Are we true?

 4/5/25                                St Peter’s                             Easter 2

Acts 9:1-6                                                         John 2:12-19

The sermon this morning is the 2nd in the series on the bible - last week Sam’s theme was “Can we trust Scripture?

We can. And why? Because at the heart of our trust in scripture is our trust in Jesus - he who is the Word made flesh.

The theme for today’s sermon is ‘The bible as an alternative story’ and to illustrate that we’ll look at the lives of Saul/Paul and Peter and how their lives were give new direction by a meeting with Jesus. Our readings both happen after the resurrection and I think it’s important to remember that the resurrected Jesus is no less fully human in these appearances than he was before the crucifixion 

What first came to mind I began preparing for today was something by Mark Oakley the current Dean of Southwark. He wrote, ‘We spend a lot of time asking whether the Bible is true, and miss the fact that the biblical texts are often asking us, 'Are you true?' This is the real question that readers of the Bible should face…'

Which is very close to something Jeremiah said, ‘The heart is deceitful above all things  and beyond cure.
 Who can understand it?’

We will have our own views about the sort of people we are - but scripture suggests that the story we tell ourselves about our own lives is likely to be unreliable. Fortunately the bible is a corrective.

To begin with Paul. The first time we hear of him is earlier in the book of Acts at the martyrdom of St. Stephen. 

He’s there when Stephen is dragged out of the city to be stoned ‘Meanwhile, the witnesses laid their coats at the feet of a young man named Saul.’. And Saul approved  of their killing him.(Acts 7:58 - 8:1) 

He gets worse - from today’s reading, ‘Meanwhile, Saul was still breathing out murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples. He went to the high priest and asked him for letters to the synagogues in Damascus, so that if he found any there who belonged to the Way, whether men or women, he might take them as prisoners to Jerusalem.

What sort of a person was Saul? Aggressive, convinced he was right, think of the Spanish Inquisition 

How would we or he expect his story to continue? Probably more of the same till nothing remained of this awkward group of disciples and the memory of this Jesus they kept banging on about.

But then this Jesus meets him on the road to Damascus and Paul is turned inside out. ‘Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me? Saul is set on attacking people Jesus knew and loves. The seed of the church - the community of worship and love that Jesus came to plant is beginning to grow and Saul wants to pull it out by the roots.   

Peter’s story was different - knowing who Jesus was wasn’t his problem - Jesus had been the centre of Peter’s life since they met . Peter’s problem was that he Peter turned out not to be the person he had always believed himself to be - it turned out he wasn’t as brave, outspoken, and impossible to intimidate as he’d thought. He had promised Jesus he would never deny him but a few hour later he’d done it not once, not twice but three times. Peter had wept bitterly, but he’d still abandoned his friend. If you’d asked him what his future held it wouldn’t have been promising - he’d go back to the fishing and let the shame eat away at him. Did the resurrection change anything for him? What would Jesus think of a person who had failed him so badly. 

But Jesus meets him at the breakfast and puts him back on track. ‘Simon Peter, son of John, do you love me? Jesus addresses Simon’s failure head on. 

In our readings we have two people walking towards a future which is unhappy, misguided and wasteful until Jesus gives them both a new story 

The failings of Peter and Paul could have been catastrophic and were worked out in an uncomfortably public arena. 

We are nor Peter or Paul - our missteps are likely to be less catastrophic, certainly less significant for the future of the church -  but they still matter - they affect us and they affect what we can offer the work of Christ in the church. And though we are not Peter or Paul the mistakes they made are not likely to be unfamiliar to us.

  

Paul was certain that there was a total overlap between his ideas and God’s. He was convinced he was in the right until Jesus met him. We may not be as strident as Paul but we can find ourselves thinking that God will always endorse our views because they are so utterly reasonable and so untouched by our personal preferences.

Peter was in a bleak place - he loves Jesus, he rejoices in the resurrection, but he knows he has failed him. They used to be so close, but how can it be like that again - he has failed Jesus and knows the corrosion of shame and guilt. We may know something of this too.   

Interestingly Jesus’s  approach to Peter and Paul was same - he asked them a question - how easy it would have been for Jesus, the fully human Son of God to feel bitter about these two - Paul who wants to destroy every thing that Jesus went to the cross to achieve, Peter who chickened out when Jesus most needed a friend. Jesus had every reason to want to punish Peter and Paul - but he isn’t interested in that. The questions he asks are not those of the counsel for the prosecution, they are not demeaning, humiliating, or condemnatory - he wanted them to see where they had gone wrong  so they could change.

What he gave them, what introduced them to their alternative story was mercy.

Paul the bloodthirsty zealot received mercy; Peter the close friend of who had denied him received mercy; so both of them were able to enter a new story. Paul will be the great teacher of the church revealing the truths he was on the road to Damascus to stamp out. Peter, who failed Jesus is made the shepherd of his sheep.  The mercy, the forgiveness they received opened them up to the new story Jesus had for them

In our day by day walk with Jesus we too get things wrong, but we too have access to his mercy. We don’t need to pretend that we are infallible.

How does Jesus ask us questions? If the bible asks us are we true - how does it do that

                        

Very helpfully our new interim bishop sent a letter out to the diocese this week - she was welcomed at the Cathedral yesterday afternoon - and in it she tells us how to open ourselves up to a questioning, merciful  God who is seeking to help us to the story that is best for us. 

How can we live out our faith? How can we get back on track when we misstep?

Over to the bishop.. 

As we begin our walk together in faith, I want to encourage us to start as we mean to go on.  I’ve found it really helpful to have a passage of Scripture to ‘dwell’ in each year and I would like to suggest that until the end of the year we take the following verses as words for us to reflect on, allowing God to speak to, and encourage us.

‘As God’s chosen ones, holy and beloved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience. Bear with one another and, if anyone has a complaint against another, forgive each other; just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly; teach and admonish one another in all wisdom; and with gratitude in your hearts sing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.’ Colossians 3:12-17 (NRSV)

 29th December 2024               St Peter’s               Luke 2:8-19                        

In our imagination let’s go back 2024 years and three days.

So it’s the morning of Boxing Day and Joseph has just woken up. There’s a blank moment when he’s still more asleep than awake, but then , as he lies there, yesterday begins to swim back into his memory. 

The baby’s arrived  - Jesus is here now - he looks over at the manger and he’s asleep - sigh of relief; he looks at Mary and she’s asleep as well. Double sigh of relief.

His memory carries on working. There is something about shepherds, and about celebrating with shepherds. 

He knew Jesus was special and Mary obviously did, but how did the shepherds know? There  was something about angels as well. What else? He’d found a midwife too late for the birth but he was just glad that there was someone for Mary to talk to who knew what they were talking about.

It had taken Mary a while to drop off - and then Jesus had woken up a couple of times - if the birth was a shock for Mary and Joseph it can’t have been a picnic for Jesus either - so it’s reasonable that He was a bit restless. 

A more recent memory comes back - she’s gone back to sleep now but Mary nudged him five minutes ago because she wanted a cup of tea -  which depending on how far the wise men had travelled might have been just about possible.

Joseph gets up and gets on with it whilst thinking about what’s happened and how special it is and how utterly unlike anything that’s ever happened before it is 

..but then the midwife comes back and shatters his illusions. Apparently most of what happened - in fact almost all the things that struck him whilst they were happening - the time it took, the pain of it, the work of it, his spare partness whilst it was going on - the joy of it when it had happened  the whole astonishment of it - turn out not to have been special at all extraordinary yes but they’ve been ordinary as well.

Further - all the things that the midwife says they need to do to look after Jesus aren’t because he’s a special baby but because he’s an ordinary one. In fact, the midwife doesn’t see anything unusual about him at all. When she’s gone Joseph wonders where did the specialness of Jesus birth’ end and the ordinariness begin - he can’t tell but perhaps he decides - it doesn’t matter.

What can we learn from a God who chooses to live a life that has so much in common with everyone else’s?

Jesus is a God not just for the crises or the great joys - he’s there for the every day as well. Jesus didn’t cheat - there for the shepherds, angels and wise men and then skipping onto adulthood - he went through it all - crawling, toddling, those difficult teenage years when his parents were particularly stupid - Jesus lived through it at the same rate as the rest of us - which means that though he understands the particularly good and the particularly bad he doesn’t specialise in them. He cares about us when we are flat and when we are exuberant. Which means that we can keep a running conversation going with Him about whatever is uppermost in our mind - good or bad, vital or trivial

God born into the ordinary understands the ordinary.

And then -  something the wonder of which we will never exhaust - there is no way that Jesus could have shown His dedication to us, His commitment to us , His love for us more thoroughly than this. He doesn’t come to us as an outside expert - experts don’t come more inside than he did. He came, God with us, to be so utterly with us, to sink himself into our situation so completely that to the midwife, to Joseph and Mary, to those around he seemed like any other one day old, one week old, one month old baby. This is the love of a Creator for His creation, for us taken absolutely as far as it can go and we here now, whether in crisis or in ordinary, can bask in that love and be touched by it.           

Joseph, and eventually Mary and Jesus, wake up on the day after Christmas Day and get on with all the things they have to do. To the observer their plans for the day wouldn’t have seemed particularly ambitious. But just because something is ordinary it doesn’t mean God isn’t there.  

A bruising news week

 6/10/24                                 St Peter’s                         Trinity 19

Hebrews 1:1-4                                                      Mark 10:13-16

A bruising news week. - War spreading, floods, drought and famine underlining climate change, the anniversary tomorrow of the horrors of the Hamas attack on Israel. In the face of all this it might seem to some that our faith and worship are simple escapism. 

But it is not so. It is true that church is a place where we should be able to find consolation, but this consolation is not fraudulent, not wishful thinking; it is real because God walked this earth as one of us, human, incarnate and he came not as a sightseer but to offer us a different way of living - to give hope in the present and then to join beyond now to the kingdom of God. When we come to worship it is because our good God calls us to follow him and so help create his kingdom of peace and reconciliation.

It is an act of faith because a world that gives us such terrible headlines also asks us questions to which we cannot give a full answer.

In one of his sermons Austin Farrer - a philosopher friend of  C. S. Lewis - said ‘...we do not comprehend the world, and we are not going to. It is, and it remains for us, a confused mystery of bright and dark. God does not give us explanations; He gives us a Son.’ 

Which is a good place to start looking at our readings.

Part of clergy training is to be exposed to an argumentative hubbub of saints, theologians  and teachers - which of them can you trust? A couple of clergy friends developed a question to decide whether a particular approach rang true for them ‘Does St. Augustine, Martin Luther or the Venerable Bede - whoever they had been given to read - strike us as the sort of person we would we be happy to use as a baby sitter for the kids?’ Which has always struck me as a pretty insightful rule of thumb.

In our gospel Jesus passes the babysitter test with flying colours. Not only were parents actively bringing their children to him, but when the disciples spoke sternly to them order to discourage them Jesus was indignant - and scooped the nearest child up. The disciples must have thought that Jesus would have no time for women and children. They were wrong.

Lets add in the Hebrews reading. Here the writer says, ‘The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact imprint of his very being.’  Which means at the very least that when we see Jesus we see what God is really like. And it turns out in the gospel that what our God is really like is someone who has more time for children than for standing on his dignity

If we think of God as distant from us, judgmental, trying to catch us out, we get him wrong. He has an open door. Jesus regularly objects when people set themselves up as God’s gatekeepers. The disciples were putting a barrier between Jesus and the parents and children trying to see him. He would have none of it. It was the same when they tried to shoo away the irritating man who was lame, or the crooked tax collector who wanted to change his life, or the crowd who had come out to hear him and were hungry, or the lepers or the lonely or the bereaved. Jesus went to places and spoke to people who were beyond the pale. He went to the places and people we might abandon - but God won’t.  

Jesus is the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being - do we want to know what God is like? Look at Jesus. Look at Jesus teaching, Look at him suffering, look at him with the young children, look at him indignant with the disciples - In all of these he is the exact imprint of the father. Approachable, loving, forgiving, merciful - when you look at Jesus you see the grace of God wearing a recognisably human face - grace, mercy, peace are not abstract qualities - they are what Jesus looks like.

Look at the cross we see Jesus, we see his suffering but we see the Father’s suffering too. If we think of a God who is far off, who is living cosseted in heaven, whilst Jesus decides to take us up as his own particular project - we are very wrong. The Father and the Son are one.

If we think that on the cross Jesus bought off an angry, grudging vengeful father we are quite mistaken. The father and the son are one. The way Jesus walked was the only way they could see to bring change to the world.

Our world does not look like the kingdom of God; indeed it looks antagonistic to it.  Jesus so loved us that he came to a world that would never by itself see things the way he does in order to show us a better way to live. Despite everything we do to each other, despite the way we treat his creation  he loved us enough to die for us.

He welcomes us and asks us to join him as people of the kingdom who will represent his way of living in a world predisposed to selfishness, greed and violence. This is why our worship is not escapism  - we can’t change everything but we can affect where we are - we can show something of the love of God to our neighbours. He doesn’t promise us that it will be plain sailing but he does promise to walk with us.

Austin Farrer said that God does not give us explanations of how the world is rather he sent us a son. St Anselm said ‘I believe in order that I understand’ that is if we believe the Son - which means following him - we will be lead into a greater understanding of how God’s world works best. 

 

When people met Jesus they met God and they found him approachable, welcoming, true, compassionate joyful  and just - being utterly God meant that he could be utterly human - this is who we come to at communion. It is also the way of life of his kingdom that we are called to take on as we leave our worship and go outside. If we do we can help change the world - or at least our little bit of it.

Home is where the heart is - John 6:51-58

18/8/18                                 St Peter’s                         Trinity 12

Ephesians 5:15-20                                                   John 6:51-58

In the first verse of our gospel reading Jesus says, ‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven. Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever; and the bread that I will give for the life of the world is my flesh.’

This verse is about Holy Communion - or more accurately h/c is about this verse. What the service does is point us to truths about Jesus and why he came. Now - and I’m speaking for myself here - in something we do each week can become routine but however familiar the eucharist seems there are depths to it that we will never plumb. So this sermon, for me as much as anyone else is a reminder.   

But first a short excursion

30 odd years ago - Hilary and I went out for a meal to a restaurant in Selly Oak - Birmingham. It was South American, probably Chilean, perhaps called Los Andes - whatever - a friend who knew about these things said it had been set up by an emigre family because the regime had made  Chile unsafe for them, so they had come to make their home in this far country.

It felt like a family business - the staff and the other customers all knew each other, it was a focal point for the other exiles who had ended up in Birmingham - somewhere they could come to eat which reminded them of home. The grown ups talked and ate, the children messed around, had their own conversations, dived under the table to play round the legs of grown ups, somebody had a guitar and played and sang  - it was as close to home as they could get in a far country. A different culture from ours, but our meal was different because of what their meal meant to them.

Back from Selly Oak to the sermon. 700 years ago a German theologian wrote ‘God is at home. We are in the far country’  ie where God is is our true home and we are not there - we live in a far country 

What we have in common with those Chileans is that we too are in exile and our family meal to remind us of home is the eucharist.

So three nudges to our thinking  - past, present and future though not in that order.  

 

a) The past - The Chileans were remembering their homeland - the country that nourished them, that gave them life -  a place where people talked the same language, where they’d grown up, where there ideas of what really mattered were formed. The food the songs the atmosphere all revived those memories. 

How does this reminder of having been nourished work in our communion service?

Look at our gospel, Jesus reminds his hearers that God gave Manna in the wilderness, this chapter starts with the feeding of the 5000. 

  Jesus says ‘I am the living bread that came down from heaven.’ 

This is a long time ago, but God has nourished us too. We don’t have the same memories of our true homeland (the place where God is)  as the Chileans but we can sometimes get hints of it.

We bear the image of God so there are some things stamped into us that speak of him - we can ignore them, distort them but even so we have been created with a capacity for the eternal and sometimes we come into contact with it - it will be different for each of us  - God has infinite variety - but think of the times when we realise that more is going on in life than we can explain in purely human terms.

At a birth, at a death sometimes we feel the touch of the transcendent - and feel more fully human because of it - the same can be true at less obviously significant times - a piece of music, a landscape, a meal with friends - a sense of something being fitting, a sense of receiving a grace beyond our understanding. We may not be residents of heaven yet but we get enough of a glimpse of it to know that it’s our true homeland.

There is a bitter edge to this. The Chileans had to leave their home so they could be safe. For us the far country we find ourselves in is - to borrow a government phrase - a hostile environment for living in the way that God intended us to, we can’t blame others we have helped create it through negligence, through weakness through our own deliberate fault. 

It is because we needed rescue that Jesus the living bread left the place where he was at home to join us in the far country. He loved us enough, wanted our company enough to choose to share our exile. 

b) The next nudge to our thinking is about the future, about returning home. For the Chileans this would have been an ever present but uncertain hope. If the government changed then some of them  might have gone back home, for others even a change of regime wouldn’t have helped, and others again might have been too long away, might have made too many connections in this far country to think of leaving, might have ended up not quite at home wherever they were.

We have a better hope - the next phrase in the opening verse of our gospel reading is ‘Whoever eats of this bread will live for ever’.

Currently we get by on hints of what our true homeland is like - we see through a glass darkly - but it will not always be so - the eucharist is the foreshadowing of the great heavenly feast - when we try and imagine something utterly beyond our ken we have to rely on familiar images - like feast - knowing that they can’t be utterly  accurate but trusting that God’s reality is better than our imagining - just as we know that the love we celebrate at the Communion table is more than we can properly understand. There’s a passage from St Augustine that I’ve almost certainly quoted before that I find helps to put flesh on the bones of my hope. 

‘Let us sing alleluia here on earth, while we still live in anxiety , so that we may sing it one day in heaven in full security... We shall have no enemies in heaven, we shall never lose a friend. God’s praises are sung both here and there, but here they are sung in anxiety there in security; here they are sung by those destined to die; there by those destined to live forever; here they are sung in hope , there in hope’s fulfillment; here, they are sung by wayfarers; there, by those living in their own country. So then let us sing now, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure, but in order to lighten our labours. You should sing as wayfarers do - sing, but continue your journey ...sing then, but keep going.’

c) how do we live now in the light of our communion service? At the end of their meal those Chileans went out better able to be their Chilean selves in because they had had a true taste of home. For them Los Andes had become a place where Chile happened - and to a lesser extent for us too - so that more than 30 years I’ve forgotten the food, even how many of us were in our party but I still remember the atmosphere. 

The Eucharist should be a place where God happens - it should give us a taste of our true homeland so we will go out into the hostile environment  accompanied by Jesus better equipped to live well.

But how? God is not at our beck and call to give us a religious experience as and when we want. What can we do so that the eucharist will have the true flavour of our heavenly home?

This far country created through negligence, weakness and our own deliberate fault, is a hostile environment for the kingdom of God - is a place where different values obtain - welcome is weakness, mercy is folly - the attributes held up as virtues - charity begins at home, you have to look after number one, you can measure the value of someone’s life by the money they’ve made - are not those of the kingdom of God. 

In sending his son the Father makes it clear that he is not content to leave our world as the far country, he wants it to bear the stamp of his presence  And Jesus calls us to help in his work. How should we live?

 Sam quoted Paul’s list of the fruit of the Spirit last week - it does no harm to hear it again  the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things.

So we have a pattern, we have resources - the eucharist comes to us like a food parcel from home - reminding us of what matters and equipping us to take part in his work. We have the Spirit of God to accompany us

Someone once said ‘Man is broken , He lives by mending, The grace of God is the glue.’ The way we live, the way we meet others can be 

part of the mending

What was going on in the restaurant was in its way God’s mending. A homesick people were given a true taste of their home country so that at the end of the evening they would go home that little bit more their proper selves - and this is what the eucharist should do. This should be a place where God happens.

For Christians, to share in the Eucharist, the Holy Communion, means to live as people who know that they are always guests - that they have been welcomed, and that they are wanted. It is, perhaps, the most simple thing we can say about Holy Communion, yet it is still supremely worth saying. In Holy Communion, Jesus Christ tells us that He wants our company.

One final thought - the overwhelming thing I took from that meal at Los Andes was that, in spite of the difficulties of living in a far country,  there was an exuberance to their living - and that’s very attractive.

After the Emmaus road

 14/4/24                                St Peter’s                             Easter 3

Acts 3:12-19                                                         Luke 24:36-48

    

When I looked at the gospel passage what struck me most was how determined Jesus was to make it crystal clear that the resurrection is a physical, bodily event,  Look at my hands and my feet. It is I myself! Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have.” 

But why- there he is with them - they can see him - what’s the problem? 

But put yourself in their place

About a week ago they had followed Jesus  as he rode into Jerusalem on a donkey. They hadn’t been sure what to expect  but they had been met by a cheering crowd - it had been a triumph. 

But just few days later everything fell apart in the worst possible way-Jesus - the focus of their life for the last two or three years was betrayed by a friend then brutally executed after  a mockery of a trial. 

The disciples were left with grief, shame, and despair for the loss of what might have been.

Our reading takes place three days after the crucifixion. When they woke that morning they hadn’t begun to come to terms with what the death of Jesus might mean for them. How could they remake their world? What was left for them.

But our reading isn’t about the morning but the evening, and it’s  the evening of the day of resurrection and into that terror and confusion an impossible hope is beginning to insinuate itself. 

Stories are beginning to accumulate - Mary and the other women who went to the tomb at dawn say Jesus met them there, Simon and John hurried after them and they met him too- the disciples are still digesting this when the Cleopasses arrive back from Emmaus.

and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, ‘The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!’ Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Jesus is making himself known to people and then disappearing

Still frightening, still confusing but somehow, hope has begun to intrude. 

While they were still talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and frightened, thinking they saw a ghost

But Jesus is not a ghost. A ghost is a dead person and Jesus is not a dead person, and that is what he spends this time demonstrating to them. Death has not tamed, has not captured the God of life. God does not give death the last word. Jesus is not an apparition, he is flesh and blood, recognisably the person with whom they shared the last three years; whatever has happened to Jesus he is still the same Jesus they knew.

Jesus shows them the nature of resurrection life and then opens their minds to understand the scriptures - to show that what they see is not an aberration - it isn’t God making the best of  an awful mistake - instead this is how God’s forgiveness is opened to us. The resurrected Jesus is both the guarantee and demonstration of God’s reconciling plan.

But first he has to deal with infinite human capacity to try and domesticate God, we feel more secure with  laws than grace, with guarantees than trust, and so try to fit him into a framework we can understand ‘they thought that they were seeing a ghost’ - they had heard stories about ghosts -perhaps they were true after all -

Jesus won’t have any of it -‘look at the scars, touch me, give me some fish’  

Whatever they’d heard about ghosts didn’t include being invited to prod them or seeing them deal with that bit of fish that Andrew had caught and Matthew had cooked but that nobody in the end had felt like eating. 

None of this was what they expected ghosts to do, on the other hand they had seen Jesus eat fish lots of times. The Jesus who has joined them is solid enough to have tweaked James’s nose if he’d wanted to.

Jesus standing among them in the fulness of resurrection does not  conform to our understanding of death - somehow he is much more playful than we expect.

In a few minutes we’ll say  ‘On the third day Jesus rose again in accordance with the Scriptures;’ and at the very end of the creed when we talk about our future ‘We look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.’ 

This resurrection, which is our our hope because this is our resurrection too,  is not tame - it’s inconvenient because it doesn’t sit well with the Spirit of the age - which often tries to deny death’s realities - it’s monstrous, because it goes beyond our understanding, taking us into areas where we proceed by faith and not by sight -  it’s unnerving because we know the strength of our faith wobbles, we continually fall short of our aspirations let alone Jesus’s but our resurrection hope has been demonstrated by the most trustworthy pioneer that we could have, who knows us and our frailties better than we know ourselves.

People have produced flimsy alternatives to resurrection hope but they don’t ring true.. 

A few years ago Disney made a film - Coco - based around the Mexican Day of the Dead. The film’s central conceit is that the dead have a kind of limbo life so long as they are remembered by those who love them. 

Some try ignoring death Woody Allen said ‘“I don't want to achieve immortality through my work; I want to achieve immortality through not dying. I don't want to live on in the hearts of my countrymen; I want to live on in my apartment.” 

Both these ideas fall well short of what Jesus did for us by his life, death, resurrection and ascension.

The resurrection hope - it isn’t comfortable, and it doesn’t feel safe because just as for Jesus there was no way to his resurrection  except through dying,  so too that is true for us. 

What we are offered in Christ isn’t an escape from death - bad luck Woody Allen - rather it is the denial that death has the last word. And after all that is how Jesus came to his resurrection - through the death he genuinely died.

In “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ Mr Beaver talks about Aslan  - Safe?” said Mr Beaver ..."Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe. But he's good.’We are being asked to put our trust not on a safe bet but in the son of God, who is good and true. 

Resurrection is fulfilled on the other side of the grave but it begins now. It is the good news at the heart of the kingdom of God - though things may be bleak now they will be set right. How do we live in that hope? It sounds very simple, but takes every part of us - Love God, with all your heart mind and strength, love your neighbour as yourself, do unto others as you would have them do to you - but we are accompanied by the risen Jesus.

Listen to St Augustine

‘Let us sing alleluia here on earth, while we still live in anxiety , so that we may sing it one day in heaven in full security... We shall have no enemies in heaven, we shall never lose a friend. 

God’s praises are sung both here and there, but here they are sung in anxiety there in security; here they are sung by those destined to die; there by those destined to live forever; here they are sung in hope , there in hope’s fulfilment; 

here, they are sung by wayfarers; there, by those living in their own country. 

So then let us sing now, not in order to enjoy a life of leisure, but in order to lighten our labours. You should sing as wayfarers do - sing, but continue your journey ...sing then, but keep going.’