This sermon is based on the story of the Transfiguration in Mark 9:2-9
===
Introduction
When the television show 'Grumpy Old Men' first made an appearance, my husband and I enjoyed watching it immensely. We'd sit there, laughing, and we both agreed that - yes - my husband is a grumpy old man.
But then, one Christmas season, I got my comeuppance, didn't I?
Because there was a new show on television called 'Grumpy Old Women'. And my husband laughed at me and said 'You're a grumpy old woman!' And I had to laugh and agree with him.
The gist of all the comments of the grumpy old men and women, of course, is that things were better 20, 30, 50 or even 100 years ago.
They say that when most people yearn for the 'Good Old Days', that they yearn for a mythical Golden Age that they most likely didn't live through. That era is part of the story of 'When we were a great society'. And it may not be a real era at all.
I'm not sure about exactly when the British golden era was, but I have a fair idea of what it looks like: A farming village in mid-summer that Constable could have painted, with happy obedient children in their Sunday best walking to church with their plump, rosy-cheeked parents.
And we hear the British Christian media harking back to that golden age a lot. Whenever it was, that age was 'When we were a Christian society'.
Transfiguration and Transformation
I think Mark's Gospel gives us some hints that when Peter, James and John went up to the mountain-top with Jesus that they were yearning for a Golden Era of Israel.
Just before his excursion up the mountain, Jesus has told the twelve that the Messiah must suffer and die and Peter has rebuked Jesus for saying such things.
But the experience on the mountain-top, now that's more like it! I reckon this experience is a lot more like what Peter, James and John had in mind. The three of them, alone with Jesus and two great immortal - literally - figures of Israel's Golden Age: Moses and Elijah.
The Transfiguration is a divine manifestation of God on earth.
Peter wants to stay here. In his mind, this is why he became a disciple of Jesus. This is what he's been waiting for. As far as Peter is concerned, this place on the mountain is the Real Deal. The goal has been obtained.
Transformation
But the Transfiguration is also a transformation.
The Transfiguration doesn't bless the past or the idea that God's people need to go back to a Golden Age. As with all supposed Golden Ages, that Golden Age of Israel never actually existed.
And the Transfiguration certainly doesn't call us to stay in the present.
When the disciples look like wanting to bask in the glow of this fantastical other-worldy moment, Jesus moves them all smartly down from the mountaintop back into the everyday world.
The Transfiguration is about moving into the future, but it's not a future that will look like that Golden Age that we are imagining.
It's not the future where the Messiah cannot die, as Peter imagines. And it's not a future where Jesus is going to be a supernatural conquering king, as James and John imagine when they ask him, just a few verses from now, to sit at his right and left when he reigns in glory.
The Transfiguration is a transformation: not only of the world but also a transformation of our way of thinking about God and his Kingdom.
The Kingdom of God, and God himself, are not to be found only on the mountain-top and only in the Spiritual Realms, they are also to be found in the nitty-gritty of everyday life.
In Matthew's Gospel, this story stands right at the transition-point between the first part of the Gospel in which we hear about Jesus' ministry and teaching. And the second part of the Gospel in which we hear that the Messiah must suffer and die.
This glorious manifestation of God doesn't come at some triumphant point in the life of Jesus. It comes at the point when the disciples and the readers are only just beginning to come to terms with the idea that Jesus' glorious divine mission on earth is not to be a supernatural superhero but it is, in fact, to die a very human death.
How appropriate, therefore, that we should read this story today, in the Sunday before Lent.
Conclusion
The story of the Transfiguration is a story of transformation and it is also a
revelation of Jesus' glory.
The glory of Jesus that is revealed in the Transfiguration is the glory of the cross.
Jesus will destroy sin, death and the power of evil not by obliterating them, but by submitting himself to their full fury.
But Jesus has to come down off the mountain in order to accomplish this mission.
And human notions of 'spirituality' and of what it means to encounter God need to come down off the mountain too.
To be a Christian is not to seek to live always on the mountain-top. To be a Christian is not to put God in a box labelled 'spirit' or 'prayer' and to ignore his presence in the physical world. To be a Christian is not to yearn for a Golden Past nor is it even to believe that salvation will only happen in the future.
Our God is a God whose salvation centres in the very fact that he became human, took on our sins, suffered and died.
Christianity properly understood says that God is in the here and now. Where-ever we go, when we encounter joy and sadness or health or pain, God is there. In fact, God was there before we ever got there ourselves.
The Christian God is to be found in the here and now and God's presence is to be found in suffering and death as much as in health and life.
My prayer for us this morning is that the Transfiguration will transform our hearts so that we can become ever more open to the presence of God in our world. As we come to encounter our Lord present in the Eucharist, may the Spirit of Christ grow in our hearts so that we may see the presence of God in the people and the world around us. Amen
Showing posts with label Cross. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cross. Show all posts
Sunday, February 15, 2009
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Sunday 8 February 2009 - Healer of the World
This sermon is based on Mark 1:29-39 and Isaiah 40:21-31
===
Introduction
This past July, the BBC ran a special documentary programme celebrating the 60th anniversary of the creation of the NHS. Whilst I expect that there might be people in the congregation this morning who can remember the creation of the NHS (but, of course, only as very small children!) I found the programme fascinating. Particularly as a lover of history and as a foreigner.
I was by no means surprised to learn that the British Medical Association initially opposed the formation of the NHS. But I was surprised to find out that the NHS was actually conceived of and implemented within what seemed like a very short space of time. (18 months?)
One of the stories I found interesting was the account of the number of people who flocked to their local doctor's office on the day the NHS began. If I remember the programme correctly, the number of people with untreated medical conditions who presented themselves at doctors' surgeries far exceeded the NHS's pre-opening estimates.
There were far more people than anyone had previously imagined living with chronic medical conditions that they could not afford to have treated. For example, there were people living with enormous hernias. One of the most heart-breaking accounts was the large estimate of the number of children who had previously died with appendicitis whilst their parents treated their bad tummy aches with castor oil because there was no question of being able to afford to take their child to the doctor.
One of the most heart-warming accounts was that of a receptionist in a doctors' surgery who told stories of patients bringing presents to the surgery for the first few years of the NHS - so amazed and delighted were people to finally have access to health treatment.
Everyone was yearning for healing.
Jesus - Healer of the World
In this morning's Gospel reading, we are being put on notice that Jesus is the healer of the world.
This is is the second miracle story in the Gospel of Mark.
We heard the first story last week - the story of the casting out of the demon in the Synagogue. Last week, you might say we had a healing of the mind. This week, we have a healing of the body. And a little bit further on in the Gospel of Mark, we will have a healing of the spirit when Jesus forgives the sins of the paralytic.
But Jesus' ministry is not going to be settling down in Capernaum and setting up shop as a healer and a wise man, even though the presence of the crowds indicates that Jesus could make quite a pleasant living that way.
Jesus takes time out from the demands of the crowd to pray and he comes back convinced that travelling and preaching are also part of his calling and his ministry. His calling is not just the healing of individuals, but also the healing of the world.
And his ministry is going to be an unconventional one.
Ultimately, it will be a scandal, because the healing of the world will come not through the creation of world peace and harmony. Rather the healing of the world will come through a death on a cross.
God the Redeemer
The good news of Jesus Christ that Mark proclaims in his Gospel is the same good news that the Church has proclaimed since the first Easter Sunday. It is the same good news that helped the people of Israel to keep the faith in exile in Babylon: The Good News is that God is our healer and our Redeemer as well as our Creator.
This has been the witness of the people of God down through the ages: that God will save and heal his people and his creation.
Sometimes stories of miraculous healings like that of Simon's mother-in-law can be difficult to hear, particularly for those of us - and I expect we're the majority rather than the minority - who know someone who could do with a miraculous healing right now.
And I don't have any easy answers for us about the problem of pain and suffering or why some people recover from illness and others do not.
What I can do, however, is point us all to this morning's reading from Isaiah and say: 'These people knew what it meant to suffer. They knew what it meant to be homeless, rootless, without inheritance and without hope. They knew what it meant to feel abandoned by God but still they professed their trust in God's faithfulness.'
If Mark's story sounds a bit too much to modern ears like it is asking us to believe in a God who waves a magic wand and makes all pain and suffering go away, then the story of the exile in Isaiah should reassure us that the core of our faith is not based on magic tricks.
The faith professed in Isaiah is not the faith of a people whose God has magically made everything better. Rather it is the faith of a suffering people who nonetheless believe that the Lord will renew their strength until they are no longer weary.
Ultimately, Mark will reveal that the unconventional thing about Jesus' story is that he will not save Israel by healing everyone. He will not save Israel by putting peace in the hearts of humanity nor will he save Israel by making it immortal.
What is unconventional and unexpected about the story of Jesus is that he is going to save the world by dying himself. This is at the heart of the scandal of the cross: that Jesus heals us from sin, death and the power of evil not by obliterating them but by entering into them himself.
Our hope lies in Jesus not because he makes suffering go away, but because he enters into human suffering.
Conclusion
Everyone yearns for healing.
Some of us here may be praying for a kind of healing for ourselves or our loved ones and the answers to our prayers will not be as we hope.
But I believe that God nonetheless offers a kind of healing that is appropriate for each person. And I believe that God has promised that, ultimately, his kingdom will come and that his whole creation will be healed.
My prayer for each of us this morning is that we may be given the eyes to see the healing that God makes available for each of us and our loved ones. And I pray that, like Israel in exile, we will be given the strength to wait with joy and expectation for the coming of God's Kingdom. Amen
===
Introduction
This past July, the BBC ran a special documentary programme celebrating the 60th anniversary of the creation of the NHS. Whilst I expect that there might be people in the congregation this morning who can remember the creation of the NHS (but, of course, only as very small children!) I found the programme fascinating. Particularly as a lover of history and as a foreigner.
I was by no means surprised to learn that the British Medical Association initially opposed the formation of the NHS. But I was surprised to find out that the NHS was actually conceived of and implemented within what seemed like a very short space of time. (18 months?)
One of the stories I found interesting was the account of the number of people who flocked to their local doctor's office on the day the NHS began. If I remember the programme correctly, the number of people with untreated medical conditions who presented themselves at doctors' surgeries far exceeded the NHS's pre-opening estimates.
There were far more people than anyone had previously imagined living with chronic medical conditions that they could not afford to have treated. For example, there were people living with enormous hernias. One of the most heart-breaking accounts was the large estimate of the number of children who had previously died with appendicitis whilst their parents treated their bad tummy aches with castor oil because there was no question of being able to afford to take their child to the doctor.
One of the most heart-warming accounts was that of a receptionist in a doctors' surgery who told stories of patients bringing presents to the surgery for the first few years of the NHS - so amazed and delighted were people to finally have access to health treatment.
Everyone was yearning for healing.
Jesus - Healer of the World
In this morning's Gospel reading, we are being put on notice that Jesus is the healer of the world.
This is is the second miracle story in the Gospel of Mark.
We heard the first story last week - the story of the casting out of the demon in the Synagogue. Last week, you might say we had a healing of the mind. This week, we have a healing of the body. And a little bit further on in the Gospel of Mark, we will have a healing of the spirit when Jesus forgives the sins of the paralytic.
But Jesus' ministry is not going to be settling down in Capernaum and setting up shop as a healer and a wise man, even though the presence of the crowds indicates that Jesus could make quite a pleasant living that way.
Jesus takes time out from the demands of the crowd to pray and he comes back convinced that travelling and preaching are also part of his calling and his ministry. His calling is not just the healing of individuals, but also the healing of the world.
And his ministry is going to be an unconventional one.
Ultimately, it will be a scandal, because the healing of the world will come not through the creation of world peace and harmony. Rather the healing of the world will come through a death on a cross.
God the Redeemer
The good news of Jesus Christ that Mark proclaims in his Gospel is the same good news that the Church has proclaimed since the first Easter Sunday. It is the same good news that helped the people of Israel to keep the faith in exile in Babylon: The Good News is that God is our healer and our Redeemer as well as our Creator.
This has been the witness of the people of God down through the ages: that God will save and heal his people and his creation.
Sometimes stories of miraculous healings like that of Simon's mother-in-law can be difficult to hear, particularly for those of us - and I expect we're the majority rather than the minority - who know someone who could do with a miraculous healing right now.
And I don't have any easy answers for us about the problem of pain and suffering or why some people recover from illness and others do not.
What I can do, however, is point us all to this morning's reading from Isaiah and say: 'These people knew what it meant to suffer. They knew what it meant to be homeless, rootless, without inheritance and without hope. They knew what it meant to feel abandoned by God but still they professed their trust in God's faithfulness.'
If Mark's story sounds a bit too much to modern ears like it is asking us to believe in a God who waves a magic wand and makes all pain and suffering go away, then the story of the exile in Isaiah should reassure us that the core of our faith is not based on magic tricks.
The faith professed in Isaiah is not the faith of a people whose God has magically made everything better. Rather it is the faith of a suffering people who nonetheless believe that the Lord will renew their strength until they are no longer weary.
Ultimately, Mark will reveal that the unconventional thing about Jesus' story is that he will not save Israel by healing everyone. He will not save Israel by putting peace in the hearts of humanity nor will he save Israel by making it immortal.
What is unconventional and unexpected about the story of Jesus is that he is going to save the world by dying himself. This is at the heart of the scandal of the cross: that Jesus heals us from sin, death and the power of evil not by obliterating them but by entering into them himself.
Our hope lies in Jesus not because he makes suffering go away, but because he enters into human suffering.
Conclusion
Everyone yearns for healing.
Some of us here may be praying for a kind of healing for ourselves or our loved ones and the answers to our prayers will not be as we hope.
But I believe that God nonetheless offers a kind of healing that is appropriate for each person. And I believe that God has promised that, ultimately, his kingdom will come and that his whole creation will be healed.
My prayer for each of us this morning is that we may be given the eyes to see the healing that God makes available for each of us and our loved ones. And I pray that, like Israel in exile, we will be given the strength to wait with joy and expectation for the coming of God's Kingdom. Amen
Friday, March 21, 2008
Thursday 20 March 2008 - Maundy Thursday Meditation
This meditation is a bit difficult to communicate 'in writing'. It alternates with scripture readings and hymns (not indicated here). In the service, the whole story moved toward the celebration of The Lord's Supper.
===
Exodus 12:14-20, 26-27
Passover. A terrifying night. We’re huddled inside our home, the only home we have ever known. A lamb has been slaughtered; its blood painted on the front door, the body has been roasted and consumed. But we can’t quite believe what’s happening all around us.
It’s the middle of the night, but we’re not asleep in our bed. Our bellies are full – but we wonder how long it will be before they are full again. Because we’re dressed and packed for a long journey: a journey into the unknown.
All around us in the darkness of the night, we hear the screams of our neighbours. And we know that all of the firstborn males – men and boys who we know – have died. The angel of death has mercifully passed over our houses – the houses of Israel – just as Moses and Aaron said he would. But that does not make this night any less terrifying.
This is the day of redemption: the day that Israel will be delivered from slavery. But it’s not a comfortable redemption: death surrounds us everywhere we turn.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? As the reality hits home, we laugh at ourselves for such an innocent assumption. We had longed for our freedom, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
But God is wise. Had we known that night what would become of us, we might have chosen to stay in Egypt; we might have chosen death for ourselves.
For close to forty years we have endured hunger, thirst, and great illness. In our anger and confusion we turned our backs on God more than once. But despite our faithlessness, God has been faithful to Israel. He has kept his promise, his covenant. In the fire of our trials and in God’s faithful provision for us, we have learned that redemption is not just physical, but also spiritual.
There is no such thing as redemption easily won. In order for there to be new life, the old life must be left behind. In order for death and the fear of death to be conquered, it must be faced.
One thing we have learned: when you pray for redemption, be careful what you pray for.
Matthew 26:14-35
We arrived in Jerusalem a few days before Passover to celebrate the festival in the Holy City. Like our ancestors before us, we’d travelled a long way. Perhaps not physically, but spiritually. And like our ancestors before us, we had reason to wonder whether we had gone on a futile journey.
The journey wasn’t the one that we originally expected. And now we were deeply sad, bone-weary and more than a little bit frightened. What had begun with so much hope and energy looked like it was going to end in defeat, despair and death.
We remembered that, thousands of years ago, the Angel of Death passed over the homes of our ancestors… Yet, death seemed to be lurking just outside the door that night, biding his time, waiting for the right moment. We could almost see and hear the Angel of Death moving in the night shadows. We prayed fervently that he would pass over our doorpost that evening even as we wondered whether an agent of death might be lurking inside.
Passover – ha! – the festival of redemption. For us, it was looking more like a festival of defeat. Our ancestors might not have known where they were going, but at least they knew that they were escaping slavery, escaping death. It was beginning to look more and more like we had walked right into the jaws of death and would not be able to escape.
It had begun to dawn on us – and we kept pushing the horrible idea from our minds – when Jesus said that he was going to suffer and die, that he actually meant it in a literal way. If ever there was a time for Jesus to proclaim himself as Messiah and call down an army of angels, now was the time. If ever Israel was to be redeemed, now was the time.
As we ate, Jesus picked up the bread and gave thanks, nothing surprising in that. But our breath almost left our bodies as he picked up Elijah’s cup, poured wine and drank from it. He was proclaiming himself Messiah! It was what we’d been waiting for!
Then he told us that the bread was his body and the wine his blood. And we knew. Somehow we just knew.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? As the reality hit home in this terrible moment, we laughed at ourselves for such an innocent assumption. We had longed for our redemption, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
Matthew 26:69-75, 27:1-10
I wonder who it is you identify with in this story? I suspect that most people identify with me – Peter. I reckon that you can imagine what it was like to be in such a position: surrounded by people; not knowing who might be hostile and who might be a friend.
My life might have been in danger; I didn’t know. And so I took the safe route: I denied that I even knew him. Ha! That was a bit of a joke, the servant girl sussed me out right away by my Galilean accent. At the end of the day, there was no hiding who or what I was.
But Jesus forgave me. After his resurrection, he gave me the opportunity to heal. He let me tell him three times that I loved him. That’s what he was like and that’s what being his follower is about: forgiveness.
But what about Judas? You might not feel that you can identify him, but I can. I lived with him for three years: The thirteen of us: we travelled together, ate together, laughed together and cried together. I loved Judas like a brother. We all did. Believe me when I tell you that Judas loved Jesus; he wasn’t so different from the rest of us.
What it was that caused Judas to betray Jesus to the authorities, I don’t know. Perhaps he was disappointed with the course that events were clearly taking. Perhaps he was coerced. Perhaps he was afraid. Whatever it was that caused him to betray Jesus, clearly the whole situation caused him great agony.
The events surrounding Judas’ suicide haunt me even to this day. Because I loved him, I can identify with him. We even heard that Judas repented of his terrible deed. The only difference between him and me is that Judas couldn’t or wouldn’t imagine the possibility that he could be forgiven. And the results were tragic.
Did Jesus have to go to the cross in order that the world can be forgiven? I don’t know.
What I do know is that Jesus submitted himself to the worst that human nature could dish out: Denial. Betrayal. Shame. Humiliation. Rejection. Excruciating Physical pain. And he forgave. Even as he hung on the cross, he forgave.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? We had longed for our redemption, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
===
Exodus 12:14-20, 26-27
Passover. A terrifying night. We’re huddled inside our home, the only home we have ever known. A lamb has been slaughtered; its blood painted on the front door, the body has been roasted and consumed. But we can’t quite believe what’s happening all around us.
It’s the middle of the night, but we’re not asleep in our bed. Our bellies are full – but we wonder how long it will be before they are full again. Because we’re dressed and packed for a long journey: a journey into the unknown.
All around us in the darkness of the night, we hear the screams of our neighbours. And we know that all of the firstborn males – men and boys who we know – have died. The angel of death has mercifully passed over our houses – the houses of Israel – just as Moses and Aaron said he would. But that does not make this night any less terrifying.
This is the day of redemption: the day that Israel will be delivered from slavery. But it’s not a comfortable redemption: death surrounds us everywhere we turn.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? As the reality hits home, we laugh at ourselves for such an innocent assumption. We had longed for our freedom, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
But God is wise. Had we known that night what would become of us, we might have chosen to stay in Egypt; we might have chosen death for ourselves.
For close to forty years we have endured hunger, thirst, and great illness. In our anger and confusion we turned our backs on God more than once. But despite our faithlessness, God has been faithful to Israel. He has kept his promise, his covenant. In the fire of our trials and in God’s faithful provision for us, we have learned that redemption is not just physical, but also spiritual.
There is no such thing as redemption easily won. In order for there to be new life, the old life must be left behind. In order for death and the fear of death to be conquered, it must be faced.
One thing we have learned: when you pray for redemption, be careful what you pray for.
Matthew 26:14-35
We arrived in Jerusalem a few days before Passover to celebrate the festival in the Holy City. Like our ancestors before us, we’d travelled a long way. Perhaps not physically, but spiritually. And like our ancestors before us, we had reason to wonder whether we had gone on a futile journey.
The journey wasn’t the one that we originally expected. And now we were deeply sad, bone-weary and more than a little bit frightened. What had begun with so much hope and energy looked like it was going to end in defeat, despair and death.
We remembered that, thousands of years ago, the Angel of Death passed over the homes of our ancestors… Yet, death seemed to be lurking just outside the door that night, biding his time, waiting for the right moment. We could almost see and hear the Angel of Death moving in the night shadows. We prayed fervently that he would pass over our doorpost that evening even as we wondered whether an agent of death might be lurking inside.
Passover – ha! – the festival of redemption. For us, it was looking more like a festival of defeat. Our ancestors might not have known where they were going, but at least they knew that they were escaping slavery, escaping death. It was beginning to look more and more like we had walked right into the jaws of death and would not be able to escape.
It had begun to dawn on us – and we kept pushing the horrible idea from our minds – when Jesus said that he was going to suffer and die, that he actually meant it in a literal way. If ever there was a time for Jesus to proclaim himself as Messiah and call down an army of angels, now was the time. If ever Israel was to be redeemed, now was the time.
As we ate, Jesus picked up the bread and gave thanks, nothing surprising in that. But our breath almost left our bodies as he picked up Elijah’s cup, poured wine and drank from it. He was proclaiming himself Messiah! It was what we’d been waiting for!
Then he told us that the bread was his body and the wine his blood. And we knew. Somehow we just knew.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? As the reality hit home in this terrible moment, we laughed at ourselves for such an innocent assumption. We had longed for our redemption, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
Matthew 26:69-75, 27:1-10
I wonder who it is you identify with in this story? I suspect that most people identify with me – Peter. I reckon that you can imagine what it was like to be in such a position: surrounded by people; not knowing who might be hostile and who might be a friend.
My life might have been in danger; I didn’t know. And so I took the safe route: I denied that I even knew him. Ha! That was a bit of a joke, the servant girl sussed me out right away by my Galilean accent. At the end of the day, there was no hiding who or what I was.
But Jesus forgave me. After his resurrection, he gave me the opportunity to heal. He let me tell him three times that I loved him. That’s what he was like and that’s what being his follower is about: forgiveness.
But what about Judas? You might not feel that you can identify him, but I can. I lived with him for three years: The thirteen of us: we travelled together, ate together, laughed together and cried together. I loved Judas like a brother. We all did. Believe me when I tell you that Judas loved Jesus; he wasn’t so different from the rest of us.
What it was that caused Judas to betray Jesus to the authorities, I don’t know. Perhaps he was disappointed with the course that events were clearly taking. Perhaps he was coerced. Perhaps he was afraid. Whatever it was that caused him to betray Jesus, clearly the whole situation caused him great agony.
The events surrounding Judas’ suicide haunt me even to this day. Because I loved him, I can identify with him. We even heard that Judas repented of his terrible deed. The only difference between him and me is that Judas couldn’t or wouldn’t imagine the possibility that he could be forgiven. And the results were tragic.
Did Jesus have to go to the cross in order that the world can be forgiven? I don’t know.
What I do know is that Jesus submitted himself to the worst that human nature could dish out: Denial. Betrayal. Shame. Humiliation. Rejection. Excruciating Physical pain. And he forgave. Even as he hung on the cross, he forgave.
Why did we ever think that redemption would be comfortable? We had longed for our redemption, but foolishly we had not imagined that it would come at such a terrible cost.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Sunday 25 November 2007 - Christ the King
This sermon is based on: Luke 23:33-43
===
Introduction
Today we celebrate the festival of Christ the King. But today is also the last Sunday of the Church’s cycle of the seasons. With the coming of Advent next Sunday, a new cycle of festivals and seasons begins and we will prepare ourselves for the coming of the Christ Child, God-with-us in human form.
And so as this old year draws to a close it’s fitting that we end the year by recognising and affirming the Kingship of Christ. And it’s fitting that we acknowledge our belief that he is the one who will rule in the coming Kingdom of God.
The issue I want to explore this morning, however, is what do we mean by the word ‘King’? And what does it mean to acknowledge Christ as our King?
A Royal Figurehead
Queen Elizabeth II is obviously not a King, but her reign probably embodies what it means to be a monarch of a Western country today.
As I’m sure you all know, the Queen and Prince Philip celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary this week,
but the celebration at Westminster Abbey of this partnership between two individuals was nevertheless a public affair because of the identity of the two people involved. As one newscaster put it, the marriage of Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip has been a marriage that has always been punctuated by duty.
There are some people who think that they would fancy such duties as the Queen has, but I’m not one of them as I think that she has a demanding ‘job’. I actually think that she has what I’d call a pastoral role; she may not be a pastor in a church or in a school, but the nation does look to her in times of trouble to visit and encourage people - even if this is in a formal and official capacity.
And so the public admires the Queen - as it admired her parents - for her devotion to duty and her willingness to be among the people and encourage the nation.
And the Kings and Queens of other Western countries: The Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Spain, to name but a few, play a similar role in their own countries, albeit usually on a smaller scale. Although these royals are figureheads, they are nonetheless important figureheads who somehow embody the nation, its existence and its values.
I’m just not sure that our experience of Kings and Queens today is entirely what the early church meant when it talked about the image of Christ as King. Does the celebration of Christ the King bring to your mind a picture of a man remote but mild, dressed in royal finerery, for a state occasion? A figurehead, perhaps. A Head of State, perhaps. But not anyone with significant political power.
The Perils of Power
Ancient kings were certainly not figureheads and, even if they themselves were personally remote from the people, their decisions were anything but remote. Ancient kings may have been either good or bad, but they had power to significantly affect the lives of everyone under their rule.
Perhaps today’s equivalent of an ancient King is a Prime Minister, President or Ruling Political Party. The effects that a bad king could have on his people were significant and life altering.
We have only to look at Zimbabwe today to see one example the devastation that can be caused by a government wielding unfettered power against its citizens. This is a country where anyone who is even remotely suspected of being in opposition to the government is immediately imprisoned. Property is often confiscated and loved ones killed. In the summer of 2005, over 22,000 people in the slums of the capital of Harare were targeted because of their alleged opposition to the government; and people’s homes, communities and livelihoods were destroyed overnight. Today, many of the country’s own citizens do not have the basic necessities of life and South Africa recently reported that Zimbabwean refugees are regularly arriving in South Africa at the point of starvation.
This is an example of the horrible consequence of a modern government using unfettered power selfishly and for its own benefit. This is the kind of power that ancient kings had. They had not only the potential to for good but almost unfettered power to destroy the lives of their subjects.
God’s Reign Begins on the Cross
Scripture and Christian tradition, however, teach that the Kingship of Christ is something different.
Jesus is not a powerless, figurehead King who can only be pastoral. He is a King with real power for good or for evil. But his is also a King who refuses the temptation to enter into the game of Might Makes Right. Christ is King, but he refuses the temptation to play Superman.
When we understand this, we can begin to understand the significance of using Luke’s account of the crucifixion as the Gospel reading for the festival of Christ the King.
To wield unfettered power in the cause of Good was Jesus’ temptation in the desert and it’s the temptation that the unbelieving thief presents to him again in today’s Gospel reading: If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross and save us all. If you are the Son of God, throw yourself from the temple, gain political power and use that power to crush evil.
But Jesus is a King whose reign begins on the cross. And Christians throughout the ages have been forced to grapple with this image of a King who refuses to save himself in the way that we would normally expect: by coming down from the cross.
This image of a dying, defeated King who nonetheless claims victory is a scandalous image and it’s supposed to be a scandal. On this last Sunday in the church year, let’s not skip forward too quickly to Easter Sunday. And let’s not turn the crucifixion into some kind of transaction that is too easily understood as a simple exchange between Jesus and the Father.
Let’s sit for a moment and be confused and outraged by the image of a King who refuses to come down from the cross as we would have him do.
If we turn the story of Jesus into the story of a Superman who eventually does use the method of Might Makes Right to crush evil, we’ve missed the point. The Christian faith affirms the Kingship of Christ in defiance of everything that denies it, including his apparent defeat of the cross.
If we believe in Christ-as-Superman, we will be tempted to say – we would be right to say - ‘There is no God. If there were, where is our Superman God in Zimbabwe? Where is God in Bangladesh? Where is God in my personal suffering?’
But the Christian faith affirms that Christ reigns from the cross. Jesus told the second thief ‘Today you will be with me in paradise’. Joining Jesus had nothing to do with dying. It had everything to do with seeing beyond the appearance of defeat to the truth that somehow God is victorious in the cross.
This is this kind of faith that conquers fear and leads to freedom. This is this kind of faith that gives us the courage to imitate Christ and to live our own lives in the power of the crucifixion.
The Christian faith affirms that Christ on the cross is present in Zimbabwe, that Christ on the cross is present in Bangladesh and that Christ on the cross is present with us in our own personal suffering.
And that’s not meant to be a glib statement. It’s meant to be a troubling statement. It’s meant to provoke at least a little bit of outrage. It’s meant to be a statement of faith.
Conclusion
My prayer is that, as we come before the table of the Lord this morning, we grapple with this troubling, outrageous Christ. The King who gave up his life on the cross, who participates in the suffering of the world and who invites us, by the power of the Spirit, to do the same.
===
Introduction
Today we celebrate the festival of Christ the King. But today is also the last Sunday of the Church’s cycle of the seasons. With the coming of Advent next Sunday, a new cycle of festivals and seasons begins and we will prepare ourselves for the coming of the Christ Child, God-with-us in human form.
And so as this old year draws to a close it’s fitting that we end the year by recognising and affirming the Kingship of Christ. And it’s fitting that we acknowledge our belief that he is the one who will rule in the coming Kingdom of God.
The issue I want to explore this morning, however, is what do we mean by the word ‘King’? And what does it mean to acknowledge Christ as our King?
A Royal Figurehead
Queen Elizabeth II is obviously not a King, but her reign probably embodies what it means to be a monarch of a Western country today.
As I’m sure you all know, the Queen and Prince Philip celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary this week,
but the celebration at Westminster Abbey of this partnership between two individuals was nevertheless a public affair because of the identity of the two people involved. As one newscaster put it, the marriage of Queen Elizabeth and Prince Philip has been a marriage that has always been punctuated by duty.
There are some people who think that they would fancy such duties as the Queen has, but I’m not one of them as I think that she has a demanding ‘job’. I actually think that she has what I’d call a pastoral role; she may not be a pastor in a church or in a school, but the nation does look to her in times of trouble to visit and encourage people - even if this is in a formal and official capacity.
And so the public admires the Queen - as it admired her parents - for her devotion to duty and her willingness to be among the people and encourage the nation.
And the Kings and Queens of other Western countries: The Netherlands, Denmark, Sweden, Spain, to name but a few, play a similar role in their own countries, albeit usually on a smaller scale. Although these royals are figureheads, they are nonetheless important figureheads who somehow embody the nation, its existence and its values.
I’m just not sure that our experience of Kings and Queens today is entirely what the early church meant when it talked about the image of Christ as King. Does the celebration of Christ the King bring to your mind a picture of a man remote but mild, dressed in royal finerery, for a state occasion? A figurehead, perhaps. A Head of State, perhaps. But not anyone with significant political power.
The Perils of Power
Ancient kings were certainly not figureheads and, even if they themselves were personally remote from the people, their decisions were anything but remote. Ancient kings may have been either good or bad, but they had power to significantly affect the lives of everyone under their rule.
Perhaps today’s equivalent of an ancient King is a Prime Minister, President or Ruling Political Party. The effects that a bad king could have on his people were significant and life altering.
We have only to look at Zimbabwe today to see one example the devastation that can be caused by a government wielding unfettered power against its citizens. This is a country where anyone who is even remotely suspected of being in opposition to the government is immediately imprisoned. Property is often confiscated and loved ones killed. In the summer of 2005, over 22,000 people in the slums of the capital of Harare were targeted because of their alleged opposition to the government; and people’s homes, communities and livelihoods were destroyed overnight. Today, many of the country’s own citizens do not have the basic necessities of life and South Africa recently reported that Zimbabwean refugees are regularly arriving in South Africa at the point of starvation.
This is an example of the horrible consequence of a modern government using unfettered power selfishly and for its own benefit. This is the kind of power that ancient kings had. They had not only the potential to for good but almost unfettered power to destroy the lives of their subjects.
God’s Reign Begins on the Cross
Scripture and Christian tradition, however, teach that the Kingship of Christ is something different.
Jesus is not a powerless, figurehead King who can only be pastoral. He is a King with real power for good or for evil. But his is also a King who refuses the temptation to enter into the game of Might Makes Right. Christ is King, but he refuses the temptation to play Superman.
When we understand this, we can begin to understand the significance of using Luke’s account of the crucifixion as the Gospel reading for the festival of Christ the King.
To wield unfettered power in the cause of Good was Jesus’ temptation in the desert and it’s the temptation that the unbelieving thief presents to him again in today’s Gospel reading: If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross and save us all. If you are the Son of God, throw yourself from the temple, gain political power and use that power to crush evil.
But Jesus is a King whose reign begins on the cross. And Christians throughout the ages have been forced to grapple with this image of a King who refuses to save himself in the way that we would normally expect: by coming down from the cross.
This image of a dying, defeated King who nonetheless claims victory is a scandalous image and it’s supposed to be a scandal. On this last Sunday in the church year, let’s not skip forward too quickly to Easter Sunday. And let’s not turn the crucifixion into some kind of transaction that is too easily understood as a simple exchange between Jesus and the Father.
Let’s sit for a moment and be confused and outraged by the image of a King who refuses to come down from the cross as we would have him do.
If we turn the story of Jesus into the story of a Superman who eventually does use the method of Might Makes Right to crush evil, we’ve missed the point. The Christian faith affirms the Kingship of Christ in defiance of everything that denies it, including his apparent defeat of the cross.
If we believe in Christ-as-Superman, we will be tempted to say – we would be right to say - ‘There is no God. If there were, where is our Superman God in Zimbabwe? Where is God in Bangladesh? Where is God in my personal suffering?’
But the Christian faith affirms that Christ reigns from the cross. Jesus told the second thief ‘Today you will be with me in paradise’. Joining Jesus had nothing to do with dying. It had everything to do with seeing beyond the appearance of defeat to the truth that somehow God is victorious in the cross.
This is this kind of faith that conquers fear and leads to freedom. This is this kind of faith that gives us the courage to imitate Christ and to live our own lives in the power of the crucifixion.
The Christian faith affirms that Christ on the cross is present in Zimbabwe, that Christ on the cross is present in Bangladesh and that Christ on the cross is present with us in our own personal suffering.
And that’s not meant to be a glib statement. It’s meant to be a troubling statement. It’s meant to provoke at least a little bit of outrage. It’s meant to be a statement of faith.
Conclusion
My prayer is that, as we come before the table of the Lord this morning, we grapple with this troubling, outrageous Christ. The King who gave up his life on the cross, who participates in the suffering of the world and who invites us, by the power of the Spirit, to do the same.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Sunday 9 September 2007 - Take Up Your Cross
The sermon below is based on Luke 14:25-33 with a short reference to the Old Testament reading, Jeremiah 18:1-11.
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A Warning
The heading in my bible pretty well sums up the message in this morning’s Gospel reading. The heading is: ‘The Cost of Discipleship’.
Imagine a politician campaigning for office[1] who gets up at the rostrum and tells his or her expectant listeners: ‘Vote for me and your life will be more difficult than it is now. If I’m elected, there will be sacrifices to make. You may lose your homes and your family.’ I wonder what the reaction would be to such a campaign speech? I actually doubt that the reaction would be booing or jeering because I reckon that it’s quite possible that the crowd might be stunned into silence. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you expect to hear from a politician.
But the thing is, today’s Gospel reading is not a campaign speech and it’s not a recruitment speech. Jesus isn’t trying to convince people to follow him. On the contrary, Jesus is addressing a crowd of admirers who are more than eager – at least they think that they are eager – to become his disciples.
And Jesus is trying to give them an informed picture of what exactly is involved in following him. Rather than thinking of him as a politician campaigning for office, it might be more accurate to think of Jesus as a mountain guide, leading an expedition through the mountains to bring life-saving supplies to a remote village. Jesus is not threatening us, but simply informing us of the very real costs of being his disciples.
And what is the cost of being a disciple of Jesus? At least according to this passage in Luke? The cost is that we are called to prefer the way of Jesus to the way of the world. If circumstances require it, Jesus is exhorting us to bear our own cross for the sake of his name.
Hate Your Family?
Before we go any further, I want to take a side-track for a minute and focus on verse 26, where my text reads (NRSV) ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.’
I think that we need to understand the word ‘hate’ the way that Jesus’ hearers would have done. There was a Jewish expression that went: ‘I love A and I hate B’. It was a way of expressing a strong preference. So, if you were to say ‘I love the Japanese and I hate the Chinese’, it wouldn’t mean ‘Every time I meet a Chinese person, I become filled with fury and upset and it’s just about all I can to do keep from punching that person the face.’ The expression would have meant something more like ‘I have a strong preference for Japanese people over Chinese people.’
So, I want to caution us against thinking that Jesus wants us to hate the members of our family. Such a message does not make sense in the light of Great Commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves nor does it make sense in the light of the commandment to honour our fathers and our mothers.
Bearing Our Crosses
The warning that we are being given from Jesus – our guide who is leading us across a perilous mountain path so that we can bring necessary aid to a suffering world – is that his disciples are to be willing to give up the comforts of this world, our families and our possessions, if we are called upon to do so for the sake of the gospel.
More specifically, we are called to bear the crosses that we are given.
As I think I’ve said before, the biblical concept of ‘bearing our cross’ is about what we are willing to do for the sake of Christ and for the sake of being true to the Gospel. In the bible, the concept of ‘bearing our cross’ does not refer to persevering in the face of illness or tragedy, even if we use the expression in this way today.
It is about sitting lightly to the values of this world in order that all our focus may be on the values of the Kingdom of God. We can certainly enjoy all the blessings that God has given us, but we are to understand that these are not ends in themselves. Christ asks us to be willing to let go of them for his sake, if we are called to do so.
But for many of us, this is not the message that we want hear and it’s not the kind of God we want. God calls us to trust in him to guide us to stand up for Kingdom values, but if we’re honest with ourselves, what we want is a magical magician God who will sort things out for us.
And so some people in our culture protest: There cannot be a good God because otherwise, innocent children would not die. They say that if they cannot have the God with the magic wand who spares all innocent children from injury and destruction, then they are not prepared to believe in God at all.
But Christians are guilty of wanting to believe in the Magical God myth as well. In one version of this myth we declare that God will give his followers status, wealth and prosperity in this world on the condition that we ‘have enough faith’. Or another, subtler version of this is to turn our Christian faith into a transaction where we exchange our conversion for an admission ticket into heaven.
But in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is telling us that being a Christian is not about believing in a Magical God. And that being his disciple is not just about some sort of transaction that lets us into heaven. Jesus is telling us that being his disciple might possibly involve turning our backs on the values of our society and choosing to bear a cross for his sake.
We are not going to get our magical God; but we will be called to bear a cross. Every Christian is called to make choices between following the ways of this world and following the ways of God.
In some countries, being a Christian can very literally put your life in danger. In our culture, being a Christian means being called to use our time, energy and money for goals that are different from those of the world. We are stewards of our resources and our goal is the Kingdom of God where justice and righteousness reign. Christians are not meant to use the precious resources we have been given by God for our own fame, fortune or security.
Imitate Jesus
The images used in the rest of this morning’s gospel readings are interesting ones.
Who would build a tower without a proper foundation? The same people, perhaps, who would build a temple as a focus of national pride but where the true worship of God was absent?
What kind of king would prepare for war without considering whether or not he could win the war? The same kind of king who thought that the war that the Messiah was to fight would be a war against the Romans rather than a war against the forces of Evil?
Who would think that following Jesus meant getting on the bandwagon of the conquering Messiah for an easy ride into the Kingdom of God? Who would think that following the Messiah meant fame, fortune and security? Well, probably the crowd of people who were following Jesus. After all, he had to warn them that being his disciple was difficult rather than easy.
These people probably didn’t want to follow Jesus in order to give anything up. The wanted to follow Jesus in order to enjoy what they had and to get more. (Unlike us, of course!) And Jesus is warning them (and us): being his disciple is not like joining a pleasant hike on a rolling hillside on a sunny summer afternoon. To be his disciple is to be called to navigate dangerous mountain paths in order to bring needed medicine to the world.
To be a disciple of Jesus is to be called to imitate Jesus.
To imitate Jesus is to proclaim the love of God to those who are not respectable and to associate with people who others will not associate with. To imitate Jesus is to proclaim God’s message of justice to people who have enough power to destroy us. To imitate Jesus is visit those who are sick and in prison.
All of this is difficult work. All of it is costly. But Jesus told us that to follow him is to bear our cross.
He also told us that we were not capable of doing this on our own but that he would send us the Holy Spirit to help us to imitate him. Using Jeremiah’s image, God will form us into the kind of vessels he wants us to be if we will let him.
When we get it wrong – as we all will from time to time – God will not dispose of the clay, but will continue to work to reshape us until we become the creations that he wants us to be.
Conclusion
In a few minutes, we will come to the table of the Lord, a physical sign and symbol of the Kingdom of God on earth where Jesus promised to be present among us. In the prayer called the Great Thanksgiving which we pray before receiving communion, we remember Christ’s sacrifice for us on the cross.
We remember that, before sacrificing himself for us, Jesus promised to meet our own weakness, pain and suffering with his presence. We remember that Christ is here and that his Spirit is always with us.
As we come to his communion table, I pray that each one of us will ask Jesus to shape us as according to his will. And I pray that we will each be strengthened for the journey as we meet our risen Lord. Amen
----
[1] Illustrations of the politician and the mountain guide taken from: Wright, Tom; Luke for Everyone; SPCK, London 2001. p. 180.
=====
A Warning
The heading in my bible pretty well sums up the message in this morning’s Gospel reading. The heading is: ‘The Cost of Discipleship’.
Imagine a politician campaigning for office[1] who gets up at the rostrum and tells his or her expectant listeners: ‘Vote for me and your life will be more difficult than it is now. If I’m elected, there will be sacrifices to make. You may lose your homes and your family.’ I wonder what the reaction would be to such a campaign speech? I actually doubt that the reaction would be booing or jeering because I reckon that it’s quite possible that the crowd might be stunned into silence. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you expect to hear from a politician.
But the thing is, today’s Gospel reading is not a campaign speech and it’s not a recruitment speech. Jesus isn’t trying to convince people to follow him. On the contrary, Jesus is addressing a crowd of admirers who are more than eager – at least they think that they are eager – to become his disciples.
And Jesus is trying to give them an informed picture of what exactly is involved in following him. Rather than thinking of him as a politician campaigning for office, it might be more accurate to think of Jesus as a mountain guide, leading an expedition through the mountains to bring life-saving supplies to a remote village. Jesus is not threatening us, but simply informing us of the very real costs of being his disciples.
And what is the cost of being a disciple of Jesus? At least according to this passage in Luke? The cost is that we are called to prefer the way of Jesus to the way of the world. If circumstances require it, Jesus is exhorting us to bear our own cross for the sake of his name.
Hate Your Family?
Before we go any further, I want to take a side-track for a minute and focus on verse 26, where my text reads (NRSV) ‘Whoever comes to me and does not hate father and mother, wife and children, brothers and sisters, yes, and even life itself, cannot be my disciple.’
I think that we need to understand the word ‘hate’ the way that Jesus’ hearers would have done. There was a Jewish expression that went: ‘I love A and I hate B’. It was a way of expressing a strong preference. So, if you were to say ‘I love the Japanese and I hate the Chinese’, it wouldn’t mean ‘Every time I meet a Chinese person, I become filled with fury and upset and it’s just about all I can to do keep from punching that person the face.’ The expression would have meant something more like ‘I have a strong preference for Japanese people over Chinese people.’
So, I want to caution us against thinking that Jesus wants us to hate the members of our family. Such a message does not make sense in the light of Great Commandment to love our neighbour as ourselves nor does it make sense in the light of the commandment to honour our fathers and our mothers.
Bearing Our Crosses
The warning that we are being given from Jesus – our guide who is leading us across a perilous mountain path so that we can bring necessary aid to a suffering world – is that his disciples are to be willing to give up the comforts of this world, our families and our possessions, if we are called upon to do so for the sake of the gospel.
More specifically, we are called to bear the crosses that we are given.
As I think I’ve said before, the biblical concept of ‘bearing our cross’ is about what we are willing to do for the sake of Christ and for the sake of being true to the Gospel. In the bible, the concept of ‘bearing our cross’ does not refer to persevering in the face of illness or tragedy, even if we use the expression in this way today.
It is about sitting lightly to the values of this world in order that all our focus may be on the values of the Kingdom of God. We can certainly enjoy all the blessings that God has given us, but we are to understand that these are not ends in themselves. Christ asks us to be willing to let go of them for his sake, if we are called to do so.
But for many of us, this is not the message that we want hear and it’s not the kind of God we want. God calls us to trust in him to guide us to stand up for Kingdom values, but if we’re honest with ourselves, what we want is a magical magician God who will sort things out for us.
And so some people in our culture protest: There cannot be a good God because otherwise, innocent children would not die. They say that if they cannot have the God with the magic wand who spares all innocent children from injury and destruction, then they are not prepared to believe in God at all.
But Christians are guilty of wanting to believe in the Magical God myth as well. In one version of this myth we declare that God will give his followers status, wealth and prosperity in this world on the condition that we ‘have enough faith’. Or another, subtler version of this is to turn our Christian faith into a transaction where we exchange our conversion for an admission ticket into heaven.
But in today’s Gospel reading, Jesus is telling us that being a Christian is not about believing in a Magical God. And that being his disciple is not just about some sort of transaction that lets us into heaven. Jesus is telling us that being his disciple might possibly involve turning our backs on the values of our society and choosing to bear a cross for his sake.
We are not going to get our magical God; but we will be called to bear a cross. Every Christian is called to make choices between following the ways of this world and following the ways of God.
In some countries, being a Christian can very literally put your life in danger. In our culture, being a Christian means being called to use our time, energy and money for goals that are different from those of the world. We are stewards of our resources and our goal is the Kingdom of God where justice and righteousness reign. Christians are not meant to use the precious resources we have been given by God for our own fame, fortune or security.
Imitate Jesus
The images used in the rest of this morning’s gospel readings are interesting ones.
Who would build a tower without a proper foundation? The same people, perhaps, who would build a temple as a focus of national pride but where the true worship of God was absent?
What kind of king would prepare for war without considering whether or not he could win the war? The same kind of king who thought that the war that the Messiah was to fight would be a war against the Romans rather than a war against the forces of Evil?
Who would think that following Jesus meant getting on the bandwagon of the conquering Messiah for an easy ride into the Kingdom of God? Who would think that following the Messiah meant fame, fortune and security? Well, probably the crowd of people who were following Jesus. After all, he had to warn them that being his disciple was difficult rather than easy.
These people probably didn’t want to follow Jesus in order to give anything up. The wanted to follow Jesus in order to enjoy what they had and to get more. (Unlike us, of course!) And Jesus is warning them (and us): being his disciple is not like joining a pleasant hike on a rolling hillside on a sunny summer afternoon. To be his disciple is to be called to navigate dangerous mountain paths in order to bring needed medicine to the world.
To be a disciple of Jesus is to be called to imitate Jesus.
To imitate Jesus is to proclaim the love of God to those who are not respectable and to associate with people who others will not associate with. To imitate Jesus is to proclaim God’s message of justice to people who have enough power to destroy us. To imitate Jesus is visit those who are sick and in prison.
All of this is difficult work. All of it is costly. But Jesus told us that to follow him is to bear our cross.
He also told us that we were not capable of doing this on our own but that he would send us the Holy Spirit to help us to imitate him. Using Jeremiah’s image, God will form us into the kind of vessels he wants us to be if we will let him.
When we get it wrong – as we all will from time to time – God will not dispose of the clay, but will continue to work to reshape us until we become the creations that he wants us to be.
Conclusion
In a few minutes, we will come to the table of the Lord, a physical sign and symbol of the Kingdom of God on earth where Jesus promised to be present among us. In the prayer called the Great Thanksgiving which we pray before receiving communion, we remember Christ’s sacrifice for us on the cross.
We remember that, before sacrificing himself for us, Jesus promised to meet our own weakness, pain and suffering with his presence. We remember that Christ is here and that his Spirit is always with us.
As we come to his communion table, I pray that each one of us will ask Jesus to shape us as according to his will. And I pray that we will each be strengthened for the journey as we meet our risen Lord. Amen
----
[1] Illustrations of the politician and the mountain guide taken from: Wright, Tom; Luke for Everyone; SPCK, London 2001. p. 180.
Friday, April 06, 2007
Friday 6th April - Good Friday Meditation
This sermon is based on Luke 23:44-47. The Christian churches in the town have got together and there is going to be a walk of witness with each church doing a portion of the passion narrative.
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“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
These are Jesus’ final words as reported in the Gospel of Luke and they echo the words of Psalm 31:5 “Into your hand I commit my spirit; You have redeemed me, oh Lord, faithful God.”
But listen to the words of Deuteronomy 21:22-23 “When someone is convicted of a crime punishable by death and is executed, and you hang him on a tree, his corpse must not remain all night upon the tree; you shall bury him that same day, for anyone hung on a tree is under God's curse.”
In order to understand what is going on in Luke’s Gospel story, we need to understand that – from the point of view of the religious establishment – Jesus has absolutely no business at all commending himself into the hands of God at the moment of his death. A commendation into the hands of God at Jesus’ funeral should have properly been the business of a rabbi.
But the religious establishment had turned its back on Jesus and no rabbi or other religious official was present at the hour of Jesus death to offer this commendation. Jesus was a cursed man and therefore compelled to make such a prayer for himself.
The received religious tradition as expressed in Deuteronomy pronounced Jesus guilty and it was it up to an outsider – a Roman soldier – to perceive Jesus’ innocence.
Most of us are probably so used to hearing this story that we fail to hear how truly outrageous it is. And one thing that we must not do is turn this into a story about Jews and Gentiles; to do so would be both anti-Semitic and incorrect about what is going on. In this story, we are not to put ourselves in the place of the one person who saw Jesus as innocent. We – you and I – are the people who found Jesus guilty and crucified him.
So, this afternoon, let us hear clearly the scandal of cross.
Get away from this mindset that we would have known that Jesus was innocent. We would not have known that. We would have been certain – absolutely 100% certain – that Jesus was a dangerous religious fanatic.
We would have been more certain than we ever had been about anything in our lives that Jesus had to be executed as soon as possible.
Even those individuals among us who have a general inclination to mercy would have understood that it is better to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.
Let us be clear that we would have been certain that this religious fanatic, this delusional Messiah had absolutely no right whatsoever to call upon the name of our God. He had no right to commend his spirit into the hands of that God. And he most certainly had no right to call God by the name of “Father”.
But precisely what he did was to call upon God as his Father.
Before Jesus uttered these words, it appeared to everyone present they had been effective in denying him access to God. In speaking these words of commendation, Jesus shifted the entire context of his death.
This was not a man being executed for crimes he had committed. This was not a man whose life was being taken from him in the name of justice. This was a man, fully human and fully divine, who was freely giving up his life in order to forgive those who had condemned him to death. You cannot take from someone that which is freely given.
Jesus said: “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit”. In doing so, he redefined what was going on. And everything – absolutely everything – was turned upside down.
There was darkness and there was a rip and the very fabric of creation was torn in two. For he who is at the centre of all creation died and his death changed everything. Everything old has passed away and everything has become new.
What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
====
“Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”
These are Jesus’ final words as reported in the Gospel of Luke and they echo the words of Psalm 31:5 “Into your hand I commit my spirit; You have redeemed me, oh Lord, faithful God.”
But listen to the words of Deuteronomy 21:22-23 “When someone is convicted of a crime punishable by death and is executed, and you hang him on a tree, his corpse must not remain all night upon the tree; you shall bury him that same day, for anyone hung on a tree is under God's curse.”
In order to understand what is going on in Luke’s Gospel story, we need to understand that – from the point of view of the religious establishment – Jesus has absolutely no business at all commending himself into the hands of God at the moment of his death. A commendation into the hands of God at Jesus’ funeral should have properly been the business of a rabbi.
But the religious establishment had turned its back on Jesus and no rabbi or other religious official was present at the hour of Jesus death to offer this commendation. Jesus was a cursed man and therefore compelled to make such a prayer for himself.
The received religious tradition as expressed in Deuteronomy pronounced Jesus guilty and it was it up to an outsider – a Roman soldier – to perceive Jesus’ innocence.
Most of us are probably so used to hearing this story that we fail to hear how truly outrageous it is. And one thing that we must not do is turn this into a story about Jews and Gentiles; to do so would be both anti-Semitic and incorrect about what is going on. In this story, we are not to put ourselves in the place of the one person who saw Jesus as innocent. We – you and I – are the people who found Jesus guilty and crucified him.
So, this afternoon, let us hear clearly the scandal of cross.
Get away from this mindset that we would have known that Jesus was innocent. We would not have known that. We would have been certain – absolutely 100% certain – that Jesus was a dangerous religious fanatic.
We would have been more certain than we ever had been about anything in our lives that Jesus had to be executed as soon as possible.
Even those individuals among us who have a general inclination to mercy would have understood that it is better to have one man die for the people than to have the whole nation destroyed.
Let us be clear that we would have been certain that this religious fanatic, this delusional Messiah had absolutely no right whatsoever to call upon the name of our God. He had no right to commend his spirit into the hands of that God. And he most certainly had no right to call God by the name of “Father”.
But precisely what he did was to call upon God as his Father.
Before Jesus uttered these words, it appeared to everyone present they had been effective in denying him access to God. In speaking these words of commendation, Jesus shifted the entire context of his death.
This was not a man being executed for crimes he had committed. This was not a man whose life was being taken from him in the name of justice. This was a man, fully human and fully divine, who was freely giving up his life in order to forgive those who had condemned him to death. You cannot take from someone that which is freely given.
Jesus said: “Father, into your hands I commend my Spirit”. In doing so, he redefined what was going on. And everything – absolutely everything – was turned upside down.
There was darkness and there was a rip and the very fabric of creation was torn in two. For he who is at the centre of all creation died and his death changed everything. Everything old has passed away and everything has become new.
What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.
Thursday 5th April 2007 - Maundy Thursday
This sermon is based on John 13:1-7, 31b-35.
===
The Suffering Servant
It was the night before the crucifixion. The Nth hour. The last meal that Jesus would have with his closest disciples. And the disciples still didn’t get it.
For some time now, Jesus had been telling the twelve that the Messiah was going to have to die. Jesus was not going to be the conquering hero Messiah that so many people had expected. Jesus was going to be the Suffering Servant Messiah. But the disciples still didn’t get it.
On this evening, Judas would leave the company of his closest companions in order to hand Jesus over to the authorities. We don’t really know why Judas betrayed Jesus. His motives are not directly recorded in any Gospel. But I wonder if Judas had hoped to force Jesus’ hand. I wonder if Judas reckoned that, confronted with a situation where they had to fight or die, Jesus would be forced to defend himself and, in the process, become a military Messiah.
I don’t think for one moment that Judas counted on Jesus actively choosing to die.
And then there is Peter. “Never at any time will you wash my feet!” Peter said to Jesus. Peter didn’t seem to want a suffering servant for a Messiah either Or maybe this simply wasn’t even a model of Messiahship that he was able to grasp. After all, Jesus said that Peter wouldn’t actually understand the foot-washing until “later”. Until after Jesus’ resurrection.
Judas and Peter still didn’t get it.
The thing is, if you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
Servanthood, not Heroics
There are a number of ways to look at this story if you are a preacher.
The first way is to look at this story as being about how Christian leaders should be servants in their communities and then to elaborate on servant leadership. This way of reading the story comes with a time-honoured Maundy Thursday liturgy where the priest or bishop washes the feet of the congregation.
The second way to look at this story is to concentrate on the new commandment at the end of the reading. We could elaborate on how Jesus commanded us to love others as he has loved us.
But these are not new teachings and they are not unique to this last day in Jesus’ life.
Over and over in the Gospels we have heard that the last will be first and the first will be last. Over and over in the Gospels we have heard that we are to love others as God has loved us. It’s partly because I feel like I’ve bored for England over the last seven months on these two topics that I’ve chosen not to elaborate on them tonight!
For me, I think that it’s interesting that John uses the story of the foot-washing in place of the story of the Last Supper. I don’t think it’s because John does not value the story or the practise of the Lord’s Supper. After all, this is the evangelist who takes pains to tell us that Jesus is the Bread of Life and the True Vine.
My suspicion is that John tells us this story in order emphasise that Jesus’ ministry is one of servanthood and that it’s not about being a conquering hero. I think it’s because John wants to emphasise to us that following in the way of Jesus means following a path where all our worldly values are turned upside down.
If you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
Jesus' Death is Central
There is “something” about Jesus’ servanthood and his dying that is vitally important to the Good News of the Gospel. As human beings, the faithful people of the Church Universal have struggled for centuries to express this “something”: Jesus’ death paid a debt that our sin got us into, Jesus’ death was a victory over sin, Jesus’ death set a moral example, Jesus’ death was the complete and final temple sacrifice.
All these are ways of trying to express something inexpressible: that there is “something” about Jesus’ death that brought salvation into the world. There is something about his death that changed the fabric of existence for all eternity.
Jesus’ eleven closest disciples on earth would not understand – could not understand – the centrality of Jesus’ death until after his resurrection.
But however familiar we are with the concept that “Jesus died for our sins”, it is vitally important to grasp what a scandal his death was. It is vitally important to grasp what a scandal his servanthood was. It is vitally important to understand that The Way of Jesus turns reality-as-the-world-knows-it upside down.
But, if you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
There is a part of us that – like Simon Peter – does not want a servant saviour. We want a strong saviour. If not a saviour who kills his enemies, then at the very least a saviour who tells them off and punishes them. We want a God who applauds when we cut off the ear of his enemies, not a God who heals those whom our sword has wounded. We want a God who punishes his enemies and who lets us off the hook, a God who brings justice to his enemies and grace and mercy to us.
What we don’t want is a God who kneels at the feet of the both the guilty and the innocent and washes them.
But if we are going to have a relationship with Jesus, we have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
===
The Suffering Servant
It was the night before the crucifixion. The Nth hour. The last meal that Jesus would have with his closest disciples. And the disciples still didn’t get it.
For some time now, Jesus had been telling the twelve that the Messiah was going to have to die. Jesus was not going to be the conquering hero Messiah that so many people had expected. Jesus was going to be the Suffering Servant Messiah. But the disciples still didn’t get it.
On this evening, Judas would leave the company of his closest companions in order to hand Jesus over to the authorities. We don’t really know why Judas betrayed Jesus. His motives are not directly recorded in any Gospel. But I wonder if Judas had hoped to force Jesus’ hand. I wonder if Judas reckoned that, confronted with a situation where they had to fight or die, Jesus would be forced to defend himself and, in the process, become a military Messiah.
I don’t think for one moment that Judas counted on Jesus actively choosing to die.
And then there is Peter. “Never at any time will you wash my feet!” Peter said to Jesus. Peter didn’t seem to want a suffering servant for a Messiah either Or maybe this simply wasn’t even a model of Messiahship that he was able to grasp. After all, Jesus said that Peter wouldn’t actually understand the foot-washing until “later”. Until after Jesus’ resurrection.
Judas and Peter still didn’t get it.
The thing is, if you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
Servanthood, not Heroics
There are a number of ways to look at this story if you are a preacher.
The first way is to look at this story as being about how Christian leaders should be servants in their communities and then to elaborate on servant leadership. This way of reading the story comes with a time-honoured Maundy Thursday liturgy where the priest or bishop washes the feet of the congregation.
The second way to look at this story is to concentrate on the new commandment at the end of the reading. We could elaborate on how Jesus commanded us to love others as he has loved us.
But these are not new teachings and they are not unique to this last day in Jesus’ life.
Over and over in the Gospels we have heard that the last will be first and the first will be last. Over and over in the Gospels we have heard that we are to love others as God has loved us. It’s partly because I feel like I’ve bored for England over the last seven months on these two topics that I’ve chosen not to elaborate on them tonight!
For me, I think that it’s interesting that John uses the story of the foot-washing in place of the story of the Last Supper. I don’t think it’s because John does not value the story or the practise of the Lord’s Supper. After all, this is the evangelist who takes pains to tell us that Jesus is the Bread of Life and the True Vine.
My suspicion is that John tells us this story in order emphasise that Jesus’ ministry is one of servanthood and that it’s not about being a conquering hero. I think it’s because John wants to emphasise to us that following in the way of Jesus means following a path where all our worldly values are turned upside down.
If you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
Jesus' Death is Central
There is “something” about Jesus’ servanthood and his dying that is vitally important to the Good News of the Gospel. As human beings, the faithful people of the Church Universal have struggled for centuries to express this “something”: Jesus’ death paid a debt that our sin got us into, Jesus’ death was a victory over sin, Jesus’ death set a moral example, Jesus’ death was the complete and final temple sacrifice.
All these are ways of trying to express something inexpressible: that there is “something” about Jesus’ death that brought salvation into the world. There is something about his death that changed the fabric of existence for all eternity.
Jesus’ eleven closest disciples on earth would not understand – could not understand – the centrality of Jesus’ death until after his resurrection.
But however familiar we are with the concept that “Jesus died for our sins”, it is vitally important to grasp what a scandal his death was. It is vitally important to grasp what a scandal his servanthood was. It is vitally important to understand that The Way of Jesus turns reality-as-the-world-knows-it upside down.
But, if you are going to have a relationship with Jesus, you have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
There is a part of us that – like Simon Peter – does not want a servant saviour. We want a strong saviour. If not a saviour who kills his enemies, then at the very least a saviour who tells them off and punishes them. We want a God who applauds when we cut off the ear of his enemies, not a God who heals those whom our sword has wounded. We want a God who punishes his enemies and who lets us off the hook, a God who brings justice to his enemies and grace and mercy to us.
What we don’t want is a God who kneels at the feet of the both the guilty and the innocent and washes them.
But if we are going to have a relationship with Jesus, we have to be prepared for him to do things his way.
Monday, April 02, 2007
Wednesday 4 April 2007 - Wednesday of Holy Week
This is a very short meditation for based on the lectionary reading John 13:21-32. The context is a communion service with an afternoon fellowship group.
===
The one who is to hand Jesus over to the authorities is the one to whom Jesus gives the bread that he dipped in the dish.
Why did Judas hand Jesus over the authorities? Well, nowhere in the Gospel do we have any information about why Judas did what he did. There is some hint in scripture that perhaps he did it for money. Other people speculate that Judas wanted to force Jesus’ hand to become the political Messiah that so many people wanted. But the Gospels don’t give us any kind of a definitive answer as to Judas’ motivation.
I don’t know, but I am of the school that thinks that the reason that Judas handed Jesus over to the authorities was because he thought that he would force Jesus’ hand. I reckon that Judas thought that Jesus was being ineffectual and that Jesus’ mission needed to take on some kind of meaning. And I reckon that Judas thought that, through his action, the meaning of Jesus’ mission would be revealed.
Of course, the meaning of Jesus’ mission was revealed, but not in the way that I think Judas hoped.
I think that Judas understood that Jesus’ choice was either to stand up to the Romans or to die. The one thing that he didn’t reckon on was that Jesus would choose to die.
To see Judas as some kind of super-villain is to misunderstand who he was. Judas was nothing more than one of the group.
It’s easy to misunderstand who Judas was when we read that ‘Satan’ entered into him. It’s easy to cast Judas in the role of super-villain when we read words like that. But ‘Satan’ means ‘the accuser’. I don’t think that we are to understand here that Judas suddenly became demon-possessed and filled with some kind of extraordinary evil. I think that this was simply a man who had his own ideas and ambitions about what Jesus’ Messiahship was about. This was simply a man who thought that he knew better than God how God’s purposes were to be fulfilled.
I say ‘simply’ because, of course, we all do this.
The one who is to hand Jesus over to the authorities is the one to whom Jesus gives the bread that he dipped in the dish. But, of course, Judas was not the only disciple to whom Jesus gave the bread of friendship that night. Judas was not the only disciple whose feet Jesus washed that night.
Who is going to betray Jesus? One of us. Each of us. We are each guilty of thinking that we know better than God how his purposes are to be fulfilled. We can’t help it – this is part of our human condition. Judas is not a super-villain, he is an ordinary human being. One of us.
So where is the good news?
The good news is that Jesus chose the cross. He chose the path of forgiveness rather than the path of vengeance. And in doing so, he brought salvation into the world. In choosing the cross, he also demonstrated to us that even while we were still sinners, he died for us.
I believe firmly that Jesus’ forgiveness was available to Judas, although Judas could not see it. The good news is that no matter what we do, God’s forgiveness is always available to us. The good news is that we are forgiven sinners.
Amen
===
The one who is to hand Jesus over to the authorities is the one to whom Jesus gives the bread that he dipped in the dish.
Why did Judas hand Jesus over the authorities? Well, nowhere in the Gospel do we have any information about why Judas did what he did. There is some hint in scripture that perhaps he did it for money. Other people speculate that Judas wanted to force Jesus’ hand to become the political Messiah that so many people wanted. But the Gospels don’t give us any kind of a definitive answer as to Judas’ motivation.
I don’t know, but I am of the school that thinks that the reason that Judas handed Jesus over to the authorities was because he thought that he would force Jesus’ hand. I reckon that Judas thought that Jesus was being ineffectual and that Jesus’ mission needed to take on some kind of meaning. And I reckon that Judas thought that, through his action, the meaning of Jesus’ mission would be revealed.
Of course, the meaning of Jesus’ mission was revealed, but not in the way that I think Judas hoped.
I think that Judas understood that Jesus’ choice was either to stand up to the Romans or to die. The one thing that he didn’t reckon on was that Jesus would choose to die.
To see Judas as some kind of super-villain is to misunderstand who he was. Judas was nothing more than one of the group.
It’s easy to misunderstand who Judas was when we read that ‘Satan’ entered into him. It’s easy to cast Judas in the role of super-villain when we read words like that. But ‘Satan’ means ‘the accuser’. I don’t think that we are to understand here that Judas suddenly became demon-possessed and filled with some kind of extraordinary evil. I think that this was simply a man who had his own ideas and ambitions about what Jesus’ Messiahship was about. This was simply a man who thought that he knew better than God how God’s purposes were to be fulfilled.
I say ‘simply’ because, of course, we all do this.
The one who is to hand Jesus over to the authorities is the one to whom Jesus gives the bread that he dipped in the dish. But, of course, Judas was not the only disciple to whom Jesus gave the bread of friendship that night. Judas was not the only disciple whose feet Jesus washed that night.
Who is going to betray Jesus? One of us. Each of us. We are each guilty of thinking that we know better than God how his purposes are to be fulfilled. We can’t help it – this is part of our human condition. Judas is not a super-villain, he is an ordinary human being. One of us.
So where is the good news?
The good news is that Jesus chose the cross. He chose the path of forgiveness rather than the path of vengeance. And in doing so, he brought salvation into the world. In choosing the cross, he also demonstrated to us that even while we were still sinners, he died for us.
I believe firmly that Jesus’ forgiveness was available to Judas, although Judas could not see it. The good news is that no matter what we do, God’s forgiveness is always available to us. The good news is that we are forgiven sinners.
Amen
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