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Passion
Sermon preached by Clephane Hume at Holy Communion on 6 April 2003, Passion Sunday
Jeremiah 31.31-34 ; Hebrews 5.5-10 ; John 12.20-33
I lay under the hail of bombs that rained down on my home town, annihilating people in a storm of fire. In what seemed like a miracle, I lived, and I still don't know today why I am not dead too, like my companions.
In my hell I didn't ask, why does God let this happen? My question was, my God where are you?
Where is God? Is he far away from us - an absentee God in his own heaven? Or is he a sufferer among the sufferers? The first question presupposes an apathetic God. The second is looking for a God who suffers with us.
So wrote Jurgen Moltmann, looking back to his experience of the blitz in Hamburg, in 1943, in a chapter entitled the Passion of Christ and the pain of God.
Moltmann was writing after the (1990s) Gulf War and as we draw nearer to Easter this year, his words ring all too true. The expressions of terror in the faces of the little children being taken to safety depict unmistakably the human cost of the war in Iraq. A double terror after the years of deprivation and fear under a brutal regime.
But even in the midst of that, God is there, for God is always with us, even if we are not aware of the fact. And it is possible to know that God is there, even if we do not feel that we are in touch with him. A sense of isolation and abandonment may remain - and that is how we can in some way experience the Passion.
In the one modern prayer book I possess that still uses the title Passion Sunday, this is the sentence for the day, which our companion Diocese of Dunedin will be using-
'Is it nothing to you, all you who pass by? Look and see if there is any sorrow like my sorrow.' (Lamentations 1)
Over a period of years, we have looked at, watched and seen, what is happening in the Middle East and Iraq, and now, in a catch 22 situation, our politicians have taken action, but at this stage it is difficult to see what, when or where the end will be.
Is there any sorrow like my sorrow? Even if our own experience may allow us to empathise with others, the fact remains that the experience of loss is specific to the individual. The anguish in that sentence echoes the feelings of people in many different situations. As Jesus predicted his death, he must have felt similarly alone in his distress. We can't predict the nature of our death in the way that Jesus does, though some people with deteriorating illnesses may have an idea of how their life may end. Some will regard the unavoidable outcome with equanimity and even see death as a friend. Others will be angry or frightened.
In our gospel, we heard Jesus wrestling with his fears. 'Now my heart is troubled and what shall I say?' And as in Gethsemane, he prayed to the one who could save him. 'Father save me from this hour.' His prayer was not answered in terms of his most immediate wishes - but the comprehension of the inevitable is with him. No, this is why 'I came to this hour. This is how it will be for me'. The reality of the future and the cross. The obedience of the Son to his father's command.
In the face of lack of insight in those around, who didn't really understand what he was telling them, how lonely that must have been. And how terrible for God, to be confronted with the prospect of the loss of his son. The media don't at present spare us that reality either. The private anguish of earlier generations is now in the public domain, and perhaps that too brings home to us the experience of the Passion.
Christ's suffering reminds us of his humanity and therefore his understanding of our suffering, and the pain experienced by people around us, or who share the world we live in.
On a street I saw a naked child, hungry and shivering in the cold. I became angry and said to God, why do you allow this? Why don't you do something? God did not reply.
That night he said, quite suddenly, I certainly did something. I made you.
Those are the words of Anthony de Mello. I find them challenging.
God has made us. In his image. For what purpose?
What do we do in the face of present troubles - personal or global? Focussing on the global -
some will seek retribution. In the complexities of the links between Palestine and the Iraqis who saved Jenin, the turmoil in the Holy Land, where the building of the wall round the occupied territories brings back memories of Berlin, the divisions between Palestine and Israel seem even greater.
But there are positive signs, in contrast to the threat of suicide bombers. I discovered last week that among the group I was lecturing to was an Iraqi student - displaced since the early 1990s and brought up in refugee camps. Her aim in life is to go back to her native land as a therapist. Life experience is driving her to action to ameliorate the suffering. She is acting, and her God is not apathetic.
As an Easter people we know what follows death, but that is looking ahead too far in our church calendar. From today's readings we have the message that following the death of the wheat, the plant is reproduced through its many seeds. And there is a sign of hope. As all gardeners will know. This is the time of year for planting. The end of our Lenten discipline is in sight. We shall be moving from the desert to the time of regrowth.
Iraq is the location of the Garden of Eden, and the famous hanging gardens of Babylon. A far cry from the present devastation. Taking aid to Iraq is proving technically difficult for the forces - the ships are too large to enter the harbour. But the aid agencies are poised and ready.
However, even if the infrastructure is there for rebuilding, re-establishing a country where justice prevails will take time and our support will be needed for years to come.
After this service, some of you will be discussing 'living sustainably'. As Mitchell and Anderson wrote, 'bearing the griefs of others is not optional for the Christian'.
'Live simply, that others may simply live,' is not an original idea, but it is one we can try to observe in the remainder of Lent and thereafter.
To conclude, a prayer for those who suffer, dating from the First World War. O Lord God, our heavenly Father, regard, we beseech thee, with thy divine pity the pains of all thy children; and grant that the Passion of our Lord and his infinite love may make fruitful for good the tribulations of the innocent, the sufferings of the sick, and the sorrows of the bereaved; through him who suffered in our flesh and died for our sake, the same thy Son our Saviour Jesus Christ.
References\\ de Mello A, Quoted in Harthill R 1995, Were You There? SPCK. p70\\ Mitchell K and Anderson H 1983, All our Losses All Our Griefs, Westminster Press\\ Moltmann J 1994 Jesus Christ for today's world. SCM Press
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