I have always been fascinated by revolutionary figures; people who have caught the world’s imagination and changed the course of humanity, both for good and for ill. Jesus was and is the archetypical example. As a teenager, I was rivetted by Alan Bullock’s biography of Adolf Hitler, upon which I shall not dwell. A few months ago, I bought a copy of a biography of Che Guevara; and here it is. Like the Gospels, it contains a biography and a message. Jesus’ active ministry is said to have lasted two or three years. Guevara’s lasted ten; from 1957 until his death in 1967. In my Bible [NRSV], the Gospels take up 126 pages; roughly 76,000 words. This biography of Che Guevara contains 754 pages or roughly 302,000 words. I make no comment this morning on the contents; the truth is that I haven’t found time to read it yet. But my point is clear, I hope. It is the intensity, the concentrated nature of the Gospels that fascinates. This morning’s reading from St John’s Gospel exemplifies this. In just four verses it touches upon four theologically complex themes; Resurrection; God’s Peace or Shalom; the Holy Spirit; and Absolution. A separate sermon could be preached on each; indeed, much more can be said about each of them than can be packed into a sermon of tolerable length. So you’ll be relieved to learn that I am going to be selective. I have chosen to say a few words about the theme that has aroused and continues to arouse controversy within the ranks of the Christian faithful; namely Absolution. 

Apart from the Passion narrative, one struggles to discover points of similarity between John’s Gospel on the one hand; and the synoptic Gospels upon the other; but we find accounts of Jesus bestowing authority to absolve upon his apostles in Matthew’s Gospel. In our reading this morning, Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit into the disciples and says; ‘Whosoever sins ye remit, they are remitted unto them”. In Matthew 16, Jesus announces that Simon Peter is the rock upon which his church will be built; and then, ‘I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven, and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth will be loosed in heaven’; and the declaration is repeated a little later in Matthew 18.

The authority bestowed by Jesus in these scenes is the authority to pardon offences or to forgive sins, whichever phrase you prefer. In other words, it is the power to reverse what God did to Adam and Eve when he expelled them from the Garden of Eden. Sin separates us from God; it causes a breakdown in our relationship with God. If I wrong my wife, my relationship with her is fractured. However, if I apologise to her and she accepts my apology, then our relationship is mended. But what about my relationship with God? I can say sorry to God, but how do I know whether my apology has been accepted? That’s what troubled the Jews. They never knew whether they were really at one with God; so they engaged in sacrifices and sent scapegoats off into the desert in the hope of appeasing God’s anger with them for their sinfulness. It was all a bit hit and miss. The difficulty was that only God could forgive sin. That’s what upset the Pharisees about Jesus. When he healed a paralytic with the words, ‘Friend, your sins are forgiven you’ [Luke 5:20]; the Pharisees complained; ‘Who is this who is speaking blasphemies? Who can forgive sins but God alone?’ [ibid 5:21]. Christians believe that Jesus was and is God; so he had the power to forgive sins; but upon his departure from this world as a human being, this priceless benefit would be lost. Jesus resolved the dilemma that had faced the Jews by authorising his disciples to exercise his divine and exclusive power to forgive a person’s sins and to restore that person’s relationship with God. The power belonged to God and so its delegation was in his exclusive gift. A central truth of our Easter faith is that he did delegate it; and so enabled each one of us to be redeemed and to be re-assured that we are.

So when some folk, usually from a non-conformist tradition, argue that priests are unnecessary; rejecting their role as interveners in the relationship between God and the faithful, they expressly reject this central truth about Christianity. Today’s priest is vested with the same authority as the disciples in succession to whom he or she stands; the very same disciples to whom Jesus delegated his power to forgive sins on the very evening of the day of his Resurrection as we have heard this morning. The Christian priest is neither an obstacle nor an unwelcome interloper, but a bridge and a mediator between God and the faithful. Of course, I am not saying that, from time to time, the privilege of priesthood is not abused; priests, like the disciples, are only human; sinners like the rest of us. But to argue that they are unnecessary misunderstands the very nature of Jesus’ mission; and of the unique role of the Christian priest in his divine scheme. And, of course, the priest brings with him shalom, God’s peace, as Jesus did on that same evening to his troubled followers.