Exodus 12:1–14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1–17,31b–35.

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen.

Today, with the reading from the Gospel about the Last Supper Jesus shared with his disciples, we enter the final day of Jesus’ earthly life.  Last Sunday was Palm Sunday, the day we remember Jesus being hailed as King as he rides into Jerusalem on a donkey. We know he is also riding to his death, with the cries of acclamation turning to cries for his blood.

Immediately before the passage in John, Jesus has been performing miracles and teaching the crowds, referring to himself as the Light, telling them that he would not be with them for much longer, and to make use of the Light, walk in the Light while they had it. In spite of this, most of the people didn’t believe that he was the Messiah, the one who was sent from God.  And so Jesus goes into the celebrations of the Passover, knowing this was to be his last day, knowing that his hour had come. In this setting, the meaning of ‘hour’ is much more than just that of chronological time, but contains within it also the meaning of fulfilment, completion: Jesus knew that his earthly ministry, what he had set out to do, what he had been sent to do, had been completed and would soon be fulfilled by his faithfulness even to death.

In the other Gospels it is during the Passover meal, this Last Supper, that Jesus institutes the Eucharist, the sharing of the bread and wine, but not in the Gospel of John. In John we have the foot washing described, the dialogues with Peter, the identification of Judas as the traitor, with Judas leaving the meal, and then, towards the end of the passage, Jesus addressing his disciples with the deeply affectionate term, ‘little children’, before Jesus gives his disciples his new commandment.

In what way was this commandment new? It is new in that it is based on a reciprocal love between Jesus and the disciples, which was referred to at the beginning of chapter 13 and also in the letters John wrote later : how much Jesus loved his disciples, the ones, as he said, he had been given. What is also new is the reciprocal ‘glorification’ of the Father and the Son, which is the background for the love between the disciples. “Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him.” (Jn 13:31)  That reciprocal and mutual glorification is expressed most fully and magnificently in Jesus’ final prayer that John records in chapter 17 of his Gospel. There Jesus prays, “Father, the hour has come; glorify your Son that the Son may glorify you”, a prayer for the indescribably bright shining of the full display of divine love, with that picture of the interdependence of the Father and the Son, the endless and eternal give and take of their love.

Jesus explicitly prays that this same dynamic and mutuality, this same glory that he shares with his Father is what he longs for his followers to have with him, with God the Father and with one another - an extraordinary new relationship of complete intimacy with God for those who follow Jesus. In this we also see part of the pattern of the Trinity, God, the Three in One, with the give and take of the Father and Son, to be joined by the Spirit, the one Jesus promised that his Father would send after he had gone, the Comforter, the Spirit of Truth that would lead them in to all truth. The sense of all this is contained in the words Jesus speaks to his friends, in his attempt to help them to understand what he is about. If they love one another with the same love with which Jesus has loved them, then they will be showing that they are indeed his followers.

And so we turn to the events of that Thursday – the foot washing and the betrayal. What can we learn from this day? What was Jesus trying to teach his disciples?

Normally when Jews celebrated the Passover they would have had their slaves or servants washing the feet of the family and guests before the meal began, but this foot washing in John takes place after the meal has already started. We don’t know what the other disciples said, but as Jesus starts to wash his friends’ feet we hear a dialogue between him and Peter. At first Peter recoils from Jesus’ action – no I am not worthy – you washing my feet!? Never!! Jesus explains that if he does not wash Peter’s feet, Peter will have no part in him. Jesus hints at a symbolic relationship that he is instituting by the foot washing. Peter gets it, he thinks, and immediately says, well, if this is something special that you’re doing, then great, wash all of me! Peter wants to be part of Jesus so much that he doesn’t want any bit of himself left out of this special new relationship.

Jesus then further explains the symbolism of what he is doing by saying that for those who have washed, they only need to clean their feet and then they are clean all over. Those who are humble enough to receive what Jesus in his humility is ready to do for them, then they are the ones who are willing to accept the cleansing which Jesus’ submission to his death makes available. That is all that is needed. No other washing is needed; no other or further means of salvation are necessary. This cleansing by Jesus places upon Peter and the other disciples the obligation to reflect the love which has been shown to them, to reflect Jesus’ own gracious love in their relations with other one another and with other believers. …”Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Those of us today who want to have a part in Jesus are under the same obligation: “love one another as I have loved you.”

We move from the intimacy and revelation of the foot washing to the bitterness and sadness of the betrayal. Jesus was betrayed by one of his closest friends, but it is clear in this passage that this did not come as a surprise to Jesus.  He was expecting it and he even knew which one of his followers it would be who betrayed him. Even though he knew, it still caused Jesus deep distress and grief, and he tells Judas to go and do quickly what he is going to do.

This is not the only betrayal Jesus faces. Later on that night, Judas turns him over to the authorities, but after that, as the dawn of the next day, the day of the crucifixion, begins, Peter the brave, strong-willed man of action, ends up denying that he even knew Jesus, not once, but three times. After Jesus’ arrest and trial, Jesus faces further betrayals when all his friends desert him, except for his mother, his aunt also called Mary, Mary Magdalen, some other women and John.

After supper Jesus and the remaining disciples go to the Garden of Gethsemane, to pray, but only Jesus stays awake. His friends fall asleep and Jesus repeatedly tries to wake them, but it is too late. Judas appears in the Garden with the chief priest, scribes and elders and with a crowd brandishing clubs and swords. We can hardly begin to imagine what it must have been like for Jesus to feel so alone, deserted, betrayed by those he was closest to, those to whom he had entrusted his teaching, his insights, those who had seen him preach and heal and perform miracles; those with whom he had just shared bread and wine, whose feet he had washed; those whom he loved.

Because of the betrayal, this night is also a night of shame, shame and deep regret. Later, as the sun begins to rise the next morning, when the cock crows, Peter realises what he has done. He knows he’s blown it. It will not be all right. There will not be another chance to put things right or make it better. Perhaps we can possibly begin to imagine something of Peter’s sense of shame, hopelessness, self-loathing and despair.

It was fear, and cowardice, that had driven Peter to deny Jesus: breath-strangulating, personality-altering, wild, dry-mouthed fear. Fear so intense that it caused him to swear blind that he didn’t know his own best friend, that he’d never even met the person he loved and had been following for three years, the One he had thought he would be willing to defend with his life. Instead, Peter had deserted and betrayed Jesus.

Tonight, whether in this church or in our homes, let us keep vigil with Jesus and consider what it would have been like to be Peter or one of the other disciples. Three years down the drain, gone, in a flash. So much for all the teaching, the laughter, the meals, the travels, prayers, miracles, friendship.

Let us also consider what it would have been like for Jesus, knowing his hour had come, trusting in God, knowing the reciprocal glory and love - and yet sweating blood. Begging his friends to watch with him, dreading the living out of his calling. Still trusting, still conscious of having been sent, of being the One Isaiah prophesied about, ‘despised and rejected, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief’. Tonight we move from the meal and the tender washing to the Garden and then into the courtyard with Peter, and if we wait long enough we, too,  can hear the cock crow.

Acts 5.27-32; Revelation 1.4-8; John 20.19-31

If I were to run through the list of Jesus’s disciples and to ask you what you knew about each one, I wonder what you would say.

o James and John - sons of thunder, perhaps, brothers, fishermen.
o Judas - betrayer, thief, keeper of the common purse
o Peter - loyal, denial, impetuous, fisherman, leader of the Church

And
o Thomas - the doubter. Poor old Thomas, always known as Doubting Thomas.

Thomas’s doubt is what we see in our Gospel story. But this passage is not just about doubt, it also has something else at its very heart - faith.

John writes: “these are written so that you may believe”. It’s the reason for his writing his Gospel, so that those who read it - or hear it as most in the early Church would have done - would believe.

There is debate about which John it was who wrote this Gospel. But there is no doubt about the reason for the Gospel - so that people might come to believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that through believing you may have life in his name.

Life in his name. The life that we see in the resurrection.

How do we feel if we’ve missed out on something? Jealous, maybe. Disappointed that we’ve missed something good. Sad. Wanting to know all about what happened. Perhaps even that it’s not fair we missed out.

Thomas’s reaction was to disbelieve what the others had told him. Understandable perhaps since what they were telling him clearly couldn’t happen.

A man fell over the edge of a cliff. As he tumbled down the cliff face, he managed to grab onto a scraggy little bush and hang on for dear life. He was terrified that he bush would not hold out, so he shouted up the cliff side in the hope that someone would hear him and send for a rescue team.

“Is there anyone up there?” he shouted.

To his delight, a voice floated down from above. “I am the Lord God, and I am here.”

“What should I do?” called the man.

The voice replied, “Let go of the bush and, with my protection, you’ll float harmlessly down to the beach below.”

The man glanced down and saw the drop of hundreds of metres to the beach below. He gulped and looked back up. “Is there anybody else up there?” he called.

It’s not easy to believe in something we know can’t happen. In human terms, anyone who lets go of a bush and falls hundreds of metres downwards to a beach is likely to end up smashed to pieces rather than have a safe landing.

In human terms, a man who has been crucified cannot walk and talk and reappear. It just doesn’t happen.

We don’t know why Thomas was not with the other disciples that Easter evening. Perhaps he was still grieving; maybe he just couldn’t cope with being with other people.
Perhaps he needed space to ponder what he had heard from Mary Magdalene, who had earlier announced to the disciples that she had seen the Lord. Had he cast this off as some hallucination of a bereaved companion? We don’t know.

Even when the rest of the Twelve say they have seen Jesus, Thomas can’t take it in. He’s a rationalist, who knows that the dead just cannot come back to life in such a way.

Many people today miss the risen Jesus because their rational mind can’t cope with the idea of something that goes against what we know to be the way things happen. Of course, others miss the risen Christ because they are too busy to look or not into religion so they ignore the possibility or because no one has ever told them about him.

But let’s not right Thomas off because he doubted.

It was Thomas, who back in chapter 14, John tells us, was bothered by what Jesus had said. I’m going to prepare a place for you, he had explained, so that I can come and take you there. You know the way.

How can we know the way, Thomas had asked, when we don’t even know where you are going. Always down to earth was Thomas, the one who asked what in human terms are the sensible questions.

But Thomas is also very loyal to Jesus, his Lord and Master. He is willing to risk his life. After the death of Lazarus, it is Thomas who says “Let us go with Jesus that we may die with him.”

So often we hear Thomas called Doubting Thomas because of his reaction to the other disciples’ news that we heard in our Gospel reading. But there is so much more to Thomas than that.

After he had seen the risen Jesus for himself, his response was “My Lord and my God.” That’s a response of faith not doubt. Little wonder that the Orthodox Church often call Thomas Believing Thomas.

And for most people faith and doubt go hand-in-hand. Faith would not be true faith if there was no possibility for doubt.

I think often people feel ashamed if they have doubts, but look at Jesus’s reaction to Thomas. He doesn’t reject him because he doubted, and nor will God reject us, if we are honest about our doubts. Thomas doubted and was met by Jesus’s love.

What should we do when faced with doubts? First of all, own up to them. By pushing them to one side and ignoring them, we hope they might go away - but that rarely happens. If we own up to our doubts we can then bring them to God in prayer.
We can be open with others about them - we might find that they too are doubting and we can encourage each other.

So, look at your doubts, don’t hide them. Notice that Thomas was bold enough to say to the other disciples, I don’t believe this.

Talk to God about your doubts. The worst thing to do when we doubt is to try and hide our doubts from God. You will know from human relationships that when we try to hide something from those we love, it often becomes a block between us. People may not know exactly what we are hiding but they usually suspect something is being hidden from them.

Hiding things from someone hinders the relationship. If we don’t offer our doubts to God, our prayer relationship is also hindered for we are not being truly open and honest with God. And, of course, God is aware of our thoughts anyway. So be open in your prayers.
And remember the response that Thomas received - it was one of love and not of rejection. God will love us through our doubts. God will continue to love us in spite of our doubts.

When those whom we love are struggling, we long to be with them in that struggle. God is no different. God longs for our openness and our honesty and our love. God wants us to be who we really are with him, not to try and cover up the bits about ourselves that we are struggling with. God loves us as we are. God doesn’t say I’ll love you when you believe this much. Even faith the size of a mustard seed is enough because a mustard seed will grow and grow.

And when you doubt some things, remind yourself too of where you have faith. Holding on to what you believe keeps you firm in the face of doubt. Thomas had doubts but he also recognised Jesus as “My Lord and my God.”

Doubts are a natural part of the life of faith. They are destructive only when we allow them to fester and are not willing to own them. For that is when they get in the way of our relationship with God, that is when they stop us praying. When we doubt, we need to keep on praying for that is what keeps the relationship alive in spite of doubts.

So, when you doubt, don’t be ashamed, but accept your doubts as the flip side of your faith. When you doubt, be honest about your doubts, with yourself and with others. When you doubt, don’t give up praying, for God is beg enough to cope with out doubts.

And, remember, more than anything else, the response that Thomas received from the risen Christ. It was a response of love, a response that didn’t reject him but accepted him, a response that then led Thomas to a deeper faith in the one who was his Lord and his God.
 

Acts 10.34-43; 1 Corinthians 15.19-26;
Luke 24.1-12

I have a difficulty with a very popular funeral reading. It’s the one that starts “Death is nothing at all.” It goes on to talk about how the person who has died is only in the room next door and how nothing has changed, how those left behind should laugh and smile and pray as they have always done.

Now, I can quite understand why so many people use this at funerals - and I certainly don’t want to offend anyone here who has done just that - but it’s the idea that death is nothing at all, I take issue with.

Those of you here who have suffered the death of someone close to you will know that life can never be the same again. For many, the death of a loved one brings with it the greatest pain that they will ever feel.

It can release many other emotions too: loneliness, anger, fear of being left alone, guilt, hurt, despair. A death might drag up unfinished business from the past or leave us grieving for things we never had time to say.

The pain might become less sharp over the years, but if we have truly loved the person who has died, we will continue to miss them and life will never be quite the same.

Bearing all that in mind, I cannot agree that death is nothing.
• Death is separation from those we love.
• Death in the human sphere is the end.
• Death is an ending. Even Jesus wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus.

And that’s how it would have seemed to those women who went early to the tomb on Sunday morning that first Easter.

They had seen the one they loved die on a cross in terrible pain. They would have been aware that he had had enemies. They may well have felt let down, deserted, fearful, sad and despairing. Or they may still have been at the stage of an awful numbness, a not-quite believing what had happened stage.

But without a doubt, they were expecting to go to the tomb and find a body. We’re told they are taking spices with them for the body.

Instead they come across something they hadn’t expected at all: the stone has been rolled away and there is no sign of a body.

God surprises them. God has done the unexpected. God has raised to life the one that they had seen dying with their own eyes.

And God still surprises us today. That is at the heart of the Easter story. God raised Jesus to life for ever. So 20 centuries later, God can continue to surprise us through Jesus because he is alive.

If death is nothing, then there is no room for God to work in the world. It was victory over sin and death that God won in Jesus on the cross. That implies that death was something to be concerned about.

God continues to surprise us today. God’s surprises are the things of life. The two men in dazzling clothes ask the women why they are looking for the living among the dead. That’s a question for us too, to open our eyes and see God’s life around us, to open our eyes and with them see that the tomb is empty and that Christ lives.

The women needed to see the empty tomb before that believed. But they were willing to let go of their pre-conceived notions of what should be in order to let God surprise them.
Often we fail to see God in the world around because we’ve shut our eyes to the unexpected.

When the women raced back and told the other apostles their news, they were met with disbelief, from all except Peter. This message that Christ was risen seemed so unlikely to them that it was dismissed as an idle tale.

But Peter, always impetuous, accepted their word enough to go and look for himself. I wonder how he felt at that moment, knowing that he had let Jesus down so badly only a couple of days earlier. Even so, this was such an amazing surprise, the thought that Jesus might be alive, took over so completely that he put aside any worries about his denial.

God surprised the women in a stupendous way. God surprised Peter that he went home amazed.
 
Let us allow God to surprise us too, in the dazzling dance of the sun’s morning rays, in the first shoots of life we see in the garden, in the faces of the people we meet.

Let us allow God to surprise us through the beauty of creation, through the glimpses of goodness in the midst of a selfish world, in our hearts and homes.

Let us lay aside ideas of what should be and what we expect so that we can open our eyes to the God who is alive and see his glory in the world around.

Let us allow the risen Christ to bring us forgiveness, to heal our hurts and to enter our closed hearts.

Not because death is nothing, but because death is something that is conquered by the love of God for each one of us.

May God surprise our hearts this Easter with his ever-flowing love and forgiveness, and may we then respond to the call not only to come and see but also to go and tell.

May our lives so bubble over with Easter life that others will be drawn to the risen Christ. Amen.

JUDAS ISCARIOT
Matthew 26.47-50; 27.3-10

Tom Wright tells a story in his book John for Everyone that he heard from a priest in Cambridgeshire village.

Sheep are instinctive creatures who manage to sense when something is not quite right. At a particular slaughterhouse, there was something that alerted the sheep to the fact that this was not a good place for them - whether it was the smell or some other warning of danger they picked up, I don’t know, but something got to them.

When the lorry carrying them stopped and the gangplank went down, the sheep refused to move. This caused problems for the officials at the slaughterhouse, but they have found an ingenious solution to their problem.

They now keep a sheep on the premises who has become so used to the place that he isn’t bothered by it any more. They walk this sheep up the plank, on to the lorry, and down again. When the other sheep see it, one of their own leading the way, they all follow in spite of impending death.

The slaughterhouse workers have named this sheep Judas.

Judas, a friend turned enemy; one of Jesus’s intimate circle now a betrayer.

We don’t know for certain why Judas betrayed Jesus. Some suggest that he was wanting to put an end to the money that he had seen wasted, that he felt his source of income - John describes him as a thief, was threatened - greed is at the root of this suggestion.

Others think that Judas was not trying to seek Jesus’s death, only to hasten some crisis point, which might then push Jesus into becoming more powerful in bringing about his kingdom. Remember that Jewish ideas of the Messiah at the time were far from the path of servanthood that Jesus took. Maybe he killed himself because he realised that it had all got out of hand and far bigger than he had expected.

Others speculate that Isacariot comes from the words Sicarii. The sicarius, a small dagger, was used as the name for a known group of terrorists who carried such weapons concealed in their clothes and whose aim was to overthrow Rome. If Judas was one of them, the argument goes, he was probably disappointed with Jesus’s lack of action against the occupiers.

What we do know is that something changed Judas. His focus had shifted from friendship and faith in Jesus to a darker place.

The paths of our lives can change easily too depending on where our roots are. Although we all start as those made in the image of God, some of us allow that image to become distorted as we walk through life, by bitterness or greed, by envy or hatred, by shallowness or self-interest.

There is a story about Leonardo da Vinci’s painting of the Last Supper. He spent a long time looking for someone to act as a model for Christ. After a long search, he found a chorister in one of the churches in Rome who fitted perfectly with what he wanted. This man’s name was Pietro Bandinelli.

Many years passed, and da Vinci was still working on the painting. He finally reached the point where it was all finished except for one disciple - Judas. He began looking for a model - someone whose face had become hardened and distorted by sin. Eventually he came across a beggar living in the streets, a man who made him shudder even to look at.

Da Vinci hired this man, and modelled Judas on his face. When he had finished and was preparing to bid the man farewell, he became aware that he didn’t even know the man’s name.

“I am Pietro Bandinelli,” he said. “As a young man, i sat for you as your model of Christ.”

Jesus let Judas go to do his treacherous deed. He didn’t try and stop him. He doesn’t force us his love upon us either, but allows us to choose whether we respond or not.

But that love is so great that it was willing to give up life so that we might gain life, so that we might be restored in that image of God in which we were first created.

Thanks be to God.

PETER
Matthew 26.69-75

Peter’s best is never good enough.

Think of the stories of Peter that we know. Peter, impetuous and loyal ,but always failing. Peter who couldn’t walk on water. Peter who opened his mouth before thinking about what he was saying. Peter who, however hard he tried, didn’t really understand the depths of much of Jesus’s teaching.

Peter who fell asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane. Peter, who though loyal enough to follow Jesus to the high-priest’s house when the others had fled, denies that he knows Jesus when Jesus is facing real trouble.

Peter is loyal and faithful. Peter is keen to follow his Lord wherever that will take him. But when the crunch comes, as so many of us are, Peter is weak.

But Peter is also a great example of the love of Christ. In spite of the times when Peter gets it wrong, Christ still loves him and forgives him, and carries on teaching him. Peter is the one charged with leading the church once Jesus has gone. Peter is the one in whom Jesus puts his trust, in spite of Peter’s failings.

Tom Wright in Matthew for Everyone says that he suspects this story - told in all four Gospels - was included because it shows how not to do it. We know from John’s Gospel that Jesus restored Peter and forgave his denial of him but we can’t escape the fact that when it mattered, Peter got it wrong.

But we can take hope. We too like Peter get it wrong. We too allow our loyalty to Jesus to fade. Peter may well have feared for his life - a situation that not many of us face - but how would we respond, I wonder, if we did.

We who so often deny Jesus by our words and actions. We are too shy about talking with our friends about him or those in need. We who look the other way when confronted with someone or something we don’t like.

We, who come to church and confess our sins, and then go out and do the same things again and again and again.

There appears though to be one big difference between Peter and Judas. Peter hasn’t premeditated this denial, though it was foretold. Peter is acting out of panic and fear. His denial is not something he has planned. And afterwards he is truly repentant.

He faces the risen Jesus again, knowing what he has done. Where Judas’s cowardice leads to his death, Peter’s courage leads to his facing what he has done and his repentance brings life and restoration of his relationship with Jesus.

And, of course, here we hit the heart of the power of Easter - restoration of relationship with Jesus. That’s what our faith is about.

We have all denied Jesus. We are all instrumental in nailing him to the cross. But through repentance, we can also all share in forgiveness and restoration.

When the cock crowed, Peter recognised his brokenness and weakness. True repentance follows a recognition that we are far from the heart of God. But, however, far we go, repentance will bring us back to the heart of God.

God uses the weak and vulnerable to change the world. God used Peter to lead the Church because he was humble enough to know when he got it wrong. Because Peter knew his weaknesses, God could use him mightily.

And it’s no different for us. In fact, it’s often our points of vulnerability that God uses most effectively in his work.

This story’s inclusion in our Bible should give us hope. Hope that we don’t need to be perfect before we can be used by God.

If we were, then the Passion story and resurrection has no meaning, for we would not have needed God’s redemption.

So, rejoice in your weakness, for when we are weak, God’s strength can be seen.

CAIAPHAS
Matthew 26.59-67; 27.1-2

There’s an enormous clash of culture between Jesus and Caiaphas.

Caiaphas, respected Jewish high priest, in charge of the temple, controlling its money and police, head of the Sanhedrin, the Jewish Council. Caiaphas was appointed though not by the Jews but by the Romans, so he had to stay in with them if he wanted to retain his power. In fact, he did. Caiaphas was one of the longest serving high priests in the first century - his rule of 18 years was exceptional.

Caiaphas was the face of the Jewish religion, its human figurehead. He was a man of power, and yet also a man whose power was not on his own authority for the Romans could hire or fire him.

But Caiaphas’s power was beginning to be threatened by this odd wandering teacher. Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem, feted as king, even though his mode of transport was somewhat unkinglike. He had overturned all the tables of the moneylenders and salesmen in the temple. He attracted huge numbers of followers because of what he said and did. People loved Jesus in a way that they never would love Caiaphas.

And, of course, the reason people loved Jesus is because he loved them first. Caiaphas ruled by power; Jesus through love and service.

Caiaphas, though a religious man, had become bound up with worldly trappings. Jesus challenged all this.

And, if Jesus was going to cause problems for Caiaphas, then he had to go. Too much was at stake for the high-priest. Fear and jealousy led his reaction to Jesus.

And, although he was a religious man, he shows us the hypocrisy which was one the things that Jesus spoke out against. Caiapahas is not too concerned about whether the truth comes out; he wants only an excuse to condemn Jesus.

So he doesn’t worry too much about the fact that the witnesses are not telling the truth. His main problem is that those witnesses haven’t collaborated on the stories so that they don’t agree. Even Caiaphas can’t convict on evidence that doesn’t stand up.

And then it’s OK for Caiaphas - Jesus digs his own hole with his words - the words he quotes from Daniel chapter 7: “From now on you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of power and coming on the clouds of heaven.” He doesn’t deny to Caiaphas that he is the Messiah, merely says “You have said so.” Caiaphas takes this as a yes.

Being religious doesn’t mean we get it right. Caiaphas’s religion was about external things; we know only too well that Jesus is more concerned about the heart.

We live in a world where there is a very strong clash of cultures, where Christian culture is so far removed from that of the world. Though Caiaphas believed he was serving God, he was extremely off track. He’d allowed the culture of power and of money and authority, of fear about his job, get to him. He was concerned to be seen doing the right things.

How easy it is to fall into those traps, to go along with what the world says is important, and to push out the image of Christ, the servant king.

Christ ruled not through power games but through service, not through authority derived from himself but from God.
Christ was never afraid to speak out against those who had it wrong, even the religious believers.

Caiaphas had allowed his faith to be distorted in the face of pressure from the world outside which became internal pressure to conform.

So often a clash of culture leads to extreme reactions as people become threatened. Think about how different the reactions of Jesus and Caiaphas are to this culture clash. Caiaphas determines to remove the threat; Jesus carries on following his Father’s will.

It’s tough to stand out against the crowd, but it’s what we’re called to do.

PILATE
Matthew 27.11-26

Have you heard those politicians being interviewed on the radio by ebullient journalists? They become more and more vehement and more and more insistent that they are right and that everyone else is wrong, and the harder the journalist pushes the more strident and adamant they become, the less likely they are to listen to any other view but their own. All that matters is that they keep banging away at their point to hammer home to people how right they are.

What a contrast with Jesus, who when faced with Pilate’s questions, remains silent. All he says before Pilate is “You say so,” in response to the questions Are you the king of the Jews?” And after that he is silent.

He doesn’t rise to the challenge presented by the accusations made against him. He retains his dignity, however, much those around him try to remove it. So different from most people when they are questioned, who feel they must argue their case or speak louder and louder until they have been heard.

If we believe the Gospels, Pilate knows that Jesus is innocent - and yet he still condemns him. Roman Governor of the province of Judea from AD 26 for ten years, Pilate is a bully and a coward. There have been several other flashpoints with the Jews before Jesus’s trial, like Caiaphas, his job is at risk if he doesn’t keep things calm and ordered.

Pilate lived mainly in Caesarea but would come to Jerusalem for festivals when there were likely to be many more people around and the threat of unrest was greater. He felt insecure when faced with the possibility of trouble.
Unlike Jesus, who, though he was the one on trial, stayed resolute and firm, trusting in God his Father.

Pilate appears to long for Jesus to reply to the accusations against him, so that he has an excuse to release him.

That doesn’t work so he tries another tack - remembering the tradition by which he has the power to release a prisoner sometime during the Passover Festival. Which Jesus do you want, he asks - this one or that one. Jesus called Barabbas, (Barabbas means son of the father) or Jesus who is called the Messiah (the true Son of the Father).

His plan doesn’t work. The crowd bay for the blood of the innocent Jesus and call for the murderer’s freedom. They’ve been stirred up by others, but large crowds can be fickle friends. Only hours before they were welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem and hailing him as king.

Pilate’s still not happy - what’s he done wrong, he asks. But the crowd continue to shout for Barabbas.

So Pilate gives in to the inevitable and capitulates to the crowd, who were becoming riotous. It was more than his job was worth to ignore their wishes.

But in spite of the fact that he is the one who condemns Jesus, he then washes his hands of his act, he refuses to accept responsibility.

That’s a plague of today too. People and companies are always seeking to blame other people when things go wrong. The “it wasn’t me” syndrome can affect people of all ages and at all times. It’s sometimes fear which pushes us in that direction - certainly I remember lying as a child when I’d broken one of my father’s standard roses in half with the edge of a deck chair because I was fearful of what he might do.

Sometimes it’s not wanting to face the consequences of taking responsibility or even laziness. Whatever the motive, it’s something I’m sure we are all familiar with.

And it’s not entirely surprising that that attitude comes about because in general people are unforgiving when we make mistakes.

But it’s the complete opposite of what Jesus did. Usually the guilty blame the innocent and try to make them take the blame; here the innocent takes responsibility upon himself for things he has never done.

Barabbas was set free. The innocent man was condemned. Pilate had not intended setting a murderer free but that was the consequence of his action.

And that is the story of us all. We don’t intend to kill Jesus. But his death is our path to freedom from sin. We can’t like Pilate wash our hands of the crucifixion and say it’s got nothing to do with me.

It has something to do with all of us, because, like Barabbas, we are all set free through its power. Pilate is no less guilty because he has washed his hands

But the responsibility we have is like no other. For taking on the responsibility means not taking the rap but receiving forgiveness, not accepting some kind of punishment. What a relief!

About ten years ago, I borrowed a friend’s fairly new Land Rover Discovery. At the time, my own car was a small, old Peugeot 205 with a few dents and scratches. I was so careful with this friend’s car, but, however careful I was, I struggled to adjust to the size of it compared with the only other car I had ever driven.
And then manoeuvering out of someone else’s driveway, I scratched the paint work.

It was pure accident, but on that drive back home I was so fearful of what the penalty would be and of what the owner would say. I went over in my mind what words I would use, how I could get round it. There was no option but to be upfront and open.

And when I did pluck up the courage and tell him about his car, he didn’t scream or shout. When I showed him the scratch, he wasn’t upset. He forgave me. He didn’t even make me pay for the repainting.

I felt so free at that point. All the guilt and fear I had felt, slid off me. The matter was never mentioned again.

That is what Jesus’s death does for each one of us when we receive forgiveness. It liberates us from our guilt and fears. Alleluia!

MARY
John 19.16b-18, 23-28

Of all the people we are looking at today, Mary seems to have the roughest deal. She is the one who seems blameless as far as the events have proceeded.

Let’s think about what she has faced. The miraculous birth of her first born son, all those unusual visits from angels and so on. Those piercing words of Simeon when she took Jesus to the Temple to be dedicated - “and a sword will pierce your own heart too”. She’s followed her son around, never failing to offer him love. She’s watched as people flock to him and others become bitter enemies.

Like any mother, she will have rejoiced and agonised over her son’s actions. She will have known that deep joy and deep pain that a mother experiences when seeing her children joyful or suffering.

She has followed to the bitter end, and resolutely stands by her son, even though the pain of seeing him dying must have been so great.

But she remains, faithful to the last.

And Jesus, hanging there on the cross in absolute agony, still thinks of those who are not himself. In utter torment, he is still able to look down from the cross and to show compassion for his mother and his friend. As he leaves them, he binds them together. You will be a new family, he says.

When we suffer, compassion for the other is usually one of the first things to go. Jesus can’t take away the pain of Mary or the disciples whom he loves, but he can help them to find comfort together in their shared love of him and their shared grief.

There’s a lovely story about a little boy whose elderly neighbour had recently lost his wife. He became very depressed and the little boy was somewhat concerned about him. One day, the boy spotted his neighbour sitting outside his house looking very downcast. He hopped over the garden fence and went and sat on the old man’s lap silently.

When he arrived home later, his mother asked him what he’d been doing. He explained how he had been next door. What did you say while you were with him, asked the mother. Nothing, said the little boy, I just helped him cry.

Mary and John could do nothing else but weep together and stand united in their grief.

Jesus’s care for his mother and his friend was evident. It was so powerful it could outlast the suffering of the cross.

But that message Jesus had for them, that they were part of one family, is also for us. That compassion he showed to them is also compassion he shows to us. More than anything the message God longs to give us is that he loves us.

It was love that nailed Jesus to the tree, love for us all. It was love that allowed sin to gain the upper hand for a while, but it was love too that was stronger than death and the power of sin.

Greater love have no one than that they lay down their life for their friends.

Jesus’s love extends far beyond Mary and the disciple whom he loved. Jesus’s love, those open arms on the cross, are wide open for us. They are calling us to him, an ever welcoming posture.

When we hug someone we usually start with wide open arms before we grip them tightly.
The wide open arms say “Come to me.” The open arms of Jesus on the cross say the same thing.

JOSEPH AND NICODEMUS
John 19.38-42

So we reach the final two characters in our story: Joseph and Nicodemus.

Whatever happens the cross of Christ pushes us into a decision. We can either ignore him or openly follow.

Joseph has been a secret disciple until this point, because he is scared to do otherwise. But the death of Jesus brings him out into the open. The death of Jesus faces each and every person with the question: do you wish to follow me? It’s a question that ha+s only two possible answers - yes or no.

Jesus has harsh words for those who try to ignore making a decision - the one who is not for me is against me.

Each Holy Week, we too are faced with that question again. Do you wish to follow me?
As Joseph discovers secret following is no longer possible. The cross draws us out and towards Christ.

We know so little about Joseph. We know that he is a Jewish member of the council who has secretly been following Jesus. He is rich and he owns a tomb.

And he comes with Nicodemus, who knows what it is like to be a secret follower. His first meeting with Jesus occurs at night, suggesting that he too doesn’t want to be found out.

And in that conversation with Jesus reported by John, we have some of the most powerful words in the Bible - God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send the Son to condemn the world but in order that the world might be saved through in.

Those words could be said to sum up the heart of the Gospel, what it’s all about. But only after the resurrection was their full impact known.

Later in John’s Gospel, Nicodemus is a little more open. When a dispute is going on between the chief priests and Pharisees and the temple police, who are reluctant to arrest Jesus because they have been affected by the way he speaks, it is Nicodemus who reminds the Pharisees that the law allows an accused person to be heard before they are judged.

He hasn’t openly said that he is a follower of Jesus, but he does show himself to have an interest in him.

He too by the time Jesus has died is outed as a disciple. Perhaps now that Jesus is dead, he feels he has nothing to lose by being open. We don’t know.

But he takes a huge amount of myrrh and aloes - a hundred pounds worth for the burial, far too much for one body. The sort of amount that would normally be used only for a king.

Joseph and Nicodemus are saying more in their actions than might be seen at first glance. Under Roman law, the bodies of executed criminals were usually handed over to their families. The Jews didn’t want to contaminate family tombs with evildoers, so they had a pit outside Jerusalem in which criminals could be buried.

Joseph and Nicodemus, by giving Jesus a new tomb, are implying that he is not a criminal. The amount of spices seems to be implicitly saying they recognise him as a king.

So Jesus’s death forces them to acknowledge who they think he is.

We too are asked who is this? Jesus himself asked his disciples that same questions earlier in his ministry. Who do people say that I am? And then who do you say that I am?  Peter acknowledged then Jesus as Messiah.

The question that we too need to ponder as we remember Jesus breathing his last this Good Friday is that same one.

Who do you say that I am?

Isaiah 50.4-9a; John 13.21-32

Have you noticed those streets where the house numbers jump from 11 to 15? Of course, the superstition about the number 13 has arisen from the act of betrayal we see the beginning of in tonight’s Gospel reading.

Yesterday we were thinking about Jesus the light. Tonight our thoughts turn to the dark deed of Judas. There are those chilling words. “And it was night.”

In the reading we have just heard, we see two types of friendship. We see the close intimate friendship between Jesus and the disciple whom Jesus loved, supposed by many to be John, although nowhere is he explicitly identified as such and it’s one of those things theologians still disagree on.

But we know he had a place of honour next to Jesus at the meal. Simon Peter was obviously further away since he signals to this other disciple to find out what Jesus is talking about.

Imagine how the disciples must have felt. Here they were having supper with their friend Jesus, a close tight knit group, when Jesus himself declares that one of them is a traitor. We can picture Simon signalling to this unnamed disciple - go on, find out what he’s going on about?

And the disciple whom Jesus loved, eager for an answer himself, whispering to Jesus - who is it?

It’s the one to whom I give this piece of bread was the reply. I imagine that only this close disciple heard these words, since when Jesus speaks aloud to Judas, the others don’t have a clue what Jesus is talking about.  But Judas and Jesus know that the night time has come.

This is a different type of friendship, a friendship that has lost its way.

Judas faces no simple task such as preparing for the Passover or offering money to those in need, as the others expected. This is the beginning of the end.

There cannot be a much deeper betrayal than that by a friend. Judas was one of the trusted twelve, a man of potential.

Here’s what the local management consultants might have said about Jesus’s choice of disciples.

Dear Sir, 
Thank you for submitting the CVs of the twelve men you have selected for leadership positions in your new organisation. All of them have now taken our battery of tests; and we have not only run the results through our computer, but also arranged personal interviews for each of them with our psychologist and vocational aptitude consultant.

The profiles of all tests are included, and you will want to study each of them carefully.

It is the staff opinion that most of your nominees are lacking in background, education, and vocational aptitude for the type of enterprise you are undertaking. They do not have the team concept. We would recommend that you continue your search for persons of experience in managerial ability and proven capability.

Simon Peter is emotionally unstable and given to fits of temper. Andrew has absolutely no qualities of leadership. The two brothers, James and John, the sons of Zebedee, place personal interest above company loyalty.

Thomas demonstrates a questioning attitude that would tend to undermine morale. We feel that it is our duty to tell you that Matthew has been blacklisted by the Greater Jerusalem Better Business Bureau. James, the son of Alphaeus, and Thaddeus definitely have radical leanings.

One of the candidates, however, shows great potential. He is a man of ability and resourcefulness, ambitious, and responsible. We recommend Judas Iscariot as your controller and right-hand man. All of the other profiles are self-explanatory. 

How easy it is to take a detour from the right path! How easy to let it all go wrong.

Holy Week is a good time to assess our friendship with Jesus, and where it is going, to look at the sort of intimacy we have. Will our friendship withstand the temptation to betray him - by our words, our actions or even our thoughts?

The closer we keep to Jesus and the further we allow ourselves to be drawn away from the temptations rooted in self-interest the deeper our friendship will become.

Walking with Christ in his suffering, sharing in this life-giving eucharist, following the way of the cross, we know that we are never alone, but that his hands are waiting to welcome us as intimate friends.

Isaiah 49.1-1; John 12.20-36

When I was a little girl, I was terrified of the dark. I would only go to bed, if I knew that my bedroom door was open and the light on the landing left on, so that I could see something. As many children do, I grew out of this, but just occasionally that sense of fearfulness because I can’t see returns.

Most recently it hit me when the mornings became dark last autumn. Some of you know that I go for a short run a couple of times a week. I do this first thing in the morning - it’s the one time of day I know I will always be able to do it, as no church services - well, except for Easter Day - or meetings are likely to happen at that time. In Sandy where I was a curate, there was no problem. I had a winter route and a summer route, so that when the mornings became too dark for one route, I’d follow a path that was street-lit.

That proved rather more difficult in Barkway. Some of the houses had individual lights but there were numerous patches where I couldn’t see a thing. And the first few times, I went running, I became quite fearful that I would fall over someone’s flower pots or run off the edge of the pavement, and so on.

Darkness can induce many fears. And for Jesus’s disciples in that first Holy Week, it must have seemed at many times as though darkness was gaining the upper hand.

However, the power of light is always greater than the power of darkness. Think about a tiny candle in the centre of an enormous cave. In spite of the greater quantity of darkness, the light will always shine out.

Light is a theme of John’s Gospel. Right in the first few verses, he speaks of how God’s light is the life of all people. Later we have Jesus proclaiming, “I am the Light of the world.” And in tonight’s reading, we see this image again.

If we think of the qualities of light, we can gain some idea of the characteristics of Jesus.

Light allows us to see the beauty of God’s creation, the colours and sights. Without light, we cannot see.

Light takes away those fears that we have about the dark. Light gives us something to follow. Think about how useful a torch is for walking around our villages at night. Light makes us safe.

Darkness conceals things that the light reveals. This can be hard since light reveals what is not good as well as what is good. In light, we see pitfalls as well as the path. Light too reveals our sin, the things that we would rather not show up, of which we are ashamed.

In equating Jesus with light, John is helping us to realise something about his character. If the qualities of Jesus are those of light, then we know that Jesus too has power over darkness.

We know that the light of Christ shines even in the midst of deepest darkness. As we think about the Holy Week story, we see Christ’s light in his response to suffering. John makes clear in his account of the Passion that he sees Jesus’s crucifixion as glorification. Throughout, the obedience of Jesus shines out.

When we view ourselves in the beam of Christ’s light, we too become aware of our sin.

But we are called also to reflect the light, we are called to become children of light.

As we become closer to Jesus, as we allow him to shape our lives more deeply, we will recognise our sinfulness and do something about it by God’s grace.

There is an old story about a little girl who went to church with her father.

During the service the little girl stared in fascination at the beautiful stained glass windows. She tugged on her father’s sleeve and pointed to the figures in the windows. “Who are they, Daddy?”

Speaking quietly, her father patiently identified each of the people depicted in the glass, and told her why their lives were an inspiration.

Later that day, after they had returned home, the little girl’s grandmother asked about their trip to church.

“Grandma, I saw the saints,” the little girl said with wide eyes.

The grandmother was taken aback. “The saints? What do you mean? What saints?”

“You know, Grandma,” the little girl said. “The saints are the people the light shines through.”

We too are called to be saints, reflecting the light of Christ, which continues shining even in the darkness.

Isaiah 42.1-9; John 12.1-11

In tonight’s story from the Gospel of John, we see many different reactions to Jesus. Holy Week is a good time to look at how we respond when we meet Jesus.

Let’s look at some of those characters in the story.

First of all there’s Martha. Famous for getting annoyed with her sister Mary when Jesus visits their home - that story is in Luke 10. Martha races round trying to provide hospitality for Jesus, and seems to be in a bit of a flap, while Mary sits around with Jesus.

Then later, when Lazarus has died, it is Martha that races out to meet Jesus, while Mary stays at home. Martha is obviously a do-er.

In the Jewish culture of the time, during the first week of mourning, family would stay at home except for visits to the grave, so Martha’s reaction is unusual.

Then in the story we heard today, again we see Martha, in the background, sorting out the practicalities of the dinner.

Martha is concerned for Jesus’s physical well-being. I suspect it matters to her what the meal is like - she would be one of those people today with the immaculate house, with the dinner parties that are always just-so, who get so uptight about the externals, that they are unable to relax in the company of their guests. Martha worries about how things look. She saw Jesus in terms of making everything look right.

Jesus’s concerns were more about the heart than about how things seem outwardly.

Then, we have Judas, shown to be a thief. Judas is caught up not with the beauty of Mary’s action but with how much it costs. It’s a common feature of life today, that we all recognise the cost of something but sometime miss its value. And, sadly, we can react to people in the same way.

We don’t always see the value of people as they have been created by God, if the things they do or say don’t meet with what we believe is right.

Judas could not see Mary beyond the waste of money. He was like those people who count every penny and become so concerned about how they are used that generosity and the joy it brings is far from their lives. Judas saw Jesus in terms of money.

Jesus’s concerns were more about the worth of all God’s children than about how much things cost.

We have two sets of peripheral characters as well. There are the Jews who have come to gawp at Lazarus, once dead now alive. (The notes in my Bible tell me that at Passover time as many as 100,000 extra people came to Jerusalem, so there could have been a good number of them making their way to Lazarus’s house in Bethany, about two miles away from Jerusalem).

They want Jesus for his miracles, and seem more interested in a magician than anything else. We all know how many of them turned against him in the days to come. They saw Jesus in terms of what he could do for them

Jesus’s concerns were more about revealing the nature of God’s love.

And the chief priests, more and more jealous of Jesus. They see someone challenging their authority, someone who is gaining more followers than they are, someone who engages not only minds but hearts. They are worried about losing their grip. They are people who rule and lord it over others. They see Jesus as a threat.

Jesus’s concerns were more about serving people than about having power over them.

And lastly, there is Mary: Mary who manages to see beyond the externals and the cost; Mary who doesn’t think about what Jesus can do for her; Mary who doesn’t hold power to be challenged.

It is Mary who is closest to recognising who Jesus really is. When we see Mary, she is at Jesus’s feet, not trying to be anything but herself. It is Mary that seems to have some inkling of what is to happen, since it is Mary who anoints Jesus for burial. It’s worth noting that anointing was also a sign of kingship. Mary seems to recognise this in Christ too.

Christ, the servant king, the one who is to suffer and to die.

May we, with Mary, be granted the grace to see who Christ really is, to follow his path of suffering, and to be raised to new life in him. Amen.

Sunday 22nd April - Easter 3
10.30 a.m. United Benefice Sung Eucharist and Junior Church, St Mary Magdalene, Barkway

Monday 23rd April
8.15 a.m. Morning Prayer, St Mary Magdelene, Barkway

Tuesday 24th April
8.15 a.m. Morning Prayer, St Mary Magdelene, Barkway
8.00 p.m. Deanery Standing and Pastoral Committee, Ardley

Wednesday 25th April
8.15 a.m Morning Prayer St Margaret of Antioch, Barley

Thursday 26th April
8.15 a.m. Morning Prayer St Mary’s, Reed

Friday 27th April
 
Saturday 28th April
9.00 a.m Morning Prayer, St Margaret of Antioch, Barley
7.30 p.m. Concert, Welwyn Garden City Male Voice Choir, St Mary’s, Reed

Sunday 29th April - Easter 4
10.30 United Benefice Holy Communion, St Andrew’s, Buckland
THE COMING MONTH
(Morning Prayer usually takes place each day: Monday and Tuesday in Barkway; Wednesday and Saturday in Barley and Thursday in Reed)

Wednesday 2nd May
10.30 Holy Communion, Margaret House, Barley
7.45 p.m. Reed VCC, Queenbury, Reed

Thursday 3rd May
10.45 a.m. Holy Communion, Wheatsheaf Meadow House, Barkway

Sunday 6th May - Easter 5
9.00 a.m. Parish Communion (said), St Mary’s, Reed
10.30 a.m. Parish Comunion + Junior Church, St Margaret of Antioch, Barley
6.00 p.m. BCP Evensong, St Mary Magdalene. Barkway

Wednesday 9th May
7.30 p.m. Barley VC First School Governors Meeting

Saturday 12th May
All day  Barkway Street Market
All day  Exploring Prayer Day, Cathedral and Abbey Church of St Alban

Sunday 13th May - Easter 6
10.30 United Benefice Sung Eucharist with baptism, St Margaret of Antioch, Barley

Monday 14th May
7.00 p.m. Church Times study group, Mount House, Barley

Wednesday 16th May
8.00 p.m. North Buntingford Prayer Group, High Bank, Reed

Thursday 17th May - Ascension Day
8.00 p.m. Holy Communion, St Mary’s, Reed

Sunday 20th May - Easter 7
9.00 a.m. Parish Communion, St Mary Magdalene, Barkway
10.30 a.m. Parish Communion, St Mary’s, Reed
3.00 p.m. Stewardship Celebration service and cream tea, St Margaret of Antioch, Barley

Monday 21st May
a.m. Multi-parish Benefice Consultation, St Albans
8.00 p.m. Barkway VA School Governors’ Meeting

Tuesday 22nd May
12 noon Deanery Chapter, The Rectory

Wednesday 23rd May
8.00 p.m. North Buntingford Prayer Group, Westfields, Barley

Sunday 27th May - Pentecost
9.00 a.m. Parish Communion, St Margaret of Antioch, Barley
10.30 a.m. Parish Communion + Junior Church, St Mary Magdalene, Barkway