* Acts 5:27-32 * Psalm 118:14-29 * Revelation 1:4-8 * John 20:19-31

There are some phrases that when we hear them said bring to mind a certain game show host or film or TV character and I wonder if you can guess who I am thinking of when I share some of these with you.

NB If you are reading this sermon online, then look at the end for the answers!

1. “There’s no place like home!”
2. “Ay Carumba!”
3. “I tawt I taw a puddy tat”
4. “Shut that door!”
5. “I’ll be back!”
6. “Nice to see you, to see you – nice!”

And similarly, there are some phrases in our scriptures that when we hear them, we immediately identify who said them,

• “But how can this be since I am a virgin?”
• “Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace”
• “Let there be light!”

And today, in our gospel reading we hear someone utter a phrase that immediately puts us in mind of the speaker –

“Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”

Who do you think of? Of course – the disciple, Thomas!

That one sentence has left Thomas forever labelled Doubting Thomas.

That’s the Thomas with whom we are most familiar. But actually, I think there is another way of looking at Thomas and that’s the Thomas that wants to believe. That’s the Thomas Jesus appears to in today’s gospel.

This is a story about believing, not doubting. If it tells us anything it tells us that ‘resurrection’ is difficult to accept, to believe. It’s not just an idea or a fact to which we give agreement or assent. It is a whole new way of being.

If we’re not wrestling with what resurrection means, it’s place in our life, and how it manifests itself, then maybe it’s not actually that real for us.

Doubting Thomas may be the one that gets the label, but the other disciples also have difficulty believing. On the evening of the first day of the week, the day Jesus was resurrected, they are hiding.

God opened the tomb and they locked the doors. God emptied the tomb and they filled the house. Jesus appears to them in their locked room. He speaks to them. He breathes life into them. But a week later they are in the same place, behind the same locked doors. Nothing much has changed.

Despite how we’ve labelled him Thomas is not doubting. He is simply struggling with how to believe and what to believe in. He wants to see and touch for only one reason. So that he too might believe and there’s something faithful and authentic about that. It’s a struggle most of us have probably had at some point in our lives too and a struggle that some may well be going through right now.

What do we want to believe about Jesus’ resurrection? What gets in the way of our believing? What makes it difficult to believe? And I wonder how we are wrestling and struggling with the resurrection of Jesus in our lives?

Many of us want to believe that Jesus’ resurrection offers peace, but then we see wars across the world, families in conflict and relationships broken. We want to believe that Jesus’ resurrection overcomes death, but we still cry for (and feel the loss of) those friends and family who have died. We want to believe that Jesus’ resurrection is real, but we don’t see much difference in our lives this week compared to the week before Easter.

Sometimes it’s really hard to work out how our “belief” fits with what we see and experience day to day. We can quickly and easily get to the same place as Thomas. Unless we see wars cease, conflict resolved, and relationships reconciled, we will not believe. Unless we feel the presence of a loved one we have lost, our tears dry up and our pain goes away, we will not believe. Unless we experience some measurable difference in our  lives, we will not believe.

When it comes down to it, we’re not really all that different from Thomas.

We each live with at least one “unless clause.” Unless I see, unless I touch, unless I feel, unless I experience, I will not believe. It reveals our struggle with our desire to believe, but it also reveals some  misunderstanding about faith and the resurrection.

Far too often we condition the resurrection not on the power of God, but on the sufficiency of the evidence. Each condition becomes just another lock on the door. It won’t keep Jesus out, but it will keep us trapped inside and it won’t be long before our house becomes our tomb.

The resurrection of Christ does not appear meet the conditions we demand. But it does empower and enable us to meet those conditions. It lets us unlock the doors and step outside even when we don’t know what is on the other side.

The resurrection does not end wars, but it does reveal the sanctity and dignity of life, so that we might speak and work for justice, freedom, and peace. It is the compassion behind the tears we weep and the prayers we offer for all who are victims of hunger, fear, injustice, and oppression.

The resurrection does not magically fix relationships, but it is the energy and perseverance behind our work to reconcile relationships and resolve conflict. It is the power by which we love our neighbour as ourselves.

The resurrection does not eliminate our pain or tears over the death of a loved one, but it does give us the strength to meet the days to come with steadfastness and patience; not sorrowing as those without hope, but in thankful remembrance of God’s great goodness, and in the joyful expectation of eternal life with those we love.

The resurrection does not offer measurable results, productivity, or efficiency, but it does guarantee our life and our future with God.

Resurrection is not an idea to be grasped or a case to be proved. It is a life to be lived. Every time we live in the power of the resurrection, we engage with the world, one another, and our own lives in a new way. We move from saying, “Unless I see…,” to saying, “My Lord and my God.”

I don’t know if Thomas actually put his finger in the mark of the nails or his hand in Jesus’ side. Saint John doesn’t tell us. It doesn’t really matter what Thomas did. That’s not the issue. This story isn’t about Thomas. It’s about us. How will you live? What will you do? Do you truly believe in the resurrection of Our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ?

ANSWERS TO THE CATCH PHRASE QUESTIONS

1. Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz
2. Bart Simpson
3. Tweetie Pie
4. Larry Grayson
5. Arnold Schwarzenegger as ‘The Terminator’
6. Bruce Forsythe
7. Mary, the mother of Jesus
8. Old Simeon
9. God

John 20.1-18

On this most glorious day, when we celebrate Our Lord’s resurrection and His triumph over sin and death there are many great traditions that have grown and developed around the world.

We are all familiar with presenting EASTER eggs, spotting the EASTER bunny and rolling hard boiled, decorated eggs down a grassy, daffodil strewn hill – but what about other traditions from around the globe. I’ll tell you a tradition and let’s see if you can guess which country it comes from (see end of this sermon for answers):

1. There is one tradition which involves young men and boys roaming the streets with brightly decorated willow sticks, usually adorned with ribbons, looking for girls to playfully whip – the whipping is not intended to be painful, but instead is meant to ‘check’ the girls for good health and beauty.

2. On your way to the Caribbean, you could stop off at a tiny island nation where there is a tradition of flying kites shaped like hexagons. These are meant to remind you of Jesus rising from the dead. One of my sisters lives there and the first time she saw this, she was puzzled – in fact it completely ‘bemused ‘er’ .

3. In another country, the mystery of Easter is emphasised through the flooding of television channels, books and even milk cartons with short crime stories – usually so complicated that there is ‘no way’ that viewers and readers can work out whodunnit,

On this day lots of other crazy and amazing things go on – eating red eggs in Greece, decorating holy places with tobacco and cigarettes in Papua New Guinea and even dressing up as witches in Finland – to scare all bad spirits from area on this most holy of days.

It’s all good fun and just a little bit bonkers – what people will get up to on Easter Sunday – I’ve even heard of some people, all around the world who gather in stone or wooden buildings, or in open areas and proclaim that about two thousand years ago a man was crucified and then three days later rose from the dead – and that this man was the son of God! Who would believe something so unbelievable?

To be serious, this is of course what we are doing. We are gathered here together first and foremost to worship almighty God through His Son, Jesus Christ. To give thanks and praise for His sacrifice and His eternal message of salvation and to acknowledge that through our baptism, we belong to Him.

But we also come to church at Easter for a whole host of reasons that are bound up in this message.  We come to church at Easter because that is what our family has always done, and the continued observation of Easter somehow connects us to the past, present, and future, creating a sense of belonging and identity. 

We come to church at Easter, because we long for a good word – a reminder that even in a tumultuous world, there is the promise of resurrection life, joy, and hope. 

We come to church at Easter because we love the music, the flowers, the Easter attire, and the experience of being a part of community. 

And some of us might not be sure why we come to church at Easter, but we suspect, or at least hope, we will find something that can revive our weary souls.

I suspect what most of us are hoping for today is an experience like Mary Magdalene’s.  I am not sure Mary knew why she went to the tomb all those years ago. 

In John’s gospel, Mary is not there with spices to anoint Jesus’ body.  She does not bring flowers or some memento to leave at the tomb.  In fact, she comes to the tomb in darkness, before the morning light has arisen, perhaps in a fog of knowing that she needs something, but not sure what that something might be. 

And then, maybe not unlike the chaos that may have been our morning to get here on time and half-way presentable, Mary’s life  gets thrown into chaos.  An empty tomb means she and the disciples run around like headless chickens. 

Later, Mary finds herself bemoaning to angels and a stranger alike that she just wants Jesus’ body – a physical reminder of all the horror and love and pain that has happened.  And in the midst of this chaos, a simple, profound thing happens.  Mary is called by her name.  And her world gets turned on its head.

There is something very powerful about being called by your name.  Many of us frequent restaurants, pubs or coffee shops because we love being recognised by name by our favourite restraunter, publican or shop keeper. 

If you have ever received a blessing or healing prayer by a person who knew your name, you will know the intimacy that is created between the two of you, and the power of hearing your name lifted up to God. 

Being known by name creates a feeling of acceptance, affirmation, affection, and acknowledgement. We can only imagine the rush of emotions when Jesus calls Mary by name today – not just the recognition of who Jesus is, but the reminder of how much he has loved her.

I suspect we should add that to the list of reasons why we come to church on Easter Sunday. 

We want to be known too.  Perhaps we want to literally be called by name.  But perhaps we know just being here creates the same sense of belonging that being known by name creates. 

When we sit in these pews, we know that we are sitting close to someone who, today, is somehow searching for a sense of belonging too – who also rallied to get to church on time this morning.

When we sit here, we know that we are surrounded by a group of people who also love having their senses overwhelmed – from the smell of fragrant flowers, the joyous sound of music, the taste of communion bread, the sight of fanfare and smiles, being able to look into another’s eyes at the peace. 

In these seats today, we know that we will be offered a word of joy, light, love, hope – and we want our lives to be marked by that same sense of promise.

Now we may feel tempted to take all that affirmation, all that encouragement, and joy, and go about for the next few days on our own personal high – as though the gifts we receive today are solely for us. 

But what all this fanfare, this acknowledgment, and this hope are meant to do is to propel us out into the world. 

When Mary is called by name, receiving the blessing of recognition and encouragement, she does not stay at the feet of the resurrected Jesus. 

She becomes John’s gospel’s first preacher.  “I have seen the Lord,” Mary says to the disciples. 

Now I know some of us will go out from this place today and do just that – we will put on our Facebook page, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!” or we will exchange EASTER cards to tell each other what a joyous day this is. 

But for others of us, sharing today’s joy may take us a little more time, or may look a bit different from proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord,” to our favourite publican. 

What Mary invites us to do today is find our own way of sharing the beautiful gift we receive – to give someone else the gift of joy and hope, to quietly tell a friend what has happened this day, or to simply call someone else by name – sharing that same sense of belonging and affirmation you receive today.  

You came to church this Easter Sunday for something.  Mary invites you to give that something to someone else. 

Amen.  Alleluia!

Answers to traditions from different countries –

1. – Czech Republic.
2. – Bermuda.
3. – Norway.

---

 [1]

Native Americans tell the story of a sacred tree, which the creator has planted. Under it all the people of the earth may gather and find healing, power, wisdom and security. The roots of this tree spread deep into mother earth, its branches reach up like praying hands to father sky. The fruits of this tree are all the good things the creator has given to his people: love, compassion, generosity, patience, wisdom, justice, courage, respect, humility and many other wonderful gifts.

Their ancient teachers taught that the life of the tree is the life of the people. If the people wander far from the tree, if they forget to seek nourishment from its fruit, or if they turn against the tree and try to destroy it, great sorrow will come to them. Many will become sick at heart, they will cease to dream and see visions, they will begin to quarrel among themselves over worthless things. They will be unable to tell the truth and deal with each other honestly. They will forget how to survive in their own land. Their lives will become filled with gloom. Little by little, they will poison themselves and all they touch.

But the tree would never die. As long as the tree is alive, the people would live and one day they would come to their senses and begin to search for the tree and its truth. Wise elders and leaders have preserved knowledge of this tree and they will guide anyone who is sincerely seeking for it.

On this Good Friday we spend time at the foot of our sacred tree – the cross.

There is a medieval poem called The Dream of the Rood which describes the crucifixion from the point of view of the cross, the tree that was cut down and used as a shameful support for a dying man. But the tree says that, much to his surprise, he wasn’t the support for a dead weight, but rather the mount for a triumphant Christ, who rode him like a victor in battle. Over the page is a modern version of the same idea.

Rood-tree (Medieval anon)

I might have been his cradle, rocking him, folding securely against harm.

I could have been a ship, turning my sturdy timbers to the wind, keeping him safe from the storm.

Instead they used me as his cross.

No infant rages rocked the cradle tree, or storm lashed ship such as unleashed on me that day.

Shock waves of hatred crashed against me, bearing on me through his body weight of world’s pain,

Weight of his agony; wringing from him drop by drop,

‘Why , God, you too?’

No comforting protection could I offer, or deliverance; only support, his mainstay in distress.

But did I hold him, or did he with strength of purpose lovingly embrace his work of suffering,

Stretched on my arms?

They say it was a tree whose fruit brought sorrow to the world.

The fruit I bore, though seeming shame, they call salvation.

My glory was it then, to be his tree.

The cross is not ashamed to be associated with Christ and nor should we, marked with the sign of the cross, be ashamed to bear Him with us in our world.

Prayer

If you can, get up and go to your window – take a look out and spend a few minutes in silence looking at the trees or plants you can see around . You might want to make the sign of the cross on yourself – even if it is not your usual custom – this is not a usual day.

Holy God,

May I, signed with the sign of the cross, never be ashamed to confess the faith of Christ crucified, for sake of Him who died and lives for the world, Jesus Christ. Amen.

On Maundy Thursday the stage is being set for the final drama of Jesus’ mission. Judas has gone to the chief priests to make a deal in which he will hand Jesus over to them. This term, this ‘handing over’ is something of a refrain that appears throughout the Gospel and reaches a climax here. Remember, John the Baptist was ‘handed over’ and now we see Jesus being handed over – the term occurs three times in today’s passage. Later, the followers of Jesus will also be handed over into the hands of those who want to put an end to their mission.

We all know that Judas sells his master, hands him over, for thirty pieces of silver, though only the gospel writer Matthew mentions the actual sum given to Judas.

What people will do for money!

And Judas is not alone. What he did is happening every day. Perhaps in some way we, too, have betrayed and handed over Jesus more than once. Maybe not in such an explicit way as Judas, but perhaps much more subtly. Think about the last time you bought a particular item for example, and you chose a less costly version of the product to save some money. Did you explore how that particular item was made so cheaply? Was everyone involved in the process treated fairly and justly? Not quite like the betrayal of Jesus as Judas did, but it’s still worth thinking about.

On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, Jesus’ disciples ask him where he wants to celebrate the Passover. Little do they know the significance of this Passover for Jesus – and for them.

The Feast of Unleavened Bread and the Passover are closely linked, but there is a distinction between them. The Passover was the commemoration of the Israelites being liberated from slavery in Egypt, their escape through the Red Sea, and the beginning of their long journey to the Promised Land. The feast began at sunset after the Passover lamb had been sacrificed in the temple on the afternoon of the 14th day of the month Nisan. Associated with this, on the same evening was the eating of unleavened bread – the bread that Jesus would lift up, saying over it “This is my Body”. The eating of this bread continued for a whole week as a reminder of the sufferings the Israelites underwent and the hastiness of their departure. It was a celebration of thanks to God for the past and to bring hope for the future.

And during the meal with his followers, Jesus drops the bombshell: “One of you is about to betray me (in the Greek, ‘hand me over’). It is revealing that none of them points a finger at someone else. “Is it I, Lord?” Each one realises that he is a potential betrayer of Jesus. And, in fact, at some point during this crisis they will all abandon him.

And of course it isn’t one of his many enemies who will hand Jesus over. No, it is one of the Twelve, it is someone who has dipped his hand into the same dish with Jesus, as a sign of friendship and solidarity.

All of this has been foretold in the Scriptures but how sad it is for the person who has to take this role, even though it is a role he has deliberately chosen. There is a certain cynicism when Judas asks with an air of injured innocence, “Not I, Rabbi, surely?” “They are your words,” is Jesus’ brief reply.

The whole approaching drama is now set in motion.

And so, over the coming three days, let us watch carefully not just as spectators but as participants. We too have so often betrayed Jesus, we too have so often broken bread with Jesus and perhaps have sold him for money, out of ambition, out of greed, out of anger, hatred, revenge or even sometimes out of wilful ignorance for our own personal gain.

Each day we face a choice. We can, like Judas, either abandon him in despair or, like Peter, come back to him with tears of repentance.

Over the past couple of weeks, I have had occasion to travel down to Inverness a number of times and it brought a smile to my face when I saw that the donkey’s at the Donkey Sanctuary were out in the fields enjoying the warmer weather. Seeing donkeys always makes me think of the significant roles that these beautiful animals play in various stories in the bible. There’s the donkey that carried the heavily pregnant Mary all the way to Bethlehem for example. But did you know about the donkey who spoke? Balaam’s ass. You can read all about her in Numbers 22 – 24. She saw exactly what was going on – more than her boss did, in fact, and eventually spoke to draw his attention to the presence of an angel.

Another donkey, one which we hear about as we step into Holy Week, carried Jesus publicly into Jerusalem. It is well known that nearly all donkey’s bear the mark of a cross on their backs and like them Christians carry the mark of the cross too, given to us at our baptism. Donkeys teach us a lot about Christian discipleship. They remind us that we always carry Jesus invisibly, like Mary’s donkey, wherever we go. Every day Christ is carried into our world by us. As St Theresa said, ‘Christ has no body now on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the feet on which he is to go about doing good, ours the eyes through which he is to look with compassion on the world, ours the hands with which he is to bless us now’. So, on the days when we feel we’re carrying the world on our shoulders, we need to remember that we are also bearing Christ to meet the world’s pain and give people life.

There are times when, like Balaam’s ass, we shall see things that others can’t or won’t see. Then we have to do something about it. Balaam’s ass tried first of all to draw the boss’ attention to the demands of God (the angel standing in the way) and she got pretty rough treatment for her trouble. But then God gave her words to say and Balaam began to take God seriously.

Being a Christian, being outspoken for God, isn’t always going to be easy or pleasant. Balaam was trying to maintain his reputation and wasn’t keen on anything standing in his way. We can sometimes find ourselves challenging important people and vested interests – that can be very hard, like crucifixion.

The Palm Sunday donkey reminds us that when we go with Christ, there are no promises about easy rides. We know, however, that at the end of the suffering, after the death, there was resurrection. We know that Christ has promised to keep us company, but as we carry him with us in the world, he won’t avoid confrontation, or allow us to. ‘In the world’, he said, ‘you will have tribulation’. We know that, from personal experience, and from sharing in the pain of the word as people starve, exploit and kill each other. We shall have to hang on with some of the donkey’s stubbornness to the belief that Christ really has overcome the evil in the world and that we shall share that victory.

Today Christians across our country will be entering into the journey of Holy Week, armed with their crosses, ready to ride out again with Jesus, to be his donkeys as he goes the way of his cross. And we believe that as we faithfully accompany him to the cross, we may also know in ourselves the power of his resurrection. 

Ride on, ride on in majesty!

* Isaiah 43:16-21 * Psalm 126 * Philippians 3:4b-14 * John 12:1-8

I’m wondering this morning if any of you have planned your holidays for this coming year?

Maybe you are off for a week or two to some beautiful spot here in the UK, or maybe you’ve booked a guided tour somewhere on the continent?

I’m sure it will come as no surprise to some of you that we are absolutely shocking at forward planning and its only in the last few weeks that we have started to think about possible holidays for the coming year.

Amongst the variety of options, I came across a sailing experience recommended by Leonardo De Caprio (ironically the actor most famous for his lead role in the film Titanic). Did you know that for just £306,000 a week you can hire a private yacht with all the latest amenities – but no crew – you have to sail it yourself! Very tempting but having no sailing experience, I wasn’t sure we would manage and besides it sounds like a rather expensive and extravagant amount of money for a week’s holiday. Having said that, Leonardo De Caprio’s assets are worth about £170 million, so I guess to him, it wouldn’t seem all that much.

I did consider a week at the Hotel President Wilson in Geneva. Only £62,000 a night – again, a little extravagant for us perhaps. Bill Gates (developer of Microsoft) has stayed there. But then, his net worth is more than £60 billion – so a stay at the President Wilson Geneva probably doesn’t seem all that extravagant to him.

Extravagance is in the eye of the beholder. The extravagance of what we spend might appear to be relative to what amount is coming in through our salaries or benefits or pensions.

The amount that premier league footballers spend on cars and clothes might seem ridiculously extravagant to us, but then I’m guessing that their income vastly exceeds that of most of us here this morning.

So imagine then, what the disciples and followers of Jesus, most of whom had left their jobs and homes and were living through a common purse, imagine what they thought when they saw Mary pour an expensive jar of perfume over his feet.

Not just expensive, but very expensive. A pound of Nard cost about 300 denarii at the time (nearly a year’s wages for the average worker) – estimates put that to be equivalent to about £30,000 in today’s money.

Just think, what could you do with £30,000?

‘Extravagant’ is the word that many preachers use to describe this. They talk about Mary’s “extravagant” love and her “extravagant” gift. And the word extravagant seems entirely appropriate when we are talking about pouring £30,000 worth of perfume onto someone’s feet and it’s certainly how the disciples looked at it as we heard in the gospel reading.

We also heard that Mary really pushed the accepted social boundaries in this story. It was not acceptable for a woman to let down her hair in public, let alone wipe a single man’s feet with it.

What a scandal this was! What did she think she was doing?

Well don’t forget that just before what we have read this morning, Mary had witnessed her own brother Lazarus rising from the dead at Jesus command. I think Mary must have had a pretty clear understanding of just who Jesus was and how close he was to God. Her faith in him must have been sure and certain having witnessed such a miracle involving a member of her own family.

The faith that Mary models to Judas and the rest of the disciples, to her family, and even to us this morning is a faith marked by an extravagant act. It is a faith that is always seeking “more.”

In contrast to Mary, sometimes our faith can be a part of our lives that often gets shortchanged by our own personal quests for “more”.

We want more sleep, so we hit the snooze button on a Sunday morning. We want more time for our hobbies or recreation, so we put off reading our Bibles or saying our prayers for another day when we “have more time.”

We want more money so that we can buy the latest gadget or take that holiday, so we adjust our giving just a bit. In short, if we are not careful, we can let our need for “more” take priority over our faith.

We spend more time worrying about the challenges and issues in our lives, more time trying to figure out our relationships and daily  schedules, more energy and resources on material things, and, because something has to give, we end up spending less time on our relationship with God.

But, you know, imagine if instead of letting our faith take a backseat, we somehow reframed our understanding of “more,” and, like Mary, we begain to live with extravagant faith.

As with Mary’s actions this morning, such a faith may seem quite  ridiculous to others, wasteful even. But we rest assured that our Lord encourages us to keep going at it, even in the face of adversity, for we have a Saviour who believes in extravagant, over-the-top actions. That, of course, is one of the messages of the cross, the overabundance of love that God has for the world.

Having faith that is extravagant means being willing to truly love God with all that we have: with all our mind, all our body, and with all our heart. It means making that first “more” in our lives our relationship with God. Going above and beyond into something deeper still, and trusting that there is always something more to be learned, more to be experienced, about the one who first loved us.

This “more” is not about a transaction or monetary value. And it’s not about how many events we attend, or committees on which we serve. Extravagant faith is about giving God all that we have, not just settling for the bare minimum.  When we are overwhelmed by our love for God, we are apt to do wild and radical things, the kind of things that truly label us as Christ’s disciples.

It is such love that leads us to speak out where there is injustice – to stand up to the bullies of the world and proclaim that all deserve to be treated with love and respect. It is love that helps remind us to spend a few extra minutes checking in with someone who we know is having a tough time. God’s love leads us to extravagant faith.

Some moments of extravagant faith, much like the perfume Mary poured, might seem temporary or fleeting. After all, lots of extravagant gifts are simply put out there into the ether, where they soon evaporate. A choir rehearses an intricate anthem, and three minutes later it is gone. A teacher prepares the lesson, stands to deliver, and then the school day is over. Mourners provide large arrangements of flowers to honour those whom they grieve. Individuals donate large sums of money for their congregations to spend. Why do they do this? Well, love has its reasons.

But perhaps these aren’t as short-lived as we might think, because once we break open the jars of extravagant faith, the fragrance of love’s actions is carried on the wind to places we never see. Acts of love and extravagant faith have the potential to grow into more, as generosity inspires generosity. Imagine how extravagantly-filled our lives could be if we all lived with a little more love, a little more faith.

Imagine if we were to live and to love a little more – with God the possibilities are endless. No act of faith is too small, and no act of faith is too large, when inspired by our love for him.

So let go of whatever holds you back from giving all that you have, all that you are. Let God’s love wash over you and carry you to something new. Seek to be “more” of a disciple, and prepare for the overwhelming fragrance that comes when we live with a faith that is extravagant, worshiping a God whose grace and love is indeed always “more” than we could ever dream.  Amen.

* Joshua 5:9-12 * Psalm 32 * 2 Corinthians 5:16-21 * Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32

Drill Sergeant  Morrison was frustrated in her efforts to make a soldier out of a certain new recruit.

The trainee soldier lagged behind on marches.

He used any excuse to go to the sick bay at any opportunity, grumbled constantly about the food, and never made his bed properly.

But one day, a noticeable change took place in the young man’s attitude.

When asked to what she attributed the soldiers change in attitude, the drill sergeant explained,

“Threats and punishment did not work, bribery did not work …. so I had to resort to the ultimate weapon: I called his mother!”

Today is of course Mother’s Day – or to give it the more traditional title Mothering Sunday.

Telephone companies around the world record Mother’s Day as the busiest day of the year – that text or Instagram message just won’t do – many children everywhere (of varying  ages) feel the need to actually hear their mother’s voice on this day.

I wonder if you can identify these famous mothers from the names of their children –

• Charles, Ann, Andrew and Edward
• Bart, Lisa and Maggie
• Carol and Mark
• Brooklyn, Romeo, Cruz and Harper

I wonder if we were to ask any of these four famous mothers to explain the joy of motherhood what they might say?

One extremely wise mother when asked that very question gave this explanation:

“The joy of motherhood ….. is what a woman experiences (Slow) when all the children are finally in bed”.

So why – on this Mothering Sunday – did we have a story about a father and his two sons in our gospel?

Well, of course the story is about a parents love – though it may be a father in this instance, rather than a mother.

Unconditional, forgiving, welcoming us despite all our faults and failings.

Now most of us from our own experience, understand that real parents are human – just like their children – and sometimes our relationships are not quite all ‘wine and roses’.

Sometimes we have experienced better relationships with people who are not our birth parents, and the love and guidance we have received from them has been more significant in building and shaping our character and sense of identity.

But today, the father of the prodigal son reminds us of the  love that God has for each of us. A love that really is unconditional, forgiving, and welcomes us with open arms despite our many failings.

A love that is so strong that he gave his only son so that, just like the prodigal son in today’s gospel, we too will be welcomed home with great rejoicing when our time comes.

Today is a day for greetings …. A day for expressions of love.

And it is also a day for remembering.

There are some of us whose mothers or other significant figures in our lives have already been welcomed home as we will one day be – and maybe that was a long time ago for some of us – maybe more recently for others and I’d like us to take a moment now to remember them.

Just take a minute or two and call to mind your mother and those who have loved you – those who guided you, provided for you and cared for you.

Almighty God,

We thank you for those who have cared for us. For those who have shaped our character and those who brought us to know love and acceptance for who we are. We give thanks for those who we love but who we see no more. Rest eternal grant into them and let light perpetual shine upon them.

Amen.

ANSWERS TO FAMOUS MOTHERS

1. Queen Elizabeth II (Our beloved late Queen)
2. Marge Simpson (The Simpsons cartoon)
3. Margaret Thatcher (First UK female prime minister)
4. Victoria Beckham (AKA Posh Spice from The Spice Girls)

On the ‘Feast of the Annunciation’, we of course mark the date nine months exactly before the date of Christmas – when we celebrate the birth of Jesus. It’s customary, even in the middle of the solemnities of Lent to take a break from our acts of penance and celebrate the cause of our joy – the fact that Mary, when faced with a terrifying and awesome task said, ‘Yes’.
But what if Mary had said, ‘No? Indeed, could Mary have said No?
Most of us believe that we all have free will – the power to decide for ourselves. We are not robots or puppets on a string. God does not play with us or dangle us for his pleasure or amusement. We have the freedom to choose.
It’s true that there may be determining features in our genetic make-up, or our circumstances or up-bringing that do constrain us and limit us. But, unless we are undergoing extreme constraint or torture, we have at least some room for manoeuvre – the power to choose. With that power comes responsibility. We must accept responsibility for our own actions. We cannot blame God or our make-up or our parents or our circumstances for the choices we make.
So, surely, Mary was entirely free to say No. It’s almost impossible for us to imagine that she would. So the Church has tried over the centuries to explain why Mary had to say Yes. The Bible tells us nothing of her parentage or upbringing, but long ago the Church identified her mother as Anne and her father as Joachim and decided that they must themselves have been saints. And then some Christians began to believe and teach that God, in order to be sure of Mary’s response, had protected her from the first moment of her conception, protected her from original sin. In 1854, Pope Pius IX declared it as a dogma, something to be believed by all those who acknowledged the authority of the Roman Catholic Church, that Mary was immaculately conceived.
Despite all this, it is important that Mary could have said No. It certainly is important to us, when we think about ourselves and our own relationship with God. How often do we say No to God? And I wonder are we even conscious that we do?
God does not impose himself on us or force us to follow him or to do his will. God prompts us, leads us, even cajoles us to greater love for God and for our neighbour.
God uses the Church, the Word and Sacraments, our friends and families, our experiences, even our environment, and of course the promptings of the Holy Spirit, in gentle and subtle ways, and sometimes in more startling and obvious ways. And how often we say No to him! We see it as our right, our freedom. We are human beings. We have the power to choose.
But, as ever, there is a complication. There is something of a paradox.
I’m sure that you will remember that Jesus said to his disciples in the Upper Room. ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last.’ Jesus also said, ‘Many are called but few are chosen.’
St Paul, at the beginning of his letter to the Ephesians, wrote ‘Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who … chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will.’
How are we to understand this idea that God has chosen us from the beginning, pre-destined us to be his people? Does this mean that we do not really have the power to choose at all, that all the power, all the choice is with God and that our freedom to choose, which we regard as one of the particular characteristics of a human being, is an illusion?
It’s not easy. From our human perspective it is impossible to see clearly or to understand. We cannot see it from God’s point of view.
We do believe that God chose Mary to be the Mother of his only Son, to be the Mother of the Church.
The Church uses the language of vocation, of being called, and many of us have a strong sense of having been called to the life and work we do in and beyond the Church.
But can we be chosen and yet still be free to choose?
Let’s take a wider perspective. We know that our lives are governed by seemingly inflexible rules of time and space. We cannot be in two places at once. And we might be able to think of ourselves in a different time frame from our own. We can look backwards and at least imagine forwards, often with more fear than excitement. But in truth, we are utterly bound by time. Although time can drag and time can speed up in our imaginations, the clock ticks on and will one day take us away. Time and space limit us, rule us. Even though films we see and stories we read present us with notions of time travel and speeding through unlimited space, we cannot at all imagine what life outside time or space would be like.
But God is not limited by time or space. Life beyond this life, eternal life with God, is outside time and space.
God holds all time in the palm of his hand. Just as the last two generations have been privileged as never before to see the earth from a camera on a satellite, so that we can see the world and the galaxy and at least part of the universe from an utterly different perspective from that of earlier generations, with the earth like a small ball in the sky, so God can see the whole of time, the whole of eternity, as one, and knows absolutely what free choices we shall all make. God surely can see the entire spectrum of time and every detail within it.
God does not control us, does not impose himself. But he does already know how in our freedom we shall respond to him. Even so, he still loves us, still persists with us – in the gentlest possible way.
We believe that no one is beyond the power of God’s love. Jesus, born of Mary, Son of God, our human brother, our divine Master, died that all might live, even those who have turned away from God, rejected him and live in despite of him. We have the potential to turn towards God, or to turn away from him, to choose good or evil, or, come to that, to choose neither, simply to bumble along in our own self-satisfaction, turning away from the cries of the poor and the marginalised.
Today we do mark the Annunciation, we do rejoice in Mary’s ‘Yes’, in her humble obedience to God’s will. But tomorrow we step back into the journey to the cross.
Over the next two weeks, as we move closer to Holy week, we remember that in Jesus, God weeps at the terrible and destructive choices human beings make, the choices that cause mothers and their children to flee and leave behind their ‘men’ to fight. But God also weeps at the damaging and sad choices each one of us as individuals makes every day.
In Jesus surely God weeps at the indifference of those who blow neither hot nor cold, who simply pass by.
Indifference
by Geoffrey Studdert Kennedy (amended)
When Jesus came to Golgotha
They hanged Him on a tree,
They drove great nails through hands and feet,
And made a Calvary.
They crowned Him with a crown of thorns;
Red were His wounds and deep,
For those were crude and cruel days,
And human flesh was cheap.
When Jesus came to Inverness,
They simply passed Him by;
They never hurt a hair of Him,
They only let Him die.
For men had grown more tender,
And they would not give Him pain;
They only just passed down the street,
And left Him in the rain.
Still Jesus cried, “Forgive them,
For they know not what they do.”
And still it rained the winter rain
That drenched Him through and through.
The crowds went home and left the streets
Without a soul to see;
And Jesus crouched against a wall
And cried for Calvary.

* Isaiah 55:1-9 * Psalm 63:1-8 * 1 Corinthians 10:1-13 * Luke 13:1-9

I’m sure like me, there will be times in your life when you have heard about someone, maybe even a member of your family or a close friend, who has been struck down with a sudden serious illness or who have been injured in some kind of accident. In the past few months, I’ve met with a twenty six year old young mother who has received a diagnosis of kidney cancer, I’ve shared tears with another mother whose thirteen year old son has lost the sight in one eye following a freak sporting accident and in the last week I’ve prayed for a friend whose brother was killed in a night club shooting.

More often than not, when faced with these sudden and unexpected happenings in our lives, we ask this question.

What did they do to deserve that?

Jesus knew that questions like this were on people’s minds whenever  they came to tell him sad or alarming news. The Roman Governor, Pilate (yes, the same Pontius Pilate who oversaw the crucifixion of Jesus) had ordered that some Galilean Jews be slaughtered. And what’s more, making Pilate’s appalling action even more offensive is that he did this terrible thing while they were offering their sacrifices in Jerusalem.

It’s Jesus who asks the questions on everyone’s minds: Is it because those Galileans were worse sinners than other Galileans that this happened to them? Did they do something to deserve such an awful death?

And it’s Jesus who gives the answer: No.

Or what about when the tower of Siloam fell and eighteen people were killed, crushed because they were standing in the wrong place at the wrong time, is that because they were sinners?

Jesus says no.

Behind all this is a deeper question.

Is God keeping track in some gold-leafed book about who’s been naughty and who’s been nice and whether to respond with earthly punishments or rewards?

The answer is no.

Does God allow tyrants to kill people or tsunamis to drown people because they’ve done something to deserve it?

No.

You might remember the time when some people ask Jesus, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” “Neither.” says Jesus, and he cures the man of his blindness.

Jesus flatly denies any correlation between the man’s problem and someone’s sins.

Yet, it’s a persistent question. And it goes with a persistent assumption, that somehow what people get in life is what they deserve – we’re tempted to think that there must be a connection between the sorts of people they are and the bad or good things that come their way in life.

We’ve heard people say, “I wonder what he did to deserve that?” or make pronouncements, “this plague/natural disaster/fill in the blank is God’s punishment for how they have behaved.”

Jesus clearly tells us that this is not how it works.

Sometimes of course, we do suffer as a direct result of something wrong that we have done, some bad decision, some action we’ve neglected to take and we suffer the consequences. Mistreat your body, and you will get hurt. Mistreat a friend, and you may damage your friendship. The negative consequences of our actions can be clear.

But sometimes we’re confused, not when we can see how a mistake or bad action has led to suffering, but when we’ve been good, when we’ve done the right thing, we’ve tried so hard, and still, nevertheless, we suffer.

As Christians, we really shouldn’t be so surprised when this happens. The idea that only good things happen to good people should have been put to rest when Jesus was nailed to the cross.

Christian faith is no magic protection against tragedy. After all, the cross is our central symbol – the cross, where an innocent man died the death of a criminal.

Nonetheless, Christians have long since wondered why bad things happen to people, even good people. In his book The City of God, St. Augustine considered the great suffering that occurred when the barbarians sacked Rome, and he noted that when the barbarians raped and pillaged, Christians suffered just as much as non-Christians. Faith in Christ did not make them immune to pain and tragedy. Augustine wrote,

“Christians differ from Pagans, not in the ills which befall them, but in what they do with the ills that befall them.”

The Christian faith does not give us a way around tragedy. Our faith gives us a way through tragedy.

So, no, we cannot and must not ever look at tragedy and assume that someone did something to deserve it.

“But,” Jesus says, “unless you repent, you will all perish as they did.”

What kind of a statement is that?

Jesus is not saying that questions are bad or that ‘why’ isn’t a vital human question. Jesus is saying, don’t be distracted by the wrong question. To Jesus, the ‘why’ isn’t important. God made us in love and gave us free will, freedom to choose how to respond, how to act.

In freedom, humans have written symphonies, others have started wars. God made a dynamic world in which natural things change and evolve into beautiful new forms of life, but they also mutate into cancerous cells.

A good question to ask, according to Jesus, isn’t: what did she do to deserve that suffering? The much more important question is: how is your relationship with God? Jesus says that we shouldn’t be distracted by looking at what happened to someone else. We shouldn’t spend our time wondering what someone must have done to deserve what they are going through. Instead, we should look at ourselves – while we still have time.

Jesus refuses to get caught up in the question of whether or not someone else deserves to suffer, and instead asks another question: What in your life needs acknowledging and turning around? What needs to be turned over to God? What needs to be forgiven?

Things will happen. And while the gift of earthly life is still ours, we need to ask ourselves, how is our relationship with God? Do we love our neighbours as ourselves? Are we relieving the suffering of others or just pointing our finger at them and trying to connect the dots between their suffering and the things we consider to be their wrong-doing?

The scandal at the heart of our faith is this – God already loves us;  God doesn’t need a record or tally sheet because we don’t do anything to deserve God’s love. We have no favour to earn, because God already sees us as God’s beloved ones. All we have to do is live and explore the amazing mystery of our acceptance. We can’t lose God’s favour and make bad things happen to us because we don’t earn God’s favour in the first place.

Life is short. Don’t be distracted by the wrong questions. And don’t be disappointed if Jesus asks you to love God more than you love answers. Because Jesus will do that!

* Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18 * Psalm 27 * Philippians 3:17-4:1 * Luke 13:31-35

I wonder if at some time in your life you have every had anyone try to put you off from doing something? Has anyone ever tried to discourage you from continuing on a particular path, or from carrying out your plan or vision for something?

Maybe they warned you that it wouldn’t end well, or perhaps they told you that you were just not capable or good enough?

Or maybe they felt threatened by your presence and abilities and tried to run you down before you got in their way?

I remember, as a teacher in my mid-twenties, signing up to a professional development course for those aspiring to be Head Teachers. One of my colleagues, who I trusted and thought of as a friend and who had encouraged me to apply for the training, went to see my Head Teacher at the time and told her that she thought I didn’t have enough experience to begin the course. This friend of mine had applied for the course a year earlier and had not been accepted. Fortunately for me, my Head Teacher disagreed with her and gave me the reference I needed to get on to the training programme.

I didn’t realise it at the time, but there had in fact been a fox right within my own camp.

In our gospel reading this morning, Jesus also comes up against a fox.

He’s making his way to Jerusalem, stopping along the way in villages and towns to teach people and to heal the sick and just before the part of the gospel that we have read today, Jesus compared the kingdom of God to entering through a narrow door.

And in that hour, as Jesus calls the people to change and struggle to get through that door, the Pharisees approach.

And this next bit might sound rather strange to us.

The Pharisees come to warn Jesus to flee because Herod is looking to kill him – now doesn’t this seem like odd behaviour for them? After all, the pharisees have already set themselves up as Jesus’ adversaries, constantly questioning his practices and beliefs.

They’re usually found looking to trip him up and reveal to others that he is breaking their religious laws. So why would they come to warn him? If Jesus is posing a threat to their religion, why do they appear to be wanting to help him?

And do you know, there is another little problem with this scene. We don’t actually have any indication elsewhere that Herod even wanted to kill Jesus. The biblical text does tell us that he wants to meet Jesus and see him perform one of his signs, but there is no indication that he wants to kill him.

It seems then that these Pharisees that have approached Jesus are either lying about Herod’s intent, or have  somehow been misinformed.

Perhaps they were hoping their warning would be enough to move Jesus out of the land – that he would be scared off and no longer be a thorn in their sides.

There is also the possibility that these Pharisees didn’t have such a harsh view of Jesus. Perhaps these men didn’t have as much of a problem with him as some of the other Pharisees. Maybe they disagreed with him, but were still sympathetic enough to not wish death upon him.

It’s a puzzling little interaction which leaves lots of questions unanswered, but whatever their intent, they surely weren’t expecting the response which Jesus fired back.

They might have thought they could deter Jesus, discourage him from continuing on, but he casts their warning aside and calls out, “Go and tell that fox for me, ‘Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work’”

Herod the fox – Jesus was being rather feisty in his insult.

Foxes were pests. They came into the fields and vineyards and ruined the crops. They’d scavenge through cities that had fallen into ruin. They may have been cunning animals, but they were also destructive nuisances.

A king like Herod would want to be compared to a powerful animal, like a lion that showed strength and prowess. To call him a fox was surely a great insult. But if Herod (or the Pharisees if they’re the ones behind this rumour), think that the threat of death would deter Jesus, then they are all a bunch of foxes, relying on their deceitful and scheming ways to rid their city of this troublemaker.

Their threats of course, wouldn’t stop Jesus. He was going to finish what he came to do and no amount of intimidation or threats would hold him back from continuing on.

Jesus’ harsh and determined response to the Pharisees stresses his confidence in God’s plan and call upon his life.

As the Son of God, he has a mission before him, one which he knows God will carry him through. And along the way to that goal, that completion of his mission upon the cross, there is still work to be done; Jesus still has people to teach and others to heal.

Herod and the Pharisees may think they can bully him in to stopping, but Jesus knows that what he is doing is more important than anything they could throw at him.

Then comes that great prophetic moment when Jesus mourns over Jerusalem for a rejection that is still to come. They haven’t condemned Jesus yet, but they will, and he knows it. They will have a choice to make, to stand by their wicked ways or to come to Jesus.

It’s a city that stands as the centre of worship, the sacred home for Yahweh, and yet again and again they reject the voice of the Lord that comes to them through the prophets of the past – it is a city that kills prophets and it is a city that would do the same with Jesus.

And he understands that future rejection as a present reality as he calls out, condemning and mourning Jerusalem in his prophetic voice.

Jesus doesn’t just rebuke Jerusalem for her rejection of truth, he laments over her wayward ways.

We see that in the description he offers of himself as an animal (or rather a bird).

Herod may be a fox, but Jesus is a hen. He longs to gather the people under his wings as a hen would her chicks, but the people are unwilling to come to him.

The choice of a hen to describe Jesus is a peculiar one and in the face of a fox, it doesn’t seem like a hen would be able to hold up very well.

But let me tell you a true story that I learned when we lived in Yorkshire. Old Eleanor had kept chickens all her life and one day when she was doing the washing up and looking out of the kitchen window, she saw a fox attacking one of her hens in the back garden. Eleanor ran out to the scene, banging a pan with a wooden spoon and scared the fox away. But as she approached the hen that had been attacked, she realised she was too late and it lay lifeless with its wings outstretched. But as Eleanor drew closer to pick it up, she suddenly saw movement in the wings. What had actually happened was that facing a fierce attack, the hen had laid down on top of two little chicks, trying to fend off the fox – and that she did, but of course, the hen herself had paid the ultimate price.

Like the hen protecting her chicks with her body, Jesus too offers up his own body, his life, to protect the world. He shares with the hen in the story a willingness to offer himself, even to the point of death, to care for the ones that have been entrusted to him.

Today’s gospel draws us deeper into Lent, leading us closer to the cross and those final days when Jesus’ mission would reach completion.

And we are reminded by the text of two important things, of two animals we encounter in life, one a fox and the other a hen.

Like Jesus we will face a fox or two in our lives. Whether our fox comes in the form of a person or circumstance or system, we may encounter opposition in life.

It may try to deter us from pushing forward, from continuing on with God’s work in the world. We see this within our own lives and sometimes, regrettably, within the life of the church.

But the foxes, like Herod and the Pharisees, are never in as much control as they think, if we are standing with the hen.

They only have that power and control if we give it to them by succumbing to their sly ways and retreating from the mission before us. It is better to stand beneath the wings of the hen.

Jerusalem had a choice, just as we do, and Christ is waiting to enfold us in his wings and care for us. And while we are beneath those wings, we must grow together in the ways of the Lord; we must come to know the care and commitment, the courage and devotion of the hen that we are to model.

As we are encircled in God’s protective wings of grace and salvation we must come to understand the ways of Christ as we mature, so that when those foxes do appear – sometimes right in the midst of us, we also have the courage to face the challenges before us, to forgive and press onwards as Jesus did.

Together, as a loving christian family, supporting one another on the way, we must be able to continue to love and care for people as Jesus did, sheltering those that come looking for care beneath the wings of our Saviour.

So, this Lent, stay close to Jesus the hen, offering yourself in the same way to others as he did, be part of the new Jerusalem over which there is no lament, as we work together for His kingdom right here, in our own families and in our wider community.

Amen.