Easter Sermon: Forgiveness is risen from the grave

Sermon. St Michael and All Angels, Little Ilford, 27 March 2016

Easter Day

Gospel: John 20.1-18

This is from the Easter Homily of St John Chrysostom:

'Are there any who are devout lovers of God?
Let them enjoy this beautiful bright festival!

Are there any who are grateful servants?
Let them rejoice and enter into the joy of their Lord!

Are there any weary with fasting?
Let them now receive their wages!

If any have toiled from the first hour,
let them receive their due reward;

If any have come after the third hour,
let him with gratitude join in the Feast!

And he that arrived after the sixth hour,
let him not doubt; for he too shall sustain no loss.

And if any delayed until the ninth hour,
let him not hesitate; but let him come too.

And he who arrived only at the eleventh hour,
let him not be afraid by reason of his delay.

For the Lord is gracious and receives the last even as the first.

He gives rest to him that comes at the eleventh hour,
as well as to him that toiled from the first...

First and last alike receive your reward;
rich and poor, rejoice together!

Sober and slothful, celebrate the day!

You that have kept the fast, and you that have not,
rejoice today for the Table is richly laden!

Feast royally on it, the calf is a fatted one.
Let no one go away hungry.

Partake, all, of the cup of faith.
Enjoy all the riches of His goodness!

Let no one grieve at his poverty,
for the universal kingdom has been revealed.

Let no one mourn that he has fallen again and again;
for forgiveness has risen from the grave.'

*

Do you get it? If you are used to church and the Bible, you will get it, in that you will get the principal references. The parable of the workers employed at later and later hours in the day and all paid the same, and the story of the prodigal son which ends with the feast with the fatted calf.

But I mean more: do you get it? Do you get the point that all are welcome. You are welcomed. You are welcomed to Gd's celebratory party.

If you have kept Lent well, here is your reward. If you tried, but life and stuff intervened, no matter. You are welcome to the party. If you tried, but failed abysmally, no matter. You are welcome to the party. If you didn't even try, no matter. If you want to be here, you too are welcome to the party.

And this is important. This is our faith. We know – don't we? - that the impression that the church and religion in general can give is one of judgementalism, of being judgemental. It is felt that we have a clear sense of what it is to be good, and if people fail at all, we judge them, dismiss them, damn them, shun them.

Today, against that, we hear the truth of our faith: 'forgiveness has risen from the grave'.

Now, Christians do talk of sin (including at baptisms), because what we do counts with Gd. As I said on Good Friday, Gd does not treat us as infants who could do no better. But it is always-but-always sin in the context of forgiveness. Always, all we have to do is seek Gd's forgiveness – seek it sincerely; we cannot manipulate Gd – to find it is already with us. Forgiveness rises from the graves we make of our own lives.

Now, if our neighbours think that we or religion in general are about judgementalism, it would be perverse if we in turn judged them for it. No, we forgive them. And we wait, patiently and prayerfully, for the time when they see something – something - in our lives that suggests it is not so, when they realise we are all about hope, grace and forgiveness. And then (and perhaps only then), we can invite them to the celebration.

Divine forgiveness in Christ means more than a declaration of pardon. Christians have always known that Gd is Gd, that Gd can issue words of pardon whenever and however Gd wills to. But forgiveness in Christ means the fulness of reconciliation that only comes from the reconciler spending time with the reconciled, each coming to value the other's company. It might even be said that this reconciliation makes for a stronger relationship than was there before the estrangement. (We'll be hearing more about this throughout Eastertide.)

This is the life-giving message we are today sharing with Kaiam. As Gd welcomes us to the party, at each and every point in our life, so Gd's clear welcome today clearly goes out to Kaiam. And we give our sincere thanks to Andy and Chantelle for bringing him here to join us.

Not that Kaiam has anything to be forgiven. But, you know (I whisper it) at some point, he will. And that's when he too can - and by Gd's grace will - know that what he did wrong does count with Gd, as he counts with Gd, but that forgiveness is his. His forgiveness rises from the grave.

Something not wholly different is happening in this morning's gospel. Mary Magdalene experiences Jesus with power and perspicacity in the midst of her achingly deep grief. When? You know when. It's when he calls her name. Mary. This is not accidental or incidental. You see, out of all the chaos we make of our lives from time to time, because of wilful sin, negligence and fear, and for that matter because of ordinary human clumsiness and failure, Gd speaks our own name, and new life is possible.

A baptism isn't actually a naming ceremony. They don't have to, but if the minister does say, 'name this child', that isn't some solemn naming ceremony. It's really just saying, 'let me make asbolutely sure I get this right'. That said, the candidate is named in a baptism. You cannot normally be baptised without your name. So we rightly speak of baptismal names. The love that rises from the grave speaks our name. With Gd it is never not personal. Alleluia!

Indeed: Alleluia [signed]!

Today is called the Solemnity of Solemnities. And that is right. But it does not mean it is 'solemn' as in serious, grave and dull. On the contrary, it is the greatest occasion for joy. If we cannot be joyful, because of circumstances in our lives, we do what we can to be oriented towards joy. For today's Alleluias go all the way down. It is the day for shouts and dances of joy.

And if we are not quite ready to be a church of shouts and dances (I don't know... are we?... let me see whose eyes I can catch...), we can, in any event, bring our bodies into our thanks, praise and rejoicing.

Thus... remember... [signing]

Alleluia. Christ is risen!

He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Let us now say together the end of that Easter sermon of St John Chrysostom. Each sentence begins with 'Christ is risen!' I invite you to join in.

'Christ is Risen, and you, o death, are annihilated!
Christ is Risen, and the evil ones are cast down!
Christ is Risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is Risen, and life is liberated!

Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead;
for Christ having risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

To Him be Glory and Power forever and ever. Amen!'

The Sublime Message of John: Gd Likes Us!

Sermon. All Saints, Forest Gate. 9 August 2015

Trinity 10 (Year B)

John 6.35, 41-51

We begin in the middle. That's how Dante begins his Divine Comedy (it's a good read). But it is also where we are. I come to you as guest for the first time, and both you and I are already in the middle of our stories. In particular, we are both in the middle of hearing (whether for the first or for the thousandth time) Jesus in the sixth chapter of John's Gospel. Jesus is giving us some sustained reflection on himself as the Bread of Life.

We are not at the start. We have already heard, a couple of weeks ago, of the 'Sign' that Jesus performed – the miraculous feeding of thousands. And we have heard already that Jesus has linked this to the divine provision of Manna, bread from heaven, to the People of Israel in the wilderness. But we are not yet at the end, or even the climax. In particular, we have yet to hear the most shocking thing that Jesus has to say. Only next week do we hear Jesus say (do come back and check that I'm right): 'unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink his blood, you have no life within you'.

So, we are in the middle, but where is that? Where are we? We are, we might think, in a place of great encouragement. For in today's passage Jesus makes big claims about himself, and offers good things to those who come to him. It bears repeating. Jesus says:

'I am the bread of life. Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty... I will raise that person up on the last day... whoever believes has eternal life... This is the bread that comes down from heaven, so that one may eat of it and not die... Whoever eats of this bread will live forever.'

All of this bears repeating because Jesus himself is so repetitive: to come to Jesus, or be drawn to Jesus by the Father (which is the same thing), is

• to be one who is to be raised up,
• to live forever,
• to have eternal life.
  And all this is so, because Jesus is the Bread of Life.

But if that's the good news, the bad news is that we cannot indefinitely put off the question: 'Yes, but what does it mean?'

There is one thing, I have to suggest, it cannot mean. It cannot mean what it seems to mean on the surface. It cannot mean that those who come to Jesus do not die, that they, in the most plain and straightforward sense, live for ever, live as if they were mortal, but in fact are indestructible. Both at the times Jesus lived and spoke, and at the time John the Evangelist wrote things down (and ever since), those who were followers of Jesus died, of natural causes and also in tragedies and through violence, just like those who were not the followers of Jesus. (Think about it: if those first Christians didn't die, we can be sure we'd have heard about it. Indeed, if those first Christians didn't die, they themselves would be around to tell us about it!) Christians are mortal, every bit as mortal as non-Christians. Whatever it is to 'live forever' because of Jesus, it does not mean that we escape that very natural, everyday, necessary process of dying, of ceasing to function as a biological organism. No. Not that.

And so we are forced – and that, not because we are wishy-washy or feeble in faith, but because we take words and truth seriously – forced to say that 'life forever', or 'eternal life' may well include entrance into heaven after death, but if it is also for now (and Jesus says also now), then it includes a quality of life in this mortal (death-prone) life, Jesus offers a life-giving quality to our life.

Actually, the Greek also may nudge us to think more in these terms. The Greek for 'eternal life' is 'zoe aionios', meaning literally 'life of the age'. This might indeed mean 'life of an impossibly long period of time' and so for practical purposes the equivalent of never-ending life. Or it might mean - by implication, not literally - 'life of the age to come'. The life of the time/space/reality where Gd's purposes are consummated, where our peace, justice and celebration all abound, where, even if we are on earth and not in heaven, things on earth are as they are in heaven.

Let us think of the contrast Jesus makes. 'Your ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died' we have heard Jesus say (and he repeats it). Now, this does not, absolutely cannot mean that the Manna was poisonous! No, the Manna is Gd's gracious gift to the people in the wilderness [see Ex 16]. It did indeed come down from heaven, and to rely on and enjoy the Manna is a mark of proper dependence on Gd, a mark of trust and faith. So – heavenly rather than poisonous. And yet, Jesus seems to be saying, it only worked to keep people alive at some levels, and not at others. It does not have the quality of eternity, of the 'aionios' about it.

That is how many commentators would describe things – and myself, probably, until I came to reflect on it again in anticipation of today. There is ordinary, mortal life, which, sure, for the people of faith, includes miracles too. But then there is extraordinary life offered by Jesus, which, sure, still means that people die, but which infuses life with the quality of heaven. The choice is between life wholly on earth (good) and life on earth but also with a foretaste of heaven (better), life of eternal value and worth.

But perhaps things are not that simple.

It is true that the Manna was not poisonous. Rather it was a gift from Gd. But neither is its story an entirely happy one. Gd gives the Manna not because people have with great devotion prayed to Gd. No, rather, the people have just let out an excessive, sulky complaint, and not to Gd but to Moses and Aaron (as if they were in charge). They say this:

'If only we had died by the hand of the LORD in Egypt, when we sat by the fleshpots and ate our fill of bread; for you have brought us out into this wilderness to kill this whole assembly with hunger.' [Ex 16.3]

In other words, it is part of the people's misplaced murmuring and moaning against Gd's action, forgetful of Gd's liberating grace. And preachers may not say this very often, but look it up in Exodus and beyond - for all their complaining, the generation which came up out of slavery in Egypt did all die in the wilderness (apart from Joshua and Caleb alone). So, yes, the Manna is a miracle from Gd. But because of the circumstances around it, it is also associated with something like divine punishment. 'You ancestors ate the manna in the wilderness, and they died.'

So can we say that the bread of life, the bread which brings 'eternal life' is what it is, because it is free of any sense of Gd's punishment; it is forgiveness, pure? That the life of the age to come is (is, actually is) reconciliation is surely a central message of John's gospel. Think about it. It is in John that we hear most of Jesus' resurrection appearances (to Mary Magdalene, to the male disciples gathered, to Thomas, to the disciple fishing, and to Peter).

He speaks to whom? To those who betrayed him, who denied him and ran away, and... he encourages them, eats with them, and breathes the Holy Spirit on them. He challenges them, yes. But nowhere does he condemn them. And more: nowhere actually does he call on them to repent or say sorry for their betrayal (that must have come later). He is simply with them, as a friend who has come back to his friends, because his friendship was that strong. (It is also in John that Jesus says: 'I call you friends'.) So our reconciliation comes through Jesus who enjoys our company, our companionship, enjoying breaking bread with us (which is what 'company' and 'companionship' mean).

No doubt many sermons being preached at this very moment will be saying that John

Chapter 6 is about the eucharist, the Lord's Supper, communion, mass, even though there is no mention of it, explicitly, in the text. I don't know about that. (Really: I do not know.) But... I do trust that the eucharist, as it has come to be, makes sense - and lives out the sense - of the life of the age to come as seen in the resurrection of Jesus.

We meet Gd first of all not as judge, and not even as teacher, doctor, therapist (or whatever), but as a friend who comes to his friends, and will stick with his friends, because his friendship is that strong. Even more simply put: 

Gd likes us! 

We are in the middle of that life-giving story, now. Now, how can be take the story on?

Amen.