Matthew under the arm 141

“This is the last stage”. Columba pointed towards the city that lay on the side of the great hill many miles ahead of us. I certainly did not want this pilgrimage to end. “When we arrive, will we see each other again? I have this feeling, Columba, that you will want to separate.” Columba stopped with a sorrowful look on his face. “What, my good and trusty friend, will you remember most of this pilgrimage?” I laughed. After all, what I would not remember? “Every single situation we have been in from the unremarkable to the extraordinary, you have summoned me to reflect on the presence of God in it all”. “Continue that and you will never be separated from me. Like that other story of separation, however, you will not hold on to me…”

Matthew 27.11-15

There is a strong temptation just to let this passage be! The last phrase is: ‘…the story among the Jews’. Reference to the Jews in the Gospels has been approached by New Testament theologians in many ways. However, in the context of increased racial sensitivity and the constant awareness of anti-Semitism, this passage leaves the reader feeling at least uncomfortable. On the other hand, the inclination for those in power in any regime or institution not to have their less than just activities exposed is strong. Church history is charged with such stories of duplicity, intrigue, fear and evasion. The story also serves the purpose of underlying the significance of the fact of the empty tomb. That fact from then on, indeed, would be a constant challenge to all posturing of power, particularly religious and ecclesiastical ones.

THAT YOUR RAISING MAY INSTIL COURAGE IN ME TO BE SET FREE AND BE MADE WHOLE.

Even with yourself, it may be difficult to admit that you have been involved in the undermining of someone in your lives – someone of whom you may have felt jealous. For must of us, however, there is that blushing remembrance of our collusion in someone else’s hurt or belittlement. Even if you have been spared such an experience, you can certainly imagine it. Imagine a scene of hiding and fear in which you have sought to deny someone else’s humanity in any way. Now imagine yourself wanting to find a way of denying Christ’s rising.
+Martin
Argyll and The Isles

Matthew under the arm 140

“It is important to arrive at the completion of this pilgrimage by night”, Columba said quietly as we climbed up the last of the steep valleys, at least of this pilgrimage. “Why, by night?” “Because I want to ensure that as you and I prepare to part, we greet the dawn together with that stillness which we have learnt on the way; that moment in the early part of the day, when the heart is most ready to receive the mystery of Christ”. I then remembered that we started in the dark, so that as were into our stride, the dawn appeared to welcome us on the pilgrimage. It is as if the hope of the dawn – the Resurrection – is written into the cycle of the Universe itself.

Matthew 28.9-10

Here we have a simple list of demands: ‘Do not be afraid….go….tell…’ Jesus does not say, ‘Now, let’s talk about your fear’. Nor does he say, ‘Now look. You ought not to be afraid.’ He makes a straight demand, as if he expects it, without reserve or hesitation, to be followed. Jesus ‘suddenly’ comes to meet the women. So why shouldn’t fear cease ‘suddenly’? The brothers ‘must leave for Galilee.’ No ‘please’ or ‘perhaps’, but another demand. Galilee is where the brothers were first formed as disciples. So going back to Galilee is to return to their first significant encounter with Jesus. That return would open up for them an avenue of grace again to perceive the mystery of the Resurrection.

I WOULD RETURN TO THE FIRST HINT OF YOUR PRESENCE WITHIN ME AND WAIT ON YOUR RISING WITHIN ME.

As has been the case throughout this pilgrimage, memory is of vital importance. If Galilee would stimulate the memory of the disciples as to their first experience of Jesus, where would your ‘Galilee’ be? Where would be the experience…the first hint of Christ in the detail of your personal life? Do not overlook anything no mater how trivial it may seem. Remember that Christ gathers up the fragments that nothing be lost. Even a crumb of burnt toast in your memory might unloosen a whole array of delight or perhaps apprehension about your experience. One useful [and enjoyable] wayof enabling the exercise to be given the time that is needed for it, is to go for a long walk by yourself, if you are able. Take a little notepad. Don’t be afraid to talk to Christ. Return to your ‘Galilee’.

+Martin
Bishop of Argyll and The Isles.

Matthew under the arm 139

We hadn’t eaten for two days. When we found a friendly inn, we sat by the fire and after a huge plate of broth, fell fast asleep. We woke early in the morning just before dawn. Columba looked pale. I asked him about his first experience of Christ. ‘It was early one morning, when my mother woke me as she always did with the words: ‘Christ has risen’, to which I was expected to respond, ‘He is risen indeed’. At Easter when we could shout ‘Alleluia!’ as well. But this particular morning I asked my mother where I could find this Risen Christ. She replied: ‘He is going ahead of you.’ So my experience, dear pilgrim friend, is that Christ is always just ahead of me.” “Just out of sight?” I added…. Columba remained silent and smiled.

Matthew 28.1-8
The actual raising by God of Jesus is not described in this passage. It is significant that we are left with the facticity of the empty tomb and bewildering words: ‘He is not here.’ I am silenced, but not as a withdrawal from those who would challenge and indeed dismiss the resurrection. This silence is recognition that I must have the humility to be challenged and to think about the faith that is based on the witness of those who experienced the Risen Christ. There is a human lust for certainty and to have things spelt out. When they are, of course, there is the dissatisfaction. This story creates breathless expectation not certainty, like a child constantly delighted with what may lie round the next corner. ‘Now He is going ahead of you’.

BE SILENT AND PONDER MY PRESENCE WHICH ENLIVENS, RAISES YOU; GOES AHEAD OF YOU TO GUIDE YOU

Recall a time when you have been deeply afraid. Who is involved in this memory? Where are you? What is the cause of the anxiety? Be as observant as you can. Blame no one in this exercise, least of all yourself. For many, the most troublesome experience of anxiety is when there is rejection. Now read this passage from Matthew carefully and maybe several times. Stop whenever a phrase or a word captivates you. Notice the tomb. Allow your imagination to picture every detail, every feeling associated with that detail. Listen to the words of the angel to the women.Allow your imagination to be free. Where would you go now? What is your first reaction? Note down as much of your experience of this exercise as you can recall. He is going before you!

+Martin
Bishop of Argyll and The Isles

Matthew under the arm 138

[Perhaps it seems strange to be writing about Matthew’s account of The Passion, The Tomb and indeed about The Resurrection at this time of year. However, I remind myself that the mystery of Christ’s birth is really only perceived through the prism of the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. What is more, there is a strange and painful irony in that the Passion narrative is a matter for meditation during the appalling scenes of suffering, death (including children), hunger, fear and the creation of refugees within the small piece – Gaza…]

I had wanted Columba and I to by-pass what we were informed to be troubled territory, but Columba reminded me that a pilgrim must be faithful to where the path leads, including into the ‘heart of darkness’. Early one morning, a crowd passed our host’s house. Columba and I quickly moved among them to discover why they were looking so disturbed. They were holding aloft a painting of a young person who had spoken out against local leadership and had, as a result, been murdered. ‘What was the young person’s greatest quality?’ Columba asked. ‘Gentle integrity’, was the answer. “That’s a painting”, responded Columba, “that is carried aloft when you live gentle integrity yourselves.”

Matthew 27:62-66
One of the ways of undermining the humanity of those who are a threat, even when they’re dead, is not to name them, but to label them. A name brings intimacy. A label distances. The Christian Churches tragically find it all too easy to label rather than to name. Labelling someone is an attempt to ensure that we are protected from what seems alien. This is, of course, in total contrast to the Christian dynamic which is to love the alien. So Jesus, in the tomb is labelled as an ‘imposter’- a sham. What is more, a ‘leader of the people’ is perhaps more powerful when dead than when alive. For example, Che Guevara has now legendary status, after his death, as a guerrilla, someone who fought in South America for the oppressed. So sealing Jesus’ tomb was perhaps a futile attempt to erase Jesus memory, let alone undermine any story of resurrection.

I WOULD KNOW INTIMATELY THE LIFE OF CHRIST WITHIN ME, IN MY MEMORY, MY PRAYING AND MY LIVING.

One of the tragedies of modern conflict, particularly when it includes genocide, is not just the destruction of a people, but erasing as much evidence of the history as possible of that people: ‘shredding the papers’ of it’s story. The numbing fear of nuclear holocaust is not simply about millions of deaths and the turning of the earth to glass, but the erasure of any memory of humanity: the sealing of our tomb. That is why this passage is perhaps the most chilling of all in the New Testament. The sealing of the tomb is the final destructive act as it suffocates hope. What history of your life do you regard as essential and would be lost behind ‘the sealed tomb’? What would you do in order to keep the memory alive, so that what may seem lost at your death may be ‘raised’? Use the sentence to enter the exercise prayerfully.

+Martin
Bishop of Argyll and The Isles.