Third Sunday of Easter

May 4                          NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Third Sunday of Easter

Texts:  Acts 2:14a, 36-41; 1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24:13-35

Theme:  This week we have one of the three great "resurrection appearances" in which one of the key elements is the apparent difficulty intimates of Jesus had in recognising him after his resurrection.  So perhaps something along the lines of "Who is this Really?"  Or something shorter and snappier like "The Identity Crisis".  Alternatively, we might take a lead from the reading from Acts and go for "What then should we do?", which is a question we should constantly ask ourselves as we attempt to follow the Spirit's leading.

Introduction.  Our first reading, from Peter's "Pentecost sermon", picks up where we left off last week.  He repeats his charge that his hearers are guilty of killing the Messiah, the Son of God.  Now we have their extraordinary response: they accept their guilt and ask what they can do about it.  The answer is equally straightforward: repent, be baptised, and receive the Holy Spirit.  Our second reading also continues on from last week, but with the unfortunate omission of some key verses.  We seem to have an aversion to long lessons, but an exception could well be made in this case.  At the very least we should start with verses 13 to 16 to remind ourselves that we have a role to play in working out our own salvation.  And we finish with the mesmeric story of the Risen Christ on the road to Emmaus.

Background.  I have had a refrain running through my head for the last few days – the only words I can remember are "slow down, you go too fast; you've got to make the moment last", or something like that.  Perhaps my problem is that I am slowing down, but it feels to me that the Easter Season is going too fast.  I can't keep up.  I'm still having flashbacks, still needing time to ponder Good Friday and Holy Saturday, and already feeling that I need a lot more time for Easter Day.  So I'm starting this week with a few fairly random "catch-up" thoughts.

First about Good Friday.  Where are we in that drama – on the Cross with Christ, running away with his disciples, weeping with the gutsy women who stuck it out to the end, or in the middle of the mob chanting for blood?  It's a very disturbing question, isn't it?  I suspect that St Paul may have something to answer for here, or, at least, are understanding of his teaching.  He says we died with Christ, and even that we were crucified with him; and there is a profound truth in that, of course.  The difficulty is that it is only an "ex post facto" truth:  it wasn't true at the time Jesus was actually being crucified.  Yet perhaps at some level St Paul's masterful baptismal theology has helped us to put ourselves in the role of victim, and therefore exclude ourselves from those who killed Christ.

And while I was pondering this thought another line from St Paul drifted into my consciousness.  He says "Christ is my life".  If that is true, then to kill Christ is also to kill myself: we are, as it were, "suicide-crucifiers", spiritual forbears of today's suicide bombers.  Indeed, perhaps it is true that to kill another person is to kill ourselves spiritually, even if we do not physically die in the assault.  Does any of that make sense?  I don't know – I need more time to reflect.  The Easter Season is going too fast.

And then we come to Holy Saturday.  What's that about?  Is it just the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday or does it have some greater significance?  Yes, I know we have some vague idea that the Spirit of Christ descended and harrowed the depths of hell on that day; but such an "event" surely happened outside of time, so "to date it to Holy Saturday" doesn't seem to make much sense.  So I suspect the reason why Jesus could not be raised immediately after death was that we needed the time in between to begin to reflect on the horror of what we had done.  Do we do that?  Does the Church encourage us to do that?

And so to the discovery of the empty tomb.  More and more I have felt the need to focus on the emptiness of the tomb, rather than the "mystery of the missing body" – to enter into the nothingness that is found wherever Christ is not.  That was my first thought as I stayed with the empty tomb.  But then another question came to me:  who is this Christ who is now nowhere to be seen?  The true Christ, the true Son of God, or the false Christ, the one whom we wanted him to be and thought he was – the one of whom Cleopas says "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel" (that is, our pet saviour there to look after us and do our bidding – and to hell with everyone else)?  So perhaps the tomb was empty in one sense because every false understanding of Christ had been demolished on the Cross and the empty tomb underlined that all such understandings had gone for ever.  Could that help explain why it was that when the true Christ was raised from the dead his closest followers had such a hard time recognising him?

More about the issue of recognition shortly, but a related issue for me is what light this whole Easter experience sheds on the idea, central to so much of Jesus' own teaching, that to follow him we must "die to self".  Just as we have false images of Christ so we each have a false self which we present to others and try so hard to believe in ourselves.  (Thomas Keating is particularly helpful on all this.)  Is it not to this false self that we are called to die; and when we do that, when we strip away every last bit of self-delusion, what are we left with?  Perhaps we need to look inside the tomb and see for ourselves: is one day enough to see the emptiness that is all that remains?

What then should we do?  Like Peter (and Paul) we know the answer, don't we?  We need to receive the Holy Spirit, a.k.a. the Risen Christ, and let him be our true self, our life.  Isn't that what it means to be raised with Christ?  Isn't that what it means to be Easter people?   Well, maybe, but I need more time.  The Easter Season is going too fast.

We must hurry on to confront the problem of recognition.  At the heart of the three great stories involving resurrection appearances we find the common theme of the difficulties those who should have known Jesus best had in recognising the Risen Christ.  Mary at the tomb thinks he is the gardener; the disciples on the road to Emmaus walk for some miles with him and assume he is some sort of visitor to Jerusalem out of touch with what's been happening there; and in the so-called Galilean fantasia in John 21 the stranger on the shore is not recognised by the disciples until he repeats his guide to good fishing.  What is the problem here? 

In one sense nothing has changed.  Think for a moment of the episode on the lake when Jesus stood up and calmed the sea.  Do remember what the disciples said? "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"  And, of course, there are other instances in the gospels when they struggled to work out who Jesus was – usually when he had done something "miraculous".  So there always was a problem in recognising the Son of God rather than Jesus of Nazareth.

But, of course, with the resurrection everything has changed, and our thinking and understanding, our "spiritual seeing" struggles to keep up.  Yes, we know that the one who was dead is now alive.  But as to how it is that he is now alive...ask him.  He is of the ages.  He will speak for himself.

Acts.  Now to give credit where it's due, The Lectionary starts this reading in exactly the right place: Therefore let the entire house of Israel know with certainty that God has made him both Lord and Messiah, this Jesus whom you crucified.  As the great comic books of my past would put it  POW!!  When have you heard preaching that comes anywhere close?  And that's what makes their response all the more wonderful.  No attempt at evasion, self-justification, dissembling or downright lying.  No sending for the lawyers – not even a plea of lack of knowledge or intention.  They plead guilty to all charges; and because of that there IS a way forward.  Their remorse is genuine – "they were cut to the heart" – and their desire to do something (to make amends) is clear.  They want a fresh start and that is all that is needed: Peter shows them the way (and the truth and the life).

Taking It Personally.

• Start with a period of self-examination and confession.  Try to recall a specific occasion on which you said something, did something, or thought something that was unloving.  As you replay it, monitor your feelings, and be particularly alert to any attempt to shift the blame or evade responsibility.  (It might take two to tango but you are only responsible for your missteps.)
• Focus on verse 41, and particularly on the words "those who welcomed his message", implying that some who heard him did not welcome the message.  Re-read verse 36, hearing it as addressed to you.  Do you welcome it?
• Tough as his message was, 3000 were converted that day.  What does that tell you about the "secret" of evangelism?  How does the proclamation and teaching in your community of faith measure up?
• Read verse 42.  How do you measure up?

 

 

Peter.  As stated above, we really need to read the whole of this first chapter.  Notice how it is balanced between the work of Christ and the work of us as believers.  The NRSV brings this out nicely with its subheadings of "A Living Hope" for verses 3-12, and "A Call to Holy Living" for verses 13-25.  Of course, Christ's work comes first, but it is completed in our response of faith.  The unifying element throughout this chapter is the work of the Holy Spirit.  Indeed, the letter is addressed to those who have been "sanctified by the Spirit to be obedient to Jesus Christ".  In other words we are only capable of "holy living" because we have received and been empowered by the Holy Spirit.  Perhaps verses 22-25 should be treated as a summary, or a bringing together, of the two parts of the chapter.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Start with verses 13-16; and slow down – don't go too fast!  Ask the Spirit to guide you through this passage.  What changes may the Spirit be asking you to make?
• Move on to verses 17-21.  How personally do you take these verses?  What were some of the "futile ways inherited from your ancestors" from which you have been set free?
• Close with reflection on verses 22-23.  Notice the past tense.  How true are they of you?

 

Luke.  Luke must surely have been Shakespeare's favourite gospel writer!  The hidden identity leading to high comedy that is always on the very edge of farce is shown at its most dramatic and effective in this wonderful story.  It works so well in this way that we can easily overlook the fact that it is one of the most theologically crafted stories in this gospel.  It is a road story (read "spiritual journey"), as so many other great stories are; and, although two men are walking along the road, only one has a name; the other could be you, me, or anybody else who has difficulty in seeing Christ even when he's at our side.  In verse 9 Cleopas even calls the Risen Christ a "stranger".  Next comes a brilliant summary of the story so far: in just 6 verses Cleopas recounts the story from Jesus' ministry right through to the empty tomb.  Then the Risen Christ – the real Jesus as opposed to the "gentle Jesus meek and mild" beloved of Christian children of all ages – challenges them head on.  They have understood nothing: they have got the Scriptures – they have got him – all wrong.  Had they really been open to what the Spirit had been saying for centuries through the Scriptures they would have known all that happened had been foreseen by the prophets.

 

Notice how Jesus was walking on ahead, and appeared to be continuing on.  This is another motif we find in Matthew – "he is going ahead of you to Galilee".  Always the journey home to God continues, but with pauses along the way.  Here is one such pause Luke shows us as the Christic apparition gives way to the Sacramental Christ.  We have a new way to recognise Christ is our midst.  May we do just that every time we gather at the Holy Table.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Pray your way slowly through this story.  Are there any particular words or phrases that strike you.  Stay with them until they have said all they have to tell you.
• Notice how the disciples first have to surrender their false understanding of Jesus (as restorer of the nation's freedom and fortune) before they are open to the real truth of his identity.  What false understanding of Christ may you have hindering your openness to the inflowing Spirit?
• How much does this story help you to go deeper into the mystery of Holy Communion?  Do you recognise the Risen Christ in the bread and wine?
• This Sunday, put aside you prayer book for the Great Thanksgiving.  Let others give the congregational responses.  Focus on the paten and chalice.  Listen to the words spoken by the priest.  Watch the elevation, fracture and other movements of the priest.  Ask the Spirit to open your eyes that you may truly recognise the Risen Christ as the bread is taken, blessed, broken and given.  And slow down – make the moment last – even if you might be holding somebody else up!
• When you return to your pew spend time in reflection on the Emmaus experience you have just had, and be thankful.

Second Sunday of Easter

April 27                                NOTES FOR REFLECTION                 Second Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 2:14a, 22-32; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

Theme:  All sorts of possibilities this week, some more obvious than others.  The very brave might want to make something of the fact that this week Anzac Day (and all that that involves) falls exactly one week after Good Friday (and all that that means).*  A safer option may be something like "No Turning Back" for reasons that may become clearer in these notes.  I'm leaning towards "This Man and No Other", if only because it seems to capture the essence of Peter's message in our reading from the Book of Acts.  In fact, a direct quote from the end of this passage may be a good choice of theme this week: "This Jesus God Raised Up".

[*I noticed a brief reference in the newspaper this week to the death in 1918 of the German flying ace, Manfred von Richthofen, better known as the Red Baron.  It said "he was credited with 80 kills of the enemy".  Think about that word "credited" – and about the identity of those referred to as "the enemy".  Kyrie eleison!]

Introduction.  It might seem a little strange to start this week's readings with an extract from Peter's Pentecost sermon, but it fits perfectly with the magnificent passage from John's gospel.  The Risen Christ appears to his GUILTY disciples.  Only when we grasp this can we hope to understand that, in coming to THEM, he is enacting divine forgiveness in the face of all human failure.  Likewise, Peter, having received such forgiveness (and having understood himself as guilty), begins to preach in the same mode: he preaches to the GUILTY, not to condemn them but to open their eyes to their need for that same divine forgiveness.  (More about that in next week's readings.)  This same Peter may or may not have been the author of the letter from which our second lesson is taken this week.  But whoever wrote it, it is surely one of the most positive, uplifting and encouraging passages in the Scriptures: and what a wonderful antidote it is to all the annual nonsense to which we are subjected "in the name of Easter" in the media!

And as for "Warbirds Over Wanaka"!  Could there be a less appropriate time for such an event!

Background.  In my former existence I was involved for about 20 years in law reform; so perhaps it's not surprising that I find myself every year at this time of the year pondering the reform of Easter – at least, pondering the reform of the observance of Easter in the Church and in our society in general.  To start with the easy stuff, I would remove Good Friday and Easter Monday from the list of statutory holidays, and I would apply the same trading laws to Easter Sunday as apply to every other Sunday; and I must confess that I would thoroughly enjoy the uproar that such a proposal would provoke.  A major part of my enjoyment would be watching those who would be in the vanguard of the protests.  Although most advocates for change from the commercial sector are careful not to spell it out, the subtext seems to be that it is we nasty Christians who are interfering with their basic right to make money whenever they can, and that we have no right to impose our narrow, outdated beliefs on others.

But, of course, what the garden centre operators, and the so-called hospitality industry, and retailers in areas like Wanaka really want is not the removal of Good Friday and Easter Monday from the list of statutory holidays at all: want they want is to be allowed to trade on those statutory holidays.  In other words, they want their customers to observe the statutory holidays, while they themselves do not.  So as an non-recovering reformer I hope the Church will take the initiative in seeking the removal of Good Friday and Easter Monday from the list of statutory holidays, and any particular restrictions on trading on easter Sunday, leaving Christians to observe those days as holy days freed (at the very least) from the obscenity of Warbirds over Wanaka, and the State can then decide when to have an alternative long weekend, the principal object of which would be to pay special honour to Mammon in whatever manner (according to whatever rites) that particular god's devotees desire.

Right.  That's society sorted, now what about the Church?  I ended last week with a grumble about what seems to be a growing trend to drop observances of Holy (Maundy) Thursday.  In the same cantankerous mood I want to question what seems to be a fairly common practice these days to have a time of fellowship (translation: a cup of tea and a hot-cross bun) following a Good Friday observance.   Surely there can be no fellowship among us while our Lord and Victim hangs on the cross?  (And if you were jolted by that word "Victim" read again Peter's sermon and John's description of that Easter evening "re-union".)  When I realised that the church I was attending on Good Friday was about to "adjourn to the lounge") I found myself impelled (and I might almost say "propelled") to leave in such a hurry that I dropped first my hat and then one of my gloves!

On a more positive note, one thing I learned this time was the importance of our resurrection language.  Twice during my sermon on Easter Day I caught myself referring to Jesus being "raised back to life", and had to correct myself.  I haven't checked every reference in the Scriptures, but I do think that the word "back" in that phrase is dangerous.  The Resurrection did not restore Jesus to his former existence; and it certainly did not erase or nullify the Crucifixion.  Jesus was "raised from the dead" precisely as the Crucified One.  Forgiveness does not remove the historical reality of our offences: it re-creates the relationship between the offender and the victim.  That, it seems to me, is at the heart of John's story about the encounter on the Easter evening.

But here is one of the most disturbing stories I have ever read, quoted by Rowan Williams in his book Resurrection, and set in Ulster during the time of "The Troubles":

A mother noticed that her teenage son was in obvious distress and fear; when questioned, he admitted that he was involved with a (Protestant) para-military group, which had ordered him to perform a killing locally, or else face 'execution' himself.  The mother was able to say eventually that being killed was preferable to killing; that night, her son hanged himself.

By killing himself, the son had not only refused to commit the sin of killing others; he had also refused to allow others to commit the sin of killing him.    From Good Friday to Anzac Day, this story speaks to all of us who profess the name of the Crucified and Risen Lord.

And here's a question that occurred to me for the first time ever while I was out for a walk on Wednesday of this week: did the risen Lord appear to his mother?  There doesn't seem to be any reference to it in the Scriptures.  What do you think?

Acts.  What we have here purports to be the first Christian sermon ever preached: at the very least, it is an example of the preaching of the Christian community in its earliest years.  How different it is from most of the preaching we serve up today!  It is direct and confrontational from the first word to the last.  Sadly, Peter lapses into some biblical exegesis in between the first word and the last, but even that does little to quell the power of his words.  In a word he is personal. He names his audience (target): "You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say": and he names the one about whom, and in whose name, he is preaching – "Jesus of Nazareth".  He uses the very name by which he was known to those Peter is addressing.  He reminds them of what "you yourselves know" about "this man" – his "deeds of power, wonders and signs"; and then he proclaims the indictment against them: "this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law."  And he rounds off this part of his message with his ringing affirmation of faith and personal witness all rolled into one: "This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses."  Wow!  How did they react to such in-your-face preaching?  To be continued...

Taking It Personally.

• Notice how Peter stresses "this man" and "you".  No principles, no generalisations, no platitudes, and definitely no punches pulled.  He is preaching about Jesus to you.  How do you react?  He is charging you: how do you plead?
• Notice the references in verses 24 and 32 to God having "raised him up".  Do you agree that this is different from "raised him back to life", or am I just playing with words?

 

Peter.  Now we focus on the question, what does the Resurrection of Jesus mean for those who believe in him?  And here we have, not so much an early Christian sermon, as an early Christian creed.  It is a statement of faith.  The community of faith of the time this letter was written had already done a great deal of theological reflection on the significance of Christ's Resurrection.  It is the bedrock of Christian hope: because of the Resurrection we dare to hope that not even death can separate us from God.  Notice how the passage unites the past, the present and the future in our faith: it is rooted in what has already happened; it provides confidence for a glorious revelation in the future; and it gives an assurance that we are already in the process of receiving the outcome of our faith, our salvation.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Ponder this passage prayerfully, phrase by phrase, as you reflect on your own Easter experience this year.    Be completely honest with yourself.  Are you rejoicing "with an indescribable and glorious joy"?  Or are you missing something?
• Read the passage again.  Any better?

 

John.  There is so much in this amazing passage that we really ought to stretch it over some weeks.  We tend to think of this as "the Thomas story", and so skip over the earlier stuff.  Let's slow down.  Let's take the first verse, then pause and listen.  Can we not hear an echo coming to us all the way from Genesis 1:1-5?  It was on the first day that God separated darkness and light, night and day; and so into the darkness of that room, the Light of the world suddenly shines forth.  Just as the tomb could not contain Jesus, so now locked doors cannot keep him out.  He enters the holding cell, full of those who have failed him so miserably.  He greets them, not with words of rebuke or vengeance, but of peace.  Then comes the all-important verse 20: "After this, he showed them his hands and his side."  Time for another pause.  So often we seem to assume that he does this to convince them that it really is him, and not some "random apparition"; but surely there is more to it than that.  After all, there is no reference to his wounds in the other resurrection stories.  Is he not preparing the ground for what is to come in verse 23?  He is showing them the reality of his suffering, the suffering they and all humanity have heaped upon him, so that, when he gives to them the power to forgive or not to forgive, they are aware of the enormity of the forgiveness they have themselves received.  [Yes, it's the Parable of the Unforgiving Servant Mark II.]  It is also the practical demonstration of Christ's extraordinary prayer on the cross: "Forgive them, Father, for they do not know what they are doing."

 

Which gets me to Thomas.  Here again there is so much in this short passage that we can only begin to scratch the surface.  His mere absence speaks to me of the breakdown of fellowship that inevitably flows from the death of Love on the cross.  That breakdown is underlined when Thomas refuses to believe the testimony of his former associates.  However, during the week that follows Thomas thaws a little, symbolised, I suspect, by that reference to the doors.  Last week they were locked; this week they are merely closed.  In the same way Thomas is now not quite so closed off – he is open enough to the possibility of the Resurrection to come along to the meeting with the others.  But he remains to be convinced.  What is it he wants to see and touch for himself?  The very wounds that he and all humanity have inflicted on Jesus; but when the Risen Christ offers him the opportunity to do just that, he doesn't need to accept.   "My Lord and my God" says it all.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Pray through this passage using your imagination.  Place yourself in the room with them.  Experience the darkness, the desolation, the fear, the emotional exhaustion, the emptiness, the shattered hopes and dreams, the disillusionment.
• How do you feel about Jesus now?  Are you angry – do you feel let down?  After all you have given up, after all you have committed to his cause?  Did he bring it on himself?
• Or do you feel guilty – guilty for running away, for not being there for him in his hour of need?  What about these others in the room?  Are they any better than you – or any worse?  Look at Peter; did you use to look up to him?  What about now?  Can you still look to him for leadership – or to any of the others?
• And then – suddenly Jesus is here standing among you.  What is your immediate reaction?  Once the initial reaction has worn off, how are you feeling?  Embarrassed?  Relieved?  Overjoyed?  Or just plain washed-out?
• Is there anything you would like to say to Jesus?
• When you are ready, come back to the present moment.  Read verse 31.  Do you really believe that Jesus is "the Messiah, the Son of God"?  If so, tell him.
• End with a time of praise and thanksgiving. 

Easter Day

April 20                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Easter Day

Texts: Acts 10:34-43; Colossians 3:1-4; Matthew 28:1-10

Theme:  I'm preaching at St Barnabas, Warrington on Sunday and I have already chosen my theme: it is "The Easter Experience".  And I have already come up with a little introductory prayer: "Send your Holy Spirit that Easter may be for us the personal experience of the Risen Christ, and that we, filled with his Spirit's grace and power, may be renewed for the service of your kingdom."  I have, of course, pinched most of that from the epiclesis on page 423 of our Prayer Book, so feel free to pinch it from me.

Introduction.  The Lectionary offers us some choice of readings for Easter Day, insisting only that we use the passage from Acts as one or other of the Lessons.  That requirement means that we must choose between Jeremiah 31:1-6 and Colossians 3:1-4 for the other Lesson.  Jeremiah would be an interesting possibility, concerned as it is with the return of the exiles.  No doubt, the idea here is about the ultimate vindication of the people of faith; but if you were choosing this reading it might be worth exploring the application of the theme of the returning exile directly to the Resurrection.  Who is the returning exile – Christ or the believers?  Similarly, we are offered a choice of two gospel passages, the other option being John 20:1-18.  As a preacher I would have been tempted to go with John: as with everything in this gospel his account of the resurrection is profound, nuanced, the product of years of prayerful reflection and thought.  More than enough material for a good sermon!  Put Matthew's version alongside John's and the contrast could hardly be more stark.  Matthew's version is raw, uncooked, even jumbled.  And therein lies the reason that I am glad the choice wasn't left to me; for it is precisely in its rawness that this earlier account strikes its note of authenticity.  It reads like a stunned attempt to describe the unimaginable event of the Resurrection.  Reflection on its significance comes later, and John provides it.  But first, let us try to savour the experience as the earliest witnesses did.  That seems to me what Matthew is trying to help us do.

There's that word "experience" again; and here surely is the reason why we need this reading from Acts to get us under way.  What we have is a brief homily from Peter, but one borne out of his own experience.  And what a pity we always stop at verse 43.  Why not continue through to the end of the chapter (only 5 more verses, after all): isn't that precisely the sort of response we should expect when the gospel is preached well?  And here we need the short sharp lesson from Paul's great letter to the Colossians.  To experience the resurrection means to enter into an entirely new life – to adopt an entirely new outlook – to put everything else in a new perspective.  Of course, it doesn't happen overnight: it will always be a work in progress: even the great mystic who wrote the Fourth Gospel had only got so far along the road.  Paul assures us that there is so much more yet to be revealed.

 

Background.  One of Bishop Kelvin's great gifts is an ability to speak about his own spiritual experiences in a humble, almost self-deprecating way.  I have seen and heard him preach in this way on a number of occasions, the latest being at the Te Harinui Regional Event held recently at St John's, Waikouaiti.  He spoke about "a chance" meeting with 2 young men who "happened" to arrive in Dunedin one day and turned up in the Cathedral, where they met Kelvin's wife, Clemency.  On learning that they had nowhere to spend the night, Clemency invited them home to the Vicarage in Roslyn, even though the Wrights were already late shifting out of the Vicarage following his appointment as Bishop.  As the story unfolded it became a wonderful account God's providential care and guidance of the young men and of the Wrights, and of how slow Kelvin was to recognise God's involvement in the whole thing. Kelvin described himself at this point as "not the sharpest knife in the draw"!

Doesn't that exactly fit St Peter throughout the whole wonderful tenth chapter of the Book of Acts?  And doesn't it exactly fit so many of us who either do not notice what God is doing all around us, or only notice when God is gracious enough to keep at it until we finally do?  One thing that perhaps distinguishes the Bishop's stories from those surrounding St Peter is their ordinariness.  Peter's vision is pretty overwhelming: at least, it would be for most of us.  Far from being overwhelmed by it, Peter entered into a debate with God about the orthodoxy of its message!  But look what is happening on the periphery.  While Peter is still trying to get his head around the vision, three strangers turn up at the house where Peter is staying, with a somewhat improbable story.  Who were they?  Should Peter have been more prudent – checked them out before letting them in, and certainly before heading off with them?  Should Clemency and Kelvin have been more careful with the strangers who "found" them in the cathedral?

That was the fun part of the Bishop's proclamation.  Then came the more disturbing part.  We all have experiences like this from time to time, don't we, he said in a cheery offhand way, and we all suddenly found the ground deeply fascinating.  We have them but we don't want to talk about them, do we?  In fact, one of the reasons why I have been struck by Bishop Kelvin's willingness to talk in this way is that in my experience he is almost unique among clergy, including bishops.  Some have been great raconteurs, always ready with a story drawn from their time in ministry.  But most of their stories are about human foibles, their own included.  I can't recall an occasion when a bishop or priest referred in a sermon to a personal experience of God in the sort of way that Bishop Kelvin does.

Yet isn't this what Easter is all about?  I was astonished to read an article by Ian Harris the other day that I agreed with: even he says that "something must have happened" to transform the disciples from a bunch of scared failures into apostles of such power that their message still reverberates around the world 2,000 years later.  So please join me in my Easter prayer this Sunday: "Send your Holy Spirit that Easter may be for us the personal experience of the Risen Christ, and that we, filled with his Spirit's grace and power, may be renewed for the service of your kingdom."

Acts.  We really do need to read the whole chapter to get what's going on in this extract.  Notice how the story is "worked up" from both sides of the great divide – Gentile and Jew.  Cornelius is a soldier and a devout man of prayer.  Peter is, well, Peter!  But each is given a vision, and a set of instructions.  Cornelius obeys without question – Peter argues; but in the end God brings them together.  And here is a classic example of theology in action.  Blessed be Christ the prince of peace, who breaks down the walls that divide, as our liturgy puts it; and of course St Paul has much to say about "making the two, one".  But here is all that theological and liturgical stuff worked out at ground level.  And both sides know that something momentous is going on.  And so Peter starts there, in verse 28, identifying the elephant in the room.  He then hands over to his "co-presenter": perhaps at this point each is really speaking to his own constituency.  So when Peter starts his homily, he can assert that God shows no favouritism, not as something he has been taught by a theologian, but as something that he and Cornelius have experienced.  Having established that common foundation, the rest is pretty simple and straightforward – a brief summary of the story so far.  But please read verses 44-48 as well: in particular, note verse 45.  Despite all that has already happened, and what Peter has just said, the support team still hadn't understood the message!  Clearly, they were not the sharpest knives in the drawer.

Taking It Personally.

• Recall one of those experiences where you became aware that God was up to something in your life.  How long did it take for the penny to drop?  Have you ever told anyone about such an experience?  Why might you be reluctant to do so?
• Has anyone told you about such an experience of theirs?  How did you react?
• How would your local church react if, while the preacher this Sunday was still speaking, "the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word"?  How would you react?  Would you be thrilled, or would you prefer the Holy Spirit to fall somewhere else?  Why?

 

Colossians.  The first two chapters of this epistle are always worth reading; but if you really are pushed for time (even in Holy Week) at least spare a few minutes to read verses 20-23 of chapter 2 by way of introduction to today's brief passage.  Now notice the past tense in this passage, which is such a feature of this letter, and indeed of so much of Paul's writing.  We have already died; we have already been raised with Christ; our life is already hidden with Christ in God.  Only the final and full revelation of the completed Body of Christ still remains in the future.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• There is so much in this little passage, it is hard to take it all in.  It might be time to head for the bathroom mirror and tell yourself, phrase by phrase, what Paul is saying to the church at Colossae.
• And what about extending the traditional Easter proclamation, thus:  Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed!  And we have been raised up with him!  Alleluia!  Alleluia!
• Then set your mind on things that are above.  What might that mean for you in this coming week?

 

Matthew.  As I said earlier, this is a very jumbled account of that first Easter morning.  Here the women are not going to anoint the body but simply to see the tomb; they are not going under cover of darkness but as dawn is breaking.  Suddenly there is an earthquake, not noted in the other gospel accounts, and rather surprisingly attributed to the angel.  It is the second strong earthquake in three days (27:51), but this time there is no report of tombs opening up.  The guards are so terrified they become catatonic, but the women hold it together well enough to hear the angel's instructions to them.  Do they take up his invitation to have a look inside the tomb?  We're not told.  They set off to find the disciples, only to be intercepted by the Risen Christ.  They prostrate themselves, taking hold of his feet, and worship him.  Then he gives them the same instructions the angel had already given them.  Matthew seems rushed, anxious to get on to his account of the chicanery and corruption of the guards (verses 11-16).  Perhaps he suspects that it is not the empty tomb that is of primary importance: it is the encounters with the Risen Christ that will kick-start the whole mission and ministry of the Church.  Those encounters could have worked without the tomb being empty: the reverse is not the case.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• What importance do you attach to the fact that the tomb was empty?  Do you agree or disagree that that would give rise to questions rather than answers?
• Notice the involvement of three senses through which the women experienced the Risen Christ – they saw him, they heard him, and they touched him.  Why is touch so important here?
• When you next receive Communion, how many of your senses will be involved? 
• Pray that this Sunday you will truly be aware of the Risen Christ in your midst and within you.
• Who will you run to tell?

 

And a final grumble.  Fewer and fewer of our churches seem to be holding Maundy Thursday services.  The Triduum seems to have become the Biduum.  Can we no longer spare the time to pray with Christ in Gethsemane?  Will we soon give away Good Friday as well?

 

 

Psalm Sunday

April 13                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Palm Sunday

Texts:  [Liturgy of the Palms] Matthew 21:1-11; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29:  [Liturgy of the Passion] Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14-27:66 (or Matthew 27:11-54)*

[*Note.  Those responsible for shaping a service for Palm Sunday have some difficult choices to make here.  I must confess that my practice has been to cut to the chase, omit the Liturgy of the Palms, omit the lesson and the psalms, omit the sermon, and have the full Passion narrative read in three or four distinct “blocks”, interspersed with periods of silence or suitably quiet music or hymns.  Generally, people have found this helpful, and it does serve as a useful entree to Holy Week.  But now I think this has gone too far.  There is great value, I think, in the contrast between the razzmatazz of the Triumphal Entry and the agony of the Passion.  And nowhere is that contrast brought out better than in the two psalms set for today.  So while I’m not generally an advocate for the widespread use of the psalms in our worship services (except where they are to be sung or chanted), I’m inclined to think using both of them in a fairly short time span could be helpful this Sunday.  The difficulty is to avoid burdening the service with yet more words, when our services are already rather wordy. 

My suggested solution is as follows.  Have the Liturgy of the Palms before the service, preferably with procession.  If for any reason the procession is impracticable, I would still use the readings for that liturgy before the start of the service.  When we get to the Proclamation, I would have someone read psalm 31:9-16, and then follow that with the full Passion narrative, either as a continuous reading, or in blocks.  I would have no other readings, and no sermon.  I am a strong advocate of the importance of preaching, but there is simply nothing to be said about the Passion.  The story speaks for itself and anything a preacher might say is likely to detract from it.  Of course, if for some reason (and I personally can’t think of a good enough one) the intention is to use the shorter gospel option it might be that the lessons, or even a short sermon, could be included.

Background.  As regular readers of the ODT will already know, we had two visitors from York join us for our parish Eucharist three weeks or so ago at St Barnabas, Warrington.  We didn’t know they were coming; they just turned up as visitors do from time to time.  They had been invited by one of our younger members, who had met them over breakfast where they were staying in Dunedin.  So it was that the Archbishop of York, John Sentamu, and his wife, Margaret joined our usual congregation for worship, and, of course, for a cuppa after the service.  John was dressed in “civvies”, and Margaret in a dress.  I must confess I can’t remember if she was also wearing a hat; but if she was we had not been given due warning so none of our women parishioners had been urged to do so.  And for the same reason, there was no one at the service who had come to catch a glimpse of our distinguished visitors: all who were there were there to worship God.

It reminded me of an occasion some years ago when I attended Evensong at St Paul’s Cathedral in Wellington.  As I came in I noticed a man in a smart suit sitting towards the front.  I thought I knew him from somewhere so I gave him a slight nod and carried on.  Part way through the service I suddenly realised who it was: it was the then Governor-General, Sir Michael Hardie-Boyes.  What was he doing there?  Nothing official; he was simply attending Evensong, as many Anglicans still do when given the opportunity.  I have no idea whether protocol required advance notice to be given to the Dean, but there was certainly no advance publicity, no crowds, no indication that regular non-attenders had suddenly had an overwhelming desire to worship God in that place that evening.

Contrast that with what will happen at St Paul’s Cathedral, Dunedin this Palm Sunday.  It was reported that the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge had expressed a desire to attend an “ordinary” Palm Sunday service.  What a pity they hadn’t expressed that desire to John Sentamu who could have recommended a nice little church just 20 minutes or so north of the city, where they could have shared in an ordinary service with committed worshippers and been assured of the same warm welcome we give to all our visitors.  As it is they will attend a ticket-only service with a large number of people who (in most cases) have not attended a worship service for many years, or who usually attend ordinary services in their ordinary local churches, but have abandoned them this Sunday in the hope of catching a glimpse, not of the divine mystery at the heart of all our worship, but of the royal couple.  Oh, and by the way, ladies a small hat or a fascinator, please  - we wouldn’t want the Duchess to feel conspicuous, would we?  (No, I haven’t made this up – it’s in the latest email from the Diocese: besides, I heard St Paul himself laughing uproariously at our sudden desire to adopt his teaching on head covering for women!)

Could there be a more wonderful modern parable for Palm Sunday?  Look, your (future) king is coming to you...says Matthew the royal commentator quoting the prophet Zechariah.  He also tells us that a very large crowd had gathered to welcome this celebrity as he came into their city.  Who were they – what or who had they come to see?  Part of the rent-a-crowd that assembles whenever they think something is going on? How many of them came to pay him homage, how many of them understood who he was or what he had come to do?  How many cared?  How many had any intention at all of listening to his message, much less following in his footsteps?  One percent, do you think?  Less than that, maybe?  About the same percentage of those who will line the streets outside our cathedral?

When he entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, “Who is this?”  The crowds were saying, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”  At least they allowed him in.  This Sunday he would need a ticket to enter our cathedral.

The Liturgy of the Palms.  There is a carnival atmosphere about this celebration.  Think bands, buskers, cameras and cell-phones, bewildered little children in Plunket-approved strollers and sunhats, waving little flags, and hoping for ice-creams, lollies, and other treats.  And then there’s that dear little donkey – don’t you just love donkeys?  Who cares who this guy is, or what he’s really up to!  We need some excitement every now and then.  And the verses from Psalm 118 capture the mood very well: this is a psalm of victory, over what we may not be too sure, but it feels good to shout and dance and let ourselves go for a time.  (Maybe that’s what celebrity visits are for.)  The people of Israel knew what tough times were like; and so when things went well for them it was worth celebrating.

Taking It Personally.

·        Are you a natural crowd-joiner?  Have you ever waited for hours to catch a glimpse of some important or famous person? Why?  What did you go out to see?  Was it a thrill or a disappointment?

·        Who would you most like to see in person?  Why?

·        Are you good at celebrating the goodness of God?  Is your local church good at celebrating the goodness of God?

·        Read these verses from psalm 118 through slowly and prayerfully.  Do they express your feelings, or are you aware of a “disconnect”?

·        As you prepare for Holy Week, do a spiritual stock-take.  How different from any other week will it be?  Have you truly let Jesus into your life?  Have you welcomed him joyfully?

·        Are you now one who comes to others “in the name of the Lord”.

 

Isaiah and Psalm 31:9-16.  The contrast is shocking, isn’t it?  On the one hand, a rock-star welcome: on the other, verse 6 of this passage from Isaiah.  Whether we are thinking of the welcome Jesus received on Palm Sunday, or of the welcome our royal visitors receive wherever they go, the words of this one verse are literally shocking.  And the shock is made all the greater by the verses that preceded it, as we realise that the “Servant” is one of great faith, who starts each day by listening to God, learning from him, understanding that we cannot teach others until we ourselves have first learned.  And it is all God’s doing; God has given him a teacher’s tongue, after opening his ear.  His ability to listen to the word, and to teach it, is all the gift of God.  And even though he suffers grievously for his ministry of proclamation, he knows that God will vindicate him in the end.  Both these extreme are underlined in these well-chosen verses from psalm 31, which clash so violently with the victory chant from psalm 118.  Now we have a personal lament of great torment (verses 11-13), followed by a staunch declaration of faith in the goodness of God.  Both these passages, then, look forward to the horror of Good Friday and the glory of Easter Day.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• How much of your daily quiet time is spent in listening rather than talking to God?  Can your practice be best described as “morning by morning” or “occasional”?
• Do you know how to “sustain the weary with a word”?  Can you recall an occasion in the last week or so when you felt that something you said to someone might have sustained them in that way?
• Can you recall an occasion in the last week or so when someone sustained you in your weariness?  Have you thanked God for that?
• Have you been hurt, insulted or abused for your faith at any time?  Do you tend to “keep your faith to yourself” for fear of a hurtful response?
• Read through this passage from psalm 31.  Are there any points of contact between the experiences described by the psalmist and your own experiences?  Call each such experience to mind, then close with a slow reading of verses 14-16.  Make those words your own.

 

Philippians.  I’m not sure that this reading “fits” on this day.  It is, after all, a reflection on the Passion rather than an anticipation or a description of it.  There are so many other days when it could be set down.  Perhaps its value here is to emphasise the corporate nature of our faith.  This is a plea to the whole body of believers to grow in unity with one another, to leave behind our own egos and agendas.  It is not a plea to each one of us to follow Christ’s example of humility and self-sacrifice in a sort of one-to-one private arrangement with him: rather we are to seek with all our fellow believers to be of one mind with them and they with us.  As we prepare to follow Christ to the cross this coming Holy Week perhaps that is the greatest challenge we face.  Kneeling before the cross we might ask ourselves how we “measure up” in the light of verses 3 and 4 in particular.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• So how do you measure up in the light of verses 3 and 4?  Are you aware of anything you have done in your local church “from selfish ambition or conceit?”
• Do you honestly “regard (all) others as better than [yourself]”?
• Do you really “look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others”?

 

The Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ according to St Matthew.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Take a small section of the narrative each day in the week.  Pray with your imagination, putting yourself in each scene.  Monitor your feelings.  Look at each of the people concerned.  Do not judge them.  Just observe them.  Try to understand them.  Which of them is most like you; which of them is least like you.  What do you learn about yourself by the end of this exercise?  Pray about it accordingly.