given

 

Seventh Sunday of Easter: Lectionary readings Acts 1.6-14 and John 17.1-11.

God the Father sends Jesus the Son into the world, and gives people to him so that they might know and be drawn into the Love they share. The Son, in turn, will send the people whom the Father has given him to the world, that others might know and be drawn into that same embrace: to experience peace within themselves (which is no small feat) and with their neighbours and with God.

The people the Father gave to the Son included ‘Peter, and John, and James, and Andrew, Philip and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James son of Alphaeus, and Simon the Zealot, and Judas son of James.’ (Acts 1.13)

Peter is a nickname. His parents called him Simon, but Jesus called him Peter, which means rocky. Jesus told a parable about a sower sowing seed on various soil. The seed that fell on rocky ground sprung up quickly but wilted just as quickly in the heat of the sun. This, he said, described those who responded to the message of God’s reconciling love with enthusiasm, but fell away as soon as living in that love turned hard. Jesus knew what he was doing when he called Simon, Peter: one who is all in, and then out; all in again, and out again.

Jesus also gave a nickname to the brothers John and James, ‘the sons of commotion.’ When the Aramaic word proved unfamiliar to the Roman audience of his Gospel, Mark reached for ‘thunderstorm.’ John and James brought the drama.

Andrew is the only obvious choice on the list of people the Father gave the Son. At what we would call primary school, Jewish children committed the Torah (the first five books of the Bible, Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy) to heart. Then most left schooling to apprentice to their father’s trade. But the most promising continued with school alongside that, committing, over several years, the rest of the Bible (what we know as the Old Testament) to memory. And the best of the best might then apprentice to a rabbi, before becoming a rabbi themselves, one whose position in the community was to help others live life fully and well. When we first meet him, Andrew is already a disciple of rabbi John the Baptiser, before John tells Andrew that he has taken him as far as he can, and now he must apprentice to rabbi Jesus instead. Andrew, at least, is an obvious choice.

Philip has a popular Greek name. He is an immigrant, the child of immigrants. Were this twentifirst century England, Philip would be Muhammad; and he was likely as popular then as immigrants are here and now.

Thomas means the Twin. But we never meet Thomas’ twin. If this is his name, rather than a nickname, perhaps he was the twin who survived birth, his parents wanting him to know that he was not alone in the womb. That would be very common. Or perhaps both twins survived, but later had a falling out. Whatever, there is a hole in Thomas’ life. After the resurrection, Jesus invites Thomas to put his hand in the hole in Jesus’ side, to discover that holes can be filled. Perhaps you can identify with Thomas.

Bartholomew is another nickname, possibly belonging to Nathaniel. It means the Giant’s Offspring. Specifically, Talmai (Hebrew, or Ptolomy in Greek). Talmai was one of the Nephilim, a cross breed with fallen angels for fathers and human mothers. Giants and monsters. Watch out, here comes Bartholomew. The freak. The monster. Imagine the other kids closing one eye and crying out, Cyclops, Cyclops. Perhaps you can identify with Bartholomew.

Matthew is a gambler. A tax collector. To raise capital for public works, the Romans would auction the rights to collect tax in a given area. Effectively a private loan to government, in the hope that you might collect the expected level of tax—or more—but with the risk that you might not. Like playing the stock market. Tax collectors were despised. The testimony of a tax collector was inadmissible in court—so, of course, the Holy Spirit would choose Matthew to write an account of Jesus’ life.

James son of Alpheus lived in the shadow of James the brother of John (and also in the shadow of his own brother, Matthew). The Church would come to call him James the Less, to tell him apart from James the Great (though James the Great would eventually have his head removed by a sword, making him, well, less). Perhaps you can identify with living in the shadow of someone else.

Simon the Zealot was a Patriot. One who co-opted religion to justify violence against ‘the other’—or who might justify resorting to violence to protect religious cultural identity. If this was today, he would fit right in at a rally organised by Stephen Yaxley-Lennon. He would hate Philip, and Matthew, for different reasons. And the Father gives him to the Son, to find reconciliation. The agenda is not Make Israel Great Again, but, see beyond your tribe to a common humanity, a brother- and sisterhood.

We don’t really know much about Judas son of James. Some think he was the same Judas who wrote the Letter from Jude; some don’t. But Judas son of James is also known, forever, as ‘Judas—no, not that one.’

It is hardly a promising list. As noted, Andrew is the only obvious choice. Except that if the purpose is to experience reconciliation—the healing power of Love—then this is precisely the kind of list you might choose. Almost as if God knows what God is doing.

Here’s the thing. If you find yourself drawn to Jesus, you are one of the people whom the Father has given to the Son, to discover and come to peace through Love—and whom the Son sends into the world to carry (through our actions as well as—and perhaps even more than—our words) that good news.

And so are the people you might find sitting around you when the church gathers.

Like the first people the Father gave to the Son, we are a motley crew. But that, too, is good news, because it is relatable.