Preferring Nothing to Christ

1 Peter 5:5-14
Mark 16:15-20

When we celebrate the feast of St Mark the Evangelist we celebrate the gifts of a storyteller. What we read on the printed page had its origins in an oral culture. The early Church preserved in writing the memories and stories which shaped their identity. If you were a well-to-do host in Graeco-Roman society you might pay a ‘gospeller’ to come and perform a Gospel for your guests.

Hearing a Gospel performed in one sitting has a big appeal for me. Mark’s brisk style would lend itself to this very well. Some of Mark’s favourite phrases are ‘immediately’ and ‘at once’. Jesus is a man of action. Through the actions and words of Jesus Mark announces that a new era has dawned. This is the era of Good News.

As a Christian community we still tell and retell our story. It is in the telling and retelling that we begin to learn who we are.

Bring to mind the significant stories in your life.
Thank God for those who have been storytellers in your life.

Romans 5:1-5
John 15:18-21

‘These sufferings bring patience, as we know, and patience brings perseverance, and perseverance brings hope, and this hope is not deceptive, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts by the Holy Spirit which has been given us.‘

In certain circles on Twitter there was discussion as to how far we should follow the principles of the liturgical calendar, when this year that means celebrating St George on the 24th rather than the 23rd. If we look below the surface a little we can easily find some solid ground. The transferring of a feast is the Church’s way of keeping the celebration of the Resurrection front and centre. Liturgically we are now in our third week of celebrating the triumph of life over death, of hope over despair and love over hatred.

St George enters our liturgical landscape as one who embodies the dynamic of the Paschal mystery. His ability to empty himself and to offer his life in the cause of love and truth mirrors Christ’s own self-emptying. Legend gives St George a particular place in our collective psyche. And its this place which is unnerved when his feast is transferred. I think there is a good case for seeing the celebration of the Third Sunday of Easter as a prelude to celebrating St George.

Whatever we might think about the way in which St George has been co-opted into harmful right wing ideologies, his memory remains of one who was ready to have God’s love poured into his heart. This was the source of his chivalry and bravery.

When are you most aware that God’s love has been poured into your heart?

Acts 2:14,22-33 
1 Peter 1:17-21
Luke 24:13-35

Did not our hearts burn within us as he talked to us on the road and explained the scriptures to us?

This is the second time that we hear the Emmaus story in the season of Eastertide. We heard it first on Wednesday in the Easter Octave. There is so much to ponder in this text that I sometimes wish that we could hear it several days in a row.

So many of the Gospel stories operate on several levels. The stories have their place in the overall structure of the Gospel and then when used in the liturgy another layer of meaning is added. When both or one of these layers of meaning touch our own story, a new level of meaning is opened up. I see this dynamic most clearly with the Emmaus story.

We’ve become accustomed to the journey metaphor being used in many areas of our lives. There is an implicit understanding that certain sorts of situations require a mental and physical journey. We have learnt the wisdom of the process of the journey being as important as arriving at the destination. The Emmaus story offers us an outer and an inner journey. When we hear the text we are invited to make both journeys too.

Denis McBride has deepened my understanding of the dynamic at work here. He sees many strands in the journey:

from without to within,
from confusion to understanding,
from death to life,
from hopelessness to hope,
from blindness to recognition,
from absence to presence,
from Jerusalem to Jerusalem,
from separation to community.

Read through the Gospel story. Where do you find yourself on this journey?

John 6:16-21

In just 5 verses the writer of the Fourth Gospel has given us a window into a whole theological world. The story of Jesus walking on the water comes just after he had fed the 5,000. For the hearers of this Gospel the resonances with the Exodus story may well have been clear. Just as God fed the Israelites in the long years in the desert, so too Jesus feeds the people. Assured of God’s providence, in the dark of night, the Israelites were led to freedom as the waters of the Red Sea parted and they reached dry land. God is master of the waters. As night is falling, Jesus is master of the strong wind and rough sea and is able to walk on the waters to his disciples. The people of Israel were left in no doubt that God has acted. The disciples, however, are afraid and need reassurance: ‘It is I. Do not be afraid.

In my youth I attended a charismatic prayer group and loved this simple song:

Here comes Jesus, see Him walking on the water,
He’ll lift you up and He’ll help you to stand;
Oh, here comes Jesus,
He’s the Master of the waves that roll.
Here comes Jesus, let him take your hand.

Both the Gospel text and this simple song invite us to recognize Jesus when he comes to us.

Picture yourself in the boat. How do you respond to Jesus when he says: ‘It is I. Do not be afraid.’

John 6:1-15

In his book. Eating Together: Becoming One, Tom O’Loughlin examines the many ways in which meals feature in the Gospels. He lays alongside the Scriptural story our human experience of gathering and sharing food. He suggests that there is a particular grammar at work in meals. When we invite people for a meal the understanding is that everyone will eat. In the event of there not being enough food it would be usual for the host and or family to hold back. We know this grammar, it doesn’t have to be taught.

John’s Gospel begins with a celebratory meal for a wedding at Cana. The unthinkable happens and the wine runs out. Jesus intervenes. The grammar of meals is intact. The Gospel also ends with a meal, this time on the shores of Lake Tiberias. Jesus, the host, has already provided bread and fish and to this he adds fish which the disciples have caught. The grammar of meals is certainly intact.

Today’s Gospel text is a meal on the grandest of scales. Miraculously those five loaves and two fish feed a multitude. There can be no doubt, the grammar of meals is intact. In John’s schema this miracle shows Christ’s glory and is the prelude to the lengthy Bread of Life discourse. For us the story is heavy with meaning. We hear the Eucharistic resonance as Jesus takes, gives thanks and shares.

How can you be open to the Eucharist resonances in the meals you share?

John 3:31-36

Today we move from the story of Nicodemus meeting Jesus by night to the scene of John the Baptist in the Judean countryside. Nicodemus is set before us as a figure who seeks clarity in his confusion. John the Baptist is a figure of absolute certainty. I can sometimes be unnerved by John the Baptist’s certainty. Nicodemus has had formal training in the understanding of Torah. John the Baptist’s background is much less certain. Both men have had their consciences stirred by Jesus. The Gospel text today echoes the themes of Nicodemus’ conversation with Jesus.

‘He who comes from above is above all others: he who is born of earth is earthly himself and speaks in an earthly way. He who comes from heaven bears witness to the things he has seen and heard, even if his testimony is not accepted; though all who do accept his testimony are attesting the truthfulness of God, since he whom God has sent speaks God’s own words: God gives him the Spirit without reserve.’

When you hear this read there is a sharp contrast between what is ‘earthly’ and what is ‘heavenly’. We are used to this contrast and perhaps accept it quite readily in the context of the Liturgy. In our day to day lives the distinction is much less clear. The point that is being made is that Jesus is ‘from above’ and if we want to identify closely with the Messiah, we too must be ‘born from above’. While the choice to be ‘born from above’ was made for us at Baptism, it is our daily choices that open up for us eternal life in the here and now:

‘Anyone who believes in the Son has eternal life, but anyone who refuses to believe in the Son will never see life: and the anger of God stays on him.’

These are strong words.

How can you choose eternal life today?

John 3:16-21

‘The Son of Man must be lifted up
as Moses lifted up the serpent in the desert,
so that everyone who believes may have eternal life in him.
Yes, God loved the world so much that he gave his only Son,
so that everyone who believes in him may not be lost
but may have eternal life.’

We’ve met this text already in the Fourth Week of Lent. The second half of the quotation is probably one of the most well known in Scripture and its meaning is clear. The first half of the quote however is rather obscure. It refers to a story recorded in Numbers where the people were being bitten by snakes, Moses fashions a bronze serpent, holds it up and whoever looks upon it lives. Whatever we might think of the likelihood of this happening, the point the evangelist is making is about healing and our need of it. Jesus is presented as the one who brings healing through suffering and glory. The Jesus of this gospel is in control, goes resolutely to his death and then is ‘lifted up’ on the cross. His weakest physical moment is the moment of his triumph.

From our vantage point of Eastertide we might hear this text a little differently. The tone of our liturgy, the décor in our churches and signs of spring in our gardens can all shed a ray of light and hope on these words. During Lent we’ve been shown the cost of discipleship and now in Eastertide we are invited to live this with Joy. We will never be able to side step suffering, but in the light of Easter we know it can be transformed.

Where have you seen this transformation in your own life?

Acts 4:32-37
John 3:7-15

‘The whole group of believers was united, heart and soul; no one claimed for his own use anything that he had, as everything they owned was held in common.‘

This is a touchstone text for anyone who wants to explore living in community. Living in a way which expresses unity is something which we can all aspire to. There are of course many ways to do this. No one way perfectly embodies this text.

This vision of the early church is something which inspired St Benedict in the Sixth Century. Chapter 34 of his Rule is entitled ‘Distribution of Goods According to Need’. He quotes Acts 4 and makes the very important qualifier:

‘Whoever needs less should thank God and not be distressed, whoever needs more should feel humble because of his weakness, not self important because of the kindness shown him.’

Benedict understands human weakness and knows that ‘one size fits all’ will not work in monastic living. I take heart from this. Accepting where you fall on this spectrum is an important part of the inner journey in monastic life.

How does Luke’s vision inspire you today?

John 3:1-8

From Monday to Wednesday of this week the Gospel texts come from the encounter between Nicodemus and Jesus, in Chapter 3 of John’s Gospel. When we enter the world of John’s Gospel we enter a special world: there are broad themes of life, light, love and glory; there are words and images that signify particular ideas; there are rhetorical devices which can guide the reader.

In today’s section John 3:1-8 we learn that Nicodemus ‘came to Jesus by night’. Darkness and night symbolize untruth and lack of knowledge. Nicodemus is confused and he is seeking. Jesus is speaking of the Kingdom of God and of how entry into it requires becoming a child of God. Nicodemus is firmly fixed in the earthly realm and can’t understand what Jesus says.

‘You must be born from above.
The wind blows wherever it pleases;
you hear its sound,
but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going.
That is how it is with all who are born of the Spirit.’

Jesus honours Nicodemus’ questions but when he replies he adds another level of theological depth. Nicodemus is being challenged to recognize Jesus as the new teacher. There is in built confusion as the word ‘above’ can also mean ‘anew’ and ‘again’.

From our vantage point of Eastertide when we hear this passage the themes of new birth and the Spirit are perhaps uppermost in our thoughts. There’s no confusion for us. We might also hear the passage with some baptismal resonance. While we might not share Nicodemus’ confusion, we can share in his desire to seek Jesus out and to ask the questions closest to his heart.

Imagine yourself going to Jesus by night. What would you most like to ask him?

John 20:19-31

There’s nothing worse than being with a group of people who are talking about an experience that you haven’t had. There’s only so far that you can go in trying to understand what they are saying and feeling. It’s easy for me to understand how Thomas might be feeling when the disciples say that Jesus has risen and that they have seen him. I feel I have a lot in common with Thomas. I am more at home with things that are enfleshed and concrete than theories and abstractions. It has always struck me that Jesus says to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here; look, here are my hands. Give me your hand; put it into my side. Doubt no longer but believe.’ this is as much a challenge as it is a comfort. Thomas now has the choice to live in the light of the resurrected Christ or to walk away and find a different path.

I love these lines from Godhead Here in Hiding and they always come to mind when I hear today’s Gospel.

I am not like Thomas, wounds I cannot see,
But I plainly call thee Lord and God as he:
This faith each day deeper be my holding of,
Daily make me harder hope and dearer love.

Whether we need concrete assurance or are happy to take things on trust, the invitation is the same: live in the light of the resurrection.

Let’s pray that as Eastertide unfolds we can find ways to ‘harder hope and dearer love.’