Some Greeks…came to Philip…and said to him, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’
That phrase, ‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’ is written around many a pulpit. In some pulpits the crucifix faces the preacher as a reminder to present the Cross and not their own thinking.
Here in St John’s our central feature is the crucifix above the altar.
Carving a figure of Jesus to present to people is the preacher’s labour of love and not least in Passiontide.
It is as if the literal veiling of the Cross calls urgent attention to the central mystery of the faith.
Today’s Old Testament reading from Jeremiah Chapter 31 speaks of a promised new covenant when instead of commandments written on stone God will write his law on human hearts by the gift of the Spirit. This covenant is founded on the blood of Christ, This is my blood of the new covenant which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins we hear daily at the altar.
The second reading from Hebrews Chapter 5 speaks of God’s choice of his Son to take high priesthood on behalf of humanity so as to be able to become the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. That choice is proved, according to the author of Hebrews, by Christ’s own evident reluctance shown in the Garden of Gethsemane. In the days of his flesh, Jesus offered up prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. Our Lord did not want honour for himself but made submission to his Father, dedicating his whole life and humanity unreservedly to the will of God.
That renunciation of will in Gethsemane is summarised in the Gospel passage from St John Chapter 12 ‘Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—“Father, save me from this hour”? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. Father, glorify your name.’
Self-offering that wins glory is built into the life of God himself.
The great French priest scientist Teilhard de Chardin speaks of how that principle applies to our best development as the human race: To allow God, when it so pleases him, to grow within us, and, by death, to substitute himself for us: that is now our duty; that, if one may use the word, is our opportunity; and that is the only attitude that can finally bring salvation.
Teilhard is struck by the liturgical repetition in Passiontide of the refrain from Philippians ‘Christus factus est’ – Christ was obedient unto death. Commenting on this refrain he writes: That is obviously the exact and profound significance of the cross: obedience, submission to the law of life – and to accept everything, in a spirit of love, including death, there you have the essence of Christianity.
Our Lord lived to die a death for the life of the world. We too are called as Christians to lose our lives, all that is governed by wrong self-interest and self-concern, so that his life may flow in us to bring glory to God.
‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’
Our best response to that request happens many a time unwittingly as people see us being carried along by the Lord as we carry something of a cup of sufferings, cheerfully and obediently, with faith in Jesus who is become the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him.
Passiontide reminds us in this pandemic that no sorrow on earth need be wasted.
By being taken up into the mystery of Christ’s love, in his passion and in the eucharist, there is transformation. This comes as we gain grace to accept with serenity the things that can’t be changed or courage to change the things that should be changed in our lives. To accept everything, in a spirit of love, including death, there you have the essence of Christianity.
On account of the pandemic there are no Chalice bearers at the eucharist. In a profound sense we are they. In this harsh season we carry the cup of hardship with as good cheer as we can muster through the grace of God. This is a powerful witness. As another French writer, Charles Peguy, wrote: ‘A Christian is a sad man saved from despair by the Cross of Christ’. We are sad at what we are carrying, so many deaths, so much bereavement, frustration, depression, loneliness, anxiety and confusion. As Chalice bearers we intercede for others to be saved from despair and brought with us to the altar of God. That altar is a place of joy and a place of sadness just as surely as our risen Lord went through his passion. In the coming fortnight we have an opportunity to see ourselves on that journey with him as we prayerfully carry the hurts of Burgess Hill and its surrounds in the chalice of intercessory prayer.
‘Sir, we wish to see Jesus.’
I end with Teilhard’s great meditation on the hands of our Saviour:
Into your hands I commend my spirit. To the hands that broke and gave life to the bread, that blessed and caressed, and were pierced – to the hands that are as our hands, of which we can never say what they will do with the objects they hold, whether shatter them or care for them, but whose whims, we may be sure, are full of kindness and will never do more than hold us in a jealous grasp – to the kindly and mighty hands that reach down to the very marrow of the soul – that mould and create – to the hands through which so great a love is transmitted – it is to these that it is good to surrender our soul.
We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.
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