un/aware

 

I wonder when you first became aware of the presence of Jesus?

Perhaps you were a child. If you are old enough now, perhaps it was kneeling by your bed saying your prayers before bed, though I suspect this generation has all but passed. Though if you are a Boomer or Gen X, and grew up in the UK, your mental image of Jesus was probably shaped by pictures like the one shared below, which hangs near the front at St Nicholas’ Church. Scandinavian Jesus, with flowing blonde hair and beard and blue eyes. Bjorn Borg at Wimbledon.

I wonder when you first lost awareness of Jesus?

It may have been in the wake of a bereavement, the death of someone you loved. Or in the suffering they endured before dying. It may have simply been that life, in all its busyness, got in the way. Or that the more you learnt about the world, whether its injustices or the wonders described by science, that the stories you heard told in church became implausible. For too many, it may have been a growing awareness of the gulf between what the Church proclaimed and how the Church acted, or between what the Church proclaimed and what Jesus proclaimed; and if this is your story, I am truly sorry. For others, who remained in church, it may have been that church itself changed, and something that had been deeply important to you was left behind (this, too, is bereavement).

I wonder when you became aware of Jesus’ presence again?

And, how that awareness grew. Often, as something intangible, a sense inside the body, that might be described as a burning—warming—of the heart, long before the understanding catches up. An integration of the life lost within the life we have now.

This repeated process, of becoming aware of the presence of Jesus, losing that awareness, and later becoming aware again, is the process by which we move from a naïve faith to a more mature faith; from rules (that train us) to freedom to love well; and from a dependency on certainty of knowledge, to peace with not needing to have all the answers. The disciples on the road to Emmaus move from not recognising Jesus, to seeing him, to not seeing him but now having a faith deeper than sight.

This is the process by which we leave behind that which has served us well (enough) in the past (even Scandi Jesus) but will not (cannot) serve us now. And how we differentiate between Jesus, and all the trappings.

This is the Way. And as we walk on it, we are accompanied by Jesus, whether we recognise his presence (at times) or not.

 

on peace

 

‘When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’’

John 20.19

‘Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’’ John 20.21

‘A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’’ John 20.26

Twice, just three days after he was tortured and executed, and again seven days later, Jesus says to his apprentices, ‘Peace be with you.’

This would appear to be important, the heart of his message. The word ‘peace’ means wholeness, to be at one with (within) yourself. How can someone so recently and so thoroughly broken apart proclaim wholeness?

It has been said that trauma is not what happens to us, but what happens within us in the absence of empathetic witnesses. (This is why doctors’ bedside manner matters so much in emergency care.)

Jesus went through unimaginable pain, but—contrary to popular belief—was not alone. We know that several of his female apprentices and at least one of the men were at the foot of the cross. The others stood at a distance, looking on, as much as they could bear. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus will lower Jesus’ body from the cross, wash it and anoint it with spices, and lay it in a tomb. Several of the women saw where they laid him. When the women later return and find the tomb empty, Peter and another apprentice—traditionally identified as John but perhaps Lazarus, who himself had walked out of a tomb and would have a particular interest in witnessing that again—ran to the tomb to see for themselves. That they were not taken there by the women, but ran straight there, implies that they, too, had been participating witnesses in Jesus’ burial.

Most of all, it has been claimed that on the cross, God—the Father—could not bear to look. Songwriters have penned words, describing the Father turning his face away. But this is to fundamentally misunderstand the text. When Jesus cries out, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ he is not describing his experience but praying a psalm, Psalm 22, exploring the appearance of abandonment, precisely to reach out and hold fast to the God who is, in fact, there with us and for us. As he hangs from the executioners’ scaffold, the sky turns black. When God descends, as on mount Sinai, he cloaks himself in thick darkness, so that the people do not die of fright. The sky turns black because the Father has come to hold his Son’s outstretched hand and look upon his beautiful face.

Jesus does not suffer and die alone, but surrounded by empathetic witnesses. And he returns, showing his wounds, not simply to prove that it is he and not some other, but, in a safe space, to take his apprentices back to their own place of unbearable suffering, where each one of them felt abandoned and without empathic witness, and therefore experienced trauma.

Jesus takes them back, right into that place, so close, so real, that they can reach out and touch his wounds. And in revisiting that place, not alone but with the one who has died and been raised to life again, they, too, are empowered to let go. To lower the defences they have thrown up to protect themselves. To experience healing. To be brought back to a place of wholeness.

This is what Jesus does for them.

This is what Jesus wants to do for us, too.

To stand alongside us in the place of our deepest hurt, and speak the word we most need to hear, ‘Peace be with you.’

This is a process, not a one-off event. It is the process that Jesus’ apprentices, the Church, are called to participate in. To be a community that is becoming whole, moving from trauma to peace, as we see one another’s wounds—and his—with love.

 

John 20.19-31

‘When it was evening on that day, the first day of the week, and the doors of the house where the disciples had met were locked for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ After he said this, he showed them his hands and his side. Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, ‘Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’

‘But Thomas (who was called the Twin), one of the twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples told him, ‘We have seen the Lord.’ But he said to them, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.’ A week later his disciples were again in the house, and Thomas was with them. Although the doors were shut, Jesus came and stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’ Then he said to Thomas, ‘Put your finger here and see my hands. Reach out your hand and put it in my side. Do not doubt but believe.’ Thomas answered him, ‘My Lord and my God!’ Jesus said to him, ‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’

‘Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.’

 

on the raising of the dead

 

If we accept, even hypothetically, that God can raise the dead, a question arises about timing. Why is Lazarus raised on the fourth day, and Jesus on the third day, after their respective deaths?

In the epic poem that opens the book of Genesis (and, therefore, the library we know as the Bible) the fourth day is the day on which God calls the sun, moon, and stars, conferring on them a vocation to mark night from day, and season from season. (To ask how there could be days before there was sun or moon is to miss the point: this is not creation, but vocation. A day is a day, and a night is a night, even when the sun, moon, and stars are totally obscured by cloud cover.) In his account of the good news of Jesus, or Gospel, John makes much of the symbolism of deeds done during the day and deeds done at night; between the things Jesus does to bring freedom to others, and the things his enemies plot to take him prisoner. In this, Lazarus is the moon to Jesus’ sun, marking the arrival of Jesus’ ‘Passion,’ of the time (night) where he is ‘done to’ (paschō) rather than ‘doing’ (poiō).

The third day is the day on which God draws land—the soil from which God will draw out the human being—from the flood of sea, which, in the poetic imagination of the Bible represents chaos and death. This is also the day on which God calls forth the first vegetation—the first fruits of the fruit-bearing plants. Jesus’ resurrection is presented as the return of human beings from death, not as a never-to-be-repeated event but as the first fruit of something that will, at some future point, become universal.

So not only raising from the dead, but also the specific timing of these events, is significant; makes a statement concerning the story in which we find ourselves.

 

Easter Sunday

 

This Easter Sunday at St Nicholas Church, we celebrated the resurrection with the ancient practice of baptising someone who has joined our church family since last Easter.

Whenever I speak at a baptism, I try to make a connection between the candidate’s name and the story of faith found in the Bible. And today, with Roxanne, it was easy. Roxanne means radiant, or bright (and she really does live into her name) and in our Gospel reading an angel descends from heaven, ‘His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow.’ Radiant. Now, ‘angel’ means ‘messenger,’ sent by God, sometimes a heavenly being, sometimes a human being. Today we commissioned Roxanne to be a messenger sent by God.

The angel, and then Jesus himself, have the same message for the women: do not be afraid; go and tell.

Do not be afraid, or do not fear, is the most-repeated Instruction we are given in the Bible—which says something about being human. And I wonder who or what you are afraid of?

Some of you might be here today because you know and love Jesus, but you are afraid to tell others about him. I want to say to you that there are half a dozen or more adults who have become part of our church who weren’t part of any church a year ago. If you tell someone about Jesus, they might have been waiting for you to do just that. Even if they aren’t interested, what’s the worst that can happen? Easter tells us that the worst thing that can happen does not get the last word, and God will honour those who trust him with their fear.

It may be that you are afraid of God. Many people are. Many people have been taught that God is quick to disapprove, quick to get angry; that if we step out of line, he will strike us down with a lightning bolt. This is blasphemy. God reveals himself to Moses as full of loving-kindness, slow to anger—and even when he does get angry, he is not violent but moved to pity; faithful to his nature even when we are faithless.

In our first reading this morning we heard Jesus’ friend Peter proclaim, ‘I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.’ The point is not that if you want to be acceptable to God you must fear him; but that if you are afraid of God, you need to know that you are acceptable to him.

In the Wisdom section of the library we call the Bible, we learn that the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom. Everything else described as ‘of the Lord’—the arm of the Lord, the mountain of the Lord, the angel of the Lord—belongs to God, not us. The fear of the Lord is giving what we are afraid of to God and saying, this is yours now. That is what Jesus did in the Garden of Gethsemane. Of all the things we might be afraid of—some with good reason—God isn’t meant to be one of them. Jesus comes into the world so that we might know that, in him, God is with us, and for us.

Finally, some of you might be afraid of death. We live in a society that is petrified of dying, that is in total denial of death. It is almost a civic duty to Botox, to not allow yourself to visibly age. But denial is never healthy. The will of the Father is that the Son should become human; should live, and die, as humans do. The Father glorifies the Son for this faithfulness by raising him from the dead. And so we can face our own mortality, because Jesus says to us: Do not be afraid; I have walked this way ahead of you, and I will walk this way again alongside you. I know what lies beyond.

Do not be afraid. That is the message of Easter. That doesn’t mean that we won’t ever be afraid of anything or anyone; it means that we are instructed, again, to place that fear in the hands of Jesus.

That is the message I want you to hear today. Do not be afraid. Go and tell.

Acts 10.34-43

‘Then Peter began to speak to them: ‘I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ-he is Lord of all. That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree; but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.’’

Matthew 28.1-10

‘After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’ So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’’

 

you are what you eat

 

Summary: over-identified tribalism blinds us to the grace of God at work in and through people who do not look like us.

It has been said, ‘You are what you eat.’ Everyone eats, but what you eat, and how you eat, is inseparable from cultural and religious identity. Just across the street from my vicarage, I can eat Chinese or Indian food, sometimes pizza (this takeaway is more often ‘between owners’ than it is a going concern), fish and chips — our national dish, originating with Jewish immigrants — or a traditional ‘British’ carvery. We are a nation of immigrants, and we are all shaped by all of the other immigrants. Some are pushing us to be ‘a nation of strangers,’ but that would be a violation of who we are. The table has always been the God-given mechanism for transforming strangers into friends.

There is a significant moment in the story of the Church that is recounted (in fact, this story is recounted more than once) in the Acts of the Apostles. Peter is praying on the flat rooftop — the space for hospitality, for entertaining guests — when he has a vision. He sees a vessel, like a sheet, lowered from heaven. It contains many animals and birds that, as a Jew, he was prohibited from eating. He hears a voice instructing him to rise (as from the dead), sacrifice what had previously been an unacceptable sacrifice, and eat. This he refused to do, for he was an observant Jew. But the voice from heaven told him that God had now redesignated these creatures as permissible food. Three times, Peter is instructed to eat. Three times, he refuses. Then the vessel is withdrawn up to heaven. Immediately after this, a delegation arrives searching for Peter, asking that he comes with them to the home of a Roman centurion, and Peter understands that the vision was a form of preparation for this moment.

The Law of Moses gave instructions concerning what the Jews could eat, and how it was to be prepared, and also what they were prohibited from eating. These serve as a cultural marker. To live in the world as part of this people, of all the peoples of the earth, is to embrace certain parameters. You are what you eat.

This does not mean that other people, who eat according to different scripts, are inferior in any way, including morally. It is simply a way of being distinguishable, as a person embedded within a community.

Labels are helpful. They can also become unhelpful. I am autistic. This helps me to recognise that I am not a law unto myself, but part of something bigger; and that that thing in itself is part of something bigger still, the whole neurodiversity of human experience. But if I allow myself to conclude that being autistic makes me better than allistic people, I have missed the point. The same applies to any label or marker that might describe me, in part, shaping who I am.

As a consequence of entering the home of a Roman as their guest, Peter faces excommunication by a group of hard-line believers whose identity is overly bound-up in the cultural markers of circumcision (in my English translation, they describe the Gentiles as uncircumcised, which sounds purely descriptive; but in fact they are using a slur) and dietary rules. In their eyes, he is no longer one of them.

These men have already made a distinction between themselves and the wider group of believers of whom they are a part. They are the ones, in their own eyes, who are really serious, really committed, true believers. But their over-identification has caused them to be agitated in spirit — not only agitated against others, but agitated within themselves. Peter meets their hostility with grace, and this grace moves them from agitation to a state of quietened spirit, of being at rest within themselves, of being at peace — within themselves as well as with their neighbour. This is the work of the Holy Spirit — whom, Peter affirms, has been given to the Gentile believers just as to the Jewish believers. Their spirits quietened, his erstwhile accusers are able to recognise that God can bring about life-embracing change in others, without their needing to become like them. Healthy assimilation looks like embracing diversity, not uniformity. Is it possible that they recognised the same gift of repentance — the ability to change, to embrace life in its fullness — at work in themselves?

The Church has never managed to grow beyond hard-liners, those who labour in missing the point — who, as Jesus put it, refuse the grace of God for themselves and prevent others from accessing it too. In neurodivergent language, those who require those who are different to them to mask in order to be accepted (tolerated).

But neither has the Church ever managed to grow beyond the grace of God, who gives the Holy Spirit, empowering change, enabling us to embrace a vision that extends beyond our own cultural and religious markers.

‘You are what you eat.’ ‘What God has made clean, you must not call profane.’

 

on glory

 

Summary: we should be slow to excommunicate others, as the glory of God is revealed through them in ways we have (as yet) failed to comprehend.

Fifth Sunday of Easter: Acts 11.1-18 and John 13.31-35.

If there is a theme connecting these two readings, it is recognising God’s glory. The reading from Acts ends with a group of men glorifying (to ascribe value) God (somewhat lost in the NRSVA translation, ‘they praised God’). The reading from John’s Gospel starts with Jesus saying, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once.’

The context for recognising God’s glory in the passage from Acts is that the men who recognised God’s glory had planned to excommunicate Peter (to separate themselves from him, to judge him as no longer one of them; again, somewhat lost in the translation ‘criticized’) but their troubled spirits were quietened/brought to rest/at peace, by Peter’s step-by-step explanation of why he had eaten with Gentiles, whom his hard-line critics referred to by a racial slur. God’s glory is seen not in purity of observance — neither orthodoxy nor orthopraxy — but in divine initiative expanding who is included in the life God gives: who may participate in the risen life of the risen Jesus, that quality of life that triumphs over death. (This is the instruction Peter hears from heaven, first to get up — rise, with Christ — and then to offer a previously unacceptable sacrifice that has been redesignated acceptable to God, by God.) The validity of transformation in the Gentiles was not determined by conformity to the expectations and demands of Peter’s accusers (though the new Gentile believers would be asked to embrace minimal accommodations to the sensibilities of their Jewish brothers).

The context for recognising God’s glory in the passage from John is the highly ambiguous preceding verses, in which Jesus reveals that one of his apprentices will betray/entrust him into the hands of another; Jesus shares bread with Judas; Satan — the Accuser — enters into Judas after the bread; Jesus instructs Judas?/Satan? to do what he must do, quickly; having taken hold of the bread, as an act of volition, Judas/Satan escapes/goes out. God is glorified, and glorifies Jesus, through the ambiguous actions of those who oppose him — who, intending to betray Jesus into the hands of those seeking to kill him, in fact entrust him into the hands of the Father — and the equally mysterious actions of Jesus towards Judas/Satan, who does not depart before, in essence, receiving communion. Jesus then reinforces his actions, mandating that his apprentices should wish one another well/take pleasure in/esteem one another in the same way that he — who had just shared bread with Judas — had done. This enemy-love will be — above all else — the revelation to the watching world that they are his apprentices.

When Peter eats with Roman soldiers, and accepts them as brothers and fellow heirs of the life God gives, he is participating in the life of the risen Jesus.

Whenever we claim that a group of people are outside the scope of transformation God has wrought in Jesus, unless they conform to our understanding of that life, we side with those who moved to excommunicate Peter. In the grace of God, they received the gift of being able to change. May that be our story too.

 

learning to rise

 

The seven weeks between Easter Sunday and Pentecost are a Season of the Resurrection, a season in which the Church is invited once again to learn how to live our lives in the light of Jesus’ resurrection and as a participation in Jesus’ resurrection.

Throughout this annual season, the Church reads and meditates on the Acts of the Apostles.

The Gospel passage set for Holy Communion today begins like this: Jesus said, ‘No one can come to me unless drawn by the Father who sent me; and I will raise that person up [άναστήσω, ‘will raise up’: from άνίστημι, to raise, to rise, to stand up, to resurrect, to rise from among the dead] on the last day’ (John 6.44) and it is paired with an extract from Acts that begins ‘Then an angel of the Lord said to Philip, ‘Get up [Άνάστηθι, ‘rise up’: from άνίστημι] and go towards the south to the road that goes down from Jerusalem to Gaza.’ (This is a wilderness road.)’ (Acts 8.26).

The reading from Acts set for this coming Sunday, Acts 9.36-43, tells us that at the request of two messengers, ‘Peter got up [Άναστάς, ‘having risen up’: from άνίστημι] and went with them’ (Acts 9.39) … ‘He turned to the body [of Tabitha, who had died] and said, ‘Tabitha, get up.’ [άνάστηθι, ‘arise!’: from άνίστημι] Then she opened her eyes, and seeing Peter, she sat up. He gave her his hand and helped her up [άνέστησεν, ‘he raised up’: from άνίστημι].’ (Acts 9.40b-41a).

That is to say, there is a repeated theme – here illustrated by Philip, Peter, and Tabitha – of participating in the risen life of Jesus.

The point is not that this life is a rehearsal for the life to come, but that the life to come has already begun.

Here is the thing: I rose up this morning, and so (unless you are reading this in bed, having not yet got up) did you. Whether rising willingly or unwillingly, gladly or reluctantly, I rose up yesterday and today and God-willing I shall rise up tomorrow. And each opportunity to rise is an invitation to participate in the risen life of Jesus. Each rising is a response to that invitation. I am alive today – as opposed to merely existing – because he lives: because I live ‘through him, and with him, and in him’ and he in me.

And if I rise this day, it is to bring life to others. To raise up those who need hope, need purpose, need that quality of life that triumphs over sin and death, over all that separates us from God and our neighbour, and even our very selves. To know this life at work in my own life and to give it away knowing that it will never run out.

This way of living is what we are called to discover and rediscover in this season. The Season of the Resurrection.

 

these

 

John Chapter 20 ends like this:

‘Now Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not written in this book. But these are written so that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.’

John 20.30, 31

That would be an enigmatic end. Except that John carries on immediately:

‘After these things Jesus showed himself again to his disciples by the Sea of Tiberias; and he showed himself in this way...’

John 21.1

And as the story unfolds:

‘When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love [agapas] me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love [philō] you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”’

John 21.15

[A note: agapas has to do with choice, with choosing to accept that which is best for the other, whether it is our preference or not; philō has to do with emotion, and we do not choose our emotional reactions, though we do have some degree of choice over how we will behave in response and we can train our responses.]

But these are written...After these things...do you love me more than these?

Jesus asks Peter if he will choose, again and again, to love Jesus more than the adventures they have shared together. And to live out that love in serving others, after Jesus returns to the Father.

And John asks his reader to do the same. To choose to love and so to trust in Jesus, beyond the stories recorded about him. Because the stories that are written down must come to an end, but there is more, so much more. Jesus is still performing signs that reveal the glory of God in the world today. John wants us to participate in that life, life to the full.

I love the stories of Jesus. But if you were to ask me which was my favourite, I might just have to reply: I am not sure it has happened yet.

The actual end of John gives us the enigmatic conclusion hinted at a Chapter earlier:

‘But there are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.’

John 21.25

 

Alleluia. Christ is risen.

 

‘Alleluia. Christ is risen.’
‘He is risen indeed. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.’

The Church professes that ‘For our sake he [Jesus] was crucified under Pontius Pilate; he suffered death and was buried. On the third day he rose again in accordance with the Scriptures’ (extract, the Nicene Creed). This I believe.

Sometime before dawn on the third day, Jesus rose from the dead, bringing to an end the old order of sin and death and ushering in the new order of love and life.

But I am moved by the gracious wisdom of the Church that says, ‘Do not attempt to take this truth in, in just a day: this truth must be met, again and again, over fifty days.’ The Season of Easter is ten days longer than Lent, ten days longer than Christmas and Epiphany combined, roughly twice as long as Advent. Fifty days.

In the gracious wisdom of the Church, Jesus does not even appear in person in the Gospel reading set for today, Luke 24.1-12. The women who return to the tomb to do the job of embalming Jesus’ corpse properly must trust in the evidence of the stone rolled away, the absence of a body, the testimony of two men (angels?) in dazzling clothes, and the words Jesus had said to prepare them for this day. And I love this, because is this not where we are, invited to trust on this evidence? Like the male apprentices, we must trust the witness of the women—or else reject their testimony as an idle tale.

Too often, the testimony of women is dismissed, their story silenced, by men and indeed by other women. Yet (and perhaps for this very reason) it is to women—to the very large group of his female apprentices—that God entrusts the good news of the mighty resurrection of his Son. For the foolishness of God is greater than the wisdom of the world, and the weakness of God is more powerful than the world’s idea of strength.

If you find the resurrection disturbing, you are not alone. Indeed, it is disturbing, disrupting. But this is our hope: that the one who, in his body, is fully God and fully human has taken upon himself our life and our death that we might be joined to him in his death and his life, and that through him and with him and in him all things shall be made new.

‘Alleluia. Christ is risen.’
‘He is risen indeed. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia.’

 

The Cross

 

The Cross:

a place to explore second chances, finding peace, what we do with our worries, leaving behind any we choose to bring to God …

and to learn about the crucifixion – and why the story does not end there.

 

Luke 23.32-43

Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.’ And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, ‘He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!’ The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, ‘If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!’ There was also an inscription over him, ‘This is the King of the Jews.’

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, ‘Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!’ But the other rebuked him, saying, ‘Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.’ Then he said, ‘Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ He replied, ‘Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.’

 

Have you ever had an answer to prayer?

Have you fulfilled your potential?

Where do you go to find peace?

 

Questions taken from https://table-talk.org/friends/

 

Is there something heavy you have been carrying (for example, anxiety about a situation in your life) that you would like to leave with God?

Take a nail from one of the bowls. Hold it in your hand. Think about the thing that you want to leave behind with God, and ask for the grace (that is, a gift from God) to do so.

Then hammer the nail into the cross, and when you are ready, walk away.

 

The Big Chair

 

The Big Chair:

a space to explore big issues such as who has power to change the world; to think about what we would ask God or what we would do if we were God for one day …

and to learn about Jesus on trial before Pilate and Herod.

 

Luke 23.1-12

Then the assembly rose as a body and brought Jesus before Pilate. They began to accuse him, saying, ‘We found this man perverting our nation, forbidding us to pay taxes to the emperor, and saying that he himself is the Messiah, a king.’ Then Pilate asked him, ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’ He answered, ‘You say so.’ Then Pilate said to the chief priests and the crowds, ‘I find no basis for an accusation against this man.’ But they were insistent and said, ‘He stirs up the people by teaching throughout all Judea, from Galilee where he began even to this place.’

When Pilate heard this, he asked whether the man was a Galilean. And when he learned that he was under Herod’s jurisdiction, he sent him off to Herod, who was himself in Jerusalem at that time. When Herod saw Jesus, he was very glad, for he had been wanting to see him for a long time, because he had heard about him and was hoping to see him perform some sign. He questioned him at some length, but Jesus gave him no answer. The chief priests and the scribes stood by, vehemently accusing him. Even Herod with his soldiers treated him with contempt and mocked him; then he put an elegant robe on him, and sent him back to Pilate. That same day Herod and Pilate became friends with each other; before this they had been enemies.

 

What questions would you ask God if you had the chance?

Why do you think today’s world is in such a mess?

Does it really matter who is in power?

What is the most significant world issue?

 

Questions taken from https://table-talk.org/friends/

 

This is a space to pray for the world.

You might want to pray about a Big Issue, such as war or climate change, or something closer to home, such as praying for your school or for a friend or family member.

Take a glass bead in your hand and use it to represent your prayer. Place it on the steps, to symbolise presenting your request before God. If you pray for a global situation, you might want to place your glass bead on the map instead.

 

The Charcoal Fire

 

The Charcoal Fire:

a space to explore friendships and fear, why good friends are important, how it feels when our friends let us down, and what we do when we let our friends down …

and to learn about Peter who denied knowing his friend Jesus.

 

Luke 22.54-62

Then they seized him and led him away, bringing him into the high priest’s house. But Peter was following at a distance. When they had kindled a fire in the middle of the courtyard and sat down together, Peter sat among them. Then a servant-girl, seeing him in the firelight, stared at him and said, ‘This man also was with him.’ But he denied it, saying, ‘Woman, I do not know him.’ A little later someone else, on seeing him, said, ‘You also are one of them.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I am not!’ Then about an hour later yet another kept insisting, ‘Surely this man also was with him; for he is a Galilean.’ But Peter said, ‘Man, I do not know what you are talking about!’ At that moment, while he was still speaking, the cock crowed. The Lord turned and looked at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows today, you will deny me three times.’ And he went out and wept bitterly.

 

What is your worst nightmare?

If you could change one thing about your life, what would it be?

What do you do when you are feeling down?

 

Questions taken from https://table-talk.org/friends/

 

This is a space for quiet reflection, perhaps on things that have gone wrong in your life.

You may like to stand at the fire to do this or simply sit around the edge of the space.

You don’t need to speak to anyone here. But there might be someone you need to go and talk with later.

 

The Last Supper

 

The Last Supper:

a space to explore storytelling and memory-making, food and family ties, what we would like to be remembered for …

and to learn about why we eat bread and drink wine to remember Jesus.

 

Luke 22.7-23

Then came the day of Unleavened Bread, on which the Passover lamb had to be sacrificed. So Jesus sent Peter and John, saying, ‘Go and prepare the Passover meal for us that we may eat it.’ They asked him, ‘Where do you want us to make preparations for it?’ ‘Listen,’ he said to them, ‘when you have entered the city, a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him into the house he enters and say to the owner of the house, “The teacher asks you, ‘Where is the guest room, where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’” He will show you a large room upstairs, already furnished. Make preparations for us there.’ So they went and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.

When the hour came, he took his place at the table, and the apostles with him. He said to them, ‘I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer; for I tell you, I will not eat it until it is fulfilled in the kingdom of God.’ Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he said, ‘Take this and divide it among yourselves; for I tell you that from now on I will not drink of the fruit of the vine until the kingdom of God comes.’ Then he took a loaf of bread, and when he had given thanks, he broke it and gave it to them, saying, ‘This is my body, which is given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.’ And he did the same with the cup after supper, saying, ‘This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant in my blood. But see, the one who betrays me is with me, and his hand is on the table. For the Son of Man is going as it has been determined, but woe to that one by whom he is betrayed!’ Then they began to ask one another which one of them it could be who would do this.

 

What would be your ‘last supper’?

What do you want to be remembered for?

Who is the most important person in your life?

 

Questions taken from https://table-talk.org/friends/

 

This is a space for conversations. If there are others at the table with you, tell stories about family celebrations, of who and what matters most to you.

You might like to try one of the wafers in the chalice. This is not an act of Christian worship (they have not been consecrated for that purpose) so anyone can do this if you wish to; but please note that the wafers contain gluten.

 

The Great Procession

 

a space to explore belonging, hopes and dreams, where we invest our hope …

and to learn about Jesus entering Jerusalem along with crowds of pilgrims.

 

Luke 19.29-40

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany, at the place called the Mount of Olives, he sent two of the disciples, saying, ‘Go into the village ahead of you, and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt that has never been ridden. Untie it and bring it here. If anyone asks you, “Why are you untying it?” just say this: “The Lord needs it.”’ So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them. As they were untying the colt, its owners asked them, ‘Why are you untying the colt?’ They said, ‘The Lord needs it.’ Then they brought it to Jesus; and after throwing their cloaks on the colt, they set Jesus on it. As he rode along, people kept spreading their cloaks on the road. As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they had seen, saying,

‘Blessed is the king
    who comes in the name of the Lord!
Peace in heaven,
    and glory in the highest heaven!’

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him, ‘Teacher, order your disciples to stop.’ He answered, ‘I tell you, if these were silent, the stones would shout out.’

 

What has been the best day of your life?

What makes you happy?

Have you ever been to a sacred place?

 

Questions taken from https://table-talk.org/friends/

 

You might like to take a folded square of cloth from the table and wave it like a makeshift flag of banner to express something you are thankful for or looking forward to.

If there are others with you, you might like to tell them about these things, or even join in a parade of praise.