Easter Day
21st April 2014
John 20:1-18 click to read
Acts 10:34-43 click to read
It won’t have escaped your attention that many newer, younger preachers incorporate party games in Sunday morning worship. They’ll get everyone to play Chinese Whispers, for example; or – today –to hunt for Easter eggs. But those of you who’ve known me some years, know that’s not my way. For two reasons. Experience: I’ve discovered that, after the service is over, everyone remembers the game but not the lesson. Which defeats the object somewhat. And fitness for purpose: Kids who’ve been dragged along to a Parade Service may need an icebreaker, but mature adults – mature in faith as much as years – have come willingly. They know what they’re here for; and want to get on with it.
But suppose, for a minute, I did decide to introduce a game to complement today’s Gospel reading? I think I’d choose Leapfrog. The rules of Leapfrog are simple. Players form a column. All but one get down on their hands and knees (you’re already relieved I’m not asking you to do this, aren’t you?), their heads touching the floor. The one exception stands at the rear. She places her hands on the back of the person ahead of her and with a scissor movement of her legs, like a frog, leaps over him and lands in front of him. She then does the same with the next person, and so on, till she’s at the head of the column. She now kneels, while the person at the very back, stands and begins to ‘leapfrog’, and so on ad infinitum; or at least until you reach a wall or a fence. Then everyone turns and proceeds in reverse, resulting of course in one player scoring two points in a row!
Intriguingly, John’s Gospel portrays the events of Easter morning like a game of Leapfrog. The first person to see that the stone’s disappeared from the tomb, is Mary. From being one of the newer disciples, healed of her seven demons while the other apostles looked on, thus somewhat on the fringe of the disciple band, she’s leapfrogged into pole position. But not for long. Because John runs to the tomb itself, and looks inside. Now John’s winning. But then he hesitates at the entrance to the tomb, enabling Peter to catch up and go straight in, leapfrogging both of them. Now, continuing the analogy, it’s as though the players hit the ‘wall’. Because they reverse order and Peter scores a second point by being the first person to observe everything in the tomb. The arrangement of the linen cloths, especially the head cloth, effectively precludes the possibility of this being the work of grave robbers. But he doesn’t get that. So John enters now, sees everything Peter saw, and becomes the first to recognise its significance and to believe, hence leapfrogging Peter. Finally Mary, who’s remained outside the tomb throughout, becomes the first to meet Jesus himself, hence leapfrogging John! The three disciples, if you’re still counting, have scored two points each. Each has an equal claim to the title, “Apostle of the Resurrection.”
Now, lest we conclude this is all mere chance, John 20 continues in the same vein. Of the eleven surviving apostles, Thomas is at one point in eleventh place – the only one not to believe the risen Lord’s been seen – but moments later, he’s leapfrogged into pole position, becoming the first Christian ever to fall on his knees, worship Jesus, and call him “God.” We believe the writer of this Gospel hails from the Ephesian church many years after the events he’s describing. Is he saying, this is what church life is like? It’s not a hierarchy, where someone’s promoted from second place to first; nor a league table, where someone has a bad weekend and slips from first place to third! No, the last becomes first instantaneously. The newest convert; or the youngest child at Messy Church; has an amazing insight that makes everyone gasp – always assuming that everyone’s humble enough to listen to that convert or that child in the first place!
So in the Christian church, the Easter people, the community of the Resurrection – unlike other religions, philosophies, or political parties – there are no gurus. There’s no-one of whom you can say, “Whatever I want to understand – the doctrine of the Trinity, the mystery of the Incarnation, or the Christian attitude to poverty, the environment, or sexuality – whatever I want to understand I go to the same one wise man.” No, that’s not how it works. And for three years before his crucifixion Jesus has been preparing his disciples to belong to a church in which even they have no pedestal. Jesus has told the story of the Prodigal Son, warning them against becoming like the older brother who complained, “I’ve worked this farm for years. How come this new arrival now gets special favours?” He’s also told the story of the workers in the vineyard who complained, “We’ve been working since dawn. How come these guys turn up at 4:00 PM and get the same rewards?” The fact is, the slogan from today’s second lesson, “God has no favourites – not even us,” epitomises the Christian church.
So the Resurrection story isn’t just about Jesus, or about disciples two thousand years ago; it’s about the community that arose out of Christ’s tomb. I began by perhaps implying we should weigh up therelative merits of Mary, John and Peter – almost as though we’re trying to decide corporately whom we should name our church after; or decide individually whose statuette to place on our mantelpieces; ordecide whom I should nominate as my patron saint, petitioning him or her to pray for my soul upon the hour of my death. But what if it’s the opposite – and I should be asking which disciple I most resemble in their weaknesses and frailty?
Am I at all like Mary? Mary who needed to have seven demons driven out of her. Mary who saw something significant from a distance but was afraid to draw closer. Mary who was so emotional that through her tears she saw angels where John and Peter hadn’t seen any. Mary who was so stubbornly clinging to one way of thinking, “a tomb can only be empty if it’s been robbed,” that neither Peter, John, angels nor a vision of Jesus himself could snap her out of it till she was specifically instructed, “Do not hold on.” Am I at all like her?
Am I at all like John? John who wasn’t content to be one of twelve chosen apostles but asked, could hehave a special seat in the coming Kingdom. John who, finding himself on a pilgrimage to the tomb alongside Peter, felt it necessary to run on ahead, turn it into a race. John who reached the tomb entrance but then lost his nerve. John who realised Christ was risen, but didn’t tell a soul and simplyreturned home. Am I at all like him?
Or am I at all like Peter? Peter who once swore to Jesus – cross his heart, hope to die – that he’d never deny him; then when the going got tough and he was accused of being a friend of this Galilean, retorted, “Jesus who?” Peter who was privileged to witness incontrovertible evidence of the Resurrection, but failed to understand. Peter who in Cornelius’s house, in Acts 10, snootily proclaimed, “A Jew is not allowed to ... visit ... Gentiles.” Am I at all like him?
Maybe we’re meant to look at apostles and see our own story. None of them was changed once-for-all,from darkness to light, from ‘unsaved’ to ‘saved’. Rather, each was transformed over and over. Mary:when Jesus expelled demons from her, and again when she visited his grave, and again when he spokeher name. John: when Jesus called him from fishing, and again when he reached the empty tomb, and again when he worked out for himself that Christ was risen. Peter: when he saw the linen cloths, and again when a forgiving Jesus didn’t mention his denials but simply instructed “Feed my sheep”, and again when he heard Cornelius describe how God had answered a Gentile’s prayer.
Charles Wesley’s Easter hymn, no doubt written – like all his hymns – to follow one of brother John’s sermons, makes it clear that the Resurrection’s our story. “Like him we rise. Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Thy power to prove.” And we demonstrate Christ’s risen power in us by showing a willingness to keep hearts and minds open and learn the things of God from the most surprising, unpredictable, varied sources; by being transformed not just once but over and over, from glory to glory. Amen.
Graham Pearcey
Acts 10:34-43 click to read
It won’t have escaped your attention that many newer, younger preachers incorporate party games in Sunday morning worship. They’ll get everyone to play Chinese Whispers, for example; or – today –to hunt for Easter eggs. But those of you who’ve known me some years, know that’s not my way. For two reasons. Experience: I’ve discovered that, after the service is over, everyone remembers the game but not the lesson. Which defeats the object somewhat. And fitness for purpose: Kids who’ve been dragged along to a Parade Service may need an icebreaker, but mature adults – mature in faith as much as years – have come willingly. They know what they’re here for; and want to get on with it.
But suppose, for a minute, I did decide to introduce a game to complement today’s Gospel reading? I think I’d choose Leapfrog. The rules of Leapfrog are simple. Players form a column. All but one get down on their hands and knees (you’re already relieved I’m not asking you to do this, aren’t you?), their heads touching the floor. The one exception stands at the rear. She places her hands on the back of the person ahead of her and with a scissor movement of her legs, like a frog, leaps over him and lands in front of him. She then does the same with the next person, and so on, till she’s at the head of the column. She now kneels, while the person at the very back, stands and begins to ‘leapfrog’, and so on ad infinitum; or at least until you reach a wall or a fence. Then everyone turns and proceeds in reverse, resulting of course in one player scoring two points in a row!
Intriguingly, John’s Gospel portrays the events of Easter morning like a game of Leapfrog. The first person to see that the stone’s disappeared from the tomb, is Mary. From being one of the newer disciples, healed of her seven demons while the other apostles looked on, thus somewhat on the fringe of the disciple band, she’s leapfrogged into pole position. But not for long. Because John runs to the tomb itself, and looks inside. Now John’s winning. But then he hesitates at the entrance to the tomb, enabling Peter to catch up and go straight in, leapfrogging both of them. Now, continuing the analogy, it’s as though the players hit the ‘wall’. Because they reverse order and Peter scores a second point by being the first person to observe everything in the tomb. The arrangement of the linen cloths, especially the head cloth, effectively precludes the possibility of this being the work of grave robbers. But he doesn’t get that. So John enters now, sees everything Peter saw, and becomes the first to recognise its significance and to believe, hence leapfrogging Peter. Finally Mary, who’s remained outside the tomb throughout, becomes the first to meet Jesus himself, hence leapfrogging John! The three disciples, if you’re still counting, have scored two points each. Each has an equal claim to the title, “Apostle of the Resurrection.”
Now, lest we conclude this is all mere chance, John 20 continues in the same vein. Of the eleven surviving apostles, Thomas is at one point in eleventh place – the only one not to believe the risen Lord’s been seen – but moments later, he’s leapfrogged into pole position, becoming the first Christian ever to fall on his knees, worship Jesus, and call him “God.” We believe the writer of this Gospel hails from the Ephesian church many years after the events he’s describing. Is he saying, this is what church life is like? It’s not a hierarchy, where someone’s promoted from second place to first; nor a league table, where someone has a bad weekend and slips from first place to third! No, the last becomes first instantaneously. The newest convert; or the youngest child at Messy Church; has an amazing insight that makes everyone gasp – always assuming that everyone’s humble enough to listen to that convert or that child in the first place!
So in the Christian church, the Easter people, the community of the Resurrection – unlike other religions, philosophies, or political parties – there are no gurus. There’s no-one of whom you can say, “Whatever I want to understand – the doctrine of the Trinity, the mystery of the Incarnation, or the Christian attitude to poverty, the environment, or sexuality – whatever I want to understand I go to the same one wise man.” No, that’s not how it works. And for three years before his crucifixion Jesus has been preparing his disciples to belong to a church in which even they have no pedestal. Jesus has told the story of the Prodigal Son, warning them against becoming like the older brother who complained, “I’ve worked this farm for years. How come this new arrival now gets special favours?” He’s also told the story of the workers in the vineyard who complained, “We’ve been working since dawn. How come these guys turn up at 4:00 PM and get the same rewards?” The fact is, the slogan from today’s second lesson, “God has no favourites – not even us,” epitomises the Christian church.
So the Resurrection story isn’t just about Jesus, or about disciples two thousand years ago; it’s about the community that arose out of Christ’s tomb. I began by perhaps implying we should weigh up therelative merits of Mary, John and Peter – almost as though we’re trying to decide corporately whom we should name our church after; or decide individually whose statuette to place on our mantelpieces; ordecide whom I should nominate as my patron saint, petitioning him or her to pray for my soul upon the hour of my death. But what if it’s the opposite – and I should be asking which disciple I most resemble in their weaknesses and frailty?
Am I at all like Mary? Mary who needed to have seven demons driven out of her. Mary who saw something significant from a distance but was afraid to draw closer. Mary who was so emotional that through her tears she saw angels where John and Peter hadn’t seen any. Mary who was so stubbornly clinging to one way of thinking, “a tomb can only be empty if it’s been robbed,” that neither Peter, John, angels nor a vision of Jesus himself could snap her out of it till she was specifically instructed, “Do not hold on.” Am I at all like her?
Am I at all like John? John who wasn’t content to be one of twelve chosen apostles but asked, could hehave a special seat in the coming Kingdom. John who, finding himself on a pilgrimage to the tomb alongside Peter, felt it necessary to run on ahead, turn it into a race. John who reached the tomb entrance but then lost his nerve. John who realised Christ was risen, but didn’t tell a soul and simplyreturned home. Am I at all like him?
Or am I at all like Peter? Peter who once swore to Jesus – cross his heart, hope to die – that he’d never deny him; then when the going got tough and he was accused of being a friend of this Galilean, retorted, “Jesus who?” Peter who was privileged to witness incontrovertible evidence of the Resurrection, but failed to understand. Peter who in Cornelius’s house, in Acts 10, snootily proclaimed, “A Jew is not allowed to ... visit ... Gentiles.” Am I at all like him?
Maybe we’re meant to look at apostles and see our own story. None of them was changed once-for-all,from darkness to light, from ‘unsaved’ to ‘saved’. Rather, each was transformed over and over. Mary:when Jesus expelled demons from her, and again when she visited his grave, and again when he spokeher name. John: when Jesus called him from fishing, and again when he reached the empty tomb, and again when he worked out for himself that Christ was risen. Peter: when he saw the linen cloths, and again when a forgiving Jesus didn’t mention his denials but simply instructed “Feed my sheep”, and again when he heard Cornelius describe how God had answered a Gentile’s prayer.
Charles Wesley’s Easter hymn, no doubt written – like all his hymns – to follow one of brother John’s sermons, makes it clear that the Resurrection’s our story. “Like him we rise. Ours the cross, the grave, the skies. Thy power to prove.” And we demonstrate Christ’s risen power in us by showing a willingness to keep hearts and minds open and learn the things of God from the most surprising, unpredictable, varied sources; by being transformed not just once but over and over, from glory to glory. Amen.
Graham Pearcey
