Monday, 12 October 2009
Tuesday, 6 October 2009
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Lindsell, Little Saling and (partly) Stebbing, 13th September 09
This (it being a frantic week) owes a lot to Roots on the Web. The readings Were Proverbs 1, 20-the end and Mark 8, 27-the end. I kind of used this script at Stebbing but deviated massively because I needed to launch the vision statement there.
This week as we continue to travel through Proverbs and St Mark, we are directed to the difference between God's way and our own, and exhorted to follow his wisdom and commands.
The teaching in Proverbs is delivered as from a father to a son, and some of it may be based on the teachers of the Egyptian and Babylonian Empires. But what is remarkable alongside this heritage is the high regard given in the Book to women, of which we shall hear even more in next week’s reading. The book begins (chapter 1 verse 8) by giving respect to a mother's teaching alongside that of a father. And now Wisdom itself is personified as the most desirable of women. Wisdom is the revelation of God, the fountain of life, giving us discernment, which frees us from death and leads to life. The Wisdom of the God of Israel is not a goddess like those of ancient fertility religions. She is the word of the living God who pours out the divine Spirit (1.23). Those who respond to her will share in the messianic banquet, as we read in chapter 9 verses 1-6). It is fascinating and perhaps unexpected that the book of Proverbs contains a resurrection hope.
From chapter 1, though, the first call of Wisdom is to conversion. The path of violence must be abandoned and the first step on the path to life is to recognise how pervasive violence is in those who turn their backs on 'the fear of the Lord'.
The punishment envisaged for this failure to seek divine wisdom is not a thunderbolt from heaven. Rather, it is simply that the foolish will reap the consequences of their own folly. They 'eat the fruit of their way' because they have ignored God's call.
The view expressed in Proverbs had been a simple message; that 'those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease' (1.33). Later Wisdom literature like Job, Ecclesiastes and Lamentations would temper this sunny innocence with a realistic recognition that things do not automatically go well for those who follow God's way. This provides the basis for Jesus' remarks in today's Gospel reading from Mark 8. It probably also resonates slightly better for us in the light of our own life experiences. Perhaps that’s why Proverbs doesn’t feature heavily in books with titles like “why do bad things happen to good people?”
Jesus asked the disciples who they say he is, and Peter confesses him as the Christ, i.e., the Messiah. Having commended Peter's answer by indicating that his confession is divinely revealed, Jesus immediately goes on to outline the nature of his understanding of the Messiah. He was not going to be a warrior king at the head of a triumphant army who would come to overthrow the occupying forces and “restore the Kingdom to Israel”. Our familiarity with that phrase from Acts chapter 1 is an indication that even after the resurrection, the disciples didn’t necessarily get the message!
Instead, Jesus explains that his destiny is to be a wounded figure who is eventually killed. Nonetheless, even here there is hope for vindication through resurrection.
I have always been intrigued by this episode. It reveals so much about Jesus but challenges us in two ways; first, to consider his very nature, ands second, in our own response to his question, “who do you say that I am?”
We confess in our creeds that Jesus is God incarnate; we acknowledge his authority and power and we worship him in response to those things. But I can’t help but wonder whether Jesus was really expecting Peter to give the answer he did. Can he have known it was coming and so did he therefore plan his consequent teaching session on what was to come, or was it all spontaneous? We will never know.
What we can be sure of though is that Peter made his declaration unprompted, other than by the words he had heard and the actions and attitudes he had seen coming from Jesus. We could I suppose conclude that whether or not he foresaw Peter’s response, Jesus seizes this moment to tell his disciples about his death in order to reinforce the point that he is not the Messiah that most Jews were waiting for. He is God, but he is human and has to react as a human to the workings of Peter’s very human mind.
And so, when we are asked, “Who do you say that I am”, we probably know the answer we are expected to give, if we say the creed often enough. Yet I acknowledge that not everyone here would answer that question in the same way as Peter did. This passage is frequently used to indicate the importance of personal confession of the person and nature of Christ in the Christian faith, and there is no doubt that our faith is edified by being able to say it with him, but we need to remember that Peter didn’t say this out of nowhere; his confession was not out of the blue, but was the result of spending a lot of time sitting and listening to Jesus’ teaching, watching him in conversation with others, and presumably worshipping with him. We need to remember this because if we forget it, our ministry of welcome to those who come along to church looking for something or someone, and our ministry of inclusion of those who struggle to confess like Peter, will be compromised, and we will appear to be saying, “If you come here, you need to be able to say that”, which of course we are not saying at all.
Peter’s confession may have been sudden, but it was a long time coming. Unfortunately his next pronouncement is less well considered, as we then turn from the wounded servant messiah to wounding tongues. Having just been commended by Jesus, Peter is then sharply rebuked for daring to suggest that the way of suffering was not an appropriate way forward. Peter's response to this public rebuke is not recorded but it is not unreasonable to think that he would at the time have felt stung by that censure, and he might remember it forever.
However, when we recall that Mark's Gospel may well be based on Peter's preaching, the fact that this is remembered would seem to indicate that by this time Peter was happy to admit to his fault, rather than feel resentful about the just rebuke. He had not appreciated the divine wisdom behind Jesus' remark, and behind his going the way of the cross. Are we wise enough to listen when we are called to account, or do we make the occasion one for bearing a grudge and trying to get even?
This week as we continue to travel through Proverbs and St Mark, we are directed to the difference between God's way and our own, and exhorted to follow his wisdom and commands.
The teaching in Proverbs is delivered as from a father to a son, and some of it may be based on the teachers of the Egyptian and Babylonian Empires. But what is remarkable alongside this heritage is the high regard given in the Book to women, of which we shall hear even more in next week’s reading. The book begins (chapter 1 verse 8) by giving respect to a mother's teaching alongside that of a father. And now Wisdom itself is personified as the most desirable of women. Wisdom is the revelation of God, the fountain of life, giving us discernment, which frees us from death and leads to life. The Wisdom of the God of Israel is not a goddess like those of ancient fertility religions. She is the word of the living God who pours out the divine Spirit (1.23). Those who respond to her will share in the messianic banquet, as we read in chapter 9 verses 1-6). It is fascinating and perhaps unexpected that the book of Proverbs contains a resurrection hope.
From chapter 1, though, the first call of Wisdom is to conversion. The path of violence must be abandoned and the first step on the path to life is to recognise how pervasive violence is in those who turn their backs on 'the fear of the Lord'.
The punishment envisaged for this failure to seek divine wisdom is not a thunderbolt from heaven. Rather, it is simply that the foolish will reap the consequences of their own folly. They 'eat the fruit of their way' because they have ignored God's call.
The view expressed in Proverbs had been a simple message; that 'those who listen to me will be secure and will live at ease' (1.33). Later Wisdom literature like Job, Ecclesiastes and Lamentations would temper this sunny innocence with a realistic recognition that things do not automatically go well for those who follow God's way. This provides the basis for Jesus' remarks in today's Gospel reading from Mark 8. It probably also resonates slightly better for us in the light of our own life experiences. Perhaps that’s why Proverbs doesn’t feature heavily in books with titles like “why do bad things happen to good people?”
Jesus asked the disciples who they say he is, and Peter confesses him as the Christ, i.e., the Messiah. Having commended Peter's answer by indicating that his confession is divinely revealed, Jesus immediately goes on to outline the nature of his understanding of the Messiah. He was not going to be a warrior king at the head of a triumphant army who would come to overthrow the occupying forces and “restore the Kingdom to Israel”. Our familiarity with that phrase from Acts chapter 1 is an indication that even after the resurrection, the disciples didn’t necessarily get the message!
Instead, Jesus explains that his destiny is to be a wounded figure who is eventually killed. Nonetheless, even here there is hope for vindication through resurrection.
I have always been intrigued by this episode. It reveals so much about Jesus but challenges us in two ways; first, to consider his very nature, ands second, in our own response to his question, “who do you say that I am?”
We confess in our creeds that Jesus is God incarnate; we acknowledge his authority and power and we worship him in response to those things. But I can’t help but wonder whether Jesus was really expecting Peter to give the answer he did. Can he have known it was coming and so did he therefore plan his consequent teaching session on what was to come, or was it all spontaneous? We will never know.
What we can be sure of though is that Peter made his declaration unprompted, other than by the words he had heard and the actions and attitudes he had seen coming from Jesus. We could I suppose conclude that whether or not he foresaw Peter’s response, Jesus seizes this moment to tell his disciples about his death in order to reinforce the point that he is not the Messiah that most Jews were waiting for. He is God, but he is human and has to react as a human to the workings of Peter’s very human mind.
And so, when we are asked, “Who do you say that I am”, we probably know the answer we are expected to give, if we say the creed often enough. Yet I acknowledge that not everyone here would answer that question in the same way as Peter did. This passage is frequently used to indicate the importance of personal confession of the person and nature of Christ in the Christian faith, and there is no doubt that our faith is edified by being able to say it with him, but we need to remember that Peter didn’t say this out of nowhere; his confession was not out of the blue, but was the result of spending a lot of time sitting and listening to Jesus’ teaching, watching him in conversation with others, and presumably worshipping with him. We need to remember this because if we forget it, our ministry of welcome to those who come along to church looking for something or someone, and our ministry of inclusion of those who struggle to confess like Peter, will be compromised, and we will appear to be saying, “If you come here, you need to be able to say that”, which of course we are not saying at all.
Peter’s confession may have been sudden, but it was a long time coming. Unfortunately his next pronouncement is less well considered, as we then turn from the wounded servant messiah to wounding tongues. Having just been commended by Jesus, Peter is then sharply rebuked for daring to suggest that the way of suffering was not an appropriate way forward. Peter's response to this public rebuke is not recorded but it is not unreasonable to think that he would at the time have felt stung by that censure, and he might remember it forever.
However, when we recall that Mark's Gospel may well be based on Peter's preaching, the fact that this is remembered would seem to indicate that by this time Peter was happy to admit to his fault, rather than feel resentful about the just rebuke. He had not appreciated the divine wisdom behind Jesus' remark, and behind his going the way of the cross. Are we wise enough to listen when we are called to account, or do we make the occasion one for bearing a grudge and trying to get even?
Sunday, 16 August 2009
Sunday, 3 May 2009
Lindsell 030509
Text was Acts 4, 5-12 and John 10, 11-18
"True leadership and discipleship cannot be separated from the personal love of those whom we know by name and voice."
In John's Gospel, Jesus picks up the metaphor of the shepherd, familiar to his hearers from the 23rd Psalm and gives it a new, self-referential, twist: the good shepherd is the one who is prepared to face death in order to fulfil his responsibilities.
In Acts, Peter follows his master's example. By healing the cripple and fearlessly proclaiming the source of his power, he puts himself in immediate danger. In each case, the willingness to sacrifice oneself is tied to personal love: the shepherd knows the sheep by name and they know his voice; the disciples act in the name of Jesus; the ones we care for are our brothers and sisters.
Peter is the dominant figure in the early chapters of Acts, and his appearance here is typical. After a night in prison, he and his companions are brought before the Jewish religious authorities. The assembled array is impressive: rulers, priests and scribes; the high priest and members of his family, listed by name. The disciples are thrust right into the middle of all this. They are unlettered, ordinary, men, as Luke reminds us a little later; we know also from his Gospel that Peter's nerve had failed when his master had been arrested. But now he is transformed: he speaks with the freedom and confidence that was, in the ancient world, the mark of a philosopher. His style is fluent and authoritative, more a sermon than a speech of defence. He even emphasises the errors of his prosecutors by adding 'you' to the Old Testament quotation, 'This is the stone which you builders rejected', and by insisting on the resurrection of Christ before the Sadducees, who rejected even the future resurrection. The transformation of Peter reveals the power of the Holy Spirit, bestowed on the apostles at Pentecost.
Jesus is rarely in the New Testament described directly as 'God'. Instead, the writers repeatedly ascribe to him activities or titles or descriptions that properly belong to God. Here Jesus identifies himself with the Good Shepherd who, in the Old Testament, stands for God. Ezekiel 34 makes a contrast with the bad shepherds, who neglect and exploit their flocks; Psalm 23 gives details of the painstaking care provided by the true herdsman. In John, Jesus contrasts the shepherd with the hired hand: the one abandons his charges at the first sign of danger; the other faces death for the sake of his sheep. The extension of the Old Testament metaphor is striking: Jesus identifies himself with God precisely in his self-giving death.
Jesus' claim is that his relationship with the Father, one of mutual love and knowledge, is the source of his love and knowledge of his sheep. They are his own: the Greek word idios is used of members of one's family. It is the unity between Father and Son that makes unity among the sheep an imperative. That is why the 'other sheep' will become part of one and the same flock. Some scholars argue that the 'other sheep' are scattered groups of Jewish Christians in John's own day, facing persecution by the synagogues; most think that they are the non-Jews who will eventually become Christians. In either case, the readers are reminded that they are all linked as members of one family through the one shepherd.
And the one shepherd is of course unique. As Peter says in his conclusion, “Salvation is found in no on else, for there is no other name under heaven given to people by which we must be saved.” He is the only one.
Its worth noting that although at Easter we talk about how Jesus rose from the dead, this passage makes it clear that it was God who raised him; he did not do it himself. The work of Christ on the cross, and the power of God which raised him from the dead, are how our salvation is possible. Peter’s speech before the Sanhedrin sees them with their backs against the wall, defending their faith and seeking to ensure the truth about Jesus is properly understood. Clearly, Peter took an enormous risk in speaking out, and could have suffered a similar fate to that of Jesus, but the Sanhedrin eventually release him and John.
I find it fascinating that Jesus’ picture of the sheepfold, with himself as the shepherd, the protective gate (verse 7), while apparently first of all implying a protected, isolated community, if we see the sheep as the Church, is of course followed by the statement from Jesus that “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen, I must bring them also … there shall be one flock and one shepherd.” So its actually a call to be inclusive of outsiders – whether, as we have seen, these other sheep are from other churches or from no church at all.
Here at Lindsell this is what we aim to do, to be inclusive, and we need to be ready to be transformed by our encounter with other sheep. I’m no farmer, but I do know that when you introduce new stock to a flock or herd, the gene pool is altered over generations and the animals become different – I wonder how long it would take fro a flock of plain white sheep to become spotty with the introduction of just one Jacobs ram? In the same way, as we grow as a church, and we are the only officially growing church in this benefice right now, we need to hold in tension our stated aims to have an open door and to hold to traditional values.
Our shepherd does want to let other sheep into the sheepfold, but are we ready to receive them? Have we perhaps regarded the sanctuary of this building, this church family as somehow sacrosanct? I think perhaps not so far in my experience, which is why we are growing. Yet at the same time we do not need to compromise our gospel faith, and instead we should be ready to model it by word and deed.
The sheepfold Jesus spoke of might have been made up simply of a circle of thorn bushes with a gap guarded by the shepherd – who would lie down across the entrance, hence lay down his life – but I suspect that for us the thorns are not just o protect us from what is outside; if you are sitting in or near thorns you cannot stay comfortable for too long and you have to move; the thorns in our sheepfold then might be a motivation to get up and go out- to turn the church inside out, for the sake of the other sheep, the people we know and love, who aren’t here today.
Using some material from www.rootsontheweb.com by Sister Margaret Atkins
"True leadership and discipleship cannot be separated from the personal love of those whom we know by name and voice."
In John's Gospel, Jesus picks up the metaphor of the shepherd, familiar to his hearers from the 23rd Psalm and gives it a new, self-referential, twist: the good shepherd is the one who is prepared to face death in order to fulfil his responsibilities.
In Acts, Peter follows his master's example. By healing the cripple and fearlessly proclaiming the source of his power, he puts himself in immediate danger. In each case, the willingness to sacrifice oneself is tied to personal love: the shepherd knows the sheep by name and they know his voice; the disciples act in the name of Jesus; the ones we care for are our brothers and sisters.
Peter is the dominant figure in the early chapters of Acts, and his appearance here is typical. After a night in prison, he and his companions are brought before the Jewish religious authorities. The assembled array is impressive: rulers, priests and scribes; the high priest and members of his family, listed by name. The disciples are thrust right into the middle of all this. They are unlettered, ordinary, men, as Luke reminds us a little later; we know also from his Gospel that Peter's nerve had failed when his master had been arrested. But now he is transformed: he speaks with the freedom and confidence that was, in the ancient world, the mark of a philosopher. His style is fluent and authoritative, more a sermon than a speech of defence. He even emphasises the errors of his prosecutors by adding 'you' to the Old Testament quotation, 'This is the stone which you builders rejected', and by insisting on the resurrection of Christ before the Sadducees, who rejected even the future resurrection. The transformation of Peter reveals the power of the Holy Spirit, bestowed on the apostles at Pentecost.
Jesus is rarely in the New Testament described directly as 'God'. Instead, the writers repeatedly ascribe to him activities or titles or descriptions that properly belong to God. Here Jesus identifies himself with the Good Shepherd who, in the Old Testament, stands for God. Ezekiel 34 makes a contrast with the bad shepherds, who neglect and exploit their flocks; Psalm 23 gives details of the painstaking care provided by the true herdsman. In John, Jesus contrasts the shepherd with the hired hand: the one abandons his charges at the first sign of danger; the other faces death for the sake of his sheep. The extension of the Old Testament metaphor is striking: Jesus identifies himself with God precisely in his self-giving death.
Jesus' claim is that his relationship with the Father, one of mutual love and knowledge, is the source of his love and knowledge of his sheep. They are his own: the Greek word idios is used of members of one's family. It is the unity between Father and Son that makes unity among the sheep an imperative. That is why the 'other sheep' will become part of one and the same flock. Some scholars argue that the 'other sheep' are scattered groups of Jewish Christians in John's own day, facing persecution by the synagogues; most think that they are the non-Jews who will eventually become Christians. In either case, the readers are reminded that they are all linked as members of one family through the one shepherd.
And the one shepherd is of course unique. As Peter says in his conclusion, “Salvation is found in no on else, for there is no other name under heaven given to people by which we must be saved.” He is the only one.
Its worth noting that although at Easter we talk about how Jesus rose from the dead, this passage makes it clear that it was God who raised him; he did not do it himself. The work of Christ on the cross, and the power of God which raised him from the dead, are how our salvation is possible. Peter’s speech before the Sanhedrin sees them with their backs against the wall, defending their faith and seeking to ensure the truth about Jesus is properly understood. Clearly, Peter took an enormous risk in speaking out, and could have suffered a similar fate to that of Jesus, but the Sanhedrin eventually release him and John.
I find it fascinating that Jesus’ picture of the sheepfold, with himself as the shepherd, the protective gate (verse 7), while apparently first of all implying a protected, isolated community, if we see the sheep as the Church, is of course followed by the statement from Jesus that “I have other sheep that are not of this sheep pen, I must bring them also … there shall be one flock and one shepherd.” So its actually a call to be inclusive of outsiders – whether, as we have seen, these other sheep are from other churches or from no church at all.
Here at Lindsell this is what we aim to do, to be inclusive, and we need to be ready to be transformed by our encounter with other sheep. I’m no farmer, but I do know that when you introduce new stock to a flock or herd, the gene pool is altered over generations and the animals become different – I wonder how long it would take fro a flock of plain white sheep to become spotty with the introduction of just one Jacobs ram? In the same way, as we grow as a church, and we are the only officially growing church in this benefice right now, we need to hold in tension our stated aims to have an open door and to hold to traditional values.
Our shepherd does want to let other sheep into the sheepfold, but are we ready to receive them? Have we perhaps regarded the sanctuary of this building, this church family as somehow sacrosanct? I think perhaps not so far in my experience, which is why we are growing. Yet at the same time we do not need to compromise our gospel faith, and instead we should be ready to model it by word and deed.
The sheepfold Jesus spoke of might have been made up simply of a circle of thorn bushes with a gap guarded by the shepherd – who would lie down across the entrance, hence lay down his life – but I suspect that for us the thorns are not just o protect us from what is outside; if you are sitting in or near thorns you cannot stay comfortable for too long and you have to move; the thorns in our sheepfold then might be a motivation to get up and go out- to turn the church inside out, for the sake of the other sheep, the people we know and love, who aren’t here today.
Using some material from www.rootsontheweb.com by Sister Margaret Atkins
Tuesday, 21 April 2009
Lindsell and Great Saling Easter day 09
Readings were Isaiah 25, 6-9 and Mark 16, 1-8
As we celebrate Easter, I’d like to ask, what does the Christian teaching of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead mean?
Our Old Testament reading from Isaiah 25 poses this question in its expectation that God will destroy death. In actual fact, there is almost no certain resurrection hope in the Old Testament, but Isaiah uses metaphorical language to describe the nature of the era that would result from God's saving intervention. In the short term he was talking about a return to Jerusalem from exile – reference to “On this Mountain” is intended to mean the city built on Mount Zion. As we read the passage with our New Testament Easter perspective, it is hard to avoid reading the cross and the resurrection into verses like “on this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples… he will swallow up death forever.” Today of all days, these words evoke a dramatic picture of Calvary’s hilltop scene, and of Matthew’s image of the Temple veil being torn in two as Jesus died. The first thing resurrection means then, is that death need not be the end.
This theme is echoed in Revelation 21, which speaks of the New Jerusalem, the ultimate intimacy with God, where there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain. This is what the resurrection of Jesus opens up for us. The language of salvation in Isaiah 25 points us to the work of Jesus upon the cross, and the love of God in raising him from the dead. So the second thing resurrection means is that we can be in a personal relationship with God, both in Christ and because of what he achieved.
But who is “we”? In the Old Testament as a whole, the focus is on God’s relationship with his chosen people, the Jews. In this passage however there is a prefiguring of the New Testament’s re-definition of that term, as the biblical hope for Israel is extended to include all of humankind. This universal hope and the promise that death is irrelevant make this an entirely appropriate passage to be thinking about on Easter Sunday. What Jesus won by conquering death is available to all who put their trust in him, not just people of one ethnic group. Even this seems to be prefigured in Isaiah 25 verse 9; “This is the Lord, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.” So the picture Isaiah paints of a people returning to their home city has become a picture of the Kingdom of God, of those who by putting their trust in Christ have been delivered from death and will dwell with God. The third thing that resurrection means is the redefinition of humanity as potentially all being the people of God. No one is outside this scope, no matter how evil they may appear; the victory of the cross and the empty tomb is just as available to a mass murderer as it is to you and me. We would both simply have to place our faith and trust in Christ, and the burden of our sin, whether great or small, is washed away.
So what actually happened at the resurrection? Well Mark 16 is as interesting for what it does not say as for what it does say. It describes the appearance of an angel but not that of Jesus himself. When we set Mark’s account alongside the writings and theology of St Paul, Paul has no description of the empty tomb and Mark has no description of the resurrection appearances.
In fact we must read both narratives in the light of each other. The empty tomb, as described in the Gospel, is an unambiguous symbol which finds its meaning when read alongside the resurrection appearances, which we will be looking at over the coming weeks. The resurrection appearances gain their definitive meaning from the description of the empty tomb. Put together, the Easter message is that Jesus, in rising from the dead, was revealed as a glorious heavenly being who was entitled to universal worship. The absence of a body supports a faith in the resurrection of the body rather than just a separation of body and spirit. The fourth thing that resurrection means then is that in Christ God re-drew the boundaries of heaven and earth, and opened the gate between them.
The original version of the Gospel probably ended at Mark 16.8, since what follows is a kind readers’ digest version of the resurrection appearances from the other gospels. If this is the case, the subtle absence of full narrative closure is striking. The women said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Indeed, the original Greek wording appears unfinished: 'they were afraid of … ' what? We never find out. Somehow, Mark is hanging on to his notion of a secret right to the end, and doesn't ever actually say that the risen Christ was seen. So we need to acknowledge that resurrection also means a mystery. We simply don’t know how he did it.
In conclusion, Mark’s account brings us back to the question of what the resurrection means and how the disciples became convinced about it. It leaves space for doubts and fears but is unequivocal in the description of the empty tomb, and of the coming mission of the disciples to go into Galilee, and thence into the entire world. From there we return to Isaiah’s picture of a salvation given by God for the whole world to benefit from. Yet there is no passivity in this; in language reminiscent of the New Testament, Isaiah portrays the nations of the earth acknowledging God, and putting their trust in him for salvation.
To fully take the meaning of resurrection on for ourselves, for our own faith, this is what we are called to do as well.
Let us pray.
Some material by Rev'd Dr Jonathan Knight taken from www.rootsontheweb.com and is copyright © Roots for Churches Ltd 2008.
As we celebrate Easter, I’d like to ask, what does the Christian teaching of the resurrection of Jesus from the dead mean?
Our Old Testament reading from Isaiah 25 poses this question in its expectation that God will destroy death. In actual fact, there is almost no certain resurrection hope in the Old Testament, but Isaiah uses metaphorical language to describe the nature of the era that would result from God's saving intervention. In the short term he was talking about a return to Jerusalem from exile – reference to “On this Mountain” is intended to mean the city built on Mount Zion. As we read the passage with our New Testament Easter perspective, it is hard to avoid reading the cross and the resurrection into verses like “on this mountain he will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples… he will swallow up death forever.” Today of all days, these words evoke a dramatic picture of Calvary’s hilltop scene, and of Matthew’s image of the Temple veil being torn in two as Jesus died. The first thing resurrection means then, is that death need not be the end.
This theme is echoed in Revelation 21, which speaks of the New Jerusalem, the ultimate intimacy with God, where there is no more death or mourning or crying or pain. This is what the resurrection of Jesus opens up for us. The language of salvation in Isaiah 25 points us to the work of Jesus upon the cross, and the love of God in raising him from the dead. So the second thing resurrection means is that we can be in a personal relationship with God, both in Christ and because of what he achieved.
But who is “we”? In the Old Testament as a whole, the focus is on God’s relationship with his chosen people, the Jews. In this passage however there is a prefiguring of the New Testament’s re-definition of that term, as the biblical hope for Israel is extended to include all of humankind. This universal hope and the promise that death is irrelevant make this an entirely appropriate passage to be thinking about on Easter Sunday. What Jesus won by conquering death is available to all who put their trust in him, not just people of one ethnic group. Even this seems to be prefigured in Isaiah 25 verse 9; “This is the Lord, we trusted in him; let us rejoice and be glad in his salvation.” So the picture Isaiah paints of a people returning to their home city has become a picture of the Kingdom of God, of those who by putting their trust in Christ have been delivered from death and will dwell with God. The third thing that resurrection means is the redefinition of humanity as potentially all being the people of God. No one is outside this scope, no matter how evil they may appear; the victory of the cross and the empty tomb is just as available to a mass murderer as it is to you and me. We would both simply have to place our faith and trust in Christ, and the burden of our sin, whether great or small, is washed away.
So what actually happened at the resurrection? Well Mark 16 is as interesting for what it does not say as for what it does say. It describes the appearance of an angel but not that of Jesus himself. When we set Mark’s account alongside the writings and theology of St Paul, Paul has no description of the empty tomb and Mark has no description of the resurrection appearances.
In fact we must read both narratives in the light of each other. The empty tomb, as described in the Gospel, is an unambiguous symbol which finds its meaning when read alongside the resurrection appearances, which we will be looking at over the coming weeks. The resurrection appearances gain their definitive meaning from the description of the empty tomb. Put together, the Easter message is that Jesus, in rising from the dead, was revealed as a glorious heavenly being who was entitled to universal worship. The absence of a body supports a faith in the resurrection of the body rather than just a separation of body and spirit. The fourth thing that resurrection means then is that in Christ God re-drew the boundaries of heaven and earth, and opened the gate between them.
The original version of the Gospel probably ended at Mark 16.8, since what follows is a kind readers’ digest version of the resurrection appearances from the other gospels. If this is the case, the subtle absence of full narrative closure is striking. The women said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Indeed, the original Greek wording appears unfinished: 'they were afraid of … ' what? We never find out. Somehow, Mark is hanging on to his notion of a secret right to the end, and doesn't ever actually say that the risen Christ was seen. So we need to acknowledge that resurrection also means a mystery. We simply don’t know how he did it.
In conclusion, Mark’s account brings us back to the question of what the resurrection means and how the disciples became convinced about it. It leaves space for doubts and fears but is unequivocal in the description of the empty tomb, and of the coming mission of the disciples to go into Galilee, and thence into the entire world. From there we return to Isaiah’s picture of a salvation given by God for the whole world to benefit from. Yet there is no passivity in this; in language reminiscent of the New Testament, Isaiah portrays the nations of the earth acknowledging God, and putting their trust in him for salvation.
To fully take the meaning of resurrection on for ourselves, for our own faith, this is what we are called to do as well.
Let us pray.
Some material by Rev'd Dr Jonathan Knight taken from www.rootsontheweb.com and is copyright © Roots for Churches Ltd 2008.
Monday, 6 April 2009
Lindsell and Stebbing Palm Sunday 09
Readings were Psalm 118 and Mark 11,1-11
You know that feeling you get when someone starts telling you a story about something that happened to them, or a joke, or whatever, and about 5 seconds in, you remember that they have already told you this thing, and you know what’s coming at the end of the story, you’ve heard the punchline? You are usually too polite to stop them and say, actually you told me this yesterday or last week or whenever, so you listen on to the end, and there is no impact for you, because you’ve already heard it.
Well, as we arrive at the beginning of Holy Week, I am only too aware that we know the end of the story; it is a story that has been told many many times to us and to our forebears; how Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and was welcomed as a King, but within days had been tried and condemned to death, executed and buried as a convicted criminal, yet rose from the dead after 3 days in the tomb. We know the end of the story because we are still living in its light. We know the end of the story, but that ought not to diminish the impact for us of this episode. It certainly did not diminish for Mark’s first readers, who evaluated the triumphal entry in the light of the resurrection. Of course, we can only call it the triumphal entry if Jesus does go on to rise form the dead.
I’m fascinated by the fact that the crowds welcomed Jesus with open arms, they put down their cloaks and their palm branched to line his route from the Mount of Olives into the valley and up into Jerusalem. So they welcomed him but really they had no idea who he was; only the disciples – and arguably not all of those, had any clue. I was reminded of this on Thursday morning when, while waiting for my sports news bulletin on BBC breakfast TV I was subjected to 25 minutes of coverage of g20 leaders arriving at Excel; the cameras were all waiting for Barak Obama, but he was in a jam (or something) and so in the delay a stream of lesser faces were shown arriving, and the hapless newsreaders struggled to work out who the people greeting Gordon Brown were – the classic example being, on the arrival of an oriental chap, “So that’ll be the prime Minister of Japan”, “ no Bill, that’s Ban Kyi Moon, the UN secretary general.”
In our celebrity driven culture there is a tendency to run from one media hype to the next – for journalists and photographers that is sometimes literally true – if you have ever happened to be in an airport when film or sports stars are arriving you’ll know what I mean. They didn’t have media hype in Jerusalem in 33AD, but they did have an expectation of a coming King, a coming Saviour, to deliver the people from Roman occupation. So if the news came that Jesus was riding into town, the expectation would be high. The gospel writers reflect this expectation by showing Jesus as King – and not just King of Israel but of the entire world. The expectation may then have been exaggerated, much as tabloids tend to exaggerate today, but the gospel writers had a good reason for that – they wanted to make sure their readers got the point about the Messiah’s kingship being of David’s line, but of a different order – Jesus did not ride in as a conqueror but as a suffering servant. He did not come to boot the Romans out but to inaugurate a Kingdom not of this world.
It’s perhaps mostly about perceptions. Jesus was perceived by the crowds to be one kind of King, when actually he was and is a different kind of King altogether; his Kingdom is not of this world; he may have been born into a royal family but in order to ascend to the throne he had to die rather than stay alive, and citizens of his Kingdom are not limited by time space or geography. This has been a big challenge to me recently. As both Lindsell and Stebbing have bee thinking in recent months about how to describe ourselves and our vision, it is good, although not always easy, as part of that process, to consider how we are perceived by those who do not come to church.
In Lindsell I find that there is generally at the moment a perception of the church as being indeed a place of traditional values, an open door and a warm welcome. Our challenge is to make that perception into a motivation for people to welcome God into their lives in Christ. I am happy to be part of a church that stands for the things we say we stand for; what I wonder is, do any of them matte to those who aren’t here? And if not, how can we make it so that they do matter. My hunch is that we will need to carry on doing what we do – caring for others, those in need and those bereaved, and caring for our community, with a servant heart. This I believe is the pattern that fits with Jesus’ example.
In Stebbing I am beginning to realise that our pattern of church is a broken one. Firstly, because of a potential misunderstanding of what this service and the service at 5 pm tonight, are actually about. They are not primarily designed for people who already come to this church; rather, they are both intended to provide a means for us to open our door wide. In the morning, it is open those who do not currently come but who would prefer this kind of formal liturgical worship, and in the evening the same – for informal café style worship. So if regular church members are staying away “because they don’t like that kind of service”, then they are unable to invite anyone to come along, and the evangelistic endeavour is undermined.
Secondly, it may be that the perception of what church is for, who church is for and how we are part of church, is mismatched between church and village. In order to rectify that there is only one solution – to turn ourselves inside out. Then the village as while can see who we are and what we stand for, and then also there will be no wall between us. This will make is quite vulnerable, but I believe it is the pattern that fits with Jesus’ example.
That is the question to ask, isn’t it? “What would Jesus do?” There are many answers to this question, but they would all involve 2 things – a servant heart and a desire to glorify God.
One thing I know Jesus would not do is vote for the BNP. I only mention this because you are going to start seeing election posters for the European elections soon with an assertion from the BNP that Jesus would vote for them because they stand up for the persecuted. Of course, this is a democracy and you are free to vote for those loonies er… I mean that party of you so wish, but let us remember that Palm Sunday is not about democracy, it’s about monarchy, the Kingship of Christ over the entire world. Jesus’ Kingdom is not like a country or even a nation on this earth; it is not subject to elections for it is a true theocracy, in which God reigns, and as our Psalm reminded us, The Lord is good, and his love endures forever.
So even though you know what happens at the end, journey with me this Holy Week. Come with us on the Good Friday walk, and hear and re-live the passion narrative, the story of Jesus’ trail and crucifixion and death. And as you journey, reflect upon your own lives, as I will be reflecting upon mine. And as we near the celebration of resurrection, just after we have held our APCM, let us also think about a new start, for a new year, with a new and fresh vision to serve the people and glorify God. We need not worry if we are going over old ground, after all, at the end of the Triumphal entry, Jesus left the city and went back to the Mount of Olives.
The end is a bit sudden, but "live", we went straight into an act of commitment and the blessing of the palms
You know that feeling you get when someone starts telling you a story about something that happened to them, or a joke, or whatever, and about 5 seconds in, you remember that they have already told you this thing, and you know what’s coming at the end of the story, you’ve heard the punchline? You are usually too polite to stop them and say, actually you told me this yesterday or last week or whenever, so you listen on to the end, and there is no impact for you, because you’ve already heard it.
Well, as we arrive at the beginning of Holy Week, I am only too aware that we know the end of the story; it is a story that has been told many many times to us and to our forebears; how Jesus Christ rode into Jerusalem on a donkey and was welcomed as a King, but within days had been tried and condemned to death, executed and buried as a convicted criminal, yet rose from the dead after 3 days in the tomb. We know the end of the story because we are still living in its light. We know the end of the story, but that ought not to diminish the impact for us of this episode. It certainly did not diminish for Mark’s first readers, who evaluated the triumphal entry in the light of the resurrection. Of course, we can only call it the triumphal entry if Jesus does go on to rise form the dead.
I’m fascinated by the fact that the crowds welcomed Jesus with open arms, they put down their cloaks and their palm branched to line his route from the Mount of Olives into the valley and up into Jerusalem. So they welcomed him but really they had no idea who he was; only the disciples – and arguably not all of those, had any clue. I was reminded of this on Thursday morning when, while waiting for my sports news bulletin on BBC breakfast TV I was subjected to 25 minutes of coverage of g20 leaders arriving at Excel; the cameras were all waiting for Barak Obama, but he was in a jam (or something) and so in the delay a stream of lesser faces were shown arriving, and the hapless newsreaders struggled to work out who the people greeting Gordon Brown were – the classic example being, on the arrival of an oriental chap, “So that’ll be the prime Minister of Japan”, “ no Bill, that’s Ban Kyi Moon, the UN secretary general.”
In our celebrity driven culture there is a tendency to run from one media hype to the next – for journalists and photographers that is sometimes literally true – if you have ever happened to be in an airport when film or sports stars are arriving you’ll know what I mean. They didn’t have media hype in Jerusalem in 33AD, but they did have an expectation of a coming King, a coming Saviour, to deliver the people from Roman occupation. So if the news came that Jesus was riding into town, the expectation would be high. The gospel writers reflect this expectation by showing Jesus as King – and not just King of Israel but of the entire world. The expectation may then have been exaggerated, much as tabloids tend to exaggerate today, but the gospel writers had a good reason for that – they wanted to make sure their readers got the point about the Messiah’s kingship being of David’s line, but of a different order – Jesus did not ride in as a conqueror but as a suffering servant. He did not come to boot the Romans out but to inaugurate a Kingdom not of this world.
It’s perhaps mostly about perceptions. Jesus was perceived by the crowds to be one kind of King, when actually he was and is a different kind of King altogether; his Kingdom is not of this world; he may have been born into a royal family but in order to ascend to the throne he had to die rather than stay alive, and citizens of his Kingdom are not limited by time space or geography. This has been a big challenge to me recently. As both Lindsell and Stebbing have bee thinking in recent months about how to describe ourselves and our vision, it is good, although not always easy, as part of that process, to consider how we are perceived by those who do not come to church.
In Lindsell I find that there is generally at the moment a perception of the church as being indeed a place of traditional values, an open door and a warm welcome. Our challenge is to make that perception into a motivation for people to welcome God into their lives in Christ. I am happy to be part of a church that stands for the things we say we stand for; what I wonder is, do any of them matte to those who aren’t here? And if not, how can we make it so that they do matter. My hunch is that we will need to carry on doing what we do – caring for others, those in need and those bereaved, and caring for our community, with a servant heart. This I believe is the pattern that fits with Jesus’ example.
In Stebbing I am beginning to realise that our pattern of church is a broken one. Firstly, because of a potential misunderstanding of what this service and the service at 5 pm tonight, are actually about. They are not primarily designed for people who already come to this church; rather, they are both intended to provide a means for us to open our door wide. In the morning, it is open those who do not currently come but who would prefer this kind of formal liturgical worship, and in the evening the same – for informal café style worship. So if regular church members are staying away “because they don’t like that kind of service”, then they are unable to invite anyone to come along, and the evangelistic endeavour is undermined.
Secondly, it may be that the perception of what church is for, who church is for and how we are part of church, is mismatched between church and village. In order to rectify that there is only one solution – to turn ourselves inside out. Then the village as while can see who we are and what we stand for, and then also there will be no wall between us. This will make is quite vulnerable, but I believe it is the pattern that fits with Jesus’ example.
That is the question to ask, isn’t it? “What would Jesus do?” There are many answers to this question, but they would all involve 2 things – a servant heart and a desire to glorify God.
One thing I know Jesus would not do is vote for the BNP. I only mention this because you are going to start seeing election posters for the European elections soon with an assertion from the BNP that Jesus would vote for them because they stand up for the persecuted. Of course, this is a democracy and you are free to vote for those loonies er… I mean that party of you so wish, but let us remember that Palm Sunday is not about democracy, it’s about monarchy, the Kingship of Christ over the entire world. Jesus’ Kingdom is not like a country or even a nation on this earth; it is not subject to elections for it is a true theocracy, in which God reigns, and as our Psalm reminded us, The Lord is good, and his love endures forever.
So even though you know what happens at the end, journey with me this Holy Week. Come with us on the Good Friday walk, and hear and re-live the passion narrative, the story of Jesus’ trail and crucifixion and death. And as you journey, reflect upon your own lives, as I will be reflecting upon mine. And as we near the celebration of resurrection, just after we have held our APCM, let us also think about a new start, for a new year, with a new and fresh vision to serve the people and glorify God. We need not worry if we are going over old ground, after all, at the end of the Triumphal entry, Jesus left the city and went back to the Mount of Olives.
The end is a bit sudden, but "live", we went straight into an act of commitment and the blessing of the palms
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