The Third Sunday of Easter, Year C

Do You Love Jesus?

Readings: Acts 9:1-20; Psalm 30:4-12; Rev 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

The common thread through the readings today is our encounter with God. How do we experience the risen Christ in our lives?

The first one, whose encounter is recalled, is Saul. We later know him as Paul. It is hard to imagine an angrier or more threatening person than he. He was very much opposed to the fledgling faith. He had the authority to persecute those who followed the risen Christ. He was single minded in his mission.

That is, until the day he was travelling to Damascus. He saw a bright light. He heard a voice. He fell to the ground. "Why are you persecuting me?" the voice demanded. He asked who it was, but in his heart he knew. As far as Saul was concerned, Jesus of Nazareth was dead. And good riddance to him! But on hearing the voice, he could not help but realize the life-bond that exists between Jesus and those who follow him.

It was a turning point for him, in Greek, μετανοια. It means literally turning around, doing an about face. We would call it conversion. There in the dust of the road, blinded by the brilliance of the light, he encountered the risen Lord. He realized how Christ identifies with us. He got up, and though his eyes were open, he could see nothing for the next three days. Three days of physical blindness, but what is that after a lifetime of spiritual blindness? And it was followed by a different kind of seeing, not sight, but insight, which brought him into a new relationship with God. He began a new life of witness to the risen Christ he had so vehemently persecuted. He began to preach the word of God as strongly as he had once preached against it. He focused his anger, energy, vehemence, single-mindedness on God.

Then in the Gospel we hear of another encounter, this time between the risen Christ and Peter.

"I'm going fishing," Peter says.

"We'll go with you," say the others. Boats, nets, business as usual! Do you suppose they are trying return to normalcy, to their former way of life after the terrifying events of the past few days? Who could blame them? Yet it is not what Jesus had in mind.

They got into the boat, but that night they caught nothing. Not one fish all night long. Just after daybreak, they saw someone on the beach. Not that they recognized him. He told them to cast the net on the other side of the boat. What did they have to lose! They did as he had suggested. And suddenly they were swamped with fish. One hundred and fifty three of them! It was then that Peter recognized Jesus. In his excitement he jumped into the water to get to Jesus faster.

But the encounter wasn't over. In fact, the real encounter had not yet begun. Peter was not ready to take on the responsibility of carrying on Jesus' work. He was still reeling from the events of the past few days. He had betrayed Jesus. He had run away. What's more, there was some unfinished business. There was an unfinished conversation.

Jesus had not forgotten. He picked up the conversation just where he had left off. "Do you love me, Peter?" It must have startled him.

"You know I do."

"Then feed my sheep," Jesus tells him. Then he asks him again. Is this some kind of bad dream? And then a third time Jesus asks him the same question. And finally it sinks in to Peter's brain. What has held him back from following Jesus to the cross? If he loves Jesus, then of course it follows. He must feed the sheep. He must continue the work that Jesus began. It must not come to an end. The work, he began to realize was just beginning.

All of the stories are about turning points. We all have them. When I was making a big change in my life, preparing to leave teaching and go back to school to study theology, a good friend gave me a lovely gift, a beautiful cut glass swan. “You need markers to help remember the important times in your life,” she told me. It was a wonderful thing for her to do, but I couldn’t help reflecting on my own that I already had markers in my life. There was my baptism when my parents and sponsors made promises for me. The sign of the cross left its mark on my forehead. Water and light became symbols of my emerging faith.

Then at Confirmation I undertook those promises for myself. The laying on of hands by the Bishop imprinted that faith in my life.

Then there are the times in my life when I recognized the risen Christ. For me, there was no earth shattering, transformative moment. Instead there were constant turning points, aha moments, when I grew in faith.

If we look back at our lives we can all find such turning points, such markers. They may not be life shattering. They may not even seem important now. We may feel almost embarrassed about them. But they are important, for they are spiritual landmarks that set us apart as Christians. They mark our lives. They help us to frame our life of faith. Sometimes we experience one powerful event, which changes us dramatically. More often, it is a series of events, some that we scarcely remember. Both experiences of conversion are authentic. Both experiences are part of our life journey.

What does it mean to be a Christian? It is important to find opportunities to explore and witness to how Christ is working in our lives. It is important to witness to the power of the resurrection. We all have faith stories. They are important in our lives. They emerge out of our every day experiences. Because they are so personal, it is a real privilege to be invited to share in the stories of other people. We need to hear how others have struggled with faith. For it is part of our Christian journey. It is part of our communal experience.

For all of us it was a journey, and what we most needed on that journey was the companionship of other people. We needed that sense of community. It is most likely why you stay connected to this community of faith.

“Do you love me? Jesus asked Peter. He asks that same question of you and me. How do we answer it? We may identify with Paul whose encounter on the Damascus Road was earth shattering. Or we may identify with Peter's slow and steady response. But our experience is unlikely to be like any other. It doesn't need to be as long as our response is the same. Paul encountered Christ and went on to preach the gospel to the Gentiles. Peter became the rock on which the Church was built. The disciples got up from breakfast and began spread the gospel. The heart of the matter lies in our response to that eternal question, "Do you love me?" For if you love Jesus then you must feed the sheep.

The Second Sunday of Easter
Year C

Opening Locked Doors

Readings: Acts 5:27-32; Psalm 2; Revelation 1:4-8; John 20:19-31

It is evening on the first day of the week. The disciples are huddled behind locked doors. After the death of their beloved leader they are naturally fearful. Jesus’ death had changed everything. Their hopes and dreams had been shattered. They feared for their lives. They had seen their leader cruelly executed. They lived in fear of the consequences of being a follower of Jesus. And so they locked the doors.

Are there doors that we lock for fear? Are there issues that are simply too painful for the Church to look at? Do we close our minds to change because we fear what it will mean in our lives? Does fear keep us from being totally committed to the message of the Gospel? We do not live in a perfect world. We are faced every day with inequities. There are problems we cannot solve. There are situations that seem insurmountable. There are injustices. There are tragedies that cry out for an explanation. There are conflicts that we cannot handle. Sometimes it seems easier and more prudent to huddle behind locked doors.

The disciples did not remain frozen in their fear. They unlocked the doors. They went back out into that same world. They faced those same authorities. They went out preaching and teaching in Jesus’ name. They did it with fervour and commitment. Even jail could not hold them back. “We must obey God rather than humanity,” they declared to the same people in fear of whom they had locked the doors.

What empowered them to unlock the doors? What made them willing to live dangerously for their faith? It had to be more than the hope of winning some nebulous crown in another dimension. Their whole outlook changed. Your whole perspective does not shift without a momentous reason. For them to joyfully risk their lives, to endure beatings and imprisonment for the sake of the Gospel, something unimaginable had to have taken place. They were committed. They were totally and utterly convinced of their cause, and equally convinced of the blindness of those around them.

There is only one possible answer to the change. Nothing, not a lock on a door, not the grave, not their betrayal of him, could keep Jesus from coming. He came and stood amongst them, offering peace, offering hope. And it changed them.

“We have seen the Lord,” they said to Thomas. When you have seen the One you thought you was gone forever, standing before you in all of his risen glory, when you are convinced that the power of death is overcome, then everything changes.

Notice that it didn’t change for Thomas, at least not right away! “If I could see, I would believe!” he tells them. He just cannot see the signs of resurrection. In his deep pain and anguish he cannot see that he has missed something. Something has changed. The disciples have been empowered. He cannot see through his sorrow to the hope in their words. He cannot experience the peace that Jesus has brought.

How like Thomas we are! If only I could see, then I would believe. Prove to me that God is alive. Where can I see resurrection in this world in which I live? I see only death.

There is a sweet ad. I cannot even tell you what it is for. In it, a young boy is hitting a ball with a bat. He says, “I’m the greatest hitter in the world!” and then misses totally. Finally after several tries he picks up the ball once more and proclaims, “I’m the greatest pitcher in the world.” Think back to your own childhood. Consider what you believed. As children we were able to believe the impossible. That ability disappeared as we were taught that the world of imagination is not true. Faith requires that we will ourselves not to disbelieve, that we naively recapture the sense of wonder that we had as children.

Perhaps it is easier to do if we consider some words of Aristotle. “That which is impossible and probable is better than that which is possible and improbable.”

Magic is possible, but it is certainly improbable. We have all watched with amazement as a skilful magician works his magic. Our eyes tell us to believe. We want to believe. We know that it is a trick. We try to figure out how it is done, but underneath it all we just want to believe in the magic. We know that things are not as they appear to be.

We live in an age where impossible things become reality every day. Growing up, Saturday afternoon meant a trip to the movies. When the feature was over we would sit mesmerized by a serial. They would show a new segment of a science fiction film about space travel. It seemed far beyond the realm of possibility. Rocket ships! Moon landings! Visiting other planets! Yet not many years later, I listened on the radio as the first people walked on the surface of the moon.

Resurrection on the other hand is impossible; but in the light of the reaction of the disciples it is also probable. If we are a people of the resurrection, then we must live as an Easter people. That may mean a change in our direction. It may mean unlocking the doors that hold us back in our fear. It may mean advocating for justice. It may mean taking a committed stand against society.

It is a standing joke about the Miss World Beauty Pageant as every contestant is asked what their hope is and all make the same reply, “World peace!” But I suspect that if I asked each of you this morning what you hope for that at least somewhere in your first few responses, world peace would appear.

We long for peace and harmony in our world. We hear on the news of terrorist acts and we long for peace. We hear of North Korea arming itself and we long for peace. We hear of young people being shot on our city streets and we long for peace. We hear of family violence and we long for peace. We deal with conflict in our personal lives and we long for peace.

And there is Jesus in the midst of us, wounded hands extended, offering peace. In that gesture, offered to us in the same way it was offered to the first disciples of Christ, we recognize and accept God’s love for us. We accept in faith the teaching of the apostles and their proclamation that they “have seen the risen Lord.” Then we allow God’s gracious Spirit, the peace he came to bring, to fill, energize and propel us toward a committal of all we are and have. Then we will know and experience the power of the resurrected Lord in our lives. We too will proclaim, “Alleluia! Christ is risen!”

Easter Sunday, Year C

It’s Just Too Good!

Readings: Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118:14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Luke 24:1-12

The women got up early and headed for the tomb. They went despite their fear and apprehension at all that had taken place over the last three days. They were filled with disappointment at what might have been. They were filled with grief over the death of the one they had come to love and trust. Others had run away in fear and confusion: but they were drawn to the tomb. They had some unfinished business. Because of the approach of the Sabbath, Jesus’ body had not been properly prepared for burial. They came bringing spice prepared for that purpose.

They knew what to expect. They had stood at the foot of the cross while others simply fled. They had watched as the life ebbed out of Jesus. When you watch someone die, the reality of death stays with you. They had received his body when the soldiers took him down from the cross. They had lovingly laid him in the tomb and watched, dumbfounded as a huge stone was rolled into place. And yet, they could not help but feel that this dead man was more alive than all of them put together.

And our God is a God of surprises! When the women arrived at the tomb they saw that stone was rolled away. When they entered the tomb Jesus’ body was nowhere to be found. The tomb was empty.

“Why look for the living among the dead?” they were asked. “Why, indeed! He is not in the tomb! He is risen!

And they believed it. They remembered what Jesus had told them. They did not just believe it. What they believed, they proclaimed. They went and told the others. “Christ is risen!” they proclaimed. And two thousand years later we still echo those words.

In the 1920’s Nikolai Bukharin was sent from Moscow to Kiev to address and anti-God rally. For an hour he ridiculed the Christian faith until it seemed that there was nothing left to believe. Then he invited the people to ask questions. An Orthodox priest rose and asked to speak. He turned, faced the people, and gave the Easter greeting, “Christ is risen!”

What do you suppose happened? All the people rose to their feel. “He is risen indeed! Alleluia!” they replied, loud and clear.
Belief in the resurrection is the greatest sign that it happened. The women at the tomb saw and believed. It cannot have been easy for them. Faith in the resurrection was risky business for the early Christians. People gossiped about and plotted against those who believed that Jesus rose from the dead. The idea was so absurd and laughable that Christians were ridiculed and shunned, even persecuted for their beliefs. But that did not stop the faithful from spreading the message that Christ indeed was risen from the dead.

It has not stopped in over two thousand years. When asked, ‘What do you believe?’, Christians still respond, ‘Christ is risen!’ Though today we live in a world that is often indifferent to faith it is still possible to proclaim, “Christ is risen”, and have millions of people all over the globe respond, “He is risen indeed! Alleluia!”

What you say yourself in reply to the question is a choise you must make. You can argue with me and say that you cannot believe because there is not enough evidence, but we believe because we take it on very good authority.

One of my favourite writers, C. S. Lewis, writes the following in his book, The Case for Christianity. “Don't be scared by the word authority. Believing things on authority only means believing them because you've been told them by someone you think trustworthy. Ninety-nine per cent of the things you believe are believed on authority. I believe there is such a place as New York. I haven't seen it myself. I couldn't prove by abstract reasoning that there must be such a place. I believe it because reliable people have told me so. The ordinary man believes in the Solar System, atoms, evolution, and the circulation of the blood on authority -because the scientists say so. Every historical statement in the world is believed on authority. None of us has seen the Norman Conquest or the defeat of the Armada. None of us could prove them by pure logic as you prove a thing in mathematics. We believe them simply because people who did see them have left writings that tell us about them: in fact, on authority. A man who jibbed at authority in other things as some people do in religion would have to be content to know nothing all his life.”

And if it seems to good to be true, look for the signs of resurrection around you. Like the women on that first Easter morning, we frequently find ourselves heading into the tomb, to places and circumstances where we expect to find only death. It is truly difficult to believe in the resurrection when all around us we are experiencing death. There are the environmental issues that the world faces. Is our planet facing extinction? Many people seem to thing we cannot possibly do anything about it. We must simply learn to cope with environmental changes. We need to prepare ourselves better for the natural disasters, which are inevitable.

Do not assume death in any situation. Expect the possibility that God has been here before you. Even a small rolling away of stones indicates resurrection. People are becoming more aware of the need for stewardship of our resources, of their need to conserve God’s amazing creation.

Are there signs of Resurrection in this community of faith? There certainly are! For over a year, this congregation has been without a permanent priest. Yet it has been a time of spiritual growth and renewed excitement for the faith. There is a dedicated leadership that works hard on behalf of this congregation. So many people participate in the life of the parish. There is a strong sense of community. You are meeting your financial obligations. You are welcoming new people into the community.

Are there signs of Resurrection in your personal lives? Is God taking you in new directions? Look at what God is doing in your life! Look at where God is leading you!

At the heart of the resurrection is the one who participated in it, who died for it, and who, in a way we will never understand and must accept in faith, moved through death to us to build the kingdom of God in our own lives and in our society and time.

And if the message of Easter is simply too overwhelming to believe consider this story.

A young boy was an avid fan of both Captain Kangaroo and Mister Rogers. He watched both of their television shows. Then one day it was announced that Mister Rogers would be making a guest appearance on Captain Kangaroo. The little boy was ecstatic. He could hardly wait. He kept asking, “Is it today that Mister Rogers will be on Captain Kangaroo?”

Finally the day arrived. The family all gathered around the television. The boy watched for a time and then surprisingly got up and wandered from the room. His father was puzzled. He followed him and asked, “What is it? Is something wrong?”

“It’s too good,” the boy replied. “It’s just too good!”

Jesus is not in the tomb. He is risen from the dead. That is the Easter message. And it is too good!

Christ is risen, Alleluia! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
I

The Great Vigil of Easter

Some Resurrection Images

Readings: Romans 6:3-11; Luke 24:1-12

The Easter Vigil celebration is not truly the proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection. Rather it prepares us to experience the empty tomb. Resurrection remains a mystery at the heart of our lives. It is such a mystery that we find it difficult to express it in words. So on this Easter Eve we gather to experience the inexpressible. We do so by drawing on a wealth of images that take us back to our sacred roots.

Images abound in this service. We ring bells to prepare our hearts to resume the joyous shouts of Alleluia! We have held back that exuberant proclamation of praise during these past forty days. Now we shout it out, all the while ringing our bells, proclaiming the good news of the Resurrection. The water of baptism, the Paschal candle, darkness, light …

But perhaps the most obvious image on this night is fire. One of the earliest expressions of mystery for humankind must surely have been that of sacred fire. Dating back more than three hundred thousand years, it was the beginning for us of becoming separated from the animal kingdom, of becoming truly human. It speaks to us from the very depth of our being.

That is no doubt why so many cultures have traditions related to sacred fire. It was sacred to the ancient Celts. The domestic hearth fire was never allowed to die except during the festival of Beltane, when it was ritually rekindled from the royal fire. Indeed, the hearth fire was the centre of Celtic family activity. Cooking, eating, storytelling all took place around the fire.

For thousands of yours our aboriginal people have held council fires. The Sacred Fires are kept from one generation to another, the wisdom passed on by Elders to children and grandchildren. The Elders who speak the wisdom are revered and cared for, as they are the very heart of the people.

So tonight we begin this celebration by lighting the new fire. From the fire we light the Paschal candle and then pass the flame from one person to another. We come into the darkness of the church bringing light with us. By its light we recount the story of our faith.

The storytelling connects us to our sacred roots. We recount the story of creation. We tell how God led the people of Israel out of Egypt. We hear of the people of Israel wandering in the desert, of times of exile, of times of deliverance. We hear the Christian message. “Do you not know,” Paul asks us, “that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We are reminded that we are new people, focused on new goals, compelled by new motives, committed to new objectives, reborn, free to love and accept ourselves, and to rededicate our lives to loving others. It is a fitting time to renew our baptismal covenant, to remember the promises made at our baptism.

The story continues at the empty tomb. The women go to the tomb to see how Jesus’ body is laid. They prepare the spices and ointments for his burial. What turmoil is going on in them? So much has happened since they came from Galilee with Jesus. They remember the excitement of the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. Could it be such a short time ago? How exciting it had been to be a part of that throng, jostling, joyfully waving palm branches, cheering Jesus on. They had not in any way guessed what the outcome might be. But just as suddenly as the crowd had appeared to wave him on, so they turned against him. The days that followed would always remain a blur. Now he was dead, brutally murdered. His followers felt the terrible emptiness of bereavement. All hope was gone.

After the Sabbath, they made their way back to the tomb with the spices they had prepared. But when they arrived at the tomb, to their surprise the stone was rolled away from the entrance. As they entered the tomb, they realized that the body was missing. They no longer had a sense of purpose. As they stood there perplexed, wondering what to do next, they were asked a vital question. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

And there in the emptiness of the tomb, they encountered the risen Lord. There was no need to see him. They remembered. They remembered what Jesus had told them; that he would be crucified, and on the third day he would rise again! In remembering, they experienced the joy of the resurrection. In that encounter, their fears and perplexity were gone. They left immediately to tell the eleven of their experience. They became messengers of the risen Lord.

The empty tomb is an image for us at this vigil. It is a symbol to each of us that Christ’s resurrection is much more than mere survival. In the resurrection, death has been vanquished. Our destiny is opened up beyond death and the grave. The Jesus who lived and walked and taught on earth is not in the tomb. He is not to be sought in the far distant past. His saving work is a present reality in the community of the believers. We like the holy women at the tomb, discover that Christ is alive in us, through us, and forever. We are able to proclaim: “The Lord is risen! Alleluia! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!”

Good Friday

How Can We Call This Day “Good”?

John 18 & 19

Christ's life is full of meaningful moments. But surely none is as profound as the events we have been enacting this week, the events of the last days of his earthly life. Here is both tragedy and glory.

It is far easier for us to see the tragedy than to understand the glory. How can we see it as anything but a terrible waste of human life? What kind of a God could allow such a terrible thing to happen to a beloved child? How can we, knowing the depths to which humanity fell, have the audacity to call this Friday "Good"?

The story of the crucifixion is an astounding story of hatred and hostility. It brings up so many questions in us. How could one of his closest companions, one who had travelled with him, the one entrusted with the common purse, deliberately agree with his enemies to assist them in capturing him? Why should the leaders of the synagogue turn on one of their own, a young rabbi, with such animosity? His unorthodox ways are simply not enough to explain it. Why should the guards turn with such vehemence against their prisoner, bullying him in such a vicious manner? How could Pilate, a servant of Rome, go against his inner convictions and impose the death penalty on one he knows to be a good person? Why should the crowd, who only days before had cheered Jesus on with shouts of "Hosanna", just as easily shout, "Crucify"? It doesn't make sense.

The day was a Friday. But it was quite unlike any other day. For on what other day have people gone so far astray? Were they evil, that great crowd of people? Who was in that crowd? There were the unemployed, the disenfranchised of Jerusalem. One can understand how they might take out their frustrations on another. What about the shopkeepers, artisans, business people and housewives in that crowd? People just like you and me. What about the religious people, people with character? Yet none of that saved them from becoming a part of that unthinking mob.

That mob mentality is part of the tragedy of being human. The events of that day are disasters renewed daily in our world. Amnesty International reminds us that, even while we are worshipping here in Newcastle or Orono, some man or woman in a police station somewhere in the world is being battered or tortured for no particular reason except that he or she is at the mercy of another human being. Terrible atrocities take place every day. Many of them take place in the name of God.

Bullying has become a travesty in our school system. Children mock other children to the point where they commit suicide. It is a sad commentary on our society.

There once was a town called Harmony. To be true the town did not live up to its name. For it was a hotbed of bigotry, prejudice and discrimination. The King had long watched what was happening in the town. He knew that he had to take action. So he sent his son to look into the problem.

The Prince went in disguise. That way he could go about freely. There were no barriers. He made himself a part of every group in the community. He found his way into every ghetto. Rich and poor alike were attracted to him. They sensed his acceptance and love. In return they would have done anything for him.

One day he invited all his friends to a picnic. The whole town turned out. He went from group to group encouraging them to talk with one another, to share the food and drink they had brought, and to have their children play games and run races together. Suddenly the mood turned ugly. The rich looked at the poor and began to mutter. "What kind of company does this man keep?" The poor couldn't help but notice the snobbery of the rich. The blacks looked at the whites saying, "What are they doing here? Who invited them anyway?" The Prince continued to encourage them to find their common interests and to share with one another. The more he tried to convince them the more angry they became until finally their anger turned against him. They rose as a mob. Their shouts and screams of hatred filled the air.

The Prince, battered and bruised, beat a hasty retreat. Just as he left town a huge clap of thunder was heard. The sky turned as black as night. It began to pour with rain. Now the only shelter in the picnic area was an abandoned temple. The crowd hurried inside and stood there huddled together like a flock of sheep. They were petrified at the fury of the storm. They knew that they had done a terrible thing. "Was God punishing them?" They wondered.

In their panic they forgot about their differences. The walls of the temple bound them together, as members of a large family. The barriers fell down. They began to comfort one another attempting to allay each other's fears. They reflected on all that had taken place. They understood what the Prince had accomplished for them. When they discovered his true identity, they were overwhelmed. Love for him overflowed. They longed to make amends to him for their hateful actions. Realizing how impossible that was, they made amends to one another. "That", they knew, "was what the Prince had been sent to do." From that day on Harmony began to live up to its name.

Jesus was not a prisoner dragged to his execution. He was a king offering himself for his kingdom. That is the ultimate love of God. It is not something we can know in any intellectual way. We must experience it. We must know it in the way we know God's presence with us. We must understand why he came and why he suffered and died, for only then can we call this Friday, "Good".

Maundy Thursday

A New Commandment

Readings: Exodus 12:1-14; Psalm 116:10-17; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-15

Lord, you reclined at the table with your disciples as you celebrated the ancestral meal on this evening. You knew that your betrayer was sitting with you at the same table. You knew too that there was no other way but the suffering that awaited you.

You took bread in your hands, praying those ancient words, “This is the bread of suffering that our ancestors ate in a foreign land. Let all who are hungry come to the Passover meal. May the eternal, the Almighty, send a blessing on us and on all the Lord’s people.” You gave us a new explanation for the breaking of bread. Your life was about to be given in sacrifice. You could not have known that two thousand years later we would gather on this night and break bread and bless the cup, remembering your sacrifice.

Then during supper you rose from the table. Removing your outer garment, you wrapped a towel around your waist. You poured water into a basin. Kneeling down on the ground, you began to wash the feet of your followers. What a lesson in humility and service you communicated to us that night. You, our Lord, performed a task that not even a Jewish slave would be asked to do.

"Do you know what I have done?" you asked them. "You call me Teacher and Lord - and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. I have given you an example so that you may copy what I have done. Happiness will be yours if you behave accordingly."

You taught us a lesson that evening. You taught us that authority was to be a form of service. No one should be allowed to rule who had not proven their willingness to serve.

So often there is a gulf between those who serve and those who are served, between those who rule and those who are ruled. There is so much misunderstanding and hurt. Those in low positions feel misunderstood, unappreciated. They deem those in high positions as being remote and uncaring. They continue in judgement of one another until their hearts become bitter.

Would that we might follow instead your loving example. What a world this would be if we did. Just for once, let the policeman be arrested; the priest sit in the pew; the teacher sit at a desk; the foreman take a shift on the assembly line; the warden be locked in a cell; the doctor become sick and lie in the hospital bed; the judge be judged; the wealthy line up at the food bank; the person with the secure job line up at the unemployment office.

You call us to be a servant people, to live in solidarity with all of humanity. And weknow that only when we are a servant church will we have any relevance in our world. Tonight we come together to share as family at the Eucharist. We are sent out as servants into the world.

We know, Lord, that we should give everything. We should give everything until there is not a single pain, a single misery, a single sin in the world. We should then give all, Lord, all the time. We should give our lives.

But wait! That cannot be what you are saying. I am exaggerating. I must be. It doesn't make sense. It is simply too much for you to be asking of us.

Yet Lord, we know. There is only one commandment for everyone. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul, with all your mind, and with all your strength. Love your neighbour as yourself. Lord teach us your way of service and love.

Sunday of the Passion Year C

No Other Way

Readings: Luke 19:29-40; Psalm 22:1-11; Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 22:39-23:50

Thomas Berry, a Passionist priest, wrote, “The most appropriate image of Christ is Mother Earth crucified.” It is reflected in the events of Palm and Passion Sunday. Entering Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, Jesus is hailed by the crowds as a king. “If they were silenced,” Jesus says, “then the very stones in the street would start to shout.” And in the reading of the Passion at the time of Jesus’ death darkness covers the earth as the whole of creation is touched by the selfless act of the Son of God. What was done to Jesus was done to the whole of creation.

That is the journey into which we enter today. We are swept along the city streets as part of the crowd. With the disciples and friends of Jesus we cheer him on shouting “Hosanna! Save us!”

We sit at the table with Jesus and the disciples, passing the cup of wine and breaking bread. We hear Jesus’ words interpreting the bread and wine in relation to his imminent death.

We find ourselves in the garden of Gethsemane agonizing with Jesus. He spends the night in an agony of doubt praying his anguished prayer. We fight sleep, but like the disciples give in, exhausted by the events of the day.

We feel a deep sense of grief as Jesus is betrayed by one of his closest friends. We watch with Peter and the disciples from a safe distance as he is taken away to appear before Pilate. We feel a sense of shock and disbelief, as he is condemned to death. Yet we find ourselves joining in with the crowd shouting our taunts of “Crucify!”

We feel pain and confusion as we stand with the disciples at the foot of the cross. All hope is gone as he is executed along with two murderers. We hear him draw his last breath. We follow to the tomb; we see his body laid out for burial. We scatter in confusion.

A friend recently asked why we tell the story year after year. My immediate reaction was, “Why wouldn’t we?” It is, after all, central to our faith. But then I pondered a little over the question. Is it our fascination with violence? Is it because bloodshed is so commonplace in our lives? Are we so used to seeing it on television and in the newspaper that we need the grisly reminder? Are we hungry for tragedy? Do we want to assuage our sense of guilt with the reminder that there is nothing we could have done differently? Do we want to lay blame on others? Or do we believe that our participation in the passion of Christ is a necessary sacrifice?

Hopefully we do not come together as church out of a sense of duty or shame; nor are we here to make atonement for our sinfulness. We are here to be reminded of what God has done for us. We are here to celebrate the great gift of salvation that God has offered us in the death of Christ.

We are here to confess not our sins and our brokenness, but our hope, our hope in the resurrection. It was not for our wickedness that Christ died, but for the weakness of our human nature.

We are called to be here at the foot of the cross. We are called to be here at the foot of the cross because God will not let death have the final say. God will not let death separate us from the great love of a great God.

From our place at the foot of the cross we know fear, sorrow, grief, pain, and confusion; but we know also joy. We know God’s glory and love. There is hope from that vantage point as look out on God’s new creation.

We can view the cross as the greatest of failures; or we can recognize and be convinced of God’s loving compassion for humanity. In Christ’s death God suffered and died. That is the measure of God’s love. Can we understand that great love? Can we take it and transform it into a thing of loveliness and glory that inspires us, and others to take up the cross and follow in Christ’s footsteps? Do we possess the mind and attitude of Christ? For in dying Jesus showed us God’s glory and passionate love. There was no other way. There is no other way but the way of the cross.