Are you happy to be a mystery?

Yesterday was the Festival of St Matthias. (I intended to blog about this yesterday…but like Matthias it’s late)

Some argue that the Matthias, who was chosen to replace Judas Iscariot (read Acts 1:12-26), was the wrong choice. The Apostle Paul should have taken up the 12^th spot – his works evidence this, surely?

But I’m quite uncomfortable with this marginalisation…after all do we hear about the other Judas after Pentecost (where Matthias is counted amongst the 11 stood with Peter (Acts 2:14), or Thomas, or Andrew…do we have any records in the Bible of the activity of these other disciples? No. We rely on tradition, myth, legend and hearsay in most cases.

So as I wandered about yesterday, chewing over this mysterious character of Matthias I wondered about what he did? What sort of person was he?

Well we know that he knew Jesus personally, from the beginning of His earthly ministry until his resurrection appearances. A witness. Paul – does not fit this criteria – he was not present from the off…

That’s all we know…

The problem, of course, is that Judas Iscariot also knew Jesus – very personally – he kissed him after all!

So what is it about this particular type of knowing Jesus that sets the disciples apart? What’s the difference between a Matthias or a Judas?

Maybe the lack of information is quite deliberate on God’s part…maybe differences in character are hard to explain and discern…for example I cannot explain why my little boy is so happy, so relaxed when placed in the care of others – unlike our friends’ children who are agitated and upset when in the care of others…

Perhaps it’s God, or DNA, or whether or not we’re hungry or thirsty, or our nature, or our nurture…who knows?

Matthias died – just like Judas – just like you and I will also. But legend has it that he was martyred. Indeed, non-Biblical sources suggest that 10 of the original 12 disciples were also martyred (James, the brother of John’s is in Acts!).

Is that the difference, perhaps? That they followed Jesus – his words and deeds.

I like the mystery of Matthias. The uncertainty…

During the course of yesterday I met with the Bishop of Bradford. Afterwards I thought about my conduct. I felt as though I had been myself. I also spoke to colleagues in Sheffield yesterday, including some strangers.

And as I thought about the bishop’s position of authority and status, I was reminded of the poem, ‘If’ by Rudyard Kipling – a poem I used to be able to recite.

I mention this because as I thought about Matthias’ character, his experience, and his ultimate martyrdom the poem’s motif of being yourself, being true to your cause, and doing your best made me think – if I imagine an apostle, do I imagine a perfect person? – no, look at Peter – but I think of men of God…laying down their nets, their jobs, and following…and as Matthias had been there since the start – he too had shared in this following. When the apostles were dispersed they went to the crowds, the rich and the poor, and they faced whatever God had in store for them.

And do it with no one knowing, for sure, how they did it. A rumour. A mystery.

As we prepare for Ascensiontide and Pentecost we must ask a tough question – am I a Judas or a Matthias? Am I known for knowing Jesus? Am I standing with others who witness? Am I following Jesus – to the very end?

If you can keep your head when all about you

 Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
 But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
 Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
 And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;

 If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
 And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
 Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
 And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings

 And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
 And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
 To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
 Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,

 Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
 If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
 With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
 And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!