You may have been watching the dramatisation of the Passion on BBC television this past week. Like most of us, I approached this without any great expectation that the film would, or could, succeed as an evangelistic tool. It was beautifully made with some quality direction and big names among the actors. It concentrated on the concerns and the motives of Caiaphas, the High Priest, and Pilate, the Roman Governor: Caiaphas, with his desire to prevent more bloodshed at the hands of the Roman occupation, and the need to maintain a religious resilience amongst the people of the Jews; Pilate, a low grade Roman governor, concerned about his career and anxious to avoid civil unrest. Through their mindset it seemed eminently reasonable that Jesus be removed from the scene to maintain stability. This answered the question, "Why did Jesus have to die?"

What was so lacking in the production, however, was just what it was about Jesus that brought people to faith. What caused ordinary working people to become disciples and apostles and be willing to lay down their own lives? There was, in other words, little indication that faith, and the consequences of faith, could bring any enduring joy. Not even the repentance of a prostitute, or of a criminal hanging on a cross beside Jesus, conveyed this. We were left with a very contemporary view that Christ was a good and holy man, that his claimed connection with God was questionable, and that he was only of peripheral interest.

The Church teaches that the only satisfactory (and satisfying) way of experiencing the joy of believing is to view the world through the eyes of Scripture; because this is the nearest we can get to seeing the world in the way that God does. When St Paul writes All have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God (Rom 3:23), he points up the way that humankind looks to God. There are those who conclude from this statement of human failure that God's anger makes us fit only for punishment, and that Jesus bears that punishment on the cross? It is forgiveness rather than punishment that re-connects us with the glory of God, and provides a way through the sin, failure and guilt. Surrounded by the pessimism and despair of our troubled world, where is the glory of God to be found and embraced?

A starting point is to rejoice at the wonder of creation and the gift of life. Conscious of the mis-use of creation and the way that life itself is threatened, the Church rejoices that in the risen Christ God has provided a new way of life. This model of thinking sees the creation of the world and the redemption of the world as an extension of the joy of God himself. I think this was why Jesus spoke about the end of all things in terms of a banquet. Think of all those parables with invitations to suppers, feasts, weddings, etc. These stories convey anticipation, excitement and hope at the prospect of the shared activity of joy. It corresponds to the nature of God himself and of the world that he has created as an expression of his own good pleasure Behold, it was very good! The created order was, and is, 'very good' and it is personified in God's Son who is the 'Good Shepherd'.
Unlike other shepherds, the Good Shepherd never gives up or abandons his flock. He will leave the ninety-nine sheep safe and set off back up the hill in search of the one who is lost.

But if our faith really is underpinned by this profound sense of joy rising out of the nature of God, a joy perceived in the world which we inhabit, a joy that is as much about anticipation of the end of all things as it is to do with sheer enjoyment of what we have now; if it is about these things, then must this joy, of necessity, bracket out the sufferings of Jesus and the desolation of the cross?

The Epistle to the Hebrews declares that it was because of the joy that was set before him that he endured the cross, despising the shame (12:2). The cross, and all that corresponds to it in the Christian life, has an end in view, the joy that is set before us. The descent of Jesus into desolation and his painful death took place in order that there might be an ascent. Jesus did not descend in order that we might descend further and further and further. The cross is not meant to paralyse us. The wonder of what God did, both on the cross of Christ and in the emptiness of the tomb, is meant to dawn on us, to release us and to give a new dimension to that joy in creation which springs from the heart of God.

The ministry of Jesus anticipates the joy of the resurrection, usually at moments of human extremity and despair. They came to him: blind, lame, mad, hurting, damaged, frightened and rejected. In their sorrow was found their joy as the power of God's love came to bear upon them. These stories build up to a climax.

Out of the suffering of Jesus emerges joy beyond all measure: a resurrection to be shared with all who place their trust in God, a resurrection which sets the seal on God's work of redemption - that we are chosen by God, cherished by him, forgiven by him and above all loved as if we were the only person in the world.

This joy is conferred on the Church as we seek to further God's mission. It's not about false heartiness, or fixed grins, or mere optimism. The kind of joy we speak of is often only perceived in the context of great human suffering - the sudden recovery from a serous medical condition; an escape from an horrendous car accident; the survival of a premature birth; the coming together of a young life, ravaged by drugs, and so on. The Church, when faced with adversity, knows the joy of God's love and power. Those who are most capable of showing a mature human sympathy are precisely those people who, at other times, can show or express the profoundest joy. These are the people who can rejoice with those that rejoice and weep with those that weep.

This is, I believe, what lies behind the conversation at the empty tomb as described by St John. Mary, supposing him to be the gardener, asks where the body of Jesus has been taken. Jesus replies, 'Mary'. With recognition, she exclaims, 'Rabbouni!' But then he tells her not to touch him, because he has not yet ascended to his Father. The key word is 'yet'. For St John the joy of the resurrection, having dawned on Mary, needs to take root, so that Christ will be with these disciples, and disciples everywhere, as an abiding spiritual presence. Out of joy come the necessary gifts of servant-hood, and compassion.

This is why the prayer of the Church is necessary to experience the joy of the resurrection. Prayer is the vehicle which carries us from death to life. Prayer has us holding ourselves and other people in the light and the warmth of God's love. God is the giver of happiness because he is the giver of love. The joy expressed in our worship today contributes to our vocation to be fully human. It is a contribution to the common good in a world where there are such mixed messages about gratification, pleasure and fulfilment. It doesn't make us immune to sorrow; but it does expose us to unpredictable happinesses. The resurrection joy of God is always there, just beneath the surface, subterranean and powerful, breaking upon us as it did on that first Easter morning in unexpected and unanticipated ways, stretching our credulity. One of the great spiritual writers of the 20th century, Thomas Merton, once wrote that true spirituality, true contemplation, is deeply subversive. It confronts the ideology of the world, an ideology that moves away from God and tries to represent truth as something conditional and subjective. In the contemplation of God this morning, joy dawns with the realisation that death has turned to life, and despair is eclipsed by hope.

Or, as a 4th century Father of the Church put it:

Yesterday I was crucified with Christ;
Today I am glorified with him.
Yesterday I was dead with Christ;
Today I am sharing in his resurrection.
Yesterday I was buried with him;
Today I am waking with him from the sleep of death.
Gregory of Nazianzus

More sermons, modern and historical, available in Norwich Cathedral Library

Back to Sermons homepage