Sunday, 28 April 2019

Second Sunday of Easter 2019


Lectionary reading: Acts 5:27-32

Let me begin by saying, happy Easter! I say that, in part, of course, because I was not with you on Easter Day; but, also, because today is the second Sunday of Easter. There are in total seven Sundays of Easter, and as the church gathers on these occasions, we will hear a selection of passages from the Acts of the Apostles, the sequel to the Gospel According to Luke. Why these particular passages? Because they invite us into the ‘so what?’ of the resurrection, discovering how Jesus’ disciples, led by the Holy Spirit, came to understand the significance of this incredible event.

There is a recurring pattern in the early chapters of Acts: Peter preaches in the temple, is arrested, imprisoned, brought to trial, gives his defence; is later re-arrested, imprisoned, escapes prison with angelic help, preaches in the temple, is brought to trial again, and gives his defence. And this is where we find him in our reading from Acts this morning. And the crux of his defence is this: that God has exalted Jesus as Leader and Saviour.

The word our Bibles translates as ‘Leader’ is the Greek word archÄ“gon. It is a word that means founder, or author; the first in a long procession, the captain who pioneers the way for others to follow. It is used in the Greek translation of the Old Testament—the translation Luke and the community he wrote for would have used—to speak of the heads of the families of the tribes of Israel; to refer to men held in high esteem, with this same word often translated into English as ‘princes’ of the people. They are the men who give a lead that others follow. When God sends Moses to lead his people out from slavery in Egypt, it is these princes he must first persuade, because the people will follow them. When there are gifts to be brought, as for the rebuilding of the fallen walls of Jerusalem, it is these princes who go first.

The irony would not have been lost on Luke’s audience that Peter has been brought to trial before the senate of the sons of Israel [NRSVA ‘the council and whole body of the elders of Israel’], who demand to know why Peter and the other apostles have not followed their lead when they had, at the previous trial, ordered the apostles not to speak or teach at all in the name of Jesus (Acts 4:18)? After all, they are the princes, and where they lead—with strict orders, no less—others should follow.

Peter, however, does not recognise their authority in this matter. Why not? Well, we need to remember that Acts is the continuation of Luke’s account of the gospel, the good news about Jesus. Towards the end of Part One, at the last supper, Luke records Jesus as saying to his disciples:

‘“You are those who have stood by me in my trials; and I confer on you, as my Father has conferred on me, a kingdom, so that you may eat and drink at my table in my kingdom, and you will sit on thrones judging the twelve tribes of Israel.’”
(Luke 22:28-30)

Moreover, we recall that in his account of the crucifixion, Luke records:

‘And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders [archontes: rulers, or princes] scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!” The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.”’
(Luke 23:35-38)

Though the leaders of the people refuse to acknowledge it, Jesus is the Prince, appointed by God; and he, in turn, has appointed Peter and the other apostles to be princes. But Jesus’ rule is made manifest on the cross. The nature of his lead, the lead he called Peter to follow, bringing others with him, is through trial and suffering.

Peter declares that God has exalted Jesus as Leader and Saviour. That is, Jesus is the one, raised up by God, who goes first leading a long procession of followers through trial and suffering; saving them from sin and death by delivering them beyond suffering to freedom and glory. First death, then resurrection. First suffering, then glory. As the one who has gone first, Jesus is able to give repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins ...

... and this ties-in with another theme of Peter’s early sermons. Peter, and his companions, see the Psalms as pointing to the kind of Leader and Saviour Jesus is. They cite psalms 16, and 110, and 2, psalms that speak of a leader set on the throne of David by God, through whom the nations that surround and threaten Jerusalem will be judged. Peter’s message is this: the resurrection of Jesus gives the people of Israel a second-chance to turn back to the God of their ancestors—to accept the gift of repentance—and so to experience forgiveness of sins, or, having their debts wiped clean by the prince seated at the right hand of God. Judgement over-ruled. Consequences, transmuted from death to life. The implication, of course, is that if the leaders of the people persist in fighting against God, those surrounding and threatening nations would overthrow Jerusalem.

The council were enraged, and wanted to kill the apostles, to silence them once and for all. But one of their number, the Pharisee Gamaliel, stood up and cautioned that they do nothing, in case they find themselves fighting against God; and, instead, simply wait and see what would unfold. Tragically, doing nothing was not enough. Repentance was what was necessary. Within the lifetime of many of them, the Romans besieged Jerusalem and destroyed the temple. And what survived The End Of The World as they knew it? The community that confessed Jesus as Leader and Saviour was well-placed to pass through suffering to glory. In time, after much more suffering, the emperor in Rome would bow the knee.

What, then, does his have to do with us, two-thousand years later? Everything, as it happens. As our sisters and brothers around the world celebrated Jesus’ rising from the dead last Sunday, churches in Sri Lanka were torn apart. When the dust settled, and the bodies had been counted, whole villages processed out to new mass graves. Unimaginable horror; and yet, this is the Way on which we walk, following Jesus, trusting that The End is not the end.

Here at the Minster, our brother Abbas is detained at an immigration Removal Centre, awaiting deportation. If you are Iranian, and you convert from a Muslim upbringing to Christianity, and refuse to recant, you face imprisonment and the real threat of the death penalty. Like Jesus. Like Peter and the other apostles—almost all of whom were eventually martyred for their faith, walking in procession behind Jesus, the Way made possible because he had pioneered it. It is not scaremongering but sober reality that some of our sisters and brothers in this international congregation may experience unjust trial and punishment, imprisonment, and even execution because of their baptism. And if so, that is normative Christianity. If we are comfortable, here in Sunderland, we are the aberration.

Peter’s message was to the elders of Israel. They did not listen, and died in debt before God. History has moved on. What ought our Easter message be? That Jesus is still Leader and Saviour, in order that he might give repentance not only to Israel but—as we shall see as we continue reading through Acts—to the Gentiles also, cancelling the debts we have incurred against God and our neighbour.

For now, we find ourselves in England, surrounded by other nations, some of which are hostile, including fragile peace agreements between uneasy allies. And we find ourselves in the Church of England, a community that is, in some ways, a shadow of its former days, once at the very heart of society but now on the margins, surrounded by other worldviews, some of which are hostile. Nations rise and fall. Local and even national churches are planted, grow old, and die. We live in precarious times, for the nation, for the church, indeed for the future of civilisation as we know it and the planet on which we live. We have amassed unpayable debts, to those we have wronged in the past, to future generations, to global ecosystems. Some elders advise caution, that we wait and see. Other voices advise us to rise up and overthrow our oppressors—whoever they might be.

And what of us? “God ... raised up Jesus [and] exalted him as Leader and Saviour that he might give repentance ... and forgiveness of sins. And we are witnesses to these things, and so is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.”

So, go, Church, and bear witness to these things. Jesus is Leader and Saviour: join us as we follow him on the Way of Suffering and, on its far side, Glory.

Sunday, 7 April 2019

Fifth Sunday of Lent 2019




Gospel: John 12:1-8

This is a transcript, written after the event, of a sensory sermon preached at St Nicholas’ church. It is too hard, today, to come by ethical, sustainable spikenard; so, I have used patchouli essential oil as a near-enough substitute.

It had become apparent to all that time was running out.

And so, Jesus embarked on a series of last suppers; the first of which with his dear friends Martha and Mary and Lazarus. Ironically, it was the raising of Lazarus that had sealed Jesus’ fate: he was now simply too dangerous to live. Rumours had circulated. Well-meaning neighbours offered hushed advice, that the family distance themselves from Jesus. Instead—and, of course, I speculate a little here—Mary went from door-to-door raising a collection; then to the market, where she bought an alabaster jar of perfume from an Egyptian merchant. A jar to open in Jesus’ tomb, to mask the stench of decomposition.

Now they were gathered. Martha, serving—just as she had done the first time that we met her, the first time they met Jesus. But Martha is no longer burdened by anxiety that all be perfect or else shame would fall on the family; no longer resentful of her sister. Martha has encountered Love, and responds now with love of her own.

Lazarus is at the table with Jesus, side-by-side. Can you imagine the conversation? If you knew that days from now you would be dead, and you were at a dinner party seated next to someone who had come back from the dead, what would you ask?

In the ancient world, at a formal meal, you did not sit on high-backed chairs as we would do; but reclined, lying on your side, elbow propped up on a low table, feet stretching out behind you. Mary assumes the role of a servant, approaches Jesus and washes his feet. As she does so, her tears mingle with the water. And then she stops; fetches the jar of perfume; pours it out.

Judas is horrified. He, too, knows that time is running out. He hopes that at these farewell dinners, the common purse will swell; that, when it comes to the end, he will be able to get away with the lot. He is from the south; the other disciples, from the north: their paths need never cross again.

Why does Mary change her mind? She had bought the perfume for the day of Jesus’ burial: so, why pour it out now, ahead of time? Did she panic? Or…had the penny dropped? As she listened-in on the conversation between Jesus and her brother, had she realised what Jesus had told the men three times now, without their comprehension? Had she realised that Jesus would be walking out of the tomb?

Was this act her secret way of letting Jesus know, ‘I know’? Or, at least, ‘I have an inkling’? ‘I have a hope!’