Fifth Sunday of Easter

May 3                                    NOTES FOR REFLECTION                                  Fifth Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 8:26-40; 1 John 4:7-21; John 15:1-7

Theme: The safe choice will be something based on the gospel passage; something like "The Vine and the Branches" or "Abiding in Him" shouldn't cause too much angst, particularly if the person reading the gospel remembers to lower his or her voice for verse 6.  For those of more adventurous bent the reading from Acts offers some enticing possibilities.  For lower grade excitement I suggest "The Teaching Ministry Goes On"; for medium grade, try "Where is Philip when we Need Him?"; and for high octane excitement, "Do you Know the Way to Azotus?", even though it doesn't scan as well as the original song on which it is based.  We could even find one or two possibilities entangled in the elderly ramblings in our second epistle: two possibilities with bite in them are "As He is so We Are" (v. 17) or "Perfect Love Casts out Fear" (v.18).

Introduction.  We start with this strange little story from Acts in which the bizarre and the eccentric, mixed with a little splash of Isaiah and a large dollop of exegesis, result in an alfresco baptism in a conveniently placed pool of water deep enough to immerse one man and part of another, followed by some mysterious form of "instant re-location" of Philip to Azotus.  There is nothing particularly strange about our second lesson, but a charge of being a tad repetitive may be harder to resist.  A good editor could have got the passage down to one paragraph of about 5-6 verses without omitting anything of substance.  We finish on a mystical high as we journey on through the so-called "Farewell Discourses": the image of the vine and the branches being, in many ways, equivalent to St Paul's concept of being "in Christ".

Background.  I have just begun reading a rather large tome from the wonderful scholar of religion, Karen Armstrong, called Fields of Blood: Religion and the History of Violence.  Her basic aim in the book is to examine the oft-made charge that religion is the major cause of war and violence in the world and we would all be better off without it.  [If you intend to read the book and don't want to know her conclusion, turn away now.]  She vigorously rebuts the charge – in fact, she buries it under a mound of evidence drawn, not only from Christian sources but those of other religious faiths, as well as non-religious traditions, teaching, and practices.  Perhaps more surprising is her conclusion that warfare was rooted in agriculture.  Only when our ancestors moved from hunting-gathering to tillage and (ultimately) raising livestock did the accumulation of wealth (in the form of food) become possible.  As always, accumulated wealth became a target for those without and therefore necessitated defensive measures by those with.  She says the first "city walls" appeared on earth only after humankind invented agriculture.  Ever since, she seems to be arguing (although I have only read the introduction so I may not be reflecting her views accurately) wars have been far more about territory and related issues than religion and ideology.

I suspect that I will be referring to this book for some time to come (you have been warned), but for now here is just one quote to be going on with:

Agrarian civilisations made this systemic violence a reality for the first time in human history.  ...  This inevitably had implications for religion, which permeated all human activities, including state-building and government.  Indeed, we shall see that pre-modern politics was inseparable from religion.  And if a ruling elite adopted an ethical tradition, such as Buddhism, Christianity or Islam, the clergy usually adapted their ideology so that it could support the structural violence of the state.

Sound familiar?

It's been an interesting time to begin reading this book, with Holy Week and Easter Day still fresh in my mind, followed by the extraordinary wall-to-wall coverage of the ANZAC commemorations, with all the usual myths, half-truths and downright lights that every nation's history becomes infected with.  Perhaps what I have found most hopeful this year is the gradual willingness to talk about the actual campaign as "an invasion", and to recognise that, as horrific as the ANZAC losses were, the Turkish losses were twice as bad.  Perhaps we are at last beginning to understand that war, this one included, and the Gallipoli campaign in particular, was not a Kiwi tragedy, or an ANZAC tragedy, but a human one.

And that point was brought sharply into focus for me by the extraordinary case of Scott McIntyre, which doesn't seem to have made the main news bulletins in this country, but has stirred up our ANZAC partner no end.  Mr McIntyre was a sports reporter for SBS television in Australia.  On Anzac Day he took to Twitter with a series of highly-inflammatory Tweets rubbishing the heroic image of the Aussie troops in World War I, accusing them of murder, rape, pillage, racism and goodness-knows-what-else in Egypt, Gaza and Palestine.  He was immediately fired by his employers, even though, it appears, he was not sending the Tweets during his working hours.

I wondered what on earth could have led the guy to be so grossly rude and offensive on Anzac Day of all days, and so I followed it up.  Nothing I found does, in my view, justify making those comments on that particular day.  But what I did find is a series of articles by eminent and respected historians stating that the allegations by Mr McIntyre were largely true.  In both World Wars the Aussies troops had been guilty of all the atrocities traditionally referred to as "spoils of war".  What are we to do with information like that?

The more I thought about it the more I came to the view that  Mr McIntyre was making the same mistake the hero-worshippers make on the other side of the history wars.  We do not remember them because they were good or bad, we do not lament their deaths because they were "innocent" and didn't deserve to suffer or die.  We lament their deaths because they were, like us, human beings, and the death of every human being is a loss of one of our own kind.  More lamentable still is the fact that vast numbers of them were killed by our own kind.

Think for a moment about the coverage of the executions in Indonesia this week.  Eight people were shot by firing-squad.  What do we know about 6 of them?  Virtually nothing.  What do we know about two of them?  Quite a lot, even though it was only the day after they were executed that I learned from the ODT that these two were known as "The Godfather" and "The Enforcer", and were serious criminals in the drug underworld.  My point is this: (with Helen Clark) I am totally opposed to the death penalty in any country, for any crime, committed by any person of any nationality.  That means in Indonesia, China, Saudi Arabia, the USA and anywhere else, whether we want a free trade deal with them or not.  So I do not lament the execution of two Australian men who didn't deserve to die because they had reformed: I lament the death of all eight who were executed, whatever their nationality, whatever their crime, and whatever their degree of rehabilitation.

And one day I hope to hear our Bishops express similar sentiments, even on Anzac Day.

Acts 8:26-40.  As always, it pays to go back a bit: start reading at verse 1, and follow the drama from then.  Stephen has just died his martyr's death, and Paul (Saul) is breathing fire and fury.  Christians are scattering in all directions, no doubt fearing for their lives, but "proclaiming the word" as they went.  Among those scattering was Philip, and of all places to scatter to, he scattered to Samaria (not usually a favourite resort for Jews), and, would you believe it, started "proclaiming the Messiah to them".  He was so successful in all he did and said that a local magician thought there was a trick to be made there and tried to join the new team.  He even got himself baptised – presumably the gift of discernment was not one Philip had received.  When news of all this reached headquarters back in Jerusalem, Peter and John were dispatched to Samaria.  They laid hands on the new converts who received the Holy Spirit.  For reasons that aren't spelled out, Simon was not involved in this early Confirmation service; but when he saw what was going on he was even more convinced that there was a trick to be made; so he offered cash up-front, no questions asked.  All he got in return was a right rollicking from Peter.  Peter and John then returned to Jerusalem, and the focus goes back on Philip.  We start with an angel whispering in his ear.  Okay so far?  Then we meet one of the most fascinating of the bit characters in the whole New Testament drama.  We are not told his name, but we are told his nationality, his sexual status, and his very high position in the royal court in his native Ethiopia.  What is never explained is why such a person would go to Jerusalem to worship, or why he would attempt to read Isaiah on the long difficult journey home.  I am intrigued by the passage he was reading, quoted in verses 32 and 33.  Is it not (at least as set out in this passage in the NRSV) a far more appropriate text to pay our respects to a fallen soldier than the verses from St John's Gospel that are usually cited?  The pattern of explaining the Scriptures follows that in some of the Appearance stories and serves the same purpose.  Following the somewhat impromptu baptism service, Philip is snatched away and finds himself in Azotus: unfazed, he "proclaimed the good news to all the towns until he came to Caesarea".  So there is something in all this about the unstoppable spread of the gospel.  After all, it has reached us – how much further can we spread it?

Taking It Personally.

• Start with that question.  How far can you spread it?
• Notice the structure of the story: Philip is "prompted" to go and do something; he obeys and meets a person with whom he would not usually have any dealings; they converse; they bond; Philip teaches and explains; the man is convinced and seeks baptism.  One-to-one faith sharing 101!  Are you convinced?
• When will you try it?

 

1 John 4:7-21.  As you may have gathered, this is not one of my favourite passages of Scripture.  Most of it is a somewhat overdone version of his teaching in the gospel, and adds very little that is new.  However, verse 18 is a gift:  Ponder it deeply and often.  Hate is not the direct opposite of love in the Christian sense, because hate is emotional.  The opposite of love as taught in the New Testament is fear.  Fear is what turns our brother or sister into a threat, and our neighbour into our enemy.  That is why the highest and mostly uniquely Christian commandment is to love our enemies.  Our war records show how often we have failed the test, and as Karen Armstrong points out, how often we have adapted our Lord's teaching to support "the structural violence of the state" (a.k.a. the war effort).

 

John 15:1-7.  It is important not to try to approach chapters 14-17 at the rational level.  They are clearly the work of a mystic who is trying, through images, metaphors, and similar rhetorical techniques, to convey to us his own deep inner experience of Christ.  In this passage he uses the image of the vine for which the same purpose as Paul uses the "Body of Christ" – to express the deep sense of union he has experienced with Christ.  If there is a difference between the two, it is in the unity between the fellow believers.  For Paul our membership of the Body of Christ means that we belong in Him and to one another.  John's image does not seem to me to go that far: indeed, individual branches, although together comprising the vine, remain individual branches and can be (and will be) jettisoned if they fail to produce good fruit.  This harder approach may well support the widely held view among scholars that John's Gospel and Letters come out of a deeply divided community that has already suffered many defections.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Put a pot plant in front of you and look at it for some time.  Notice how it comprises many individual branches.  Then snip one little branch off and lay it down beside the plant.  Then read through this passage slowly, and pray as the Spirit leads you.

Fouth Sunday of Easater

April 26                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Fourth Sunday of Easter

Texts:  Acts 4:5-12; 1 John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18

Theme:  A number of possibilities again this week.  But the overall theme is surely something about the "ongoing resurrection": because God raised Jesus to life, these things are happening.  So, to pinch a line from St Paul, what about "And We Are Raised Up With Him"?  The epistle reading can also serve the purpose of illustrating the consequences of the resurrection: as children of God our nature and actions are being transformed.  Perhaps "We are Children of God" would enable this line of thought to be explored.  More problematic is the gospel, though those wishing to explore an ANZAC theme might find this a useful starting point.  For all sorts of reasons I am going with "The Stubborn Persistence of Facts".

Introduction.  We open this week with an outrageously truncated version of one of the great stories from the Book of Acts.  So, while I do not usually advocate rebellion by those called upon to read a lesson, this is the time to make an exception.  This reading should begin at verse 1 and continue through to verse 22!  The nub, of course, is that the power demonstrated by the raising of Jesus from the dead has now been released into the world at large, demonstrated by the undeniable fact that a forty-year-old man who had been lame from birth was now displaying a gift for break-dancing good enough to get him a place on "Judea's Got Talent".  Our epistle reading follows on from last week, and is certainly no easier.  Perhaps this reading ought to be shortened: verses 16-18 may stun us so much that we become unable to hear the rest of it.  In short, what Christ has done for us, we are called to do for others.  Even if we are to understand "others" as limited to fellow Christians, we have a long, long way to go, haven't we?  After that reading, the gospel passage comes as something of a relief, as it appears to be only about Jesus – it seems to be far less specific and personal than the epistle.

Background.  Stories of the kind that we have in our reading from Acts this week always call to my mind some of my experiences in my former life as a parliamentary counsel.  One of my specialist areas in those days was health legislation, including the Medicines Bill and the Mental Health re-write.  It was while recalling some of these that the phrase "The Stubborn Persistence of Facts" popped into mind.

The Medicines Bill, of course, established the legislative framework for the importation, sale, prescription, dispensing and so on of medicines.  Much of this was dry, technical stuff, which made for difficult drafting, but did not suggest that we were in for much emotional excitement.  All that changed when the Bill got to the Select Committee when it attracted the ire of those who saw it as an attack on "alternative therapies and remedies".  The episode that stands out in my memory was one particular witness, a very calm lady, who was not going to be brushed off by any politician on the Committee.  She recounted her own experience, typical of many, of long periods of suffering, and many visits to many doctors, none of whom could identify the cause of her problem or offer any means of relief.  Finally, she had been persuaded by a friend to take an alternative remedy, and within a fortnight all her symptoms disappeared and had not returned.  She had returned to her GP, who had assured her that the there was no scientific ground for believing that the "remedy" had been of any use to her, and that he could only suggest that the "condition" had simply run its course.

One of the MP's challenged her.  "So you doubt the view of a highly trained and experienced doctor in this case, do you?"  The calm lady kept calm: "Not at all!  I merely pointed out to him that in my experience my headaches generally run their course after I have taken the pills he had recommended, and it had never occurred to me until then that that was mere coincidence!"

The second case was far more exciting.  During the Select Committee hearings on the Mental Health Bill the vexed question of electro-convulsive treatment came under scrutiny.  A senior psychiatrist gave evidence that he very rarely used it in the course of his practice, but would not support a legislative ban on its use because in a small number of cases it had proved very efficacious when nothing else had.  He then cited a particular case of a highly successful business man who had become seriously unwell to the point that he was barely able to function.  Medication had been tried but without success.  Finally, as a last resort, he had undergone ECT which had almost immediately restored him to good health.  When asked how it had worked, the psychiatrist admitted he had no idea, and he didn't think anyone else had either.

His evidence infuriated one of the MP's on the Committee so much that she twice had to be told by the Chairperson to control herself.  She then morphed into St Thomas: all this was mere hearsay.  Unless she saw the patient herself and heard his own testimony she would not accept the psychiatrist's evidence.  This was arranged, and the patient confirmed the psychiatrist's evidence in every respect.  Unlike the original St Thomas, the MP maintained her opposition.  During the discussions it appeared that her real worry was that if this sort of case "got around", it would boost the case for the continued use of ECT.  She could not deny that in this particular case this particular patient had been healed by the use of ECT, but she didn't want it widely known.

Which is exactly what is going on in the unexpurgated version of our story from Acts.  Something very similar was going on with the healing of the man born blind in John 9, and in the aftermath of Lazarus' return to life.  Above all, of course, it is what drives the cynics and disbelievers today to deny the fact of Jesus' resurrection, and to ridicule the idea of healing prayer.  Some of that cynicism is our fault: sometimes we claim too much, sometimes not enough.  When it happens, we should say so, when it doesn't we should do the same.  When asked awkward questions – how does it work, or why doesn't it always work – we should follow the lead of the psychiatrist and admit that we have no idea.  Perhaps one day we will.  In the meantime we can only acknowledge the stubborn persistence of facts.

Acts 4:(1-4) 5-12 (13-22).  We know (from last week) the story so far.  Peter and John had gone to the Temple, and outside the Beautiful Gate they had encountered a lame beggar who was hoping for a bit of coin from them.  Instead, in the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth they had commanded him to "stand up and walk".  To his own astonishment, and that of the onlookers, he had done just that, followed by his un-choreographed tour de force.  Peter had followed that up with some teaching, and now the heavy brigade had arrived on the scene.  Like ruling elites everywhere and always, they wanted to control the narrative, to shut down opposition voices, and generally to impose their version of events on everyone else.  Peter (now filled with the Holy Spirit) was not for turning.  Verse 9 displays a pleasing touch of light humour ("are we really, like, being taken to task for, like, doing a good deed to someone who, like, was sick?  How uncool is that!").  But then he gets serious and spells out our faith in one sentence (verse 12).  Verses 13 and 14 are pure gold, too.  On the one hand, a couple of country yokels, on the other this guy who won't stop dancing and carrying on!  What's to be said?  Verse 16 spells out the dilemma.  The rulers resorted to what they always do in such cases – threats.  To no avail.  Torture is not an option in the presence of crowds.  And denial is not an option in the presence of the cured patient: the stubborn persistence of facts wins again!

Taking It Personally.

·        Complete the following sentence: "I believe Jesus was raised to life from death, and my evidence for that belief is...

·        Have you ever been anaesthetised before undergoing surgery?  Are you aware that medical science is not sure how anaesthetics work?  Does that make any difference to your understanding of what happened to you?  If you need anaesthesia in the future, will you demand a convincing explanation of how it works before giving your consent?

·        Do you pray for healing for individuals known to you?  Why or why not?  Have you ever asked for such prayer for yourself?  Why or why not?

·        Read slowly through the whole passage – verses 1-22.  How does it strike you?  Does it ring true?  Which bits (if any) sound far-fetched to you?

·        Can you recall an occasion when you own preconceptions have been challenged by the stubborn persistence of facts?  Are you in general open to new revelations, ideas, and understandings?

 

1 John 3:16-24.  We often think of John as the Apostle of Love, a man of advanced age, who keeps muttering platitudes, and is unfailingly sweet and kind to everyone.  That is, we might think of him that way if we don't spend more than a minute or two actually reading some of his teaching, including today's passage.  Although I have suggested that verses 16-18 might be quite enough for one meal, those who are really hungry could try verses 14-15 as an entree.  We usually think of James as the chief advocate for the "social gospel", but John gives us the same message.  Verse 17 was tough enough before the advent of television, videos and all the other things that enable us "to see a brother or sister in need" anywhere in the world.  Today, our blindness can only be wilful.  Well then, do our hearts (we would say our consciences) condemn us or not?

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Clearly a classic passage for a spiritual stock-take.  Go slowly through the reading:  which verse do you find personally most challenging?  What are you being called to do differently?

·        Consider the Church as a whole in the light of verse 17.  What is the Church as a whole being called to do differently?

·        Do passages such as this affect the way you vote?  Should they?

·        Are you sure that the Spirit is abiding in you?  How is that manifested in your life at present?

 

John 10:11-18.  It is unfortunate that the gospel passage comes this year on the day following ANZAC Day as it increases the temptation to use it (or its even more tempting counterpart in 15:13) in reference to those who lost their lives in war service.  Verse 18 of this week's passage should be enough to lead us away from this particular error, but it has often proved ineffectual in the past.  In my view such an approach, well-meant though it undoubtedly is, fails to honour those who were killed.  They did not voluntarily lay down their lives – they were killed (against their will) by the brutal horrors that go with war, including disease, accident and sheer bad luck, as well as the deliberate intent of those they considered their enemies.  One of the great ironies of our Gallipoli commemorations is that they take place in Turkey, the very place we were illegally invading.  Perhaps, if we must use readings from the gospels on such occasions, we should go for Matthew 5:43-48, and accept in all humility that our Turkish hosts have much to teach us on this text.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Focus on verse 13.  Call to mind Peter in the High Priest's garden, and the fact that all the other disciples ran away.  Why did they act like hired hands?

·        In this context are you more of a hired hand or a faithful shepherd?

·        Do you find the shepherd/sheep analogy helpful or unhelpful?  Why?

·        Reflect on verses 17 and 18.  Is the emphasis on "voluntary surrender" compatible with Peter's accusatory tone in his "early sermons" in Acts?  What might be the point the Fourth Evangelist is trying to make here?

·        In what way, if any, do you feel called to lay down your life for others?

Third Sunday of Easter

 

 

April 19                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Third Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 3:12-19; 1 John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36b-48*

[*Hopefully these are the right readings.  Last week, after sending the Notes off on Thursday as usual, I received from the Diocesan Office notice the next day that the reading from Acts in the Lectionary was wrong.  It was fortunate in a way, because if there is any passage in Scripture more foreign to our own present-day reality than Acts 4:32-35 I can't immediately think what it is.]

Theme:  We're rather spoilt for choice this week, with two great stories and a relatively lucid passage of John's First Letter.  It's hard to go past "In the Breaking of the Bread", or some variation along those lines.  But if the reading from Acts captures your imagination, there are a whole number of possibilities: "As the Master, So the Servants"; "The Power of the Resurrection": or (my personal choice) "Speaking the Truth".  The first part of our epistle reading suggests something like "Becoming Evermore Like Christ"; or "Looking into Our Future".  The second part suggests that you don't base your theme on it.

Introduction.  We start with the second "sermon" we have in the Book of Acts.  Peter's basic approach remains unchanged: he tells it as it is to people as they are.  Populism has not yet invaded the Church.  St John starts off in his "kindly old grandfather" tone, marvelling at the goodness and love of God and how we are all God's beloved children; but suddenly in verses 4-7 he shows another side of his character – either naive or mongrel, depending on how you read these few verses.  We finish with the glorious but rather contrived conclusion to the story set on the Road to Emmaus.

Background.  I am becoming increasingly alarmed by Pope Francis.  If he manages to hang around much longer I might be in danger of concluding that the Reformation was a terrible mistake and we should all head back to Rome as fast as possible!  Quite how the Holy Spirit was able to lead the College of Cardinals to choose such a Christ-like man to sit on the throne of St Peter I have no idea; but it does help to put the so-called miracles in the gospels and the Book of Acts into some sort of perspective – in fact, it makes some of them seem almost mundane by comparison.  How could it be that a group of elderly men from various parts of the world, many chosen by such well-known conservatives as Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, elects a man who believes that it is possible to be Pope without wearing hand-made red slippers and without living in a virtual palace?  A man who, immediately following his election, rides on a bus back to his hotel and pays his own hotel bill?  A man who believes that the Vatican Bank should conduct its business ethically and honestly?  A man who believes that Moslem female feet are just as worthy to be washed as those of a Cardinal?  A man who not only lives out the teachings of Christ in his own life and ministry, but also expects his fellow bishops and priests to do the same?  Since when has gross self-indulgence by clergy been a sackable offence?

But above all these things, it seems to me, what most gives this remarkable man the authentic stamp of Christ is his habit of speaking the truth.  Just before Christmas (as I commented in these Notes a few weeks ago) Pope Francis gave a break-up office party speech like no other to the members of the Curia - not in a carefully nuanced formal document, but face to face straight from the lip and hip.  Sir Graham Henry (or for soccer fans, Sir Alec Ferguson) could not have been more direct in telling his team to lift their game.

But in-house stuff is one thing.  This week Pope Francis took his truth-speaking outside, naming the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of Armenians by the fast collapsing Ottoman Empire as the first act of genocide of the 20^th century.  As the victims were victimized on grounds of race (and religion), it is hard to know what other word would do ("ethnic-cleansing" is a possibility, I guess).  Predictably, Turkey threw a hissy fit, called the Pope all sorts of rude words, and withdrew its Ambassador to the Holy See.  That would not have surprised the Pope: if he had told the Vatican diplomatic team what he was going to say they would have begged him not to, not because it was untrue, but because it was undiplomatic.  It could even (perish the thought) damage trade!

Meanwhile a very brief news item caught my ear on the radio on Monday, only to disappear without trace.  Someone asked our Prime Minister if he thought the time had come when New Zealand should apologise to Turkey for invading their country 100 years ago.  Without a moment's thought the Prime Minister said "no".  No surprise there, but the fact that someone thought fit to ask that question was an interesting, particularly as it again featured Turkey, this time not as the aggressor but as the victim.  Far more Turkish soldiers died defending their land than the invading forces (including our troops) died in attacking them.  Does that not deserve even a moment's thought – if not an apology?

Peter – like his latest and very worthy successor, Francis – will never be recognised as a man of great diplomacy, although he did weaken a bit and throw them a sop in verse 17.  (Conversely, Paul showed great diplomatic skills in Athens - Acts 17:16-32 – but, of course, spoilt it all at the end by lapsing into speaking the truth about resurrection.)  His only excuse is that he learned from the Master.  (Years ago I realised just how blunt Jesus was when I heard a marvellous priest who hailed from Burnley in Lancashire reading from chapter 23:13 onwards of Matthew's gospel: I tell you, if you have a friend with a broad Lancashire accent, ask him to read that passage to you and you will never think of Jesus as meek and mild again!)

Of course, we know better than that today.  Threatened by falling numbers, dropping revenues, and all the resulting problems of gaps on our lawn-mowing and church-cleaning rosters, we seek to be ever-more diplomatic to avoid giving offence to anyone inside or outside the Church.  After all, didn't St Paul say we are called to be Ambassadors for Christ?  Perhaps Pope Francis needs to give that a moment's thought.

Acts 3:12-19.  If we didn't already know that the author of St Luke's gospel is also the author of the Book of Acts this particular story (beginning at verse 1) should be enough to convince us.  It is beautifully told, with all the characteristics we expect to find in a Lukan story.  Notice the details he gives us, which are not essential to the story itself, but are Luke's way of telling us that this is no parable or fairy story – this stuff actually happened.  He tells us the precise time (3.00pm): he tells us a lot about one of the central characters in the story – he was not just a beggar, or a lame beggar, but one who had been lame from birth, and who was regularly carried to a prime begging spot at the Beautiful Gate.  Then comes a detailed account of the encounter between this man and Peter and John.  There is much eyeballing between the three of them, before they get down to business.  And what a business it is!  There is something far more valuable in this world than money!  (Who'd have thought?)  And the whole drama is written out in a way that is clearly intended to remind us of Jesus' healing of the paralytic.  Complete with the astonished crowd.  The only difference is the impromptu choreography – everyone (with the probable exception of Peter and John) are dancing, leaping and running.  Fishermen – even ex-fishermen – don't dance, at least in public.  What they are good at is recognising a shoal when they see one and knowing how to make a good catch.  (Think Mark 1:17 here).  And as in his first "sermon", Peter does not use subtlety and patience – he's no fly-fisherman : he whacks them with the cudgel of Truth.  Terrible diplomacy but great preaching!  Of course, it got him arrested – but it got the Church about 5,000 new members (Acts 4:4)!  (Who'd have thought?)

Taking It Personally.

·        Read through the whole story (3:1-4:4) slowly.  Notice the mix of action and teaching, so common in the gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry.  How do your feelings change as you work though the narrative?  What word, phrase or line sticks in your memory?

·        If you're a visual person, spend time imagining the scene.  What is your impression of the beggar as he "lies in wait" for Peter and John?  How do they look at him?  Now watch as the newly-healed man goes bananas.  Can you feel his joy?

·        Are you interested in Peter's "explanation", or do you find it dry and boring after the "main event".

·        Imagine John and Peter coming towards you now.  What would you seek from them?

 

1 John 3:1-7.  This is quite a dense passage, full of deep truth.  The author is struck by the incredible thought that God has adopted us (as Paul would put it), making us his children.  That is wondrous enough.  But, of course, children grow up, and as we do it often happens that we come to look more like our parents than we did in infancy or childhood.  Perhaps that thought is behind the early verses of this passage.  The point is that the Christian life is not static – it is one of growth, which means that we are not yet what we finally will be.  What we will be is a unique manifestation of God's incarnation.  So far, so wonderful.  But then comes the dark side.  Verse 6 is about as scary as Scripture gets.  Well, actually verses 8-10 are just as scary, but fortunately we are spared these for now.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Find some old photographs of yourself.  Can you see any resemblance between you and either of your parents, or some other close relative?  Now look in a mirror: have you become more like any of those people over the intervening years?

·        Have you become more like God (Christ) over those years?

·        Use verses 4-7 to guide a period of self-examination and reflection.

 

Luke 24:36-48.  Sad to say, this story, full of deep theological insight though it is, is, for me, one of the least convincing of the Easter stories.  It seems to lack the raw authenticity of the others.  In contrast to our reading from the Book of Acts, we might note in particular none of the "hard" detail of that other passage.  The attempt at comedic drama (Shakespeare would have done it so much better) doesn't quite work for me.  Recognising Jesus in the breaking of the bread is helpful confirmation that, by the date of this gospel (say, 70-80 AD) the ritual of Holy Communion was well-established in the various nascent Christian communities, but the "recognition" of the sacramental presence of Christ is all-too contrived to be convincing as an actual account.  Similarly, Luke's "amended" version of the Risen Christ appearing among the Eleven in the locked room smacks of "planted evidence".  He is trying too hard to establish that Jesus really was there and his body really was real by having the Risen Christ eat fish.  For my money that detail ruins the story as told in John's gospel, which we had last week.  As for the repetition of the importance of understanding how Jesus fulfils the Scriptures, again this is Luke the lecturer rather than Luke the marvellous  storyteller.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Do you agree or disagree with "my review" of this passage?  Why?

·        How real for you is the sacramental presence of Jesus in the Eucharistic bread?  Do you "feel" the reality of it, or is it more in your mind and understanding?  Or neither?

·        Of what things, then, are you a witness – and to whom?

·        As we move on next week from the Appearances, which of them do you find most convincing?  How would you explain your belief in the resurrection of Jesus to an interested but unconvinced friend? 

Third Sunday of Easter

April 19                       NOTES FOR REFLECTION             Third Sunday of Easter

Texts: Acts 3:12-19; 1 John 3:1-7; Luke 24:36b-48*

[*Hopefully these are the right readings.  Last week, after sending the Notes off on Thursday as usual, I received from the Diocesan Office notice the next day that the reading from Acts in the Lectionary was wrong.  It was fortunate in a way, because if there is any passage in Scripture more foreign to our own present-day reality than Acts 4:32-35 I can't immediately think what it is.]

Theme:  We're rather spoilt for choice this week, with two great stories and a relatively lucid passage of John's First Letter.  It's hard to go past "In the Breaking of the Bread", or some variation along those lines.  But if the reading from Acts captures your imagination, there are a whole number of possibilities: "As the Master, So the Servants"; "The Power of the Resurrection": or (my personal choice) "Speaking the Truth".  The first part of our epistle reading suggests something like "Becoming Evermore Like Christ"; or "Looking into Our Future".  The second part suggests that you don't base your theme on it.

Introduction.  We start with the second "sermon" we have in the Book of Acts.  Peter's basic approach remains unchanged: he tells it as it is to people as they are.  Populism has not yet invaded the Church.  St John starts off in his "kindly old grandfather" tone, marvelling at the goodness and love of God and how we are all God's beloved children; but suddenly in verses 4-7 he shows another side of his character – either naive or mongrel, depending on how you read these few verses.  We finish with the glorious but rather contrived conclusion to the story set on the Road to Emmaus.

Background.  I am becoming increasingly alarmed by Pope Francis.  If he manages to hang around much longer I might be in danger of concluding that the Reformation was a terrible mistake and we should all head back to Rome as fast as possible!  Quite how the Holy Spirit was able to lead the College of Cardinals to choose such a Christ-like man to sit on the throne of St Peter I have no idea; but it does help to put the so-called miracles in the gospels and the Book of Acts into some sort of perspective – in fact, it makes some of them seem almost mundane by comparison.  How could it be that a group of elderly men from various parts of the world, many chosen by such well-known conservatives as Pope John Paul II and Pope Benedict XVI, elects a man who believes that it is possible to be Pope without wearing hand-made red slippers and without living in a virtual palace?  A man who, immediately following his election, rides on a bus back to his hotel and pays his own hotel bill?  A man who believes that the Vatican Bank should conduct its business ethically and honestly?  A man who believes that Moslem female feet are just as worthy to be washed as those of a Cardinal?  A man who not only lives out the teachings of Christ in his own life and ministry, but also expects his fellow bishops and priests to do the same?  Since when has gross self-indulgence by clergy been a sackable offence?

But above all these things, it seems to me, what most gives this remarkable man the authentic stamp of Christ is his habit of speaking the truth.  Just before Christmas (as I commented in these Notes a few weeks ago) Pope Francis gave a break-up office party speech like no other to the members of the Curia - not in a carefully nuanced formal document, but face to face straight from the lip and hip.  Sir Graham Henry (or for soccer fans, Sir Alec Ferguson) could not have been more direct in telling his team to lift their game.

But in-house stuff is one thing.  This week Pope Francis took his truth-speaking outside, naming the slaughter of hundreds of thousands of Armenians by the fast collapsing Ottoman Empire as the first act of genocide of the 20^th century.  As the victims were victimized on grounds of race (and religion), it is hard to know what other word would do ("ethnic-cleansing" is a possibility, I guess).  Predictably, Turkey threw a hissy fit, called the Pope all sorts of rude words, and withdrew its Ambassador to the Holy See.  That would not have surprised the Pope: if he had told the Vatican diplomatic team what he was going to say they would have begged him not to, not because it was untrue, but because it was undiplomatic.  It could even (perish the thought) damage trade!

Meanwhile a very brief news item caught my ear on the radio on Monday, only to disappear without trace.  Someone asked our Prime Minister if he thought the time had come when New Zealand should apologise to Turkey for invading their country 100 years ago.  Without a moment's thought the Prime Minister said "no".  No surprise there, but the fact that someone thought fit to ask that question was an interesting, particularly as it again featured Turkey, this time not as the aggressor but as the victim.  Far more Turkish soldiers died defending their land than the invading forces (including our troops) died in attacking them.  Does that not deserve even a moment's thought – if not an apology?

Peter – like his latest and very worthy successor, Francis – will never be recognised as a man of great diplomacy, although he did weaken a bit and throw them a sop in verse 17.  (Conversely, Paul showed great diplomatic skills in Athens - Acts 17:16-32 – but, of course, spoilt it all at the end by lapsing into speaking the truth about resurrection.)  His only excuse is that he learned from the Master.  (Years ago I realised just how blunt Jesus was when I heard a marvellous priest who hailed from Burnley in Lancashire reading from chapter 23:13 onwards of Matthew's gospel: I tell you, if you have a friend with a broad Lancashire accent, ask him to read that passage to you and you will never think of Jesus as meek and mild again!)

Of course, we know better than that today.  Threatened by falling numbers, dropping revenues, and all the resulting problems of gaps on our lawn-mowing and church-cleaning rosters, we seek to be ever-more diplomatic to avoid giving offence to anyone inside or outside the Church.  After all, didn't St Paul say we are called to be Ambassadors for Christ?  Perhaps Pope Francis needs to give that a moment's thought.

Acts 3:12-19.  If we didn't already know that the author of St Luke's gospel is also the author of the Book of Acts this particular story (beginning at verse 1) should be enough to convince us.  It is beautifully told, with all the characteristics we expect to find in a Lukan story.  Notice the details he gives us, which are not essential to the story itself, but are Luke's way of telling us that this is no parable or fairy story – this stuff actually happened.  He tells us the precise time (3.00pm): he tells us a lot about one of the central characters in the story – he was not just a beggar, or a lame beggar, but one who had been lame from birth, and who was regularly carried to a prime begging spot at the Beautiful Gate.  Then comes a detailed account of the encounter between this man and Peter and John.  There is much eyeballing between the three of them, before they get down to business.  And what a business it is!  There is something far more valuable in this world than money!  (Who'd have thought?)  And the whole drama is written out in a way that is clearly intended to remind us of Jesus' healing of the paralytic.  Complete with the astonished crowd.  The only difference is the impromptu choreography – everyone (with the probable exception of Peter and John) are dancing, leaping and running.  Fishermen – even ex-fishermen – don't dance, at least in public.  What they are good at is recognising a shoal when they see one and knowing how to make a good catch.  (Think Mark 1:17 here).  And as in his first "sermon", Peter does not use subtlety and patience – he's no fly-fisherman : he whacks them with the cudgel of Truth.  Terrible diplomacy but great preaching!  Of course, it got him arrested – but it got the Church about 5,000 new members (Acts 4:4)!  (Who'd have thought?)

Taking It Personally.

·        Read through the whole story (3:1-4:4) slowly.  Notice the mix of action and teaching, so common in the gospel accounts of Jesus' ministry.  How do your feelings change as you work though the narrative?  What word, phrase or line sticks in your memory?

·        If you're a visual person, spend time imagining the scene.  What is your impression of the beggar as he "lies in wait" for Peter and John?  How do they look at him?  Now watch as the newly-healed man goes bananas.  Can you feel his joy?

·        Are you interested in Peter's "explanation", or do you find it dry and boring after the "main event".

·        Imagine John and Peter coming towards you now.  What would you seek from them?

 

1 John 3:1-7.  This is quite a dense passage, full of deep truth.  The author is struck by the incredible thought that God has adopted us (as Paul would put it), making us his children.  That is wondrous enough.  But, of course, children grow up, and as we do it often happens that we come to look more like our parents than we did in infancy or childhood.  Perhaps that thought is behind the early verses of this passage.  The point is that the Christian life is not static – it is one of growth, which means that we are not yet what we finally will be.  What we will be is a unique manifestation of God's incarnation.  So far, so wonderful.  But then comes the dark side.  Verse 6 is about as scary as Scripture gets.  Well, actually verses 8-10 are just as scary, but fortunately we are spared these for now.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Find some old photographs of yourself.  Can you see any resemblance between you and either of your parents, or some other close relative?  Now look in a mirror: have you become more like any of those people over the intervening years?

·        Have you become more like God (Christ) over those years?

·        Use verses 4-7 to guide a period of self-examination and reflection.

 

Luke 24:36-48.  Sad to say, this story, full of deep theological insight though it is, is, for me, one of the least convincing of the Easter stories.  It seems to lack the raw authenticity of the others.  In contrast to our reading from the Book of Acts, we might note in particular none of the "hard" detail of that other passage.  The attempt at comedic drama (Shakespeare would have done it so much better) doesn't quite work for me.  Recognising Jesus in the breaking of the bread is helpful confirmation that, by the date of this gospel (say, 70-80 AD) the ritual of Holy Communion was well-established in the various nascent Christian communities, but the "recognition" of the sacramental presence of Christ is all-too contrived to be convincing as an actual account.  Similarly, Luke's "amended" version of the Risen Christ appearing among the Eleven in the locked room smacks of "planted evidence".  He is trying too hard to establish that Jesus really was there and his body really was real by having the Risen Christ eat fish.  For my money that detail ruins the story as told in John's gospel, which we had last week.  As for the repetition of the importance of understanding how Jesus fulfils the Scriptures, again this is Luke the lecturer rather than Luke the marvellous  storyteller.

 

Taking It Personally.

 

·        Do you agree or disagree with "my review" of this passage?  Why?

·        How real for you is the sacramental presence of Jesus in the Eucharistic bread?  Do you "feel" the reality of it, or is it more in your mind and understanding?  Or neither?

·        Of what things, then, are you a witness – and to whom?

·        As we move on next week from the Appearances, which of them do you find most convincing?  How would you explain your belief in the resurrection of Jesus to an interested but unconvinced friend?