Homily for Easter 2, 2008
March 30, 2008
Acts 2:14a, 22--32
1 Peter 1:3-9
John 20:19-31
Easter is about death and new life. We should not separate the two, for without death, new life is not possible, and without life, death is the reduction of all meaning to meaningless extinction. Let us step back for a moment to Good Friday. Jesus' death by crucifixion is both historical and real. By historical, I mean that it is attested by documents (admittedly not contemporary) both within and outside the Christian tradition. By real, I mean that it was a fully human death just like ours. As the church later developed the understanding of Christ as both human and divine, there has been a temptation, both in theology and in popular piety to see both the humanity and death of Jesus as a mere appearance, an act for the sake of an audience. I find the recent emphasis on the historical Jesus and his humanity (though not without its own theological problems) a useful corrective to this.
But what are we to make of the resurrection which we celebrate in this Easter Season? That famous statement of Anglican belief, the Thirty Nine Articles of Religion states:
Christ did truly rise again from death, and took again his body, with flesh, bones and all things appertaining to the perfection of Man's nature...
But, if we read carefully the texts of our scriptures, that is not quite how it seems to have been understood, either in the Pauline letters, our earliest texts, or in the tradition of the canonical Gospels. The resurrection was not a return to how things had been in the past. Paul speaks only of appearances of the risen Christ. The presence of Christ is a spiritual experience of the Holy Spirit: any physical presence is something which will be experienced only at the end time. The earliest part of the Gospel tradition speaks only about the empty tomb. It is in the later layers that we find narratives about a physical presence, and even then it is a mysterious presence, a body which, on the one hand, can eat and be touched, but, on the other hand, can appear and disappear and perhaps be in places far apart almost simultaneously.
As I was preparing the meditations on the Seven Last Words for the evening of Good Friday, I spent some time with the saying which John records:
When Jesus saw his mother and the disciple whom he loved standing beside her, he said to his mother, "Woman, here is your son." Then he said to the disciple, "Here is your mother." And from that hour the disciple took her into his own home.
As John knew well that the end of the story was Jesus' resurrection, why would his narrative need this episode of the arrangement for the future care of Mary? (Though note, in passing, that the mother of Jesus is never named as Mary in John's Gospel) Is this not a pointer by John that the resurrection was certainly not a return to what had been, but the breaking in of something decisively new. The experience of the presence of the risen Christ in the community demanded a new frame through which to look at life. In this new frame old ways of living and relating were no longer applicable or possible.
This is also something hinted at in the synoptic tradition:
As [Jesus] went from there, he saw two other brothers, James son of Zebedee and his brother John, in the boat with their father Zebedee, mending their nets, and he called them. Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.
Again note in passing note that the fishing stories which come at the beginning of Jesus' ministry in the synoptic tradition, in John are stories set in the post resurrection narrative.
Or, again:
Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; and whoever loves son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.
What I am trying to suggest is that the new life of Jesus in the resurrection is not is not the return of body, but a new life lived and experienced in the Christian community. The new life of the resurrection, both for the early Christians and for us is something which is radically different from anything in the past. It requires a new frame through which to see life, and in which to live it and experience it. I believe that this idea of a new frame much more adequately translates the important New Testament word metanoia, than does the usual translation repentance.
Many of you will know that my work as Dean, as well as Rector of Christ Church, includes a concern for all the parishes of our diocese, and the addition in the past two years the task of Archdeacon of Montreal has brought me a special concern for the ten Anglican communities of the centre of Montreal. In all this work I see a lot, not only of death, but of inability to accept the gospel challenge of a new life which requires a change of frame.
We can start with boring old statistics. I have tracked over 20 years four sets of figures: people who declare themselves to be Anglican to Statistics Canada, people who have their names on the parish lists of our diocese, people who give regularly to the parishes, and average Sunday attendance. With the exception of one or two parishes in the past two or three years, the pattern is a continuous decline in all those numbers, and the curve down is becoming steeper and steeper. It is almost at the point of free fall.
In order to try to elucidate what I think may be happening, and without pointing the finger at any particular parish. let me put a series of questions to which I will leave you to think about the answers.
Is maintaining the past more important than reaching out to the future?
Is the church more a meeting place for support than an encounter with the new life of the resurrection?
Are the pillars who have supported the church for many, many years more important than new-comers who might be searching for a community which exemplifies the Gospel?
Is the building and a form of worship more important than the message of the Gospel?
Are we people of change or people who resist change?
Does our outreach happen for the sake of those around us, or to make us feel good?
Does the community of change do anything to bring about change in society for more just and human relationships?
Are children, young people and people from different backgrounds welcomed, embraced and taken into the structure of the community, or ignored and marginalised?
Are we prepared to let the church die in order to receive new life, or are we just resigned to its death? Or are we struggling to keep alive something which should die?
As I approach the final years of my career-long active ministry, I cannot pretend to be optimistic about the future of the church. But I do believe in resurrection, and I do believe that Jesus lives! Happy Easter.
