Sixth Sunday of Easter

May 25                                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Sixth Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 17:22-31; 1 Peter 3:13-21; John 14:15-21

Theme:  The idea of preparation is buzzing around in my head this week as we move ever closer to the great climax of the Easter Season, the coming of the Spirit at Pentecost.  And as I have been reflecting on this it has occurred to me that we are in a sort of Advent Season; as we need to prepare for the coming of Christ, so we need these last two weeks to prepare for the coming of the Spirit.  So I'm going with "Preparing the Way of the Spirit".

Introduction.  We begin this week with Paul's great effort to tackle the Athenians on their home ground, perhaps to underline that intellectual effort can only take us so far, even if we are as gifted at it as the Greeks were.  The resurrection does not make rational sense: evangelism by argument of that kind is never going to be hugely successful, even with a proponent like Paul.  Peter advocates a different approach: always be prepared to answer anyone who asks why we place our faith and hope in Christ.  Personal testimony, rather than intellectual rigour, makes converts.  But first, the Spirit must come, and John shows Jesus trying to prepare his disciples for that very advent.

Background.  Last week I must have distracted myself while preparing the Notes.  Having made some enigmatic remark about the person whom Stephen saw standing at the right hand of God, I meant to say more about the frequency with which Jesus identified himself – or, more accurately, seemed to refer to himself, as "the Son of Man".  In particular, in each of the three explicit cases where he spoke of his coming death and resurrection he used that terminology: the only exception that I can find off-hand is a general reference in Matthew 16:21, and that is not a direct quote from Jesus but an "editorial comment" from Matthew.  More typical is this from the next chapter (17:22-23): Jesus said to them, "The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into human hands, and they will kill him, and on the third day he will be raised."

Three brief points about this usage by Jesus of this term "Son of Man".  First, it is so pervasive throughout the gospels (although less frequent in John) that it is most unlikely that it was made up by the gospel writers for some theological reason: we may be pretty confident that Jesus used the term originally.  Secondly, nobody else did: apart from Stephen in his death throes, no one ever referred to Jesus as the Son of Man; and the term appears nowhere else in the New Testament (in Revelation 1:13 the reference is to "one like the Son of Man").  And thirdly, nobody seemed to ask Jesus who he was talking about when he spoke about the Son of Man except a member of a hostile crowd in John 12:34.

And here's another question the disciples never seemed to have asked whenever Jesus predicted his death and resurrection: then what?  "Lord, after you have been raised from the dead, what will you do next?"  Wouldn't that have been an obvious question to ask?  And if they had asked, the obvious answer would surely have been along the following lines: "Well, I shall appear to you so that you can be assured that I have been raised, and then I shall ascend to my Father in heaven, and we shall send to you the Holy Spirit to guide you until the end of the age."  Yet, according to the synoptic gospels the question was never asked and the answer was never given.  How the issue is dealt with in the Fourth Gospel we can see in this week's passage; but before that there is one more thing to say about this term "the Son of Man".

It seems widely accepted that the term is taken from Daniel 7:13-14.  Unfortunately, in our desire to use inclusive language the NRSV somewhat obscures the term by referring to "one like a human being", but the editors partially redeem themselves with a footnote to the effect that in Aramaic the text says "one like a son of man".  Whatever term is used, it is clear from the text that this mysterious figure is "eschatological"; and what is even more clear is that the use of those verses has shaped our mental picture of the so-called "Second Coming" of Christ ever since.  A classic example is found in Matthew 24:30.  In short, the belief in the early church that Christ would return in the immediate future was so dominant that no thought was given to any gap between the resurrection and the end of the age.  It would be a terrible but short period of trials and tribulations, after which those who held firm to the faith would be vindicated and raised up to the heavenly realms.

What then of the Ascension and Pentecost?  Despite the fact that all four gospels were written with the benefit of hindsight, there is precious little about these events in the first three gospels.  Matthew ends his gospel with the Risen Christ, already imbued with "all authority in heaven and on earth", commissioning the disciples for mission to the world, and promising to be with them to the end of the age.  Who knows where Mark finished his gospel!  Even in the all-too-obvious "add-on" the reference is to the Ascension only, and an assurance that the Lord continued to work with the church as it went about its mission.  Only Luke has anything like a prediction of the coming of the Spirit (24:49), followed by a clear reference to the Ascension, both of which he amplifies in the opening verses of the Book of Acts.  But notice the wording in that verse 49: "I am sending you what my Father promised."  Assuming that this is a reference to the gift of the Holy Spirit, when did the Father promise it?  According to Peter in his famous Pentecost sermon, the promise was made through the prophet Joel.  This surely is the clearest evidence possible that nobody thought that Jesus, before his death and resurrection, had made any prediction about the coming of the Spirit.

So what is John up to in this week's passage, and in the rest of the so-called "Farewell Discourses"?  The short answer is that he is clearly wrestling with a rather large gap between what has actually happened in the 60 or so years after Christ's death and resurrection and what believers had thought would happen during that period based on the apostles' teaching.  Why hadn't the Son of Man come on the clouds of heaven with power and great glory, as they had expected?  Why hadn't this present age ended so decisively?  Had something gone horribly wrong, or had they misunderstood what was to happen next?  John's first answer starts here at 14:15 and runs through to the end of this chapter.  But it seems that it didn't satisfy him, and he returned to it in chapters 15-17, a block widely believed to be a later interpolation between 14:31 and 18:1.  As I reflect on it, it seems to me that chapters 15-17 can best be understood as John's expansion – the fruit of yet further reflection – on what he has written in chapter 14:15-31.

And we have only two weeks in which to prepare ourselves for the coming of the Holy Spirit!

Acts.  Paul has been on the run for some time; hounded out of Thessalonica and Beroea, his security detail has brought him to Athens, and if you read verses 16-21 of this chapter 17 you can see why.  For anybody who enjoys a good verbal stoush it sounds an ideal place to visit; and I just love the description of the locals in verse 21!  It sounds like the annual convention of the New Atheists Association, except that there were a surprising number of open-minded people in the Areopagus.  Not surprisingly, the crunch point came when Paul mentioned the resurrection, but even so only some of the audience scoffed; others asked for a further meeting, and still others were convinced and joined the believers.  From Paul's point of view, a pretty good return for his time and effort.

Taking It Personally.

·        Read slowly though the passage, noting the various steps in Paul's argument.  How persuasive do you find his approach?

·        Paul observes the number of altars and concludes that they are a very "religious" people.  Is that the term you would use; or might you use "superstitious"?

·        What do you make of verse 24?  Why then do we have places of worship?

·        What do you make of verse 25?  Do we not serve God with our hands?

·        Now ponder verse 27: leaving aside our modern difficulties with the word "grope", does this describe your own spiritual search? 

·        Is God near to you?  Are you his offspring?

·        Re-read verse 31.  Granted that Paul is trying to be brief, what do you feel about the gist of the gospel being "the judgment of the world in righteousness by a man"?

 

Peter.  The epistles bearing Peter's name are not among the most interesting or entertaining in Scripture; but every now and then they reward the long-suffering reader with a nugget of pure gold.  In this week's passage verse 15 surely qualifies for that description.  Here is the key to real evangelism – or "faith-sharing" if that sounds less scary.  If someone asks us to recommend a film, a book, a car or a breed of dog we usually have no difficulty in explaining our choice: why then should we blush if asked to explain our faith?  Peter links our faith back to the resurrection, baptism, and even to the Ascension.  But that's all theological wrapping: the gift we offer to those who inquire is our experience of Christ in our hearts.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        What in the manner of your life might prompt someone to ask you why you believe in Jesus?

·        On a one-to-one basis, how would you explain your faith to a friend who inquires?

·        Pray for the opportunity to share your faith with someone this week.  Pray, too, that the Holy Spirit will give you the words to say when the opportunity arises.

 

John.  Last week we had the first 14 verses of this chapter 14.  It seemed to look backwards towards Easter, rather than forwards to what comes next.  Overall the tone was comforting and assuring.  Jesus is trying to reassure his disciples that life will go on, despite his forthcoming death.  Although the Ascension is not referred to directly, the idea weaves in and out of those verses; but there is no mention of the Holy Spirit.  The unity between the Father and the Son is stressed; and there is a possible hint of a future "coming" in verse 3.  But the exact relationship between the ascended Christ and his disciples seems a bit blurred.  They can ask him for help and it will be forthcoming; but it seems that he will be in heaven while they are here on earth.    The new stuff begins this week, and it begins with a verse we might not have noticed too much.  Verse 15 seems to be a condition precedent for the coming of the Spirit: only if we keep the new commandment to love one another will the Lord ask the Father to send the Holy Spirit/Advocate/Spirit of Truth.  He will be with us (believers) for ever; in fact, he will be in us.  So far, reasonably clear.  But what are we to make of verse 18?  Is this "coming" different from the coming of the Holy Spirit?  Similarly, in verse 20, will the Lord be in us as well as the Holy Spirit?  We are back to the problem Paul faced at the Areopagus: ultimately spiritual truths cannot be comprehended intellectually.  John is writing from his own experience of the Risen Christ and the Holy Spirit: we can only hope to understand from our own experience.

 

Taking It Personally

 

·        Do you agree or disagree that Jesus did not predict, prior to his death and resurrection, the coming of the Holy Spirit?  Does it matter?

·        What might you do to over the next two weeks to prepare for the coming of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost?

·        What do you make of verse 15?  Does it suggest that the Holy Spirit comes only to believers who love one another?  Does your local faith community "qualify"?

·        In one sentence, how would you summarise your present understanding of the presence of the Holy Spirit's work in your life?

Fifth Sunday of Easter

May 18                        NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Fifth Sunday of Easter

Texts:  Acts7: 55-60; 1 Peter 2:2-10; John 14:1-14

Theme:  At the risk of seeming obsessed, I don't think we can avoid returning to the theme of recognition this week.  It is obviously at the heart of our gospel passage, and I think our other two readings offer variations on that same theme.  So I'm leaning towards something like "Due Recognition", or "Recognising Christ, Recognising Ourselves".

Introduction.  We begin this week with the famous story of the stoning of Stephen, recognised as the first Christian martyr.  In his final moments he looks up to heaven and has no difficulty in recognising the Risen and Glorified Christ "standing at the right hand of God"; at least, that's whom we think he sees, although he gives him a different name/title.  Our second reading, continuing on from last week from the First Letter of Peter, identifies Christ in yet another way – he is now "a living stone".  What is even more astonishing is the way in which the author describes us: can we recognise ourselves in his words?  And finally we have John's version of Jesus' exasperation the night before he dies as he realises that the penny has still not dropped among his chosen disciples; they still do not recognise his true identity.

Background.  "Recognition" is a very hard-working word in the English language, and we are hearing a number of uses of it today.  In simple terms it means something like "to know again", or to bring back into our consciousness something that had been there before but was not in our immediate awareness at that moment.  We have all had the experience of seeing someone in the street who looks vaguely familiar but whom we can't immediately identify.  Then, sometimes, the brain comes up trumps, finds the correct file, and we "recognise" that person.  That can be particularly difficult if we "know" that the person we think it is should be overseas or in the North Island or in hospital or something, and so this person cannot be him.  Our rational brain tries to refute the messages coming to it from our eyes.  This is the sort of thing that was probably at play with the resurrection appearances.  His disciples (and Mary) had such difficulty in recognising the Risen Christ, not because he looked different, but because they "knew" Jesus was dead so whomever it was now standing before them could not possibly be him.

This week I was reading an obituary for an American singer, and the comment was made that, despite his great talent and his long career in the music industry, he never quite received the "recognition" he deserved.  Meanwhile, western political leaders, furious with Vladimir Putin for behaving in Crimea and the Ukraine in the way Imperialists throughout history (including Greek, Roman, British, French, German, American and every other brand you can think of), have been insisting that the international community will not "recognise" the annexation of Crimea or the various referenda being conducted in eastern parts of the Ukraine.  Presumably in the arcane world of international diplomacy that's considered strong stuff, even though in the world in which everyone else lives it seems more like a wilful refusal to face the facts.  [cf. Richard Dawkins (and his many Face Book friends and Twitter followers) in his refusal to accept what is, and has been for 2,000 years, blindingly obvious to millions of people, equally gifted scientists among them.]

When I was reading the obituary of the musician I suddenly found myself thinking of our first reading again.  Has Stephen received the recognition he deserved?  Yes, he is acknowledged as the first Christian martyr, and as a very strong influence in the conversion of St Paul himself.  But if you were asked to name the 6 most important people in the New Testament (apart from Jesus himself) would he make your list?  Off the top of your head, can you remember anything else about him?  Well, go back to chapter 6 and refresh your memory.  The happy state of affairs mentioned in our reading from Acts last week has dissolved already; ethnic factionalism, tribalism, call it what you will, has seen to that.  Cries of "That's not fair!" now fill the air instead of Psalms and Alleluias!  "Our widows are not receiving the same benefit given to your widows."

The leadership took a very pragmatic approach: it was a distribution problem, nothing deeper.  They assembled a team of deacons to attend to the matter, but with interesting qualifications.  They were "seven men of good standing, full of the Spirit and of wisdom".  Their task, in the somewhat demeaning words of the apostles, was "to wait on tables", leaving the apostles to "devote ourselves to prayer and to serving the word".  The people agreed instantly (this was long before Synods had been invented) and they chose Stephen and six others; and just in case we have a short-term memory problem we are again reminded that Stephen was "a man full of faith and the Holy Spirit".  Perhaps they should have known that such a man was never going to be content as a volunteer in the foodbank, as verse 8 makes clear: "Stephen, full of grace and power, did great wonders and signs among the people."  In other words, Stephen was a great all-round follower of Jesus, living like him, serving like him, loving like him, tried like him, condemned like him, dying for him, and all because, like him, he was full of the Holy Spirit.  So how come he's not in your top 6?  Have you given him the recognition he deserves?

And so to the gospel passage.  Last week I was rather hard on John, but I suspect I wasn't alone.  My guess is that in a large majority of our faith communities last Sunday was still referred to as "Good Shepherd Sunday", even though verse 11 was not included in the reading set for that day.  (I would be even more confident that in none of our faith communities was it referred to as "Gate Sunday".)  Perhaps the importance of that passage – and the reason for its inclusion in the readings for the Easter Season – was to be found in the need to show that the great dispersal (destruction of fellowship) that seemed unavoidable on Good Friday was averted through the presence of the Risen Christ resuming the divine role of shepherd of the flock; and also on the need of the flock to develop the ability to recognise his voice rather than his face.

However that might be, it seems clear that John in particular was concerned throughout his gospel with the issue of recognition.  Recall the great stories that are unique to this gospel – beginning, perhaps with the calling of Nathaniel and the wedding at Cana, and continuing through the great "dialogue stories" with Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the man born blind, and Lazarus.  In all those cases the issue arises at some stage of the play as to who is this man really?  A great teacher, yes, but is he more than that?  A great prophet, yes, but is he more than that?  A great miracle-worker and healer, yes, but is he more than that?  The Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world, as Martha puts it?  Yes, but what exactly does all that mean?

Put all this together and perhaps we can see that at the heart of the problem of recognition, pre- and post-mortem, is a failure to recognise that Jesus is in every sense fully human AND in every sense fully divine.  That, I think, is the conclusion John came to, and that is why he wrote what he did in today's gospel reading – not because it happened the way he describes it but because he is describing the ongoing struggle of Thomas and Philip, and all the others, to recognise Jesus as God Incarnate.  Two thousand years later their struggle is ours.

Acts.  When I was summarising chapter 6 I left out the last verse, verse 15.  It's a great verse; have a look for yourself.  See what I mean?  Stephen has been arraigned before the Sanhedrin, the same dodgy council that purported to try Jesus.  The prosecution witnesses have all made their wild accusations against him, and when they had finished, everybody on the Council looked at Stephen, the accused.  What did they see?  A shifty-looking character?  A face red with indignant rage or white with blood-curdling fear?  No; "they saw that his face was like the face of an angel".  Then he was invited to respond to the accusations, and he "made the same mistake" Jesus had made in his infamous sermon in his hometown – he reminded them of their history.  No country likes to be reminded of its history – all of us prefer our sanitised myths.  The members of the Sanhedrin were in no mood for self-examination and repentance – and were even less so inclined after Stephen's somewhat injudicious finale.  He might have looked like an angel, but he probably didn't sound like one.

Taking It Personally.

·        Do the six-persons test.  Where does Stephen rank?

·        What do you make of his behaviour as he was being stoned?  Is it credible?  How would you defend its credibility against a sceptic?  Does it strengthen your own faith?

·        Does history belong in the past, or should we seek to know and understand the facts of our past, unpalatable as some of them may be? Why?

 

Peter.  I have already made passing reference to the image of Christ as a "living stone" – in fact, a cornerstone.  But to me the real interest in this passage is two-fold: first his emphasis on spiritual matters; and secondly on his images of the community of faith (the church).  If you have been in the church for a few years you will be fortunate indeed if you have managed to avoid those irritating exercises (usually inflicted upon us when we are having a "parish consultation" to consider what we would like in a new vicar) when we are asked to come up with an image of the church.  What sort of tree/ship might best represent our little faith community?  In that situation, have you ever been tempted to leap up and scream, "We are not a blankety-blank tree or a blankety-blank ship – we are "a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, - in short, we are God's own people in order that we might proclaim the mighty acts of him who called us out of darkness into his marvellous light!"?  No, neither of I, but it's a good job I have retired, so I need never face that temptation in the future.  Of course, if you are ever in that situation in the future...

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Does the image of Christ as a living stone or cornerstone do anything for you?  Next time you are in your local church take time to gaze at the architecture.  Does any particular part of it suggest an image of Christ?

·        Ponder verse 1.  How's the ridding going?

·        Ponder verse 2.  Do you long for pure, spiritual milk?  Are you growing spiritually?

·        Read slowly through verse 9.  Do you recognise you and your faith community in this verse?

 

John.  Well, if we found last week's utopian vision from Acts a little challenging, this time the challenge is so much harder to avoid because it comes in this passage from John.  The passage starts off well enough: the first three verses can always be wheeled out for the most secular of funerals without causing too much fuss: their tone is definitely comforting and reassuring, even if (or perhaps because) their meaning is not entirely obvious.  But then Jesus baits them and Thomas takes the bait.  Undermining all our well-meaning interfaith dialogue comes verse 6(b): "No one comes to the Father except through me."  Wriggle as we might, that is, in the words of one of my mentors, both exclusive and conclusive – or plain wrong!"  It gets worse.  Jesus sets them up again, and this time Philip is hooked.  He has failed to recognise that Jesus is the Father, and vice versa.  What?  Surely that's not a reasonable summary of verses 9-11?  Well, we have a choice: we can believe it because he says it is so, or we can believe it on the evidence of the "works" (read, miracles) that Jesus performed.  But wait – there's more.  And verses 12-14 tell us what that more is.

 

What can we do with this passage?  Well, here are some thoughts that might be helpful.

 

·        It is widely believed among scholars that the community of faith from which this gospel emerged was deeply divided by various controversies, and had lost members as a result.  This can be seen, for instance, in chapter 6:66, which seems to refer to a split over the Eucharist, and in the Epistles of John.  We might therefore expect the author to be determinedly exclusivist – you are either in or out.

·        It is also widely believed that this is a very late gospel, written somewhere between 90 and 110 A.D, perhaps by a very old, wise man who had spent decades reflecting on the Jesus stories.  Perhaps he was struck by the inability of the disciples to recognise Jesus after the resurrection, and realised that it was a continuation of their inability to "recognise" him while he was still with them.  Related to this was their astonishment: had he not told them at least three times that he would suffer death and then on the third day be raised from the dead?  And yet, on those occasions Jesus had talked about these things happening to "the Son of Man".  Could it be that their real difficulty had arisen from their failure to recognise that Jesus himself was "the Son of Man"? 

·        Another approach might be to focus on the fact that Jesus is using the term "Father" rather than "God".  "Father" denotes a particular relationship, that which Jesus himself had with God and into which his followers are admitted through him.  It does not rule out the possibility that others may have a different relationship with God.

·        A further option sometimes suggested is the so-called anonymous Christ; that is, that whenever anyone comes to faith in God it is done through Christ even though the person concerned has never heard of Christ, or has heard of him but does not believe in him.

·        Personally I prefer to hang my hat on a very generous interpretation of John 21:22.  If we ask, "Lord, what of Moslems or Hindus or atheists?" we are likely to receive the reply, "what is that to you?  Follow me."

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• Are you uncomfortable about the "exclusive tone" of this passage, or doesn't it worry you?  Do any of the points suggested above help or not?
• Consider Thomas's contribution here, and compare it with his famous "doubts" after the resurrection.  What does John want us to take from the whole "Thomas" thing?
• Some scholars believe that this passage owes much to St Paul's teaching, particularly in his Letter to the Colossians.  Does that get you anywhere?
• Are you (as I am) more troubled by verses 12-14?  Do they ring true to your own experience?

 

Fourth Sunday in Easter

May 11                        NOTES FOR REFLECTION                         Fourth Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 2:42-47; 1 Peter 2:19-25; John 10:1-10

Theme:  Yes, well, good luck with choosing a theme this week!  I've had to reject a few ideas because they all fell somewhere on the spectrum between rudeness and blasphemy.  Having complained last week that the Easter Season is passing too quickly, one look at this week's readings made me wonder if it's already over.  However, reflection is a wonderful thing, and after a while some sort of link with the resurrection stories began to emerge.  If Thomas' absence might be thought of as an illustration of the breakdown in fellowship caused by the death of Christ, could we not see in the resurrection stories as a whole the restoration of fellowship flowing from Christ's resurrection?  So my pick for this week's theme is "The Shared Life".

Introduction.  We start with one of the most challenging little passages in the New Testament.  Go back a few verses and recall that in response to Peter's "Pentecost Sermon" "about three thousand persons were added" to the 120 or so believers at the start of the day.  And now we are given a summary of how those 3,120 spent their time and resources, which led to daily increases in their number!  Feeling challenged yet?  Perhaps the second reading will make you feel better?  Suffering for your faith is good for you; and we're not talking mickey-taking, scorn, or even downright hostility here.  We're talking physical violence all the way up to martyrdom.  And there's not a lot on offer in the gospel reading by way of soothing balm, is there?  To be blunt, I'm not sure what there is in our gospel passage today.  When I got to verse 6 I found myself muttering "I'm not surprised."  We have to wait until the very last sentence of this week's passage to find anything that sounds like the Good News we are called to proclaim.

Background.  Still struggling to keep up with the pace of the Easter season, I found myself this week going back to the question the Risen Christ first asked the disciples on the road to Emmaus: "What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?"  At one level, of course, that's a pretty obvious question, an opener to get the whole encounter under way.  But Jesus so often asked apparently simple questions that turned out on reflection to be far more profound, and I suspect that this one may belong to that genre.  If the journey to Emmaus is, as is so often claimed, a model of the faith journey, then perhaps all us on that journey need to address that question from time to time.  What are we discussing with one another as we continue the journey?  When we gather for a cuppa after the service – when we gather in our Vestry meetings or AGMs – whenever we are with our fellow believers - what are we discussing?  Our faith?  The hope we have in Jesus Christ?  How best to share that hope with others?

And so to this week.  What is the link between the readings we have before us now and those we have worked through over the last three weeks?  Starting with the gospel passage, in what way is that a particularly appropriate reading for the Easter Season?  Well, I began with John 21 in mind (particularly as I had rather thought we might have something from that chapter somewhere in the Easter Season).  That's very definitely a "resurrection appearance" chapter, of course, with at least two of the familiar elements in it.  First we see the problem of recognition, and then we have another example of the Eucharistic motif we had last week.  But I'm thinking particularly of verses 15 to 19, with its unmistakeably pastoral language.  The threefold "re-instatement liturgy" with Peter is almost like a new and converse version of the Kyries elieson – "Feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep."  And taking the passage as a whole, the fact that Peter does indeed love Christ is the basis for his vocation to shepherd the flock.

But what does it mean to "shepherd the flock"?  For "John" anyway, the answer to that question is to be found in chapter 10, hence the link to this week's gospel passage.  But there is a fundamental problem here.  In chapter 10 Jesus is addressing the hostile Pharisees, not his disciples; and in the course of his argument with them he changes his imagery sharply.  Although not very explicit, in verses 1-5 he appears to place himself in the role of the shepherd, and refers to someone else as the gatekeeper who opens the gate for him.  But when he meets with blank faces all round (verse 6) he tries another tack, this time describing himself as the gate; before returning much more explicitly in verse 11 to his self-identification with the good shepherd.  Once we get to that verse, perhaps, we feel more comforted, more at home.  I have seen a few stained glass windows depicting Christ the Good Shepherd; I can't recall ever seeing one depicting Christ the Gate!

Yet I do think these first few verses have something important to say if we will take the time to listen, and "listen" is the right word to use here, because of central importance is once again the theme of recognition.  The sheep need to be able to recognise the shepherd, and they do so by recognising his voice.  Similarly we need to be able to discern his voice among all the other voices with which we are bombarded today and which threaten to lead us astray.

And now to my chosen theme of "The Shared Life", about which I will have more to say when I get to our first reading.  But as a general introductory comment, I think we can discern a pattern in the resurrection stories of the slow rebuilding of fellowship.  Even though the stories tend to start with individuals, Mary at the tomb being the classic example, what follows is a sharing of the good news, and even (often) some sort of fellowship meal.   Thomas is brought back to the fellowship; Peter, too, and when he shows an unhealthy interest in the fate awaiting the other disciple he is immediately corrected.   There is to be no jealousy or rivalry in the restored fellowship.  This week's passage, perhaps, is intended to underline that a shepherd is there for the entire flock, and the well-being of each sheep is only ensured if the whole flock sticks together and follows the one shepherd.  The flock that grazes (eats) together, stays together.  Which leads us rather nicely to our first reading.

 

Acts.  Could this really be historically true?  Personally I find it harder to believe than the resurrection stories!  Maybe it was true just for a very short period of time; the beginning of chapter 6 sounds much more like human nature in action to me.  The more interesting question might be, would we like it to be true?  Could we live out our faith in a community of like-minded people following an agenda such as the one outlined here?  And if the honest answer to that question is no – and if the number of intentional faith communities that have arisen, flourished briefly and then collapsed in acrimony over the years is anything to go by, no is the honest answer – what does this reading have to say to us this week?  Should we blush with embarrassment, avert our glance and hurry on to the next reading?   Perhaps the middle course is to focus on the principle of cooperation, which after all is really fellowship in action.  Every time I hear one of our politicians insisting that we must build a more competitive society I want to scream: personally I want us to build a more co-operative society.  One where we believe in feeding the sheep because they are hungry, not because the market demand for "sheep fodder" ensures high profits for us.  In a week when our news media were full of awful images of addicts focused on their need for legal highs (the ultimate image of the death of any form of fellowship is surely the addict focused exclusively on himself/herself)), the one bright spot I found was an article in the ODT on the Food Share organisation, founded and managed by Dunedin lawyer, Deborah Manning.  Begun just 18 months ago, "she and her team of mostly volunteers collect about two tonnes of good, edible food a week [from supermarkets and other retail outlets] for redistribution back into the community".  I have no idea whether Ms Manning or her team are motivated by Christian belief; but I do know that what they are doing is a wonderful example of our Lord's teaching put into practice.

Taking It Personally.

• Read slowly through these verses.  Which verse do you find the most personally challenging?
• Have you ever sold something in order to donate the proceeds to a charity?  As a Christian, do you prefer to give to a Christian rather than a non-Christian charity?
• Does your local faith community collect food for distribution through a food bank or similar outlet?  If not, consider suggesting it to your Vestry.  If so, do you contribute regularly?
• Focus on verse 46.  Do you eat your food with a glad and generous heart, pausing to remember those who do not have enough to eat?

 

Peter.  Things get no less challenging when we come to this reading.  To accept suffering is counter-cultural in our community today.  If we are unwell, we must throw everything act it, take something to take away the symptoms, and in the worst case scenario bravely fight it to the bitter end.  If we are injured, someone must be held accountable, and justice (code-name retaliation/vengeance) must be pursued at no matter what cost.  And if we are accused of something...  So when we are told of Christ that "When he was abused, he did not return abuse; when he suffered, he did not threaten", what are we to do when we are also told that he did all this "leaving [us] an example, so that [we] should follow in his footsteps"?  And in case we have already forgotten the teaching of the last few weeks, the passage ends with two very clear and important verses.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• How accepting of pain and suffering are you?
• When you feel unjustly accused of something, how do you react?
• Do you agree there is a difference between "being a doormat" and choosing not to react in kind?
• We are now about half-way through the Easter Season.  Take some time to reflect on verses 24-25, lest you forget.

 

John.  As I have already noted, it is important to remember that this teaching is primarily aimed at the Pharisees, and purports to be a continuation of the debate with them that Jesus was having in the context of the healing of the man born blind.  But as seamless transitions go, this is not one of the author's finest examples; and it is not made any clearer with the rather muddled use of different images.  It seems that the first few verses have in mind a sort of sheep-motel, where sheep of different flocks (owned by different people) are penned together overnight, with a keeper at the gate.  When morning comes, an owner calls and his sheep respond to his voice, thereby satisfying the gatekeeper that the claimant is in fact entitled to those sheep.  (Rustlers and thieves have to try their luck at climbing over the fence and grabbing a sheep or two the hard way.)  So Jesus is the shepherd who calls his sheep out of the pen, leaving behind those who do not belong to him, and therefore do not recognise his voice (that is, the Pharisees).  But then, when that failed to get through to them, Jesus claimed to be the gate (the means of access) through which those who enter will be saved, and may then go out to find pasture.  With great respect, I'm not sure this works any better than the first part.  And the reference in verse 8 to "all who came before me" being "thieves and bandits" is surely problematic.  Presumable that is not intended to include the prophets up to and including John the Baptist; but to whom does it refer?  False Messiahs, perhaps, or false teachers of the law, scribes and Pharisees?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

• If you understand this passage better than I do, work with your own understanding.
• I can only suggest you focus on verse 10.  In what way(s) do you feel that your life is "abundant" because Christ has come to you?  Give thanks.

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.