Southwell Minster, 1stApril 2018
Easter Morning (Mark 16v1-8 Acts 10:34-43)
Over the past year or so we’ve got rather used to the concept of fake news. If it wasn’t so often harmful we could treat it as the perfect April Fool, like the famous BBCspaghetti tree hoax in 1957.
But this past month or so in the wake of the nerve agent attack in Salisbury we’ve been introduced to the idea of ‘plausible deniability’. This refers to circumstances where someone can plausibly deny an allegation or wrong doing even though there is a weight of evidence pointing to the truth of the matter. They can refuse to take responsibility or face the consequences until the evidence is explicitly proven.
The recent attack on the UK was a shockingviolation of international law. But Putin’s Kremlin is not the only state to adopt this line of response; it lies behind the broad approach to much espionagejustified as a necessary lie in the national interest.Whatever you make of it, the Easter story confronts two substantial issues of ‘plausible deniability’ at a more deeply personal level: facing the reality of sin and death.
The women who came early to the tomb are told: “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, crucified he has been raised.” Mark sweeps together the cross and resurrection as one event in two intricately linked parts. And his gospel ends as abruptly as it began. Chapter 1 v1 opened:“The beginning of the good news about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God”.
And sixteen galloping chapters laterMark concludes with the announcement “He has risen and will soon appear to Peter and the others.”In all the early manuscripts he signs off with the women running from the tomb astonished and terrified. For Mark doesn’t want to diminish the more challenging implications of the gospel.
Jesus life, death and resurrection is confrontational and we do it no service when we dress Jesus up as someone altogether meek and mild. Mark closes his Gospel in a way that is meant to unsettle the hearer and force a response. We cannot brush it off as a pleasant story filled with sweet spiritual truths, rather it exposes our own well-worn habits of plausible deniability, above all in relation to sin and death.
If Christ died for sins once and for all, becoming a ransom for many, then the gospel exposes the uncomfortable truth about our inner rebellion. We may prefer to view our sin as the logical consequence of our environment and upbringing, or as the little shortcomings and misdemeanours that make us delightfully human.But as CS Lewis bluntly put it, ‘We are a factory of excuses.’
Let’s put some flesh on this point: When was the last time you had a judgmental thought or said something judgmental about another person? Because Jesus said, ‘Do not judge that you be not judged.’
How have you done on this over the past week? What about since coming into the Minster this morning? Or possibly since I started this sermon?
It may seem a small thing but we know it causes such destruction, to diminish or demolish another person with only a glance or few words. ‘Plausible deniability’ can be so much easier than facing the reality about ourselves. And this isn’t about making us feel bad, God is not interested in that.
The gospel says you are more sinful and flawed than you ever dared believe, but more accepted and loved than you ever dared hope. We are broadly content with the second part of this statement, but our culture and conscience will put up a fierce fight before accepting a diagnosis that offends our carefully constructed image of ourselves.
And we shouldn’t be too quick to knock the Facebook generation, there’s nothing new about the insecurities it uncovers;it has just opened up new avenues toa wider audience. The gospel of Jesus doesn’t present an antidote that pushes us towards self-loathing but sets us free to bemore self-forgetful and centred towards the needs of others.
‘Nothing in my hands I bring, simply to the cross in cling’, is not how most of us would prefer it to be. Our pride cannot stand it. But Archbishop William Temple is nothing but straight forward when he said, ‘the only thing of my very own I contribute to my salvation is my sin’.
The second area of plausible deniability confronted by the gospel of Jesus is the stark finality of death.
Our 21st century preoccupation with satisfying all my desires now means we prefer to avoid the subject of death; it has become the forbidden topic to raise in polite company.
The writer John Ortberg explains that our modern world deals with the cruel reality of death in three basic ways.
First of all there are those who try to dilute the poisonous nature of this subject with humour. If you can laugh about death then maybe it will not seem so terribly final. Like Woody Allen, who famously said, ‘I’m not afraid of death, I just don’t want to be there when it happens’.
Then there’s another way people cope with death which is with careless indifference. Like the kind of person who says, ‘I can’t do anything to prevent it happening, so there’s really no point in thinking about it.’
This approach to death is a fairly modern feature of our western culture. You only have to go back one or two generations and many Christian parents would have tucked their children into bed at night with a prayer that began,
Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take.
That is not a particularly cheery way to send a child off to sleep! Yet people used to teach this to their children because they wanted them to know that death is real but it’s not the end.
And that leads us to the third way some people deal with the prospect of death – with bleak resignation:
I don’t know if you recognise the name Mel Blanc? He was the voice behind all of the cartoon characters in Loony Tunes. At the end of every movie, Porky Pig would come on the screen, and always say the same thing: ‘That’s all folks!’
Mel Blanc died in 1989. Can you guess what his family put on his tombstone? ‘That’s all folks!’ This really is the most important human question that can ever be asked: Which is true ‘Jesus Christ is risen from the dead’ or ‘That’s all folks!’?
In Mark 16 the angel announces to the women ‘Jesus, the crucified is risen.’ The sin of the world has been paid for in full, death has been defeated. And so from this point on, for the Christian, death is just a change of address.
One day we will experience a new kind of life that is more wonderful than we could ever imagine. The apostle Paul writes, “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, nor the human heart conceived, what God has prepared for those who love him.” (1 Corinthians 2 v9).
The gospel of Jesus is still confronting people today. ‘Can you be sure where you are going when you die? Will you trust Jesus to be with you in life and in death?’ We don’t need to hide behind the humour, or force ourselves to be carelessly indifferent, we don’t need to shudder at the finality of ‘That’s all folks!’ Jesus says, ‘simply trust me.’
In a world filled with increasing uncertainty and fear we celebrate today a message of full forgiveness and abundant life offered freely to everyone: this is the deep love of the cross and the bright hope of Easter morning.
‘Plausible deniability’ is still open to us, but it is no way for nations to conduct themselves and no way for souls to be set free. And this is why we declare today with confidence, humility and unalloyed joy:‘Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!’
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