The Second Coming of Jesus

 Text : Revelation 3.

I shall take as my text for this evening a phrase that is repeated twice in our New Testament reading:  “Listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches”.  This phrase comes from the book of Revelation.  In its early chapters a series of letters are written by the author, John of Patmos, to seven churches in Asia.  These letters offer both encouragement and warning to the newly fledged churches. 

We don’t really know who John was.  Perhaps he was John the Apostle – who had actually spent time with Jesus, of course.  But other scholars are less sure.  What is sure is that he felt that the churches were in a crucial period of their life.  They had been established in the decades following Jesus’ death and resurrection, and they had initially been promised that Jesus was going to return very soon.  But, by the last decade of the first century, when the Book of Revelation was written – many were beginning to doubt the prophecy of the Second Coming – and some of the churches were beginning to fray at the edges.  Whoever John was, he clearly wanted to re-ignite their faith in the second coming of Jesus – and he wanted them to be as ready as possible for that great event. 

To all the seven churches, John writes that they must ‘listen to what the Spirit is saying to the churches’.  Listening to the Spirit is a difficult task – isn’t it?  There is always the great danger of thinking that we’ve heard God’s voice, speaking to us, or pushing us in a particular direction.  But then, on reflection, we often find that what we’re really hearing is our own voice, or our own desires, coming to the surface.

I tend to think that is what happened with much of the talk of an imminent second coming of Jesus.  To those who had lived with him during his time on earth, his loss must have been devastating.  But, they developed a belief that Jesus had not been wiped out by death.  In fact, they asserted, he had risen from the dead.  And not only had he conquered death, but he would return with power and glory to rule over the whole world.

The trouble thinking of Jesus as a ruler of the Earth, a kind of Earth King, is that it runs contrary to much of what Jesus himself said and taught.  His approach was always to invite and cajole people into his Kingdom – a Kingdom which he stated (to Pontius Pilate) was specifically not of this world.  His Kingdom was a way of life, entered into freely and voluntarily, in which love and self-sacrifice were the law. The idea that Jesus would return to impose a mighty powerful Kingdom, sweeping aside his enemies in the process, really doesn’t sit well with the kind of invitational mode in which Jesus operated.  In fact, it owes much more to the old Jewish notions of a Messiah – something that the Jews and the Christian-Jews longed for as they suffered under the violent heal of Rome.  We should therefore not be surprised that prophets and preachers of the day would keep on encouraging their followers to ‘hold on’, and to promise them that soon, Jesus would come and batter the Romans into submission.

Two thousand years later, we might well ask what has happened to the Second Coming.  And we should certainly wonder what the Spirit is saying to the churches on this topic today.  It doesn’t take a lot of searching on the internet to find that the idea of a Second Coming, and indeed the End of All Things, still figures highly in the minds of some rather imaginative individuals.  A couple of weeks ago, an American Christian organised the importation to Israel of some pure red heifers, in the belief that the end of the world is coming, and that the Temple in Jerusalem will soon be rebuilt.  On that day, one of the liturgical actions which will be required (by the ancient Jewish laws) is the sacrifice of a pure red heifer, with not a single hair of another colour. 

The same people (both some Jews and some very evangelical Christians) are, it seems, positively salivating over the present conflicts in the Middle East – especially between Israel and Palestine, and with Iran.  They detect within these conflicts the promise of Armageddon, and the end of the world.  Any of them would, of course, tell you that they are not looking forward to the misery of Armageddon.  They don’t want to be the cause of such misery. But they believe that Armageddon must come before Jesus will return.  So, they are quite happy to sell weapons to the warring factions in the Middle East. They are equally happy to lobby and fundraise for the rebuilding of the Temple (which would mean destroying the Muslim holy shrine of the Dome of the Rock). All because, as they say, ‘the Bible predicts it’. 

But is this what the Spirit is really saying to the churches?  I’m not so sure.  Maybe I’m just projecting my own thoughts, my own logic and my own desires, and making God in my own image.  But I don’t think so.  The language of conquering, of world domination, of deliberate war-making to bring about the end of the world seems as far from the teaching of Jesus of Nazareth as I think we can get.  In his sermon on the mount, for example, did he say ‘blessed are the war-makers’?  (It was peace-makers that he would bless).  In his parables, did he compare the coming of the Kingdom to the onslaught of an invading army?  Or did he talk instead about the Kingdom as something like salt that flavours food, and light which shines in darkness. The kingdom is precious treasure, or a lost coin – something to be searched for diligently, and personally.  The Kingdom is like the Father of a prodigal child, who finds himself being offered forgiveness and restored life. 

So what is the Spirit saying to the churches, especially about the Second Coming of Christ?  I think the Spirit is saying that Christ comes again every time that neighbour reaches out to neighbour. Every time that a homeless person finds shelter, or a hungry family is fed by a foodbank, Christ comes again.  Every time that someone who has been wronged finds the strength to forgive their aggressor (Father forgive them, for they know not what they do), Christ comes again.  Every time peace is established, in the face of war, Christ comes again.

I therefore believe in the Second Coming of Christ – but not as a mighty warrior upon the clouds, coming to bash heads together and set up a new earthly throne on which he will reign by diktat and compulsion for eternity.  The Kingdom of heaven will not be established by a sword.  Rather, Jesus’ second coming is a gradual process – one that takes place every time we invite him to set up his throne on the seat of our hearts.  It takes place every time that we sincerely acknowledge him as Lord of our lives, and then set out to live his Kingdom laws of love and sacrifice.

Will the REAL St George please stand up?

                 Tuesday, the 23rd of April, was of course St George’s Day.  Given the patriotic sentiments which are naturally abroad in the nation at the present time, I thought it would be interesting to explore this theme.  Let’s start by asking what we know about St George himself.  The answer is ‘precious little’!  In fact, in the year 494, Pope Gelasius I stated that George was among those saints (and I quote) “whose names are justly reverenced among men, but whose actions are known only to God”.

Further research tells me that for every story or legend about St George, there are two or three others which tell a different story.  But here’s a reasonable summary of what we may know about him:

George was probably a Syrian, and a Roman soldier living in Palestine at the beginning of the fourth century. He was martyred at the town of Lod, south-east of Tel Aviv in about the year 304.  This was the time of the persecutions of Diocletian (the same persecutions which ended the life of St Faith of Aquitaine).  George became known throughout the East as ‘The Great Martyr’. There were churches in England dedicated to him before the Norman conquest, from as far back as 704 in Dorset, for example.

The story of his slaying the dragon may be due to his being mistaken in religious paintings (icons) for the Archangel Michael, who was usually depicted wearing armour, like St George, and who was often depicted with the great dragon, representing Satan, at his feet.  In fact – you can see the very same image in our West window.

Alternatively, there is a legend about Perseus slaying a sea monster; a myth also associated with Lod, with which George become conflated.

George is, of course, not only England’s Patron Saint.  He is also the Patron of Ethiopia – a fact of which I love to remind white supremacists, when they try to appropriate George to their warped cause.  He is also the Patron Saint of Portugal, and of the Mediterranean Islands of Malta and Gozo.  He is Patron Saint of the Orthodox Church, whose depictions of him in icons are legendary.  The famous flag of St George – the red cross on a white background – was first conceived by the city-state of Genoa, in Italy.

It is for me, an encouraging idea that England has chosen, as its Patron saint, such a multi-cultural figure as St George.  The other major countries of the British Isles are rather more parochial in their outlook.  Andrew was chosen for Scotland quite probably because Scotland was claimed to be the final resting place of that great Apostle.  Patrick was a Briton, but he did a fantastic job of converting the Irish to Christianity.  David was a Welshman, indeed a Bishop of Wales.  But England?  Well we used to have a Patron Saint who was a native of Britain – namely Edward the Confessor, the last King of Wessex, who died in 1066.  St Thomas of Canterbury – patron saint of our own Cathedral - was another prime candidate for a while.  But they were all replaced by George, the warrior saint, who was venerated around the world, and a truly international symbol.  It was, in fact, only during the reign of Edward VI, in 1552, that George ascended fully to the status of England’s only and official Patron Saint.

Another irony of St George is the extent to which he is venerated by Muslims.  George features quite large in ancient Islamic texts, and he is still the subject of many prayers among Muslim people.  There’s a lovely story of when William Dalrymple visited the Shrine of St George in Beit Jala, in the West Bank, in 1995.  He asked the priest at the shrine "Do you get many Muslims coming here?" The priest replied, "We get hundreds! Almost as many as the Christian pilgrims. Often, when I come in here, I find Muslims all over the floor, in the aisles, up and down!”.

So, let’s review what we know.  George was a Syrian, and Roman soldier, who died in Israel.  He is venerated by both Christians and Muslims, by the Orthodox Church, by an African nation, across the Middle East and by other major European powers.  So when people wonder why I proudly fly the Cross of St George from the tower of this church building, I tell them this:  to appropriate George as some kind of narrow English nationalist is a remarkably ignorant thing to do.  It’s a laughable example of an own-goal!  George represents one of the most multicultural saints that I can think of!  He is loved and venerated across the world, from Russian to Africa, all across Europe and the Middle East, and (thanks to the Portuguese) across much of South America too.  He is a symbol of universal brotherhood, and the battle against the dragons of our weaker human natures which seek to corral us into tribes, locked in hatred and mistrust against each other.

May we all have the courage to follow such an example as St George!  Amen.

Tenacious Mark: thinker, evangelist

 Mark 13: 5-13 and Ephesians 4: 7-16

Today we celebrate the feast of St Mark's Day. But who was he?  Mark has long been a favourite saint of mine – for two reasons: first because he was the patron saint of the first parish in which I was made an incumbent – St Mark’s North End.  But secondly, I rather enjoy his gospel – because at only 16 chapters long, it’s the shortest of all the gospels – easily read in a single sitting – and the one least cluttered with theological dogma and dubious myths!

John Marcus,  as he was known is first mentioned in Chapter 12 of the Acts of the Apostles, where he is identified as a travelling companion of St Paul.  Later, according to church tradition, he became a disciple of St Peter when Peter was in Rome.  It has always been believed that Mark was essentially Peter's biographer - and that his Gospel is a writing down of stories about Jesus that were told by Peter.

He was a rather controversial figure.  He was the centre of quite a debate between Paul and Barnabus, leading to Paul and Barnabus separating and going in different directions in the work of the Gospel.  Later, according to tradition, Mark made a real pain of himself in the city of Alexandria - where his constant preaching and insistence that the citizens of Alexandria should turn away from their Greek gods led to him being martyred.  According to one of a number of traditions, he was attached to a horse and dragged through the streets until dead - but not before he had founded what is today called the Coptic Orthodox Church.  St Mark's bones - his 'relics' are said to reside in St Mark's Church in Venice.

Mark's traditional emblem that of a winged Lion.  A Lion was chosen because his Gospel speaks most eloquently of all the gospels about the royal divinity of Christ...and the lion has always been seen as a royal figure.  It is also said that the Lion was chosen because Mark's Gospel uniquely begins with the story of John the Baptist, who, like a distant lion was described as the voice crying the in the wilderness.

So what are the qualities of Mark that emerge from the little we know for sure about him?  First of all, I'd say, Mark was obviously a thinker.  He thought deeply about Jesus, and about what it meant to be his follower.  It’s always dangerous for people to use their God given minds to try to understand the ways of God.  The history of the church, and all its splits, is essentially a history of ideas.  People who use their minds will often find themselves at odds with people who prefer to approach God at a more instinctive level - or who are willing to simply accept what they've been taught, without thinking about it.

Secondly, Mark was obviously an evangelist.  The word 'evangelist' stems from a Greek word meaning 'good news'.  Mark passionately told people what God had accomplished through Jesus.  He was passionate enough to write a whole book about it - his Gospel.  He was passionate enough to spend years of his life travelling around the known world to tell people about it.  He was so passionate about it, that he ended up being silenced by the people of Alexandria who killed him - but he also succeeded in founding a church which still exists in very much the form that he founded it.

Again, this is a message for us.  Our Gospel reading this morning contained those warning words from Jesus, that "all men will hate you because of me" (Mark: 13:13). Telling people what they don't want to hear is never popular.  Taking a stand against the values of the world is always risky.  When we try to tell people that there’s another way, a better way of living, than by accumulating stuff, and promoting hatred, people don’t like it.  To such people the Gospel is a challenge - often a deeply unwelcome challenge.  The Gospel is good news to those who are being saved.  To others, its a nuisance and even a threat.

The last quality of St Mark which tends to shine through is his tenacity.  Here is a man who, once he had been convinced of the resurrection of Christ, dedicated his entire life to the service of Christ.  He kept on - travelling the length and breadth of his world - writing, teaching, preaching, goading, establishing the good news about Jesus wherever he went.

Mark's example encourages us to do the same.  Church, for us, is never about simply spending a couple of hours together on a Sunday or Thursday - and then forgetting all about God for the rest of the week.  The Church is the place where the people of God come together to celebrate what God is doing in our lives, to lift our eyes up from the day to day for a short while, to enjoy the fellowship of other people who have the same love for God.    But our primary task in coming together is to "become mature, attaining to the whole measure of Christ", as Paul says in our first reading for today.  Then, Paul goes on, "we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.  Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will in all things grow up into him who is the head, that is Christ."   (Eph 4: 13-15)

The Church is the place from which we go out with the same tenacity as John Marcus.  To appropriate Winston Churchill - whose metaphor can so easily be turned to the task of the Gospel..."we will never surrender".   We will never surrender to the mediocrity of a consumer society.  We will never surrender to the lies of unrestrained capitalism, or the false promises of communism.  We will never stop declaring that the Kingdom of God is the only way of living which offers any real hope to humanity.  Like roaring lions in the desert wilderness, we will keep on speaking of the value of love, forgiveness, generosity and charity.  And at this Easter time, we will keep on telling the story of the Lord who died for us, but who was not cancelled by death – the Lord who lives again in us and through us, calling all humanity to himself.

For, as Mark would undoubtedly have declared:  Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Greatest Story Ever Told...

Luke 24 v 36-49

We human beings love stories, don’t we? It’s the first thing that we do to our children, when they are old enough to understand even a few words...we read them a story. As we grow older, our stories change - they become more elaborate, more detailed, more complex. Our ancestors told stories around campfires. In our time, we watch movies, or devour Jane Austin novels (well, Clare does, anyway).  

Psychologists tell us something that Holy Men have known for millennia: stories have the power to transform us. As we listen to stories, we ask ourselves questions: “what would it be like to be in that situation?” “How would I get out of that crisis?” “Would I like to become like the person in this story?”.

Like every Holy Man, Jesus also knew the power of story. That’s why he told so many parables. I wonder - have you ever considered the fact that - as far as we know - Jesus never took the trouble to write down a single word of instruction to his followers?  Jesus didn’t leave us a rule-book.  He didn’t write down a precise list of behaviours and instructions he wanted us to follow. Instead he gave us stories. Stories of a wayward son who is greeted with love and acceptance by a father whose love has been abused. Stories of a foreigner who acts as a neighbour. Stories of what happens when we let earthly possessions become more important than heavenly treasure.

But the bible doesn’t just contain stories. It is itself a story - in fact someone once called it ‘the Greatest Story Ever Told’. This story weaves history with myth, poetry with fact; and at each turn of the page we are invited, by the Greatest Story-teller, to put ourselves in the place of each character. “Does this story reflect my circumstances? What can I learn from how the character resolved this particular situation?”

Today’s Gospel reading is no exception. Let’s see if we can’t follow that ancient practice of putting ourselves into the story.  Let’s see if we can perhaps make some connections between the reading, and our own circumstances...

The first thing I want to observe is that, throughout this story, the Disciples are at a pivotal point in their own lives, and in the history of the church. On the one hand, Jesus death is behind them...he has visibly triumphed over the grave. But on the other hand, the hard work of establishing the church is still ahead of them.

I think we can say that there are some parallels between the disciples’ situation and ours. Certainly there have been some difficult days in our fairly recent past. And certainly, there is a great deal of work still to be done before the Kingdom is fully established in Havant.  Faith in the UK is on the wane, and yet people need God more than ever before.  We faithful few who gather on a Sunday are a tiny minority of our community – just as the disciples were a tiny minority of theirs.  We too, then, are at a pivotal point in our history...just like the disciples.

The next thing I noticed, when I looked more closely at this story was that when Jesus appeared to his disciples, his behaviour towards them was pretty surprising.  These were the disciples who had abandoned him, denied him, and run away and hidden while he was being crucified.  You would have thought that the first thing he would have said to them would be something like, “where were you then?”.  You might have expected Jesus to insist that everyone in that room should have got down on one knee and begged for forgiveness. But no. Jesus reaction to seeing those who had hurt him in the past was a very simple one. “Peace be with you”.

Peace be with you. Four simple words...but four words which convey a Universe of meaning. Four words which offer forgiveness, even without apology. Four words which acknowledge that all human beings get things wrong sometimes. Four words which show more than any other how God deals with those who have hurt him, those who have wronged him, denied him, deserted him...he offers them peace.  That’s the kind of God we serve.

The next thing I notice, is that the disciples were given a message to preach. Verse 47: “...in his name the message about repentance and the forgiveness of sins must be preached to all nations...” Having revealed himself to them, having clearly forgiven them, Jesus sent them out into the world to preach his message of the topsy turvey kingdom. The disciples were charged with a story to tell - a story which we have inherited and which we are commanded to tell as well. It’s a story about the Lord of the Universe who is born in a stable. It’s a story about the King of the Ages, who rides on a donkey. It’s a story about a God who dies, so that his creation can have life. It’s a topsy turvey story. It’s a story about how the followers of this God, who have received his forgiveness, go on to offer that forgiveness to other people.

Finally - the last thing I notice about this story - is that the Disciples are promised the Spirit of God. Verse 49: “I myself will send upon you what my Father has promised. But you must wait in the city until the power from above comes on you.” Of course, we know that this promise was fulfilled. We know the story of the day of Pentecost. But the disciples didn’t know. All they could do was trust...trust that the story would come true... Trust that the story-teller was reliable.

And that, finally, is what we must do to.  We must trust in the story. As we go forward into the future, as a parish, as families, as individuals, we need to trust that the story we are living will have a happy ending.  The Bible, the “Greatest Story Ever Told” concludes with a vision of a new heaven and a new earth.  It’s story with a happy ending that we are, already in many ways living out. The promise of this story is that if we will hold on to the story-teller, if we will live as the story-teller invites us to live,  if we will draw from the same source as the story-teller - then there is a promise of life everlasting, life to the full, life in all its fullness, for ever.  That’s a story worth telling. Isn’t it?

Believe? Even the Devil believes!

Text: John 3.31 –end

John the baptiser speaks about Jesus, and about the need to have faith in him

"The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is of the earth belongs to the earth and speaks about earthly things. The one who comes from heaven is above all.  He testifies to what he has seen and heard, yet no one accepts his testimony.   Whoever has accepted his testimony has certified this, that God is true.   He whom God has sent speaks the words of God, for he gives the Spirit without measure.  The Father loves the Son and has placed all things in his hands.  Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever disobeys the Son will not see life, but must endure God’s wrath."

The words we’ve just heard come from John the Baptiser.  Some of his disciples have noticed that Jesus has started his ministry, and has been baptising followers.  They wonder how John feels about Jesus effectively muscling-in on his ministry.

John is not concerned – at all.  He recognises Jesus for who he is.  John knows that his role was only ever to pave the way for Jesus.  He recognises that Jesus was sent by God – and he draws a comparision between himself and Jesus.  He says, “The one who comes from above is above all; the one who is of the earth belongs to the earth and speaks about earthly things.”  Of course, John means that he is the one who comes from earth (and only speaks about earthly things).  Jesus, on the other hand, comes from heaven.    

Then, after speaking about how Jesus speaks the words of God, mediated by the Spirit, John utters these memorable words: “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever disobeys the Son will not see life, but must endure God’s wrath.”  These words echo the phrase that Jesus himself uses, a few verses earlier, in that famous line which is included among the comfortable words of this communion service: “God so loved the world that he gave his only son, so that everyone who believes in him shall have everlasting life”.

So, for both Jesus and John, the issue of belief is uttermost.  If you have belief in Jesus, you will have everlasting life. That’s the promise. But what does it mean, to have belief?

If I believe that Jesus is the Son of God the same way that I believe that King Charles is our nation’s monarch, have I fulfilled the conditions needed to be saved?  Is it enough to simply accept, intellectually, that Jesus is the son of God? Or is there more to belief than that?

We know that just accepting the proposition that Jesus is God’s son is, in fact, not enough - because even the devil believes that.  When Jesus began to confront the demonic powers of the devil, they cried out loud, "We know who you are. You are the holy one of God. You are the Son of God."   You see, the devil of the Bible is absolutely orthodox in his belief in who Jesus was.  

So, what more is required of us, if we aim to receive the gift of eternal life? The image of the devil stands for complete self-obsession.  The devil is that part of us which can see the inherent good in Jesus, but which rejects what Jesus says, in favour of our own choices.  The image of the devil is the one who places his own worth, his own opinions, his own destiny, above and instead of the worth that God offers us as a son or daughter.  The devil rejects the teachings of Christ, he rejects The Narrow Way of trust in Christ.  The devil does not view God as precious and valuable. He hates Christ and Christ is a threat to everything he stands for.

Instead, we find our Narrow Way to eternal life by delighting in our belief that Jesus is the Son of God.  We embrace it, and we make Christ the treasure and the Lord of our life, by surrendering completely to him. Unlike the metaphorical devil, we find that we just want to know Jesus, be with him, enjoy him, follow him, and celebrate him. That transition—that change of heart, so that we are now looking away from our demonic self-centredness, towards Christ and embracing all that God is for us in him—that is what faith is. That is what belief is. That is what saves.

For the apostles, as we saw in our lesson from the 5^th chapter of Acts (Acts 5.27–33), that meant being prepared to stand trial for Jesus.  It meant imprisonment and persecution for standing up against the violent powers of their day.  It meant being utterly committed to the life-giving Narrow Way of Christ, regardless of the cost.  Oh that we could find such belief, such trust, such devotion to the way of Christ! Amen.

Easter Thursday

Easter Thursday 2024 - (Slightly reworked from Easter Sunday)

Easter means many different things to many different people.  A sign of new life.  The defeat of darkness.  I like to help our school visitors to remember that the word Easter contains the word East.  We look to the East, to the rising Sun, to remember the Son who rises.   Or perhaps the word Easter is based on the pagan goddess Eostre (that’s what the 7th century historian Bede believed – although later scholars have debunked him).   It is therefore, perhaps, a celebration of the return of the sun, with all the fecundity of new life, celebrated through bunny rabbits and eggs.  What do you believe, I wonder?

It turns out that what we believe is a rather subjective thing.  And when beliefs clash, things can get pretty dicey, as we’ve seen horrifically in Gaza of late. What we believe about the death and resurrection of Jesus matters.  But in our incredible shrinking world, we are bombarded with competing truth claims. 

There are of course a whole range of views about the actual truth of the Resurrection.  Frankly, we cannot tackle the sceptics’ questions with anything other than the answer of faith.  We were not there, and all we have is the rather variable accounts of those who wrote about these events some decades later.  What matters most, to all followers of The Way, is NOT whether something HAPPENED, but that it HAPPENS, still, today.  In others words, all of the stories of Scripture have the power to speak into our lives, right here and right now.  There is truth within every story, whether or not it can be scientifically or historically proved.  The deep truth of each story happens to us, today, if we will open ourselves to it.

There is one historical fact on which we can rely – and that’s that the ancients who wrote our Scriptures were much less concerned about literal, historical truth than we tend to be.  They were much more concerned with the power of story – its inner power, its deeper truth, its potential to shape and direct our lives.  So when the Gospel writers tell us of the death of Jesus, they are pointing to a deeper truth…which is that God died.  This is a way of saying there is no situation which God cannot inhabit and embrace.  Even in death, God holds us, walks with us, along our human road.

But the Gospel writers are also warning us – that there are consequences to excluding Jesus from any community’s life.  By ignoring him, and his wisdom, we effectively shove Jesus out of our City, out of our society, out of our politics.  We abandon him to die on a lonely hill, outside the city.

The resurrection story, on the other hand, points us to the rejuvenating potential of all life, in and through God.  Even if we push him outside our City, God cannot be kept out.

St Paul used the example of a seed, pointing out that just as Jesus died and then rose, so a seed has to die in the soil before it is transformed into a mighty tree.  In doing so, Paul points us to an even deeper reality than the miracle of raising Jesus from the dead. 

Paul teaches us a truth that science has since proved to us: the fundamental truth that all matter in God’s universe is constantly in flux, constantly being reshaped and reformed and given new life.  Dust from the Big Bang coalesces into stars, from which new elements are then blasted out into space.  Those elements get formed into planets, and new suns, from which we and all life finally emerge.  

The even deeper truth of the Resurrection is that as the divine presence behind all the universe, God also transcends creation.  God calls us beyond creation, into a realm as yet undiscovered by science; the realm we call the kingdom of heaven.  The resurrection then, as the infamous David Jenkins, Bishop of Durham once said, is more than a ‘conjuring trick with bones’.  It points us to a deeper and more profound reality – the reality that the life God gives to the Universe never stops being created and recreated anew.  Out of all deaths comes new life.  Life goes on, constantly being reshaped and reborn, and even drawn into new realities, new realms, whatever Death tries to do.  And so with St Paul, we can indeed stick out tongues out at death, and cry ‘Where, O Death, is thy sting?  Where, O grave is thy victory?’. 

But what does this mean, for you, and for me?  It surely means that there is no situation in life, no state of mind, no great human conflict, no failure, no sin, no level of depression, no Gazan famine, no Russian invasion, no family-member’s death, which cannot be transformed by the power of the Kingdom of God.  The great myth and the mystery of God is alive, among us, constantly calling us to resurrection – to the reforming, and the transforming, of human-made misery into new life and new possibility.  

Can we imagine a world in which guns are melted down to make tractors?  Can we imagine a world in which we spend more on healthcare and research than on weapons? Can we imagine a world in which there are no poor among us?  Can we imagine a world in which the mighty and the corrupt are voted out of their seats, and the meek and humble take their place?  For those are precisely what the Bible imagines, when it uses the metaphor of the Kingdom of God.

This then is the deeper truth of the Resurrection – a truth that goes beyond the sceptical questions we might have about the fuzzy, competing biblical stories.  The resurrection shows us Creation, and re-creation, through God’s eternal eyes.  Indeed, the whole trajectory of Scripture is that all life, all creation, all re-creation and re-birth finds its culmination in the Divine energy at Creation’s heart, and in the person of Jesus Christ. 

For it is before him, as the closing chapters of the Bible declare, that one day every knee will bow.  Every tongue will confess that Jesus, the divine man, the God made human who finds his way back to eternity, and draws us with him into the as yet unseen realm of the Kingdom of heaven: HE is LORD, and rightly the source of our joy, when we declare….Alleluia...Christ is Risen!  He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Easter 2024

 Easter 2024

Easter means many different things to many different people.  A sign of new life.  The defeat of darkness.  I like to help our school visitors to remember that the word Easter contains the word East.  We look to the East, to the rising Sun, to remember the Son who rises.   Or perhaps the word Easter is based on the pagan goddess Eostre (that’s what the 7th century historian Bede believed – although later scholars have debunked him).   It is therefore, perhaps, a celebration of the return of the sun, with all the fecundity of new life, celebrated through bunny rabbits and eggs.  What do you believe, I wonder?

It turns out that what we believe is a rather subjective thing.  And when beliefs clash, things can get pretty dicey, as we’ve seen horrifically in Gaza of late. What we believe about the death and resurrection of Jesus matters.  But in our incredible shrinking world, we are bombarded with competing truth claims. 

On Good Friday, during the reading of the St John Passion, we heard how Pilate asked Jesus, philosophically, “what IS truth?”.  Even then, 2000 years ago, there were many different truth claims in the world.  How shall we peel away the layers of history, myth, belief and story, to arrive at a truth that matters; a truth we can live by?

There are of course a whole range of views about the actual truth of the Resurrection.  Frankly, we cannot tackle the sceptics’ questions with anything other than the answer of faith.  We were not there, and all we have is the rather variable accounts of those who wrote about these events some decades later.  I wonder if you’ve ever sat down and read the four gospel accounts of the Resurrection, back to back.  I challenge you to do so – and to note, as you do, the marked differences between each Gospel’s account.  Those differences alone are enough to make one a little sceptical about the historicity of the story.

What matters most, to all followers of The Way, is not whether or not something HAPPENED, but that it HAPPENS, still, today.  In others words, all of the stories of Scripture have the power to speak into our lives, right here and right now.  There is truth within every story, whether or not it can be scientifically or historically proved.

There is one historical fact on which we can rely – and that’s that the ancients who wrote our Scriptures were much less concerned about literal, historical truth than we tend to be.  They were much more concerned with the power of story – its inner power, its deeper truth, its potential to shape and direct our lives.  So when the Gospel writers tell us of the death of Jesus, they are pointing to a deeper truth…which is that God died.  This is a way of saying there is no situation which God cannot inhabit and embrace.  Even in death, God holds us, walks with us, along our human road.

The resurrection story, on the other hand, points us to the rejuvenating potential of all life, in and through God.  

St Paul used the example of a seed, pointing out that just as Jesus died and then rose, so a seed has to die in the soil before it is transformed into a mighty tree.  In doing so, Paul points us to an even deeper reality than the miracle of raising Jesus from the dead. 

Paul teaches us a truth that science has since proved to us: the fundamental truth that all matter in God’s universe is constantly in flux, constantly being reshaped and reformed and given new life.  Dust from the Big Bang coalesces into stars, from which new elements are then blasted out into space.  Those elements get formed into planets, and new suns, from which we and all life finally emerge.  Our own bodies, when we’ve finished with them, are absorbed back into the earth, and become nutrients for the creation of new life.  One day, science teaches us, our world will be consumed by our Sun, which will then explode into space, and our dust will be gathered by the forces of gravity into a new existence, from which new life can once more emerge.

The even deeper truth of the Resurrection is that as the divine presence behind all the universe, God also transcends creation.  God calls us beyond creation, into a realm as yet undiscovered by science; the realm we call the kingdom of heaven.  The resurrection then, as the infamous David Jenkins, Bishop of Durham once said, is more than a ‘conjuring trick with bones’.  It points us to a deeper and more profound reality – the reality that the life God gives to the Universe never stops being created and recreated anew.  Out of all deaths comes new life.  Life goes on, constantly being reshaped and reborn, and even drawn into new realities, new realms, whatever Death tries to do.  And so with St Paul, we can indeed stick out tongues out at death, and cry ‘Where, O Death, is thy sting?  Where, O grave is thy victory?’. 

But what does this mean, for you, and for me?  It surely means that there is no situation in life, no state of mind, no great human conflict, no failure, no sin, no level of depression, no Gazan famine, no Russian invasion, no family-member’s death, which cannot be transformed by the power of the Kingdom of God.  The great myth and the mystery of God is alive, among us, constantly calling us to resurrection – to the reforming, and the transforming, of human-made misery into new life and new possibility.  

Can we imagine a world in which guns are melted down to make tractors?  Can we imagine a world in which we spend more on healthcare and research than on weapons? Can we imagine a world in which there are no poor among us?  Can we imagine a world in which the mighty and the corrupt are voted out of their seats, and the meek and humble take their place?  For those are precisely what the Bible imagines, when it uses the metaphor of the Kingdom of God.

This then is the deeper truth of the Resurrection – a truth that goes beyond the sceptical questions we might have about the fuzzy, competing biblical stories.  The resurrection shows us Creation, and re-creation, through God’s eternal eyes.  Indeed, the whole trajectory of Scripture is that all life, all creation, all re-creation and re-birth finds its culmination in the Divine energy at Creation’s heart, and in the person of Jesus Christ. 

For it is before him, as the closing chapters of the Bible declare, that one day every knee will bow.  Every tongue will confess that Jesus, the divine man, the God made human who finds his way back to eternity, and draws us with him into the as yet unseen realm of the Kingdom of heaven: HE is LORD, and rightly the source of our joy, when we declare….Alleluia...Christ is Risen!  He is risen indeed, Alleluia!