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Gospel     Matthew 26:14-25

14 Then one of the twelve, who was called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests ¹⁵and said, ‘What will you give me if I betray him to you?’ They paid him thirty pieces of silver. ¹⁶And from that moment he began to look for an opportunity to betray him.17 On the first day of Unleavened Bread the disciples came to Jesus, saying, ‘Where do you want us to make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?’ ¹⁸He said, ‘Go into the city to a certain man, and say to him, “The Teacher says, My time is near; I will keep the Passover at your house with my disciples.” ’ ¹⁹So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them, and they prepared the Passover meal. 20 When it was evening, he took his place with the twelve; ²¹and while they were eating, he said, ‘Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me.’ ²²And they became greatly distressed and began to say to him one after another, ‘Surely not I, Lord?’ ²³He answered, ‘The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with me will betray me. ²⁴The Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.’ ²⁵Judas, who betrayed him, said, ‘Surely not I, Rabbi?’ He replied, ‘You have said so.’

‘Surely not I, Lord?’ You can almost hear the insincerity and smarmy-ness in those words of Judas. Words used to cover his guilt. A guilt that would continue to grow until it overwhelmed him and destroyed him. Betrayal is often wrought by those closest to us. Someone we thought we knew well does something that destroys a relationship. Often, we cannot for the life of us, work out why they did it and I wonder if at times the betrayer also wonders what came over them that led them into betrayal. Betrayal is so often a sad story and one in which neither side benefits from the act.

So it is in this story - a betrayal that led two men to their deaths. In a previous Edinburgh Passion Play this betrayal was explored from the point of view of two mothers. An encounter occurred between Mary and the mother of Judas, after Good Friday. Neither mother was able to fathom why their son was dead.

Why betrayal happens is sometimes never known but in this story the betrayal had to happen in order for Jesus to save us from ourselves and to give us hope in his resurrection. Only in hindsight, though is this apparent. At the time Judas’ betrayal was raw and self-seeking and all destructive of whom it touched. Yet without it we would have no Easter message of hope and a life without hope is no life to contemplate. For our salvation the price was a betrayal and a death on the Cross!

Jesus was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved (John 11: 33)

In the early stages of his life, Rembrandt (1606-69) produced grandiose paintings full of flamboyance. After a period of great anguish, including deaths in his immediate family, and imprisonment for debt, his style changed, showing great sensitivity to human suffering. Many of his numerous paintings on biblical themes, including “Christ Healing and Preaching” (c.1648) reflect this humanity and openness to human pain.

We cannot but be deeply moved and even disturbed in spirit when we see someone in pain and anguish – let alone when a tear is shed.  There is something that touches our hearts and reminds us of our frailty, our vulnerability and even our mortality.

Our gospel reading about the raising of Lazarus, recalls that when Jesus saw Mary weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. As Jesus sees Mary and her comforters crying, the reality of what has happened hits him.

The Greek word which the Authorised Version and Revised Standard Version translate as “deeply moved” in spirit comes from the verb “embrimasthai”.  It is used three other times in the New Testament.  It means to feel something deeply and strongly. It has a certain sternness, almost anger in it.  E V Rieu translates it as “Jesus gave way to such a distress of spirit as made his body tremble”.

The theologian, Jane Williams, comments that “Even though Jesus knows that he is the resurrection and the life, the tears and the loss affect him. This is one of those extraordinary moments when we see into the heart of the paradoxical things Christianity says about God. Jesus is here to demonstrate God’s absolute power of life over death, and yet he reacts as we all do to a life cut short, to the desolation of losing someone we love and sharing the pain of others who mourn him too”.

The compassion Jesus showed in his ministry is nothing less than a revelation of the compassion God shows for each of us.  In him the very heart of God is open and available in human terms. His first followers did not see this immediately but in the light of his resurrection, his earthly life and death were understood to have an eternal significance. It was not only a human life lived for others, but a disclosure of the divine life he lived for the world.

Tom Wright, the former Bishop of Durham and biblical scholar, comments that “when we look at Jesus, not least when we look at Jesus in tears, we are seeing not just a flesh and blood human being but the Word made flesh (John 1:1-14). The Word, through whom the worlds were made, weeps at the grave of his friend. Only when we stop and ponder this will we fully understand this mystery. Only when we put away our high-and-dry pictures of who God is and replace them with pictures in which the Word who is God can cry with the world’s crying will we discover what the word “God” really means”.

As we continue our Lenten journey through into Passiontide and beyond, may we all be aware of that same love and compassion which Jesus had for his friend Lazarus and his beloved sisters, Mary and Martha.

Jesus, you know our needs even before we speak.

We bring them into your healing presence.

Make us sensitive to the needs of others so that we may bring

That same healing presence and power into their lives.

The wee boy was only just five years old. He had been at school for about six months. That Friday afternoon he and the rest of the class had spent a good hour sticking tissue paper petals onto a card. In his best handwriting, he had inscribed the legend:

‘To mummy, Happy Mother’s Day love Dean xxx’

At the end of the afternoon, full of excitement, and trying to remember to keep the card hidden until Sunday morning; he ran across the playground to where his mummy stood. As he got to her, he thrust out his hand with the card and said:

‘Happy Mummy’s Day’

forgetting that it was supposed to be kept for the coming Sunday. My Mum, I think, still has that card kept safe, just as my memories of that afternoon are deeply lodged in my brain cells. Some of you might have similar keepsakes or memories given to you by loved ones, when younger.

The name; ‘mummy, mum, ma, mother, mam, mom’ or whatever form you use or are known by, is a name that is communally shared by the vast majority of the female population of the world. Sometimes it might be a name that is over used or in some cases rejected. Sometimes, it might be a name that a woman has longed to be called but who has never heard it said to her. Sometimes, too, it may be a name no longer said to the person to whom it used to be addressed.

Today, I do not deny, can be a very difficult day for some people both female and male. Not everyone has had a good relationship with their mother, not everyone has known their mother, not everyone who has wanted to be a mother has been able to be one and some mothers are no longer with us. The name mother or mum or whatever can be a name that causes tears and pain, as much as joy and smiles.

There may be also times when a mother does not wish to hear herself called so. Days when the ‘little darlings’ are driving her mad and demanding her attention, when she might actually desire a bit of peace and quiet. I can remember days like that for my mum.

“Mum, mum, dad’s fallen out of the apple tree and cut his head open.”

My sisters and I ran in shouting this and it fell on deaf ears. My mum was fed up with us that afternoon and had decided to turn a deaf ear to us for a while. Only when dad staggered into the kitchen pouring blood did she hear what we were saying!

As children we learned a lot that day. If mum was deaf to the name mum we would catch her out by calling her by her actual name – an unusual one at that; ‘Cosette’. ‘Cosy’ worked too. Poor mum, I realise now that she hardly ever had a minute’s peace.

The image of an ever attentive, ever listening and ever responding mother is a good analogy for the feast we are keeping this morning. Although Mothering Sunday has become associated with our own mother’s (or those who fulfilled that role for us) it is actually to do with Holy Mother Church.

A celebration of the fact that everyone can find a place, within her ever open and welcoming arms. Well, that’s the theory. In practice rules and regulations placed upon the church (often by men) can mean that some people end up being excluded from those loving arms.

The history of the church is at times bloody and cruel. Those within her welcoming confines have sought to keep her to themselves and to make it difficult for others to enter in. For example; when Jesus initiated the Holy Communion he did not say who could and who could not partake of the bread and cup. He shared what he blessed with all of his disciples including Judas. Members of the church, though out the ages have, however, created hoops for those who wish to receive the sacrament, to jump through:

“Are you baptised? Are you confirmed? Are you of good standing with your denomination? Are you a regular at this church? Are you one of us?”

Rather than offering the sacrament to all who gather at Christ’s table, the Church has often tried to make it a members only club, affair. Thankfully we ninth Scottish Episcopal Church are somewhat more relaxed today but we constantly need to examine how open our church is to God’s people. I have stopped being surprised but am still saddened by those out with the church who say to me:

“I’d like to go to church but I am not sure if I am can as I am not a member or if I am allowed.”

The church is not a club but it can often appear to be such to those in the wider world. I wonder what Jesus would make of it all? In fact he might wonder what the Church is as he did not set it up. It was those who followed him who did so. I hope he would see the Church as an institution that at its best is good and wholesome and can offer a loving home to those who wish to follow his ways but I suspect he’d give us all a hard time as to why it is like it is.

As a Church and a Congregation we need to constantly ask ourselves if we put people off coming to Church by the things we say and do.

Do we keep our church to ourselves or do we regularly invite others to join us. Do we decide who is welcome or not? Holy Mother Church has her arms ready to embrace all and any who care to enter into her company.

This Mothering Sunday, with memories of those who have loved and welcomed you in to fellowship both in your lives and in the church, think about who it was who first invited you to church and then think whom you could ask.

Who do you know who might be waiting for an invitation to come to the Good Shepherd? Is it not worth risking them saying; ‘No thanks’ to your invitation in the hope they might actually say; ‘Yes please’? Even if someone asked says; ‘NO’ most of us still like to have been asked. God’s people need to know that they are not excluded from the love of Mother Church or of our God.

Your task is to ask someone to come to church with you. You never know they might actually say; ‘Yes’ and it might change their life.

In many ways John 4:1-41 is a very radical piece of scripture. For a start what is Jesus doing in Samaria?

Jews travelling between Judah and Galilee as Jesus was doing usually went around Samaria not through it, despite the fact that going round it adding six days to the journey.

Secondly, Jews and Jesus was a good Jew, did not normally associate with Samaritans. In fact they hardly acknowledged them let alone talk with them. Because as the Jews saw them the Samaritan version of the faith was compromised, somehow not quite right.

Thirdly who is this woman and why is she at the well during the hottest period of the day?

The Jews so loathed the Samaritans that they preferred to add almost a week to their journeying between different Jewish territories.To the good Jew, Samaria was a tainted country. The Samaritans worshiped the Hebrew God ‘Yahweh’ but they did not believe that he had to be worshiped most especially in Jerusalem. The Samaritans built their temple on Mount Gerizim in Samaria which to the Jerusalem focused Jews made their worship inferior, (inferior not different note). The Jews also disapproved of the fact that the Samaritan version of the Pentateuch was in Aramaic not Hebrew and also the fact that the Samaritans did not acknowledge the poetic books and prophetic writings really put them beyond the pale and I quote:

“The Jews regarded the Samaritans as ignorant, superstitious mongrels, outside God’s favour or consideration.” (Wikipedia)

So in talking to this Samaritan woman Jesus is really defying convention. He is conversing with a heretic woman about the Hebrew faith. He is also challenging convention by talking to a woman any way! For women were not part of God’s chosen people (only free born males were included in that gang). This woman is also rather questionable. Why is she alone at the well in the middle of the day? Is she ‘no better than she ought to be’? Is she a woman of loose morals awaiting a pick up? This is what seems to be implied by John:

She is obviously living in sin! She is also probably going to the well at noon to avoid the mockery and disapproval of other women, who would not approve of her life choices or circumstances. Yet, it is this outcast woman who recognises who Jesus is. She is one of the first to be converted by that knowledge and in her joy she sets out with missionary zeal to convert others:

Jesus recognises in the woman a spiritual thirst and tells her that the water he offers will quench that thirst. He describes the living water welling up inside her and flowing eternally if she can accept his gift of living water, meaning the Holy Spirit. Jesus is also very canny with the woman in his full acceptance of her, as she is. In no way does he condemn her for having had so many husbands and for now cohabiting with another man. Because of this she is so taken aback and continues to express a deep interest what Jesus has to say to her and what he says quite literally overwhelms the woman for Jesus basically says to her:

“I do not care how bad you are, I still want to give you the living water.”

New birth and living water are both terms for receiving the Holy Spirit, the salvation of God. They are gifts freely offered and given once and for all time after one has repented of one’s past sins.

How would you respond to Jesus’ offer?

One of the television programmes we have enjoyed over recent years is Britain’s Lost Masterpieces. The concept is a very simple one. Art Historian Dr Bendor Grosvenor picks out a neglected painting which he thinks might be the work of an important artist and hands it over to Simon Gillespie, a picture restorer. We watch as Simon uses solvents and cotton wool swabs to remove layers of dirty varnish and inept overpainting, before carefully touching up any damage. Once the painting has been restored to something very close to its original state, Dr Grosvenor and other experts are able to arrive at a conclusion about which artist was responsible for the work.

In today’s Gospel Jesus speaks of Nicodemus’ need to be “born from above”. In the King James Bible the passage is translated as “born again” and some Christians have taken that to mean a single and dramatic conversion experience and have even argued, wrongly I think, that you aren’t a proper Christian unless you have had that kind of experience. For some of us, the process is more gradual; perhaps the coming to a maturity in which, bit by bit, we accept and own for ourselves the religious upbringing we have received; perhaps the slow realisation that underlying the church music that we enjoy there is a profound and loving reality. That was the way my godmother, who declared herself to be an atheist shortly after escorting my infant self to the font, came to faith towards the end of her life.

It may be more helpful to think about the meaning of that phrase “born from above” by using picture restoration as a metaphor. As a devout member of the religious establishment, Nicodemus knew the Hebrew Bible. He had read and reflected on the passage in Genesis which teaches that human beings are made in the image and likeness of God. What Jesus is suggesting is that, in Nicodemus, that image and likeness had become obscured, perhaps by the over-confidence that can afflict religious leaders, perhaps by a lack of charity. Nicodemus was in short, like all of us, in need of a clean-up, in need of the kind of restoration that would reveal in him the image and likeness of his Creator.

Pictures cannot restore themselves to their original splendour, and neither can we by our own unaided efforts. That is the point that St Paul is making in today’s Epistle, when he makes a distinction between works and faith. It is only by placing our trust in God’s ability to cleanse and restore us that the cleansing and restoration become possible. And Lent is a time when we are reminded of that need for trust, a time to open ourselves by prayer and reflection to the grace of God and to the cleansing and restoration that God’s grace makes possible.

Jesus then goes on to say some very challenging things to Nicodemus, and the challenges reach a climax with these words:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”

It’s a verse which is often read in an “us and them” way – “believe in Jesus and you’ll go to heaven, fail to believe in Jesus and you will be damned.”

And that’s a reading which can very easily turn into the kind of religious comfort zone out from which Jesus was trying to draw Nicodemus. The purpose of God’s self-giving, universal and unconditional love is to evoke from human beings a love of exactly the same kind. And Christians do not have a monopoly on that kind of love. As Archbishop William Temple put it:

“Whatever promotes among men love and joy and peace has its source in that divine love which sent the Son into the World, not to judge the world, but that the world may be saved through him.”

The world, not just individual Christians. And the Greek word which is translated as “the world” is kosmos – suggesting the whole of creation.

When St Athanasius, that great fourth century Christian thinker, wanted to explain the reason for the Incarnation, for God’s giving of his only Son, he turned to the idea of picture restoration. Suppose, he suggested, that the portrait of someone is so badly damaged that it is impossible to restore it unless that person can be traced and can sit as a model for the restorer. That is what had happened to humankind.

The image and likeness of God had become so overpainted with selfishness and greed that human beings had lost sight of it in themselves and in other people. Until, that is, Jesus came to show us that image and likeness in reality, in his words and actions and in his Passion and to give us an understanding of what God intends us to be. If we respond to that reality, then God’s work of restoration can proceed.

Athanasius put it like this:

“Even the wood on which the artist painted is not thrown away, but the outline is renewed upon it; in the same way also, the most holy Son of the Father, came to our region to renew humanity once made in his likeness.”

A thought that John Keble took up when he wrote the hymn Blest are the pure in heart.

“The Lord who left the heavens

Our life and peace to bring,

To dwell in lowliness with us,

Our pattern and our King.”