Easter 2: Living the New Creation

Acts 4:32-35


Psalm 133


1 John 1:1-2:2


John 20:19-31

On Easter Day we contemplated the resurrection of Christ as nothing like an ending – happy or otherwise – but instead a beginning, marking the first event, on the first day, of a new creation.  Today we can see how the writer of the first letter of John reflects this by placing the resurrection – the start of this new creation – within the context of the first by using imagery from the Genesis narrative.  The author opens the letter by saying:  “We declare to you what was from the beginning,” and immediately the minds of the original readers – and our own – go to that first verse in Genesis: “In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth…” (Genesis 1:1)  Equally, the author evokes images of first day of the first creation by using the language of light and darkness: “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all.” (1 John 1:5b)  Here, our minds – as might the minds of the original readers – go again to those first verses in Genesis:  “Then God said, ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.  And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness” (Genesis 1:1-2);  equally our minds may go to the resurrection story itself, when “early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark” (John 20:1) the women came to the tomb only to discover that the light of God – the light of life – had conquered the darkness of death and the tomb.

Yes, the language in the first letter of John – written early in the second century – is chosen and crafted in such a way as to bring its readers to contemplate the resurrection as the beginning of something new, but at the same time uses the language of beginning to encourage his community, which had been experiencing internal conflict and turmoil, to begin to think beyond the beginning.  The writer urges them to think as to how the resurrection life which God has inaugurated in Christ and into which they had entered in baptism is to be expressed; and how by their lives they are to enable and continue the new creation already begun.  Unlike the first creation in which God himself brought all things to completion, and human beings were told simply to tend it and behave themselves, the new creation will require human beings to help bring it to completion.  But how?  By the community of those who have been brought into Christ’s resurrected life, that is the Church, witnessing to the the new creation in their lives and in their mode of living.  So, in the first verses of the epistle the writer stresses unity in fellowship.  If Christians cannot be joined to each other in fellowship, how is the world ever to believe that they are joined to God in the same?  If there is no unity in the most basic of beliefs among Christians, or if the bulk of their time appears devoted to in-house wranglings, or – worse still – if one faction feels their sense of being correct gives them the right to be rude, unkind or cruel, how is the world to believe that a new creation grounded in love and self-sacrifice has begun?  If Christians cannot be reconciled in fellowship one to another, how are they to make known God’s own reconciliation of the world to himself? (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:18)  Certainly, the writer of 1 John recognizes that the creation is not complete, and that even we who have been baptized and joined to Christ still will lose our way, that we will still damage ourselves and the community, that we sin; but in doing points out that sin not what ultimately undermines fellowship.  Instead, it is our unwillingness to recognize and accept the fact that we do sin.  In short, it is our hubris and hypocrisy which undermines fellowship: “If we say that we have fellowship with [God] while we are walking in darkness, we lie and do not do what is true; but if we walk in the light as he himself is in the light, we have fellowship with one another….If we say that we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us.” (1 John 1:6, 7a, 8)  The letter begs the question, if we as the Church are unwilling to be honest about the darkness and sin in ourselves, how will we ever be able to convince the world of God’s truth and compassion, how will we ever be able to escape the accusation of self-righteousness?

This idea of fellowship – in Greek koinonia (yes, that’s what it more or less means) – is at the heart of the Johaninne theology; but, more importantly, it is at the heart of the new creation revealed in Jesus’ resurrection.  In the life, death and most markedly in the resurrection of Jesus, God breaks down all divisions between the human and the divine; God forges a new fellowship with human beings, forges a new creation.  In the second letter to the Corinthians Paul writes that “in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself.” (2 Corinthians 5:19a), but that’s not the whole story, because he goes on to say that having reconciled us to himself through Christ, he has “given us the ministry of reconciliation…and [entrusted] the message of reconciliation to us, [making us]…ambassadors for Christ”. (cf. 2 Corinthians 5:18-20)  The fellowship – or as koinonia can better rendered, “communion by intimate participation” – which ought to exist among Christians, is the result of knowing deeply the truth that we are a new creation, reconciled with God.  The koinonia which ought to exist among Christians should be blatantly obvious to the the world by the ways in which Christians care one for the other, for example as depicted in the morning’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles: “There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold…and distributed the proceeds to all, any had need.” (Acts 3:34, 2:44b)  That koinonia is to be obvious by the ways in which Christians are the agents of God’s reconciliation: “If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if you retain the sins of any, they are retained.” (John 20:23)  That  koinonia is to be obvious by the ways in which we go out into the world in peace, imitating Jesus’ own mission and responding to his instruction: “Peace be with you.  As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’’ (John 20:21)

The Easter event inaugurates a new creation.  The resurrection of Jesus robs death of its power over the created over, and in him God reconciles all things to himself.  It is into this reality into which we are initiated in our baptism, our symbolic death and resurrection, the beginning of our Christian life when God called us “out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (1 Peter 2:9)  In our baptism God enables us to share in the divine fellowship that exists in God’s self, and calls also to reflect that fellowship and reveal the truth of a new creation in the world.  God takes the risk of making us the ambassadors of his vision, of his new but as yet incomplate creation, and therein lies the challenge that should challenge every Christian and every Christian community every day.  If the resurrection is real, then the world will only know it in our resurrected and fearless lives.  If it is true that God is reconciling the world to himself, then the world will only experience it in the lives of peace and forgiveness we live.  If God has indeed inaugurated a new creation in the resurrection of Jesus, then the lives of Christians cannot lazily reflect in the world’s old patterns of thought, or simply dress up the status quo, social constructs and prejudices in a thin veil of Christianity.  No, we must take the new creation seriously, the resurrection seriously, our baptism seriously, our fellowship with God and with one another seriously, and by the lives and witness declare “what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life [which has been] revealed to us.”   (1 Johh 1:1, 2)

Easter Day: In the Beginning....Anew

Acts 10:34-43

Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

John 20:1-15

  

We have arrived at last after our long Lenten observance – our long Lent journey – to Easter.  The last week particularly has been one of high drama.  The gospels’ telling of Jesus’ final days are worthy of any great story – friendship, love, betrayal, sacrifice, court room scenes, a horrific execution, and all culminating in today – what we call in the fiction trade, the “happy ending”.  As the narrator in Sondheim’s musical Into the Woods concludes: “And it came to pass, all that seemed wrong was now right, and those who deserved to were certain to live a long and happy life.  Ever after…”  It is tempting to see Easter as the concluding culmination of the events of Holy Week, the day in which we Christians and the Church find and celebrate our happy ending. 

However, if we do, we have really not made ourselves familiar enough with  the narratives of the resurrection as presented in the Gospels.  Take, for instance, the ending of the Gospel of Mark which was proclaimed last evening at the Vigil.  In it, there is no account of the resurrection at all – certainly no appearance by the resurrected Christ.  The women who arrive at tomb to anoint him are only told of his resurrection by the angels.  After which the Evangelist relates: “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” (Mark 16:8)  While subsequent redactors attempted to soften the abruptly ambivalent ending with words more hopeful, the vast majority of Biblical scholars agree that the Gospel of Mark originally ended as we heard.  There is little here of a satisfying conclusion, much less a happy ending.  In some ways this morning’s resurrection narrative from the Gospel of John is not any more satisfactory.  The two disciples believe, but do not understand.  And while Mary does see and speak with the risen Christ, and while she goes and tells the “brothers”, we are not certain of their response.  However, we do know how often incredulity was their attitude and we can extrapulate that reaction here, most especially perhaps since the news came from the mouth a woman; after all women were considered not fit to give official testimony in any public arena.  In any case, there is no definitive ending here either; a questioning inconclusion is the best we can do.  The doubt with which is shrouded the resurrection in the Gospel accounts, leaves open the question of whether good has indeed conquered evil, of whether the ending – if it is an ending at all – is happy or not.  In fact, at the close of Jesus spending forty days with his disciples after his resurrection there still appears to be no conclusion to the progress of events, and they ask Jesus “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”  Jesus says to them, “It is not for you to know the times or periods that the Father has set by his own authority.  But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts 1:7-8)  This doesn’t sound like an ending at, but something altogether different, and hardly a rest from labors in which “wrong was now right, and those who deserved to were certain to live a long and happy life.”

But what if we considered Christ’s resurrection not be an ending at all, but a beginning?  After all, is not this rather what the Scriptures convey?  In his letter to the Colossians, Paul writes  that Christ “is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation….He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in everything.” (Colossians 1:15, 18)  Equally, this morning we hear him write to the Corinthians: “for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.  But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ.  Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power.  For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet.  The last enemy to be destroyed is death. (1 Corinthians 15:22-26)  Paul here seems to understand Christ’s resurrection as not the ending of the anything, but rather the beginning of something completely new.  He describes and looks into a new future made available to all creation by the resurrection of Christ.  In fact, he imagines not just s renewed creation, but a new creation.  And that is what the resurrection inaugurates, and that is what we celebrate – that God making a new creation; notice I say “making”, not “has made”.  Easter is only the first day.

I have been asked so many times why the early Christians moved their principal day of worship from  the Jewish Sabbath – Saturday – to Sunday.  Well, apart from Jesus’ being raised on a Sunday, I have sheepishly offered historical reasons for the shift – reasons I have never found quite satisfactory.  Most recently, I have been struck with the fact that all the evangelists begin their resurrection narrative with these words: “on the first day of the week”.  It’s no accident or coincidence, because as Christians we are not celebrating the last day of creation in which God and all things find their rest.  We are celebrating the first day of the new creation!  And we are saying here something theologically quite important, quite central.  Easter is the celebration of the start, but also the ongoing, new creation, and as Christians it is that process of continuing creation in which we are all caught up.  When a person comes to baptism as Kaylee Belle did last night or as Megan (and hopefully others) will do in a few months time, they are joining themselves to the death and resurrection of Christ, to the new creation which has begun in Christ, and thereby are made a new creation themselves.  They, in fact, are becoming both signs of that new creation, but also the means through which that new creation will continue to come into being and ultimately reach its fulfillemt when God shall be all in all. (cf. 1 Corinthians 15:28)   Easter, Resurrection, Baptism – they are all the same, and mark nothing like an ending, but a beginning.

Last evening at the Easter Vigil the Easter light, the light of Christ, shone in the darkness; and our first Vigil lesson was the telling of the creation of the heavens and the earth with God’s first word in the Scriptures: “Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3)  The old creation begins with light shining in the darkness, and so does therefore the new, but that light is still only shining in the darkness and gains ground little by little as God’s new creation is being shaped and formed according to God’s new order, an order in which we have not only been invited to share, but which we have been called to fashion.  After all, in Christ, you…“you are the light of the world”. (Matthew 5:14)  No, there is no happy ending here, not yet anyway; but there is a happy, a glorious beginning.  Alleluia! Christ is risen and a new creation has begun.         

Maundy Thursday: Christ's Ministry, Our Ministry

Exodus 12:1-14

Psalm 116:1, 10-17

1 Corinthians 11:23-26

John 13:1-17, 31b-35

This past Tuesday the clergy of the diocese gathered here with Bishop Talton to celebrate the Chrism Eucharist.  This is an ancient practice of the Church in which the bishop blesses the oils to be used in the administration of the sacraments during the coming year.  These oils will be used to anoint the sick, mark catechumens, seal the newly baptized as Christ’s own, confirm the Holy Spirit upon God’s people, anoint the hands of those ordained to the priesthood.  Because this is one of the few times that the clergy gather all together with their bishop, the more recent custom has arisen in which the clergy of the diocese renew their ordination vows, and sometimes – as we did on Tuesday – the laity re-commit themselves to their baptismal calling.  While the distances in our diocese make it highly impractical, whenever possible the Chrism Eucharist has been celebrated during the day on Maundy Thursday.  Such a celebration seems only appropriate to Maundy Thursday, in which is revealed to us Jesus as bishop who calls his friends to unity in love, as priest who institutes the sacrifice and sacrament of the new covenant, and as deacon who as sign of his servanthood washes the feet of his disciples.  In its scripture readings and imagery Maundy Thursday reflects the heart of Christian ministry – service, sacrifice and unity.

When we speak about Christian ministry it is important to bear in mind that the Christian has no ministry save that of Christ, indeed that there is no ministry in the Church except for that of Christ.  As Christians, if we are engaged in service, it is Christ’s servanthood, we are manifesting in the world; if we are engaged in works of justice, compassion and reconciliation, it is Christ’s priestly work of intercession we are manifesting; when we work for unity in love, it is Christ’s unity with the Father and the Holy Spirit which we are seeking to share and make known.  There is only one who is anointed, only one who is deacon, only one who is priest, only one who is bishop – Christ.  As Christians in all our various ministries and orders, we are sharing in and trying to make explicit Christ’s own.  Tonight we recall that he gives to us the commandment – that is where the “maundy” in Maundy Thursday comes from – he gives us the commandment to share in his ministry.  In the words of institution he commands us to celebrate and present for all ages the sacrifice of the New Covenant: “This is my body that is for you.  Do this in remembrance of me….This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” (1 Corinthians 11:24b, 25b)  In washing his disciples’ feet he commands us to serve one another and the entire world: “So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” (John 13:14)  Finally he commands us to unity in love:  “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” (John 11:34)

It is unhappily all too often presented and understood by many Christians that ministry is only for the ordained, but what is becoming clearer and increasingly accepted in the Church is a more primitive understanding of ministry generally in which all baptized Christians – all those who have been anointed and marked as Christ’s own – share directly in Christ’s ministry.  Every Christian is called to share in Christ’s ministry of reconciliation by acts of justice and compassion, and by living lives in accordance with the principles of love, peace and forgiveness.  Every Christian is called to share in Christ’s ministry of service by enabling the disadvantaged, speaking out for the voiceless, championing the cause of the marginalized and dispossessed; but also by walking humbly in the midst of their sisters and brothers.  Every Christian is called to express the unity to which Christ calls us, most especially through his command to love.  We do this in any number of ways whenever we build bridges for sake of community, whenever we step out of ourselves to see things from the perspective of the other. 

In a very real sense the ministry of the laity is more difficult than that of the ordained, because ironically enough the role of the ordained is chiefly to exercise Christ’s ministry among other Christians; serving as a focus for authority certainly, but more imprtantly serving as those who enable and encourage the People of God to exercise Christ’s ministry in the world.  The bishop should model Christ’s pastoral care and love of unity to God’s people, in order that they can care for and love those among whom they live and work, and do so harmoniously.  Priests should teach and preach in such a way that the people of God are strengthened on their spiritual journey and given knowledge and instruction so as St Peter writes in his first epistle, they may make defense of the hope that is in us all and do so with gentleness and reverence. (cf. 1 Peter 3:15-16)  Moreover, priests should lead the people in prayer and the celebration of the sacraments, so that God’s people may be truly nourished and strengthened to discern and reveal the sacred in the world around them.  The deacon should guide her fellow Christians in service, discerning ways in which the whole Church can better serve the needs of the world, and of the most vulnerable in society.

Christ’s entrusts the ministry of his Church not only to the ordained – bishops, priests, deacons – but to the whole people who are called by his name. On Tuesday at the Chrism Eucharist the Bishop Talton spoke to all the people gathered: “Through water and the Holy Spirit”, he reminded us “God the Father has formed throughout the world a holy people for his possession, a royal priesthood, a universal Church to make known the truth of his reconciling love.  Every baptized Christian is called to share this ministry entrusted to the Church…. Will each of you, in the strength of the Holy Spirit, continually stir up the gift of God that is in you by baptism, and in your lives will you strive to make Christ known to all?”  Tonight is a good time to re-commit ourselves to that ministry – which is Christ’s ministry – as he once again entrusts us with it through Word and Sacrament, so that in all that we say and do we may be worthy of his name and the world might know that we are his disciples.  Amen.

             

Wednesday in Holy Week: Faith, Trust and Paradox

Isaiah 50:4-9a

Psalm 70

Hebrews 12:1-3

John 13:21-32

Lord God,

whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be whipped

and his face to be spit upon:

Give us grace to accept joyfully the sufferings of the present time,

confident of the glory that shall be revealed;

through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord.  Amen.

Scratched into the walls of a cellar in Cologne in Germany where Jews were hid from the Nazis are these words: “I believe in the sun,
even when it is not shining.
 I believe in love,
even when I don't feel it.
 I believe in God,
even when there is silence.”  Such a statement, such an assertion strikes at the heart of the mystery inherent in paradox, and through it we discover that the spirituality of paradox is not unique to Christianity, and that somehow it has something profound to do with faith and hope.  One aspect of the paradoxical, of counter-intuitive thinking resolves itself in our being able to look beyond the immediately rational or the immediately perceivable.  It resolves itself in a real sense of trust, the kind of trust expressed in today’s collect in which we ask God for grace to bear the inadvertant trials of life patiently, confident that there is a glory not yet fully discerned, not yet fully manifested. 

Unlike the collects for the Sundays in Lent, none of the collects for the Monday,  Tuesday or Wednesday in Holy Week find their origin in ancient sources.  This one dates from sometime in the 19^th century when it was unsuccessfully considered for inclusion in the 1892 revision of our Prayer Book.  It was included in the 1928 revision as the collect for Tuesday in Holy Week and moved to its present place in at the last revision; most probably because its words tie in with the day’s reading from the letter to the Hebrews.  These words from Hebrews were written during the period when it was becoming increasingly obvious that Christ’s return was not as imminent as expected, and in which Christians were suffering both emotionally and physically at the hands of their detractors.  The unknown writer of the letter encourages his fellow Christians to perservere and follow Christ’s faithful example.  Now, we sometimes think of faith as having to do with knowing something to be true.  Rather, Christian faith is better expressed in a word like “trust”; trust that even through suffering and trials God has a purpose for us beyond them, and that their existence and our experiencing of them in no way diminishes God’s sovereignty, God’s goodness, neither God’s plans.  The wickedness of others or of circumstances should not undermine our faith, our trust in God and what God has in store for us.

This is certainly a difficult concept to grasp; difficult for those first Christians, difficult for the unknown Jew hiding in a cellar in Cologne during one of the darkest periods in human history, difficult for so many people, difficult for us.  Indeed, the wickedness and cruelty evident in the world aroound us is evidence enough for many that no god exists at all, certainly, at least, not a caring one.  Belief in the kind of god which Christianity claims – personal, loving, sovereign – makes no sense in the light of this sort of wickedness, and yet we proclaim his existence Sunday by Sunday, and day by day.  Understood in this context we can see how it is not only the teachings of Jesus which are paradoxical, but the faith of every Christian who, while being honest as to the seemingly inherent cruely of the world, continues to trust that, as Paul reminds the Romans, the creation itself is groaning in labor pains as it awaits the full revealing of the glory of God and of God’s people.

As we come near to Lent’s ending, we still have a ways to go and its darkest observances are still to come.  Yet, the Church invites us to enter into them in the spirit of the counter-intuitive, in the spirit of the paradoxical and in trust.  She invites us to enter once again into the passion of Christ as instruction and reminder that things are not always as they seem, that the wickedness of the world and the cruelties to which we may be subject – while real and painful – are not the whole story, or even the most important part of the story.  Indeed that inspite of it all we can be “confident of the glory that shall be revealed”, no matter how dark things may get or how absent God may feel.

Tuesday in Holy Week: The Paradox of the Cross

Isaiah 49:1-7
Psalm 71:1-14
1 Corinthians 1:18-31
John 12:20-36

O God, by the passion of your blessed Son 

 you made an instrument of shameful death
to be for us the means of life: 

 Grant us so to glory in the cross of Christ,
 that we may gladly suffer shame and loss 

 for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. 

We continue as we have done all through Lent looking at and praying specfically with the collect of the day, and this week we look at them particularly within the context of paradox. We considered yesterday a paradox to be “a seemingly absurd or self-contradictory statement or proposition that when investigated or explained may prove to be well founded or true.” If we come to really examine the meaning of paradox, we very quickly come to discover the central place it had in Jesus’ teaching, but also the very central place the paradoxical, the counter-intuitive, has in Christianity. Indeed, at the very heart of our faith is this object of torture, humiliation and death – the cross. Our familiarity with this image makes it almost impossible to see our very strange relationship to it, but Paul speaking in the very early years of the Church understood all too well how strange this confession must have been to his contemporaries, both Jews and Gentiles: “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling-block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those who are the called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:22-24) For neither Jews nor Greeks does the cross make any sense. It is foolishness clear and simple, and therein lies the nature of the paradox. 

 The paradox of the cross to which Paul alludes is echoed in today’s collect as we confess that this “instrument of shameful death” has been made “for us the means of life”. And so while the early Christians quickly discerned the cross as the a “noble tree” and the source of new life, to those living within the rule of Rome, the cross and crucifixion stood for one thing only – naked power and the most brutal use of violence. And as we peer into the truth of the cross we can see both realities, both salvation and devastation. In the cross is shown the depth of the divine love for human beings, but also it is a mirror in which is reflected humanity’s capacity for cruelty. If we are serious about the Christian enterprise, we cannot escape the two opposing and yet inextricably connected realities. The paradox of the cross ought to challenge us daily, because it gives the lie to games of power and one-up-manship we often play, and also humbles us in our narrow definitions of success and failure. For the Christian, real power seems to be revealed in obedience, and real strength in weaknes, and glory seems to have something to do with suffering. Certainly, this is how it is presented in the Gospels. Jesus in considering his passion does not shirk or wish to be saved from that hour, but instead asks that his Father’s name be glorified in his passion, and he proclaims that by his being lifted high up, he will draw all people to himself. 

The mystery of the cross, the mystery of death and resurrection, are the central mysteries if our faith. They represent the counter-intuitive wisdom of the kingdom, the counter-intutive wisdom of God; and they invite us to see the world as God sees it. It is a world where conventional failure is success and what appears as foolish and illogical to most people, is actually what makes most sense, because we have come to know in our own lives and experiences that God chooses what is foolsh in the world to shame the wise, what is weak in th world to shame the strong, what is low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are. It is a thrilling and a frightening prospect, and that’s a paradox too. As we come near Lent’s end, pray that God may give to you – and to all of us – eyes and hearts and minds to discern God’s wisdom among the voices of reasoned foolishness, and that we may have the courage and inisght to embrace the counter-intutive truth of the cross, and thereby come to both life and glory. O God, by the passion of your blessed Son you made an instrument of shameful death to be for us the means of life: Grant us so to glory in the cross of Christ, that we may gladly suffer shame and loss for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Monday of Holy Week: Paradox and Reason

Isaiah 42:1-9
Psalm 36:5-11
Hebrews 9:11-15

John 12:1-11

Almighty God,

whose most dear Son went not up to joy

but first he suffered pain,

and entered not into glory before he was crucified:

Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross,

may find it none other than the way of life and peace;

through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

In these next three evenings my hope is that we can continue using the day’s collect as a focus for reflection, but I would like to consider them within a central theme of Christian faith – paradox. As a word, paradox, appears in English sometime in the mid-16th century and originally denoted any statement contrary to accepted opinion. Its contemporary usage, as I have discovered it, defines it as “a seemingly absurd or contradictory statement or proposition which when investigated may prove to be well founded or true.” When you really come to think of it, so much of Christian faith and truth finds it expression in the form of paradox: if you want to receive, then learn to give; if you want to be forgiven, then forgive first; if you want to feel a part, invite someone in. And it is this paradoxical truth to which today’s collect alludes.

Of all the collects we have been considering, this is the first which finds it composition in the American Church. Its author, William Reed Huntington, inspired by words contained in the Visitation of Sick until the 1928 revision, composed and included it in his work 1882 Materia Ritualis written as preparation was for upcoming Prayer Book revision. The collect finally found its way into the 1928 Prayer Book. In our current Prayer Book we find it in three places. It is, of course, the collect for today, but we also would have heard it yesterday, as it is appointed to be used as a station collect in the proper liturgy for Palm Sunday. Additionally, it appears in Daily Morning Prayer under the heading “A Collect for Friday”. The Prayer Book provides so many opportunities for us to hear and pray this collect because, perhaps, it is so needful we come to terms with its truth; its paradoxical, counter-intuitive truth that the most commonsensically obvious path is not the one that gets us to where we may want to be going, or that the most obvious is not the most helpful, or even the most true.

Look at the figure of Mary in this evening’s gospel, and look at the figure of Judas. In her breaking open the costly perfume and anointing Jesus’ feet, Mary “wastes” possibly up to 300 denarii – remember a denarius was equivalent to a day’s wages for a common laborer and for some people 300 denarii might represent more than a year’s earnings. What could be more counter-intuitive – foolish even – than what she did? It makes no sense. And where is the voice of reason? In mouth of Judas – a traitor and a thief, at least as the evangelist represents him – who pipes up “Why was this perfume not sold for three hundred denarii and the money given to the poor?” (John 12:5) Now, he does makes a lot of sense. Yet, whom does the evangelist depict in better light, and which of the two figures are held up as models of Christian discipleship? Mary, certainly, and in large part because she is able to interpret the events around her with a counter-intuitive reason and disern not the obvious, but the deeper reality. None of Jesus’ other followers have been willing to accept that he will suffer pain and crucifixion before he goes up to joy or enter into glory; only she, and by anointing him in this costly way she affirms the reality of his identity and of his mission. She affirms the truth of paradox.

I sometimes wonder if both Mary and Judas were bringing their proposals for the use of 300 denarii to one of our vestries, which of the two would get backing. How often are willing to make the counter-intuitive choice that draws into the truth of paradox? This doesn’t mean we ought to abandon reason or commonsense, but it does mean that sometimes while the shortest route from A to C is through B, it is not always the best, the most beneficial or even the most authentic, and that sometimes the most obvious or most simple or most convenient plan of action does not always get us to where we really want to be or need to be. Instead, we need the counter-intuitive vision; the understanding that encompasses paradox as the conveyor of some of the deepest truths me know. As we enter into these more sacred days of the Christian year, we enter also into Christianity’s most sacred mystery expressed in the disturbing paradox that new life is found only through death. Each year we are challenged – and every day we should be challenged – by this truth, and we are invited, counter-intuitively, to discover life and peace through the torturous and circuitous way of the cross. Pray that our common-sense or reasonable plans of action get not too much in the way.