Sermon for the Sunday after Easter, St Matthew’s, Oxford, 2020

Readings: Matthew 28: 16-20 and Acts 2: 14a and 22-32

My sermon today is about the Resurrection as is suitable for the first Sunday after Easter and hopefully it will be relevant to the strange situation we all find ourselves in. I will also say something about Jesus’ last words to his disciples as recorded in our reading from Matthew’s Gospel and how these were acted upon by Peter in our reading from Acts.

But first: resurrection.   I want to share with you something that has particularly struck me about resurrection this Easter and to reflect on how that relates to our current situation.  The thing that has struck me is how closely connected are the crucifixion and the resurrection.   Somehow we have got into the habit of seeing them as separate events: perhaps because we celebrate them on different days, but in reality they are so interconnected as to be almost one and the same thing. 

And this has been impressed upon me by some of the pictures I found to illustrate my reflection on the Stations of the Cross which was first streamed on Good Friday from this Facebook page.  But also by some of the pictures I have been looking at, for a possible reflection on the Stations of the Resurrection, on which perhaps more anon.  I am struck by the way some pictures of the crucifixion are very similar to pictures of the resurrection.

The two pictures I chose to illustrate the tenth station of my Good Friday Reflection are these [x]   The picture on the left is by Emil Nolde and painted around 1912.  The painting on the right is by Antonello da Messina painted in about 1500 [x]

The painting by Nolde depicts the crucifixion as recounted by Matthew, Mark and Luke, the painting by Antonello depicts the crucifixion as recounted by John.   How do I know that?   Well Matthew, Mark and Luke tell us that the sky went dark when Jesus finally died on the cross and Nolde has a dark background.  John makes no mention of darkness and Antonello’s’ sky is the clearest blue.  

For another thing John tells us that the John the disciple, the disciple that Jesus loved as he describes him, stood at the foot of the cross, together with Mary, Jesus’ mother, and some other women.   In Antonello’s painting you can see John and Mary sitting at the foot of the cross and three women approaching from a distance: you can just see them coming over the small hill behind the cross.   

Matthew, Mark and Luke make no mention of John or Mary the mother of Jesus but they do say that there were other women disciples standing there.  In Nolde’s painting you can see that there are three women standing on the left.

But one of the most striking differences between the two paintings is the height of the cross.  In Nolde’s painting Jesus is crucified with his feel just off the ground.  In Antonello’s painting it is almost as if Jesus is half-way to Heaven already. 

Nolde’s painting is in the grand tradition of paintings that focus on the suffering of Jesus and the distress of the onlookers who are his friends or family.  Just one more picture [x] to illustrate this tradition: Picasso’s picture of the crucifixion.  Here you can see Jesus on the cross against a black patch of sky, a smirking person on the right – presumably not a disciple – and two figures - one to the left and one at the base of the cross – in extreme grief.  The figure on the left is male and is presumably John, the other figure is female and is presumably Mary the mother of Jesus.  I think this picture powerfully evokes the suffering of the crucifixion.  But it seems to miss the point that that suffering was for a purpose.

In Antonello’s painting Mary and John, quite frankly, don’t look that distressed.  John in particular, seems to be gazing at Jesus in wonder.  

Now all four gospels emphasize the suffering of the crucifixion.   There is absolutely no doubt that this was a horrible way of dying.   But in John’s gospel Jesus is in control of what is happening to him – even at his arrest and right up to his death.   The last words of Jesus as recorded by Matthew are ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me’.   The last words of Jesus as recorded by John are ‘It is finished’.

In the first half of John’s gospel Jesus says three times that he must be lifted up when he comes to die.  The third time he says this is in Chapter 12 verse 32.  Here he says ‘And when I am lifted up from the earth, I shall draw all men to myself.’  In saying this Jesus is clearly referring to his crucifixion but perhaps also his resurrection and ascension. 

Jesus in his final discourse with, and prayers for, his disciples at the Last Supper talks about the glory of his final hours.   He prays (in Chapter 17 verse 1) ‘Father the hour has come: glorify your Son, that the Son may glorify you’.  We are used to thinking of the resurrection as somehow glorious but here Jesus is not just speaking of his resurrection but his crucifixion as well. 

  

So perhaps it is not surprising that some artists portray the crucifixion as both a raising up and glorious – just as the resurrection is both a raising up and glorious.   Here is a picture of the crucifixion by Raphael [x] and here is his picture of the Resurrection [x].Raphael has even moved the two angels that are described by Luke as being present at the tomb early on Easter morning from his resurrection scene to his crucifixion scene.

Now we might prefer the crucifixion scene as portrayed by Nolde or Picasso as being somehow more realistic.   But Antonello and Raphael also show us something real: God’s ability to transform suffering, in order to defeat it.   In their paintings there are still nails and blood but there is also ‘glory’.

Now I think this close connection between the crucifixion and the resurrection, between suffering and its transformation in the story of Jesus, is related to the situation we find ourselves in today.  The realisation of the connections should help us to develop a clearer perspective on the suffering caused by the virus and its meaning.  I think many of us are searching for a clearer perspective on the pandemic.  And there are lots of Christians happy to venture their take.  I suppose they/we must try.   I hesitate to do so.

Some of the Christians perspectives you can read or hear are simply wrong.  In particular the view that the pandemic is God’s judgement on us as if it was one of the seven plagues contained within the ‘seven bowls of the wrath of God’ as described in Revelation Chapters 15 and 16.

A more nuanced view, along the same sort of line, is that the emergence and spread of the virus is a consequence of our broken relationships with the natural environment.  As two Christian writers put it and I quote:  ‘God’s original intention was peace between all things – but this is not how we’re living. He created a world in which everything is connected, and there are natural consequences when those connections are broken.’  Here the implication is that we have broken those connection so the pandemic is our fault and now we see the consequences.  This, to me, doesn’t seem a million miles away from the pandemic as judgement idea.

Then there is the view that the pandemic is an opportunity.  At the extreme the idea here is that we Christians should take this opportunity to demonstrate that we are not afraid of death – even to the point of meeting together physically to worship, in contravention of public health advice – or the law in this country.  

A more subtle take on the pandemic as opportunity is that we as a church should, in this situation, be a brighter ‘light of the world’, demonstrate more clearly our compassion for the troubled in body, mind or spirit and be even more ‘prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks us to give the reason for the hope that we have’[1].   I am somewhat suspicious of this version pandemic as opportunity idea.  Shouldn’t we have been doing all these things before? 

Without wishing to minimise the suffering caused by the corona virus I do think there is plus side to the pandemic, if only to make us, Christians and non-Christians alike, think more about how we should be leading our lives.  But, more importantly I think, a first step in developing a truly Christian perspective on the virus, would to be as humble and open as possible.   But also to recognise the mystery: the mystery that God, while powerless to eliminate suffering, can transform it.

As with our review of pictures of the crucifixion we can see the pandemic in contrasting ways and in that connection it might be worth asking ourselves whether this is a time of crucifixion or of resurrection or of both.  The suffering of the crucifixion is transformed by the resurrection and this is surely also true of the pandemic.  From one perspective it can be viewed as a crisis but it also can be seen in a different light just as Antonello and Raphael could see the crucifixion.

So finally to our readings today.  The first was from Matthew’s Gospel and records his version of Jesus’ last resurrection appearance, his last words to his disciples and his Ascension into Heaven.  A third lifting up if you like.    In his parting words to his friends Jesus commands them to: ‘Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you’.  The disciples follow this command and Luke gives us an example in Peter’s sermon to the people,  from all nation, gathered in Jerusalem to celebrate Pentecost.  In this sermon Peter gives his hearers the good news about the resurrection which is why it is the lectionary reading for this the second Sunday of Easter.    The good news that Jesus’s resurrection transforms suffering, gives it meaning, if not purpose, is surely as relevant today as ever.

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[1] 1 Peter 3: 15

Trust and the everlasting arms/wings of God

Sermon for Sunday 22^nd March 2020, St Matthew's, Oxford

Readings: Luke 13: 31-35 and Isaiah 49: 14-18

Today it is, of course, impossible to give a sermon without mentioning the Corona Virus and the extraordinary situation we find ourselves in because of the pandemic.   It is also, of course, Mother’s Day and the fourth Sunday in Lent: three weeks before Easter: the day we would normally give out daffodils here at St Matthew’s.   We are now also two weeks away from Palm Sunday when we remember Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem on a donkey and our gospel reading today records an incident on the way to Jerusalem. 

Today my theme is ‘Trust’ prompted by our readings, which are about motherly aspects of God and the trust we can have in God’s mother-like protective arms, but also by a phrase in a song that you can find at the end of Deuteronomy where Moses sings about ‘ the everlasting arms of God.’  I should also say that some of my reflections comes from a Thought for the Day, on Friday, from Richard Harries.

So we find ourselves in a strange new world where church services have to be conducted via the Internet rather than in person.  Now all new situations provoke anxiety even if the change to our lives is relatively minor.   And the Corona Virus pandemic promises to lead to major changes to our lives whether we catch it or not.   And of course these changes are not just to our holiday plans but to our very health and wellbeing.

Now anxiety about the future is to some extent a good thing: it prompts us to plan and to take control with the rational part of our being.   In this situation we can do sensible things like washing our hands regularly, avoiding physical contact with others as much as possible, self-isolating if we catch the disease, etc.   And the Government too, can take measures to protect us.

But planning only takes us so far, firstly because we are not just rational but emotional beings and secondly because we can only rationally plan for the future in as much as we can predict what will happen.   The emotional side of our being means we are affected by anxiety about the future to different degrees.   Some are overcome by anxiety, some seem not to worry at all, even in the most normal of times let alone in times of crisis. .

But it is also the case that what will happen is always inherently uncertain and unpredictable to a larger degree than we may care to admit to ourselves. As the write of Ecclesiastes says:  ‘No one knows when their hour will come.’[1] And Jesus also says something similar when he talks about his second coming.  He says in St Matthew’s Gospel ‘But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father’.

So there are things about the future we just cannot know or predict.  And let us remember that we might not know our own future but God does: the hour Jesus’s return my not be known to him but it is known to the Father.  Furthermore the uncertainty inherent in life – revealed in situations like the one we find ourselves today - makes us realise that ultimately we are not in as much control of things as we might think we are. 

Now again, people react to uncertainty in different ways.  Some adopt a resigned fatalism, some a cheerful stoicism.  But the message of the Bible, and of our readings today, is that we should go beyond pessimistic fatalism or over-resigned stoicism. 

The scriptures, in both Old and New Testaments, urge an ultimate trust which, far from merely propping us up like a crutch, should empower us to take action.   Beyond what might seem immediately apparent, the Bible says, are the purposes of God.   Paul say: ‘We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.’    And Moses sings: ‘The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms’ [2].   Note that the arms are everlasting: they don’t run out, unlike the proverbial toilet roll. 

These everlasting arms are invoked by Isaiah when he says, in our Old Testament reading today: ‘Can a woman forget her nursing-child, or show no compassion for the child of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I [the Lord] will not forget you’[3]   And the Psalmist[4], extending the image of the all-powerful arms to the protective wings of a mother hen under which her chicks can hide in times of danger, says:

‘You who live in the shelter of the Most High,

    who abide in the shadow of the Almighty,

will say to the Lord, “My refuge and my fortress;

    my God, in whom I trust.”

For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler

    and from the deadly pestilence;

he will cover you with his pinions,

    and under his wings you will find refuge;’

Jesus, in our Gospel reading today, is put into a risky situation where he must trust God.  On his way to Jerusalem he is accosted with some friendly Pharisees who warn him of a threat to his life from Herod – the ruler of Galilee.  Jesus tells them that he is set on a course of action from which he will not be diverted.  He tells them that he has work to do – casting out demons and performing cures – which he intends to complete and then, instead of reassuring those around him that he will avoid danger, tells them he must be on his way to Jerusalem – the city that kills its prophets – and the place of greatest danger for him.

This wasn’t to say that Jesus wasn’t acting rationally in the situation he found himself in, or even that he wasn’t concerned about the threat from Herod.   It is just that in the end he felt, he trusted, that some things were more important that his own personal safety – as those who are working for us in our National Health Service today must also feel.

The value of this ultimate trust in God is that it directs us away from worrying too much about the future and directs us towards living fully in the now.   The eighteenth century priest Jean-Pierre de Caussade talked about the “sacrament of the present moment”.  He believed that receiving the present moment, just as we receive the body of Christ at Communion, and giving ourselves wholly to it, constitute life’s highest and holiest calling.   

One of the unexpected results of the Corona Virus pandemic might be that we come more fully to recognise that living for the now is more important that living for an imagined future.  And in this begin to discover a new joy and a deeper compassion for those around us as we trust in the everlasting arms of God.

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[1] Ecclesiastes 9: 1

[2] Deuteronomy33.27

[3] Isaiah 49

[4] Psalm 19