families?  How many of us speak up against inhumane Government policy or campaign for tolerance for unpopular minorities? Even Church position is no guarantee of a loving and sacrificial attitude.

Nevertheless, Jesus places this ideal squarely before us so what should our response be? If we are to take his message seriously perhaps the most sensible reaction is to make a determined effort to begin by shifting our first loyalty from ourselves to those around us.    We can never be certain that our commitment to others is going to win through when the unexpected arises, but it does seem to me that until we see those about us as worthy of attention, worthy of sympathy and worthy of sacrifice we have not begun to understand how to honour those we claim to love.

Lectionary sermon for 5 May 2024 Easter 6 Year b on John 15:9-17

Most countries in the West are currently undergoing profound changes in terms of their response to traditional Christianity. Each census over the last forty years has showed a marked decline in the number whose self-identification is Christian. It is true that new immigrants to this country often show a strong religious affiliation to whatever religion was important to them in their home country but typically the new groups also express concern about arriving in a community where there seems to be growing secularity. Many newcomers are naturally uneasy surrounded by what they see as threats to their traditional religious practice while those of us, hanging on to our own churches from childhood, may well for the most part find ourselves in aging and diminishing congregations.

Although some ethnic-based congregations retain a degree of numerical strength, in practice inter-church understanding and cooperation is limited, not least because many of the bigger Churches seem to express radically different notions of purpose.  Some are leader-focused, and some of us maybe uneasy about immigrant newcomers if they represent faith communities we know little about. But whatever the reason, for the most part the Churches and their congregations may well be starting to wonder why their once-respected church community now has limited impact on the daily life of the wider community.

So, for those of us who claim to follow Jesus, how do we want to see our faith working out?

It is hard not to notice that at least some of the disparate sub-groups, all claiming to follow Jesus, behave very differently in living out their religion.  But before we find ourselves criticizing attendees for their approach there is a prior question.

Which faults and strengths would others see us as representing?  Do you think that at least some in our community see us as merely outwardly religious with emphasis on acts of worship. Or are we seen as first port of call when something goes wrong?

Before rushing to self-criticism don’t forget some Church groups are struggling to maintain buildings, pay staff and have little energy left for practical mission. On the positive side most churches have some who are very caring and who visit the sick, offer assistance to refugees and the poor and stand up for the rights of the oppressed. Now would that be us?  What if we are seen as extremely judgemental and rather than seeking ways to help those who are strangers to the community, try to reinforce our own sense of belonging by expressing disgust at those who don’t share our chosen set of beliefs and values. Well, is there anything there that others may think they see in us?

Surrounded by a group of approximately like-minded Church members we might feel comfortable in our attitudes to scripture. We may well assume our faith is affecting our day to day living in a positive way, and even that we are consistent with Christian teaching in the way we treat those outside our circle of faith. Today I want to suggest that just as disciples closest to Jesus needed to be pushed out of their comfort zone in following their master, perhaps we too should be vigilant that we are not becoming too complacent in living of our faith.

Yes, I know that if we are relatively regular in Church attendance, sooner or later, we are bound to encounter many of the standard stories of our faith. And yes, that may be as good a place as any to start the Christian life.

But I guess the real question then becomes: how are we going in developing our own faith action stories in our own lives? And perhaps even more pointed: are our attitudes and actions helping others understand the gospel? 

Studying the Bible, and hearing about Jesus and the adventures of his disciples may inspire us, but surely that can only take us so far towards living the Christian life. Sooner or later, we must decide for ourselves which parts of our faith are important enough to give direction to our life’s journey, and it is good to pause every now and again to ask ourselves if this journey is working out in a positive way for ourselves and those who are influenced by our decisions.

Perhaps it is easy to lose one’s way when it comes to Christianity. Sometimes the arguments over the details of interpretation and what the earnest minded and even the fanatical might call the basics of belief, draw attention away from something Jesus claimed to be at the heart of his message. I may have it wrong but as far as I can tell the message Jesus emphasizes is essentially a call to relationship.

Remember his two key commandments. Love God – and love one’s neighbour. The relationship commitment both commandments require is not admiration for their wisdom.   Rather their whole intention is first to have us embark on a life-long journey to seek that mysterious creative and elusive “God” force which draws us to journey with a sense of wonder, and the second to find and then perhaps use a human setting for the awakened sense of love and compassion. Without this commitment to Love, as Paul so eloquently put it in chapter 13 of his first letter to the Corinthians, we are nothing.

Jesus is very clear about the attitude required for this commitment and, according to the gospel accounts he himself was prepared to die for this principle. In our reading today from the Gospel of John, we discover Jesus telling his disciples that they are to love, but not just love in general, they are to love as he has loved them. Although that sounds straightforward, to find meaning in his statement we must first be sure we know how Jesus expressed his love.

Before we reflect on how Jesus loved the disciples we might pause and remind ourselves for a moment as to who the disciples were. According to all four gospels the disciples were most assuredly not clones of Jesus. Loved they may have been (by Jesus) but they were not all portrayed as particularly loveable. Peter for example comes across as impetuous and, at least before the Crucifixion when it came to the crunch, even cowardly.

We read of those disciples who were ambitious vying for places of honour in heaven, and of course the probably illiterate majority who are portrayed as slow to understand Jesus’ message, not to mention the potentially dangerous Judas.  Have you ever wondered that none were obviously worthy recipients of Jesus compassion and concern. Wasn’t it that the majority are recorded as deserting Jesus at the very time he most needed them?

For all their potential problems, Jesus did not appear to have gone out of his way to choose as followers those like himself. The implication then that by talking of love for one’s fellows as Jesus himself had shown love, was not a prior requirement of those who would be disciples. Jesus’ commitment with his disciples was one to those who happened to be close-by.

Dr Liz Carmichael from Oxford University, herself one who committed her efforts to working with the afflicted, saw this radical Messianic friendship of Jesus as: “Making friends with people who are not my sort”. What was it Bishop Desmond Tutu’s said? “an enemy is a friend waiting to be made”. 

 So, a political question.  Does that mean we are not representing Jesus if we want to keep refugees at a distance?    Would true Christians do that?  Not all of us have the confidence to commit ourselves to strangers, but for most of us, is there another form of relationship thrust upon us by force of circumstance. “You may choose your friends” goes the adage, “but you can’t choose your relatives”. If, as the history of Christianity’s saints suggest, it is possible to commit oneself to those who might even have a different viewpoint or different culture then how much easier should it be to share commitment to those whose connection is that of a relationship by birth.

I suspect loving those who circumstances bring our way could only help a fractured and uncertain society especially where there may be no immediate family to fill this role. In practice we should be truthful with ourselves and admit while John records Jesus as making the ideal of love key to his message, since few if any of the saints were able to achieve this ideal in all aspects of their lives, if that is still is an ideal worth striving for, it is probably best understood as a goal rather than as a prerequisite for the Christian journey.

Ethics is inevitably situational in practice because we cannot know in advance what the calls upon the best of our intentions are going to be. Crunch situations find us out. “Greater love has no man than this, (Jesus’ saying goes) that he is prepared to lay down his life for his friend”. Today can we even widen it and say “his or her”.   Can we admit the catch is that in the real world we have no knowledge of whether such a dilemma is going to confront us and still less how we will respond in practice.

Fortunately, such situations are uncommon. The one who dashes into the burning building to save a trapped child, the one who responds to the call for help against the armed assailant, or the one who swims out in treacherous surf to the drowning swimmer are inspiring but rare examples of Jesus’ injunction, but in the same way the disciples were found wanting when the soldiers came for Jesus, the truth is that we do not know how we would be found in such circumstances.

We know from history that the practice of prayer and Bible reading would not automatically equip us for such an occasion. The small percentage of clergy prepared to stand up against unfair provisions for families, or the few who speak up against inhumane Government policy, or who show tolerance for unpopular minorities suggest that even Church position is no guarantee of loving and sacrificial attitude.

Nevertheless, Jesus places this ideal squarely before us so what should our response be? If we are to take his message seriously perhaps the most sensible reaction is to make a determined effort to begin by shifting our first loyalty from ourselves to those around us. We need to admit we can never be certain that our commitment to others is going to win through when the unexpected arises, but it does seem to me that until we see those about us as worthy of attention, worthy of sympathy and worthy of sacrifice we have not begun to understand how to honour those we claim to love.

Lectionary Sermon for 28 April 2024, Easter 5 B (The True Vine) John 15: 1-8

Let’s face it, since we have no access to TV live recording of Jesus and his interactions with those he met, the best we can do is start by checking with those who collected stories about Jesus all those years ago.  But don’t forget that it took up to three years of the Jesus ministry to generate the original events and memories on which the gospels were based – followed by a few decades of telling and retelling the stories before they were recorded in the form we now read in today’s Bible.  We are fortunate that virtually all the material selected appears sufficiently fresh and vivid enough to stand the test of time.

John for example, has picked up on a number of metaphors Jesus is understood (at least by tradition) to have used. Each one of these is related to an aspect of human experience. Listen to a few.   I am the true vine, I am the way, the truth and the life, I am the light ..and so on. Today’s gospel passage picks up that striking image of Jesus as the true vine. I am assuming you have notice that Jesus is addressing this to his disciples, those who had already chosen to follow him. Accordingly, as we consider what he is saying, we might wonder if John chose to record such words for those in some future wider Church, in part to encourage them to follow Jesus’ teaching.

The grapevine was an image well known to the Jews of the time. The historian Josephus (who is the main non-Christian historian who provides independent incidental evidence for Jesus) describes the Temple in Jerusalem as having golden decorations on its entrance archways with human sized depictions of grape clusters on a grape vine. Earlier, the scriptures referred to the Jews as God’s vine-stock damaged by captivity in Babylon and brought to Israel. The prophets also captured this image and Isaiah, Hosea, Ezekiel and the Psalmists all used the same metaphors of the Jews as part of the vine and of God as the Vine dresser.

In John that image is expanded and the new branches on the vine are taken to mean the Gentiles who are now also part of the picture.  For what it is worth my guess is that passage about the non-fruiting branches being destroyed may even have been partly John’s addition because he was writing at a time between 85 and 115 CE when the Temple had already been destroyed and the Jews driven from Jerusalem.

Certainly, with the wisdom of hindsight, some of the reported comments about the Jews are problematic in that Jesus and the disciples were Jews yet such passages were later used as an excuse for prejudice against the Jews.

Even if Jesus described himself as the true vine, it appears intended as a metaphor. Yet metaphors can sometimes remind us of truth that we may prefer to overlook. For example, it may seem a minor point but a vine that is grown for fruit production is only cultivated for that one reason. If it does not produce the fruit, it has no other purpose. Think what that means for our Church today.   Think of all those who believe that the purpose of Church is getting together for worship.   I suspect this would be to miss Jesus’ point. It may even be worth reflecting on how those in the community might view the “fruit” being produced. A grocery or fast-food shop has a discernible purpose for a community. If our local Church were to disappear tomorrow it is worth asking why it would be missed. What good fruit is produced there?

The chosen metaphor of Jesus as the true vine is both helpful and thought provoking. It is true that any metaphor can be subject to unwise interpretation, but if nothing else, using a true vine is good gardening practice. At worst, the lazy naive gardener might plant fruit trees and grape vines by the process best known as spitting the pips. That grape you have just tasted might well be the best you have encountered, but as any gardener would tell you, the chances of taking the seed from that grape and getting it to produce the same version of grape with the same characteristics is almost impossibly small.

The standard practice is to select the good fruiting vine with great care and having identified the one required, take cuttings and graft them onto separate root stock. Simply being in the same vicinity as the well grafted stock won’t do it. Joining a congregation where there are some warm and active Christians doesn’t mean that all who are associated with that congregation will have those same characteristics. Each individual source of fruit must be considered separately.

If we look back over the last two thousand years, all too often it has not always been Jesus’ teaching with his central principles of compassion forgiveness, peace, justice and acceptance which have always been at centre of the expression of Church, but rather sometimes it is as if there is a graft to power, position, local custom, exclusivity and religiosity. The clue – as with viticulture – is to see what fruit has been produced.

Families are linked automatically by relationships put in place by happen-chance of birth. You may not always like your cousin or brother or aunt but in terms of law there is a tie which is there as of right by birth. This is not so with a faith. In the case of the vine of Christianity we are not linked to the family tree as of right, because the sap of life for those attached to Christ is in effect the flow of love and compassion. Nor for that matter, are we linked to the vine by self- labels like being born again, like being evangelical, or liberal or conservative. The fruits of faith are seen in our attitudes to one another rather than in our statements of faith.

If the flow is interrupted, the relationship becomes suspect and, if you like, the fruit will probably not be acceptable.

If the branch is not productive or if it begins to die, horticultural practice suggests it should be excised. Here it is not clear if Jesus was talking about the person or the characteristics of a person or even if his words should apply to whole communities. Most of us will have human failings as well as human gifts. Our faith communities are unlikely to be exempt. In this observation Jesus is saying no more than we know to be true. Not all parts of the vine produce good fruit – and not all dimensions of human behaviour are acceptable.

What is more debatable, and which even seems at odds with other things Jesus said, is his reported statements about destruction and burning of the parts which have been cut. The notion that the humans themselves might be cut off, rejected and burned does not fit in with other parts of Jesus actions and teachings. In other places for example, he accepted sinners and those who had no right to be accepted. However, since he seems to acknowledge that even among the faithful we should expect there will be those who will have attitudes and behaviour which are contrary to the principles he taught, it follows that such behaviour and attitudes should be corrected.

In reality, identification of weakness is not automatically followed by instant improvement. The sad truth is that many succumb to a host of addictions and undesirable thinking and behaviour patterns. Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous for all their successes can also identify many failures. It is all very well to agree in principle to love enemies, to love the poor and fight for the disadvantaged – but in practice it is difficult to do alone. Perhaps we get a hint of how to at least start becoming a productive part of the vine in Jesus’ words of encouragement.

“I am the vine, you are the branches. If you abide in me and I in you, you bear much fruit. But apart from me you can do nothing.”

As with Paul’s words of encouragement in first Corinthians 13, the phrase “abide in me” is an instruction to engage in a series of deliberate acts rather than a feeling. Building Christian community may start with the identification of the theory of Christ’s teaching but as long as it stays with reading and hearing about Jesus and his interaction with those who would follow, it will remain unrealized.

Jesus talks of those areas of the vine not producing fruit. This calls for honesty – and not, as many seem to think, only honesty about the lack of applied Christianity in others. The fruit of the Gospel in our lives should be apparent to strangers, to friends and neighbours and not least, to ourselves.

Actually what is required is that we need to follow Jesus’ example of caring about those who are not necessarily deserving of our care. We need to be peacemakers – not just in theory or expressing peaceful sentiments in pulpit prayers– but in defusing actual disputes.  We need to be identifying and meeting injustice, and above all we need to be serving others. In short, we need to be abiding in Christ in a way that makes some difference to the life we live outside the artificial atmosphere of the Church building.

When it comes to identifying the useless parts of the vine, knowing that others are likely to have weaknesses may be a truth – but Jesus’ notion that the vine can have weaker parts should remind us that we too may have weaknesses and maybe what is required is not so much our judgment of others, as helping one another overcome our weaknesses. Jesus reminds us that we must be ruthless in dealing with weaknesses that get in the way of producing fruit. One more thing! Nowhere, does he say, “only in other people!”

Owning a Bible or at even listening to it in Church could only ever be beginning of faith. If the metaphors used by Jesus are going to make a difference in our everyday lives, surely that is up to what we then do with the teaching. Furthermore, we have to decide if our responsibilities finish at the Church door. If there was good news in Easter, how for example, should we share good news for the everyday life we (and others around us) live? Surely it is not just in words.  The true vine produces the fruit. May others find in us the evidence of that “true vine”.

LECTIONARY SERMON FOR Easter 4 (21 April 2924) THE GOOD SHEPHERD SUNDAY: John 10 11-18

The notion of Jesus the good Shepherd, caring for the least of his flock, has long been standard teaching for Christians down through the centuries.

Even before New Testament time scriptures already had come back time and time again to the image of the shepherd and the sheep.

The shepherd was also a common image used for a number of key figures in the Middle East and particularly in Egypt and Israel. Think here of the two well-known examples of David and Moses who started as shepherds. Some commentators have even suggested that the Jewish notion of the ideal king, David, being once a shepherd could easily be the creation of legend; it fits so well; yet perhaps it is just a ‘legendary’ fact. When I was reading up on this, I also noticed that some identified as shepherds turned out to be inadequate. For example, Ezekiel in Chapter 34 of his book complains about the ‘shepherds of Israel’, their failure to care for the sheep (Ezekiel 34).

If we want to accept the challenge of caring for one another in the Biblical notion of shepherd types, it might even be worth reminding ourselves that if great leaders sometimes get things wrong,  no matter what our beliefs are in this day and age we need to proceed with caution.

Perhaps you are already aware of what turned out to be another catch with the good shepherd image. I am not sure why it happened, but in the popular mind the Biblical stories of the shepherd tending for his flock appear somehow to have morphed into that sort of cuddly European looking picture of Jesus presented a good number of us back when we were Sunday school pupils.   Here John in today’s reading is also reminding us that Jesus stepped up to give his own his life for others and …by implication…one who expects his disciples to do the same on behalf of those who they call to follow. 

In his selection of this section of Jesus’ teaching, John here is clearly drawn to the Jesus image of being the good shepherd.  For us now living in a very different community from Palestine way back then, I want to suggest that all too often this image has two modern issues compromising its real meaning.  The first is what folk in Jesus’ time would have thought of as shepherds is rather different to our current understanding. Do you think even today, those who qualified as the equivalent of our good shepherds…. those with their farm bikes, highly trained dogs and perhaps even drones to help check on their typical securely fenced flock, is what many in our time might think this represents twenty-first century …. Do you think we have still come to underplay the requirements for the real-life shepherd? 

The second implied question is rather more thought provoking.   Without the physical presence of Jesus in the here and now: how might the shepherd be made relevant to today’s followers of Jesus?   

The problems facing the modern shepherd are certainly not the problems of Jesus’ time.

As an aside, a few weeks back on holiday to the Chatham Islands, my wife and I glimpsed some of the realities for the shepherd.    We bounced along in the hired Ute across a huge paddock through a flock of mainly unshorn sheep until we reached a creek that had to be negotiated on foot.    At that point we encountered a large sheep in considerable distress struggling in vain to free itself from a deep muddy bog.     Our guide, a strong agile young man, said “leave this to me”.   He picked his way through the bog, and then with great difficulty because the sheep was clearly very heavy, he at last succeeded in dragging the sheep up from the mud.   He then reoriented the sheep to face a drier track up the hill and sent it on its way.    Far from expressing gratitude, the sheep promptly turned itself around and waded straight back into the mud.

Mind you, most sheep are not entirely stupid even if they can’t see too well.   On the other hand, most have the inbuilt ability to be good followers.

The sheep themselves seem to prefer to follow their leader whether it be another sheep and if not, some person they recognize as their usual leader. Back in Jesus’ day it was said by contemporary historians of the day that at the end of each day when different shepherds gathered to talk to one another that the sheep would cluster together in a flock.  At night their carers, to protect them from ever-present dangers, would lead them mixed up together into hold pens usually made from stones or branches where they might be more easily guarded.   There they would stay until the next morning when they were due to go their separate ways.    At that point the shepherds would call out, and the sheep whose vision is notoriously bad would at least listen for the voice of their own shepherd, then upon recognizing their separate voices, the sheep would wander across, each to their own shepherd.

I guess it is not too hard to realize that the gospel writer John wants us to know that ultimately, Jesus is the one we need to follow.     But there is an awkward reality.   Although Jesus was said by the gospel writers to appear in unexpected ways to a variety of disciples after the crucifixion, don’t forget the Bible presents us with the image he was then lifted to heaven.       Assuming, that in least some sense, that is true …very well then, today, who do the potential followers like you and me turn to?

I wonder in part if the answer is simply this?

Some folk, at least amongst most Christian groups I have encountered, truly appear to me to embody the sort of teaching that Jesus said was important.  It seems to me those who show acceptance both of neighbours and of newcomers show his teaching still matters.  Do you agree that if Jesus is no longer with us a person perhaps those who wish to follow his teaching might have to step up and offer an active role in ensuring his message is still relevant.

 I have always admired those who care for neighbours (even those of the sort most are not normally drawn to).  It isn’t too hard to recognize those who truly care.   You probably all know the sort of people who seem to make time for those who have problems.  Those are the same way who go the extra mile.  So here is the question I want to leave you with.  Even if we know we are far from thinking of ourselves might that one day be us might  that at least be a sensible next step?    Without the physical presence of Jesus to redirect us, regardless of how we feel about odd religions, there are few groups of today’s followers of the Christian message who wouldn’t include at least some who have understood and started to live Jesus’ central teaching.   Will that be the next step in our individual journeys?

CONTRIBUTED SERMON FOR EASTER 3b ‘Finding the modern words for it!’

This week the sermon was borrowed and slightly abridged (with acknowledgement) from a different Peddie, my sister the Rev Dr Barbara Peddie (at that time on secondment to the Presbyterian Church of St Ninians in Christchurch) 

(Thoughts on Acts 3: 12-19 and Luke 24: 36b-48)

We’re still in the season of Easter – the season of celebration. And we’re also in the season of autumn and endings. Later this month on ANZAC Day, much of this nation will remember the tragedies of war and celebrate the courage and commitment of many. Part of that remembering will include honouring those of our own church families who were courageous in their commitment to pacifism. Yes, Easter is the church’s season of celebration, but, just like those early disciples, we celebrate in our own context, with our own reminders of sorrow and hardship. Do you think those early followers never woke up in the mornings and said: ‘if only we could go and have breakfast with our friend on the shores of the lake.’? Do you think they had ceased to mourn despite their growing confidence in the good news of the gospel?  

We read the stories about the first disciples announcing the good news, and we gradually come aware that we’re challenged to be about that same business of announcing and living the good news of the resurrection. Maybe it does when we come together on a Sunday morning. But why do we find it so hard to do beyond these doors? 

We’re not even very good at celebrating Easter. We make much more of Christmas, that unashamedly pagan festival. We ‘do’ Christmas thoroughly, but Easter is another story. After all, we can’t have Easter without Good Friday, and there’s no getting around the realities of death and grief. We can get through Christmas without thinking of the realities of pregnancy and poverty and displacement, but we can’t get round the realities of death.

Our very secular society doesn’t make Easter any easier. Easter, like Christmas means ‘holiday’ –from work and school. It means ‘food’ – Easter buns dripping with butter and rather too much chocolate. Unlike some other denominations, we don’t hold all-night vigils. And we don’t even, all of us, feel that Easter and Christmas are the two great occasions in the year when we must be at church. Recently one of our Korean presbyters said to me: ‘Kiwis are so strange. I have 180 people on the parish roll, and there were only 21 at Church on Christmas morning’. I wonder how many he had on Easter Sunday?  So – what is it about our Westernised society that makes celebrating resurrection so very challenging?

Some of it is, I think, because we live in a highly technological society. We carry with us the weight of the scientific discoveries that have changed our world view so greatly.  It takes some very strange contortions of thinking to think of a world that is physically layered, with heaven, and God, out there somewhere, ‘beyond the deep blue sky’ – as one of my Sunday School choruses had it. We know about the galaxies, and the long history of the very rocks under our feet – and we know rather a lot about the mortality of our own bodies! It’s as if we know another story of creation, and we struggle with the stories of the resurrected Christ. Between us and the gospel writers lie 2000 years of mortality. Our dead do not return.

Perhaps this isn’t the way to read and experience the Easter stories. If we try to force the two worlds – that of the biblical narratives and that of our current knowledge into the same mould, we’re bound to come to grief. Somehow, we have to find ways to see the truths behind the stories in our sacred books, starting to realise they won’t be literal truths.

Those long-ago disciples weren’t primitive people. They may have been unsophisticated and without status in their own culture, but that culture was highly organized and highly intelligent. There’s nothing primitive about the Hebrew scriptures! We haven’t really made so very much progress in thinking since those days.

I don’t find it disconcerting that the evangelists gave varying accounts of the resurrection. You need a vocabulary to be able to share discoveries. Let me tell you a story about some children in Christchurch. There’s a Decile 1A primary school about 1 km from Brighton Beach. The children at that school come from a suburb with the lowest annual household income for our city, and they are so deprived of experience outside their small world, that the first thing the school has to do with new entrants is to extend their range of experience. Their principal took a group of new entrants to the beach. They literally did not have a word for sand. They had never seen it, never been to the beach, never paddled or picked up shells and seaweed. They had no words to describe their day. You need a vocabulary to be able to take an experience into yourself and make it part of your own life story.

It’s important to tell the stories. But – it’s also important to let the stories speak to us of the truth behind the words. Like a Native American storyteller who always prefaces his stories with the words: ‘I don’t know if this happened – but it’s a true story’, we can say of the resurrection narratives: ‘I don’t know if it happened like this, but it’s a true story.’

Something new happened at Easter, and the evangelists – and the disciples struggled to find the words for it. Apart from Mark, who simply picked up on the fact of the empty tomb and the women running from it in terror and amazement. (The longer ending of Mark’s gospel seems to be a précis of the stories from the other three Gospels!) When you think of it, terror and amazement would be the natural reaction. In the other accounts, there’s a thread running through several of the narratives, where Jesus’ friends don’t recognize him. Mary in the garden had to hear her name spoken: the two sad people trudging back to Emmaus held a long conversation with someone they thought was a stranger until he picked up a loaf of bread at their table and broke it. The friends out fishing talked with a stranger on the beach until he said and did something that brought earlier experiences to life again. It’s as if all of them were too preoccupied with their own grief and too anxious about their own future to be able to think of any other possibility or even to look out beyond themselves.

The disciples and the others gathered in Jerusalem after that Friday disaster had to sort out fact from fiction. What happened? Who can we believe? What comes next? (The same questions that we ask today?) They were immersed in chaos and confusion – fear for themselves – wondering who would be next to go, probably doubt about whether they had been taking the wrong path when they followed the man from Galilee, grief for a dead friend, confusion, suspicion, and the nagging question of what to do now. Their leader was dead and his body was missing. And, Luke says, in the midst of all this, Jesus showed up. What would you do?

It’s not surprising that they needed to be reassured.  ‘Peace be with you’, Jesus said. Calm down, take it quietly, take a deep breath and concentrate. And put your fear to one side. And, Luke says, Jesus asks, in effect, ‘What’s for dinner?’ an overpoweringly ordinary question. It’s as if Luke is emphasizing the reality of the experience of the risen Christ. ‘wake up and smell the coffee’ as some say today. Get with it. We have no way of knowing what happened on a particular day in a particular city to a particular group of people. What we do know, is that whatever they experienced, shattered their mood of despair and sent them out into the streets and marketplaces to proclaim God’s new, here and now, kingdom.

We heard some of that in the reading from Acts. We need to put it into context – as Luke clearly expects us to do. In Acts 2, we have the event of Pentecost, which sent the disciples out filled with holy fire. In the opening scene of Acts 3 Peter and John heal a crippled beggar outside the temple’s Beautiful Gate. Naturally that brought the curious crowds around, and Peter got launched into his second sermon.  This is the same Peter who, only a few days before had denied any knowledge of the man Jesus. In this sermon, Peter repeatedly uses the same Greek word for ‘rejected’ that he had used for that denial.

It’s quite a sermon that this supposedly uneducated fisherman delivers. We need to remember that this is Peter the Jew speaking to fellow Jews about Jesus, who was also a Jew. He is speaking a few days after a major Jewish festival to a Jewish crowd gathered in Solomon’s portico, along the east wall of the temple complex. Try to imagine yourselves as Jews listening to Peter. He’s one of you, and he’s arguing from your own scripture and tradition about one of your own about what it means truly to be Jewish – to be the true people of God. And then try to imagine how you would react.

Luke goes on to say that thousands believed. It was a crowd that had clamoured for Jesus to be crucified, and it was a crowd that now embraced the new belief in the power of faith in the name of the Messiah, God’s Holy One. Luke says ‘thousands believed.’ Luke is an adroit storyteller. It wasn’t the private refusal of Messiah’s gifts that got Jesus killed, but the public rejection of him before Pilate. Peter took the communal life seriously. As the church has always done, even when she gets it wrong. We belong to a community of faith, we don’t hug private beliefs to ourselves.

The challenge to us, in both the gospel account and in the story from Acts, is to take resurrection seriously – to take the challenge of new life seriously. At Easter, God proclaimed a new thing. The old patterns of life and death were broken. It’s like what happens when you turn a kaleidoscope. All the patterns change. After the Easter event, everything in life needed to be reviewed. If God has shattered the bonds of death, then all dying, no matter how tragic and no matter what the cause, is no longer the final word. It’s a totally new approach to the whole of life. And we humans instinctively don’t like totally new approaches to the whole of life. It’s frightening.

We often affirm that God never gives up on God’s people, and God will bring them home rejoicing. But – we would prefer that homecoming to be to something comfortable and familiar and comprehensible. Not to something that completely turns the familiar on its head.

We humans have always tried to limit God – to keep God under control. God should operate within the bounds we have set, and fit into our rituals, and be controlled by rules and regulations and religious practices and Parish Councils and Boards of Managers and Conference and Assembly. God should be under the control of human systems that say: ‘Do this and God will be pleased with you. Otherwise – look out!’

But the Resurrection changed that. God is free – free from religious systems, free to meet us on God’s terms. Jesus said: ‘The wind blows wherever it wishes; you hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going. It is like that with everyone who is born of the Spirit.’ When we look at the empty tomb, our deeper instinct tells us – even if we kick against the knowing – that any attempts we make to control God through religion are doomed. Our cherished traditions aren’t the last word. God has the last word. The last laugh, if you like. Christ is risen: God is free.

God is on the loose, and God is here and now. The Resurrection is God’s now. Even more than the Incarnation, it’s God with us in an entirely new way. There’s something in the Resurrection story that speaks of a death that isn’t accidental, but required a conscious decision to end what went before, and open the way to transformation. And we have to make that sort of decision – to end what went before, and commit ourselves to a new beginning.

It’s not easy. What communal sins do congregations hold on to, preferring the familiar round of guilt and relapse to the strenuous exercise of new life? How do we respond to challenges to the faith we grew up with? Do we turn our backs, even when the challenges come from God’s own messengers? Are we so afraid of getting things wrong that we ignore any messenger whose name is not in the Bible?

Or maybe some of us are so unfamiliar with the words of the old prophets that we’re not capable of recognizing God’s new prophets. And I’m fairly sure that in any congregation there will be some who like the church so well the way it is, that any newcomers will be seen as threats to the established family of faith. How would Peter’s sermon work on us today?

It’s never easy. But – we live and move in the knowledge that God moves with us. That love is stronger than hate, and that from the destruction of death, new life rises. That is God’s promise to us.

We are called to walk from the darkened hill

to the light-filled empty tomb.

We come seeking surprise and wonder

in the dawning light of Easter Day.

Let us go out with the risen Christ,

and take up the work of the kingdom.

Bless the Lord, O my soul. And bless God’s holy name. And may God bless each one of us and teach us to bless each other. Amen.

(As always, comments and discussion will be welcome.)

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This entry was posted in Guest Articles, Progressive Sermons, Sermons and tagged ANZAC, different evangelists, Easter versus Christmas, stories in context. Bookmark the permalink. Edit

Lectionary Sermon for Easter 2b (7 April 2024) on John 20:19-31

IN DEFENCE OF DOUBTING THOMAS

While it is true that the disciple Thomas has become famous for his initial hesitation to accept that Jesus had somehow been resurrected, it is unfortunate that he goes down in many Christian histories first and foremost as “doubting Thomas”. 

Yes, it is true we can see why gospel writer John is anxious to stress that the now scattered followers of Jesus should set their personal doubts aside.  Remember John is writing well after the Thomas encounter at the time when Jesus was no longer present in the flesh.   We should therefore understand that John the gospel writer, would have thought it necessary to encourage future followers of this new faith we would now call Christianity to accept reality in the resurrection regardless of the lack of their own experience of meeting Jesus in person.     John’s comment that Jesus himself had told Thomas that those who believed without that personal meeting would be especially blessed, would no doubt help future followers to set aside at least some of their doubts.

Rather too many of those hawking their competing versions of Christianity seem reluctant to accept that any path other than their own might be worth considering.  Don’t forget that in Church history that along with those now regarded as true saints, those assuming God’s support for their version of faith have included those who have indulged in very unloving behaviours.   For those trying to understand why so many making the same claims of religious faith exhibit radically different conclusions and behaviour patterns perhaps we might at the very least start by checking that our thinking and behaviour fits the basic teaching of the one we seek to follow.   Given that we can never be certain of the motivation what the representative of faith is thinking, we can at least make a reasonable judgment of their claims based on their actions, or if you like the fruits of their belief, and use this as a guide.

However, continuing to portray Thomas as “the doubter” is neither true to what the gospels claim in other places, nor true to Thomas’ apparent subsequent history.    In any event I would have thought there is still a place for an initial sceptical approach to unusual religious claims.   I am guessing most of us have noted some of the recent strange variety of expressions of Christianity. I suspect we should treat the typical insistence that sect followers should accept some of the more bizarre claims of the leaders’ sects without question with caution.   I would go further and say that perhaps a healthy initial scepticism for more extreme claims of self-appointed leaders might even be encouraged.

Now to return to Thomas….  There, are several features of Thomas that should at least encourage us to see his strengths as well as his weaknesses.   

Perhaps it is worth reminding ourselves that, like most of the disciples, we only find fragmentary mentions of Thomas in the New Testament.  The first time we encounter Thomas in action is as a risk taker.  Check out the Gospel of John Chapter 11 where Jesus decides it is time to return to Judea, despite his earlier encounter when the Judeans had taken up stones to deal with his unwelcome challenge.    The other disciples appear to be trying to dissuade Jesus from risking such a danger whereas Thomas supported Jesus despite the risk.

Secondly, we need to notice from subsequent contemporary  history that although Thomas may have been reluctant to believe Jesus had returned after his crucifixion, once he had encountered Jesus for himself, he was not simply won over to a firmer belief.    He was won over to a life of innovative discipleship.

For example, Thomas was one of a small group of followers who decided to write their own version of a Gospel.  While it is true Thomas didn’t have his gospel eventually chosen for the final choice of New Testament books, modern Bible scholars tell us we can see evidence that Mark borrowed some of Thomas’s writings and even added a bit to his record of what Thomas records Jesus saying.  And don’t forget Thomas also picked up on some things from Jesus that were quite different from those selected by John.

(Perhaps it is a step too far to agree with some scholars’ suggestion that John appeared to stress Thomas’s doubting as a deficiency to imply that John’s was the more reliable gospel).

In reality it is not so much what a person says, but what they are in thoughts and actions that are the real evidence of their faith.  Remember that this same so-called doubting Thomas was now sufficiently confident in his faith to go on to start the Church in South India where he was eventually martyred.

What would convince you about someone’s true faith?

It may even be that evidence of true Christian faith may be measured in how the follower’s demonstrated actions measure against Jesus’ teaching.   In some instances it is not so much claimed beliefs but actions which tell what really matters for an aspiring Christian… and not just for others – but for ourselves.

For me it is not the size and splendour of the latest great new Church, nor the ostentatious wealth of the Church leaders in their opulent mansions with their fancy cars and private jets and helicopters.  What speaks loudest to me is when I encounter those who appear to be genuine caring followers of Jesus’ teachings.  

In the course of daily life in our community, from time to time I encounter those who are the quiet benefactors. One of my granddaughters is currently completing her medical qualifications and her intended overseas posting in a Malawi hospital includes organising a health project in some Malawi schools.   She raised the funding for this project in two months through the generosity of a few individuals and I believe, three Rotary clubs in Auckland.    I am uncertain how many of these would call themselves Christian yet funding those who need help must surely be a Christian action.  We will all have met similar servants of the gospel.    They may not be famous Christian thinkers, and nor can we be sure that their theology would qualify them at theological college as having doubt-free correct thinking.    Kindness somehow seems to bring authenticity to their faith.

Reflect for a moment on the hugely popular Bible thumping television evangelists in the United States of America.    While it is undoubtedly true that they have enormous numbers of followers and there is plenty of evidence that their extended audience are keen to give as requested it is not so much the apparent doubts as their apparent evidential symbols of private jets and luxury cars that we should, and indeed must, ask the question about how this fits with Jesus’ message of humility, of servant-hood and showing love to the least of our brethren.

Harry Williams in his book The True Wilderness is quoted as saying: “I resolved that I would not preach about any aspect of Christian belief unless it had become part of my own lifeblood. For I realized that the Christian truth I tried to proclaim would speak to those who listened only to the degree to which it was an expression of my own identity.”

This to me speaks of the same integrity that Thomas lived. Not for Thomas a credulous acceptance of others’ claims without first checking the claims out for himself. But more importantly, not for him either the life of vacuous words once he was sufficiently convinced. Thomas showed that beliefs are to be lived.

The early Christians appear to have understood the realities of how faith is meant to impact on life. They had a special word for it. They called it “pistis”. Pistis is not properly exactly translated as meaning faith. Rather it is more like: trusting, abandoning or even venturing. To have Pistis in Christ didn’t merely mean that Christ was there in some mysterious way. Rather it meant the slender hope that the reality Jesus represented might also have value and truth for the ones who trusted him enough to follow.

For Christians, the arguments about whether-or-not we might think God exists have little meaning away from what Jesus showed this God to mean. Because these days our first-hand experience of witness comes via other people it is worth remembering that from the days of the early Church obtaining inspiration is not only based on what can be learned from studying Christ, but also via those in each generation who have been prepared to follow Jesus. And yes, what gives the inspiration is the attraction of lives lived with integrity.

No doubt the disciples each took a different path to their eventual pistis. And in an age where there is much of value in different forms of Christianity as well as much to generate caution, it might even be that we have need of the Thomases of our day to insist that we not be led astray by transparent fraud as well as needing those prepared to trust and follow without question or evidence. Yet no matter the path, and no matter the initial degree of doubt, the real test of lives lived in the spirit is whether or not we are truthful both to ourselves and others.

Thomas, we read, is eventually persuaded by the evidence of his eyes, yet we must remember that for Thomas this was a persuasion not so much to a creed as to an awakened life. Just as Thomas was able by his encounter to discover a strength within to witness and lead in an eventual journey of adventure, our individual doubts need not stop us from the journey.

It is true that there is a sophisticated form of cynicism that claims that Christianity is merely a subjective theory to fill psychological needs. What ultimately confounds that theory is encountering the transformed lives. No mere theory can ultimately stand against an individual prepared to work wholeheartedly for his or her part in the transformation of the world. Thomas who doubted grew into someone who could make a difference.

If that can happen for doubting Thomas, perhaps it might happen for you or me.

Easter Sunday, RISEN IN WHAT SENSE? A reaction to John 20 1-18

I wonder how many preachers would be prepared to read Peter Rollin’s monologue at their Easter day service.   It started….

“Without equivocation or hesitation, I fully and completely admit that I deny the resurrection of Christ. This is something that anyone who knows me could tell you, and I am not afraid to say it publicly, no matter what some people may think.”

Then a dramatic pause……. and continued…

“I deny the resurrection of Christ every time I do not serve at the feet of the oppressed, each day that I turn my back on the poor; I deny the resurrection of Christ when I close my ears to the cries of the downtrodden and lend my support to an unjust and corrupt system. However, there are moments when I affirm that resurrection, few and far between as they are. I affirm it when I stand up for those who are forced to live on their knees, when I speak for those who have had their tongues torn out, when I cry for those who have no more tears left to shed”.

So then… Jesus:   Risen in what Sense?

Surely one sense of true growth of the mature Christian is when they get to the point where they start to trust their own thinking and experience enough to live their response.   Mike Riddell once reminded his readers that at the very least the resurrection should be more than something viewed as a magic trick to be applauded from the sidelines.

In some ways it should never really have been a question of how believable or acceptable the resurrection story is to a genuine Christian. The more interesting question is to why Church members are not uniformly transformed by their claimed knowledge of the resurrection. If we look at typical behaviour of Christians today, we should at least acknowledge that by their actions they show they are uncertain as to what it all means. Celebrating in joyful worship we may well be on Easter Sunday but tomorrow is it back to total normality and on to the Easter sales.

Although most Christians are happy to respond to the Easter Greeting – “Christ is risen!” with “He is risen indeed!”, all is by no means clear.

Today I wish to face what some critics say as squarely and as honestly as possible. You should be assured at the outset that although I am aware of these problems, I personally believe there is needs to be very important truth in the “resurrection” that resonates with our experience. This is one I would hope gives a good basis for a life based on faith. Don’t forget any faith worth having it should be sufficiently robust to survive honest doubts.

It is fine to start simply with the gospel accounts, reading each one separately and using the Church three-year cycle of the lectionary almost as an excuse to avoid seeing how the accounts stack up against one another. But as our faith matures, there is also a case for comparing the accounts, allowing ourselves to become open to relevant knowledge from other sources.

So to work….
We start with an observation from Justice Haim Cohn, a prominent contemporary Jewish scholar who draws our attention to some obvious problems in accepting the veracity of the account of Jesus’ evening trial in the house of the High Priest. Justice Cohn claims that the traditional story of Jesus’ trial is inconsistent with custom. First according to Jewish law and custom, the Sanhedrin were not allowed to exercise jurisdiction in the High Priest’s house or for that matter anywhere outside the Courthouse and Temple precinct. No session of the criminal court was permissible after nightfall. Passover or Pesach would not have provided the setting since no criminal trial was permissible on a feast day or the eve of a feast day. In view of the formalistic and rigorous attitude to the law, for which the Pharisees were well known, a conviction must be proceeded by two truthful and reliable witnesses and in fact the charge of blasphemy was inapplicable since it was closely defined as pronouncing the ineffable name of God, the tetragrammaton, which under Jewish law might only be pronounced once a year on the Day of Atonement – and then only by the High Priest in the Kodesh Kodashim, the innermost sanctuary of the Temple.

Next, we look more closely at how the gospel accounts stack up against each other. The gospel accounts are fine if read separately – but downright confusing when assembled. The difficulties are now well known and are standard teaching in many theological training institutions. Both  by tradition and the three-year church lectionary cycle the stories are not usually read on the same day in Church. Accordingly, the contradictions are less well known by typical church members apart from the more serious Bible scholars among them. For example, there are different reportedly eye-witness accounts with different Jesus’ last words on the cross. There are different versions of what was encountered at the empty tomb and who the witnesses met there. Right from the outset the gospel writers seem to have struggled to come up with a consistent and clear account of the empty tomb.

Let’s be honest, the gospels lacked the precision and accuracy now expected of national news reporters and now appear closer today with what we might more commonly associate with the tabloids. Matthew, for example has many graves opening and dead people walking around. Matthew 27 verses 52 and 53 says “There was an earthquake, the rocks split and the graves opened, and many of God’s people rose from sleep , and coming out of their graves after his resurrection, they entered the Holy City where many saw them”. Many resurrected? Really?

Strangely the other gospel writers appeared to have missed this earth-shaking scene altogether and contemporary historians seem oblivious to that extraordinary newsworthy event. Mark as the writer most contemporary with the events, far from supporting Matthew’s account, attempted to close off his account before the resurrection evidence was even mentioned. The last twelve verses of Mark are widely believed by scholars to have been added much later by other authors to bring Mark’s gospel into line with the resurrection details mentioned in the other gospels. The earliest complete manuscripts of Mark’s gospel were missing these verses and the style of writing including letter formation suggests that the missing verses were added at least two hundred years after the original gospel was first composed.

Then we get to the gospel detail.  At the very least there are difference in the record.

For example: Jesus’ last words were?
Matt.27:46,50: “And about the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, eli, lama sabachthani?” that is to say, “My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?” …Jesus, when he cried again with a loud voice, yielded up the ghost.”

Or was it: Luke 23:46: “And when Jesus had cried with a loud voice, he said, “Father, unto thy hands I commend my spirit:” and having said thus, he gave up the ghost.”

Or even John’s version, John 19:30: “When Jesus therefore had received the vinegar, he said, “It is finished:” and he bowed his head and gave up the ghost.”

Well, who did Jesus’ followers actually see at the sepulchre?
Mark 16:5 And entering into the sepulchre, they saw a young man sitting on the right side, clothed in a long white garment; and they were affrighted.
Luke 24:4 And it came to pass, as they were much perplexed thereabout, behold, two men stood by them in shining garments:

John 20:12 … seeth two angels in white sitting, the one at the head, and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.

Next the accounts of the events following the resurrection.

According to Matthew, Mark, and Luke, Mary Magdalene was among the group of women who were told by angels at the empty tomb that Jesus had risen “even as he said,” and Luke went as far as to say that when the women heard this, “they remembered his words” (24:9). Such statements as these can be put together with Matthew’s claim that the women encountered Jesus, even held him, and worshipped him as they were running from the tomb to give the news to the disciples. Matt 28:9 This presumably indicates the women were already convinced that Jesus has risen from the dead when they left the tomb. Yet when Mary actually meets Jesus she not only doesn’t recognize him, she tells him that his body is missing from the tomb and she doesn’t know where it has been put.

It is true that some of the minor differences in the accounts eg Was it angels or men in the tomb? How many in the tomb? Who was it who encountered Jesus afterwards? reminds us of the typical versions of reporters struggling to remember what they believed they had been told well after the event, but at the very least it would be dishonest to say there was no room for doubt.

Now for the bit requiring clear thought. I would claim that despite the problems there was something very significant about the resurrection. This to my way of thinking was no matter how confusing the accounts now seem in retrospect, something was happening soon after Jesus’ crucifixion to transform some who had been close to Jesus from being frightened, highly dependent frail humans, into disciples prepared to strike out on their own, passing on Jesus’ teaching and being sufficiently inspirational to draw others to his cause. At the very least, resurrection must have happened for them in some way even if it should be also allowed in a metaphorical sense.

Biologically, I have no idea what “resurrection” literally meant. Was Jesus properly dead when taken down off the cross? Was the story exaggerated through the next few decades? Truthfully, although I know what I would like to believe – I have no way of proving what I hope to be true. Yet what is absolutely beyond question is that death did not finish Jesus and his message. What is also true is that some – notice I say some – not all – were brought to a new dimension of life in the process.

You might well focus on the state of Jesus from crucifixion to resurrection and claim it is important to believe the detail. For what it is worth I happen to think it is far more important to offer the sort of environment to allow Jesus to take root in our life. Simply stopping and celebrating the detail of that first resurrection is not sufficient for me because knowing about it wouldn’t necessarily change me. My experience suggests that some who have passed exams in that sort of detail do not always seem to be allowing what Jesus stood for to take root in their lives.

Should we seek Jesus in the empty tomb?  Assuming he was resurrected if he is not perceived amongst the living – and that includes among people like us – then why would resurrection matter? In other words, simply hearing about it won’t necessarily make a difference.

Metaphorically speaking, when I allow the resurrection to come alive for me I should be able to show love for my fellows.  How is it for you?

Lectionary Sermon for Good Friday, Year B (selected verses from John 18:1- 19:42)

Good Friday attracts us to safe familiar paths. Each year, there we find the call to what risks being an in-group of religious spectators and churchgoers to rehearse once more the familiar sufferings endured by Jesus.   And yes, we seem encouraged, listening again to the reminder that in some way these sufferings were for our sins, and to hear those familiar words : “Jesus died that we might be saved.”

Yet I wonder if the story has become too familiar and even too remote to matter in the way we currently live and order our lives. It’s not that the standard formula, that Jesus died for our sins that we might be saved, is intentionally shallow or dishonest. However, today’s attitudes mean we should be cautious before rushing too quickly to the familiar religious phrases without first checking we have grasped their relevance and found meaning there for lives now set in a very different world.

It is true that Jesus is the centrepiece of the Good Friday story.  But there are puzzles. For one thing he acts almost as if his suffering is inevitable. According to the gospel accounts, although he makes it abundantly clear he would like to avoid the cross, Jesus certainly makes no attempt to run from his impending fate.

Nor does he make the attempt to find a safer path. The clearing of the Temple had been brave – but in terms of his personal safety, some would have called it foolhardy. He appeared to have permitted Judas to betray him to the authorities, and when the soldiers arrived to arrest him, he prevented Peter from defending him with his sword. He made no recorded plea for mercy.  Nor as far as we can tell, did he curse his enemies. Even on the cross he was concerned for others, praying for the forgiveness of his enemies, concerned for his mother – and even reportedly concerned for others crucified with him.

That he was able to do so in the knowledge he was abandoned by virtually all his followers – and that he could remain true to his cause when under extreme duress – gives his message of uncompromising love a genuine authenticity.

However, I want to stress Jesus’ suffering is only one aspect of Good Friday. Listing his sufferings and presenting the collection as the way he died as our deputy to save us from our sins may be good theatre but claiming this is guarantee that Jesus will deal to our problems is hardly encouraging us to step out to face whatever life sends our way.

There is even a question of whether we are facing reality if we talk about Jesus dying as the ultimate answer to all our problems. I have no issue with the hope that Jesus died so that the victims of suicide bombers, the child prostitutes from the hill tribes of South-East Asia, and the Palestinians in Gaza fleeing for their lives might have life …For Christians surely life for victims comes in part first through the potential actions of Jesus’ followers??? I guess my concern is that our focus on what happened to Jesus might take our attention from the suffering that continues to be.

Knowing what we have been saved from has always seems less interesting than the implied underlying question – not from what – but for what have we been saved?

The answer to that second question may be somewhat less demanding of our skill with theology than we think. Surely if we are saved, what we have been saved for should include continuing the mission established by the one we follow.

Time after time Jesus reminded his followers in a variety of ways that they were simply being called to do what is just, what is right and what is humane. The message about loving one’s neighbour as oneself was nothing more than a challenge to change priorities – to put others ahead of self. I see no reason for assuming that this challenge is any different for us today.

Lest there was any confusion, on Maundy Thursday – the day before his execution, Jesus not only gave the commandment: Love one another as I have loved you, but in case his hearers might have mistaken this for a platitude, by the act of foot washing he demonstrated the humility called for.

In retrospect the disciples seemed extraordinarily slow on the uptake. For those of us anxious to get as clear as possible a view of Jesus through the gospel record, it is salutary to remember that the disciples who could not have had a closer contact with Jesus in the flesh appeared to have been no better than modern Church folk in understanding and accepting their discipleship responsibilities. The disciples’ conviction when faced by the antagonism of the Pharisees and Roman authorities simply evaporated. Perhaps they were expecting some miracle so that Jesus could thereby avoid his death.

Whatever the case, following through John’s record suggests a variety of degrees of faith and betrayal.

From what we now know about psychology perhaps we should not be surprised the Pharisees were numbered amongst his enemies. It certainly seems plausible that Pharisees should find it easy to condemn the one who alerted them to embarrassing issues of conscience.

Jesus is betrayed by Judas, perhaps because Jesus fails to take the zealot’s preferred option of violent overthrow of the Roman invaders. Most of Jesus’ male disciples appeared not so much to betray as to make themselves scarce when the chips were down. It is interesting that John appears to give more space to Peter’s actions and words than to those of Jesus in the events of that final evening. Peter famously betrays Jesus by declaring he does not know the one he early identified as the Messiah.

Yet according to John’s record there were some who remained loyal. A few women- and the unnamed disciple referred only as the beloved disciple – were there at the foot of the cross. We should always honour those who are not afraid to support that which they know to be right. Knowing our own reluctance to speak up when it might draw unwelcome attention, we should also be hesitant about condemning those who were not staying to be counted.

Make no mistake about it. The confusion and inability to stay on course when faced with suffering and death is almost a universal condition rather than simply a weakness which afflicted those weak disciples. Like Peter, we too are tempted to surrender to a loss of nerve and are even alienated when presented with a Love-centred vision for those dimensions of life where love is conveniently absent. Knowing that those who followed Jesus failed him, or even that some who welcomed him with Palm branches may have been among those who a few short days later were prepared to shout “crucify” is now somewhat academic. To admit that we too have these same tendencies to turn from the vision and possibilities of a Love centred life places us back within the Easter scene.

We cannot avoid the prospect of death – either for ourselves or for others who matter to us. The flickering TV images of starving children, news stories of children caught up in prostitution and modern slavery, the destruction of local livelihoods in the name of progress, those who suffer through accident of birth and those deliberately blind to their suffering are unfortunately all common knowledge – we can hardly protest we know nothing of these. Our test comes when we have to decide how we react to the suffering which comes our way. The suffering may well have gained new focus when Jesus was taken to die, but the words of Psalm 22 used by Jesus on the Cross still ring out today.

If Jesus’ suffering is representative, then surely it is representative of the suffering that is still part of the human condition. Honouring Jesus and his suffering by coming to worship on Friday is then only the first part. What would give integrity to our intention to give honour is to allow ourselves.  First, surely to notice and only then care about the suffering of our community and …. world – so that we too might  respond to that suffering: supporting and standing with those prepared to become involved. It may appear a blunt challenge, yet since we can no longer stand literally at the foot of the Cross, if we claim his suffering is important to us, surely, we should at least consider putting our money where our mouth is, allowing ourselves to risk position and security, and above all making time available for those swept up in chaos, pain and suffering.

The challenge is plainly not to die as Jesus died. Despite the sincerity and enthusiasm with which we may sing that Good Friday hymn, we were simply NOT there when they crucified my Lord…On the other hand in today’s world where the issues are changed, surely the same Love that Jesus used to confront issues of Justice, hypocrisy, misfortune, and unkindness is still in need of a voice. The cross of Jesus is not a repeatable event, yet in facing that Cross, Jesus was modelling an attitude of love that can continue to find creative ways to confront suffering, pain and need…. if we will but look.

There is finality in suffering leading to death and the gospels do not allow us to escape the detail. Strangely John’s account never quite leaves us with the feeling that we are looking at one who will be left a corpse of Jesus. John may not have been a particularly good historian in that he leaves us with puzzles and even contradictions when his account is stacked up against those of the synoptic gospels. Nevertheless, John is the better poet and theologian. In his account of the crucifixion and subsequent account of the burial we see, again and again, not the finality of a corpse – but rather the evocative “body of Christ”.

As the poetry of our communion reminds us – at least in intention we too can become part of this body. Whether or not we also accept we must do so at a meaningful level remains the open question.

Yet I wonder if the story has become too familiar and even too remote to matter in the way we currently live and order our lives. It’s not that the standard formula, that Jesus died for our sins that we might be saved, is intentionally shallow or dishonest. However, today’s attitudes mean we should be cautious before rushing too quickly to the familiar religious phrases without first checking we have grasped their relevance and found meaning there for lives now set in a very different world.

It is true that Jesus is the centerpiece of the Good Friday story.  But there are puzzles. For one thing he acts almost as if his suffering is inevitable. According to the gospel accounts, although he makes it abundantly clear he would like to avoid the cross, Jesus certainly makes no attempt to run from his impending fate.

Nor does he make the attempt to find a safer path. The clearing of the Temple had been brave – but in terms of his personal safety, some would have called it foolhardy. He appeared to have permitted Judas to betray him to the authorities, and when the soldiers arrived to arrest him, he prevented Peter from defending him with his sword. He made no recorded plea for mercy.  Nor as far as we can tell, did he curse his enemies. Even on the cross he was concerned for others, praying for the forgiveness of his enemies, concerned for his mother – and even reportedly concerned for others crucified with him.

That he was able to do so in the knowledge he was abandoned by virtually all his followers – and that he could remain true to his cause when under extreme duress – gives his message of uncompromising love a genuine authenticity.

However, I want to stress Jesus’ suffering is only one aspect of Good Friday. Listing his sufferings and presenting the collection as the way he died as our deputy to save us from our sins may be good theatre but claiming this is guarantee that Jesus will deal to our problems is hardly encouraging us to step out to face whatever life sends our way.

There is even a question of whether we are facing reality if we talk about Jesus dying as the ultimate answer to all our problems. I have no issue with the hope that Jesus died so that the victims of suicide bombers, the child prostitutes from the hill tribes of South-East Asia, and the Palestinians in Gaza fleeing for their lives might have life …For Christians surely life for victims comes in part first through the potential actions of Jesus’ followers??? I guess my concern is that our focus on what happened to Jesus might take our attention from the suffering that continues to be.

Knowing what we have been saved from has always seems less interesting than the implied underlying question – not from what – but for what have we been saved?

The answer to that second question may be somewhat less demanding of our skill with theology than we think. Surely if we are saved, what we have been saved for should include continuing the mission established by the one we follow.

Time after time Jesus reminded his followers in a variety of ways that they were simply being called to do what is just, what is right and what is humane. The message about loving one’s neighbour as oneself was nothing more than a challenge to change priorities – to put others ahead of self. I see no reason for assuming that this challenge is any different for us today.

Lest there was any confusion, on Maundy Thursday – the day before his execution, Jesus not only gave the commandment: Love one another as I have loved you, but in case his hearers might have mistaken this for a platitude, by the act of foot washing he demonstrated the humility called for.

In retrospect the disciples seemed extraordinarily slow on the uptake. For those of us anxious to get as clear as possible a view of Jesus through the gospel record, it is salutary to remember that the disciples who could not have had a closer contact with Jesus in the flesh appeared to have been no better than modern Church folk in understanding and accepting their discipleship responsibilities. The disciples’ conviction when faced by the antagonism of the Pharisees and Roman authorities simply evaporated. Perhaps they were expecting some miracle so that Jesus could thereby avoid his death.

Whatever the case, following through John’s record suggests a variety of degrees of faith and betrayal.

From what we now know about psychology perhaps we should not be surprised the Pharisees were numbered amongst his enemies. It certainly seems plausible that Pharisees should find it easy to condemn the one who alerted them to embarrassing issues of conscience.

Jesus is betrayed by Judas, perhaps because Jesus fails to take the zealot’s preferred option of violent overthrow of the Roman invaders. Most of Jesus’ male disciples appeared not so much to betray as to make themselves scarce when the chips were down. It is interesting that John appears to give more space to Peter’s actions and words than to those of Jesus in the events of that final evening. Peter famously betrays Jesus by declaring he does not know the one he early identified as the Messiah.

Yet according to John’s record there were some who remained loyal. A few women- and the unnamed disciple referred only as the beloved disciple – were there at the foot of the cross. We should always honour those who are not afraid to support that which they know to be right. Knowing our own reluctance to speak up when it might draw unwelcome attention, we should also be hesitant about condemning those who were not staying to be counted.

Make no mistake about it. The confusion and inability to stay on course when faced with suffering and death is almost a universal condition rather than simply a weakness which afflicted those weak disciples. Like Peter, we too are tempted to surrender to a loss of nerve and are even alienated when presented with a Love-centred vision for those dimensions of life where love is conveniently absent. Knowing that those who followed Jesus failed him, or even that some who welcomed him with Palm branches may have been among those who a few short days later were prepared to shout “crucify” is now somewhat academic. To admit that we too have these same tendencies to turn from the vision and possibilities of a Love centred life places us back within the Easter scene.

We cannot avoid the prospect of death – either for ourselves or for others who matter to us. The flickering TV images of starving children, news stories of children caught up in prostitution and modern slavery, the destruction of local livelihoods in the name of progress, those who suffer through accident of birth and those deliberately blind to their suffering are unfortunately all common knowledge – we can hardly protest we know nothing of these. Our test comes when we have to decide how we react to the suffering which comes our way. The suffering may well have gained new focus when Jesus was taken to die, but the words of Psalm 22 used by Jesus on the Cross still ring out today.

If Jesus’ suffering is representative, then surely it is representative of the suffering that is still part of the human condition. Honouring Jesus and his suffering by coming to worship on Friday is then only the first part. What would give integrity to our intention to give honour is to allow ourselves.  First, surely to notice and only then care about the suffering of our community and …. world – so that we too might  respond to that suffering: supporting and standing with those prepared to become involved. It may appear a blunt challenge, yet since we can no longer stand literally at the foot of the Cross, if we claim his suffering is important to us, surely, we should at least consider putting our money where our mouth is, allowing ourselves to risk position and security, and above all making time available for those swept up in chaos, pain and suffering.

The challenge is plainly not to die as Jesus died. Despite the sincerity and enthusiasm with which we may sing that Good Friday hymn, we were simply NOT there when they crucified my Lord…On the other hand in today’s world where the issues are changed, surely the same Love that Jesus used to confront issues of Justice, hypocrisy, misfortune, and unkindness is still in need of a voice. The cross of Jesus is not a repeatable event, yet in facing that Cross, Jesus was modelling an attitude of love that can continue to find creative ways to confront suffering, pain and need…. if we will but look.

There is finality in suffering leading to death and the gospels do not allow us to escape the detail. Strangely John’s account never quite leaves us with the feeling that we are looking at one who will be left a corpse of Jesus. John may not have been a particularly good historian in that he leaves us with puzzles and even contradictions when his account is stacked up against those of the synoptic gospels. Nevertheless, John is the better poet and theologian. In his account of the crucifixion and subsequent account of the burial we see, again and again, not the finality of a corpse – but rather the evocative “body of Christ”.

As the poetry of our communion reminds us – at least in intention we too can become part of this body. Whether or not we also accept we must do so at a meaningful level remains the open question.

Lectionary sermon for Palm Sunday 24 March 2024 on Mark 11:1-11 (or John 12:12 – 16)

Palm Sunday? – If we are honest, we should admit the shouting, palm waving crowd when Jesus came to town riding on an ass (or a donkey) is a bit hard for modern Westerners to understand. Perhaps it is just as well to remember that even in Jesus’ day there is every reason to suspect from the gospels that the original crowds lining the road were reported as being equally confused. But did you notice in John’s version of this event the disciples who presumably knew Jesus well were also just as confused?  Perhaps assuming the disciples took a while to understand, then today almost two thousand years later, we should stop to ask our own questions.

Palm Sunday as recorded by Mark is a story similarly overlaid with confusion about Jesus, plenty of prophetic symbolism and, from Jesus a strange mix of humility and in-your-face political challenge.

The Bible scholars amongst you may well already be aware that Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem is suggested by some historians to be only one of two parades into Jerusalem that day – and if the scholars like Marcus Borg and Dominic Crossan have it right, the two parades could not have been more unlike.

The first was the official parade – that of the show of Roman might as the Roman governor Pilate, Governor of Idumea, Judea and Samaria returned from his preferred residence on the coast at Caesarea Maritima to make his obligatory appearance for the religious festival in Jerusalem. Because he was making a political point, it would have been a parade with full military pomp and circumstance. This parade would have course been the big event of the day. The Romans did such occasions well, and the spectacle of the parade would have underlined for the crowd that here was the reminder of substantial power that would brook no challenge.

The Roman parade was a none too subtle way of reminding people that there was no point in struggling against power or economic exploitation, and even carried the subliminal message that Roman values and even Roman religion was now the only game in town. With a well-advertised event, soldiers and weapons like spears and swords on display, foot soldiers with their leather armour, golden eagles on poles and the horse drawn chariots, amongst those watching that parade there would be many spectators who presumably could not help but be impressed.

There is always some ambiguity about military parades. I read some Palm Sunday sermons written at about the time of the US entry to Baghdad in their occupation of Iraq. A surprising number of those claimed to have found similarity between that triumphant entry and Jesus’ entry to Jerusalem. Initially that might have even seemed to be the case. However, the devastation wrought to enable that Baghdad parade and the widespread violence which was subsequently unleashed through the country might now suggest that whatever the intended message of the victory parade, we would only confuse it with that of Jesus. Now with the 20:20 vision of hindsight, I would like to suggest that the similarity of the Baghdad victory parade was more in keeping with Pilate’s entry, and about as effective in the long term.

The other parade, in which we understand Jesus entered the city from the other side in the East, through the Mount of Olives would have been much more low-key. It is true that Mark describes a crowd that recognized in Jesus someone to cheer but the scholars are probably correct in guessing that it was not a vast crowd. Nor is it even clear if the cries of “Hosanna” – literally “Save us” might even have included an exaggerated attempt on the part of some in the crowd to highlight the contrast with the entry of the Roman governor. Alternately it would be interesting to discover to what extent it was really the heartfelt cry of those desperate for a saviour.

As Mark records it, although blind Bartimaeus had called Jesus the son of David (10:46-52), the crowd did not use those words but rather talked of the kingdom of David. Nor for that matter, did they even say that, with Jesus the kingdom had arrived – but rather shouted of the coming kingdom. According to the scholar Albert Schweitzer, there may even be a case for saying that if Jesus was thought to be heralding the kingdom then perhaps the crowd thought that Jesus was Elijah – the expected forerunner of the Messiah, and not the Messiah himself.

Although some present may have noted Jesus coming in on a donkey almost as a deliberate humble and even mocking contrast with Pilate’s military show, there may have been others who wondered if indeed this might have even been the sign that the ancient prophecy was being fulfilled. Because the Saviour was expected by many to be the return of David, this mode of entry might even have caused confusion.

David, you may remember, had his own style of entering a city in triumph. When for example he defeated the Canaanites who had taunted him before the battle, he entered the city with his soldiers and promptly ordered the killing of all the men in the city, including the cripples. In this respect at least, Jesus was no David.

The donkey or colt was not just a symbol of humility. According to custom, a great leader wishing to show war-like intent would enter a city on a horse in full armour – but a king coming in peace would sometimes show this intent by riding a colt or a donkey. For those aware of this custom, Jesus’ action might also be interpreted as accepting the title of king – and therefore his coming might even be inferred a challenge to the established Church and to Rome.

The prophet Zechariah in Chapter 9 verse 9 of his book does his own prediction.

“Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion!
Shout daughter of Jerusalem!
See, your king comes to you,
righteous and having salvation,
gentle and riding on a donkey,
on a colt, the foal of a donkey.”

The gospel accounts almost seem to be recording the event in such a way as to highlight the way in which Jesus meets Zechariah’s prophecy.
The cries of “Hosanna” … “Save us” ….and the carpeting of the road with the Palm branches certainly sounds like the welcome of the awaited one. But a closer reading suggests a deep misunderstanding.

The words which John records the crowd using to greet Jesus are a direct quotation from Psalm 118: 25 and 26 – as it happens, the last Psalm from the group called Hallel (Psalms 113 – 118). As part of the ritual of the Passover feast, worshippers carried bundles made of palm, willow and myrtle branches, and waved them as they marched chanting these same verses from this psalm. The association in the people’s minds with the Messiah as a conqueror is underlined if we remember for example that this same psalm was also sung when Simon Maccabaeus had overcome the Syrian forces and conquered Accra one hundred years previously.

This means just as Jesus was signalling the type of mission he represented with his entry on the colt, perhaps the crowd were signalling in their words and actions that the anointed one they were expecting was to be their mighty leader who could lead to victory over Rome and beyond.

Yet – did you also notice that the crowd did became fair weather friends once the parade was over? If the crowd was sufficiently convinced that here at last was the expected Messiah, they would hardly have left Jesus free to quietly withdraw from Jerusalem at the end of the day, with only his regular disciples as company as Mark tells us happened.

Perhaps one of the problems was that for many, following this Jesus who comes in peace is all very well in theory, but sooner or later there is an inevitable clash of values. Just as Jesus’ parade was a contrast with that of Pilate, fairly quickly we start to reason that those values Pilate was demonstrating – that power talks, that exploitation is fine if you have strong enough support – and even that religion must fit with those values of hierarchy – are awfully close to those values that drive our society even today.

To notice that Jesus can and does value those who society can uncaringly reject, showing by example the lowly paid are valued as much as the wealthy, that those typically rejected deserve our time and attention – these may remind us that there is a choice to be made. It is not a challenge to wave and cheer at the one in the parade. That would simply leave us as spectators. It is more the challenge to accept his message and values as our own. Two parades and if there is a choice of which one to follow which one will ultimately gain our loyalty?

Perhaps most worrying for our modern world is that Jesus, when confronted with the option of force deliberately went with the non-violent option. In terms of assuming the inevitability of the industrial military complex that legitimises much of what the people of most nations appear to believe today this may yet be the hardest aspect of Jesus teaching for us to accept as a value that we genuinely wish to follow. Saying Jesus is right, presumably means that those who advocate force to maintain control and global position are wrong.

There is a counter intuitive aspect to Christianity, but this does not mean it is necessarily impractical. Over the last few years, we have seen several dramatic examples where common sense fails and in retrospect the Christ alternative apparently had more to offer. However, punishing rebellion with military might, as common sense appears to dictate, actually seems to increase the incidence of terrorism…whereas the Jesus’ alternative of forgiving and even showing love to our enemies remains the largely untried option. Capital punishment and relaxed gun laws may provide a feeling of personal security, but in the real world, the statistics of the location of serious crime rates and high imprisonment rates do not match the intentions of the extreme solutions.

Again, the creation of wealth may seem common sense, but where this is done the gap between the rich and the poor appears to widen. Jesus’ example of caring for the underprivileged is the option which is yet to attract real support.

To remain part of the parade is to understand that we too must accept Jesus’ values and allow them to become part of our lives. As long as we watch from the sidelines, like those original spectators for Jesus’ original Palm Sunday parade, the ambiguity and confusion as to who Jesus is will remain. The man on the donkey awaits our response.

Lectionary thoughts for 17 March 2024 Lent 5b: John 12:20-33

ROOM FOR GREEK STRANGERS? I suspect many of us might be more relaxed newcomers who seem to be like us.    If we prefer to leave it to others to do the greeting when it comes to strangers who appear to be different perhaps this should be an indication of where we are in our Christian journey?

So, when some Greeks – who of course would have been Gentiles as far as Jesus’ Jewish disciples were concerned, turned up with a request – “Sir we would like to see Jesus”.  What does Phillip do?  We can imagine him thinking. “Foreigners – not like us. Probably foreigners with strange beliefs. Certainly not the sort who would fit in with us…..”

So is Philip very different from a good number of us of us in the Church today. I can imagine him saying to himself, “Well, it’s not for me to introduce these sorts of strangers to Jesus…. So I’ll find someone, someone apart from me, who can act as an agent on my behalf”.

So Phillip chose …?… Andrew.  Remember elsewhere it was Andrew who has invited some others to meet Jesus…. If we had been in Philip’s place as today’s Christians, might we have referred the foreign strangers to the minister or Parish Steward?

Don’t be too surprised at Phillip. After all, from what we know of churches today would a group of mainline Protestants or Catholics be in a hurry to invite a Muslim, a Jehovah’s witness, or even a Russian Orthodox into their inner circle? Maybe, if they took the words from the example Jesus set, they should – but would they? – or more to the point, would we?

Do you think it a bit bizarre that the Greeks should even be there to meet Jesus?  Gentiles were not part of the inner circle, so why were they there?

One commentator J H Bernard notes that since the account of Jesus clearing the Temple reminds us that event would have occurred in the Gentiles courtyard, and he speculates that perhaps these particular Greeks may have even witnessed that event and been sufficiently intrigued to seek out the man responsible for this daring act.

Perhaps here John (verse 32) may be reminding us that with Lent almost behind us the reality of Jesus is about to be revealed when he quotes Jesus’ words, “when am lifted up I can draw everyone to myself”.

There is  no difference in what Jesus want from all his disciples from what he now requires from the causal Greeks checking out what getting involved with Jesus would mean when the chips were down.   ….  this is not merely a half-hearted choice which allows you to keep to your old way of life. “Whoever serves me must follow me.”

Do you think this may have always been a challenge.  Ultimately it won’t be what we read. Even our own declarations count for little. We can announce we are Methodists or Presbyterians or Catholics – but whether we are new to the faith, even would-be followers like the Greeks, or for many of us, members of a particular Church with many years of membership behind us… it is not our status that counts but whether or not we are following the way that Jesus set out in front of his disciples.

By using his allusion of the seed that has to separate itself from its parent plant – in effect to die to its old self before it can set off its new life, Jesus confronts them with an uncompromising alternative. Soren Kierkegaard would probably identify it as the key feature of existentialism – the leap of faith.
………..the leap that no one can do for you.

I suspect that Jesus’ message is typically down–played, treated with caution by modern society and even by much of the corporate Church.

Modern society is based on the concept of material success and the achievement of status through the accumulation of wealth and possessions. To set these aside, is to reject what is commonly accepted as the only sensible way to live. Even in the corporate Church, the notion of individual response without someone to organize it on our behalf is just not how we operate.

While this no doubt gives us the assurance we are not acting alone, there is frequently an inertia, particularly when there is an assumption that we require the Church to act as broker before we can respond to how our conscience appears to lead.

Robert Funk sees typical religion as unfortunately something brokered by a whole raft of people on our behalf. The Archbishop or Church president selects and ordains the senior leaders, the senior church folk (often Bishops) ordain the clergy – and the clergy act as an intermediary between the congregation and the divine. And just in case we are expecting action on the issues that concern us, there is usually a ponderous committee structure to navigate. While we have clearly become more democratic in our processes, we should be honest enough to see the end-result is that the Church no longer typically gives clear lead on issues of conscience.

I guess that is not new.
In the Second World War for example, in Germany it was only the individuals acting alone who could bring themselves to stand against Hitler. Those individuals were not waiting for their actions to be mediated for them. Less than 10% of the Lutheran Church clergy spoke out and, as it happens, even today the Roman Catholic Church is continuing to defend itself on a frequently expressed charge for their past -support for the Nazis.

On the world scene, for years the traditional Church denominations were also initially reluctant to speak against slavery, more recently the mainline Churches were painfully slow in that even the biggest Churches still appear reluctant to see women in significant leadership roles. Today they continue to say little about the arms trade. Peace makers may be blessed in the sermon on the Mount, but they have not always been visible as part of Church leadership in some of the nastier conflicts. An army chaplain, blessing the mission to drop an atomic bomb on a Japanese city, may not represent one of the Church’s finer moments. In this country, despite the record growing gap between the rich and the poor, the Church response has been reactive rather than proactive and, if anything, muted and restrained.

Individually however we do see within our Churches a small number of determined brave individuals anxious to move forward even without official backing, prepared to follow where their conscience leads. Since we should never forget that in the last analysis the Church is us, we can and should be inspired that we have amongst us those unafraid to question government policy, those prepared to speak up for refugees and minorities, those unafraid to work with the gangs, the addicts and the homeless. We continue to be inspired by those prepared to volunteer in disaster zones, those who insist on supporting Christian World service and those of our Church folk prepared to go into War zones as aid workers.

When we look at the way Jesus interacted with those he met, we notice he continually pushed them to take personal responsibility. It is also my impression he tended not to insist those healed that God had done it for them.  Instead, he acknowledged their personal faith, or actions in seeking his help. It was as if he represented a non-brokered faith … a faith in which the shouldering of a personal cross is the test of an individual response.

The seed analogy is vivid and helpful. A seed still attached to the parent plant can only whither and decay. The seed freed to germinate and take root can give rise to new life. Certainly, the parent plant – in our case even the parent Church has an essential part of our life cycle. Yet even there the parent Church should be continually allowing and even encouraging the seed to break free to give rise to genuine new life.

Jesus talks of the confrontation as one he in particular must face for himself. He sees the paradox of finding life through death, release through suffering, in effect as the dawn after the night. Some of the terminology he uses strongly suggests his premonition of the dark despair he is understood to have faced in the garden of Gethsemane. As always with John it is hard to disentangle the theology from the factual record.

Some of the allusions are easy to grasp. When Jesus talks of he (and she?!) who loves his (or her?!) life will lose it Jesus is not of course talking of a sense of the worth of life – but rather the attractions of a shallow pursuit of that which comes easy… yet there is still mystery. The notion of hating your life to win eternal life is a difficult thought-provoking paradox and perhaps related to the historical fact that by the death of the martyrs the Church itself apparently grew. Yet in what sense the life continues is much harder to put into words. Modern cosmology has in effect put paid to notions of heaven being up there and hell down there as places, and the certainty with which some describe the hereafter (particularly at funerals) is hard to justify since many of the descriptions are contradictory and mutually exclusive.

What we can however be sure of is that a sense of what Jesus stood for has continued to have a lasting significance and regardless of the manner of his execution his message and the Spirit of what he stood for lives on, but not in the ether. Rather it is in the responses and deeds of those who win the right to be called followers by how they respond to the way of Jesus. Will that include those like us?

By contrast perhaps we might finish with an historical anecdote.
There are several versions of the story about the King Xerxes about to invade Greece. One version says that before they crossed the Hellespont River, he had his mighty Persian army drawn up so that he might review them. He smiled in great satisfaction at their magnificence – then his officers noticed suddenly he had tears in his eyes. “What troubles you?” the officer asked.

“I was just thinking that, in one hundred years, not a single one of these fine soldiers will be alive. Nothing will remain”.

Xerxes’ words might remind us that each of us have a relatively brief time in which we can respond to the gospel. And don’t forget that when it comes to following Christ, each generation needs to ensure the mission is handed on to the next generation. We can’t depend on what previous disciples did in the past. We can’t glory only in the deeds of previous generation of Christians.   Newcomers or “old-hands”, the test is always the challenge of living the faith.

The essence of Christianity was not necessarily finished when Jesus was lifted-up on his cross. It continues to live amongst those we encounter………. if we make it live, but finding meaning in his message about our own seed is the chapter that we will have to write for ourselves.