May 3, Easter 4, Year B (RCL)
The scene is a courtyard, in the city of Jerusalem.
It’s just a few months
since Jesus has died,
just a few months
since the desolation of that Friday afternoon
when it seemed that the world should have stopped, ??? months
since they laid his body in the tomb.
just a few months minus two days
when the unthinkable happened,
Jesus
risen
from the dead.
Appearing in a locked room,
still with holes in his hands.
Walking beside them along a country road.
Grilling fresh-caught fish
on the beach.
And then he left again, but this time the promise
of his spirit
seemed a little more believable,
and when seven weeks later
wind and fire
rushed through the room they were in
they knew that his promise had been worth believing,
and ever since then it’s been as if
they’ve been part of a bubble
getting larger and larger and larger.
On the day before Pentecost
there were just 120 believers;
the next day, it swelled to two thousand.
And now, just a few months later, there are more
than 5000 followers, 5000 brand new
baby Christians. In just a few months.
But we all know
that eventually
a bubble
has to
burst,
and to any sane person
this day
looks like
the day.
Because if nothing else, it stands to reason
that sooner or later
the authorities will have to stand up and take notice.
Sooner or later
they’ll realize
that the problem they thought they had taken care of
with the execution
of one man
has become a much bigger problem.
Five thousand people problem, in a city that most of the time
had only about 80,000. Even if the Christians included some people from out of town, that’s a lot of people, more than five percent of the population. And the ringleaders, it seems,
are Peter and John.
Two of the original ones
who’d disappeared for a while
after they killed the one,
but now are back
preaching and healing and rabble rousing
right there
in the heart of the city,
in the heart of the temple.
It’s time
to teach them
a lesson.
And they’ve been teaching the people and proclaiming the resurrection, and most of all, daring to heal someone int he precincts of the temple. It’s the perfect excuse
to bring them in.
And so they arrest Peter and John,
arrest them at night
and throw them in jail. And at first light,
bring them out into a courtyard to face their accusers,
the rulers, the elders, and the scribes;
among them Annas, a retired high priest, and Caiaphas, his son-in-law and the current high priest, and John and Alexander, there with front row seats
because they’re related to them.
And hanging around the edge
some servants,
and by the entry gate, just in case they try to escape,
a couple of soldiers.
It was all too much
like another morning,
one that they would never, could never
forget.
Another early morning
in that very same courtyard.
The same people there,
That time
it was dark still,
the only light
from the torches held by the soldiers surrounding the man,
too many soldiers you would have thought
for someone who looked pretty harmless. But they say that looks can deceive, and especially this man - not harmless at all, but a dangerous rebel.
That time
they hadn’t stayed in the courtyard, but had hustled him into to the building.
And in the light of the torches
the faces of the religious leaders,
Annas and Caiaphas that time too,
and across from them the witnesses
ready to condemn.
And outside in the other side of the courtyard, a small smoky fire, and servants gathered round, up early as usual, but unable to do their normal work because of the impromptu trial, and some extra soldiers,
and with them
a few onlookers, people who had wandered in from the street to see what all the commotion was.
And Peter was there then too,
not with the torch-lit circle of accusers, but out by the fire,
wanting to be near his friend and teacher, but trying as hard as he could to disappear into the darkness,
but still someone noticed him and asked,
“Weren’t you with Jesus the Galilean?”
“NO!” Peter almost shouted,
and quickly lowered his voice
as people turned to see what was going on.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And then someone else saw him and said to the servants beside her,
“This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.” And again he denied it.
Ad then a couple more people came up: “Surely you’re one of them - you have the same accent!” And Peter began to curse, he swore, “I don’t know the man!”
And the cock crowed, and the trial, such as it was, continued,
and Jesus
was condemned
to death.
A few months later
and it is the same courtyard, and mostly
the same cast of characters. Except this time
it is Peter
who is on trial, Peter
who had denied Jesus.
And the memories of the last time they were there
are still fresh in their minds.
The arrest, the trial, the execution.
The denial.
And so they ask him.
“By what power or by what name did you do this?”
Just as they had asked Jesus.
And Peter answered,
Peter answered, not, this time
with a denial, but with this.
‘Rulers of the people and elders, if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead.”
It’s hard to believe
that this is the same man
who just a few months earlier
had denied even knowing Jesus.
And a man who remembered too well
the outcome of that other trial.
Peter knew
that his answer
might bring him the same judgment as Jesus.
Death.
But this is the same man, and what changed him
was an encounter
with the risen Christ.
Breakfast on a beach with Jesus, who asked Peter three times
if he truly loved him. Three times, just as Peter had denied him, Peter answered, “You know that I love you.” And three times,
Jesus commissioned him
to feed his sheep.
That encounter
transformed Peter.
From a terrified friend
to confident leader,
preaching the gospel
of Christ resurrected.
And what has happened
is not Peter’s doing.
It’s God’s.
And it’s a transformation
that is not confined to Peter.
Time after time in the book of Acts
we see people transformed;
the most dramatic after Peter is Saul the persecutor
who met the risen Christ on the road to Damascus
and became Paul
the apostle.
And ever since then
people have continued to be transformed
by meeting Christ.
Sometimes it’s dramatic,
Martin Luther,
John Wesley;
most times
its quieter, gentler,
an ongoing process
of being reshaped
into the image, the character, the life
of Christ.
In our mission statement,
and in the parish prayer that we pray each week,
we invite God to transform us.
To take us as the people we are
and reshape us
into faithful disciples.
This is God’s work. It’s not about us trying hard to be good,
but rather, letting go enough
to let God take hold of us.
Trusting
that what God does
will be good, very good.
This week I’ve been reading the popular novel, “The Shack.”
I have to say, that I don’t agree with everything in it.
But one of the great gifts is offers
is a model of transformation.
In conversation with God
the protagonist, Mack
is led to understand
that his insistence on independence, his insistence
on dealing with everything
in his way
has been a barrier to his own healing.
What he has to do,
is be willing
to let go of that
and let God guide him,
let God take him places
that maybe he isn’t quite sure
he wants to go,
to trust that God is indeed good,
and will lead him to something far better
than he ever
imagined.
We may not all be called to preach like Peter.
But God is at work in each and every one of us,
inviting us
like Peter,
to let go of the things that hold us back
an welcome the risen, resurrected, renewed life of God
into our lives.
And how do we do that?
One way
is in confession.
In the silence
before we say the confession together,
giving over to God
the things that are painful within us,
the hurts, the anger, the shame
and asking God
to heal us.
And not just Sunday mornings
but every time those things rear their heads in our lives
turning them over
to God
for healing
and forgiveness,
and inviting God again
to live within us.
God is good.
We have nothing to fear.
And God will transform us
and transform our lives
so that they are ever richer, ever fuller,
ever holier.
© Raewynne J. Whiteley 2009