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For the last week we've been following Jesus on his journey through Holy Week. We've stopped off at the various locations he visited and reflected both on what they meant then and what they mean for you and me in Malvern in 2007.
With the resurrection there comes a sudden change. What's most interesting about the Easter Jesus is not only where he is but where he isn't. Last night, those of us who gathered for the Eater Vigil reflected on the empty tomb. The Good News of Easter begins not with a presence of Jesus but with an absence. The one thing a dead body ought to do is to stay where it's put. But the body of Jesus is no longer safely wrapped in its grave clothes and shut inside the tomb.
This morning I want to look at another place where Jesus isn't. Again it's a surprising absence. If a dead man is brought back to life you'd expect to find him mostly surrounded by his friends and family, picking up the threads from his previous existence. I'm sure that's what happened with Lazarus and with those others to whom Jesus restored life. The oddity about the accounts of Jesus meeting with his disciples after Easter is that, powerful though they are, they represent only a few fairly short encounters: in a room on a road, by a lakeside, in a garden, on a mountain. I think I know what a busy diary looks like - and that isn't it. It's St. Matthew who gives us a clue as to what is going on; in Chapter 28, verse 7 the angel says to the women to tell the disciples that Jesus is "going ahead of you into Galilee".
The risen Jesus is not just with his disciples, he's going on ahead of them.
There's another hint in St. John's Gospel, in some words in which Jesus is speaking about his passion, "When I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw all people to myself." Christ is ahead, drawing us on. This imagery of Jesus ahead, drawing his followers to him is further bolstered for me by the constant Gospel allusions to shepherding. The shepherds of the biblical era walked ahead of the flock, calling them forward. The sheep recognised the true shepherd's voice, and followed. As long as he keeps ahead of the flock the shepherd can protect them from attack, guide them away from dangerous terrain and lead them to where there is good, rich pasture. He couldn't do that from the middle of the flock, he certainly couldn't do it from somewhere behind them.
There has been a huge emphasis in Church of England worship over most of the last century on the truth that God is here with us. The 1662 BCP (and its 1928 revision) didn't begin the Eucharistic Prayer with "The Lord is here", or "the Lord be with you". It plunges straight into "Lift up your hearts". Moreover for much of the last 2000 years the Eucharist has been celebrated with the priest facing east, towards the God who is located beyond the east window. It's only in recent times that altars have been pulled out from the back wall and the priest moved to face the congregation, so that the new emphasis is on the God who is to be found, when two or three are gathered together, in our midst.
There's nothing wrong with either the new position or the new words. It's been a great gain to recover a sense of the Lord being among us not out there, far away, somewhere. But if we don't temper it with things that express the Christ who is ahead, calling us forward, we end up with a partial faith. If the totality of our faith is that Christ is with us then we become cosy and inward looking, comfortable, perhaps even complacent. Perhaps once a month we ought to worship in a style that emphasises Jesus ahead, beyond us. Or maybe that's one of the strengths of our choral tradition. When I worship in a service where the choir are singing pieces far too complicated and beautifully for me to join in, then that can be a very powerful call for me to focus beyond myself and my gathered community.
Jesus goes ahead of us, as he went ahead of those first disciples, as the biblical shepherd walked on ahead of his flock, staying within shouting distance, calling them forward. It feels scary following him because from our position we can't see where we're going, we feel vulnerable to attack and we don't know how risky and difficult the path might become round the next bend.
There are things to be scared of out there on the path ahead. Christians are subject to attack - the young people were reminding me on Monday of what they have to suffer in terms of abuse and ill-treatment for their faith at school. There are no easy answers, and I was one of these who dropped out of church between the ages of 13 and 18. But the Easter Good News assures us that Jesus is ahead along the path. He will be already engaging with the forces that attack us even before we're aware of them. He can't guarantee that we will never be wounded, but he can assure us that we'll never be destroyed.
The journey will also take us across difficult ground. The Christian life is a demanding one; Jesus calls us to heal the sick, sustain the poor, include the outsider and its hard work even when it's greatly rewarding. I've had the privilege of seeing some of this discipleship in action in the places and people I've visited this week. There are some splendid things being done to the glory of God by the people of the Priory, the voice of him who calls is being heard and responded to. But it's hard.
But the Good Shepherd is drawing us onwards to rich pasture, to where the flock can play and feed and rest. The Christian life is not just a vale of tears punctured by the hope of heaven. My life became immeasurably richer when I returned to faith, and that is the experience of Christian men and women down the ages.
There's a story I heard on retreat some years ago, of a man who compares his life to a bicycle trip. First of all he was on his own, peddling and steering. Then he found faith and that was like riding a tandem, with Jesus behind him, taking the strain of the hills. And then one day Jesus taps him on the shoulder and asks to change places. With Jesus ahead, steering, it's a totally different much less predictable journey, but ultimately a far more satisfying one. And that says, succinctly, most of what I've been trying to say this morning. Maybe we should change the greeting from "The Lord be with you" to "The Lord be ahead of you".
Bishop David
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