A few years ago, in outback New South Wales…

a stock contractor—

who also runs a rodeo—

saved a group of horses that was destined for the knackery.

Among them was a large, heavy-breed gelding—

by the name of “Deets”—

with a completely unflappable personality…

which made him unsuitable for the rodeo.

But, as it turned out, he’s a Waler—

that is, the breed of Australian horse that was used by the original Light Horse brigades…

the lighter ones as calvary mounts…

and the heavier ones for haulage, pulling ambulances and heavy artillery guns.

They were admired and renowned for their strength and endurance…

especially in the harsh conditions of Palestine and Sinai.

Luckily, his new owner is also a member of a local Light Horse re-enactment group.

So, nowadays, Deets—

along with a number of other specially trained horses—

are kept busy attending ANZAC festivities in outback and country towns…

helping to remind people of the role that horses played in the Great War.

As one trainer from the Light Horse re-enactment movement put it…

“A lot of horses came from the country areas…and they were part of families and working stations and they never came back…So we’ve gotta remember them too…their sacrifice”.

 

In and around ANZAC Day, there’s always a lot of talk about “sacrifice”.

Normally, of course, it refers to the young soldiers—

many of whom were still in their teens—

and the sense is that they gave their lives for a “greater cause”…

even if, in the case of the First World War, it was largely for “king and country”—

perhaps, with a smattering of nascent nationalism thrown in—

rather than about actually saving our country from being invaded.

But they certainly went believing that they were fighting—

and dying—

for a greater cause.

And it’s in that sense that we talk of their sacrifice.

But what about the horses that were sent to war…

and were killed?

They certainly didn’t have a choice in the matter.

So, it wasn’t a case that they made a sacrifice.

Rather, they were sacrificed.

And while there’s something noble and honourable about sacrificing yourself for another person…

or for something you believe in…

or for “the greater good”…

it’s altogether different to sacrifice something or someone else.

 

Of course, ANZAC Day isn’t the only day that we talk about sacrifice.

In fact, it’s a common theme for much of April usually…

given that ANZAC Day always falls during the Easter season…

when, naturally, in the Christian tradition, it’s usual to reflect upon Jesus’ sacrifice.

And while there’s an undeniable sense in which he willingly gave his life for others—

and for the greater good—

so much theological reflection over the years has focussed, rather, on the assumption that he was sacrificed:

sent by God to die in our place…

paying the penalty for our “sin”…

without which we couldn’t be forgiven…

and without which we wouldn’t spend eternity in heaven.

Now, I have said it before—

and I’ll repeat it till the day that I die—

such a theology is a blasphemous distortion.

It seriously misconstrues the nature and purpose of God…

and how God relates to humankind.

 

And yet…

at first glance…

our reading this morning from First Peter seems to support that whole reconstruction…

doesn’t it?

“You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your ancestors…with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without defect or blemish”. 

I mean…

cobble together words like “ransom”, “blood”, and “lamb”…

and, like Pavlov’s dogs, we instinctively start to salivate the old “penal substitutionary” theology.

But that’s not what the author is talking about.

And we have a strong clue to that effect in our opening verse:

“live in reverent fear” or, better, ‘awe’, “during the time of your exile”. 

The language here, of “exile” along with that of “ransomed” speaks of a very different tradition.

This is language that’s specifically drawn from traditions surrounding the Israelites in Egypt…

and the Exodus.

The mention of the blood of a lamb…

in that context…

is about the Passover—

of the people of Israel being spared and rescued from bondage and slavery;

being set free;

and being led to a promised land of their own.

Now, granted, there’s something still very primitive…

and unseemly about all of that—

from a modern perspective—

but it’s a very different way of understanding what’s going on.

In particular, there’s nothing here about any sacrifice for sin…

and nothing about penalties or punishment.

In his theological reflection upon the Easter event…

the author of First Peter suggests that it was about God freeing us from a life of bondage and slavery—

in this case from bondage and slavery to “the futile ways inherited from your ancestors”;

in other words…

freeing us from all of the futility and pointlessness of the self-serving… 

self-seeking… 

and self-destructive tendencies that we normally exhibit…

left to our own devices—

with the hope and expectation that we would…

one day…

enter into our own ‘promised land’.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

In the meantime—

in a way that the original Israelites failed to do during their wilderness experience—

we are called to see ourselves…

now… 

as “born anew”—

in other words, with the slate wiped clean…

with the chance to start over and do it right;

we are called to live appropriately…

responding to God’s mercy and graciousness…

in the way that we act.

 

And what, according to the author, does that entail?

 

It means, showing “genuine mutual love” towards one another.

 

As the author of First Peter unpacks it…

the Easter event was not, first and foremost, about me and God—

about my sin…

my forgiveness…

and my eternal destiny.

Rather, the Easter event was about us, as a community of faith…

living out and fulfilling…

what the original aim and intent of the people of Israel was meant to be…

namely, that together—

through who we are as a community…

and how we live—

people would see, and know, and experience the mercy…

the graciousness…

and the love of God;

and in seeing, knowing, and experiencing that…

that they too would live lives of deep, genuine, mutual love towards one another.

 

In the end…

the aim and goal of the Easter event…

was not directed at alleviating individual, existential angst.

It was, rather, aimed at a greater good…

namely…

the complete transformation of human society…

such that it might embrace and embody—

even emulate—

the genuine and impartial love of God…

demonstrated, supremely, in the self-sacrificial death of Jesus Christ.

The ultimate aim and goal of the Easter event is that we…

together…

would become Christ-like.

That—

and that alone—

is all that matters.