THE EASTER SERMONS

MAUNDY THURSDAY

This evening we follow Jesus Christ in a very particular way. We re-enact his actions in washing the feet of his disciples. And we obey his command to share bread and wine together, his body and his blood.

We are coming to the end of the story which began with the birth of a child in Bethlehem. Emmanuel, God with us, has indeed been with us, walking the dusty roads of Galilee, healing the sick, casting out demons, feeding the hungry, drawing together a group of followers who are to continue his ministry and pass on the Good News to the whole earth.

Here is a small group of friends, at supper together when their teacher gets up , removes his outer garments and kneels before each one, tenderly washing their feet.

Peter’s reaction shows how highly unusual Jesus’ action was. Walking the dusty roads left people with very dirty feet. It was customary for them to be washed, but by a very lowly servant indeed. Teachers didn’t wash their pupils’ feet, Masters didn’t wash their servants’ feet. A wife might, as a very special act of love wash her husband’s feet, but a husband wouldn’t lower himself to wash hers!!! But Jesus sweeps aside all that protocol.

The foot washing is of course, highly symbolic. It demonstrates service, Jesus humbling himself to serve, an example and reminder of our own call to serve each other. St John expands on this theme ‘I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love one for another.’ That’s our calling. And that’s how the early church grew, by demonstrating love so that others were drawn to find out more about what inspired those early Christians and through them came to know themselves the love of Jesus Christ. We’re called to follow this example, not for our own sakes, but for the sake of those who do not yet know God’s love.

And the washing reminds us of our baptism, the sacrament by which we become members of Christ’s church. Jesus reminds us that though we are baptised only once, we still need our feet washing from time to time, as we come to the Lord and confess the actions which have not lived up to our promise of discipleship. Just as Jesus washed his disciples feet, making them clean once more, so he washes away our sins and misdeeds, giving us a fresh start, each and every time we come to him and say ‘sorry’. That’s the service he still carries out for us, lovingly cleansing, making fresh again.

And on this night, sharing a last meal with his closest friends he gives us another sacrament, a meal, another sharing. He takes ordinary things, bread and wine, and makes them extra-ordinary, his body and his blood. Part of our loving service to each other is to share the bread and the cup. It’s to come together as the people of God in this place and proclaim his death in the confident expectation of his final victory.

So both actions of this final meal, the washing of feet and the sharing of bread and wine are to give us a pattern to follow, loving service to each other and the sharing of the sacrament. And both are done not only for our own benefit, but also for the sake of others outside our community. So that our friends and neighbours will know that we are Christ’s disciples; to proclaim Christ’s death until he comes in glory. These actions both build up our community and are integral to our mission as Christ’s disciples in the world. It’s through these actions that others are drawn into their own relationship with Jesus Christ.

St Theresa of Avila summarised our calling in these words:

Christ has no body now on earth but ours
No hands but ours,
No feet but ours,
Ours the eyes through which he is to look Christ’s compassion to the world;
Ours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which he is to bless men now.

GOOD FRIDAY

I’ve been reading a book by Richard Harries, formerly Bishop of Oxford, in which he charts the depiction of the Passion in art.

For the first few centuries Christians didn’t draw or paint or sculpt the crucifixion at all. They used symbols instead, The Greek letters Chi and Rho, intertwined representing the first two letters of Christ in the Greek alphabet, or fish, recalling Christ’s teaching that the disciples would become fishers of men, or an anchor to show a safe haven in the storm of life. But a crucifix, no. Why not? Well, quite simply, because a crucifixion was such a revolting spectacle and the one who was crucified was a scandal, someone to be hated and vilified. Crucifixion was an instrument of torture, of social control, a warning from the Roman authorities not to step out of line or else. So, although the early Christians proclaimed the crucifixion, they stopped short of depicting so dreadful an end.

Once the Roman emperor Constantine had been converted to Christianity, crucifixion was abolished. And gradually artists started to portray Christ on the cross. But they depicted him whole and triumphant, the victorious Christ, on the cross, but glorious. That again was a sign of the times, theologians were heavily involved in the debates concerning the exact nature of Jesus Christ, human or divine or both. Only once those debates had settled down, the creeds drawn up, the acceptance that Christ was both truly human and truly divine, could artists start to depict realistically the real events on the cross.

Some of the most moving crucifixes, inspired often by the Franciscans, show a very human Jesus, in terrible agony on the cross. This truly is God with us, enduring all the pain and suffering that can come to humanity. They speak loudly of what the cross is all about, what it does for us. Here is God, loving us so truly and so deeply that God is prepared to live our life, share our sorrows and our sufferings, suffering even to the point of torture and death.

There are other crucifixes which move us deeply, those that show the tree of the cross sprouting branches and leaves and flowers. They remind us that out of the horror of death comes the joy and hope of new life, they point to the resurrection.

And one of the most horrific paintings of the crucifixion, a modern one, in Richard Harries’ book is by Stanley Spencer. It is set in Cookham High Street. Two men gleefully hammer in the nails, while Mary lies spreadeagled at the foot of the cross, a school boy ties one of the two thieves tighter to the cross bar and spectators look out of the windows of their houses to see what’s going on. It reminds us of our responsibility for the crucifixion, of how we all too easily collude with the violence that put Jesus on the cross.

So here, this afternoon, we have an opportunity to venerate the cross, to thank God for all it does for us, to kneel at Jesus’ feet, accepting his Lordship of our lives, perhaps laying before him our weaknesses and failings. It’s a very physical sign and symbol of our great thankfulness, of our love and adoration for the Lord who lived with us, shared our sorrows, died for us and who gives us his peace.

EASTER SUNDAY

Mary Magdalene is one of the best loved saints. She goes to the tomb weeping and sorrowful, expecting to perform one last act of love for her beloved friend. She comes away full of joy announcing the stunning news to the disciples ‘I have seen the Lord’.

There are two strange things about this first encounter with the risen Christ. First, it is a woman who has this encounter, a woman who is sent to be a witness to the disciples, a woman who is the Apostle to the Apostles. And as if that’s not bad enough in a patriarchal society where women were seen and not heard; she’s a woman with a troubled past. We are told in Luke’s account that Mary Magdalene had seven demons cast out of her by Jesus. So she had been a woman with profound health problems, almost certainly with profound mental health problems. That makes her doubly marginalised. Yet here, at that moment when Jesus fulfils all the scriptures, when he shouts loud and clear to all the doubters ‘I told you so’, it is the marginalised to whom he entrusts this message. And that’s a message of hope to all those who feel themselves to be on the margins of society. This is not a closed club for the spiritual elite, this is Good News for all.

The second strange thing became apparent as I was reading ‘The Passion in Art’. As well as charting the changing images of the crucifixion, Bishop Richard Harries also comments on a number of paintings which go under the title ‘Noli me Tangere’, the latin for ‘Do not touch me’. These paintings depict the scene related in our Gospel reading. And they highlight a puzzle in that account. Why did Jesus tell Mary Magdalene not to touch him?

It wasn’t because his body couldn’t be touched, we know that because Thomas, doubting Thomas, actually puts his fingers in the nail holes and his hand in the spear wound. No, Jesus is real all right, he is truly the risen Christ who is victorious over death itself.

So why when he allows Thomas to make sure that he is physically present does he command Mary Magdalene not to touch him? The clue, I think lies in the reference to the ascension. Jesus will only be around physically for a little while longer. This is a transition period, he will come among the disciples unexpectedly and then leave them just as unexpectedly. At the end of 40 days he will no longer be physically present to them at all.

So Jesus’ words to Mary are a warning. His relationship with his followers is about to change. No longer will they have the reassurance of his physical presence. No longer will they be able to turn to a Jesus physically present and ask for advice and help.

In a sense they are about to have to grow up. They’re going to have to draw on their experience of living with Jesus, and their memories of his teaching to decide how to live as his disciples after the ascension. There will, of course be help. The Holy Spirit will come upon them at Pentecost, the Spirit will work within them, helping them bring forth the fruits of the Spirit. And Christ himself will dwell in their hearts. But, this experience of the presence of God in their lives will be very different from their experience so far.

Living life as a Christian post resurrection, is not always easy or straight forward. We have to learn to listen with an inner ear to the voice of God. We have to fine tune our consciences. There are, of course some tried and tested methods. The more we read and meditate on scripture the closer we will come to the mind of God. The more we bring our lives before God in prayer, not simply telling our hopes and fears but also listening for God’s voice, God’s response, God’s help, the more attuned to God’s way of doing things we will become. The more we share with Christian friends the more we will have our views and ideas more truly shaped to those of Christ. The Desert Fathers promoted the spiritual discipline of revealing ones thoughts to a wise elder. Such an elder would be able to tell whether the disciple was thinking and acting in a truly Christian way. The elder would dispense good advice about how to grow more into the likeness and image of Christ. These days we might us a spiritual director or a soul friend for such a purpose. In a sense these people stand for us in place of Christ, as they help us become more Christ-like.

This is what it looks like to be a Christian post resurrection. And it really does work. Look at the transformation of the disciples in those days after the resurrection. That cowed and fearful group, meeting in secret, becomes a group who are inspired to share the Good News out on the streets in the synagogues and even in the temple itself. In the days leading up to the ascension, they serve a different sort of apprenticeship. They learn with Mary Magdalene not to cling onto Christ physically, while still holding fast spiritually. They are ready to receive the Holy Spirit and then to go out and tell the Good News to the whole world.

And that’s our post resurrection task as well, to declare by our lives as much as by our words that this Jesus who was crucified, dead and buried is now risen, alive and victorious over sin and death.

Rev. Penny Sayer

Curate, St John the Evangelist, Pevensey Rd, St Leonards on Sea