Resurrection

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body.  Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?” But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. Mark 16:1-4 

“Don’t be afraid…Far more can be mended than you know” Unapologetic, Francis Spufford

In preparation for painting this work, Bavin read through the Gospel accounts of Holy Week several times as a prayerful meditation and found himself dwelling on the stillness and emptiness within the tomb moments after Jesus’ departure. ‘The absence was paramount: could I paint this space in a way that conveyed something of the magnitude of what had just taken place?’ Methodist modern art collection commentary

Stillness and emptiness

It’s been said that every new beginning results from an ending it didn’t think it would survive. I find that helpful when trying to orientate myself well in the midst of profound change, and one that may be of some magnitude. And Jesus’s resurrection, for his followers, and history, is an event of personal and global magnitude. Bavin’s picture invites me to ‘stay awhile’, to breathe in and out, as the old passes and the new makes its presence, shape, impact felt. Stillness and emptiness appear to be like midwives, fully expectant and engaged, waiting and welcoming. They facilitate and witness but also mark some passing and some new and fresh arrival.

Andrew Hook

Burial

It was Preparation Day (that is, the day before the Sabbath). So as evening approached,  Joseph of Arimathea, a prominent member of the Council, who was himself waiting for the kingdom of God, went boldly to Pilate and asked for Jesus’ body.  Pilate was surprised to hear that he was already dead. Summoning the centurion, he asked him if Jesus had already died.  When he learned from the centurion that it was so, he gave the body to Joseph. So Joseph bought some linen cloth, took down the body, wrapped it in the linen, and placed it in a tomb cut out of rock. Then he rolled a stone against the entrance of the tomb.  Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Joseph saw where he was laid. Mark 15:42-47

Now the seed is buried in the soil...(and) a great lump of rock sits there like a great full stop. Timothy Ratcliffe

All his (Graham Sutherland’s) works from the late 1940s are influenced by photographs he saw of the victims of the Nazi concentration camps. Methodist Modern Art collection commentary.

Leadenness and inertness

A broken, limp, discarded body can be one of the most pitiable, disrespectful of sights, as Sutherland observed. It signals an ending and that ending may have been brutal, unfair, painful. It’s over. Sheer inertness and leadenness amplify and echo this state of affairs. A deathly silence descends and practicalities poke reluctant movement. The body is a splendid and profound thing that carries the heart and mind of both the person and of God. Joseph boldly and respectfully acknowledges the remaining presence, and his memories, of Jesus.

Andrew Hook

Crucifixion

With a loud cry, Jesus breathed his last.

The curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood there in front of Jesus, saw how he died, he said, “Surely this man was the Son of God!” From the crucifixion account in Mark 15:20b-39

Whether in Korea or in Tierra del Fuego, in Alaska or in New Zealand, the cross on which Jesus had been tortured to death came to serve as the most globally recognised symbol of a god that there has ever been.” Dominion, Tom Holland

The artist (Craigie Aitchison) referred to the crucifixion as ‘the most horrific story I have ever heard’ and so there was no need to highlight the suffering: any depiction was enough to recall all its mystery, terror and wonder. Methodist modern art collection commentary

Mystery, terror and wonder

I look for words or images to be immersed in, to feel their texture inside me.  What moves Aitchison here is mystery, terror and wonder.  These three words are poignant and deserve some attention in themselves.  They perhaps lead to others, worth, I think, being simply laid out and quietly pondered*…

We have slaves drawn from every corner of the world in our households, practising strange customs and foreign cults, or none – and it is only by means of terror that we can hope to coerce such scum. Tacitus, quoted in Dominion by Tom Holland

This is love, going where we go, all of us, when we end. Yeshua is long past trying to show what lies beyond the limits of the world. He is traveling into limit himself, now, deeper and deeper, and the limits are tightening in on him, tightening down to a ribcage that won’t fill, tightening on him as consequences tighten on anyone. He’s going to the place our sorrows lead to at their worst: guilt’s dead-end, panic’s no-exit loop, despair’s junkyard where everything is busted.  There’s nothing to keep him company there but the light he’s always felt shining beneath things. Unapologetic, Francis Spufford.

That such a god, of all gods, might have had a son, and that this son, suffering the fate of a slave, might have been tortured to death on a cross, were claims, as stupefying, as they were, to most Jews, repellent. No more shocking a reversal of their most devoutly held assumptions could possibly have been imagined.  Not merely, blasphemy, it was madness. Dominion, Tom Holland

I read of the mockery and insults Jesus endured whilst pinned to the cross and read: “God’s healing purposes are not necessarily defeated by unbelief, blindness, and hard-heartedness”. The Gospel of John, a theological commentary, David Ford

Andrew Hook

*So too this video interview: Tom Holland: Why Jesus’ crucifixion changed the world

Christ in the garden

Christ in the Garden : Luke 22: 39-44

‘He was in such agony of spirit that his sweat fell to the ground like great drops of blood.’

This is a harrowing, arresting scene. The single brush stroke of Christ’s body - dark red and sweeping, evoking blood being poured out, a sacrifice being offered. The reddy-brown is contrasted with the vivid green surroundings. Jesus holds his head in prayer in blood red hands. 

‘Father, if you are willing, please take this cup of suffering away from me. Yet I want your will to be done, not mine.’ 

 Yet Jesus is not alone in this dark hour. While his followers sleep, divine strengthening comes via an ‘angel from heaven’, who appears and witnesses his anguish. Eventually Jesus has the strength to ‘stand up again’ and continue his path to the cross, and ultimately resurrection. 

Imagine yourself in the garden with Jesus at this moment, watching the scene unfold. Listen carefully to his prayer, his emotions. Witness his loyal love, his resolve. Be present to Jesus in this moment of need. 

QUESTIONS

What do you notice? How are you invited to show solidarity with him? 

‘Because of the joy awaiting him, he endured the cross, disregarding its shame.’ Hebrews 12:2 

Caroline Tyler

Washing feet

How to serve

John 13:3 - 5 Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under his power, and that he had come from God and was returning to God; so he got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel round his waist. After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped round him.

In a dusty, mucky environment, hygiene is essential for survival. So the washing of feet before reclining at a low table appears to be a sensible, reasonable thing to do, similar perhaps to the washing of hands before eating. Only, foot washing requires a little more effort and is, perhaps, a little less pleasant to do. I understand that in the AD30s in a Middle Eastern context of hospitality it would have been expected to be offered a foot wash before a meal, and that it would have been something that a lowly member of the household would facilitate. So, when Jesus, fully aware of his divine mission, gets up, un-robes himself, picks a towel and wash basin, and proceeds to do the servants’ job there is a huge significance in what he is doing: He is aware of his impending betrayal, suffering and death, he loves those around him; apart from their feet they are clean (though not all of them), and so he does the one thing needed to be hospitable. Where there is dirt he washes, where there is hunger he feeds, where there is sickness he heals, where there is sin he redeems. 

The way I imagine the situation when Jesus comes to wash Peter’s feet is that there is a fair amount of splashing going on as well as the conversation recorded in the bible. Perhaps the odd “Oy!” or whatever the Aramaic equivalent is. In the painting by Ghislaine Howard I see a natural, hospitable thing Jesus is doing, without pomp or ceremony. And Peter equally seems to be just himself.

In the explanation given later on, Jesus encourages us to similarly do the positive thing, when and where it is appropriate, without doublethink or hidden agenda or ego-drama.

Questions

How do you imagine the experience of Jesus washing your feet? What conversation do you imagine having with him?

How can we live out our divine mission and be servants to others (without doublethink, hidden agenda or ego-drama)?

Stephan Helfer

Misogyny and hypocrisy confronted

I was struck by Clive Hicks-Jenkins painting of a scene from John's gospel, 'Christ writes in the dust - the woman taken in adultery' as I have been for a long time by the brief, arresting narrative which inspired it.

The painting renders the scene in a contemporary way and invites, in doing so, a current perspective on the misogyny and abuse in the scene. The woman's humiliation and trauma are laid bare in her posture and the noose around her neck which for me functions literally and metaphorically: she was shackled before the rope was ever placed around her neck. It's hard, from a contemproary perspective, not to feel outrage at the blatant display of patriarchal privilege, violence and entitlement. And that's before we get to the hypocrisy.

The scene (in both the painting and the gospel account) is a gestural drama: the phalanx of swaggering, duplicitous men; the lone woman traumatised and shamed having been 'caught' and fearful for her life; Jesus, compassionate towards the woman but totally alert to the game which is being played. The men, certain that they are in the right and that 'justice' will be done.

In the painting, the figure of Jesus is contorted and bent double, mirroring the posture of the woman: empathy made manifest. The men already hold stones in their fists ready to execute summary justice.

The gestural nature of the scene

And as Jesus is asked the question intended to trap him, the gestural nature of the scene takes an extraordinary turn: Jesus, apparently ignoring their question, stoops and writes in the dirt. Faced by a group of angry, bullish men, he makes himself physically low before them - likely on a level with the woman - apparently ignoring them. This, of course, roils the men up to insist on the moral rectitude behind their question, firing it at him again. What he writes is to me, irrelevant and not worth the speculation. I read in the gesture of his response two things: firstly, he's taking a moment to contain his outrage at the presumption and hypocrisy playing out in front of him so he can respond from a place of calm - he literally 'grounds' himself; and secondly, he's letting the men drop into a place of discomfort that this isn't playing out as they expected - and as they thought was their due.

What masterful use of gesture and timing to quietly turn around an ugly and violent situation. Having no answer to give to his response to them, the men slink away to nurse their outrage and shame elsewhere. The woman, seen with great clarity and compassion by Jesus, is freed on a number of levels. And Jesus, presumably goes about the rest of his day, the whole scene being over in a few moments.

Hicks-Jenkins take on the scene is helpful in bringing us out of the narrative familiarity that the gospels, read again and again, can have, dulling through familiarity the startling drama that is playing out. But dropping back into the time and place of the scene, the immensity of what Jesus does is striking, confronting and critiquing as he does (and as he does so often) a whole range of contemporary social norms. 

And I'm left wondering how I can also critique the norms and assumptions of our complex and contested times and how I can do that from a place that is grounded, centred, compassionate, wise.

Gus McLeod

Left behind?

Jesus walks on water

This is perhaps one of the most iconic moments in the stories about Jesus. 

What a scene!   And how mysterious is this story!   Did Jesus get left behind?  With so many people around, did everyone think that he was with the others?  Home Alone style?  It seems like the disciples might have noticed that the main speaker was not there.   And what a way to get back at the people who have left you – walk across the water and frighten the living daylights out of them!   I am thinking that was probably not Jesus’ motivation.   But it is a strange story, quite unlike others – Jesus does some stunning miracles, but usually for a purpose and out of compassion, he does not fly over buildings and amaze people superhero style.   But here he walks on water.  Was it purely to get away from the crowds – perhaps thinking – no one will see, I will just nip across.   But he does not hide this part of himself from his closest friends though. 

This image is so eerie and delightful – an ethereal figure coming out of the stormy seas, wind and rain.  And it did terrify the disciples, though when they invite him into the boat they are saved from their arduous struggle with the water (having rowed for 3.5 miles in rough waters) and immediately get where they are going. (Note it says – they were willing to take him in – as if they may have refused! - a funny juxtaposition he can walk on water, but they are able to refuse to let him in?)

Jesus gives moments where he reveals himself; mystical, other worldly, way more than mortal man – a revelation of his God-ness.  Jesus shows himself in many ways, that he is a person like us – he gets tired, he gets cross, he can die!  But he is also not like us, he can still storms, feed 5000 people and walk on water. 

I need both images of Jesus – his humanity and his utter otherness.   In turbulent times I need to know that he felt and experienced this chaotic world as a person, but also that he is completely other, holy and unchanged by this mess.

QUESTIONS

I suggest sitting with this image of Jesus – walking through the stormy waters.   What does this image offer you?   Would you invite this other worldly Jesus into your boat?

Kirsty Hook 

Expectations

The LORD your God will raise up for you a prophet like me (Moses) from among you, from your fellow Israelites. You must listen to him. (Deuteronomy 18:15)

After the people saw the sign Jesus performed, they began to say, “Surely this is the Prophet who is to come into the world.” John 6:1-14, verse 14

Jesus crosses to the far shore of the Sea of Galilee (13 miles long, 8 miles wide). A great crowd of people follow – how? Did they walk all around the sea? Maybe some did. Was it a mass flotilla of boats? If so what a sight!  5000+ people and they proceed to follow Jesus up a mountainside.  In this remote area, Jesus playfully, with a twinkle in his eye perhaps, asks his disciples “Where shall we buy bread for these people to eat?”

He knew what he was going to do. He seems to pick his moment to disclose, and ask questions about, his identity.  What’s to hand is offered and used: 5 loaves, 2 fish.  There is a prayer, all are fed and baskets of leftovers result.  This is noted as a sign, pointing to the presence of the long awaited Prophet, now among them.   And so expectations will ramp up to a new level.

Curiosity and longing

Notoriety, popularity, celebrity, paparazzi. Expectation. I’ve not known this myself (!) but have read of others’ and for whom this was unsettling, derailing.  It hasn’t always worked out well for them!  The attitude in light of such attention and expectation can be to hide, to sneer, to bathe in it.  And Jesus? Here he creates distance (goes across the sea and up a hill) yet also draws near, showing compassion: What will they eat? 

Jesus is moved by and works with the expectations that are present (high and low, accurate and inaccurate). He clocks the crowds’ great curiosity and their deep longing.

He’s ignited the crowds’ expectations with his authoritative words and his healings and he wants to poke the expectations of the disciples too. He’s pricking interest and challenging possibilities, especially about himself eg hilltop recluse or expansive director, peaceful man or stirrer, all talk (though what talk!) and no action?

This miracle, ‘sign’ as John calls them, appears in all 4 gospels. It points to the identity and presence of the longed for Prophet. The ‘great crowd’ (v2 and v5) is in contrast to the ‘small loaves’ and ‘small fish’ (v 9). What have you got, even if it’s little? What do you bring?  This is enough for me to work with, to show you who I am and what I would do.

Questions

What do I expect of Jesus? Might Jesus want to challenge that, in terms of his personality and his actions?

What might he expect of me and is that more simple than I think? Might it be to give what’s in my hands, what’s in front of me? Give what I have and am, not what I have not and am not, and that’s enough.

Finally, what part has curiosity and longing played in my life so far?

Andrew Hook

Being seen

When Jesus saw Nathanael approaching, he said of him, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” “How do you know me?” Nathanael asked. Jesus answered, “I saw you while you were still under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Then Nathanael declared, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel.” (Within John 1:47-49)

Jesus begins with gathering disciples, scooping up friends. They see him variously, he sees them variously. Multiple dramas and stories are unearthed. How will this turn out for them all?

This short passage revolves around Jesus offering an observation, in effect a single word to a man called Nathanael: you are “guileless” or lacking in deceit.  This is underlined with Jesus contrasting Nathanael with Jacob the deceiver (verse 51).

Did Nathanael agree, was he thrilled, embarrassed by being told he was straightforward, without edges? Was this a quality he admitted or looked down on? What we are told is that this insight in turn elicits, very early in the Gospel stories, an almost startled recognition and confession, one which will recur for others too.  It will gather momentum and potency as Jesus’s life continues: “you are the Son of God; you are the king of Israel”.

Being seen

This on the back of being seen accurately, intimately.

My instinct is to not look too closely at Cazalet’s picture of this partially hidden sleeping figure. It asks me to respect his privacy, for me to look away perhaps? The possibility of nakedness would underline this. The strong red colour might suggest suffering or more likely (to me) is reminiscent of a baby just born, smothered in blood and innocence, a picture of purity of mind and/or heart and of undefended assurance.

Guileless, free from any attempt to deceive or to impress others. No axe to grind or lever to apply. No hidden agenda. This sounds like a rare breathe of fresh air.  Or does this sound like a naïve or boring character?  Maybe we like our film characters with a bit of a side. 

Jesus saw into a person and was moved by his core quality. Jesus affirmed Nathanael. He let him know what he thought of him, that he admired him.  

Have I seen such lack of deceit? What impact had it on me? Maybe I relaxed more, was less defensive. This is a rich gift that the guileless offer. 

Do I affirm the good that I see?  When fully seen how have I felt?

One word

I think of this one word ‘guileless’ and wonder what single words have stopped me as this word did Nathanael?  Which ones have, at least for a season, defined me, questioned me or formed me, for good or ill?

What onward stories have we told ourselves? ‘ You have heard it said but I say to you’, says Jesus. How accurate is my assessment or reading of myself, let alone of others?

One accurate intimate word can be affirming, inspiring, energising. Sometimes the leanness and simplicity of a single word can open us like nothing else. Sometimes they come our way as only snatches, brief compliments, biting asides. Something's go so deep. 

What word about myself have I heard? What would Jesus say?

Andrew Hook