There’s a new Australian film that has just opened in our cinemas.

It’s called “Nitram”.

Now, without going into any real details of the film itself…

or the fairly harsh reviews that it has been receiving from film critics––

notwithstanding the award that it won at the Cannes Film Festival––

it’s a film about the life of the Port Arthur gunman;

and seeks to portray the events leading up to that dreadful massacre…

in which, if you recall, thirty-five people were killed…

and twenty-two were wounded…

at the historical site in Tasmania.

Not coincidentally…

those events took place twenty-five years ago.

The film, itself, doesn’t depict the massacre at all.

But when news of it being made broke in Tasmania… 

it was met with anger and outrage.

The Tasmanian Government refused to cooperate.

For many Tasmanians––

who lived through that period––

their emotions about it all are still too raw.

And yet, the overwhelming response seems to have been…

rather…

why?

Why do we need a film about this?

 

The film’s director suggests that he saw it as a chance to make an “anti-gun film”.

And some have suggested that, as such, it may be aimed much more for the American market…

where an anti-gun message is certainly needed… 

and where it might have more of an impact.

But, on the question of “why?”…

the writer of the screenplay argues that “evil repeats itself if we don’t shine a light on it and examine it”.

Ironically, of course, in so shining a light… 

we invite similarly unstable people to emulate such deeds.

After all, the Port Arthur gunman was motivated…

at least in part… 

by the media coverage of the Dunblane school massacre in Scotland…

which occurred only a month earlier.

But, yes, it is important to examine why evil deeds happen…

and what can be done to prevent them from happening again.

But, as one commentator pointed out, haven’t we already done that in Australia?

Not long after the shooting…

then Prime Minister John Howard––

and, for that, I will give him credit––

got the state leaders together and passed sweeping gun laws:

banning certain types of weapons…

destroying over a million guns…

and making it harder to get a gun licence.

Because we did examine what happened…

back then…

and what could be done about it…

there have been no more Port Arthurs in this country.

 

But…

sadly…

so often in our world…

and throughout human history…

it’s only been because of some horrific event––

a tragic accident…

a natural disaster…

a pandemic…

or a senseless act of depravity––

which has resulted in the loss of life…

that, as a society, we have stopped…

reflected…

and tried to do things differently.

And, for many people of faith…

Jesus’ dreadful death is often seen in those sorts of terms.

Leaving aside some of the grosser theological interpretations that are drawn––

and the blasphemous implications that they make regarding the nature of God––

the death of Jesus is normally interpreted as…

in a sense…

a necessary evil from which good has resulted.

 

Once again…

in our reading this morning from the Book of Hebrews…

the focus is on Jesus as our heavenly High Priest.

And, once again, we’re offered the comforting image that… 

as High Priest…

Jesus is constantly in God’s presence interceding for us…

constantly reminding God about our plight…

about what it means to be human––

and what it means to suffer––

and pleading with God on our behalf.

But what’s different… 

here… 

in this morning’s reading…

is the idea that Jesus’ high-priesthood is permanent or eternal…

and that it has superseded that of the old order of Israel’s priesthood.

In large part––

the author argues––

that’s because the priests of old continually offered sacrifices…

indeed, he suggests, “day after day”.

Jesus…

on the other hand…

offered one sacrifice…

“once for all when he offered himself”.

And, indeed, the author of Hebrews…

much more than any of the other authors of the New Testament…

seems to affirm the importance of Jesus’ death as a sacrifice. 

But, that said, it’s important to note…

there’s no sense here of Jesus’ death as some sort of substitution;

there’s no sense here that Jesus died in our place… 

to pay a penalty to God for our sin…

which God demanded in order for us to be forgiven…

and which we couldn’t pay ourselves.

Rather, the author’s imagery here is firmly drawn from the Old Testament…

and the operation of the Jerusalem Temple.

There, animals were sacrificed…

not in a substitutionary sense…

but in a representative sense.

It’s a fine distinction, but it’s an important one.

Sacrifice in the Jerusalem Temple was a symbolic, ritualised, purificatory act.

There was no penal aspect to it.

And we need to understand what the author says in that context.

He understands Jesus’ sacrificial death within a ritual system of purification.

 

Furthermore, there’s a sense… 

for this author…

that the idea and image of Jesus as High Priest––

and thus of him interceding for us––

was what came first.

With that firmly in his mind…

he then worked backwards.

If Jesus was a High Priest…

then he must have made sacrifice for us…

and…

hence…

the only sacrifice that he could have made––

and that he did make––

was himself.

 

And yet… 

despite all of that…

our author seems to understand all of it in a concessional way.

Indeed, he argues that Jesus’ sacrifice has ended all sacrifice;

that he has rendered redundant the whole point of a sacrificial system.

So, while the author of Hebrews attests to Jesus’ sacrificial death… 

he does so from a decidedly anti-sacrificial standpoint. 

As the theologian, Mark Heim, notes…

he works from the premise that sacrifice was always an “imperfect response”.

Indeed, as our author will note later…

God does not “desire nor” take “pleasure in sacrifices…and burnt offerings”. 

God doesn’t want let alone need sacrifices.

But, in effect, what the author is arguing is that–– 

as Mark Heim puts it––

“If you believe in sacrifice, then you can’t practice it anymore, because it has been done completely, perfectly, once for all”. 

God never wanted this.

And, in a sense, God allowed Jesus to be sacrificed to put an end to it.

Once and for all.

In effect, what that means is… 

we cannot imitate what Jesus has done. 

And we shouldn’t try. 

As such, the call to the Christian life is not a call to sacrifice. 

We cannot…

we must not slaughter–– 

or allow to be slaughtered–– 

any more innocent victims… 

be it on our altars of nationalism and political ideology… 

on our altars of expediency and self-interest… 

or on our altars of misguided religious tradition or 

religiosity. 

 

But that includes not sacrificing ourselves, as well! 

According to the author of Hebrews… 

as Christians, we are called to faithfulness. 

We are called to perseverance. 

We are called to do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly. 

But we are not called to some sort of misguided…

masochistic… 

self-sacrifice. 

We’re not the messiah–– 

and we never will be.