|
We left Jesus on Good Friday safely locked away in his tomb. Wrapped in grave clothes, to hide the horrors of his torture and death. Secure in a solid rock grave with a large stone rolled across the entrance. And now, as soon as the Passover and Sabbath are finished, along come the women to anoint his body so that not even the smell of death will emerge to cause further anguish and pain. Safe and sound, in the tomb, he’s no longer a threat to the politicking of the Sadducees; the piety of the Pharisees; the pre-eminence of Rome; the preoccupation of the crowd.
And now comes the first hint that something astonishing is taking place – he’s not there. The stone is no longer blocking the entrance to his grave, the clothes with which his body had been covered lie empty, the spices and oils that the women have brought are suddenly useless. The first Good News of Easter is not a presence but an absence. Death itself has lots its grip on Jesus. He has burst out of the tomb.
Grasping the implications of this is a work you and I will be engaged on for our whole lives – without ever fully understanding its meaning. The tiny part I want to share with you tonight is simply to think about how you and I are as guilty as the first century citizens of Jerusalem when it comes to trying to lock Jesus away in a safe tomb. And that maybe if we recognise he’s not where we think we’ve put him then he will be able to set us free from the things that entomb us; thoughts I’ve collected under three headings; custom creed and culture.
Custom
Custom is a word that covers all the practices of our lives and of our religion with which we make ourselves comfortable. Customs are not wrong things; it’s good to have patterns of worship that allow us an idea of what to expect when we come to church. Jesus himself established customs, “Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me”, he says, as he institutes the Eucharist. And you and I still faithfully recite the words of the prayer he taught his disciples to say. The problem is when we think Jesus is safely contained in our customs. There’s a trick that bishops use when visiting a parish and wanting to allude to causes of conflict in congregations – it’s to mention, lightly, in passing, hymn books and pews. Usually afterwards someone will come up and say, “How did you know we were arguing about that?” Occasionally I‘ve had advance warning, but it’s a fact of life that most churches have some sort of dispute over the music or the seating arrangements, and if it’s not that one this year, it’s probably the other.
I don’t want to belittle any of that. The distress caused can be real and deep. Particularly when other aspects of my life may be full of disconcerting change (home; job; family; health) I want the church to be exactly as I am used to it. But it’s a tomb. And Jesus isn’t in it. He has no preference between Hymns Ancient and Modern and the latest Christian songbook; nor between benches and chairs. The one who is in the tomb is me. And Jesus can bring me out of it. Not least because when I grasp hold of the things of God that are truly changeless; God’s forgiveness; God’s love for me; God’s ultimate victory, then I can let go of the temporary things I pretend need to stay fixed. The tomb of custom can be breached.
Culture
The second tomb we try to bury Jesus in is called culture. Every generation and every part of the world where Christians have lived in numbers has had a go at building this tomb for him. We want, rightly, the Gospel to be relevant; we want it to speak to the people around us, to those who are not, or not yet, our members. And we want it to be something that we can live out without creating too many painful clashes with the secular world of which we have to be part. We may not, as Jesus reminds us, be “of” the world, but we are “in” it. Recently, the Anglican Communion published the responses of the 38 provinces to how they were getting on in the “listening process” over homosexuality. All scriptural arguments aside, some could only reply “it’s not possible to talk about such things in our culture”. By which I guess they mean that any attempt to start up a conversation would have such a negative impact as to outweigh any good that might come of it. I don’t doubt that there are places where that is true.
But there’s a pretty slippery slope if we start allowing the outside culture to determine what boundaries there are to Christians exploring their faith.
We all do it. In the media story about the bi-centenary of the Act to abolish the slave trade one of the Archbishops said that he wondered what, in another 200 years time Christians would look back on from 2007 and be shocked at what we had tolerated. It’s much easier to see where culture has shaped the expression of the Christian faith in another country or another era than it is to spot it in the here and now. But it is a tomb. It is restricting Jesus. Or, as I said before, it’s actually you and me who have shut ourselves up in the tomb. Jesus has burst out of the tomb of human culture that we have fashioned for him. And one final word of warning at this point, culture is just as much a tomb when we assume that because we’re resisting it that means we’re being faithful to Jesus. I’ve certainly met more than enough Christians who covet unpopularity and deliberately take contrary views in society and then make a logical jump to equate resisting the “spirit of the age” to being faithful to Jesus. They are as much trapped in the tomb of culture as their opposites who go along with each and every social trend.
Creed
I’ve called the final tomb we build for Jesus “Creed”. That’s partly because I wanted three words all beginning with the same letter, in the hope that it might help to remember them. I don’t mean I’m against the creed – I say both Nicene and Apostles creeds frequently and with enthusiasm. What I’m trying to get at is the way in which, as Christians we bury Jesus under a great weight of doctrinal formulae and behavioural regulations – far beyond any of the great creedal statement of the faith.
Clearly there have to be some boundaries as to what is authentic Christian belief and behaviour. And within that any denomination or church structure is going to need some tighter requirements, especially in the realm of church order. You can’t have a club without rules. But we are tempted to go much further. Some years ago I was unable to join an organisation called “Christians in Housing”, although I felt I satisfied every thing within the title. The problem was that I couldn’t assent to a particular statement about how Jesus’ death atones for my sins. A statement not produced by any great ecumenical council of the church and certainly not one either required by the Church of England or assented to by most clergy or lay people.
The boundaries set by the creeds are deliberately set generously. The Declaration of Assent required of all Church of England ministers sets out what, within that, are the minimal hallmarks of an Anglican. Again they are cast as widely as possible. Anything narrower is an attempt to build a tomb for Jesus; to lock him up where he can’t get away; to put into his mouth words that he never spoke and positions that he never espoused. And just as with customs and culture, he won’t stay within the tomb we’ve built. He’s on the outside; it’s you and me who are trapped on the inside.
Conclusion
There’s a lovely phrase of speech, “thinking outside the box”. The first Good News of Easter is that whatever we call that box; culture, custom or creed, Jesus is outside it. And if we’re going to be with Jesus we have to get outside too. It’s not as safe. It can be a scary and bumpy ride. But as Peter says, “You have the words of life. Where else can I go?”
Bishop David
Click to return to the list of further sermons.
Go to top
|
