Wednesday 20 April 2022

'No longer contained' An Easter Sermon

 Acts 10.34-43 ‘We have eaten and drunk with him after his resurrection’

 

1 Corinthians 15.19-26 Christ is the first-fruits of those who have died

 

John 20.1-18 He must rise from the dead

 

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Alleluia. Christ is risen.

 

This is the Christian proclamation par excellence!  Jesus Christ - truly God, truly human, born of the Virgin Mary – this Jesus, who died upon the cross and was buried is now alive, raised by the Father from the dead.

 

Christ is risen.

 

It lies at the heart of what we call ‘the mystery of faith’, a mystery whose depths we plumb in these days of Easter: ‘Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again’.

 

And as St Paul reflected in his first letter to the Corinthians, this is not an abstract idea. Resurrection is so much more than a general concept of new life, the cycle of birth and death or even the transformation of caterpillar, to chrysalis, to butterfly: those things of nature, beautiful as they are, point to, but are not, resurrection. Resurrection depends on a body, a body that was dead now alive.

 

Resurrection is shocking and in one sense against nature.

 

And it is wholly of God: ‘this is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes’, says the psalm (Ps 118.23).  

 

Resurrection is found in an encounter with the body of Jesus Christ made visible in the concrete, in person, embodied community of faith he draws around him to live his Risen Life and through the sacraments that body, the Church, celebrates.

 

That body, our first brothers and sisters in the church, made their way to the tomb. They did not find the bloodied corpse, but they found the tomb empty.

 

Mary Magdalene had gone to pay her respects at the tomb after Jesus’ brutal death, and instead finds herself responding to the reality which you and I are called to respond to today and, after her example, to pass on to others today, that Jesus Christ is not constrained by death, darkness and despair but is alive and risen.

 

There it is. Christ has died. Christ is risen.

The gospel passage for today paints a picture of urgency, of spreading the news, of bewilderment and of encounter.

 

Urgency. Mary arrives at the tomb so early in the morning that it was still dark. Such was her urgent desire to be near the body of her Lord and Teacher. On finding the tomb empty she urgently ran to tell Simon Peter and the beloved disciple. They in turn ran urgently to the tomb.

 

There is an urgency to the Christian life: this matters!

 

We see that urgency in those new Christians who have an intense and urgent appetite for Christ and in those lifelong Christians are renewed by a deep sense of assurance and hope. We see that urgency for Christ in the vibrant global Church.

 

Rekindling our urgent desire for the resurrection faith will be transformative for the life of the Church in England, where too often zeal flags in the face of a remote relationship with the gospel and with Jesus Christ.

 

Spread the news! With urgency comes a desire to hand this on; to spread the news. This news can’t be bottled up. Mary Magdalene had to go and tell. She became, in Pope Gregory the Great’s wonderful phrase, ‘the apostle to the Apostles’. Mary is sent to tell the ones who will in turn go and tell the whole world, as Peter says in the Acts of the Apostles..

 

Someone told you once of Jesus Christ. Perhaps it was a parent, a grandparent, godparent or friend. However you were told you are now to go and tell. Mary told two people, if you told two people of the power of faith in Jesus Christ and demonstrated in your life that it is life-giving and urgent, then the church here in this land would grow as it does in many parts of the world. People are going and telling in countries all around the world, which is why Christianity continues to grow.

 

And don’t tell a bland, dull, tepid, inoffensive account of this – that’s not the Gospel - speak of the vibrant, urgent life that comes from an encounter with the Living God in Jesus Christ.

 

Bewilderment. At the same time, we have to be frank; this is bewildering. It is not a superficial gospel we tell.

 

Mary Magdalene’s encounter with the Risen Lord was bewildering and disorientating. It took time for her to become aware of what was going on.

 

So many people look at the resurrection and are too bewildered to go further. They walk away. Mary was ready to stay, to pause, to ponder, to ask the deeper questions in her encounter with the Risen Lord.

 

That is the beginnings of a life of prayer and mystical union with Christ. And from that Mary realised that her life had to be re-ordered in relation to who Jesus Christ is. She couldn’t project her own desires onto him, be they romantic, deluded or idolising. She had to come to see him as he really was, stripping away the preconceptions she wanted to hold on to.

 

And again, reflecting on the complexity, she had to go and tell.

 

So the Easter Proclamation is not superficial: it is deep, it is urgent, bewildering, yet life giving. It has had, and still has, the capacity to turn the world upside down, human lives upside down, to reorient us to God, our Maker and our Redeemer,

 

So let us roll the stone away from our eyes and hearts, see the Crucified and Risen Lord and go, tell the Good News. Alleluia.

'Can you drink this cup' A sermon for Maundy Thursday

 

Exodus 12.1-8, 11-14 The Passover is a day of festival for all generations, for ever

 

1 Corinthians 11.23-26 Every time you eat this bread and drink this cup, you are proclaiming the death of the Lord

 

John 13.1-15 Now he showed how perfect his love was

 

‘The Son of Man who came to serve not to be served and give his life a ransom for many’ (Matthew 20.28; Mark 10.45).

 

 

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Tonight’s liturgy is perhaps the richest of the whole Christian year. 

 

It densely packs together scripture, and associated imagery, in a symphony of salvation.

 

We are presented with Christ, the servant king, washing his disciples’ feet: ‘the Son of Man who came to serve not to be served and give his life a ransom for many’.

 

We receive the Institution of the Eucharist at the Last Supper, in Christ’s Body and Blood as the Paschal Lamb, which itself connects us to the Passover and the recollection of deliverance from slavery.

 

We see the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, one of the twelve, and its themes of human betrayal intrigue and failings. We see the all too human flaws of Peter, who refuses to have his feet washed, and also denies Jesus, having emphatically said he wouldn’t ever do such a thing.

 

Maundy Thursday ends in Gethsemane, the place of Jesus’ prayer, facing, in union with the Father, what is about to unfold.

 

That sets the model for the Watch of the Passion, which we will observe at the close of the Liturgy where we are invited to ‘watch and pray’ in the sacramental presence of the Lord.

 

Maundy Thursday inaugurates a liturgical ‘event’ that runs through to the night of Holy Saturday, when Christ is raised from the dead.

 

This ‘event’ is known as the Triduum Sacrum, the Holy Three Days, and is all of a piece. It is, as it were, the longest Christian service or act of worship, albeit interspersed with going home for rest and to eat.

 

Faced with so many themes and implications we could baulk at it all. Take time, though, in these coming days to digest what is going on here. It sets the bearings for Easter, but also for the whole mystery of the Christian life.

 

We are at the heart of the Christian faith here. The incarnate Lord, who has assumed our humanity, endures suffering, his Passion, and plunges into death, that we might be raised to life.

 

A theme that runs throughout the Triduum Sacrum is that of ‘outpouring’.

 

The Passion of Jesus Christ is an outpouring of love for all humanity and an invitation into the inner life of God.

 

These holy days are marked by the outpouring of God’s life and love.

 

Water is poured out on the feet of the Twelve – an action replicated tonight on the feet of disciples here in this church.

 

That outpouring of water hints at baptism because it is not just about an external wash but an inner cleansing that incorporates us into the Divine Life. As Jesus said to Peter, ‘unless I wash you, you have no share with me’ (John 13.8b).

 

Also poured out at the Supper is wine. The Passover wine recalls the blood of the lambs daubed on the doors of the Israelites so that the avenging angel would pass over them so they could flee slavery in Egypt.

 

Wine is poured out in the Eucharist. And tonight, after two years of deprivation the chalice is restored to everyone who wishes to receive from it. Not receiving the Precious Blood does not halve your intake of Grace. The Church teaches that receiving in One Kind is sufficient, but drinking of the outpoured wine, now Christ’s blood, gives the one receiving a deeper sense of participation in the bloodless sacrifice of the Eucharist.

 

The outpouring of blood is integral to sacrifice. That was at the heart of the sacrificial system of the Temple in Jerusalem alluded to in our first reading from Exodus.

 

Our culture speaks a great deal of ‘an outpouring of emotion’ or ‘of sympathy’. Those metaphors are not the same as the outpouring of water and blood is Christ’s sacrifice: blood and water is material, substantial, real.

 

The lamb is the sacrificial creature par excellence. It was John the Baptist, our patron saint, who points to Jesus as the Lamb of God. Jesus fulfils John the Baptist’s prophecy that he, Jesus, would be the Lamb of God and the definitive sacrifice. St Paul later recognises this stating, ‘Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed’ (1 Corinthians 5.7).

 

This is why at the breaking of the bread of the Eucharist we sing the text ‘Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, miserere nobis’: ‘Lamb of God, you take away the sin of the world, have mercy upon us’.

 

As Christ’s broken body hung upon the cross - the definitive sacrifice of reconciliation to complete all sacrifice - a Roman soldier, in what was intended to be an act of mercy, pierced his side with a lance and from it flowed water and blood, the seed of Baptism and Eucharist.

 

The Passion is the greatest outpouring of sacrificial love from Christ, who is both priest and victim.

 

This sacrifice is made sacramentally present at every Eucharist —not for the sake of God, who has no need of it, but for our sake. In the Eucharist, we participate in the act by which divinity and humanity are reconciled, and we eat the sacrificed body and drink the poured-out blood of the Lamb of God.