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A sermon preached at Salisbury Cathedral on Sunday 11 April by Canon Jeremy Davies, Precentor
"SEEING AND BELIEVING"
I hope you have had a chance – or will take an opportunity later – to admire the banners placed in the nave aisles. They are, as many of you will recognise, remnants of the moving scenery which were carried in the Way of the Cross a week last Friday. They were designed by Sarah Morris, a local artist and silver worker here in Salisbury, and painted (or made with other fabrics) by children from local schools. I think they did a very good job and are to be congratulated.
These banners tell a story – as you will immediately recognise – the money changing in the hands of the temple merchants which caused Jesus’ anger; the cock which recalls the poignancy of Peter’s denial; the scrolls of the Jewish law which remind us of the collusion of the religious leaders in Jesus’ arraignment; the stumbling figure of Jesus under the weight of his cross; the black face of the man from North Africa who helped him on his way; the hands of the crowd, cheering here, lamenting there, pointing in judgement or clasped in unholy alliance. They tell a story in multi-colours, and they helped us to tell a familiar story in fresh ways on the streets of our city in the hope that the story, so unfamiliar to many of our contemporaries, would resonate with them as a profoundly human story with which they as well as we could identify. We hoped and prayed that taking the story of Jesus’ journey to the cross out of church and onto the streets would help us all to see and believe.
‘Seeing and believing’ is one of the persistent themes of the gospel of John. You can’t escape the rhythm of the evangelist’s insistence as, right from the start of the gospel, he takes a light and holds it up so that we may see beyond our everyday, mundane vision, into the deeper things of ourselves and our God which only believing can penetrate.
John’s Gospel doesn’t have an account of the Transfiguration: the moment recounted in Matthew, Mark and Luke when Jesus’ glory is revealed to three of the disciples and he is seen talking to Moses and Elijah on the top of a mountain. But John’s Gospel, even without that moment of transfiguration, is the gospel of transfiguration. That is to say, this gospel is studded with moments of disclosure and revelation when the scales fall from the eyes of Jesus’ followers and they truly see who Jesus is and, in that moment, their lives are transformed.
Let me just take one pivotal example from the many illustrations of this theme of seeing and believing, of recognition and transformation, which is such a constant refrain in this gospel. In chapter 9 for example; the whole chapter is taken up with an account of a healing miracle when Jesus, seeing a blind man, makes a mud pack, anoints the man’s eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam, his sight restored. Such miracles in John’s gospel are referred to as signs: signs of God’s presence in the world. And as so often with the signs that Jesus performs, this is a point of revelation, signalling Jesus’ true identity as Son of God. It is also a point of departure: a moment of dissent, of choice, of decision – a crisis moment.
Jesus has performed this sign of restoring a man’s sight on the Sabbath day, so immediately the religious leaders are affronted, since one of the commandments – to keep holy the Sabbath day – has been breached. In their determination to discredit Jesus they question the man born blind and his parents, even suggesting that the whole thing is a hoax – the man wasn’t blind at all, it’s all a confidence trick. Even under duress, and having been driven out by the authorities, the formerly blind man continues to assert the truth of what Jesus has done and the transformation that has occurred in his life. Jesus, indeed, returns to the blind man at the end of the story to hear his version of events. “Jesus heard that they had driven the cured man out and when he found him, he said: ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answered him: ‘And who is he sir? Tell me so I may believe in him.’ Jesus said to him: ‘You have seen him and the one speaking with you is he.’ He said: ‘Lord, I believe’.”
Seeing and believing is one of the persistent themes of the Gospel of John, and you will remember that, in John’s account of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances, the disciples have to be cured of their blindness, they have to see what has long been under their noses but they have been blind to. Mary Magdalene in the garden of the resurrection finds the tomb empty, the body of Jesus gone, with only the gardener for comfort. Until the gardener speaks her name and she recognises the risen Lord. The disciples are fishing on the lake; they see a stranger who tells them to fish again despite their failure previously to make a catch. Only then do they recognise the stranger on the shore. And Thomas – he has to see the wounds of the risen Christ in order to believe that this is not some almighty confidence trick. All of them have to experience the resurrection for themselves. They have to recognise Jesus as both their human friend and brother, and as their Lord and their God – which is why Jesus can pass through locked doors to be with them, and also asks for something to eat, and cooks breakfast for them. The risen Lord of John’s gospel is recognised – beyond their normal sight – as both God and man, bringing together in his scarred body both heaven and earth.
But in this gospel something else has changed, as well as the disciples’ perception. There is a new tempo, a new dynamic, a new imperative. When Jesus on the seashore said to the disciples: “Come and have breakfast”, he didn’t intend to have a cosy chat and talk over old times. He was shaping the future and was about to place that future into the hands of this flawed, frail and fallible group of men and women. John doesn’t mention the church in his gospel but that is what he is convening in the days after his resurrection. He gives his disciples enough to open their eyes and reconstitute their faith. Thomas has to see the wounds but Mary is forbidden to touch the risen Christ lest she should cling to the past. Peter needs to hear words of love and forgiveness. Others need to have their skills as fishermen honed and affirmed for they will fish for men. And once his team has been equipped and drawn together as a renewed and resurrected group, he gives them a mission. Jesus remembered the words of the blind man he cured: “Tell me who this Son of Man is, so that I may believe in him”. Men and women down the ages cannot believe in Jesus and the transforming presence of God unless there is someone to tell them. The first tellers of the story of the risen Lord is this motley group of deniers, betrayers and false friends. To one he says: “Go and tell my disciples”, to others he says: “Come and have breakfast” and “Bring the catch that you have made”. To Peter he says: “Feed my sheep and follow me”. And in that upper room on the day of the Resurrection, Jesus appears to them all (except Thomas) and says: “Peace be with you”. He breathes on them the breath of the Holy Spirit (he doesn’t follow Luke and wait fifty days for Pentecost – John is far too impatient). And he gives them their mandate and their mission: “Receive the Holy Spirit: forgive sins and retain sins: free people from their sins or stand beside them in their predicaments.”
Seeing and believing is one of the persistent themes of John’s Gospel: it involves seeing what is there but is so often unrecognised or misunderstood by our self-absorbed imaginations. It involves seeing ourselves as we truly are – as self-absorbed, wayward, frail and fallible – and that will be a painful process of self recognition. But the pain is worth it for the joy of being forgiven, reconvened as God’s sons and daughters, and given a part in his purposes for the world.
The risen Lord now as then is shaping the future: and is about to place the future into our hands. Into the hands of a flawed, frail and fallible group of men and women. We are the group, along with countless others, who are called by the risen Lord to come and have breakfast and then to go. Go and tell the story, live the new life, transform lives around you by your love. And if you want inspiration in story-telling, take the pictures that children have painted as they told the story last Good Friday, and find the colour that will convince our sceptical generation who have not seen, that the risen Christ is indeed their Lord and their God.
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These banners tell a story – as you will immediately recognise – the money changing in the hands of the temple merchants which caused Jesus’ anger; the cock which recalls the poignancy of Peter’s denial; the scrolls of the Jewish law which remind us of the collusion of the religious leaders in Jesus’ arraignment; the stumbling figure of Jesus under the weight of his cross; the black face of the man from North Africa who helped him on his way; the hands of the crowd, cheering here, lamenting there, pointing in judgement or clasped in unholy alliance. They tell a story in multi-colours, and they helped us to tell a familiar story in fresh ways on the streets of our city in the hope that the story, so unfamiliar to many of our contemporaries, would resonate with them as a profoundly human story with which they as well as we could identify. We hoped and prayed that taking the story of Jesus’ journey to the cross out of church and onto the streets would help us all to see and believe.
‘Seeing and believing’ is one of the persistent themes of the gospel of John. You can’t escape the rhythm of the evangelist’s insistence as, right from the start of the gospel, he takes a light and holds it up so that we may see beyond our everyday, mundane vision, into the deeper things of ourselves and our God which only believing can penetrate.
John’s Gospel doesn’t have an account of the Transfiguration: the moment recounted in Matthew, Mark and Luke when Jesus’ glory is revealed to three of the disciples and he is seen talking to Moses and Elijah on the top of a mountain. But John’s Gospel, even without that moment of transfiguration, is the gospel of transfiguration. That is to say, this gospel is studded with moments of disclosure and revelation when the scales fall from the eyes of Jesus’ followers and they truly see who Jesus is and, in that moment, their lives are transformed.
Let me just take one pivotal example from the many illustrations of this theme of seeing and believing, of recognition and transformation, which is such a constant refrain in this gospel. In chapter 9 for example; the whole chapter is taken up with an account of a healing miracle when Jesus, seeing a blind man, makes a mud pack, anoints the man’s eyes and tells him to wash in the pool of Siloam, his sight restored. Such miracles in John’s gospel are referred to as signs: signs of God’s presence in the world. And as so often with the signs that Jesus performs, this is a point of revelation, signalling Jesus’ true identity as Son of God. It is also a point of departure: a moment of dissent, of choice, of decision – a crisis moment.
Jesus has performed this sign of restoring a man’s sight on the Sabbath day, so immediately the religious leaders are affronted, since one of the commandments – to keep holy the Sabbath day – has been breached. In their determination to discredit Jesus they question the man born blind and his parents, even suggesting that the whole thing is a hoax – the man wasn’t blind at all, it’s all a confidence trick. Even under duress, and having been driven out by the authorities, the formerly blind man continues to assert the truth of what Jesus has done and the transformation that has occurred in his life. Jesus, indeed, returns to the blind man at the end of the story to hear his version of events. “Jesus heard that they had driven the cured man out and when he found him, he said: ‘Do you believe in the Son of Man?’ He answered him: ‘And who is he sir? Tell me so I may believe in him.’ Jesus said to him: ‘You have seen him and the one speaking with you is he.’ He said: ‘Lord, I believe’.”
Seeing and believing is one of the persistent themes of the Gospel of John, and you will remember that, in John’s account of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances, the disciples have to be cured of their blindness, they have to see what has long been under their noses but they have been blind to. Mary Magdalene in the garden of the resurrection finds the tomb empty, the body of Jesus gone, with only the gardener for comfort. Until the gardener speaks her name and she recognises the risen Lord. The disciples are fishing on the lake; they see a stranger who tells them to fish again despite their failure previously to make a catch. Only then do they recognise the stranger on the shore. And Thomas – he has to see the wounds of the risen Christ in order to believe that this is not some almighty confidence trick. All of them have to experience the resurrection for themselves. They have to recognise Jesus as both their human friend and brother, and as their Lord and their God – which is why Jesus can pass through locked doors to be with them, and also asks for something to eat, and cooks breakfast for them. The risen Lord of John’s gospel is recognised – beyond their normal sight – as both God and man, bringing together in his scarred body both heaven and earth.
But in this gospel something else has changed, as well as the disciples’ perception. There is a new tempo, a new dynamic, a new imperative. When Jesus on the seashore said to the disciples: “Come and have breakfast”, he didn’t intend to have a cosy chat and talk over old times. He was shaping the future and was about to place that future into the hands of this flawed, frail and fallible group of men and women. John doesn’t mention the church in his gospel but that is what he is convening in the days after his resurrection. He gives his disciples enough to open their eyes and reconstitute their faith. Thomas has to see the wounds but Mary is forbidden to touch the risen Christ lest she should cling to the past. Peter needs to hear words of love and forgiveness. Others need to have their skills as fishermen honed and affirmed for they will fish for men. And once his team has been equipped and drawn together as a renewed and resurrected group, he gives them a mission. Jesus remembered the words of the blind man he cured: “Tell me who this Son of Man is, so that I may believe in him”. Men and women down the ages cannot believe in Jesus and the transforming presence of God unless there is someone to tell them. The first tellers of the story of the risen Lord is this motley group of deniers, betrayers and false friends. To one he says: “Go and tell my disciples”, to others he says: “Come and have breakfast” and “Bring the catch that you have made”. To Peter he says: “Feed my sheep and follow me”. And in that upper room on the day of the Resurrection, Jesus appears to them all (except Thomas) and says: “Peace be with you”. He breathes on them the breath of the Holy Spirit (he doesn’t follow Luke and wait fifty days for Pentecost – John is far too impatient). And he gives them their mandate and their mission: “Receive the Holy Spirit: forgive sins and retain sins: free people from their sins or stand beside them in their predicaments.”
Seeing and believing is one of the persistent themes of John’s Gospel: it involves seeing what is there but is so often unrecognised or misunderstood by our self-absorbed imaginations. It involves seeing ourselves as we truly are – as self-absorbed, wayward, frail and fallible – and that will be a painful process of self recognition. But the pain is worth it for the joy of being forgiven, reconvened as God’s sons and daughters, and given a part in his purposes for the world.
The risen Lord now as then is shaping the future: and is about to place the future into our hands. Into the hands of a flawed, frail and fallible group of men and women. We are the group, along with countless others, who are called by the risen Lord to come and have breakfast and then to go. Go and tell the story, live the new life, transform lives around you by your love. And if you want inspiration in story-telling, take the pictures that children have painted as they told the story last Good Friday, and find the colour that will convince our sceptical generation who have not seen, that the risen Christ is indeed their Lord and their God.