On the roll of the dice ...
Seventh of Easter
Acts 1.15-17, 21-26; John 17.6-19
She was rather reluctant to go. Only the insistence of her friend persuaded her to share in the prison visiting scheme. They were consigned to a Young Offenders Institution. Those she was to visit
about the same age as herself. Her friend had judged that the young men held there would be rather more enthusiastic about speaking to a pretty young woman than to him. How right he was. Despite her apprehension - at the first locked door she had wanted to run away – she had a great time.
Afterwards driving back in the car she was very quiet. Her friend had seen her confidence and enthusiasm grow in the visiting room - but now she was silent. Eventually she spoke up, "They are just like me, or you," she said. "If things had been different, it could be you or me locked in there."
“If things had been different …”
Last Thursday was Ascension Day – the day that marks the last time the disciples saw the risen Christ. A sad parting? In a sense, perhaps ‘Yes,’ but on the other hand with the parting came a conviction that Christ now reigned with the Father forever. Their beloved leader, teacher, mentor, friend was also now their heavenly King. So perhaps more bewildering than sad – what were they supposed to do, now that they realized the profound significance of Jesus’ life and death?
Ten days later – on the Day of Pentecost – the answer would come with such amazing power and spectacle that they would know for themselves with absolute conviction that they were now Christ’s body on earth. The coming of the Holy Spirit would both convince them of the understanding towards which they were edging and give them the power to live it. But in the meantime they wait –wondering how they could be his witnesses to the ends of the earth, wondering what would become of them without Jesus’ close presence in the way they had experienced it previously, wondering whether this fledgling community of believers could survive.
The believers wait for the coming of the Holy Spirit, and waiting is always so hard. They do what we might expect devout people to do– they pray, regularly and according to the Jewish traditions in which they had been brought up in. They prayed but they also rolled dice. When it came to the decision about who should take the place of the disciple who had proved false –after the praying they decided on the person by the casting of lots. Prayer and the throw of a dice! We might try to rationalize this. ‘Oh,’ we say, ‘they did as their forebears often did when choices were hard – casting lots, deciding by chance draw.’ Perhaps, but this is the only such occasion recorded in the whole of the New Testament, so I wonder whether there’s isn’t something more profound going on here that a mere reversion to ancient practices. Might there not be something here that reflects their general unease with the way they have all behaved as disciples; that suggests they aren’t as sure of themselves and their own capabilities as they once were?
In this waiting time the contrast between two of the disciples bears in on them, and I don't mean Joseph Barsabbas and Mattthias – no the contrast is between but Judas Iscariot and Simon Peter. Both had been chosen by Jesus, yet how different were their fates. "If things had been different…"
Judas surely didn't set out to become a thief and a traitor. Nor did God predestine him to play that role. No, he became a traitor through the choices he himself made. Judas is not especially evil, he’s a personality who can be turned this way or that by circumstances and the choices that come with them. Just like you and me, and Peter. "If things had been different …" Judas too had a dream. But something went wrong, very wrong. What exactly that something was isn’t clear from the gospels. We’re given hints, but that’s all. Like all evil-doers, Judas remains something of an enigma. As the South African novelist Alan Paton put it, 'We don't understand good, so how can we hope or presume to understand evil?'
Judas was not essentially corrupt and evil in his very being – he’s not a devil incarnate. He recognizes something unique and life-giving in Jesus, just as Peter does. His was a genuine calling and a genuine answer to it, just as Peter’s was. Through those years of Jesus’ ministry, he traveled, and listened, and learned, and worried, and struggled, and hoped, and longed for God’s kingdom – just as Peter did, just as they all did. Judas was of the same human stuff as the rest of them, and might have become something very different– just like you or me. "If things had been different …"
When did he finally go over the edge, was there a crucial moment that pushed him – the anointing of Jesus with very expensive ointment is suggested, but doesn’t seem a convincing last straw. Was he really so concerned about the poor? Perhaps it’s more likely that the fall from grace was a gradual thing – incremental, bit by bit, so that he hardly knew that he was changing until it was too late. A gradual slipping, a gradual dimming of the light, a gradual loss of faith, almost imperceptible at first but then it gathers pace. The first step then, as now, probably of no real consequence – you know, the tiny act of cowardice, the little slip, the easy avoidance with which all the most dreadful and hurtful things seem to begin. First steps can be so tantalizingly small, – like the things the young women heard in that Young Offenders Institution – a foolish fight when drunk, a car 'borrowed' from a parent, shop lifting for a dare, something broken in a fit of pique. Those things can't be justified, but in other circumstances an apology and simple restitution might have been the end of it. After all, Peter too failed the Lord. "If things had been different …"
However, there is a huge difference between what Peter did and what Judas did. Judas knew what he was doing. His betrayal was a planned thing, and was carried out in a cold, calculating manner. Somewhere a line is crossed –the impulsive failure or wrong that can be put right turns into planned, calculating malice. Peter's denial was not a planned thing. It was a spur of the moment thing, and was the result of weakness rather than malice. Besides, he repented.
Few people are bad, but many are weak. A person often doesn't fall through weakness but through assumed power and strength. ‘I'm the one above the rules, no one else matters.’ Judas got fixed in that downward spiral where only his outlook and well-being mattered, and in the end that conceit killed him. And those waiting disciples know that, and they know for all their conviction and loyalty that in certain circumstances any one of them might have more like Judas than like Peter. No wonder confidence in choosing a replacement disciple evades them. None of us are infallible, none of us incorruptible. "If things had been different …"
And yet take heart: Peter stumbled too – but he didn't fall. There’s our consolation. Faithfulness doesn't mean we get it right all of the time. God alone is the only one who can judge our intentions at their profoundest level. That's what I take from the casting of lots for the replacement twelfth disciple – the eleven all knew that their own judgement was flawed in many ways so they sought a way of choosing beyond themselves.
God calls each of us to be a witness to his resurrection, that is, to prove to the world by the way we live that he is alive. Not just alive in the world, but alive in us. That's about choices, and faithfulness, and integrity. Sometimes the choices are beyond us; sometimes our confidence decays to dust; sometimes it’s hard to even trust ourselves. We worry that we too will dismally say "If things had been different …" But there is one who calls and trust, who heals and restores, who prays for us. And in whose calling of us we should take heart. Wait and trust – the Holy Spirit will be given to us.
about the same age as herself. Her friend had judged that the young men held there would be rather more enthusiastic about speaking to a pretty young woman than to him. How right he was. Despite her apprehension - at the first locked door she had wanted to run away – she had a great time.
Afterwards driving back in the car she was very quiet. Her friend had seen her confidence and enthusiasm grow in the visiting room - but now she was silent. Eventually she spoke up, "They are just like me, or you," she said. "If things had been different, it could be you or me locked in there."
“If things had been different …”
Last Thursday was Ascension Day – the day that marks the last time the disciples saw the risen Christ. A sad parting? In a sense, perhaps ‘Yes,’ but on the other hand with the parting came a conviction that Christ now reigned with the Father forever. Their beloved leader, teacher, mentor, friend was also now their heavenly King. So perhaps more bewildering than sad – what were they supposed to do, now that they realized the profound significance of Jesus’ life and death?
Ten days later – on the Day of Pentecost – the answer would come with such amazing power and spectacle that they would know for themselves with absolute conviction that they were now Christ’s body on earth. The coming of the Holy Spirit would both convince them of the understanding towards which they were edging and give them the power to live it. But in the meantime they wait –wondering how they could be his witnesses to the ends of the earth, wondering what would become of them without Jesus’ close presence in the way they had experienced it previously, wondering whether this fledgling community of believers could survive.
The believers wait for the coming of the Holy Spirit, and waiting is always so hard. They do what we might expect devout people to do– they pray, regularly and according to the Jewish traditions in which they had been brought up in. They prayed but they also rolled dice. When it came to the decision about who should take the place of the disciple who had proved false –after the praying they decided on the person by the casting of lots. Prayer and the throw of a dice! We might try to rationalize this. ‘Oh,’ we say, ‘they did as their forebears often did when choices were hard – casting lots, deciding by chance draw.’ Perhaps, but this is the only such occasion recorded in the whole of the New Testament, so I wonder whether there’s isn’t something more profound going on here that a mere reversion to ancient practices. Might there not be something here that reflects their general unease with the way they have all behaved as disciples; that suggests they aren’t as sure of themselves and their own capabilities as they once were?
In this waiting time the contrast between two of the disciples bears in on them, and I don't mean Joseph Barsabbas and Mattthias – no the contrast is between but Judas Iscariot and Simon Peter. Both had been chosen by Jesus, yet how different were their fates. "If things had been different…"
Judas surely didn't set out to become a thief and a traitor. Nor did God predestine him to play that role. No, he became a traitor through the choices he himself made. Judas is not especially evil, he’s a personality who can be turned this way or that by circumstances and the choices that come with them. Just like you and me, and Peter. "If things had been different …" Judas too had a dream. But something went wrong, very wrong. What exactly that something was isn’t clear from the gospels. We’re given hints, but that’s all. Like all evil-doers, Judas remains something of an enigma. As the South African novelist Alan Paton put it, 'We don't understand good, so how can we hope or presume to understand evil?'
Judas was not essentially corrupt and evil in his very being – he’s not a devil incarnate. He recognizes something unique and life-giving in Jesus, just as Peter does. His was a genuine calling and a genuine answer to it, just as Peter’s was. Through those years of Jesus’ ministry, he traveled, and listened, and learned, and worried, and struggled, and hoped, and longed for God’s kingdom – just as Peter did, just as they all did. Judas was of the same human stuff as the rest of them, and might have become something very different– just like you or me. "If things had been different …"
When did he finally go over the edge, was there a crucial moment that pushed him – the anointing of Jesus with very expensive ointment is suggested, but doesn’t seem a convincing last straw. Was he really so concerned about the poor? Perhaps it’s more likely that the fall from grace was a gradual thing – incremental, bit by bit, so that he hardly knew that he was changing until it was too late. A gradual slipping, a gradual dimming of the light, a gradual loss of faith, almost imperceptible at first but then it gathers pace. The first step then, as now, probably of no real consequence – you know, the tiny act of cowardice, the little slip, the easy avoidance with which all the most dreadful and hurtful things seem to begin. First steps can be so tantalizingly small, – like the things the young women heard in that Young Offenders Institution – a foolish fight when drunk, a car 'borrowed' from a parent, shop lifting for a dare, something broken in a fit of pique. Those things can't be justified, but in other circumstances an apology and simple restitution might have been the end of it. After all, Peter too failed the Lord. "If things had been different …"
However, there is a huge difference between what Peter did and what Judas did. Judas knew what he was doing. His betrayal was a planned thing, and was carried out in a cold, calculating manner. Somewhere a line is crossed –the impulsive failure or wrong that can be put right turns into planned, calculating malice. Peter's denial was not a planned thing. It was a spur of the moment thing, and was the result of weakness rather than malice. Besides, he repented.
Few people are bad, but many are weak. A person often doesn't fall through weakness but through assumed power and strength. ‘I'm the one above the rules, no one else matters.’ Judas got fixed in that downward spiral where only his outlook and well-being mattered, and in the end that conceit killed him. And those waiting disciples know that, and they know for all their conviction and loyalty that in certain circumstances any one of them might have more like Judas than like Peter. No wonder confidence in choosing a replacement disciple evades them. None of us are infallible, none of us incorruptible. "If things had been different …"
And yet take heart: Peter stumbled too – but he didn't fall. There’s our consolation. Faithfulness doesn't mean we get it right all of the time. God alone is the only one who can judge our intentions at their profoundest level. That's what I take from the casting of lots for the replacement twelfth disciple – the eleven all knew that their own judgement was flawed in many ways so they sought a way of choosing beyond themselves.
God calls each of us to be a witness to his resurrection, that is, to prove to the world by the way we live that he is alive. Not just alive in the world, but alive in us. That's about choices, and faithfulness, and integrity. Sometimes the choices are beyond us; sometimes our confidence decays to dust; sometimes it’s hard to even trust ourselves. We worry that we too will dismally say "If things had been different …" But there is one who calls and trust, who heals and restores, who prays for us. And in whose calling of us we should take heart. Wait and trust – the Holy Spirit will be given to us.
