“She lay at his feet” (Ruth 3:1-11)

 

When you think of a romance story what comes to your mind? For the more literary types among us it might be Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet or Charlotte Bronte’s Wuthering Heights. For others of us perhaps it could be something more like one of the many dozens of novels of Danielle Steele. Or if you want to go all the way, there is Canada’s contribution to the genre, the epic Harlequin novels, whose output surpasses well over 100,000,000 copies every year under more than a thousand titles.

Yet, when it comes down to it, I don’t believe there is anything that can surpass the little story that we began to look at four Sundays ago—the Book of Ruth. The great German poet and playwright Goethe praised it as “the loveliest complete work on a small scale”. Rudolf Alexander Schröder, a five-time nominee for the Nobel Prize in Literature, declared, “No poet in the world has written a more beautiful short story.”

In the original Hebrew it comprises barely two thousand words—not that much longer than a good-sized high school essay. Yet even across an expanse of well over three thousand years after the events it portrays, it continues to speak to our hearts and to hold a beauty and an attractiveness that are impossible to surpass.

Now I’m not sure that Pastor Marvin intentionally timed it this way, but this evening at sundown will mark the beginning of the three-day Jewish festival of Shavuot. Shavuot is Hebrew for “weeks” and it gets its name because it comes seven weeks (that is, a week of weeks) after Passover. It coincides with the celebration accompanying the annual wheat and barley harvest—and it goes all the way back to the days of Moses. In the book of Exodus we read:

You shall observe the Feast of Weeks, the first fruits of wheat harvest… The best of the first fruits of your ground you shall bring into the house of the Lord your God. (Exodus 34:22; 23:19)

So it is that the events we are reading about this morning from the Book of Ruth occurred at exactly this time of the year. And in Jewish homes and synagogues around the world this very evening people will be gathering to read the Book of Ruth. But that’s enough of an introduction to this morning’s passage. Let’s turn to chapter 3 of Ruth and see what the Holy Spirit has there to teach us…

Lying at Boaz’s feet

It has been a long day in Boaz’ fields. The temperatures in that part of the world at this time of year can easily climb into the low thirties on the Celsius scale. So picture Boaz and his farmhands at the end of the day—their faces red from the heat and running with beads of sweat, their backs and muscles aching. And now, having enjoyed a hearty meal, their stomachs would have been full—and I can imagine they may all have been feeling a little heady from the wine. So it could hardly have taken them long to fall into a deep and well-deserved sleep.

All of this would no doubt have been in Naomi’s mind when she pulled aside her daughter-in-law Ruth. Naomi had a plan. She had mapped it out carefully and worked out every detail. “Wash and anoint yourself with perfume. Get all dressed up in your finest clothes and go down to the threshing floor. But don’t let him know you’re there until the party is well under way and he’s had plenty to eat and drink. When the man lies down and falls asleep, keep an eye out for where he is resting. Then go and uncover his feet and lie down…”[1]

Now at this point you may be asking yourself, what was that all about? What was going through Naomi’s mind when she gave Ruth those instructions? And what was the point of bending down to uncover Boaz’s feet?

If we look through the Old Testament, we will find that this is not the only place where something not all that different from this takes place. Many years later, for example, in the days of the kings there was a Shunammite woman whose son the prophet Elisha had miraculously brought back from death. When she entered her son’s room and set her eyes on him—no longer dead but very much alive—she bowed down to the ground and fell at Elisha’s feet. (2 Kings 4:32-37)

Then when we turn to the Psalms, we read how

The Lord, the Most High, is to be feared,
  a great king over all the earth.
He subdued peoples under us,
    and nations under our feet. (Psalm 47:2-3)

To place ourselves at the feet of another person is an act of respect and submission. It is to acknowledge the power, the authority, of that individual. Feet are dirty, particularly if you’re wearing sandals and working the soil. So for Ruth to lie at Boaz’s feet was a powerful symbolic act that she was humbling herself in his presence, placing herself under his authority, giving herself over to him.

Now remember that before she lay down Ruth had carefully uncovered Boaz’s feet. And just as it can become quite hot during the day, the temperature under the starlit sky can go down by fifteen or more degrees—with the result that Boaz was likely to have felt his feet becoming a little chilly in the early morning pre-dawn hours and woken up. And when he looked up, there to his surprise was that same young woman whom he had spotted gleaning in his fields. “Who are you?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “I am Ruth, your servant…,” came the reply.

Falling at Jesus’ feet

Now I’m going to leave the story of Ruth there. And let’s fast forward ahead nearly twelve centuries, to the time of Jesus. We are by the Sea of Galilee and Jesus is being followed by a large crowd. Suddenly out of nowhere one of the prominent leaders of the local synagogue rushes up to him and falls at his feet. It is an act of desperation. His little girl is at the point of death and he has nowhere else to turn (Luke 8:41).

On another occasion Jesus is in Gentile territory in an attempt to take a break and get away from things. Yet even there his fame follows him and a Greek woman, whose daughter is demon possessed, finds out about him and falls at his feet, begging him to free her from her affliction. (Mark 7:24-26)

Now we move south to Bethany, just fourteen kilometers from the fields where Boaz in a former time had raised his crops and where Ruth had lain at his feet. This time we are not in a farmer’s field, but in the home of a well-to-do Pharisee, where he has invited Jesus to dinner. There they were, reclining around the low table and enjoying the food, when out of nowhere there appears a woman who was known (perhaps embarrassingly to some of those who were present) to have something of a less-than-honourable reputation.

Silently weeping, she comes up from behind, kneels down and begins to wipe Jesus’ feet with her tears, to kiss them, and to rub perfume on them with her hair. I can only imagine that the people around the room tried to look aside with silent gasps, as nobody could think of words to say. When someone finally did speak, it was with harsh criticism. But Jesus recognized that what she had done was a profound act of devotion. (Luke 7:36-38)

Again in Bethany we are at the home of the two sisters Mary and Martha. While Martha is busying herself over pots and pans in the kitchen, Mary is at Jesus’ feet drinking in all that he has to say. Finally Martha gets fed up to the point that she complains. But Jesus replies, “Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.” (Luke 10:38-42)

Now I cite all of these incidents because they are not isolated. In each case the people involved were recognizing Jesus’ divine power and authority. And they anticipate the day when we will do the same, when with them and with all creation you and I will bend our knees before the throne of the Lamb. And together we will cry aloud,

To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honour and glory and power,
for ever and ever! (Revelation 5:13)

Jesus washes the disciples’ feet

It is a glorious picture. And if we were to end here, we would certainly be leaving on a high note. Yet if we are to gain a fully biblical perspective, if we want to truly find the mind of Christ in all of this, there is one more incident that we dare not overlook. This time we are in the upper room where Jesus is about to share in his last meal with his followers.

As the scene opens, the gospel gives us a glimpse into what was going on in Jesus’ mind. John writes, “Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper…” And then, what did he do? John tells us, “He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it round his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” (John 13:3-4)

At this point we might think to ourselves, shouldn’t it have been the disciples who bent down before Jesus’ feet? But no, it was Jesus who knelt before them and washed their feet. Now Peter recognized the craziness of this and objected loudly. “No, you shall never wash my feet!” But Jesus had his way and Peter and the other disciples learned a lesson that would remain with them for the rest of their lives.

So what are we to learn from all of this?

My thoughts go back many years ago to when I was pastor of a church in Montreal. Each year our local seminary would send a student to spend time in the church and to gain some practical experience of pastoral ministry.

Now there was a retired bishop who lived in the seminary at the time. He was a deeply godly man who would be up every morning well before sunrise to take time with the Lord in Bible reading, worship and prayer. And he had the look and sound of a bishop too, with his white hair and sonorous, resonant voice. One day he invited my student to join with him in a ministry he had, visiting patients in the local chest hospital. They came to one man whose illness was so serious he had to be on breathing assistance and was unable to do anything for himself. The bishop, who always wore his clerical collar and bishop’s purple shirt with his large pectoral cross draped over it, asked if there was anything he could do for him. My student expected that the man might ask for prayer or perhaps a Bible reading. But he was caught by surprise when the man answered, “Yes, would you give me a shave?”

Without a moment’s hesitation the good bishop went off and found a razor, some shaving soap and a basin, filled it with warm water and gave the man his shave. It was a lesson in humble service that my student would never forget (and obviously neither have I!).

“You call me Teacher and Lord,” said Jesus, “and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant^[ is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.” (John 13:13-17)

As Ruth lay at the feet of Boaz, so our Lord Jesus—the one before whom every knee will one day bow—this same Jesus calls you and me to walk that same path of humility and servanthood, “just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve.” (Matthew 20:28) Are you ready for the adventure?

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[1]     Taken from The Message version by Eugene Peterson

“Your King is Coming” (Matthew 21:1-11)

The ancient world out of which our Scriptures arose was a succession of mighty empires that swept across the Middle East. There had been the Egyptian Empire (1560-1069 bc), followed by the Assyrian Empire (1300-612 bc), after which came the Persian Empire (550-330 bc). But by far the greatest of them all was the Macedonian Empire (338-136 bc). This vast domain covered a swath of land occupying over five million square kilometers. It stretched from modern-day Greece eastwards through what are now Bulgaria and Romania, Turkey and Armenia, Iraq and Iran, Afghanistan and Pakistan, southwards through Syria, Jordan, Lebanon and Israel, and across northern Africa through Egypt and Libya to the fringes of the Sahara Desert. It would not be exceeded in area even by the mighty Roman empire at its peak five centuries later. And all of this was the doing of one man: Alexander the Great, unquestionably one of the mightiest conquerors in all of history.

Now come to the city of Jerusalem in the year 331 bc. A message has arrived that Alexander himself would be paying a visit. To understand what this meant, you need to know that Jerusalem had refused to ally with Alexander as his armies battled against the Persian empire. So when they were brought the news that Alexander himself was coming to their city, its leading citizens began to spin into a frenzy, fearing the worst. They were certainly in no position to defend themselves, so they went to extravagant lengths to try to wow him and head off disaster.

Four centuries later the story was still being told. Here is what Jewish historian Josephus would write of that visit:

Jaddus the high priest, when he heard [the news of Alexander’s planned visit], was in an agony, and under terror, as not knowing how he should meet the Macedonians, since the king was displeased at his foregoing disobedience. He therefore ordained that the people should make supplications, and should join with him in offering sacrifice to God, whom he besought to protect that nation, and to deliver them from the perils that were coming upon them. Whereupon God warned him in a dream … that he should take courage, and adorn the city, and open the gates; that the rest should appear in white garments, but that he and the priests should meet the king in the habits proper to their order…

Josephus continues:

Alexander was not far from the city [when Jaddus the high priest] went out in procession, with the priests and the multitude of the citizens… When Alexander saw the multitude at a distance, in white garments, while the priests stood clothed with fine linen, and the high priest in purple and scarlet clothing, with his mitre on his head … he approached by himself … and saluted the high priest. The Jews also did all together, with one voice, salute Alexander, and encompass him about…

Just try to picture the scene in all its grandeur: Standing at the gate, the high priest and his entourage robed in their finest ceremonial attire. Behind them stretches a numberless crowd all clothed in white. Even for a great conqueror such as Alexander it must have been an impressive sight.

Applauded

Now let’s move ahead three and a half centuries. Jerusalem is bustling with pilgrims from every corner of the known world, all preparing for the feast of Passover. It is likely that its population of less than 100,000 swelled to twice that amount on those occasions, so you can just imagine the chaos: narrow streets swarming with pilgrims, and having to elbow and jostle your way even to make the least progress to get anywhere.

At this point Jesus and the disciples are just outside the city proper, standing on the Mount of Olives. The Mount of Olives rises about three hundred feet above Jerusalem itself (about twice the height of Citadel Hill) so you can imagine the panoramic view they had of the city across the Kidron Valley. It was from there that Jesus gave instructions to two of his followers to bring him a donkey with her colt. And so, as the next scene unfolds, you can picture Jesus riding slowly down the hill towards the city gate.

Perhaps some people had already seen him coming from across the valley and begun to tell others. Soon what started out as a quiet entry into the city became a royal procession, as onlookers began to spread their cloaks along the dusty road, while others took branches they had cut from the trees and laid them on the ground. All the while people were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord! Hosanna in the highest!”

It is amazing, even without social media like Facebook and Instagram and WhatsApp, how widely and rapidly news could travel in the ancient world. Maybe there were some who had heard of Jesus’ miracles along their way to the Passover festival. Perhaps others had even witnessed them themselves—the healing of ten lepers, the restoring of sight to a blind man, the astonishing change of heart to Zacchaeus the tax collector… Perhaps still others had heard his arresting parables about the lost sheep, or the prodigal son, or the rich man and the beggar Lazarus, or the Pharisee and the tax collector… And, while this would have aroused the animosity of some, there would have been more than a few who had found themselves being irresistibly attracted to this remarkable man.

Added to that was the fact that there was a widespread expectation of a coming Messiah. Peter and the other disciples had long arrived at the firm conclusion that this was indeed who Jesus was. And by this time there were others who were beginning to ask themselves the question if this Jesus might not himself be the long promised Saviour-King (John 7:40-41).

So it is that we are confronted with the narrow streets of Jerusalem crowded with people cheering with Hosannas and waving their branches of palm. Excitement filled the air. The sense of anticipation was palpable. As we look back upon the scene, I wonder if this ought not to be our model, not just for Palm Sunday, but for every Sunday as we gather to celebrate the King of kings. It is a tragedy when worship becomes a routine for us—or even worse for some, a chore.

In my Anglican tradition, early in the service the worship leader would greet the congregation with the exhortation, “Praise ye the Lord!”. To which the congregation would reply, “The Lord’s name be praised!” Being Anglo-Saxons, that response was often rather muted, dare I say half-hearted? But let’s all stand up and imagine for a moment that we are on one of the streets of Jerusalem and Jesus is passing by…

Hosanna to the Son of David!
Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!
Hosanna in the highest!

Abandoned

But we move on now to another location, once again a short distance outside the walls of Jerusalem—but this time not the picturesque Mount of Olives, rather what was known as the Place of the Skull, Golgotha, the execution ground. It is five days later. Gone is the excitement of Palm Sunday. The cheers of “Hosanna!” are not even a faint echo anymore. Only days later they had given way to angry calls of “Crucify him!” Now even those shouts have faded into the eerie quietness of Calvary. Gone are the crowds, their places taken by a small cohort of Roman guards, a few of the religious officials and the occasional passerby. Not far away a few women and a teenage boy stand in grief-stricken silence.

For the Romans crucifixion was a favourite means of punishment, combining both sadistic, drawn-out torture and execution, and standing as a public warning to any who dared to join in opposition against the imperial régime. A hundred years before Jesus’ crucifixion, after a lengthy slaves’ revolt, six thousand crosses had lined the Appian Way.

In the end, though, it would not be the waving palms and the shouts of “Hosanna!” that would endure. No, it would be the cross of Calvary and the parched cry that continues to echo down the centuries: “Father, forgive them…”

A generation later a former persecutor of Jesus’ followers would write, “[Some] demand signs and [others] seek wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called … Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God.” (1 Corinthians 1:22-24) And again, “Far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” (Galatians 6:14)

“There is … no Christianity without the cross,” wrote Bible teacher and author John Stott. “If the cross is not central to our religion, ours is not the religion of Jesus.”[1]

Every time we look at the cross, [he wrote elsewhere] Christ seems to say to us, ‘I am here because of you. It is your sin I am bearing, your curse I am suffering, your debt I am paying, your death I am dying.’ Nothing in history or in the universe cuts us down to size like the cross. All of us have inflated views of ourselves, especially in self-righteousness, until we have visited a place called Calvary. It is there, at the foot of the cross, that we shrink to our true size.[2]

And I would want to add, it is there, at the cross, that we also discover that you and I, flawed and wayward sinners though we be, are of infinite worth to our Father God.

Acclaimed

Which brings us to a third scene—and it is another palm procession, not on the dusty streets inside the gates of Jerusalem, but on the streets of gold in the holy city of God. It comes to us in the Book of Revelation:

After this I looked, and behold, a great multitude that no one could number, from every nation, from all tribes and peoples and languages, standing before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed in white robes, with palm branches in their hands, and crying out with a loud voice, “Salvation belongs to our God who sits on the throne, and to the Lamb!” And all the angels were standing round the throne and round the elders and the four living creatures, and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshipped God, saying, “Amen! Blessing and glory and wisdom and thanksgiving and honour and power and might be to our God for ever and ever! Amen.”

Then one of the elders addressed me, saying, “Who are these, clothed in white robes, and from where have they come?” I said to him, “Sir, you know.” And he said to me, “These are the ones coming out of the great tribulation. They have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.

“Therefore they are before the throne of God,
     and serve him day and night in his temple;
     and he who sits on the throne
              will shelter them with his presence.
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore;
     the sun shall not strike them,
     nor any scorching heat.
For the Lamb in the midst of the throne will be their shepherd,
     and he will guide them to springs of living water,
and God will wipe away every tear from their eyes.”

 (Revelation 7:15-17)

It is a remarkable scene, that stretches beyond the limits even of the wildest imagination. It sends chills down my spine every time I read it. It reveals to us that the celebration of that first Palm Sunday and our celebration today are but a preview, a rehearsal if you will, of the surpassing joy that awaits us, when we put our trust in Christ and in what he has won for us by his death on the cross.

Today, on this Palm Sunday, we look ahead not only to the events of Good Friday and Easter. We look beyond them to when you and I will gather with countless myriads of God’s people from every continent and century to rejoice before the throne of our crucified, risen, ascended and glorified Saviour. But that can happen only as we can speak with the Apostle Paul of the Saviour “who loved me and gave himself for me” (Galatians 2:20). Those words are reflected so beautifully in the song,

It was for me he cried, for me he died,
For me he shed his blood upon a tree.
It was for me he came, for me his shame;
For me, oh praise his name, it was for me.[3]

And so let me ask: Have you stood at the foot of the cross? Have you looked up at the one hanging there and recognized that it was for you he suffered and bled and died—that it was your sins, your guilt, your death he took upon himself there?

Let’s take a moment to pray in silence, and use the opportunity to offer ourselves to Jesus, our glorious King, who is worthy of all praise, and who gave himself once and for all for you and for me and for our salvation on the cross…

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[1]     The Cross of Christ, 68

[2]     The Message of Galatians, 179

[3]     Dave Bolling, “It was for me”

“Living In a Far From Perfect World” (1 Peter 2:18-25)

I suspect that a number of you have heard the old story of the young man who was desperately seeking God’s guidance for some crucial issue in his life. For some reason he decided that the best way forward might be simply to allow his Bible to fall open randomly and then follow the wisdom of whatever verse his eyes first fell upon.

So he let his Bible fall open. And much to his alarm the verse staring up at him was Matthew 27:5, where he read these words: “And throwing down the pieces of silver into the temple, he departed, and he went and hanged himself.” Well that certainly didn’t appeal to him, so he decided to try again. This time he came to Luke 10:37 – “You go, and do likewise.” Well, he thought to himself, maybe it’s third time lucky. So he riffled through the pages once more and what did his eyes land upon, but John 13:27 – “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

You don’t have to laugh, but I just wanted to illustrate a maxim that was drilled into me early in my Christian life by some of my fellow students in our Christian fellowship at university. It goes like this: A text without a context is a pretext.

I could name any number of clips from the Bible that have been misused because they have been quoted without any regard for the context in which they were originally written. And I confess to my shame that I am guilty of having done it on more than one occasion myself. But I say all of this because this morning we have come to a passage that has been one of the most egregiously misinterpreted in all of Scripture. And if you haven’t guessed it already, it is Peter’s words about slavery.

A couple of weeks ago in my own personal quiet time I was reading through Ephesians. There the apostle Paul also addresses slaves, and in terms not all that different from what we have read from Peter this morning. I must say that I was tremendously grateful for what the commentator had written in my study guide. He gave this warning: “This text should not be misused either to downplay the evil of slavery or, as has historically been the case, to support its horrors.”[1] A text without a context is a pretext.

The Sorrow of Injustice

So it is this morning that we find Peter addressing “servants” and calling upon them to be subject to their masters with all respect. The word translated “servants” in our Bibles in the original is oiketes. My Greek lectionary translates that term as a domestic or a house slave, or simply a slave. And in fact that is how the majority of contemporary English translations render this word: “slave”.

But whether the word means “servant” or “slave” is not the issue. The real tragedy is that passages like this, which can be found in both the Old and the New Testaments, have been used as a justification for slavery.

No less a figure than George Whitefield, who with Jonathan Edwards was one of the leaders of the First Great Awakening—that remarkable revival that swept across what is now the eastern United States in the early eighteenth century—was a leading proponent of slavery. As was Charles Hodge, principal of Princeton Theological Seminary and recognized as one of the greatest evangelical theologians of the nineteenth century. In fact, just a year before the outbreak of the American Civil War, Hodge could write in categorical terms, “If the present course of the abolitionists is right, then the course of Christ and the apostles was wrong.”[2]

But to go back to my daily devotional reading, here is more of what the author had to say:

Many times I have heard it said that the best way to understand [the Bible’s] words about slavery is to think about the modern workplace, so that the text becomes about respecting your boss … In the ancient world, slavery was common, as being employed is common today, but to compare the two in any way beyond this is wrong. Slavery meant you were owned by someone else, that your body was not yours and that you were not able to decide for yourself.

So what are we to take away from these words from Scripture? How are we to understand and apply them to our lives and in our world today?

First of all, we must remember that neither Peter nor the slaves to whom he wrote were in a position to do anything about their slavery. Although it had occurred a century and a half before, everybody knew about the revolt of 120,000 slaves that after a three-year struggle had been brutally put down by the Roman army. Of those who were not slaughtered in the conflict, more than 6,000 were crucified along the Appian Way.

Besides that, we need to recognize that you and I are in a position of privilege. We may face difficult circumstances at work—unreasonable bosses, excessive hours, dangerous conditions, the pressure to compromise our integrity, or a host of other unfavourable conditions, but the fact remains that we aren’t slaves.

Yet estimates are that there are well in excess of forty million men, women and children who are living in some form of enslavement in our world today—whether in forced labour on farms, in mines and in factories, in forced marriages, through child labour, through forced sexual exploitation or in still other variations. Think of it for a moment. Forty million: that’s the population of Canada. And the fact is that you and I benefit from their labours through the inexpensive produce and manufactured goods that are at our fingertips every day.

I am grateful to Jo Hockley, who a couple of weeks ago pointed me to a website called “Slavery Footprint”. I took their survey and discovered that by a conservative estimate my lifestyle depends on the labour of at least forty-eight slaves. Those slaves are invisible to me because they are working (or perhaps I should say overworked) often in dangerous and unhealthy conditions in mines and fields and sweatshops thousands of miles away. What is the solution to this? I confess that the problem is far too complex for me to make any recommendations, except at the very least to make ourselves aware of the extent of slavery still present in our world today and to be careful about what we purchase. And if you’d like some help with that, the website endslaverynow.org has 429 useful suggestions for you!

And let us not forget that we follow the one anointed by the Spirit of the Lord “to proclaim good news to the poor…, to proclaim liberty to the captives…, to set at liberty those who are oppressed…” (Luke 4:18)

The Suffering of Christ

So how are we to understand those words of Peter to slaves? The answer is to try to comprehend them not only in their historical context but equally, if not more importantly, in their biblical context. And that context is found in words that Peter would certainly have heard from Jesus himself: “But I say to you who hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. To one who strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also, and from one who takes away your cloak do not withhold your tunic  either… And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.” (Luke 6:27-28,31)

Peter had witnessed that lesson dramatically put into action by Jesus himself in the Garden of Gethsemane on the night before his crucifixion. You will remember how, when the soldiers had come to arrest Jesus, Peter drew out a sword in an attempt at bravado and slashed off the high priest’s servant’s ear—only to be met by Jesus’ stern rebuke, “Put your sword in its place, for all who take the sword will perish by the sword.” (John 18:10-11) At which point Jesus touched the servant’s ear and healed him.

Perhaps it shouldn’t surprise us, then, that at this point Peter’s thoughts turn to what took place on the day that followed. As he looked back across the space of a generation or more, I suspect that the events of that grim and fateful day were as clear in Peter’s mind as when they had first occurred. The heckling of the passers-by would still have echoed in his ears. He could still see the sadistic grins on the faces of the soldiers. And he could still feel the tears that trickled down the faces of Mary and the other women—and down his own too. And above it all he could hear the parched voice that cried out, “Father, forgive them…”

So we shouldn’t be too surprised when a generation later we find Peter writing, “For this is a gracious thing, when, mindful of God, one endures sorrows while suffering unjustly.” It is not an easy lesson to absorb, because it is counterintuitive. It goes against all our grain. It turns our natural sense of justice on its head. Yet it is the repeated experience of generation upon generation of Christian believers from Peter’s time right through to our own—somehow to meet abuse with grace, anger with gentleness, nastiness with love. I’m not going to say that people are necessarily going to change as a result (although perhaps by God’s grace some will), but regardless of their reaction we will be radiating the sweet aroma of Jesus.

The Sacrifice that Transforms Us

It was only later, during those forty days between Jesus’ resurrection and ascension, that Peter began to realize that Jesus’ suffering on the cross was more than just a terrible miscarriage of justice. Luke tells us it was then that Jesus “opened their minds to understand the Scriptures, and said to them, ‘Thus it is written, that the Christ should suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that repentance for the forgiveness of sins should be proclaimed in his name to all nations…’” (Luke 24:44-47)

So it was that in the space of a short seven weeks later Peter would be proclaiming, “Let all the house of Israel … know for certain that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified… Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins…” (Acts 2:36,38) And so it is that we read this morning, “He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By his wounds you have been healed.”

It was at Calvary that Jesus took all the suffering, all the injustice, all the cruelty and evil of the world upon himself. And the power and effects of that sacrifice reach across the whole sweep of eternity to touch not only Peter and his readers but the likes of you and me today. The cross of Christ tells us like nothing else that you and I are loved—loved by none less than the God of the universe and of all eternity, and loved to the point where he would give his own Son to restore our relationship with him.

The cross frees us from the burden of thinking that somehow we need to earn our way into God’s good books (which is something we could never do in the first place). For through his cross Jesus has nullified both the curse and the power of sin over our lives.

When Jesus uttered those words, “It is finished,” we are told that the thick veil of the Temple was torn in two from top to bottom. It was a dramatic sign that the wall that our sins and waywardness had erected between us and God was demolished. The Good Shepherd had reclaimed his straying sheep to bring them home.

Well, that’s the big context of our passage this morning. May it cause us to rejoice in the freedom that we enjoy in our society, to pray and advocate and do what we can for those who still live in bondage today—and never to underestimate the price that Jesus has paid for your and my eternal freedom and for theirs.

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[1]     David Horsfall, “It is Not About Your Boss”, Ephesians 6:1-9, Scripture Union Encounter With God, 5 March 2024

[2]     Darius Jankiewicz, “Hermeneutics of Slavery”

“What’s In a Name?” (Matthew 1:18-25)

 If you were expecting a baby—and you knew it was going to be a boy—what do you think you would name him? Well, in Canada apparently the most popular name for boys right now is Noah, followed closely by Liam and William. (And for the record, the top three girls’ names are Olivia, Emma and Charlotte.)

“You are to name him Jesus”

In our Bible reading this evening, however, Joseph wasn’t given the luxury of a choice when it came to naming the baby to whom Mary was to give birth. Can you imagine him saying back to the angel, “No, we’ve done some thinking, and we’ve decided we’re going to name him Liam…”? It wasn’t going to happen!

And so, over the next few minutes, as we stand on the cusp between Advent and Christmas, I invite you to join with me as I meditate on the name that Joseph and Mary gave to the baby who was to be born to them: Jesus.

Now that name Jesus has a noble lineage. I’m sure many of you are aware that in the Hebrew spoken by Joseph and Mary it would have been Yeshua. Perhaps we are familiar with it as the biblical name Joshua. And Joshua was one of the greatest heroes of the Old Testament. It was he who as the successor to Moses led the people of Israel into the Promised Land. And his name, “Joshua” in turn means something like “The Lord saves” or “The Lord is salvation”.

Today the name Jesus comes in as something like number 2003 on the list of babies’ names here in Canada. However, in first-century Israel Jesus was not an altogether uncommon name. Indeed, we meet with two other Jesuses in the New Testament. There was “Jesus called Justus”, a companion of the Apostle Paul, whom he mentions in his letter to the Colossians. And there was Jesus Barabbas, the criminal who was released by Pontius Pilate when the crowd clamoured to have him set free.

We don’t know how or why those two were given that particular name. But we do know why Jesus was given it: because, in the words of the angel, he would save his people from their sins.

Now I can’t imagine that either Mary or Joseph can have had any precise understanding of what the angel meant by that. But they would have been in no uncertainty that the child who was in Mary’s womb was special—and that he would play a unique and all-important role in God’s dealings with his people.

Forty days after the baby’s birth, when they came to the Temple for Mary’s ritual purification, it was the devout Simeon who would give them an inkling of what was to come. After blessing them, it was Simeon who told Mary, “This child is appointed for the falling and rising of many… and to be a sign that will be spoken against, and a sword will pierce through your own soul also…” (Luke 2:34-35) Ominous words—and no doubt among those that Mary would ponder in her heart over the years to come.

“Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”

Looking back, it is clear that Simeon’s words of prophecy pointed directly to a grief that years later would tear deep into Mary’s soul. Indeed his prophecy would be fulfilled just a short distance from where he had spoken it. No doubt Mary could see the Temple rising above the city on the horizon, as she helplessly watched her son, bruised and bloodied, being hoisted up on a cross. And it is there that we encounter the name of Jesus again—not from the lips of an angel this time, but displayed prominently on the crass sign that Pontius Pilate ordered to be fastened above his head: “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”.

Of course Pilate intended it as a form of twisted humour, a mockery not only of Jesus but also of a people Pilate himself openly despised. And the religious authorities got the message. They recognized it as the insult, the blasphemy that Pilate intended it to be. And they demanded that the sign be amended, so that it no longer read “The King of the Jews”, but “This man claimed to be king of the Jews”. However, Pilate was in no mood to change his mind and the wording stood: “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”.

This time it is not shepherds who gather to look on in wondering awe and humble adoration. It is ghoulish spectators who have come to look on as a man’s life painfully slips away from him. And it is not an angels’ chorus that we hear, singing, “Glory to God in the highest…” It is the voice of mockers sniggering among themselves, “He saved others, but he cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.”

Yet not many days would pass before there were those who came to see what had happened that day in a whole different light. The sign of humiliation and shame would become for them the symbol of victory and salvation, so that less than a generation later Paul, a former persecutor of the church, could write, “Far be it for me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Galatians 6:14) Jesus, the child in the manger. Jesus, the crucified Saviour.

“At the name of Jesus every knee shall bow”

It was looking back on the crucifixion that the same Paul could write these words:

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,
who, though he was in the form of God,
did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped,
but made himself nothing,
taking the form of a servant,
being born in human likeness.
And being found in human form,
he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to the point of death,
even death on a cross.
Therefore God has highly exalted him
and bestowed on him the name that is above every name,
so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord,
to the glory of God the Father. (Philippians 2:5-11)

“You shall give him the name Jesus…” The shepherds were overcome with fear. The wise men bowed in reverence. Faithful believers have trusted and worshipped and proclaimed him for nearly two thousand years. And the day is surely coming when you and I and all who have put their trust in him will gather around his glorious throne. And there we will bow before him to sing with all creation,

Worthy are you …
for you were slain,
and by your blood you ransomed people for God
    from every tribe and language and people and nation,
and you have made them a kingdom and priests to our God,
    and they shall reign on the earth.

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain,
to receive power and wealth and wisdom and might
and honour and glory and blessing!

To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be blessing and honour and glory and might for ever and ever!
(Revelation 5:9,10,12,13)

We have Jesus’ promise that, as he came once as a helpless baby to Bethlehem, so he will come again as King and Lord of all to claim every last particle of creation as his own. His promise is there for us in the final verses of the Bible: “Surely I am coming soon.” And in wondering awe and humble reverence, together with believers from every people, language and nation, we reply, “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!” (Revelation 22:20) Let’s say it together: “Amen. Come, Lord Jesus!”

The grace of the Lord Jesus be with you all! Amen.