Easter VII | The Sunday after the Ascension, Yr. B

Acts, 1:15-26
1 John, 5:9-15
John, 17:11b-19

+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

S. Matthew tells us that when Judas saw that Jesus had been condemned, he repented of betraying him and gave the chief priests and elders the thirty pieces of silver. He acknowledge his sin, but the chief priests shrugged it off and said, "What is it to us?" Rejected, overcome with guilt and shame, full of remorse, Judas went and hanged himself. (Mt 27:3-5) His suicide is a great sadness; it diminishes the possibility of reconciliation. Our Lord's mercy knows no bounds, only those we choose to put in his way. In a way, Judas' suicide is a metaphor for all who reject our Lord. Turning our back on God is an act of self-judgment and despair, an act rejecting the gift of life and creation. When we don't allow God in our lives, we are rejecting the fulness of life. Jesus did not condemn Judas, and my hope is that Judas will be in heaven. But in this world, Judas condemned himself; he cut himself off from life, from God.

We are not to judge, but indulge me a little speculation. I guess that Judas' suicide was a graver sin than his betrayal. Every human being betrays God. S. Peter betrayed Jesus, denying him three times. We come to mass because we have at least some inkling of our betrayal, our unpleasantness, our sin. We come for healing and to receive forgiveness. My bet is that Judas didn't fully understand the extent of our Lord's forgiveness, a forgiveness that extends to anything we do, even suicide. No one is beyond God's mercy. Judas doubted the goodness of God.

I also think that Judas misunderstood Jesus' ministry. 'Iscariot' may be a Greek word referring to a 'dagger-bearer.' Judas as the dagger-bearer seems to fit in well with S. Luke's description of Judas' death in this morning's lesson: "falling headlong, he burst asunder in the midst, and all of his bowels gushed out." Grisly stuff. It sounds more like hara-kiri, more like the work of a dagger, than a hanging. "The 'dagger-bearers' were a band of violent nationalists who were prepared to undertake assassination and murder in a campaign to set Palestine free [from Roman rule.] Perhaps, Judas saw in Jesus the very person who could lead the nationalists to triumph." ⁽¹⁾ Perhaps, once Judas began to understand that Jesus' kingdom was not of this world, then Judas betrayed him out of disappointment. Or even more likely, Judas may not have meant for Jesus to die, but rather he betrayed Jesus to force his hand, to get Jesus to begin his rebellion against the civil authorities. ⁽²⁾ If so, we can add to his sins that of trying to make God something he's not. Again, each of us can see that in ourselves.

Judas' death left a vacancy among the Twelve. The Church initially thought she needed twelve apostles, just as Israel had twelve tribes. The Church would figure out soon thereafter that she would need more apostles as she began to grow. Instead of calling them apostles, they became known as overseers, or bishops. In considering who to fill the vacancy left by Judas, S. Peter says it should be someone who has been with Jesus during his ministry, someone who knows Jesus, and someone who will witness to his resurrection. Those are the bare qualifications of an apostle, and they remain essential qualities of the Apostolic Mission.

If you are already a little sick of the posturing and preening and cynicism of the 2004 Presidential election, then you may appreciate the apostles' method of selecting a new apostle, the casting of lots. The means, however, is not most important. What should impress us is that the replacement of Judas with S. Matthias shows us God establishing a means to continue to care for his Church and to provide order for his Church. The Church needs leadership, and God provides it. The selection of Matthias is a crucial moment in the history of the Apostolic Succession, which is a key to the life of the Church, to the existence of Christian civilisation. The Church is not going to die out because God regenerates her by providing an ever renewing authority.

I have authority to offer the mass because a bishop ordained me and directs me to do so, and our bishops today have a direct, unbroken connection to the apostles chosen by Jesus nearly two thousand years ago. This means that we have an organic and visible link to Jesus. As early as the first century, S. Clement of Rome emphasized the necessity for Christian communities to have bishops appointed by other bishops in the apostolic line reaching back to Jesus. According to S. Clement, S. Athanasius, S. Augustine, and all the great early Church fathers, the Apostolic Succession assured the Church's fidelity to Jesus and provided the basis for unity.

Unfortunately, the unity of the Church has suffered through the ages, and so her fidelity to Christ. The Church is not as whole as she ought to be, and that diminishes her ability to witness to the reality of the resurrection. Our disunity hurts our credibility. We may not agree on everything with Christians of other flavors, be they Lutherans, Romans, Baptists, Bible churchers, whatever, even fellow Episcopalians, and their forms of worship may not be to our preference, but we have to respect them and honour them. If we don't, we injure the Church's witness to the resurrection. We can't look for what divides us, but what unites us.

One thing is sure. People are starving for Gospel. What are they getting instead? The world plays to our insecurities, that we don't look good enough, that we aren't smart enough, that we aren't strong enough, that we aren't rich enough, that we aren't young enough. It's tiring, and what is more than tiring is that it warps our expectations and encourages discontentment. It makes us feel inadequate. If you know Christ, you know all of that a fraud. God loves us as we are. Christ gives us peace of mind about ourselves.

Margaret Atwood notices that there are two ways to use the word 'more.'

The first is of course the echoing 'more' pronounced by Oliver Twist when he is being starved in a foundlings' home by venal officials. That 'more' is the legitimate response to 'not enough.' It's the 'more' of real need, and only the hardhearted and wickedly self-righteous Mr. Bumbles of this world can be outraged by it. The second 'more' is in the film Key Largo, in the remarkable exchange between the Humphrey Bogart hero character and the Edward G. Robinson evil crook. The crook is asked what he wants, and he doesn't know. Humphrey knows, however. "He wants more," he says. And this is what the crook does want: more, and more than he can possibly use; or rather, more than he can appreciate, dedicated as he is to mere accumulation and mere power. ⁽³⁾Christians ought to be different. The power knowing Christ is understanding that we have enough. We need nothing more than being in relation to him, being in him. That is what we have to tell people.

We tell that to people when we invite them to church and welcome them to church. We have to be as inviting and as welcoming to new people as God is as inviting and as welcoming to us. We need to be sensitive to how difficult and intimidating it can be for people to come into a church, especially a church like this. It's a beautiful space, but it's intimidating. This building speaks a language fewer and fewer people understand. It's grand and imposing, and more and more, it's unlike other buildings. We have to respect and admire every seeker who walks in here. For they are being more courageous, more open-minded than we appreciate. We have to be warm and put them at ease. The way we treat people, especially in church, is a way for them to know God's love, a way for them to know that they are not inadequate, but appreciated and loved. Disunity, hard-heartedness, fussiness hurt Christ's mission. Our common purpose in this parish is not some snooty sense of what is the right way to worship; it is not some petty squabbles and differences with other Christians; it is not some shared dislikes and prejudices; it is not some sense of exclusivity. Nothing could be more depressing; nothing could be more un-Christian. The common purpose of this parish is to include and to unite all people in God's love and forgiveness. Our purpose is to build up the Church. Our purpose is to grow as children of God, learning to love and respect one another and all people. For that is the apostolic mission.

In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.

1. William Barclay, The Acts of the Apostles, The Westminster Press (1976), p. 16.

2. Ibid.

3. Margaret Atwood, 'Arguing Against Ice Cream,' The New York Review of Books, 12 June 2003, p. 6.