Wednesday of Holy Week 2022

 21 After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, ‘Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.’ ²²The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. ²³One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; ²⁴Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. ²⁵So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, ‘Lord, who is it?’ ²⁶Jesus answered, ‘It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.’ So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot.²⁷After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, ‘Do quickly what you are going to do.’ ²⁸Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. ²⁹Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, ‘Buy what we need for the festival’; or, that he should give something to the poor. ³⁰So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

31 When he had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. ³²If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.

 

On the 17^th May 1966, Bob Dylan was performing at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester. He had attracted some controversy, as he had moved away from his acoustic folk origins to embrace electric instruments and played an electric guitar himself. “Judas” shouts a voice from the audience in between songs. “I don’t believe you….. you’re a liar” replies Dylan before encouraging his band to play *expletive* loud.

Judas has become a term for betrayer, which has uses well beyond the Christian community. In fact, there are several Judases in the New Testament, including the brother of Jesus, a disciple referred to as Judas son of James, and 3 more feature in the Book of Acts. That would seem to explain why the New Testament often refers to ‘Judas Iscariot’ or adds a comment about betrayal – to ensure we know who they are talking about.

Tragically, Judas Iscariot has been used in Christian rhetoric to support antisemitism, focusing on him being a Jewish man held responsible for Jesus’ death. (That makes the ‘Judas’ shout at the concert especially barbed, as Dylan is also Jewish.) The truth – as ever with prejudice and bigotry – is of course very different. Jesus and all of the disciples are also Jews, as are the scribes, the Pharisees the priests, much of the early church leadership, as well as the writers of the Gospels. Meanwhile, a Gentile governor sentences Jesus to death, and Gentile soldiers execute him.

However, all good stories need a villain, and Judas does more than enough to qualify for that role. John’s account of these events describes him as essentially the group’s treasurer (adding the detail that Judas stole from the purse for himself). As we heard on Monday, Judas is the one who objected to the apparent waste of perfume used in anointing Jesus’ feet, and today we heard that when Jesus gives Judas bread and he leaves, some disciples assumed it was connected to his role as keeper of the common purse.

So, can we understand anything about this act of betrayal? The accounts of Jesus’ life and ministry in the gospels give us a few clues. Mark and Matthew say he was promised money, Matthew adding that 30 pieces of silver were handed over, whereas Luke and John both describe Satan as being the motivator for the betrayal. I imagine some people might say the two are closely related! Judas leaves the Last Supper and eventually brings back a force to arrest Jesus at Gethsemane where he seems to know that Jesus would be praying. Famously a kiss is recorded as the signal that identifies Jesus, Matthew adding the detail that Jesus calls him “friend”.

Afterwards, Matthew records Judas committing suicide and tells us he repented and gave the money back; Luke in the book of Acts has a more grisly version and makes no suggestion of repentance.

So what was Judas doing? Perhaps he was simply a thief who didn’t really ever properly understand who Jesus was – he is only ever recorded as called Jesus “Rabbi”, not “Lord”. Some have speculated that he was sympathetic to the freedom fighting Zealots, hoping for Jesus to be a figurehead for a popular uprising (like his namesake Judas Maccabeus had led nearly 200 years earlier) If that was the case, we can only imagine his horror as Jesus enters Jerusalem on an ass in peace, or washes his followers’ feet. Perhaps he was more of a religious purist who found it unacceptable that Jesus was so open to “tax collectors and sinners”, to the outcasts and unclean, to lepers and Gentiles unacceptable. Finally at the meal, facing what Jesus’ love was really like, he runs out into the night.

Perhaps Judas points us to just how radical Jesus’ message was, and how Jesus refused to conform to any of the expectations that people might place on him. His revolutionary message was one of peace, not uprising; his preaching was for the lost and the outcast, not the in-crowd; his call for faithfulness was about hearts and minds, not about ritual and dogged adherence to laws and regulations.

And whenever that message is heard, whenever it confronts the norms and expectations of this world, it asks us difficult questions too. Do we want treasure on earth or in heaven? Do we want to believe and trust those with earthly power and might, or one with the power of love? Are we more interested in those who have or pursue status and standing, or are we with the Servant King?

 

 

Monday of Holy Week

 12¹ Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ²There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ ⁶(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’

9 When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ¹⁰So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, ¹¹since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.   [NRSV]

 

One of the slightly odd things about the schedule of Bible readings that we use at this time of year is that most of this passage came up as the Sunday reading on the 3^rd of April. However, that gives us an opportunity to take another look at the reading and explore some different aspects to its message. We also get verses 9-11 as a bonus.

As we saw last time, the centre piece of the reading is when Mary breaks her jar of perfume and anoints Jesus’ feet, and we considered how investing anything in worship – whether time, energy, skills or money and precious possessions makes no sense outside the context of faith. If there were no God, then the accountants (represented here by Judas – sorry if you are an accountant!) would be right. However, if all things come from God, then of His own do we give Him.

So let’s go back and get another perspective. The Gospels suggest that Mary, Martha and their brother Lazarus have been friends of Jesus since before his public ministry began. Unlike disciples (who are friends through becoming followers) they may have known each other since they were young, although that is not recorded. In the previous chapter (Jn. 11), John has reported that Lazarus has been brought back from the dead by Jesus in an extraordinary miracle.

We should remember that women were very vulnerable in that society – often essentially being the possessions of men and depending on them – so it is no surprise that the two sisters were especially distraught when Lazarus died. Not only were they suffering an acute bereavement, but their homes and livelihoods were seriously in question. They were also angry that Jesus wasn’t there. Now, following the raising of Lazarus, all has been restored.

In another incident in Luke’s gospel, Martha is described as the activist and Mary is the one who listens to Jesus (causing tension between them), so it is no surprise that Mary is the one who demonstrates her devotion to Jesus here. She has a very expensive jar of perfume, which may have effectively been an insurance policy. It was something she could sell in an emergency to get 300 denarii (a year’s wages) which could see the family through a difficult time.

Breaking the jar open and using it in this scene means that she is letting go of that potential material security. It is a picture of her saying to Jesus that she places her trust in him over the security she could derive from ‘stuff’. How often do we worry about out material security over and above our spiritual well-being? And note that it is Mary’s to give; she feels empowered to make this extravagant gift and symbol of devotion and love.

Meanwhile Judas is a complete contrast. The Gospels are never going to give him a good press, but John seems especially keen to point out all of his shortcomings – that he would betray and that he had already stolen. But here Judas objects to the valuable perfume being used in this extravagant way. But notice that use of the perfume is not his to decide, and the anointing costs him nothing. I get a sense from this scene that we have a man with little regard for women, who thinks he should decide how they should act. And I think that’s why Jesus’ first response is “leave her alone” to defend her freedom. It’s easy to decide what other people should do when we don’t have live with the consequences or pay the cost. This was Mary’s perfume, Mary’s gift, and Mary’s worship. It was none of Judas’ business.

His defence is to point out that the poor could have been fed, so Jesus responds with the much misunderstood “⁸You always have the poor with you” (John 12:8)

In fact, Jesus’ words come from the Old Testament: Deuteronomy 15:11

“There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore, I command you to be openhanded toward your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land.”

The context makes it very clear that the permanent presence of the poor is not commended or in any way defined; it is a reality. This legislates for generosity and support sitting alongside rules about cancelling debts every 7 years. We should note that this is in the legal code of the Israelites, so it isn’t just a moral lesson for a minority of charitably minded people; it’s legislation demanding a response from everyone with the capacity to do so.

To me, Jesus is saying that there is an ongoing responsibility for all to be generous to the poor that will never go away, and which we have a lifetime to fulfil. Quibbling over Mary’s act of devotion misses the point: the poor are always with you, so always be generous to them.

This was Mary’s moment to show what Jesus meant to here, and furthermore the symbolism of what she did points forward to his burial in the tomb. Luke (23:56) reports that women prepared spices and perfume for the burial of Jesus’ body after he had been crucified, but the Sabbath meant there was a delay in using them, and the resurrection meant they were no longer needed. It is almost as if this moment is an anticipation and almost a substitute for that moment.

Mary is empowered – deciding to use her most precious possession and her insurance to show her trust and love for Jesus, and yet paradoxically also anticipating something that was to come. Judas tries to control her – as men frequently have – and for a range of dubious motives. That reveals his lack of understanding, his lack of grace, and perhaps some clues as to why in the end he gives up on Jesus, whereas the women will be the ones standing at the foot of the cross, staring the pain of it in the face, and tending to Jesus' body in the aftermath.

 

 

 

Reflection for the Wednesday of Holy Week 2021: What was Judas up to?

Today's reflection is a little different. Imagine that Judas left a note behind which tried to explain what he was doing and why. What might it say? We can't know, of course, but there are some hints that might give us some clues. 

Meditation for Wednesday of Holy Week – Judas Iscariot

John 13:21-30

21 After saying this Jesus was troubled in spirit, and declared, ‘Very truly, I tell you, one of you will betray me.’ ²²The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he was speaking. ²³One of his disciples—the one whom Jesus loved—was reclining next to him; ²⁴Simon Peter therefore motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. ²⁵So while reclining next to Jesus, he asked him, ‘Lord, who is it?’ ²⁶Jesus answered, ‘It is the one to whom I give this piece of bread when I have dipped it in the dish.’ So when he had dipped the piece of bread, he gave it to Judas son of Simon Iscariot.²⁷After he received the piece of bread, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, ‘Do quickly what you are going to do.’ ²⁸Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. ²⁹Some thought that, because Judas had the common purse, Jesus was telling him, ‘Buy what we need for the festival’; or, that he should give something to the poor. ³⁰So, after receiving the piece of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.

 

The character of Judas Iscariot is understandably regarded very negatively by the gospel writers, but Jesus himself maintains his relationship with Judas until the end. It is easy to demonise Judas - as the villain of the piece - but life is never that simple. All of us are a mixture of good and bad, and the narrative of Holy Week is full of people with mixed motives. Without wanting to try and justify his actions, I wonder what Judas might have written to explain what he did and why he did it.

They say history is written by the winners. The gift of hindsight gives everyone perfect judgment. So I wonder what they will make of me? Will it be that I was cold, calculating and evil? Will I be seen as unstable, irrational and unpredictable? Misguided, foolish and reckless? Time will tell and I won’t be there to see it.

You know, the biggest surprise was that he asked me to follow him. Simon the Zealot and I both had a bit of a reputation. Simon was very much one of the Zealots. I don’t know if he ever went out on a raid, but they actually do fighting with the Romans. Ambushes, assassinations, and that sort of thing. Terrorists the Romans call them. We call them freedom fighters. I guess it all depends from which side you’re looking at it. And I was known to have some sympathy with that – tired of this Roman occupation.

Anyway he just said ‘follow me’, and we did. We were fed up with the Romans ruling it over us, and we were sickened by the Jewish authorities and their two-faced attitude. Half the time they’re muttering and complaining about the Romans, until they’re handing out jobs, titles and cash and then it all goes silent. Funny that.

But Jesus wasn’t in the pocket of the Romans and he said some hard-hitting things about the scribes and Pharisees. He had integrity, and seemed a bit dangerous, and I liked that.

He wasn’t afraid of confronting the authorities; it was almost as if he looked for the opportunity. But he preached love and peace, and truthfulness. He talked about God as his father and told stories that showed up hypocrisy and stood up for the poor and the excluded. Sometimes he went further than I would with all that.

But I was getting frustrated. When would the revolution start? We had 5,000 men in a field, literally eating out of his hand – that’s an army. The Sermon on the Mount – they were ready to go. But no, there was no call to take what is rightfully ours.

It was when he entered Jerusalem that I cracked. Riding in was fine. The donkey was a nice touch – a conquering king coming in peace. And he turned over the tables. That’s more like it. Now, strike, I thought. Then he says render what is Caesar’s, render to God what is God’s. Looked like compromise to me.

I decided to force his hand. So I went to the authorities, took their stinking money and arranged to bring them to him at the crucial moment. I thought then he would finally get it and yell fight. But at the meal, he knew. He could see right through me, although the others hadn’t a clue. He shared bread with me – we dipped it in the same bowl, and he just told me to do what I had to do.

In the end I couldn’t take it, so I left early, brought the guards to him when he was praying, and they arrested him. “Put down your sword” he said to Peter. No bloodshed even then.

So here I am, with it all falling apart around me. I just wanted to make something happen, but not this. I threw the silver back at them, but it didn’t ease my conscience. Not that the other cowards are any better – Peter even lied about not knowing Jesus, at least I didn’t.

They say he’ll be crucified tomorrow. I don’t want to live to see that – I’ve made arrangements. What still rings in my ears is the last thing he said to me; the last thing he called me. Of all the words he could have used, only this one could pierce my heart. 

He said “friend”.

Reflection for The Tuesday of Holy Week 2021: Glory and Light

Tuesday of Holy Week 2021        John 12:27-36 (NRSV)

²⁷ ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸Father, glorify your name.’ Then a voice came from heaven, ‘I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.’ ²⁹The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, ‘An angel has spoken to him.’ ³⁰Jesus answered, ‘This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹Now is the judgement of this world; now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²And I, when I am lifted up from the earth, will draw all people to myself.’ ³³He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die. ³⁴The crowd answered him, ‘We have heard from the law that the Messiah remains for ever. How can you say that the Son of Man must be lifted up? Who is this Son of Man?’ ³⁵Jesus said to them, ‘The light is with you for a little longer. Walk while you have the light, so that the darkness may not overtake you. If you walk in the darkness, you do not know where you are going. ³⁶While you have the light, believe in the light, so that you may become children of light.’

 

We had the first part of this passage on Passion Sunday– strictly speaking we should have had both sections at both services, but I split them and used half on each occasion to avoid a repetition.

I expect we have all had moments in our lives when we have wanted to escape whatever lies ahead. However, none of us will have faced a challenge on the scale of what Jesus faced before his trials and crucifixion. The scene has some parallels with the story of his baptism, told in the other gospels – Jesus resolves to do what he knows his Father wills, and a voice from heaven affirms him. This time it is not his identity as God’s Son that is being affirmed; it is what he is embarking upon.

I want to pick up on 2 words in this rather mysterious account: glory and light. As we saw yesterday, John’s gospel regularly uses the word ‘glorified’ to refer to Jesus being crucified, which on the face of it is rather strange. Is it glorifying death, or suffering, or even setting off on what must have looked like a suicide mission? Clearly that is not what is meant, although Jesus is conscious that the outcome will result in his suffering and death.

In the Old Testament, the glory of God was a shining presence which human beings were not usually permitted to see. In the book of Exodus, Moses meets with God on Mount Sinai to receive the law, and when he comes down, he is recorded as still having a kind of residual glow, such that they veil him for a while until it calms down (Ex. 34:29-35). He has spent time so close to God, that something of God’s glory has lingered with him. Glory and God’s presence are very closely related ideas here. If God is present, then his glory can be discerned, and it has a powerful effect on those who encounter it.

Of course, in the person of Jesus, people were encountering the presence of God all the time, and not necessarily knowing it. What Christians call the Incarnation – God fully present in Jesus – means that the presence of God was focussed in a special way, not in clouds on mountains or in sanctuaries and shrines, but wherever Jesus went. And in John’s gospel, that presence of God becomes evident in a way that impacts people at the very moment you would not expect – at his crucifixion. That’s why John records Jesus on two occasions (3:14 and 12:32) referring to being “lifted up”. Here he speaks of that drawing people to himself, earlier it is so that all who believe may have eternal life. And that is why the passage uses the term glorify – at that seemingly God-forsaken moment when Jesus is on the cross, God is actually most present, his glory is most on display, and He is working out his purposes in the world. There may not be flares of light, but that presence will transform and impact people. We might compare Mark’s gospel recording that the centurion in attendance says “truly this was the son of God”.

And I think that is important to carry into our lives too. We might feel tempted to think that God is most present in churches or sanctuaries, or in times of worship and prayer wherever they are. He is, of course, present there, but he is also present in the street, the refugee camp, the soup kitchen, in people’s homes, even in the workplace. Perhaps the lesson here is that he is also very present when people suffer, even though they themselves might perceive God as very distant or even absent.

Related to that are Jesus’ references to light. The glory of God had been perceived as light, but now he points to a more inner quality. He dares to speak of himself as the light of the world, and that light coming into the world works as a kind of judgment. When you shine a light on a situation, you reveal the truth about it. For some that is welcome; for others it is something to fear – and that is precisely what happens with Jesus in Holy Week. The powerful elite are threatened by his truthfulness about them, about God, and about himself.

It might seem surprising that Jesus also tells his disciples that they are lights for the world. The light (which is actually the source of true life that shines in his life) can even be perceived in those who follow him. Sometimes when I’ve been driving on the motorway – or over the moors to East Riding crematorium, my car gets pretty grimy. The lights sometimes need bit of a clean to stay efficient. Our light is often obscured too – with our own concerns, our own fears, our own agendas, our own selfishness. But Jesus encourages us to believe in the light that we may become children of light. Staying with him means something can rub off on us – rather like Moses’ face glowing in the days of old.

I have known a few people where, despite all that life had thrown at them, some light still shone in their faces. The light of Jesus isn’t a protection or insurance from the difficult challenges of life, but it is a reassurance. Not just a comforting word, but an inner strength that can sustain and carry us through thick and thin, if we stay open to receive his light. And I think that’s what happened with the people I think of  - the light shone into and through them, and by doing so brought light to others.

May we receive the light of Christ this week, and may we be clear enough lenses for others to receive light from us. Amen.

Reflection for the Monday of Holy Week 2021: Will the poor always be with us?

 

Monday of Holy Week 2021        John 12:1-11

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ²There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ ⁶(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’

⁹ When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ¹⁰So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, ¹¹since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus. (NRSV)

 “You always have the poor with you” says Jesus to Judas in response to his complaint about the extravagance of Mary’s perfume being used to anoint his feet. Some people have suggested Jesus is being complacent about poverty. There’s even a song called Stand Up for Judas by Leon Rosselson and Roy Bailey that suggests he had the right idea. A lot of Christians would find that idea offensive, but more importantly than my feelings; it completely misses the point of this passage.

The scene is the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus who we know are friends of Jesus. They are close friends, such that Jesus is recorded as weeping when he hears that Lazarus has died and then famously raises him from the dead. And the authorities clearly thought Lazarus was close to Jesus, as they planned to execute him – as if he hadn’t been through enough already. In this home setting, Mary gives this precious perfume to Jesus. It is hers to give, and she does it out of love and devotion to her friend. Perhaps there is also a suggestion of worship here too. The key point is that that the gift isn’t Judas’s to give – he wants to exercise control over something that isn’t his, and suppress the generosity of one friend to another. And, according to John, it was all hypocrisy anyway, as he had his fingers in the till. He was syphoning off funds for himself.

But there is also a problem with Jesus’ answer: “The poor are always with you” Is that how things have to be? Is Jesus saying we should be resigned to that? For example, there’s a verse we no longer sing in All Things Bright and Beautiful:

“The rich man in his castle,
The poor man at his gate,
God made them, high and lowly,
And ordered their estate.”      Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander (1818-1895)

That suggests our social standing is ordained by God; we should be content with it.

No. In fact Jesus is quoting from the Old Testament – from Deuteronomy, one of the books of the Law:

 “There will always be poor people in the land. Therefore I command you to be open-handed towards your fellow Israelites who are poor and needy in your land”.  (Deut 15:11)

It is a command to be open-handed, generous in spirit and in action. It is not suggesting complacency at poverty, but a communal obligation to be open-handed and not tight-fisted in the face of a poor neighbour. This was not just a plea for action by charitably minded individuals – it was the sacred law of an entire community, it was to be the culture of a community, and Jesus reminds them of it.

Why? Why at this point. Well, Jesus is moving towards a very different act of generosity at the end of the week. He will give himself up to arrest, a rigged trial, cruelty and abuse, and finally a terrible execution on the cross. He will do it voluntarily, because he knows that the gift of his life is the way God’s love and reconciliation is to be manifested in the world. He will absorb rejection, hate, spite, and even death in the belief that ultimately love can triumph over it all. Offering up his life for the world will be an immeasurable act of generosity, and so he affirms someone else pouring out their most precious gift for him and asks for that spirit to be manifested here with his friends to all.

So, I won’t stand up for Judas here, although we will come back to him later in the week. He didn’t understand what was going on here. And Jesus isn’t calling for the status quo to be maintained; far from it. Instead, he calls for a world where everyone is open-handed, where generosity is the hallmark of everyone’s thoughts, aspirations and action. That’s what the church – the community that claims to follow him – ought to be like. 

I wonder what holds us back?

 

Washing Hands and Feet - Thoughts for Maundy Thursday

Washing Hands and Feet - Thoughts for Maundy Thursday

John 13:1-17;31-35

13¹ Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. ²The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas son of Simon Iscariot to betray him. And during supper ³Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, ⁴got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. ⁵Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. ⁶He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ ⁷Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ ⁸Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ ⁹Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ ¹⁰Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ ¹¹For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’
¹² After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? ¹³You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. ¹⁴So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. ¹⁵For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. ¹⁶Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. ¹⁷If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

³¹ When he had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. ³²If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. ³³Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, “Where I am going, you cannot come.” ³⁴I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. ³⁵By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’  [NRSV]

Washing has become very topical in these last few weeks. The advice is that spending at least 20 seconds washing your hands thoroughly with soap removes contamination. So, wash your hands before and after going out or any contact with others or the outside world. It’s taken on the nature of good or virtuous behaviour; some soap and water could save a life – either yours or someone else’s. This is not entirely new, of course. Hospital wards have had signs up about hand washing or using sanitiser for years to control infection, and those of us involved in pastoral visiting will be very familiar with that. Going further back, many of us will remember when we were children being reminded by our parents to wash our hands after every trip to the loo, stroke of a pet or play in the garden. In the story of Holy Week – the events leading up to the crucifixion of Jesus, there are two stories of washing; one of feet, and one of hands. They have a very different significance and meaning, yet they both help to explain something of what is unfolding.

The Last Supper is the setting for the washing of feet. It was a task usually assigned to slaves, and always done by someone understood to be of lower status than the recipient of the washing. But here, Jesus takes the responsibility for himself. This episode occurs before Judas leaves the meal (v.30) and so we might assume that even he was included in this.

It’s a remarkable act, turning social conventions upside down – as Jesus often did. He behaves in a way that is entirely in keeping with a man who eats and drinks with ‘sinners’, speaks with lepers, touches the sick, champions Samaritans, tells us to prioritise children because they understand, and heals people on the Sabbath.

However, if that isn’t enough, we need to remember that when we’re reading John’s gospel, nothing is just face value. When Jesus washes the disciples’ feet, he is looking ahead to the purpose of his mission, and the meaning of the death he is about to face. Somehow in the mystery of all that the crucifixion means, there is a true washing and cleansing. The power of the selfishness, guilt and shame that plagues humanity and mars our relationships with God and each other is about to be broken. Receiving that is going to feel a bit like having Jesus – the most important person in the room – washing your feet. Finding forgiveness and healing can be a process that involves awkward moments, embarrassment and unease. Yet it is ultimately the true liberation we all need.

Little wonder, then, that Peter protests. He also protested when Jesus was much more explicit about what was going to happen – that he would be arrested, tried, executed and then rise again (Mark 8:31-33). Subconsciously, perhaps Peter has made that connection. However, when Jesus says it’s important, Peter characteristically overreacts and asks Jesus to wash more of him. It’s a comical moment in what is otherwise a very serious episode. It’s not about how much of the water in this bowl you get, Peter, it’s about the much bigger themes that it points to.

This washing symbolises Jesus taking responsibility for doing what is necessary for reconciliation and forgiveness to be achieved, and he accepts that will be at a great cost. The contrast with Pontius Pilate’s bowl couldn’t be starker. “Washing your hands” of a situation has entered our language as shorthand for someone refusing to take the responsibility, the consequences and the cost of a difficult decision or action. Pilate’s public action is his attempt to disown the decision of the mob to crucify Jesus, but we know he can’t. Only the Romans can execute and he is the governor, so the responsibility remains his, whatever he does with a bowl of water.

One bowl is a vain attempt to disown a decision, as a result of fear of the crowd and losing face with the emperor. It’s a face-saving and expedient manoeuvre to try and maintain a façade of peace. The other bowl is a costly act of service, symbolising a genuine cleansing of sin and its consequences, fully embracing the pain of the way of service, and taking on the full responsibility of what the fulfilment of that action will require. This is Jesus rejecting the way of power, preferment and status that Pilate is so locked into. 

In the next half an hour, most of us will wash our hands – and for good reasons. Try making it a moment for prayer and reflection as you take responsibility for the safety of yourself and others. Use it as a moment to think about Jesus washing his disciples’ feet, his commitment and love for all of them – even his betrayer. Take a moment to give thanks for the cleansing and reconciliation he chose to bring – and at what cost. Pray for all those in positions of authority, influence and power – who like Pilate might be tempted to do what is easy and expedient, rather than what is difficult and right. And pray for those you seek to protect by washing your own hands – those who are vulnerable, those who work in our health services and need us to keep the demands down, and also and particularly for all who are suffering, and those who grieve as a result of this pandemic.

One Of You Will Betray Me

Wednesday in Holy Week: One of You Will Betray Me

John 13:21-32 [English Standard Version]

²¹ After saying these things, Jesus was troubled in his spirit, and testified, “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” ²² The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. ²³ One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at table close to Jesus, ²⁴ so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. ²⁵ So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” ²⁶ Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I will give this morsel of bread when I have dipped it.” So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. ²⁷ Then after he had taken the morsel, Satan entered into him. Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.” ²⁸ Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. ²⁹ Some thought that, because Judas had the money bag, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the feast”, or that he should give something to the poor. ³⁰ So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night. ³¹ When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him. ³² If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself, and glorify him at once.

We have all been let down by someone, sometime. Perhaps we have been let down by family, or by our friends, or by people we looked up to, or by politicians we voted for, or by our employers, the education system... However, when it’s an individual, and especially when it’s someone close it really hurts. When it’s someone you placed your trust in, and shared something of yourself with them, then it’s hard. It leaves you with a sour taste in the mouth that won’t quite go away. You start asking questions like: “Was our friendship ever genuine? Were they just playing me along to get something? Was I fool to place any trust in them?”

There’s no escaping the fact that it is painful. Experiences like that leave us questioning our own judgment and our own decision-making. Could I have done something differently? Could I have seen this coming?

In today’s gospel reading from John, we hear about Jesus being let down by Judas. To make matters worse, Jesus isn’t just failed by Judas, his friend actually colludes with the authorities in order to facilitate his arrest. It may be that Jesus had seen it coming, although we can’t be sure. It may be that he sensed Judas’ loyalty waning, that he perceived the discomfort, following the moment Judas had agreed to betray him to his captors. But Judas had also spent 3 years with him, sharing his life, teaching, healing, supporting and challenging. Did those years not count for anything? Had they not made any difference?

It's significant that Jesus gives bread to Judas. To share bread is a sign of hospitality, openness and welcome. It says to the person that they are part of the group, they are connected, and that they should make themselves at home. It’s remarkable that Jesus, probably suspecting the worst, shares his bread with Judas. What the Bible describes as Satan entering Judas is perhaps better understood as a reaction against this invitation. Satan means accuser, and at this moment, faced with the guileless, authentic and costly love of Jesus, it may be that Judas felt accused by his conscience, by what surrounded him, and all he could do was go and carry through what he had started. He could no longer bear to be in the presence of this goodness and hospitality.

We can’t know what Judas’ motives were. John’s gospel seems convinced that it was simply financial and driven by greed. Others have pointed to some circumstantial evidence that Judas was close to the Zealots – the freedom fighters who occasionally carried out guerrilla attacks on their Roman occupiers. They suggest that Judas might have become disillusioned with Jesus, disappointed that he chose not to lead an uprising that would oust their earthly rulers and restore a new kingdom of Israel. Some have suggested that Judas was trying to force Jesus’ hand into taking such action. We can’t know – all we do know is that he enabled the authorities to find Jesus and it ended in crucifixion for Jesus and suicide for Judas.

But before we demonise Judas, we should remember the others who stayed at the meal. Sooner or later, they would all disappear and hide, leaving the one they claimed to love and follow to his fate. Peter tries to see what is happening, but with a flurry of denials also disappears into the night, and only John is present with the women who attend the crucifixion. They all let him down in the end.

And yet, and yet, it is to this group of misfits and failures that Jesus entrusts these precious moments. It is to these people that he gives a new commandment; it is their feet he washes; it is to their memory that he commits the words “do this in remembrance of me”. He chooses to depend on them to tell the story of his life, teachings, miracles, death and resurrection for future ages.

We all let people down. We all let ourselves down. We all let Jesus down. But what he calls his glorification, which is actually his tragic death, is strangely and paradoxically his clearest statement that these failings can be overcome. This is not achieved by self-justification, or by argument, but by love and forgiveness. In the midst of witnessing Judas leaving the room, and knowing the other disciples will eventually leave also, Jesus looks out of the page at us. It is as if he is saying that nothing, not even betrayal and denial, is stronger than his love for us, and nothing can separate us from that love.

Monday of Holy Week 2020: Jesus at the home of Lazarus, Martha and Mary

John 12:1-11 

Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ²There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. ³Mary took a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard, anointed Jesus’ feet, and wiped them with her hair. The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume. ⁴But Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples (the one who was about to betray him), said, ⁵‘Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?’ ⁶(He said this not because he cared about the poor, but because he was a thief; he kept the common purse and used to steal what was put into it.) ⁷Jesus said, ‘Leave her alone. She bought it so that she might keep it for the day of my burial. ⁸You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me.’9 When the great crowd of the Jews learned that he was there, they came not only because of Jesus but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. ¹⁰So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, ¹¹since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.  
[NRSV] 

Affection and loyalty come in many different forms. Worship manifests itself in diverse styles and manners – some effusive and outgoing, some practical and down to earth. Our Gospel scene lays out before us a spectrum of responses we might find in any gathering of people – what we might find in us. 

First we see Lazarus –a man who has just been through an extraordinary experience. He is Jesus’ friend, and we know he much he meant to him. In the previous chapter, John tells us that Lazarus died, and when Jesus eventually came, he wept at the entrance to the tomb where he had been buried. Despite the hopelessness, the emotions and the terrible smell of decay, Jesus restores his friend to life. And now, having had a little time to recover, in return Lazarus offers hospitality a few days before the Passover feast – the greatest party in the Jewish year. We might think that it was the least he could do, and in his culture it would have been expected, but this is not just a token gesture. All of Jesus’ followers were welcomed and accommodated and fed, which was no small thing, and yet for Lazarus it expressed his friendship and loyalty. 

Of course the hospitality isn’t just Lazarus’s to give, although he pays the bills. His sister Martha, ever the practical one, has made a meal. She was the one, when Lazarus died, who had told Jesus that he was late and that he could still do something about it. She liked action. She is always busy in the kitchen - sometimes too busy, as Jesus once observed. It’s true that on some occasions the busyness was an escape, an excuse to keep out of the way and avoid getting too involved. It was a useful distraction from things she didn’t want to think about. But today, for her, it was important that other people had the chance to share time, conversation and food without worrying about where it’s coming from. She prepares, she cooks, she clears away without complaining, and without really being noticed by most who are there. For her, these simple acts of practical service are her expressions of love. Today she’s serving Jesus, and her brother and the others there, but she’s listening, eavesdropping, taking it in. 

And we are also told that the disciples the disciples are all there. They are a funny lot. Some of them seem pretty rough - especially the fishermen. Some have clearly had a little more education, especially the one who used to be a tax-collector. And then there were one or two who were difficult to get near. Judas was an enigma. He was always around, but was restless, edgy, frustrated, impatient for something. It was just hard to know exactly what. On occasions it was even hard to know why he was there at all, but something continued to draw him to Jesus.

And then in the midst of it all there is Mary. She’s the one sitting at Jesus’ feet. It was a familiar place for her. She had been sitting at his feet learning, when her sister had reproached her for not helping. She had knelt at Jesus’ feet to plead with him to save her brother. She was always more emotional and demonstrative than sensible, practical Martha, so people expect her to be a bit more showy. But this time she still manages to shock everyone with what she does. In her hand is the most precious thing she owns – a jar of nard – the perfume of the lovers in the Song of Songs.  She has kept this safe for all of her life, ready for the most special of occasions. As she cracks it open, the room is overwhelmed with the extravagance of the perfume. As she puts it on Jesus’ feet, it seems to permeate every place it can find, however tiny and compact. Nothing can escape its blessing. For Mary her gift is pure worship – her most precious possession given to the person most precious to her. And she shocks the room with the intimacy of letting down her hair to wipe Jesus’ feet. 

But not everyone wants the blessing. Not everyone shares her devotion. Not everyone understands that love expresses itself in illogical, disproportionate, and even outrageous ways.  Judas looks on, disapproving, making excuses, failing to comprehend that love’s gifts don’t work by a set of accounts or the weighing out of gold or silver. Instead he complains about the extravagance, to divert from his own holding back. He points to the needs of the poor, when he’s been more concerned about his own needs, and although he’s intrigued and connected to Jesus, he doesn’t really understand what he’s up to. He just doesn’t get it. And because he doesn’t get it, he’s annoyed by those who do, and he’s annoyed by how they express it. 

I wonder whose eyes we have as we imagine this scene: 

• Is it practical Martha? 
• Is it hospitable Lazarus? 
• Is it disapproving Judas? 
• Or is it Mary, the one open with her emotions?

We’ve probably felt something in common with each of them as we pictured the scene. Perhaps today we can find a little time and space to reflect on how we bring our worship to Jesus, and also to reflect on the fears, the misgivings, and the inhibitions that hold us back.

Palm Sunday: The Little Boy's Story

A couple of years ago, I wrote a monologue for Palm Sunday evening. It was written from the point of view of a child who witnessed Jesus' entry into Jerusalem. I thought it would be appropriate to share it again here today.

Matthew 21:1-17

The Little Boy's Story

He was good with children. It’s a few years back now, but I remember him as vividly as if it was yesterday.

The first time I saw him was early on – everyone seemed to be talking about him. It was very exciting. One day, my parents took me to see Jesus. I had been ill as a young child, apparently, and they wanted Jesus to bless me. I guess they thought it might protect me from any further problems. We got quite close. There was a little group of us who were kids, and I expect we were making a little bit of noise. He looked at us, and there was a delight in his eyes to see us, and I trusted him completely. We were so excited, but then a few of his followers told us to be quiet and go away. “The teacher isn’t here for children”, they said.

That’s when I first heard his voice, strong and clear, but with a kindness I can’t quite describe. “No!” he said in a loud voice that made everyone jump. “Let the children come to me, and don’t you dare stop them. My father’s kingdom belongs to people who follow me and trust me like children do. Learn from them.” After that, I’m sure he took extra time to talk to each of us and bless us. His disciples looked really shamefaced.

When we heard that Jesus was coming into Jerusalem just before the Passover Festival, we had to be there. Early in the day, my dad took me to the road into the city, quite near the gate. And we waited at the roadside with great excitement – I think my dad was as excited as I was.

You could hear the crowd coming a mile off. “Hosanna! Hosanna!”, people were shouting. They had cut down palm leaves and had put branches and their cloaks in the road. People were singing and dancing and celebrating, and we all got carried away with the atmosphere. My dad and I managed to slip into the procession just a little bit behind Jesus and we followed him up into the city. It was as if Jesus was my hero – I felt like I would have done anything for him at that moment.

The first thing Jesus did was head up to the Temple, and the next thing we knew all these people were rushing out – carrying bags of money and cages of birds. “They’re all crooks”, said my dad “about time they were taught a lesson.” Jesus was looking angry – a bit like he did when he told off his disciples about the children. “This should be a place for prayer, but you’ve turned it into a place to steal from people seeking my Father”, he shouted. But I wasn’t scared, because I trusted him. In fact, I thought he was brilliant.

We sneaked in, and there were some more children there, and we soon made up a song and sang it about Jesus. The grown-ups in the Temple were a bit like the other ones – they complained about us. But Jesus spoke up for us again. “These children are singing the truth”, he said. “Sometimes children can hear God much more clearly than you who think you know so much.”

While he was saying this, he caught my eye for a moment. I saw the kindness I had known before, even a little of the delight, but I was shocked to see something else. There was a sadness in his eyes too, a pained look that mean I knew something was wrong. Something bad was going to happen. It was the look people have when they say goodbye to go on a long journey, not knowing if – or when - they will return. I had no idea then what would lie ahead – how could I? I was just a child. But I could see what he was feeling, and for the first and only time it made me a little bit scared. Not of him, but for him.

He needed his friends more than ever, but despite all the people round him, he seemed lonelier than I had ever seen him. He was starting something only he could do, and all I could do was treasure the memories I had and watch and wait to see what would happen.

“Come on”, said Dad, “we’ve a Passover to prepare”. It would be one I would never forget.

Holy Week & Easter

Holy Week involved meditation on the wounds of Jesus,  so on Good Friday we had 5 prayer stations reflecting those themes. Thanks to Sue for ideas and materials.

His back

His head

His Hands

His feet

His side

No photos of Maundy Thursday, but we set up a table in the sanctuary and sat around it, sharing communion in a meal-like setting and passing communion to each other. 

On Good Friday we put out cocoons that Junior Church had made, but on Easter Day they reappeared complete with butterflies emerging to show the new life of the resurrection.

Meanwhile the teams have been very busy with flowers, Easter garden, new Paschal candle and all the trimmings to make the whole building speak of new life.

It been a very exhausting but very rewarding week!

Lent Blog 24: Good Friday

Working on the calendar that includes this part of Holy Week as Lent, this may be the final Lent Blog.

This week has been exhausting, but also very engaging. Following a busy Palm Sunday - 8,10,baptisms @12,confirmation class and choral evensong, we launched into Holy Week. Monday-Wednesday were simple communion services, featuring meditations on characters from the passion story led by Sue. We sat together around the communion table, and as a visual focus we borrowed the 'rugged cross' from St Martin's Chapel at University of Cumbria, Lancaster. It was a different experience for all of us, as that kind of meditation hadn't been used in a communion before, and the communions had had a homily in previous years. Congregations were good - ranging between 24 & 28, which is encouraging.

Maundy Thursday was a new challenge for me - I had to wash feet for the first time. I realised that all my previous experience of Maundy Thursday had either focussed on the initiation of communion by Jesus, or had tried to capture something of Passover. This was the first time I had got on my knees to recall the 'mandatum novum' - the new commandment to love one another as Jesus had loved us. I felt strangely nervous beforehand, but it was a very good experience. Afterwards we stripped the sanctuary and just left the rugged cross bare in the centre.

Good Friday had two very different acts of worship - an all-age service, which featured a trial of some characters around the Good Friday story, and then this afternoon, we spent a couple of hours thinking and praying through the seven things Jesus said from the cross. Risked a bit of Peter Gabriel at the end - not sure what everyone made of it, but they are generous people who indulge me!

One or two folks wanted to know what the music was, so here's the list:

1) Benedictus from The Armed Man by Karl Jenkins (faded out at about 5:15 before it gets v loud)
2) Main Theme from Schindler's List (RPO)
3) Adagio for Strings by Barber. I used a rare version, where it is played by a string quartet. Much more emotional, but also more bare and appropriate.
4) Requiem aeternum from Rutter's Requiem.
5) Father, Son by Peter Gabriel.

There were also a couple of Good Friday hymns in the mix for congregational participation.

Completely washed out now, so resting up ready for 6-30am Sunday morning on the Prom.

Holy Week Advert

Ok. It's my blog, so I can use it to plug services if I want to! We started Holy Week with a very special communion and meditation last night, and the programme continues:

Tue (today)/Wed
We will be sharing again in communion at 7pm. Instead of a sermon, the Gospel reading will be incorporated into a meditation. The evenings will flow from each other, although each will work as a 'stand-alone'. We'll be sitting around a specially prepared visual focus in the sanctuary area.

Maundy Thursday
7-30pm will be remembering Jesus' new commandment to love one another at a special communion service. It will include washing feet, and will end with the altar and sanctuary being stripped.

Good Friday will have two services:
10am our all age will put 3 characters on trial - Peter, Judas and Pilate, but an innocent man will be sentenced...
1-3pm, we will reflect on the words Jesus speaks from the cross.

Easter Day:
6-30am (!) sharing with other churches at a short service by the yacht club jetty, followed by hot cross buns at the Memorial Hall
8am Holy Communion (1662)
10am Parish Eucharist