Day of Pentecost - Evensong

 Joel 2.21-end

Acts of the Apostles 2.14-21

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You could say that the Day of Pentecost is the most dynamic of the Church’s feasts: flames moving, breath stirring, tongues loosened, and human hearts set in motion.

Our readings this evening place us right at the heart of that movement: from promise to fulfilment, from desolation to restoration, from fear to boldness.

Joel’s prophecy begins in devastation.

Israel has suffered a locust plague so severe that the land is stripped bare, the people demoralised, hope worn thin.

Yet into that bleakness God speaks a word of astonishing tenderness:

Fear not, O land; be glad and rejoice, for the Lord has done great things!

Even the animals are addressed - ‘Fear not, you beasts of the field’ - as if creation itself is being coaxed back to life.

Joel’s vision is one of total restoration.

Pastures become green again, trees bear fruit, threshing floors overflow.

And then comes that extraordinary promise:

I will restore to you the years which the swarming locust has eaten.

Not simply better days ahead, but redeemed time - lost years, wasted seasons, barren stretches of life gathered up and made fruitful again by the mercy of God.

But Joel’s prophecy rises beyond material renewal.

It culminates in something even more astonishing: ‘I will pour out my spirit on all flesh.’

Not on kings alone, nor prophets alone, nor priests alone - but on all flesh.

Sons and daughters, old and young, servants and maidservants.

The Spirit will not be rationed; God’s life flows over everyone.

Pentecost is the fulfilment of that promise.

When Peter stands before the crowds in Jerusalem, he does not offer a new idea or clever argument.

He points back to Joel and says, ‘This is what was spoken by the prophet Joel.’

What they are witnessing - the rushing wind, the tongues of fire, the disciples speaking in many languages - is not chaos but fulfilment.

The God who promised to restore the years eaten by locusts is now restoring humanity itself, breathing new life into a fearful and fractured world.

Peter emphasises the universality of the gift:

I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh… your sons and your daughters shall prophesy… your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.

The Spirit does not erase our differences; the Spirit sanctifies them.

Young and old, men and women, servants and free—each receives a share in God’s life, each is called into God’s mission.

Pentecost is not the birth of a spiritual elite; it is the birth of a Spirit‑filled people.

Joel’s promise of restoration speaks powerfully into our own lives.

The locusts of illness, grief, regret, missed opportunities stalk our lives, ready to nibble away our hope.

Pentecost tells us that God does not only forgive; God restores.

The Spirit brings life out of what seemed dead, rekindles joy where it had faded, renews courage where fear had taken root.

The disciples themselves are living proof.

Only weeks earlier they had scattered in fear.

Peter, ‘The Rock’ - a somewhat ironic nickname at this stage - had denied Jesus.

Their hopes had collapsed.

Yet on Pentecost morning Peter stands “with the eleven,” no longer hiding, no longer ashamed, but proclaiming the gospel with clarity and boldness.

The Spirit restores what fear had broken.

And forms and shapes a people, the Church.

Our task is then to be witnesses to this.

The disciples speak in many languages, not to display spiritual gifts, but so that ‘each one heard them speaking in his own language.’

Pentecost reverses the scattering of the Tower of Babel.

Where human pride once fractured communication, the Spirit creates understanding.

Where suspicion once divided, the Spirit builds communion.

This is what we must speak into a world marked by polarisation, mistrust, and the retreat into echo chambers.

Pentecost calls the Church to be a community where strangers become neighbours, where differences are gifts rather than threats, where the Spirit enables us to hear one another deeply: this is what humanity can look like!

And we cannot huddle in a like‑minded community, because the Spirit of Pentecost sends us out in mission.

Joel’s prophecy ends with a promise of salvation:

All who call upon the name of the Lord shall be delivered.

Peter echoes it:

Whoever calls on the name of the Lord shall be saved.

Pentecost is not an inward‑looking feast.

It is the moment the Church is propelled outward.

The Spirit does not come to make us comfortable; the Spirit comes to make us witnesses.

A Spirit‑filled witness is not someone who has pre-packaged answers, but someone whose life points to the living God - someone who speaks truth with humility, loves with courage, forgives with generosity, hopes against hope.

Someone who, like Peter, can stand before the world and say: God’s promises are trustworthy; God’s mercy is real; God’s Spirit is for you.

Pentecost also invites us to dream again.

Joel says,

Your old men shall dream dreams, and your young men shall see visions.

The Spirit gives the Church holy imagination - the ability to see the world as God sees it, to envision what God desires, to believe that renewal is possible even when circumstances suggest otherwise.

Perhaps the most countercultural thing the Church can do today is to dream: to imagine a world reconciled, a community healed, a creation restored, a humanity renewed by the breath of God.

Pentecost is God’s great ‘yes’ to a world that has known too many ‘noes.’

It is the promise that the Spirit is still being poured out, still restoring, still reconciling, still empowering.

No life is too broken, no community too divided, no church too weary for God to renew.

So as we keep the feast, let us open ourselves again to the Spirit who restores the years the locust has eaten, who forms us into a people of compassion and understanding, who sends us out as witnesses of Christ, and who teaches us to dream God’s dreams.

Come, Holy Spirit. Renew your Church. Renew your people. Renew your world.

Bound together in the One Spirit let us pray the Grace.

 

Of peace and power: the Day of Pentecost

 Acts 2:1-11 ‘They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak.’

1 Corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13 ‘In one Spirit we were all baptised into one body.’

John 20:19-23 ‘As the Father has sent me, even so I am sending you. Receive the Holy Spirit.’

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Every time we gather for the Holy Eucharist, we hear again the words Jesus entrusted to his disciples on the night before he died: ‘Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.’ (John 14:27).

As one reflection puts it, ‘How great is the need of the Christian community and the whole of humanity to taste to the full the riches and power of Christ’s peace!’ (Pope Benedict XVI, Regina Coeli, 2015).

These words echo through our hearts today as we celebrate Pentecost, the feast of outpouring of the Holy Spirit.

Pentecost is sometimes called the Church’s birthday, but it is more than an anniversary.

It is the moment when the risen Christ breathes his own life into his people.

It is the moment when frightened disciples become courageous witnesses.

It is the moment when the peace Jesus promised becomes a living, burning reality.

And it is the moment when the Church discovers her mission: to proclaim Christ to the nations, not by human strength, but by the power of the Spirit.

When Jesus speaks of peace, he does not mean the fragile peace of the world—an uneasy truce, a temporary calm, the absence of conflict.

His peace is something deeper, richer, and more demanding.

It is the peace that comes from being reconciled to God, from knowing that we are loved, forgiven, and healed.

It is the peace that flows from the cross and the empty tomb.

It is the peace that the world cannot give and cannot take away.

Pentecost is the fulfilment of that promise.

The disciples had locked themselves away in fear.

They had the message of the resurrection, but they did not yet have the courage to proclaim it.

They had faith, but not yet boldness.

They had hope, but not yet the fire.

And then, suddenly, the Spirit comes - like wind, like flame, like breath - and everything changes.

The peace Jesus promised becomes power.

The timid disciples become fearless.

The silent become eloquent.

The scattered become united.

The Church is born not through strategy or planning, but through the sheer gift of the Holy Spirit of God.

Here as the newly born we learn to speak, to speak of the mighty acts of God in Christ, and as we speak of Him, authentically and passionately, others hear, speakers of different languages comprehend and those scattered come into communion with each other.

The Church is catholic - universal - not because we are all the same, but because the Spirit gathers us into one Body with many members.

The disciples do not stay in the upper room.

The Spirit pushes them out into the streets, into the crowds, into the world.

Pentecost is not an inward-looking feast; it is a missionary feast.

The Spirit is always pushing the Church outward: towards the poor, the lonely, the forgotten, the searching, the wounded.

And this mission is not reserved for clergy or specialists.

Every baptised Christian is sealed with the Spirit.

Every one of us is sent.

Every one of us has gifts to offer.

Christian mission cannot be sub-contracted; it’s your task as much of mine.

The Spirit equips us in different ways - some to speak, some to serve, some to encourage, some to pray, some to lead, some to listen.

But all of us are called to bear witness to Christ.

The question for us today is simple: where is the Spirit sending you?

To whom is God calling you to bring peace, hope, or compassion?

What gifts has the Spirit placed within you that the Church needs today?

And Pentecost is not only about the Church; it is about the whole creation.

The psalmist prays, ‘When you send forth your Spirit, they are created; and you renew the face of the earth.’ (Psalm 104.30)

The Spirit is the breath of God that hovered over the waters at creation.

He is the breath that gives life to Adam.

He is the one who overshadows Mary to be Mother of the Lord.

Wherever there is renewal, healing, reconciliation, or hope, the Spirit is at work.

Wherever a heart turns back to God, the Spirit is moving.

Wherever forgiveness is offered, the Spirit is present.

Wherever justice is pursued, the Spirit is stirring.

Pentecost is not a one-off event; it is the ongoing work of God in the world.

And this means that we are never without hope.

Even when the world feels dark, even when the Church feels weak, even when our own hearts feel dry, the Spirit is still breathing, still moving, still renewing.

The Spirit is God’s guarantee that despair never has the final word.

‘Peace I leave with you’ says the Lord, ‘my peace I give to you.’

That’s not a sentimental wish; it’s a promise sealed by the Spirit.

Christ’s peace is not an escape from the world’s troubles; it is the strength to face them.

It is the courage to forgive, the patience to endure, the compassion to serve, the humility to listen, the boldness to speak truth in love.

On this Day of Pentecost, Christ offers that peace to us again.

He breathes his Spirit upon us.

He invites us to open our hearts, to let go of fear, to receive the fire of his love.

Anxiety and weariness, uncertainty about the future, powerlessness in the face of the world’s suffering: if any of those things speak to where you are, the breath of Christ’s Spirit of peace speaks to you, to strengthen, encourage and renew you.

So today, let us pray with confidence:

Come, Holy Spirit -
fill the hearts of your faithful.
Kindle in us the fire of your love.
Renew your Church.
Heal our divisions.
Send us out in mission.
Make us bearers of Christ’s peace.

And may the peace Jesus promised -
the peace the world cannot give -
the peace poured out at Pentecost -
take root in our hearts, our homes, our parish, and our world.

Amen.

Sing praise seraphicwise - an Evensong sermon

 2 Samuel 23.1-5 The Spirit of the Lord speaks by me; his word is on my tongue. The God of Israel has spoken.

Ephesians 1.15-end The Father put all things under Christ’s feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, ²³ which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.

Anthem text

God is gone up with a triumphant shout:
The Lord with sounding Trumpets' melodies:
Sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praise, sing Praises out,
Unto our King sing praise seraphicwise!
Lift up your Heads, ye lasting Doors, they sing,
And let the King of Glory enter in.

Methinks I see Heaven's sparkling courtiers fly,
In flakes of Glory down him to attend,
And hear Heart-cramping notes of Melody
Surround his Chariot as it did ascend;
Mixing their Music, making ev'ry string
More to enravish as they this tune sing.

 

Therefore God has highly exalted Jesus Christ and bestowed on him the name that is above every name. Philippians 2:9

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This evening’s anthem – and you have the text before you - is both packed full of theology, rich scriptural imagery and the most delicious language.

God is gone up with a triumphant shout: the Lord with sounding Trumpets’ melodies

It speaks so well of the Ascension of the Lord that we celebrated last Thursday, Ascension Day.

It draws from the psalms of David, the shepherd-king described in the first lesson as ‘the sweet psalmist of Israel’ (2 Samuel 23.1)

The ascent, the going up, with the ‘trumpets’ melodies’ is a beautiful rendering of Psalm 47.5

Sing praise to the king.

The Ascension of the Lord is the triumph of the kingship of Christ, not as an earthbound king, in the model of David, who is his prototype, but the King of the Universe, sovereign in all times and places.

In the Ascension Jesus Christ, brings his earthly kingdom into his heavenly kingdom, human flesh into the courts of heaven.

No wonder language gives out and goes into the celestial.

Where else can a word like ‘seraphicwise’ be used.

Seraphicwise certainly gets your spell checker going.

The word speaks of the things of heaven, the domain of seraphs who with the cherubim are described amongst the heavenly host.

Christ arrives and we are to praise him seraphicwise as the king of glory enters in.

There the text draws on the closing verses of Psalm 24:

Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors : and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is the King of glory : it is the Lord strong and mighty, even the Lord mighty in battle.

Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and be ye lift up, ye everlasting doors : and the King of glory shall come in.

Who is the King of glory : even the Lord of hosts, he is the King of glory. (Psalm 24.7-10)

And that psalm asks in a preceding verse:

Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord : or who shall rise up in his holy place? (Psalm 24.3)

Who can? Can you, can I? The psalm answers its own question:

Even he that hath clean hands, and a pure heart : and that hath not lift up his mind unto vanity, nor sworn to deceive his neighbour. (Psalm 24.4)

Our conduct on earth connects to our entrance to heaven: lives lived in purity of action and heart; lives of humility and not proud vanity; lives lived with integrity with our neighbour.

Christianity is rooted in action that anticipates the realities of heaven: ‘thy will be done on earth, as it is in heaven’.

But the anthem took us to the threshold of heaven

Methinks I see Heaven's sparkling courtiers fly,
In flakes of Glory down him to attend,
And hear Heart-cramping notes of Melody
Surround his Chariot as it did ascend;
Mixing their Music, making ev'ry string
More to enravish as they this tune sing.

Where to start with the beauty of that language, language that speaks of heaven, of ‘Heaven’s sparkling courtiers’, ‘flakes of glory’?

‘Flakes of glory’: what does it mean?

Does it matter if we don’t know what it literally mean?

Let’s not try to overdefine: we see flakes of glory; we hear, ‘Heart-cramping notes of melody’.

‘Heart-cramping’ we might say that this vision of heaven is a heart stopper, and that surrounds the ascending king in his chariot.

That itself echoes Elijah’s assumption into heaven, as he was parted from his fellow prophet Elisha and was taken up into heaven:

And as they still went on and talked, behold, chariots of fire and horses of fire separated the two of them. And Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. (2 Kings 2.11)

How else do we describe ascent into heaven, especially that of the king:

Mixing their Music, making ev'ry string
More to enravish as they this tune sing.

The heavenly music enravishes; ravish, in this context, meaning to be filled with an intense joy, we are enravished as the king of glory enters in.

Christ is exalted and given a name that is above every name.

He enters heaven, and, at  the same time, no longer bound by time and space, promises to be present with us until the end of the age, enters the temple of the human body in his real presence.

This is surely the ‘glorious inheritance in the saints’ that St Paul writing to the Ephesians speaks of:

and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power towards us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all. (Ephesians 1.19-23)

Let us pray

 

Grant, we pray, almighty God,

that as we believe your only-begotten Son our Lord Jesus Christ

to have ascended into the heavens,

so we in heart and mind may also ascend

and with him continually dwell;

who is alive and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

 

Lord God,

we believe that the Saviour of all

is enthroned with you in majesty.

Listen to our prayer,

and, according to his promise,

let us feel his presence among us

to the end of time.

Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,

who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

God, for ever and ever.

 

Giving thanks for our fellowship with saints in heaven and earth we say the Grace…

The origin and destination

Acts 6:1-7 ‘They chose seven men full of the Holy Spirit.’

1 Peter 2:4-9 ‘But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood.’

John 14:1-12 ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life.’

 

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Popular culture has got very interested, in recent years, in exploring the ‘origin stories’ of fictional characters, real people, movements and ideologies.

‘Origin stories’ help us make sense of things.

Our first two readings give, what you could call, ‘Christian origin stories’.

These accounts reflect the way in which the first Christians began to order themselves, under the promptings of the Holy Spirit, and help us understand why patterns of Christian life developed as they did, so as to serve the Gospel and the needs of the Church, to this day.

In his first letter, the Apostle St Peter connects the identity of the church with Christ’s crucifixion.

His death on the cross was then, and is now, a stumbling block to many when it comes to faith in Jesus Christ as Son of God and Saviour of the world.

But that stone, that many trip over, is for those of faith, in fact, a foundation stone, on which God builds the spiritual house that is his Church.

The foundational identity of the Church, and of the Christian, is to be found in baptism.

Baptism is the common identifier of the Christian, but the Christian is never a Christian in isolation, but always in connection with the whole, that is why the Church is catholic.

That word, which we often translate as meaning ‘universal’ is from the Greek kata-holos: kata, meaning ‘concerning’ or ‘about’, and holos, meaning the whole, think of the word holistic.

The Church is concerned with the whole: the whole picture of the salvation of God and our identity as Christians.

As part of the whole, we are not Christians in isolation: my salvation is not a private matter between me and God; I am part of a Body not the sum of it.

As St Peter puts it:

you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession (1 Peter 2.9a)

And that is not just so we can feel good about ourselves – “we’re on God’s side” or “God’s on my side” - but we are baptised into this, ‘chosen race, royal priesthood, and holy nation’ for a purpose.

And the purpose is clear:

that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvellous light. (1 Peter 2.9b)

That contrasts with those who stumble and disobey and fall into darkness.

So there is the call to make your life built on the foundation of Jesus Christ.

And what we also find going on here is that the general task of proclaiming the greatness of God, which is the task of every single one of us, is worked out in particular ways.

In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles we see that an ordering of ministries flows from the task of mission and proclamation.

It is recognised that the Apostles need to be released to focus on apostolic tasks and not to be distracted by tasks that others can do equally well as them, if not better.

The twelve Apostles gathered the whole body of believers together to say, ‘It is not right that we should give up preaching the word of God to serve tables’. (Acts 6.2).

That is not because serving tables is beneath them, but so that the Apostles can devote themselves to what is proper to them, which is ‘to prayer and to the ministry of the word.’ (Acts 6.4).

It is like me, as a priest, spending all my time doing things I am not very good at: managing projects; scrutinising budgets; repairing church plumbing.

My call is not to that but to celebrating the sacraments, preaching the Word and leading the Church here: thanks be to God others bring their skills and calling to the Church to manage projects, deal with numbers and practical tasks.

What we see in the Acts of the Apostles is a sacred order developing, under the guidance of the Spirit, not just a pragmatic allocation of jobs.

These seven men named in the passage are to serve after the example of Christ who ‘came to serve and not to be served’. (Matthew 20:28)

These seven are the first deacons, in Greek διάκονος (diakonos), which primarily means ‘servant,’ ‘waiter,’ or ‘minister.’

And theirs is an ordered ministry because before they took up their task to serve at table the Apostles prayed and laid their hands on them.

To this day this is the pattern of ordination of deacons, priests and bishops, and the same action used at confirmation too.

Overarching this ordering of the Church - with the Apostles and deacons serving the baptised in priestly and practical service - the purpose of Jesus Christ’s mission in the first place is to lead us home to our heavenly Father, to the dwelling place of God, where we find our true home.

Here’s not just the ‘origin story’ but the ‘destination story’ too!

This is what Jesus is pointing us to when he says to Philip, ‘I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.’

He is saying quite plainly that God is unknowable without Him, and that to see Jesus is to see God: as St Paul puts it elsewhere, ‘Christ is the image of the invisible God’ (Colossians 3.12).

See him and you see the Father; and when you to walk in his way, rejoice in his truth, and share his risen life then you are walking in the ways intended by God for human beings.

This is our ‘destination story’ as a Christian people on the path, the road, the route, the way with Jesus Christ and in Jesus Christ.

If we are not on the path that is Christ, then we are not on the way to the Father’s house, our heavenly dwelling, and worse we trip up over the foundation stone rather than build our lives on it.

Last week the Church celebrated the great saint of the 14^th century, Catherine of Siena.

Catherine has many wise and ‘tough love’ sayings and here’s one beautiful one, that reminds us that our ‘destination story’ is also to be lived out today:

All the way to heaven is heaven, because Jesus said, "I am the way”.

Our true ‘origin story’ and ‘destination story’ is when Jesus says, ‘I am the Way, and I am the Truth and I am the Life’.

The Church, the company of the baptised, served by its bishops, priests and deacons, exists to walk that way, invite others to walk that way and at the last to come by that way to the Father, to whom we pray in the words of Psalm 143:

Let me hear of your loving-kindness in the morning,

    for in you I put my trust;

show me the way I should walk in,

    for I lift up my soul to you. (Psalm 143.8)

The Good Shepherd calls

 Acts 2:14a, 36-41‘God has made him both Lord and Christ.’

1 Peter 2:20b-25 ‘You have returned to the Shepherd of your souls.’

John 10:1-10 ‘I am the door of the sheep.’

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Today is traditionally known as ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’ because our scripture texts give different aspects and implications of the fact that Jesus is the Good Shepherd, a title he gives himself in St John’s Gospel.

Woven into calling today ‘Good Shepherd Sunday’ it is also known as ‘Vocations Sunday’ when we are invited to hear afresh, or for the first time the vocation, the call from the Lord that is placed upon our lives.

The voice of the shepherd of the sheep, the true shepherd, the Good Shepherd will be heard and responded to when we are led to good pasture.

That is contrasted with a voice we may well hear, a seductive, enticing voice, that leads us away from all that is of Christ, that is good and beautiful and true.

And Jesus deploys a metaphor to contrast two sorts of shepherd, with two very different ends.

The true shepherd calls and leads the flocks to good pasture; the false shepherd will call and lead to arid and deathly places, which will not nourish the body or the soul.

That sort of shepherd is rightly called a ‘stranger’ because that sort of shepherd is utterly estranged from the needs of the sheep.

The contrast appeared in our first reading too as St Peter addresses the crowds in Jerusalem, alongside the Eleven who are the foundation of the pastoral office of the Church.

The one who is no stranger to your needs of body and soul, for your forgiveness and healing is Jesus Christ.

The Lord is calling people to himself – that is our first and fundamental vocation – calling people to himself with the promise he holds in store, the promise of ‘good pasture’ in this world and the next.

That is contrasted with the ‘crooked generation’, estranged from human flourishing, that calls us, and keeps us, in the valley of the shadow of death, as Psalm 23 puts it.

This replicates the first call to life with God or death without him that we see in the garden of Eden, and the human response.

Resist the serpent’s gentle whisperings for they estrange us from the voice of the Beloved, of Christ. And as the first letter of Peter puts it, and well known from Handel’s Messiah, ‘all we, like sheep, have gone astray’ but also reminds us that we hear the call to return.

Our second reading was from a letter of St Peter.

He was writing to persecuted Christians, scattered across Asia Minor, Turkey today.

He was being a pastor to those people, modelling himself on the example of Christ to lead these suffering people through the valley of the shadow of death.

The sad irony is that today in those same lands Christians are persecuted, not by the Roman authorities, but by the Islamist regimes currently in control.

So Peter, echoing Jesus, calls us through the valley of the shadow of death and the suffering that accompanies it, into the green pastures promised by the Psalm, ‘for to this you have been called’ he says (1 Peter 2.21).

Peter speaks of our return to ‘the Shepherd and Overseer of our souls’.

Overseer in Greek is episcope from which we get the word, ‘episcopal’ meaning things to do with a Bishop.

The Bishop oversees the Church.

The task of the shepherd can be seen in the staff a shepherd carries, carried also by a Bishop in the Church.

This staff, or crook (because of its hooked end), signifies protection, guidance and salvation.

It protects by being used by the shepherd to ward off wild animals who prey on the sheep.

In the Church that is the staff of good doctrine and teaching that protects us from the seductive voices that don’t want to hear Christ’s call to life, but offer a pale imitation of it which is pale and deathly.

Jesus said, ‘I came that they [the ones who hear his call] may have life and have it abundantly’. (John 10.10)

The staff is used by the shepherd to guide the sheep to green pastures and abundance of life and stop them straying from the good path.

In the Church that is the staff of the Scriptures that guides us to an ever deepening and intimate union with Christ: pray for bishops and priests to hold the scriptures before Christ’s flock and preach faithfully and well.

The staff is used by the shepherd to save stranded and lost sheep and those who are stuck.

In the Church this is the staff of the sacraments that are channels of God’s grace: the saving waters of Baptism; the presence and life of Christ in Holy Communion; the spiritual strengthening of Confirmation; the restorative forgiveness of sins when the believer opens his or her heart to the Lord in Penance; the soothing balm of Unction, the anointing of the sick and dying; and for those so called, the sacrament of Matrimony, marriage, echoing the marriage of Christ to his Bride the Church; and some the Sacrament of Holy Orders.

Protection. Guidance. Salvation.

Each for the body, mind and spirit.

This is the great gift of Christ through his Church, and something all priests and pastors should seek to offer Christ’s people too. After the example of the Good Shepherd, as we are told at Ordination.

So, Jesus is the Good Shepherd, the true shepherd who leads to spiritual nourishment and calls us to reject false shepherds or the voices that lead astray.

Jesus cares for your soul and seeks to nourish you with abundant life.

As the Good Shepherd he protects, guides and saves your soul

As the Good Shepherd calls and those who are his know his voice: he continues to call you and me to service in His Name.

And what is the Good Shepherd calling to you, asking of you?

Ponder God’s call in your life, whether afresh or for the first time.

Be sure that you have given a general call to follow the voice of Christ amidst competing and misleading influences of the world as a disciple of his.

And be sure that he has a particular call to you to serve Him through his Church for the salvation of the world: what will that look like for you?

The measure of any authentic call is that it brings the one called, and those they serve, to the abundant life of the Good Shepherd revealed in beauty, goodness and truth, and to whom we ascribe all mighty, majesty, dominion and power, now and ever. Amen.

By his holy and glorious wounds

Acts 2:42-47 ‘All who believed were together and had all things in common.’

1 Peter 1:3-9 ‘He has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.’

John 20.19-31 Eight days later, Jesus came

Though you have not seen him, you love him.

Though you do not now see him,

you believe in him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory,

obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls. (1 Peter 3.9)

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By his holy

and glorious wounds,

may Christ the Lord

guard us

and protect us. Amen.

These words are used at the Great Vigil of Easter as the Paschal Candle is prepared.

The priest or bishop will have marked the sign of the cross on the candle, and then, the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, Alpha and Omega, signifying Christ says of himself in the Book of Revelation, ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega, the first and the last, the beginning and the end.’ (Revelation 22.13)

Then he pushes five grains of incense, on what look like sharpened pins, into the wax of the candle.

Those pins signify Christ’s wounds: the wounds he incurred on the cross, and the wounds he showed his disciples after His Resurrection from the dead: wounds we call holy and glorious, and wounds of mercy and healing.

Why five wounds?

Two in each hand; two in each foot; and one in his side, made by the soldier’s lance, from which flowed blood and water. (John 19.34,37)

These wounds recall the pain and agony of crucifixion, pinning Christ to the cross, which He endured out of love for us and for the salvation of our souls.

These wounds also are a form of guarantee of two really significant things that are integral to our Christian faith:

1.    Jesus is no ghost; ghosts don’t bear wounds, no more than they eat and drink as we know the Crucified and Risen Lord did;

2.    These wounds also guarantee that there is no discontinuity or rupture between the man crucified and the man who is raised.

It is entirely wrong to speak of ‘the crucified Jesus’ on one hand and the ‘Risen Christ’ on the other, as if there are two different people, or that there is a ‘before and after’ Jesus.

We should speak of the Crucified and Risen Lord.

It reminds us that what we commemorated on Good Friday relates profoundly to what we celebrate at Easter and through these fifty days of Eastertide.

And these wounds, along with his breaking of bread and breathing of peace, are what makes Jesus recognisable is his wounds.

His Resurrection does not airbrush out the pain and agony as if that was incidental or not real: it was real pain, real agony, and it was necessary to reveal to us the depths of Christ’s love and power to save.

So, the wounds of Christ are not a peripheral interest but are, as the words that accompany the piercing of the paschal Candle say, they are ‘holy and glorious wounds.’

And this is not theory it’s personal, in the best way, as we see from that merciful and loving encounter Jesus has with Thomas.

On the Day of Resurrection itself, when the Crucified and Risen Lord had appeared to everyone, but when Thomas had not been present, Thomas famously, and somewhat impetuously, says:

“Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” (John 20.25b)

Eight days later, the following Sunday, i.e. today, Thomas is with the others when the Crucified and Risen One, breathing peace, comes to them again.

And Jesus’ means of convincing Thomas on His Resurrection is the wounds on His Body from the cross.

He didn’t subject him to a lecture, he didn’t suggest that the Resurrection wasn’t about his body being raised from the dead, as if the other disciples just had a warm feeling of memories of Jesus that made them think he is raised from the dead: no, the wounds are what Jesus uses to convince Thomas that he is the crucified and Risen Lord.

“Put your finger here, and see my hands; and put out your hand, and place it in my side. Do not disbelieve, but believe.”

That act of seeing and touching the wounds is what transformed Thomas’s incredulity into belief:

‘My Lord and my God!’ (John 20.28)

What a declaration!

Thomas really has got it!

The wounds of pain, agony and torment, are holy and glorious wounds, and they are wounds of mercy and healing.

Divine Mercy always relates to Divine Judgement: without judgement there is no mercy.

In the wounds of Jesus there is judgement because there we see marks of human sin and brutality and there is Thomas’ lack of belief, something we are all prone to share.

Christ’s wounds are more than enough to condemn us.

But, this is the thing, Christ’s judgment of humanity, of Thomas, of you and me, is merciful, not because Christ is a soft touch, not because he is woolly and let’s anything go, but because he wills us to be saved, he wills us to be one with Him and the Father, in the power of the Spirit, at peace with Him.

And that mercy flows to us, who, ‘have not seen and yet have believed.’ (John 20.29b)

What great mercy we are shown, that we are called blessed who have not seen, have not touched, but rely on the witness of Mary Magdalene, Peter, John, and yes, of Thomas, of saints through the ages, and yet have believed.

The poet Gerard Manly Hopkins, in a translation of words of St Thomas Aquinas puts it beautifully:

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But can plainly call thee Lord and God as he;
Let me to a deeper faith daily nearer move,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

(Adoro te Devote, St Thomas Aquinas, trans Fr. Gerard Manley Hopkins, SJ)

 

Shaken and stirred: An Easter Day sermon

Acts of the Apostles 10.34a,37-43 ‘We ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.’

Colossians 3.1-4 ‘Seek the things that are above, where Christ is.’

Matthew 28.1-10 ‘He has risen and he is going before you to Galilee.’

 

Alleluia. Christ is risen!

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The Gospel proclamation of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is, quite literally, earth shaking news.

When someone hears dramatic news they often describe themselves as being shaken by it, and we know what they mean.

Often others can see it too: ‘so and so looked very shaken by the news.’

Being shaken by news means one has a total shock to the system: adrenaline, cortisol and dopamine flood the body, your heart rate increases and you feel quite unlike yourself.

Actually ‘shaken’ is an understatement in what Mary Magdalene and the other Mary encountered.

They were terrified and the guards, we heard, ‘trembled and became like dead men’ (there’s an irony, because this otherwise is a scene of overwhelming life), but then this was very bad news for them, they now had to account for the fact that the body they were guarding was missing.

But those women could be reassured, yes, they were afraid, but underneath we sense that they knew something like this might happen: after all, Jesus had been very up front about it throughout the gospels.

Nevertheless, the angel told them not to be afraid; Christ was risen from the dead.

The Easter proclamation includes soothing our human fears and insecurities in the face of Divine Power, as well as the fundamental message: he is risen.

And the earth itself was so shaken that it could not rest still, it quaked and shook.

So, what shook the earth; what shook up those women?

The earth shook because the one who declared ‘let there be light’, who brought the sun and moon and stars into existence, who made the very earth, and all that dwells in it, had been buried in the earth, like the grain of wheat - and the earth could not hold him.

Nothing could restrain or contain his Resurrection life and resurrected body.

There are echoes of the book of Jonah, the great fish ‘vomited’ (yes, that’s the word used) vomited Jonah onto dry land. Jesus speaks of the sign of Jonah (Matthew 16.4) and here it is.

Jonah was in the belly of the great fish three days and Christ in the deep, dark earth and on the third day was raised: earth cannot restrain or contain the Crucified and Risen Lord.

And the two Marys had seen him buried on the eve of the Sabbath Day.

The Sabbath is of course the day of rest, given to us by God who rested on the seventh day after six days of creation.

It was on the sixth day of the week – what we’d call Friday – that mankind was created: on Good Friday mankind is recreated through the cross, as the New Adam reverses the violation, by the first Adam, of our relationship with God.

The women come at dawn on the first day of the week: this is Creation Day, and it is now New Creation Day, what the Church Fathers call the 8^th day of Creation.

A renewed sense of the earth shaking and quaking impact of the Resurrection of Christ would be a great tonic for the Church today.

In places resurrection hope has faded.

Like a plant that is root bound, some churches have become earthbound looing in on themselves and not to the Risen Lord – pale shadows of the vibrant life Christ gives.

In some churches Christians and Christian leaders fail to follow St Paul’s words in our second reading that raise our eyes and hearts to things heavenly:

Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. (Colossians 3.2)

Let’s be open to being shaken up again by the Easter proclamation of the Resurrection of the Crucified One.

Let us set our sights and our minds on things heavenly and eternal.

Let us call down heavenly power to restore the earth, reconcile lives and reanimate the Church.

It may be daunting, it may shake you up, but you’re here today to hear what Resurrection is and how earth, and life, shaking it surely is.

‘Do not be afraid’ the angel told the women and then said ‘Go quickly and tell…’

They ran towards life, and met the Lord of Life, Jesus himself said to them, and he says to us, ‘go and tell.’

We come to Jesus now, the Crucified and Risen Lord, the Lord of Life, sacramentally present in his Body and Blood, and from here we will go out into the world that needs His Life now as much as ever.

Be bearers of life where you live and work and share your life.

People will be shaken no doubt: let them be! Let them be shaken to know Christ who calls them to life, life in all its abundance.