by Rev Paul Graham
I was slightly taken aback recently when watching, with Vicky, an edition of the BBC television show “Between The Covers” and one of the guests confessed (if that’s the right word) that they always read the last page of any book prior to starting it. Not the blurb on the back, but the actual final page of the text.
Now, like me, you might be surprised by this revelation, having previously been unaware that someone could have such flagrant disregard to the linear nature of reading. Or you might be one of them as well, and don’t know what the fuss is all about. At least you will know whether the end justifies the commitment of getting there by toiling through the intervening pages of text.
Well, the fuss, since you put it that way, is in spoiling any surprises at the end of the story. What is the point, you might ask, of reading all about a gripping murder mystery if you already know that the butler did it? What price the sting in the tail, the unexpected denouement when it can be anticipated before we can expect anything else? Surely something is lost by knowing the end of the story even before you’ve met the first character, or appreciated the sweat and toil of the author’s efforts to come up with the perfect opening sentence.
But surely we’re as guilty in church of a similar thing, as we move once again through the calendar of familiar stories and readings that pepper our Sunday services. The vast majority of us know that the announcement of the birth of Christ will result in the shepherds’ visit to Bethlehem and the presentation of the gifts, without considering seriously the possibility of still-birth or any number of pregnancy-related risks that all expectant parents spend sleepless nights worrying about. And, at times, experience the pain and trauma of these coming true. But we are annually reassured that Mary did indeed give birth, because from the beginning of the story we know the end.
This is also true of this time of year. Accelerating through Jesus’ largely unrecorded childhood and early adulthood, through his earthly ministry, to join him on his journey to the cross, we are rapidly approaching Lent as this edition of the magazine is published. But even as we will shortly be spending time reflecting on Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem, institution of communion at the Last Supper and subsequent betrayal by Judas, those of us familiar with the Easter story know that the pain of crucifixion will be supplanted by the glory of resurrection just a few short days later.
So, just stop a moment and consider. In one way, we are forced to stop and take stock, because this magazine’s lifespan only covers us to the days leading up to Palm Sunday. It will be left to the next edition of Fellowship Matters to cover the period up to and beyond Easter Sunday. Therefore, by keeping to the boundaries set by this, let’s pretend that we don’t know what happens next (or read ahead in the Gospels to find out) and enter the world of “now” as the disciples would have seen it.
On the road towards Jerusalem, they would have known that they would be facing huge challenges ahead. Jesus had already caused consternation with the various healings that he had been performing over the years (read about those in all four Gospels). It had really come to a head over the raising of Lazarus from the dead (read all about that in John 11), an event that took place only a few miles from the city that Jesus and his friends were now heading.
Jerusalem, the city that stood for what was both the best and worst of life at the time. The centre of worship to YAHWEH (the Hebrew God – a good thing) but also a place of corruption, menace and threat from both Jewish puppet leaders and their Roman overloads (a bad thing). Jerusalem, once the great capital and seat of the legendary King David, now seen as a bit of an embarrassment, a faded jewel in someone else’s crown.
Into this uncertain future walks Jesus and his permanently bewildered followers. Each of them have their own story to tell: of redemption and second chances, of transformation and forgiveness, of fishing and tax collecting in the past. Each of them have stories yet to be told, of betrayal and desertion, of denial and restoration, but these are yet to happen.
Today, they are on the road. Today, they will stop and eat. Today, they will continue to ask questions of Jesus and themselves. Today, they will walk towards Jerusalem. We may know what happens next, but they don’t. Yet.
And what about you? What have you done so far today? Who have you met with, eaten with, walked with (literally or metaphorically)? You know no more of what tomorrow will bring than the disciples did on their way to Jerusalem.
But, like them, you do have Jesus, who knows, as an Old Testament prophet once said, “the end from the beginning” (Isaiah 46:10). We have someone who walks with us, asking us questions of ourselves and of himself, committed to us on our way into the uncertainty of the future. Turn each page with him…
