Risen, Ascended, Glorified

Easter 7, Year B, 2012

Text: Acts 1: 1-11; Ephesians 1: 15-23; Luke 24: 44-53.

Let us bow our heads in prayer –

O God, you withdraw from our sight that you may be known by our love: help us to enter the cloud where you are hidden, and surrender all our certainty to the darkness of faith in Jesus Christ. Amen.
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I always like the thought that each Sunday many other Churches throughout the country, and the world, are all following the same readings and the same theme for the day as we are. The various preachers, I am sure, take quite a different approach to the readings, and no doubt we all choose different hymns and pray different prayers, but we are all focussing on the same words from the Scripture, and sharing the same aspect of our shared faith.

Having said that, I am going to do a particularly Anglican thing, and instead of choosing the readings for today, I have focussed on the readings for the nearest major festival of the Church’s calendar. Which, as we all know, was the festival of the Ascension on Thursday. Had you realised it was forty days since Easter? Doesn’t time fly!

As I am sure you are aware, Luke’s Acts of the Apostles is the only New Testament Book that specifically mentions a physical ascension forty days after Easter. The longer version of the ending of Mark’s Gospel records that Jesus “was taken up into heaven and sat at the right hand of God”, at some unspecified time soon after Easter; Luke’s Gospel seems to time His being “carried up into heaven” as taking place on Easter day; Matthew only says that they met Jesus on a mountain back in Galilee, several days’ travelling from Jerusalem, where “they worshipped Him”, and in John there are only the references of Jesus to going to His Father.

What exactly happened, and when it happened is not the least bit clear. Each Gospel writer has a different account. However, the combined message of the four Gospels is clear: that after his tragic, cruel and unjustified death on the Cross, His disciples at some time, and in some way, had an overwhelming experience - of Christ risen, ascended, glorified.

And each of them, in their own styles, in their own theology, wrote to express their understanding of Christ risen, ascended, glorified, which is the theme of Ascension day in the New Zealand Anglican Prayer Book.

The three concepts involved in this theme for today don’t sit comfortably in the minds of most 21st century westerners. We don’t think of heaven as “up”. In an age when we have all flown high above the clouds and have watched televised journeys into space, and heard and seen weather reports talking about the movement of currents and cloud formations over the Tasman - for us the mystery has been taken out of the clouds and the space above the clouds. So for us, the idea of Christ ascending upwards is not always helpful because for us up and ‘the heavens” are quite a different thing than they were for the writers and first readers of the Gospels.

In the same way, “glory” is not a concept that we are either familiar with or comfortable with. It has tended in our time to be debased by experiences of politicians and other leaders, and indeed nations, making attempts at self-glorification. Ours is an age of people employing public relations firms to build them us, while ordinary people specialise in putting these same leaders down.

We bring our leaders down to size - our size. On many occasions that is not a bad thing. But I suspect that this general atmosphere of cynicism and denigration has killed off our ability to experience anything with a sense of wonder and simple, uncomplicated adoration. Sadly, we can’t even admire a beautiful natural scene without being aware of the damage to the land and the air that is evident somewhere in that scene.

Therefore, an awareness of God’s glory doesn’t come easily. We are, quite simply, out of practice at experiencing glory. We are not geared to respond to anything in that uncomplicated way.

We may know more about the nature of the atom, and the origins of this world and the universe than any people before us, but when it comes to a relationship with God, a faith in our Creator, I suspect that we are ignorant illiterates compared to, e.g., the writers of the story of Adam and Eve in the garden or the prophets Isaiah, Hosea or Ezekiel.

They had a directness and a simplicity in their experience of God and God’s glory that we have lost.

And so it is that when we try to re-express the divine experiences of those early followers of Jesus who were around to witness His death and the extraordinary experiences following his death, we end up using language that is not part of our accepted modern vocabulary.

I’m not suggesting that we turn back the clock. We are not the same sort of people as those who lived in the time of Jesus, because we have experienced life differently from them. We know things that they did not know. Many of those new bits of knowledge that we have about the world and about ourselves are good knowledge. And many of our new experiences are good experiences. But they do make us different people.

Now, maybe for you, understanding Christ as “risen, ascended, glorified” holds no problems. But that will be because you have already retranslated it into thoughts, feelings and experiences that are within your own experience; or maybe it is because you have assimilated it in total, undigested, and allowed it to become part of you despite its foreign-ness. That, I believe, is a less satisfactory way of coping.

But, if you have heard the words, and they haven’t touched you at your heart, and moved you forward in your faith, then, like me, you have some work to do! Translation work, that is.

For me, God’s glory is God’s “Godness”. My experience of that is at times a sense of wonder when I discover, for example, something of the amazing intricacies of a life form, or the immenseness and complexity of the universe, or the living inter-relatedness of the life systems of this planet. Not to mention meeting my own son at his birth! My awareness of God’s glory often touches me when I experience in one way or another God’s love of me and all creatures - that can fill me with a sense of safety and security that nothing else will give me.

For me, Biblical images of clouds of glory and blazing lights are not all that helpful. I have to translate such imagery into my kind of language. But that’s OK. It’s just hard work, that’s all.

And likewise with the imagery of “up there”. Jesus “ascending” doesn’t help me as a mind picture. Jesus reflecting God’s love and goodness so closely that he is a “spitting image” of God does mean something to me. Thinking of the legacy of empowerment that He left His friends, and which has in turn been passed on to us - that sort of thought helps me to comprehend Jesus’ specialness and relevance in my life in a much more real way

If you have trouble with the imagery, I don’t suggest that you copy mine. That is a very personal thing related to my own life experiences. Rather, work on your own. Ask yourself: How do I express the Godness of God and the Godness of Jesus? And I’d love to hear your answers. Amen.

Friendship with God

Easter 6, Year B, 2012

Text: Acts 10: 44-48; 1 John 5: 1-6; John 15: 9-17.

Let us bow our heads in prayer –
God of Wisdom. Let our eyes, ears and hearts be open to your truth, that we and others may be set free to receive Your love. Amen.
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Reading our Gospel passage today, the first impression you may get is the word “commandments”. That Jesus – and thus God – will only love us on the condition that we obey the commandments. That if we are bad boys and girls, and break the commandments, God will punish us by withdrawing love from us, like a controlling parent.

But if we think back through the whole Gospel story, and even if we read this short passage again, we realise that Jesus was interested in only one commandment – the commandment of love. Remember what He said elsewhere:

‘The scribe asked Jesus, “Which commandment is the first of all?”

Jesus answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind, and with all your strength. The second is this; you shall love your neighbor as yourself. There is no other commandment greater than these.” (Mark 12: 28)

So, when Jesus talks about obeying commandments, he’s not talking about following a lot of irksome rules and regulations, to earn the grudging approval of the great Schoolteacher in the Sky. No, He’s calling us to live out lives of love, and through doing this we discover God in all we do.

Because, if you read this short passage carefully, the key words are not ‘obey’ and ‘commandment’, but ‘friend’ and ‘joy’.

Let’s look at what it might entail being a friend of Jesus.

Jesus says: “You are my friends if you do what I command you.” This does not mean that we can only be His friend as a reward for doing as he does tell us to. Rather, it’s a fact of life. Jesus’ one and only ‘command’ is to love God completely, and to love those we come into contact with – to live a life of friendship. Jesus is saying that we discover the joys of friendship with God by living a life of love.

Let’s look at the nature of friendship. Mary, a troubled youngster, was having difficulty settling into her new school. The school counselor called her into the office for a chat. “Mary”, she said, “I want to be your friend. I will never tell your parents or your teachers anything we talk about, if you don’t want me to. I want you to know that you can trust me, and I’ll always be there if you need me.”

With tearful eyes, Mary looked up at the counselor: “Gee, Miss Edwards,” she said with emotion in her voice, “you’re just like my dog.” You don’t have to be terribly clever or articulate to be a good friend.

Jo said to me recently: “I watch you sometimes when you get back home after being out somewhere that’s been a bit tiring. When Oscar (that’s our dog) sees you he rushes out to greet you and jumps up at you and dances around you deleted “and” trying to coat you in saliva. But it makes you perk up and come back to life.”

If that’s what a dog can do to you, with its rather mindless devotion, imagine the power of human friendship to bring new life, new vitality and new hope to people who need it.

Human friendship can literally save lives. The group the Samaritans followed up a number of desperate people who rang their services who were on the point of suicide. One group only made one contact with the Samaritans. They were the group who were most likely to commit suicide at a later date. Another group was befriended by one of the Samaritan volunteers i.e. one of the volunteers would keep in touch with the person over a number of months, visiting them, phoning them, and just acting as a friend through their crisis. That was the group that was least likely to commit suicide.

There was a third group. A Samaritan volunteer wasn’t able to visit or keep in personal contact with members of this group, because of where they lived, or some other reason. However, someone from the Samaritans sent these people a letter every month or so. Even members of this group were less likely to commit suicide later. So even the slight friendship of a stranger writing the occasional letter has life-giving power. What then does the steady increase in youth suicide tell us about modern life?

If this is the life-giving power of canine and human friendship, what is the power of divine friendship?

I don’t think there is any other religion in the world that talks about divine friendship. Others worship, respect, stand in awe of, fear, beseech, adore, even love their God. But not to the level of friendship. I’m not saying this to put down other religions, as some of you will be aware I have a great respect for other world religions, I’m just pointing out a major difference.

Friendship suggests a mutual respect, even a mutual need. Friendship suggests that either party can be both supported by or hurt by the other.

This is unique to Christianity, the faith of the baby in the manger and the Christ on the Cross. Ours is a faith based on a vulnerable God, who risks all to not only love us, but to show us that love.

As I thought about this, it occurred to me that there is a positive side to the traditional emphasis on the image of God as a loving father. Often, understandably, people have reacted against the image of God as father, especially those who have never had a positive experience of a father.

Because, sadly, in our society there are many men who have been failures as parents.

An Australian psychologist was promoting a book ‘Manhood’ some years ago which I read. He wrote about the unsatisfactory relationship between most Australian men and their fathers, and of course we know the same is true here. Most men, in the past at least, have not known how to express their love for their children. Some have not even known how to feel love for their children.

And perhaps the same could be said of the God or gods of other religions. Like Kiwi fathers, they either have not known how to love their children, or have not been very good at expressing that love. Of course our impression of God is really a true reflection of how we ourselves feel inside.

But with the faith based on Jesus, the Christ born in a stable and dying on a cross, for the first time we experience God not as a strong but inadequate, inarticulate and remote heavenly father, but as a loving, close father.

To those fathers in the congregation who have perhaps not had the best relationship with their children remember it’s still not too late.

To talk of God as motherly, as a mother hen protecting her chicks under her wings, for example, is a wonderful metaphor of loving tenderness, and a very appropriate one to reflect on on Mother’s Day. But to talk of God as a loving father tells us not only about tenderness, but also about the unique ability or our God to show us that love, that friendship that only some, very special, fathers have learnt.

To confirm your suspicions of my unbalanced attitudes to dogs, I will end with a story about a member of the Auckland Warriors. As you may remember the Warriors were having a terrible season a few years back and were at the bottom then of the Super League. One of them found the pressure even affecting his family relationships; to the extent that he felt that the only one who was offering him any affection at home was his faithful dog.

“In tough times like these,” he said plaintively to his family, scratching the ear of his faithful pet, “a man needs more than just one friend.”

So his wife went out and bought him a second dog.