Category: Sermons

Is your faith @ the crossroads?

The Text: Mark 8:31-38  sign1

To be at the crossroads is a figurative term, meaning that we have arrived at a critical intersection in life where the direction chosen will have profound consequences for the future, just like arriving at an unmarked or unknown intersection and having to decide which way to go.

“Is your faith at the crossroads?” That could well be a question Mark’s Gospel poses for us today. The disciples were at the crossroads that day when Jesus taught them that it was necessary for him to suffer many things, be rejected by the elders, chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise again.

Up until this point there has been a breath-taking succession of miracles in which Jesus’ divine powers are on display. He had cast out evil spirits, miraculously healed lepers, the blind, the deaf, and the chronically ill, and exercised mastery over creation. Jesus has triumphed over every opposition, even showing that he has authority over death itself, with the raising of Jairus’ daughter. Just before today’s text, they had just confessed Jesus to be the Christ.

How suddenly they had arrived at the cross-roads! Jesus makes the astonishing claim that he must suffer and die, one that smacks of failure, defeat, and compromise of God’s mission. How can suffering and death possibly happen to the One who is the agent of salvation? How can Jesus succumb to the very forces that he’s just overcome? Surely there will be peace for Israel and earthly grandeur and triumph for Jesus, certainly not terrible suffering and being killed!

For Peter, things really seem to be at the crossroads―if Jesus goes ahead with whatever crazy plan he has, it will be the end of him! What’s he thinking!?!? So Peter wants to set things straight. It’s not too hard to picture him putting his arm around Jesus, gently ushering him aside and speaking firmly in his ear―our text says that Peter rebuked him. We don’t know exactly what words, but in effect perhaps something like: “Um…Jesus, let’s just get things straight. You’re the Messiah. Messiahs don’t suffer. Messiahs don’t die. Messiahs take control. Messiahs are victorious!”

But Jesus gives a rebuke of his own to Peter: “Get behind me, Satan, for you do not care about the things of God but the things of men!” And having called the crowd with his disciples he said to them: “If anyone wants to follow me, they must deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life on account of me and the Gospel will save it. For what will it profit a person to gain the whole world but to have lost their soul? Or what can anyone pay for their soul?”

Peter has to deny himself―deny his understanding, plans and schemes of what should transpire next. He has to deny his own reason and listen to what Jesus has just said: that Jesus must suffer many things, be rejected by the elders, chief priests and the scribes and be killed, and after three days rise up. With the benefit of hindsight, we know that this was the very way that Jesus did triumph. The cross was Jesus’ throne where he conquered sin, death and the demonic realm before triumphing with the greatest miracle ever: rising from the dead. Jesus has to go to the cross. It is necessary that he experience the valley of the shadow of death so that he can die the death that should have been ours.

Jesus must die. But what’s more, Jesus calls those who follow him to die as well. He called the crowd with his disciples and said to them: “If anyone wants to follow me, they must deny themselves, take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life on account of me and the Gospel will save it”. Jesus is not only talking about his own suffering and death but now talking about all of his followers losing his lives! It’s in this context that Jesus talks about bearing our crosses. This metaphor of taking up one’s own cross is not to be made into an exhortation merely to endure any kind of suffering patiently. Often we talk about “everyone having a cross to bear” when we think about those who are ill or having some kind of trouble in their life.

Jesus isn’t meaning this at all. He is talking about taking up our cross and following him. He carried his own cross as he walked to Golgotha to be crucified. To die. When Jesus is talking about us taking up our cross and following him, he is calling us to follow him to death too. To die to ourselves. Which is nothing other than what daily living in our baptism means, just as Paul says in Romans 6: “What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life.” Luther says this means that the old Adam in us, together with all sins and evil desires, should be drowned by daily sorrow and repentance and be put to death, and that a new person should arise daily to live in righteousness with God forever.

That’s what Jesus means by denying ourselves, taking up our cross and following him. Jesus is not merely calling us to endure discomfort, but to put to death that within us which is in complete contradiction to God’s love; that which is inconsistent with what he commands. “If anyone wants to follow me, they must deny themselves, take up their Cross and follow me”.

Dying doesn’t sound so good, does it? All of a sudden, then, we are at the crossroads. Maybe we should skip over this text and fast forward ahead to next week. But Jesus won’t have it. Like Peter we are challenged by Jesus to make an either/or decision: who is to be your Lord and master? Is it to be yourself or is it to be Christ? Jesus goes on to say: “Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life on account of me and the Gospel will save it.” We’re there at the cross roads. It doesn’t sound a popular message. A life without carrying the cross seems very attractive.

But if you stop and think about it, so can dying to the self and following Jesus. For what does that look like? It means letting God be God over our whole lives, rather than the parts of the lives we invite him to be. It means no longer running to the idols we cling to for comfort whenever we are anxious or hurting. It means freely forgiving others rather than using our anger in the wrong way by clinging to bitterness and un-forgiveness. It means no longer comparing ourselves to others or trying to win their approval but comparing ourselves to Christ and resting in the approval God already has for us in him. It means no longer trying to justify harmful thoughts, actions, or things we do or failed to do but handing them over to him as we rest under God’s Word. It means choosing to be gracious and compassionate to others because everyone needs grace and compassion. It means speaking well of everyone in the kindest way possible so that reputations and emotions are not damaged.

Today, Jesus stands with us at the cross-roads. Are we going to follow him? Are we going to live according to every word that comes from the mouth of God, or only those that don’t trouble us too much or place heavy demands upon us?

Jesus’ challenge to us to take up our cross and find our life by losing it is a heavy demand. It is hard law. But the good news is that Jesus has done it for us. The good news is that his cross is the very power to do what we would otherwise be powerless to do ourselves. Let us all say that our faith is at the cross roads―walking on the road under the shadow of Jesus’ cross, as he takes us by the hand. As we follow him we walk behind the One who carried his cross for our sakes. Only his cross-bearing can empower the cross-bearing he calls us to endure. Only his death and resurrection can enable us to die to the old Adam in us and rise to new life. As he brings his death and resurrection to life in us personally through his word and sacraments we are indeed freed to lose the world and its ways and even our own as Jesus strengthens us in faith and living that faith out in loving service to others.

It is for this very reason that Jesus came into the world. No one can give anything in exchange for their soul. No one except God, who paid the price to make you his very own, alone, by giving up his only Son. He took up his cross, walked to Golgotha and was crucified so that his shed blood would purify and free you from all your sins. He joined you to his death and resurrection in your baptism, where he washed you clean and forgave you all your sin, poured out His Holy Spirit on you to give new birth and to consecrate you for life and service with Him. Rejoice that you are at the crossroads. For everyone who bears their cross is marked by it as a follower of Jesus and everyone who follows to the Cross follows also to the empty tomb and the ascension into heaven, where riches greater than all the earthly kingdoms await you from your Heavenly Father. Amen.

‘Peter the Brave’

1 Lent

John 13:36-38; 18:10-18, 25-27pastorm

We all wonder how we will react in a crisis, or a character defining moment. When I was younger and the second world war was not quite such a distant memory, I recall many conversations in which people confidently proclaimed that if they were in Germany in the 30’s and early 40’s they would have stood up for the Jews. They would have hidden Jews, or helped them get out of the country, or even publicly protested. History, of course, tells us that the majority will go silent in order that we, too, do not attract the ire of those filled with hate.

Whenever there is a shark attack or a swimmer in trouble and we hear of a single person who jumps in the water to help, we like to imagine that in such a circumstance, that is what we would, ignoring the fact that the overwhelming majority stood on the shore watching, fearful for their own safety.

We admire those who take a stand, or take a risk to help someone in need. And we all like to think that is what we might do in similar situations. Most of us, thankfully, never have the opportunity to find out.

Peter, the leader of Jesus’ inner circle of disciples, felt certain that he would choose fight over flight in a dangerous situation. So confident was he, in fact, that when Jesus indicated that life-threatening danger was upon him, and that he was about to follow a path that would lead to death, Peter spoke up and vowed that he would follow him, even if it meant his own death. We might look upon this as another example of Peter speaking too quickly or too confidently, but he was the only one who spoke at all. And Jesus tells him quite bluntly that when things got really difficult and Peter felt genuine fear for his life, not only would he not go to the death for Jesus, but he would deny that he even knew him.

Peter must have been devasted to hear these words, and even more determined to stand by Jesus, whatever the cost. Perhaps that is why, later that night, when Jesus and his disciples leave the relative safety of the upper room they had rented and head to the Mount of Olives, across the Kidron Valley, to pray, Peter armed himself with a sword. None of the others had thought to do that, even though they had heard the same dire warnings of trouble to come.

And trouble did indeed come. Almost immediately upon entering the garden, or what today we would call a public park, a group of armed men arrive, guided by Judas, to arrest Jesus.

And Peter?  Well, Peter stood firm. More than that, he threw himself into the breach against overwhelming odds. He drew his sword and cut off the right ear of one of the armed servants of the high priest, a man, we are told, who was named Malchus.

Now, we need to pause a moment to consider what happened here. Just how does someone cut off another’s ear? Did Peter ask Malchus to hold still while he grabbed his ear and sliced it off? Unlikely.

The most likely explanation is that Peter was not trying to cut off Malchus’ ear at all. He was trying to take off his head. He drew his sword and swung it wildly at the nearest armed man. Malchus leaned hard to his left, and the sword missed his neck but took off his ear. Peter’s was a desperate act. He was ready to fight to the death. He had passed the test. He had not run off. He was willing to die for Jesus.

Jesus then steps in and orders Peter to put his sword away. And we learn from Lukes’ Gospel that Jesus says to Peter, ‘enough of this.’ Then touches the man’s ear and heals him. As an interesting aside, this helps explain why we know the man’s name. The Gospel writers seldom give a name, especially of such a bit player as the high priest’s servant, unless they were well known to the early Christian community for whom the gospels were written. Malchus, having been the last person healed by Jesus during his earthly ministry, would have begun asking questions about who Jesus was. And it seems he eventually came to follow Jesus – and to sit under the leadership and ministry in Jerusalem of Peter, who had once tried to kill him. We can imagine that this would have become a well-known story.

But back to Peter. He had not turned and run in the face of danger. And now, when most of the other disciples fled, he and another disciple, whom we presume to be John, follow Jesus to the high priest’s residence to see what happens. Given that their teacher has just been arrested and is being charged with sedition and who knows what other trumped up charges, this is a very brave act on their part.

But once the adrenaline of the moment has passed, once Peter finds himself, unbelievably, inside the courtyard of the high priest, sitting by a fire to keep warn while he waits to find out what will happen, the full realization of the danger of the situation, and his own folly in trying to kill one of the high priest’s men, begins to dawn. And it is in this moment that Peter, who had acted with great courage up to this point, is put to the test.

Three times Peter is confronted with being one of Jesus’ followers. And each time the stakes are raised.

The first time would have been the easiest for him to stand up and admit that he was one of Jesus’ disciples. It was, after all, only the woman who was letting people through the gate, who asks him. And she is not suggesting that he was the leader of the disciples, or the one who had used a sword against the high priest’s men. We learn from the other gospels that she had simply noticed Peter’s Galilean accent. But it was enough to provoke panic in Peter, a panic he had not felt earlier. And he denies being one of Jesus disciples.

Next, Peter, getting away from the woman who had spotted his accent, goes to a fire where others are keeping warm. Once there he notices that they are the high priest’s men. Some he would have recognized from the arrest of Jesus earlier that night. He now begins to feel panic. They also ask him whether he is one of Jesus’ followers. Again, he denies it. Now he was really sweating it. The panic is rising further within him. Then he is confronted again, this time by a relative of Malchus, whose ear he had just severed in a botched attempt to decapitate the man. Just to make the context clear, Peter had attacked an armed officer of the high priest with a sword and wounded him. A capital offense. He has been recognized not just as a Galilean, not just as a disciple of Jesus, but now as that man who is wanted for armed insurrection. The final question has raised the stakes considerably. It is not simply, are you a follower of Jesus? Or even, aren’t you one of his disciples, who was with him when he was arrested? But, ‘Aren’t you the man who took up a sword to attack one of us?’ Peter denies vigorously that he is that man. He denies that he knows Jesus at all.

And then the cock crows.

And Peter remembers what Jesus had said.

But what is the point of this story? For the full implications of this three-fold denial of Jesus we will have to wait for the story’s sequel, when Jesus and Peter speak again after the resurrection, and Jesus presses Peter, three times, to confirm whether he really loves him.

One might think that this is the end of the story for Peter. He had denied Jesus three times in quick succession. He has gone from brave warrior to wanting to run away and hide. If he were in a modern reality show competition, he would be eliminated. Next contestant, please.

But that is not how God works. Peter’s failure was not the end of his story of discipleship. In many ways it is the beginning. Peter had to learn that he couldn’t do it on his own. He needed to be aware of his shortcomings and faults. And he needed to understand that none of this disqualified him from Jesus’ love and from serving him.

Like Peter, we all fall short. We fall short of God’s glory (Romans) and we fall short even of our own expectations. Most of us would not have made it as far as Peter did before cracking under the pressure.

Peter actually was willing to die fighting physically to save Jesus. He took the risk of going the high priest’s house when all but one of the others fled. I don’t think I would have had the courage to do any of those things.

For many this story recalls Peter attempting to walk on water. He lost sight of Jesus and began to sink and needed to be rescued. And we say, ‘Well, that’s Peter, always overestimating himself.’ But he was the only one of the disciples to attempt to come to Jesus across the waves.

So Peter was anything but a coward. He showed courage in so many ways. But he had his limits, and needed to learn to rely on Jesus, and Jesus alone.

And that’s the bit of the story that I take heart from. That someone as courageous and committed as Peter could still fail – and that Jesus continues to love him and continues to have a plan for him.

We all have limitations. We all fall short. We all have our moments of letting Jesus down. We achieve so much less than we had hoped to achieve. But none of that means that God is finished with us. Jesus picks us up again, builds on our weaknesses, and continues to love us and use us to build his kingdom.

Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.

Jesus in the wilderness

The Text: Mark 1:9-14

 Last week, on Ash Wednesday, the church arrived at the season of Lent.sign1 There we began another 40 days of journeying with Jesus to the Cross. Today’s Gospel reading now draws us into Jesus’ own 40 days in the wilderness.

Usually when we hear the word ‘wilderness,’ we picture a dry and harsh wasteland; a place of emptiness and loneliness, a place of vulnerability with little shelter or protection from the dangerous elements. It’s a place without hope and without much of anything. It’s a dangerous and threatening place, and, in Mark’s account, complete with wild animals. This is the place where Jesus is to be exposed to the harshest of conditions – physically and spiritually speaking.

Why was Jesus in the wilderness? This was the very beginning of Jesus’ ministry that the Father had commissioned him for. Because of his inestimable love, God sent his Son into the world in order to rescue us from the kingdom of darkness. Mark tells us that at Jesus’ baptism, as he was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending upon him.

This is most significant because in the Old Testament, the Holy Spirit anointed specific individuals to perform their callings: the Judges, the prophets, priests and the kings, and people like Simeon who were waiting for the consolation of Israel. All of these roles are ultimately fulfilled in Jesus. He is the great deliverer, rescuing us from the Kingdom of darkness. He is the greatest of the prophets because he proclaims the gospel and works through it. He is our Great High Priest interceding for us and by his own sacrifice reconciling us to God. He is our King through whom the Father sends his Spirit to rule over us with his grace.

Mark shows that the Father has held nothing back in order to save the human race; the heavens were torn open. We are reminded of the appeal to God in Isaiah 64: “O, that you would tear the heavens and come down”. Then here, at the baptism, the Lord and giver of life, that is, the Holy Spirit comes in all his fullness, anointing Jesus for his ministry of the Gospel on earth.

As soon as Jesus was baptised, he was sent by the Spirit out into the wilderness, being tempted by Satan for 40 days. We’re reminded of Israel’s wandering in the wilderness for 40 years on the way to enter the land that God had promised them, and how they fell to the temptation of grumbling against Moses, the leader God had given them, and therefore against God himself. They doubted God’s plan for them and weren’t at all keen on doing his will at that point, and fell to the temptation of idolatry. But whereas Israel of old failed, Jesus doesn’t. Jesus did not just go through this testing time so that he could sympathise with our weaknesses. He went through this to overcome it for us and win the victory over the devil. It’s a part of the Great Exchange: your failures exchanged for Jesus’ success, imputed to you through faith.

It’s hard for us to appreciate what spending 40 days in a wilderness might be like—we who live in ordered communities, with people all around, lush greenery, plentiful food and water.

Yet in another way today’s western society as a kind of wilderness too. The spiritual supermarket of our current time offers all sorts of philosophies and worldviews from which to pick and choose from, all promising meaning and fulfilment, but leaving spiritual consumers in a hungry and thirsty wasteland of un-fulfilment. There is a wilderness of addiction, pain and breakdown from substance abuse which promises an escape from pain but only fuels more pain. There is the wilderness of the materialistic West as marketers promise their customers that they can buy their way to popularity, which is always out of reach so that the costly treadmill of retail therapy does little to change the loneliness within. There is the wilderness of self-loathing, depression and despair of attaining self-worth through physical appearance, leaving the masses with an unachievable goal because the computer corrected images displayed everywhere are not real.

Our society lives in the wilderness of Twittersphere, where everyone has the right to be authors of truth, and where personal opinion determines moral standards. Tolerance is the great sermon that rings forth, yet on the other hand, those same preachers lead the charge to cut down anyone who dares disagree with ideas posted that are different to their own. There is the moral wilderness devoid of true love with the absence of any concern for anyone other than the great ‘me’. Relationships are understood in contractual terms, commitment is viewed as irresponsible, and relational success is measured by the number of partners one has, no longer an enduring marriage relationship between one husband and one wife. There is the wilderness of aimlessness, not only amongst the youth, but now their parents are also searching for something to fill in the boredom, which usually results in abuse of others property, abuse of others, or abuse of themselves.

Though the devil is defeated by the death and resurrection of Jesus, Satan still tempts us to live the wilderness way—to go and find meaning, fulfilment, peace and satisfaction apart from God and his word. Then when we do fall, the Devil tempts us to doubt God’s word in another sense: to disbelieve that the promises God makes could ever really be for us. He tempts us to believe that what we have thought, said or done is unforgivable. He tempts us to believe there is no way God could love us. He tempts us to doubt our standing before God as his children, and tricks us that we now have to do something in addition to Jesus’ work to try to win God’s approval all over again.

Perhaps that’s why Mark glosses over the detail and moves straight to what comes next: Jesus went into Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God. “The time has come,” he said. “The kingdom of God has come near. Repent and believe the good news!”

Jesus doesn’t say the Kingdom of God will come soon. He has already said in today’s text that the time has come. What Jesus says is that the Kingdom of God has come near—it is close by. What is needed for a Kingdom? A King! And he is the Divine King, the King from heaven of whom Psalm 95 speaks:

For the Lord is the great God the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him.
The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land.

 Come, let us bow down in worship,
 let us kneel before the Lord our Maker;
 for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture,
the flock under his care.

In Jesus the Kingdom of God has come near. In Jesus, God has come to earth to pour out his grace, to bring rescue from Satan, to bring forgiveness of sins, freedom and fullness of life.

Every other King would have his subjects defend him. Instead, Jesus our King, defends us all by bringing about what he says in his Gospel, working forgiveness of sins, life, salvation and peace for us.

As we, his church, are surrounded by the wilderness of today’s world and still beset by Satan’s temptations, our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the King of kings, has won the victory. In him the Kingdom of God has come near…not just 2,000 years ago in Galilee. He has won the victory for us all and he comes to us to give us all the benefits of his triumph. In the person of Christ, the kingdom of God has come as near to us “as near gets:” at the baptismal font, as he proclaimed the Good News to you through your pastor: “I baptise you in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit.” Just as the Father held nothing back at Jesus’ baptism, he also gives us the fullness of his Spirit, and he declares: “You are my son/you are my daughter whom I love; with you I am well pleased.” No matter how many times we fail and need to seek forgiveness, through Christ, we remain God’s very own dearly loved child. May he, each day, grant us strength to drown the sinful nature and rise again to newness of life.

In the person of Christ, the kingdom of God has come near again this day. He stands amongst us and says, “‘Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.’ (Matthew 11:28). He says, “Peace be with you!” not as a sincere wish, but as statement that bestows what it says. In baptism, at the Lord’s Supper and anywhere and everywhere the Christian proclaims and announces God’s free forgiveness in Christ, there Christ is among them. This announced and enacted Good News is from God himself. It alone actually frees us and forgives us. It alone provides the strength, as well as the secure hope needed to resist caving in out in the wilderness of the world.

In Christ, as we, his body, gather in worship, we have come into the sanctuary in the midst of the wilderness of the world; here is the Kingdom of God present and at work in with his victory for us all! Amen.

‘Judas Iscariot: the Forgotten Disciple’

 John 13:21-30, 18:1-9pastorm

In the small English village of Moreton, in Dorset, the local Anglican congregation remained deeply divided for thirty years. The renowned artist, Sir Laurence Whistler, was commissioned to create a series of stained-glass windows on the theme of the twelve apostles. Everyone assumed that the twelfth window would feature the little-known Matthias, chosen to replace Judas. But when the windows were completed, the congregation was shocked to discover that the twelfth window featured Judas Iscariot hanging from a tree, the silver coins falling from his purse to the ground, and a beam of light shining down on him from heaven. Sir Laurence had titled it, ‘The Forgiveness Window.’ The parishioners and their priest could not come to terms with the idea that Judas could be the object of any hope of grace. The window sat in storage for thirty years until a new generation of parishioners, led by a new priest, finally agreed to have the window installed – albeit in an obscure alcove of the church facing the cemetery.[1] The story of Whistler’s ‘Forgiveness Window’ typifies much of the Christian reaction to Judas Iscariot.  The grace of God might be open to all – but that ‘all’ certainly could never include Judas. 

Judas Iscariot is one of the most ambiguous and perplexing figures in the Bible.  Almost nothing we learn about Judas from the gospel accounts quite adds up. Judas, for obvious reasons, has been expunged from the gospels apart from the role he played in the betrayal of Jesus. No account of his calling, no record of any of his words or deeds, outside of that final week, are recorded.[2] 

While there is no account of how Judas became one of the twelve, it is reasonable to assume that, like the others, he was chosen by Jesus. Also, Judas was the only member of the inner circle who appears not to have been from Galilee. This would have made him something of an outsider from the beginning. Yet he served as treasurer, which indicates he had some financial ability and a significant degree of respect and trust among the others.

The Gospel that is harshest in its judgment of Judas is John’s Gospel. The naming of Judas as ‘a devil’ (John 6:70) and as a ‘son of perdition’ (John 17:2) convey very strong and emotive language unique to John. Yet is ironically John’s Gospel that gives us more information about Judas than any of the other Gospels. The best explanation of both of these facts is that John had been close to Judas. It makes sense that Judas would have had at least one close friendship within the inner circle of the twelve, and that that person would have not only had more information about Judas, but would have been more hurt and angry at his betrayal.

The account of Judas we have just heard from John’s Gospel takes place in the context of the Last Supper. The first thing that jumps out at us from today’s text is that Judas left to betray Jesus after participating in the Last Supper. Judas was there for the institution of the Lord’s Supper. Jesus gave him the cup and bread. The body and blood of Christ, and his forgiveness, was offered to Judas by Jesus, who knew exactly what Judas was about to do.

Also, if Judas was a simple thief and now a traitor, why does he proceed with his plan when it is clear that he has been caught out by Jesus?  If Judas’ motivation is monetary gain, or simple betrayal, his actions make little sense.  Perhaps Judas felt something needed to happen to force a showdown in which Jesus would have to act. When Jesus says to him to go and do quickly what he must do, Judas may have taken this as an affirmation that this was indeed the role Jesus wanted him to play. The paltry sum offered by the high priests would have been of little consequence. 

Judas’ error, quite possibly, was not so much his love of money, as his failure to understand the kind of Messiah Jesus was. One biblical scholar has written that Judas’ crime was one of ‘earthly presumption, seeking not to thwart the purposes of Christ, or to betray them, but to promote them by means utterly at war with their central spirit. . . . It was an attempt to forward the counsels of God by weapons borrowed from the armoury of darkness.’[3]

If this was the case, then it was the mother of all miscalculations. Judas’ subsequent actions support this interpretation. A thief motivated by greed would not have so quickly tried to return the money, and then taken his own life. A man, however, who thought he was setting up his friend and teacher to call down power from heaven to overthrow the current rulers would have been devastated when Jesus was arrested, then prevented his disciples from defending him, and finally was sentenced to death. Such a man would have desperately tried to take back his actions by returning the thirty coins. Such a man would have been in utter despair at this turn of events. Judas hangs himself when he learns of Jesus’ death sentence.  We see the deep despair of a man who realised just what he has done.

The comment that Satan entered into Judas (John 13:27) is often used to dismiss any attempt to find a motive for his actions. But this comment should not be mistaken for explanation of what Judas’ does.  The expression ‘Satan entered into him’ is akin to our modern ‘the Devil made me do it.’  It is only the second place in the Bible that we find such an expression. The first is in the account of David’s numbering of the people (1 Chronicles 21:1). In this context, the statement is an expression used to explain an otherwise inexplicable act by King David, who was a seemingly good person. The fact that this is said also of Judas is an indication that the other disciples did not see his betrayal coming. They were perplexed as to his motives, and were struggling for an explanation after the event. And the only person who could tell them, Judas himself, was no longer living.

But what does all this mean?

In his 1948 novel Christ Recrucified, Greek author Nikos Kanzantzakis penned the thought-provoking words, in the context of a local priest trying to convince one of his parishioners to play the role of Judas in the coming year’s passion play: ‘Without Judas, no crucifixion, and without crucifixion, no resurrection. … For the world to be saved, Judas is indispensable.’[4]

For the world to be saved, Jesus needed to suffer the abandonment and God-forsakenness of the cross. But for the suffering of Jesus to embrace and redeem all human suffering, his cross had to be more than physical pain. Jesus needed also to experience the rejection of the people whom he came to save. He needed to experience the abandonment of loyal friends, such as Peter. And he needed to experience the pain of betrayal. But therein lies the dilemma. Betrayal can only occur at the hands of a trusted friend.  Being handed over by strangers, disappointed crowds, angry Pharisees, or even a mole in the ranks who had long schemed for his own enrichment, is not true betrayal. For Jesus to experience the full pain and suffering of the cross, it had to be a friend – a loyal disciple who until that moment had loved him and trusted him.  And that man, for good or ill, whatever his own motivation may have been, was Judas Iscariot.

And Jesus, as God in human flesh, surely knew what Judas’ role would be. Certainly Jesus knew it at the Last Supper. And Jesus loves him and lives with him for three years, giving Judas every opportunity to follow the right path, while knowing the whole time that he would not. It must have been heart-breaking for Jesus from the moment he called Judas to follow him, right up to that final kiss in Gethsemane.

There is a telling observation in Friedrich Ohly’s The Dammed and the Elect. He says: ‘Judas dies without ever being aware of his place in the divine plan of salvation, just before the saving death of the Redeemer. He is perhaps the last man to die under the Old Law, before the dawning of the Age of Grace.’[5] Ray Anderson has put it even more sharply.

An astounding irony in the biblical story of Judas is the tragic coincidence of his death and the death of Jesus. At the very moment that Judas is enacting the human drama of sin and death, Jesus is enacting the divine drama of redemption and atonement. As Judas carries the terrible logic of sin to its ultimate conclusion, as though there were no grace and no forgiveness, Jesus contradicts it by taking sin upon himself and dying the death that will perfect the logic of grace and forgiveness. The first man dies without receiving what the second man is dying to give him.[6]

It is more than an intriguing coincidence that Judas and Christ die within moments of one another, and that Judas becomes the symbol of those who die before the death of Christ changes everything. From the moment of the sacrificial death of Jesus a line is drawn through human history. God himself in human flesh stood in our place and suffered with us and for us. The age of grace had begun. But Judas did not live to see it. He was, quite possibly, the last person to die before the death of Jesus changed everything.

That Friday afternoon in the vicinity of Jerusalem two men who had been friends hung on trees, dying ‘accursed’ deaths.

One man put himself on the tree. The other was put there by the rest of humanity.

One man’s death took place in a vacuum of hope, the other man’s death became the foundation of hope.

One man’s death brought an end to life, the death of the other brought life to all people.

Two men, on two different trees, died that Friday on the outskirts of Jerusalem.  Their deaths were linked, indeed inextricably connected.  Jesus died when his friend betrayed him. Judas died when he learned that Jesus would go the cross and he could not bear to live with the consequences of his own action.

And the sky darkened over both of them as the Father in heaven wept.Amen

Pastor Mark Worthing.

[1] Peter Stanford, ‘Was Judas – Christianity’s great traitor – wrongly condemned?’ in The Independent (Sunday 5 April 2015).

[2] One possible exception is the famous ‘Judas (not Iscariot)’ text in John 14:22. John never uses the name Judas for Thaddeus, so this occurrence is odd. Some have speculated that it is reference to a comment by Judas Iscariot, but that early copyists added the qualifier. The fact that there are variations of the form of the qualification in early texts may point to ‘not Iscariot’ being an addition. Given that John has more to say about Judas than any of the other gospels, if a reference to something Judas said or did that was not related to his betrayal were to be preserved, it is in John’s gospel that we might expect to find it. 

[3] Thomas de Quincey, Judas Iscariot, [1852] at http://fullreads.com/essay/judas-iscariot, p. 5. (accessed 12.07.2018)

[4] Nikos Kazantzakis, Christ Recrucified, trans. J. Griffin (London: Faber and Faber, 1962), 24,25.

[5] Friederich Ohly, The Dammed and the Elect. Guilt in Western Culture, trans Linda Archibald. (Cambridge University Press, 1992), p. 29.

[6] Ray Anderson, The Gospel According to Judas (Colorado Springs: Helmers & Howard, 1991), p. 92.

‘Glimpsing the Glory of Jesus’

Sermon: Transfiguration Sunday

John 17:1-16;17-24: pastorm

 This Sunday is transfiguration Sunday. Just before we begin the Lenten journey that leads finally to Good Friday and the cross, Transfiguration Sunday reminds of who it is who sacrifices his life for us. Matthew, Mark and Luke all record that before Jesus heads to Jerusalem for the final time, he takes Peter, James and John with him to a high mountain. There he is changed or transfigured before them as he appears on the mountain speaking with Moses and Elijah, the greatest lawgiver and the greatest prophet of Israel. Both figures had encountered a theophany, a physical appearance of God in the Old Testament, and both on the same mountain, Mt Horeb (also known and Mt Sinai). For both, it was an awe-filled experience.

And now here they are again, on a mountaintop, with God in human flesh, revisiting their experiences of the glory of God. Just how the three disciples recognised that it was Moses and Elijah that Jesus was speaking with we do not know. What we do know is that they were awestruck. Peter blurts out the helpful suggestion to Jesus that they could make a shrine to each of the three. Then the voice from heaven suddenly says, ‘This is my beloved son. Listen to him!’ They bow down trembling and when they look up, only Jesus is there.

The point is that Jesus is not on an equal footing with Moses and Elijah. He is not sharing the stage with Moses and Elijah. Jesus is the one Moses and Elijah had met before on the mountaintop.  What the disciples saw was a glimpse of the glory of Christ. And they never forgot it. Many years later Peter recalls the event vividly of the time he was an eyewitness to Jesus’ majesty, and how they witnessed the ‘majestic glory’ of God on the holy mountain (2 Peter 1:16-18). The event was so significant that all three synoptic gospels record it.

Yet curiously, John, who was one of the three disciples to witness the glory of Christ on the mountain, does not mention the event in his gospel. But perhaps we should not be entirely surprised. John has a habit of leaving out material that is important when it has been well covered by the other three gospels, which he would have known well. For instance, he is the only gospel writer to not explicitly include the baptism of Jesus. Yet John has more baptismal imagery and more about John the Baptist than any other gospel. Similarly, his is the only gospel to not include the institution of the Lord’s Supper, yet he spends more time describing what was said at the last meal of Jesus with his disciples than all the other gospels combined, and has more eucharistic imagery than any other gospel. So clearly baptism and the Lord’s Supper were important to John. It was enough for him that the three previous gospels had given accounts of the baptism of Jesus and the institution of the Lord’s Supper. John focused on filling out these themes in other ways.

Something similar occurs with the transfiguration. John was not in the habit of rehashing ground that had already been covered by the other gospels. He does not tell again the story of the mountaintop experience with Jesus. But the revelation of the glory of Christ certainly left its mark on John.

For John, the theme of Christ’s glory comes to the fore in the prayer Jesus spoke on the last night he was with his disciples. As he does so often, John fills out a theme from the earlier gospels with material that they have not included. In this case, it is the so-called high priestly prayer of Jesus in which he prays for his disciples, and for all of us who would one day follow them in faith. In this prayer Jesus reveals that he and the Father are one, continuing a theme from earlier in his gospel. And in this prayer Jesus talks about glory. For this reason it is fitting that we should reflect upon the account of the prayer of Jesus in on Transfiguration Sunday, in which we reflect upon the glory of Jesus.

More than any other place in the Gospels, apart from the account of the transfiguration itself, we see the glory of Christ in this text. We have seen in other sections of John’s gospel how he uses different forms of the same word repeatedly in order to underscore a key theme. For instance ‘witness’ and ‘testify’ in chapters one, two, five and eight, ‘see’ and ‘look’ in the second half of chapter one, ‘from above’ and ‘from heaven’ in chapter three, and ‘water’ and ‘spirt’ in chapters three and four.

John makes the theme of this prayer clear when he reports that Jesus used the word ‘glory’ or ‘glorify’ eight times, and three times used the related word, ‘sanctify,’ or to make holy.

The Greek word for glory is ‘doxa’. From this we get the word doxology. The hymn, ‘Praise God from who all blessings flow,’ sang sometimes at the end of a worship service, is often simply known as ‘the doxology.’ It was a hymn praising and glorifying Christ. In the Old Testament the glory of God was revealed to Moses on the mountaintop. When the Bible speaks of the glory and holiness of God it is something more profound than simple praise or adoration. It goes to the very heart of the nature of God. God is holy, and God is glory.

Jesus asks that he might be glorified (vv. 1 and 5) and that he might glorify the Father. He says he is glorified in his disciples, and that he gives them the glory that the father has given him. And this glory that he speaks of is the glory that he has shared with the Father from before the world was created (verses 5 and 24).

Similarly, Jesus reveals that we are made holy through truth. We are made holy just as Jesus makes himself holy (17-19). Notice the language here in verse 19: ‘I make myself holy’. Only the Holy One can make someone holy. Jesus is revealing his holiness and his glory to his disciples in this prayer. He is showing them that he is God, just as much as he did when he revealed this to Peter, James and John on the mountaintop a week earlier, as reported in the other gospels.

John has spoken of the glorification of Jesus previously in gospel in 7:39 and 12:16. In both these instances he refers to the time when Jesus will be glorified when he ascends into heaven. The glory of Christ is connected with the ascension and enthronement of Christ, for glory is something associated with God in the heavenly realm. But the prayer of John 17, like the accounts of the transfiguration in the other gospels, is about Jesus revealing his glory while he is still dwelling among us. We are seeing the glory of God in the person of Jesus Christ, who become human flesh and lived among us.

But why is this important? And why does Jesus reveal his glory so late in his ministry? Why does he take three of his disciples up a mountain to see a glimpse of his heavenly glory within a week or two of his crucifixion? Why reveal his glory so explicitly in this prayer on the very night that he would be betrayed and arrested? And why does John devote an entire chapter to a single prayer when there were so many things to write?

The answer to all of these questions is that it was important for the disciples to know, and it is important for us to know, just who it is who goes to the cross for us. It is unexpected and astounding enough that the promised Messiah would do this. But Jesus is far more than the Messiah. Jesus is God himself, creator of all things. Jesus is the One whose very nature is glory and holiness. On the mount of Transfiguration, and in Jesus’ prayer for his disciples and for all of us, the curtain is briefly pulled back, and Jesus reveals himself to us in his glory. We see that it is God himself going to the cross.

We also find that this prayer of Jesus is very personal. It is not a short model prayer, like the one he gave to the disciples when they asked how they should pray. This is Jesus expressing his deepest concerns in conversation with the Father before he goes to the cross. The focus of the prayer is not only on the glory Jesus has with the Father, but it is on the disciples and all those who will come to believe in him through their testimony (verse 20).

In this prayer Jesus is praying for us. Imagine that. I have always been deeply touched when I learn that someone has been praying for me. I still remember when my grandmother told me near the end of her life that she prayed for me every day and had done so since I was born. Many of you have had similar experiences. Now imagine learning in this prayer that Jesus includes us in his prayer. Jesus, in his glory, prays for you and me.

In his prayer Jesus says to the Father in verse 4, ‘I glorified you on earth by finishing the work that you gave me to do.’ And in this work Jesus is glorified with the glory that was his before the world existed. The very glory that defines God, that belongs to the very nature of God, is the same glory that is made known in God who comes to dwell among us and goes to the cross for us. In this act Christ glorifies the Father and is glorified by the Father, with whom he is one. And Jesus shares this glory with those who believe in him and makes them holy as he is holy. And he does this that we might one in him, just as he and the Father are one. He does this that we might love one another, just as the Father has loved the Son since before the foundation of the world.

Finally, Jesus prays for us asking that we might see his glory. The glimpse of his glory that was given to Peter, James and John is something Jesus wants all of us to see. Jesus wants us to see his glory not to be impressed and in awe. Peter learned that this was not the purpose of seeing the glory of Christ when he suggested building shrines to Jesus, Moses and Elijah.

Jesus wants us not only to see his glory but to share in his glory. He wants this so that we might be one, just as he and the Father are one – and so that we might love one another, just as he and Father love one another. Jesus wants us to know just who it is who died for us on the cross in order that that we might be transformed, becoming more like him.

Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.

Transfiguration

The Text: Mark 9:2-9

sign1

Today’s sermon is brought to you by the numbers 6 and 3, and the word ‘listen’.

Six days.

God made the world in six days…and on the seventh He rested.

We’re to work for six days…and then on the seventh we’re to rest in what God does for us.

The glory of the Lord surrounded Mt Sinai in the wilderness for six days before Moses could enter into His presence on the seventh day.

Six times Joshua and the people of Israel walked around the city of Jericho, and on the seventh the walls came down in a shout.

And the transfiguration of our Lord happened after six days.

When St Mark has a habit of saying everything happened immediately, it should surprise us when there’s a break in this pattern – in fact we hear there’s a six-day break in the immediacy of Jesus’ work! But as we’ve just heard, the number six is significant in God’s story of salvation because it sets us up for what happens on the seventh day. We should stop and witness what God is doing on this seventh day.

So, while we’re surprised there’s a break in Mark’s narrative, it shouldn’t come as a surprise there were six days between what happened just beforehand and this seventh day where He was transformed in front of the disciples; where God revealed Jesus to be His beloved Son whom we should listen to.

But what happened beforehand?

Well, it was six days ago when Peter had confessed Jesus to be the Christ. No sooner had he made this Spirit-led confession that Jesus announced He would suffer many things; be rejected by the elders, priests and scribes; be killed; and then rise again after three days.

But this troubled Peter. After all, Peter had witnessed all the miracles of Jesus – all the healings (including the healing of his own mother-in-law), raising people from the dead, and how Jesus cast out demons – which no doubt had led him to the conclusion Jesus is none other than the promised Messiah spoken about in the Scriptures.

So, what Jesus was talking about shouldn’t happen. Peter figured this is now the time when the Scriptures would be fulfilled and when everything was set right. This is the time of Israel’s freedom and glory! This is the time when the glory of God is revealed so the nation of Israel could rule and bless all the nations!

So, this is why Peter tells Jesus off!

But in response, Jesus tells Peter off! He said Peter’s got in mind the things of man and not the things of God. The work of God isn’t all about health and wealth and glory and power, but it also includes suffering, rejection, death, and resurrection.

So, it seems Peter pondered Jesus’ words for six days, and on the seventh he saw the glory of God reflected in the person of Jesus Christ. But he still didn’t get it.

And neither do we. We often struggle to understand what it all means, which is why the number three enters our meditation.

You see, there were three.

There were three disciples: Peter, James and John.

There were three people in front of them: Jesus, Moses and Elijah.

The number three is a number of community – just like there were three visitors who visited Abraham before God’s judgment on Sodom and Gomorrah, and it’s also the number of persons who form our Triune God.

But it’s also a number of completeness – for example, a complete journey of three days between one place and another (which is mentioned many times in Scripture), a three-day meditation for Jonah in the belly of a fish, and it’s also the number of days before Jesus would rise from death.

Peter, not quite getting the significance of what it meant for Jesus to be the promised Messiah, offers to build three shelters – one each for Jesus, Moses, and Elijah. After all, this is a great place and great time for God’s people! Here we have a gathering of the greatest prophets of all time: Moses the Law-giver, Elijah the mighty prophet who was taken up into heaven, and now Jesus the powerful teacher and miracle-worker!

So, let’s retain and preserve this holy moment in time and space! Let’s all come to hear the wisdom of these mighty men! Let’s all come near this holy place to have our diseases healed, our demons cast out, and our loved ones raised from death! Let’s all bask in the glory of our mighty and awesome God for the rest of time!

If only!

Isn’t this what we also want?

Wouldn’t we love to meet Moses, or Elijah, or Jesus face-to-face?

I mean, wouldn’t we love to ask them questions on what it’s like to have such strong faith? Wouldn’t we love to know more about their mighty victories over Pharaoh and the Egyptians, the prophets of Baal, or about Jesus’ victory over sin, death, and the devil?

Wouldn’t we love to come near and have each of them teach us, touch us, and encourage us in a world gone crazy? Wouldn’t we love to go to one of those shelters to have our bodies restored to its youthful vigour, or to have our bodies healed from cancer or tumours or from dementia? Wouldn’t we want to bring our departed loved ones to the tent of Jesus, so He could raise them from death for our pleasure and comfort?

But Peter doesn’t know what he’s asking…and neither do we.

So often our wishes are all about us—what we want. So often, sinful human beings have in mind the things of a rebellious humanity.

But this isn’t what Jesus is about. He’s here to do the will of God; not the will of men.

God’s plan seems backward and strange to us. We see or hear a moment of glory thinking this is God’s plan for us which is supposed to last, but it doesn’t – at least, not on this earth. What often lasts are our troubles, sicknesses, fights, and  deteriorating bodies as age takes its toll .

The moment of Jesus’ transfiguration was a glimpse of God’s glory to strengthen Jesus for His journey through His own suffering and death, but it was also for frightened, confused and slow-to-learn disciples like us who look for assurance of God’s glory and power during our own sufferings and journey toward death.

When we see or experience suffering and rejection and death, we often reckon this isn’t part of God’s plan. We want the glory and health and strength and power and joy to last, but it doesn’t. God’s glory doesn’t match our own ideas of glory. Jesus told us His glory comes through suffering and rejection. His glory comes through sacrifice and death. His glory also comes in resurrection and restoration for those who trust Him.

Which brings us to the word of today: listen.

In this case, it’s not supposed to be a passive word where we just listen and not respond. It’s intended to be matched with a trust in what we listen to which also responds in obedient action.

You see, when God speaks, things happen.

When He speaks: light appears, waters divide, and worlds are created. When He speaks, people like Moses and Elijah respond in faith and pass on the Word of God.

Similarly, when His holy name is spoken over the waters of Baptism sins are forgiven, faith is stirred, people are adopted as God’s own, our bodies receive the benefits of Jesus’ resurrected body, and the promise of eternal life is given. When Jesus’ Word is spoken over bread and wine it also becomes His body and blood to bring to troubled sinners His forgiveness, life, and salvation.

In other words, the Word of God is powerful and active. The trouble is, we often don’t listen, and if we do listen, we don’t always respond in faith and trust.

We’re more likely to listen to our own fears and believe them. We’re more likely to listen to the latest feel-good motto or advert. We’re more likely to listen to what our itching ears want to hear. We’re more likely to listen to the lies and deceptive whispers of the devil who still asks: ‘Did God really say…?’

In other words, the call for us to listen to Jesus places us on a collision course with spiritual warfare which is just as volatile as the battle between Moses and Pharaoh and between Elijah and the prophets of Baal. Because of our selfishness, our flesh resists God’s Word, and so does the world. In the end it’s a question of who we’re going to listen to, who we’re going to trust, who we’re going to follow, and who we’re going to obey.

So, the call to listen is a call to deny our own selfish will and let God’s will be done in our life, even if His will involves suffering for His sake, patience in times of trouble, endurance in faith when the world criticizes and condemns, willing service to the outcast and troubled, and forgiving those who don’t deserve such grace.

It’s also a call to believe something we struggle to believe. That Jesus did this for you and me. That we’re not as good as we make out we are. That our actions, words and thoughts are motivated by selfishness, greed, pride, and fear. That Jesus would choose to come into this cruel and heartless world to suffer and die at the hands of His own faithful people. That He wouldn’t defend His innocence or call for justice from the cross, but instead cried out to His Father to forgive us because we don’t know what we’re doing.

While God spoke His Word through Moses and the prophets like Elijah, He now speaks to us through Jesus. We’re made His disciples through faith and we’re to respond to His teachings of glory through suffering, love through service, and forgiveness by grace. 

We listen to His words of forgiveness, and through faith we learn to forgive those around us. We listen to His sufferings and learn our own suffering serves a purpose to strengthen our trust in Him. We listen to His death and learn death no longer has a claim on you or I because we believe in the resurrection of the dead through Christ.

Yes, after six days Jesus is transfigured before his three disciples, and in this momentary glimpse of His true identity we’re called to listen – to listen to what God is doing for us as Jesus journeys toward the moments He was betrayed, denied, whipped, crucified, died, and rose again.

We listen as the glory of God is revealed through blood and sacrifice and as His love pronounces everything is finished. We listen so we can rest from our own work and witness what God has done for us through Jesus, the Son of God, with whom the Father is pleased.

And, as we listen to Him, we’re called to respond in faith, because it’s through trusting the words and actions of Jesus that the peace of God, which surpasses all human understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. Amen.

‘Jesus in the true Temple’

Sermon 5 Epiphany: John 2:13-25

‘Jesus in the true Temple’pastorm

 The story in today’s text is traditionally known as ‘Jesus cleansing the Temple’. A confirmation student some years ago suggested it should be known as ‘Jesus looses it.’ I doubt this title for the story would catch on, but is perhaps a more accurate description of what happens here than the image of cleansing the temple. It is the only time that Jesus is recorded as losing his temper. It is the only time that we see anything even approaching physical violence in Jesus. It seems to run counter to everything we expect Jesus do to. And yet this story of what occurred is so important that all four gospel writers include it in their accounts of Jesus’ life.

But before we can look at what this story means, we must consider another little problem. Matthew, Mark and Luke all place this story in the last week of Jesus’ life, just after the triumphal entry into Jerusalem. In this context the story takes on a certain significance. Jesus not only further enrages the Jewish authorities by this act, forcing them to finally show their hand, but he also disappoints the masses, who expected him to storm the Roman garrison and kick the Romans out of the city. And when he went instead to the temple after entering the city in great precession, they perhaps thought he was at least going to challenge the authority of the priesthood. Instead, he simply chased out a rabble of money changers and sellers of sacrificial animals. The disappointment would have been palpable. It plays a big role in helping to explain why the crowds were chanting ‘crucify him!’ only a few days after celebrating his entry into Jerusalem.

The story of the cleansing of the temple is difficult enough as it stands. John only adds to the difficulty when he places the story not in the last week of Jesus’ life, like the other gospels, but three years earlier, at the end of his very first week of ministry.

For the reader, let alone the reader who is also committed to preaching on such a text, this certainly throws a spanner in the works. But as we have seen with many other texts, when something confusing, out of place, or unexpected occurs, rather than ignore it or rush over it – this is precisely where we need to take a closer look to see what we are missing. It is often the case that it is precisely at such a point that we gain insight to the meaning of the text.

So let’s give it a go here.

Some have tried to resolve this problem by suggesting that Jesus must have cleansed the temple on two separate occasions. This is driven by the idea the gospel writers were thinking like modern historians. But they were not modern historians. They were more interested in the meaning of events than their sequence. And this is especially true of John. Almost all biblical scholars agree that the cleansing of the temple happened only once, and that it was almost certainly at the end of Jesus’ ministry. It is not likely that Jesus would have done the same thing twice, nor that the temple authorities would not have been ready for such an act a second time.

Others have suggested that as an old man John was confused about the chronology of events. But John does not seem confused about anything else. And John would have known the first three gospels very well from his own reading and from readings in Christian worship over the previous three decades. He would have known very well where this famous event was placed chronologically.

Others still have suggested that John felt the other three gospels had gotten the chronology of events wrong and he wanted to correct them. But there is nothing in this story that suggests he was trying to correct the three earlier evangelists. So if he was not relating an entirely different incident, was not confused, and was not trying to correct the other three gospels, this leaves only one option. John deliberately places this story out of sequence, knowing very well that his readers from the Christian community would immediately spot this change. So why would he do this?

In John’s gospel the story of the cleansing of the temple takes on a very different meaning than in the other gospels, precisely because of its placement.

After the wedding at Cana, in which Jesus made it clear to his mother that he wasn’t ready to publicly begin his ministry, he takes a few days off with his family and disciples in Capernaum, then heads straight to Jerusalem for the Passover.

What he finds in the temple angers him. The reasons for this are many. First, the obvious one that Jesus himself gives to the sellers of pigeons, is that they have turned God’s house, meant as a place of worship, into a marketplace. Not only this, but the business being conducted was taking advantage of ordinary people coming to Jerusalem for worship. Temple rules said pagan money could not be used for temple business, so, conveniently money changers were available to turn their Greek, Syrian, and Roman coins for Jewish ones, at a good rate for the moneychangers, of course, which was shared with the Temple authorities.

Then there was the matter of the animals sold for sacrifice. A poor person could buy a dove for sacrifice outside the temple for less than a quarter of the price. But only spotless animals were accepted for sacrifice, and the Temple authorities were in the habit of rejecting any animal or bird not purchased at exorbitant rates from the Temple itself. These practices, cheating ordinary people out of a great deal of money just to fulfil their religious obligations, would have also made Jesus angry.

A third point is that tradition has it that it was the Court of Gentiles where this business took place. Mark reflects this when he reports Jesus as saying the temple is ‘house of prayer for all the nations’ (11:17). It was the only place in the Temple where non-Jews were allowed to come and worship the true God. And the Temple authorities showed so little concern for the worship of God by those from other nations that they filled the area with money changers and livestock sellers, making it impossible for a non-Jew to worship at the Temple. This would have also made Jesus angry. 

All of this anger was interpreted by Jesus’ disciples interpret as ‘zeal’ for the Temple, recalling Psalm 69:9. For them, this showed not only Jesus’ great piety and concern for right worship, but also that he was the messiah.

Significantly, John adds three bits of information not in the synoptic accounts. First, he reports that Jesus made a whip of cords (v. 15) to drive out the animals and the moneychangers. This tells us two things about what happened. First, this action of Jesus what not premeditated. He did not bring a whip with him to drive out the livestock but had to make one on the spot. And second, though Jesus showed anger he was not out of control. He did not charge after people and animals like a wild man, but took the time to make a whip to drive the lot out.

The second point unique to John’s account is that he reports the disciples immediately recalling Psalm 69:9, ‘It is zeal for you house that has consumed me.’

The audacity of what Jesus does is breath-taking. The authorities demand a sign to show that he is allowed to do this. And this is the third point that John includes in this account that the other gospels do not. The authorities want proof that Jesus speaks for God, for only God could challenge the operation of the sacred temple in Jerusalem. And the reader of John’s gospel will be very familiar with concept of a sign. John has just introduced it in the previous story, where Jesus does his first sign at the wedding of Cana. So we have Jesus performing sign reluctantly in an insignificant village in Galilee to a group of people of no particular social standing in Jewish society. But then a few days later he is asked for a sign by the Jewish leaders at the Temple itself, in front of great crowds present for Passover, and he refuses to give them one. Instead, he tells them that the only sign they will get is when the temple is torn down and he rebuilds it in three days. These words were not meant to be understood by the Jewish authorities. They were for the disciples to recall later, after his death and resurrection. But lest we think that Jesus was all out of miracles, we are told in v. 23 that he went out afterward and did many ‘signs’ that caused people to believe in him. It is John’s way of telling us that the sign at Cana was not a fluke. Jesus was quite able to perform visible signs, or miracles, but he chose not to at this point. He was not in the business of performing signs and miracles on command, especially not at the request of the authorities.

So what does this all mean?

Clearly, John wants to highlight the importance of the Temple. This is where God is to be found and worshiped. And John wants his readers to be very clear that Jesus is God. And the temple system of sacrifice is one that Jesus has come to end as the Lamb of God who will be the final sacrifice for sins. So bringing Jesus to the Temple at the very start of his ministry shows who Jesus is and what his relationship with the temple and it’s sacrificial system is. This story answers and a number of question and sets an important tone for Jesus’ ministry at the very outset.

Interestingly, early church tradition, based on a statement made by Polycrates, the bishop of Ephesus, where John lived and died a century earlier, states that John was both the beloved disciple who wrote this gospel, and also a Jewish priest known to wear the sacerdotal plate of his office. If John came from a priestly family, they could well have spent the majority of the year when they were not serving at the Temple fishing. If John was a priest, or from a priestly family, it would also explain the mystery of how an apparently simple fisherman from Galilee was ‘known to the high priest’ and was thus able to go into the high priest’s courtyard with Jesus for his trial (John 18:15,16). And it would also explain why the temple held such prominence in John’s thinking – so much so that he chose to place this story, though out of sequence, near the very beginning of his gospel.

As we have already seen, John loves spoilers. He begins his gospel by revealing that Jesus is God, and this is reinforced, as we saw last week, by Jesus’ first sign. Then John reveals that Jesus will be the sacrificial Lamb of God, who dies for the sins of the world.. And now he reveals that Jesus will be raised from the dead on the third day. John is two chapters into his gospel and he has basically given away the whole plot.

But John is not writing a dramatic account, like Mark, or a historical record, like Luke. John wants to tell us the things Jesus taught. He wants to show us who Jesus was by his words and deeds. He has stated his case for Jesus at the outset. And part of that it putting the story of the cleansing of the Temple in the at the end of the first week of his ministry instead of the beginning of the last. For a Jewish way of thinking and writing stories, it is a very symbolic and chiastic move.

Telling the story, in part, from back to front, with the deity of Christ, the death and resurrection, and the cleansing of the temple from the last week of his life all at the beginning, might strike us as odd. It is like a writer friend of mine who never reads a novel without reading the last chapter first. She wants to know from the beginning where she is going so that she doesn’t miss or misunderstand anything along the way. That is what John is doing for us here by beginning his account of Jesus’ life and ministry in this way. He has some important points to make about who Jesus is. And he doesn’t want anyone to miss them along the way.

So beginning his gospel like this, and putting the account of the cleansing of the temple near the start, John is now free to build his case for Jesus being not only the Messiah, but God in human flesh. The point John is making is that Jesus is the one who can rebuild the Temple, which is where we find God on earth. And he can do this because Jesus himself is the true temple. Jesus himself is God on earth.

Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pastor Mark Worthing.

You could come & fly.

The text:  Isaiah 40:31peters

 Ever wondered what it would be like to fly?  I don’t mean flying in a plane or dangling beneath a kite or parachute.  I mean sticking your arms out like a bird, or out front like superman if you like, and soaring above the earth; banking over the forests; skimming over the rivers; darting through mountain canyons; diving down and scaring the living daylights out of the members of your family; breathing deeply in the fresh air of free and effortless flight!  And if you are someone who is scared of heights, imagine if you had no such fear. You could come and fly with the rest of us.

From the early pages of history people have looked at the birds and wanted to fly.  You have seen people jump out of perfectly good planes and ‘fly’ at least for a while, but gravity does its job and the skydiver has no choice but to pull the ripcord on his parachute.

I’m sure every kid at some time has wanted to fly.  Maybe it’s been a theme in your dreams but like all dreams there comes a rude awakening when you wake up and discover that you are still a prisoner of gravity.  As much as we really wish we could fly, we have to walk to the bathroom, walk out to the kitchen for breakfast and walk to school or work.  We aren’t built for flying.

As adults we don’t think about flying as we did when we were kids.  Not only aren’t we built for flying but we also carry a lot of baggage – we carry too much weight.  Not only the kind of weight that shows up on the bathroom scales but the weight of worry, anxiety, paying bills, keeping the boss happy, and how our health crisis will turn out.  All this weighs us down.

Then there’s your family.  The people you love.  You see your parents getting older; perhaps becoming infirm.  You see your children struggling in this or that. Perhaps you’ve hit a rough patch in your marriage.  When you were a kid love wasn’t so difficult and so demanding.  But that’s because you were mostly on the receiving end of it.  And now you are called to be the one who gives it; called to be the one who loves.  This too can weigh you down.

So what about those dreams of flying high above the world in complete freedom and in the open spaces where there is not a worry in the world?  Nah!  Not anymore!  Life is way too heavy to entertain such thought.  Flying – that’s okay for kids to dream about because they don’t have the worries we have but for us the world is too real.  A bit like gravity – we can’t ever get away from it.

And yet, what does the text from Isaiah say?  “Those who trust in the Lord for help will find their strength renewed.  They will rise on wings like eagles; they will run and not get weary.”  Hmmm.  “They will rise on wings like eagles”.  With renewed strength they will soar above the earth with the powerful wings of an eagle.  I don’t know about you, but Isaiah’s got my attention!  Suddenly my childhood interest in being able to fly is renewed.  Floating, drifting, circling, free as a bird.  Is there a way to overcome the gravity of our lives, a way to lighten our loads, a way rise above it all?  Is this just a dream, wishful thinking, belonging to the world of fantasy along with fairies, flying dragons and magic carpets?

Just to put these words about flying like eagles into context.  The prophet Isaiah was writing to the people of Israel during a time when they felt like their strength was sapped and they had no hope.  Like us, they were worried.  The news wasn’t good.  The dreadful Assyrians were breathing down their necks, and later it would be the Babylonians who would take them all away to live in exile. As they thought about all the stuff that was happening around them, they were weighed down and overwhelmed by the seriousness of their situation.

They started to say things like, “God doesn’t really care about me!  How can he? Look at all this bad and difficult stuff that is happening all around us.  He’s not really in charge of things!” (Isaiah 40:27).

You see what was happening here?  They began to see their problems as being bigger than God himself.  They forgot that the creator of everything, the everlasting Lord, whose love for his people means he will never grow tired of helping them, just might be able to help them with all their worries.

You see over the years a subtle exchange had taken place.  They exchanged their faith in God for a kind of do-it-yourself kind of attitude.  We do the exact same thing!  This DIY kind of Christianity excludes God from certain areas of our lives. I know God is there but I can handle this myself.

“Let’s see, my work, hmm, no that’s not God’s problem.

Finances, no. I can fix that.

Relationship problems, no.  That’s my responsibility.

My love life, no God doesn’t know anything about that, that’s my area.”

Without even giving it too much thought we exclude God from different aspects of our lives.  We can fix it we say and maybe it works okay for a time. But then we begin to feel the weight.  Our blood pressure rises.  We toss and turn. We get sick.  We become depressed.  The joy goes out of our lives.  We despair.  We slowly realise that the DIY approach isn’t all that successful after all. 

I’m sure that a lot us, including myself, have to admit to doing this at some time, if not more often than we care to admit.  We sideline God and try to be our own god.  We believe that we can do it alone, but that’s something God never intended for us.  God didn’t make us to stand alone against everything that threatens our safety and happiness.  God made us to rely on him.

This is where Isaiah comes in and we have this wonderful passage that was read earlier.  He asks, “How can you be so dumb.  Don’t you know who stretched out the heavens, made the earth and filled it with people?  Don’t you know that it is God who created the stars?  There are millions of them, and yet he knows when one of them is missing and if God knows each individual star, it follows that he knows each one of us personally and calls us by name.  He knows when we are in trouble.  No one can ever accuse God of turning a deaf ear to our needs. 

Then comes these wonderful words,
“Don’t you know?  Haven’t you heard? 
The Lord is the everlasting God; he created all the world. 
He never grows tired or weary. 
No one understands his thoughts.
He strengthens those who are weak and tired.  
Even those who are young grow weak; young people can fall exhausted.  
But those who trust in the Lord for help will find their strength renewed.
They will rise on wings like eagles;
they will run and not get weary;
they will walk and not grow weak.” (40:28-31)

Jesus affirmed what Isaiah said when he said: “Come to me, all of your who are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest”. 

Jesus assures us that there is not a moment when we are not under his love and care.  Yes, there will be times when we could have saved ourselves a heap of stress and pressure if only we had trusted in the Lord for help and realised that he is ready, willing and able to give us renewed strength and a fresh outlook on life and its problems. 

The apostle Paul realised that he knew what he ought to do and trust God more, but found more often than not, that he did what he knew he shouldn’t do.  There were times when he was physically exhausted and drained, not knowing what would happen to him next.  But in each case he came back to this one point, “God can raise me above all this.  His love is so powerful that I can be confident, content, and certain no matter what the circumstances.  The Lord will help me to face each thing that terrifies me and give me the strength to continue”.  In the end Paul says, “I can do everything through him who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

As Isaiah said, “Those who trust in the Lord for help will find their strength renewed. They will rise on wings like eagles; they will run and not get weary; they will walk and not grow weak”. 

In other words, trusting in God to give us the strength that is beyond our own strength to deal with any situation, we can rise on wings like eagles.  We can fly.  We can soar high above our problems; we can fly free with the sky as the limit. God wants us to fly like eagles.

When we trust in God and his love for us and entrust our lives to the one who gave his life for us on the Cross, everything else is dwarfed in comparison to the largeness and authority of the Lord.  He is bigger than any problem we might face.  And as we learn to trust him, we begin to see things from his perspective. He draws us upward in faith, so that we begin to get a bird’s eye view of things, or more correctly, a God’s eye view of things.

Remember the dreams about flying, the fantasy stories like Peter Pan where children could fly? Well they are not too far off the mark.  We too can fly even though our feet never leave the ground.  We can rise above everything that threatens our security with a strength that comes from God.  “Those who trust in the Lord for help will find their strength renewed. They will rise on wings like eagles”. Amen!

The sign of Jesus glory.

John 2:1-12: pastorm
St Peter’s Lutheran Church, Port Macquarie

Organising major events is not easy. Just over three years ago our family was organising the wedding of our daughter Chelsea. The fact that it was taking place in the midst of Covid chaos, not knowing if it would be cancelled at the last moment, did not help. In the end we had restrictions on the number attending, had to have special approval to have a reception on private property (our home) and had to ensure everyone remained 1.5 metres apart. If this was not challenging enough, both the wedding and the reception were to be held outdoors. As the wedding was in early December, the chances of warm, dry weather were very good. In the end, it turned out to be one of coldest, wettest and windiest December days on record. Almost nothing that had been organised was able to proceed as planned.

Now spare a thought for those organising the wedding held in Cana in Galilee, a small village visible from Nazareth. Jewish wedding celebrations of the time, especially those held in small towns and villages, often ran for several days. Food wine and musicians were organized well in advance. There was no local Coles or Foodland to run off to if anything was forgotten or found to be in short supply. At these weddings one of the most important aspects was the provision of wine. This often came out in courses and it was such an important part of the celebrations that a chief steward was appointed, something like a master of ceremonies, whose job was to check the quality of each new batch of wine, propose a toast, and see that it was distributed. To run short of wine was a tremendous social embarrassment. It would have been seen as a failure of hospitality, held to be a sacred duty in the ancient Near-East. It was the kind of mistake that no one in such a small community would ever forget. But that is exactly what happened in the story of the wedding at Cana.

How did this disaster occur? We do not know all the facts, but one thing we do know. One of the wedding guests had just made at least five new disciples in the three or four days preceding the wedding and showed up with them all in tow. There were no mobile phones or emails so of course Jesus could not call ahead as he made his way from Bethany beyond the Jordan and then to Bethsaida before heading home to Nazareth and the wedding in the nearby village of Cana. When Jesus showed up with the group, with his mother either a close relative or friend of the family, they would have had little choice but to invite and welcomes them all. Of course, the disaster was not entirely the fault of Jesus and his disciples. If five extra people showing up at a wedding caused the wine to run out early, then the organisers were clearly cutting things a bit too fine in their calculations.

However the situation came about, it was a major disaster for the bride and groom. Mary, who was clearly part of the wedding planning group, was one of the few to learn of the problem. Not even the master of ceremonies had yet been told. And Mary goes straight to her son Jesus. Does she do this because his bringing along so many extra guests had contributed to the problem? Does she do this because, even though Jesus had not yet used his divine power in any miraculous way, she knew he was the only one who could intervene? Perhaps a bit of both elements were in play.

What we do know is that Mary goes to her son and says simply, ‘They have no wine.’ The problem could not be more pointedly or clearly stated.

At this point the exchange between Mary and Jesus becomes a little perplexing – at least for the modern reader. Jesus responds to his mother by saying, ‘Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.’

Firstly, we need to deal with the fact Jesus seems to be speaking a bit rudely here to his mother. But this is not the case. The problem is more one of translation. There are many examples from the ancient world of people addressing their mother in this way. Josephus tells of a man who was very fond of his wife calling her ‘Woman,’ Odysseus in Homer’s Odessy calls his wife Penelope ‘Woman’, and Caesar addresses Cleopatra as ‘Woman.’ It is also a word Jesus uses once more in John’s Gospel when he speaks to his mother from the cross. Because we do not speak this way in modern English, there is no good way to translate this. The meaning and tone of what Jesus says here is probably best preserved if we simply leave off the word ‘Woman.’

The next difficulty is that Jesus now uses another phrase that does not translate well. Literally, he says ‘What do you have to do with me?’, but all would agree that it means something like, ‘What does this have to do with us?’ or ‘What concern is that ours?’ And some even that it means something like, ‘Why worry about this. I will take care of it.’

The second part of Jesus’ response to his mother is also somewhat perplexing. He says, ‘My hour has not yet come.’  Jesus often uses this phrase to speak of his coming death. But he also uses it to denote the beginning of his public ministry. Mary simply told Jesus they were out of wine. Is he assuming that she is implying that he should use his divine power, which he has not previously used, at this time? Is he explaining why he is not going to intervene at this point? Most would agree that with only five of his disciples chosen, and none of them with him for even a week, it is too early to launch into signs and wonders. This will start rumours, draw crowds, and accelerate the timetable for his ministry.

In summary, almost everything Jesus says to his mother in response to her informing him of the seriously embarrassing problem with the wedding celebrations, is a bit perplexing. But none of it is as perplexing as Mary’s response. She simply turns to the servants, who likely followed her to the table where Jesus was sitting, and says to them, ‘Do whatever he asks you to do.’

So Jesus basically tells his mother that the shortage of wine is not their concern, then explains why he is not in a position to do anything about it, as it is not yet his time to begin to reveal who he is. And Mary seems to ignore everything he has just said, indeed, acts as if he had just said, ‘Thanks for letting me know about this problem, Mum. I will take care of it.’ And she simply tells the servants to follow his instructions.

Well, you have heard the rest of the story. Jesus asks them to fill with water six large stone jars used to hold the water for ritual washing of hands, feet and dishes as required by Jewish law. Significantly, he did not ask them to fill the empty wine flasks with water. There certainly would have been plenty laying around. The servants do as they are asked. Then Jesus asks them to draw off some of what is in the jars and take it to master of ceremonies. He tastes it, becomes quite excited, and stops the celebrations to make a little speech commending the bridegroom for saving the very highest quality of wine for last, when the guests wouldn’t be likely to notice or care if cheaper wine were brought out.

So what is the significance of this miracle?

First, John, unlike the other gospels, does not call these actions of Jesus miracles, but rather signs, highlighting what they point to. Second, we are told that this was the very first of the signs or miracles of Jesus. And looking at the chronology of miracles in the other gospels, this would precede any recorded in them as well. So it is a very important miracle.

Also, there is clear baptismal and Lord’s supper imagery with the focus on water and wine. It is the first of a series of stories featuring water. And the six jars used to fulfil the ritual washing required by Jewish law clearly are meant to be a contrast to the approach of grace that Jesus brings,> Jesus uses vessels meant to fulfil the law to bring life and joy.

As to what the primary significance of this miracle is, the text itself points us in the right direction. John concludes his account by telling us that in performing this sign Jesus ‘revealed his glory, and his disciples believed in him.’  When John speaks of the glory of Jesus in his gospel he refers to his deity. So something about this miracle must have prompted Jesus’ first disciples, who had already come to believe Jesus was the promised Messiah, to now believe he was far more than this.

But how could this particular, seemingly mundane miracle have led them to this conclusion? In the history of New Testament studies this miracle has often come in for some heavy criticism. In many circles it was common to call it a luxury miracle because it didn’t seem to be necessary, didn’t heal anyone, didn’t show power over the devil, didn’t feed the multitudes. It simply helped a gathering of wedding guests in a small town in Galilee extend their celebrations. How much better it would have been, many suggested, if Jesus’ first miracle had been to heal someone who was lame, or give sight to a blind person, or cure someone of leprosy, or even to resuscitate someone who had died. This would have not only shown Jesus’ power in a more spectacular way, it is argued, but would have also set the tone for the compassionate nature of his ministry.

So was this a missed opportunity? A pointless miracle?

Hardly.

The Jews at Jesus’ time distinguished different categories of miracles, as seen in various Old Testament stories. First, there were miracles of healing. Second, there were miracles that showed control of nature, like the parting the Red Sea or making water flow out of stone. Third there were miracles of extension, for instance multiplying the oil and meal of the widow of Zarephath so that in never ran out. Jesus did all these kinds of miracles in his ministry. He healed the sick and even raised the dead. He walked on water and calmed the storm. And he caused few fish and loaves of bread to not run out, even for a crowd of several thousand. Every miracle that Jesus performed had a close parallel to a miracle performed by Moses or one of the prophets. Every miracle, that is, but one. This one.

This first miracle does not fit into any of these categories according the traditional Jewish understanding.  It is not a healing miracle. It is not a miracle of mere extension. If Jesus had had the empty wine vessels filled with water it might have been argued that the remaining traces of wine had been extended. By using stone water containers, this is not possible. And it is not showing simple control or nature, that is, power over elements that already exist.

But there was a final category of miracle that the Jews knew of. But they did not often consider it in their list of types of miracles because it only happened once, and is only something God himself can do. And that is a miracle of creation. Jesus creates something out of something that was not. He creates wine where there was not wine. This sign of Jesus could only be considered a miracle of creation. And in the traditional Jewish understanding, only God creates and this only happened in the account of creation recorded at the beginning of Genesis. An account John has strongly alluded to in his opening words of the gospel. So the association of God and the act of creation would be at the top of readers’ minds.

By performing this miracle first, Jesus begins his ministry not with a mundane or pointless miracle. He begins it with a miracle that shows that he is God. It is the only such miracle of creation Jesus performs. Every other miracle performed by Jesus is done to help those in need or distress. But this first miracle is different. It fits with an overarching theme of John’s gospel, which begins with the claim that the Word, or Jesus, is God. The gospel of John makes the claim the Jesus is God more often and more explicitly than any of the other gospels. It is only fitting that the first miracle, or sign, performed by Jesus and recorded by John should underscore who Jesus is. Jesus begins his ministry with a seemingly small act. But it is one that shows who he is. The creator, God himself come to us on earth.

Imagine that. The Creator of the universe cared enough to save a wedding celebration in a village in Galilee. One wonders what a God like that will do next. A God like that is a God we can believe in, like the disciples did. He is a God who cares for us in our ordinary concerns of life, both the joys and sorrows. He is a God who reveals his glory in Christ. A God who reveals his glory, his deity, in ordinary things. A God who reveals his glory and care for us, finally and indelibly, on the cross. This a God that we, too, can believe in.

Amen.

Pastor Mark Worthing.

Freedom to do whatever.

The Text: 1 Corinthians 8:1-13

 

Just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should.peters
You might recognise this type of phrase if you have one of those pedantic parents who like to use every opportunity to educate you on the technicalities of the English language, such as when you asked such a question like: “Can I have a Tim Tam?”
Your mother may have answered: Yes, you can, but you may not.”

 When you look at her with frustration she may have then gone on to say something like: “’Can I?’ is a question which asks about ability, where the question ‘May I?’ asks permission. So, yes, you can have a Tim Tam biscuit because you’re quite capable of going and getting it, holding it in your own fingers, and feeding yourself. However, you may not be permitted to have a Tim Tam right now because it’ll spoil your appetite for dinner.”

So yes, there are many things you can do, but that doesn’t mean you should.

St Paul uses a similar argument in regard to our freedom as Christians.

An example Paul cites is one about food offered to idols (which at first glance doesn’t seem like it would apply to us today).

The context for this question is this:

In Corinth there were many temples and shrines to various idols and false gods, which used animal sacrifices as part of their offerings so their idols and gods might favour or bless them. These sacrificial meats would either be a) left at the altar to these false gods, b) eaten by the people who worshipped there for their special celebrations with family and friends, or c) later taken to the marketplace and sold.

The question raised was: are Christians allowed to eat any of these meats, even though they’ve been sacrificed to false gods? And, even if they could normally avoid buying some of these meats, what happens if they’re invited to a friend’s house who are serving up meats originally offered to idols? Do they refuse and risk offending their hosts? Or, do they eat these meats without a care in the world, but risk alienating some of their own fellowship who would be offended by the fact they’re eating these meats?

In response, it’s quite likely some Christians were saying: “But we know those are false gods. We know the idols are just wood or gold or stone. We know there’s just one true God. We know this food isn’t going to get us any closer to Jesus or push us further away. It’s just plain food because those idols don’t really exist anyway. So therefore, why don’t we just go ahead and eat these temple meals!”

On the other hand, some might be also saying: “But we’ve left those types of practices in our past because we now have faith in Jesus as our Lord and God. He’s the only one we should worship. He’s the only one we should call upon to bless our food and families and service. Plus, if we live like everyone else, then how will anyone know we’re Christian? Look, I believe it’s so serious that, if any of you eat these meats, then I’m not sure your faith is genuine anymore and I’m scared you may be in danger of falling away from faith in Jesus and going back to your old ways of idolatry!”

So, what’s Paul’s advice to this divided congregation who couldn’t agree on a solution, especially where there’s no clear instruction from God about what’s commanded or forbidden?

His solution is both a ‘yes’ and a ‘no’, but he also explains why, which will also help us when faced with similar dilemmas.

Firstly: “Yes, you can eat this meat, at least in the privacy of your home, since you know the idol is false and misleading, and you don’t at all mean to worship it.”

But later on, in chapter 10 (where he talks about eating this meat in public), he says: “No, you can’t be a part of those temple meals in public, even if it’s just a social gathering. In that public meal at the temple you’re participating with any demons who may be present there. To eat that meal in public would also give the wrong witness to those who are struggling to stay faithful to Jesus.”

But you may wonder, what does it matter if they were to eat these meats privately or publicly?

Well, because it’s not all about you.

The exercising of any rights by individuals in a Christian congregation should always be less important than the common rights of a Christian community and for the sake of its unity, especially if there are some within its midst who are weaker in conscience.

In this case, because it might offend your brothers or sisters in Christ, you can eat these meats (at least in private), but you may not (especially in public) for the sake of their faith.

You see, love (and especially Christian love which always considers everyone else as more important than you) always builds up. Your love for your fellow Christians is always more important than your own individual freedom or rights.

This argument can then be used for almost every other situation in the church.

For example, imagine a congregation which is considering relocating the church’s bible from the altar to the lectern. While many like to have the bible on the altar to show its centrality to our worship, it also makes sense to put it where we’ll actually use it. The bible readings are read from the lectern instead of the altar, so that would be a more practical and liturgical place to put it there.

Let’s say this congregation discusses the pros and cons and puts it to the vote. The result is nearly unanimous that they should move the bible to the lectern. Then one member might stand up and say: “If that bible moves off the altar, I won’t attend worship here!”

Now, no matter what you think of such ultimatums, this congregation, out of love for this one person, might in the end agree they could move the bible, but choose not to. They might exercise both their Christian freedom and their love for their fellow member. They might choose to build up the body of Christ in love instead of dividing it over rights and entitlements and democratic votes.

Of course, this doesn’t always happen.

How many times have families and churches become divided because one person (or a number of people), choose to exercise their own rights or privileges over against their love for their brothers and sisters in Christ? How many times has the unity of the church been held to ransom by an individual or a minority group? How many times have people stopped coming to worship because of what they saw and heard fellow Christians saying or doing what they shouldn’t have?

The basic problem is our selfish desire to serve ourselves, which often puts us on a slippery slope of confrontation and division within communities.

For example:

Let’s say I want something. It may even be a good thing to want or expect. But then I have an unmet expectation because I’m not getting what I want. I still think I’m right (or at least I believe I have a right to my expectation or desire), and so I get frustrated because I’m not getting what I want. Because I’m frustrated, it doesn’t take long before I start demanding to be satisfied. When my demands aren’t met, I’m then likely to judge you’re getting in the way of what I want, and so I’ll punish you!

How quickly we often go from having a desire to becoming judge, jury, and executioner!

But an unintended result of our own desires or demands or expectations is (no matter how noble they are); when weaker Christians see or experience our lack of love for each other, they can quickly despair of their faith and fall through the gaps of a fractured community.

Too many times love and unity have taken a back seat (or been locked away in the boot), when love and unity should have been driving all our thoughts, words, and actions.

So, when St Paul talks about food sacrificed to idols (which at first doesn’t seem to apply to us today), we unintentionally become the self-made idols or gods who expect everyone else to sacrifice themselves to our whims and desires.

We make it sound like they must all bow to our desires. They must pay the price when they don’t do what we want.

The common theme running through most of the New Testament letters (and especially from those written by St Paul), is for Christians to practice love and unity. If anyone is to sacrifice themselves and their own desires or intentions, it is the stronger Christians who will always give up their rights and privileges for the sake of others.

Now, this doesn’t mean we should reduce our teachings or our practices to the lowest common denominator, because there are certain things which are clearly commanded or forbidden by God. We don’t compromise on what God teaches in his word. But it’s often in those matters which are neither commanded nor forbidden that we often make into the most divisive ultimatums and fodder for our fights.

Paul is saying here that Christian love will always seek to build those weaker in conscience. Christian love will always seek to build up the church and sacrifice itself for unity in the body of Christ. Christian love will always concern itself with the conscience of those weaker in conscience. Christian love will always model itself on the person and loving sacrifice of Jesus Christ.

You see, Jesus didn’t come to demand or punish or condemn; saying that we should be sacrificed for his sake. He was sacrificed for our sake.

He came to satisfy his Father’s demand for someone to pay for all the times we’re selfish. He came to be punished for all the times we try to get our own way (as if we’re the idol or god who should be obeyed). He was the one condemned and sacrificed for self-serving people like you and me.

Thankfully, no matter how much we’ve hurt or offended others because of our own desires or demands, we’re reminded that, where the blood of Cain once cried out for justice, Jesus’ blood instead now cries out for our forgiveness and mercy, and through faith we’re now innocent and washed clean by this undeserving grace and sacrificial love.

Of course, there’ll still be many more questions the church will be faced with. Some of them will threaten to divide us or trouble the consciences of those weaker in conscience. In each case, God’s word (which includes the divinely inspired letters from Paul and other New Testament writers), is our guiding light to decide on all matters of faith, doctrine and life.

But we also learn today that, whenever we come across a question of “Can I?” or “Can we?” in matters which are neither commanded or forbidden, we’re to instead ask: “May we?”

After all, just because we can do something, doesn’t mean we should, especially if it affects the body of Christ or those weaker in conscience. Amen.

When we consider these questions, we’re to remember the guiding principle of the love of Christ which always seeks to build up the Christian community and preserve it in loving unity. That loving unity is more important than getting our own way, no matter how noble our desires are. Amen.