Easter Reflections

Thursday night, having just finished the Holy (Maundy) Thursday service, we walked out in silence. The church had been "stripped" and emptied. The Bread and Wine (Christ's Body and Blood, the sacramental signs of His on-going presence) are consumed. There is nothing left. He is gone...

As I walked I looked high in the sky, just above the roof line on our church, to see the full moon, patially touched by a few wayward clouds. As I looked up I was reminded of the opening scene of The Passion of the Christ. I was instantly transported to that night. I paused to think of the numerous followers of Jesus. While the disciples were there, many weren't. I imagined the chain of communication. The horror and confusion (although He had repeatedly told them what was coming). The words echoed in my mind:

"They arrested Him!"
A shocked look, a mumbled response, "what? who?"
Eyes blank and fearful, "The Lord. They arrested the Lord Jesus!"

The humanity of the entire episode is so often lost on us. We weren't there. Pious paintings and incarnation denying spiritualities have robbed us of the flesh and blood closeness of it all to our own experiences. And the mundaneness. Within moments of the arrest, that same garden, a place of noise and crowds (and even a sword separating ear from head) was quiet. The only proof of what transpired the trampled grass.

Good Friday is more concrete, dusty and bloody, not hidden from sight. That hot day, a naked man, one among at least three (perhaps more?) expired. His body had been beaten, the skin shredded by the Roman whip, an especially cruel, effective and inventive tool of torture. Nature reacted to the sight with darkness and earthquakes, while others stood around to mock. Reports vary about who was there, but only a few of those whom He loved gathered.

The silence of Saturday. Dead dreams. Dead hopes. Shattered identities. Questions about what comes next. Fear and worry. The impulse to self preservation leads to efforts to remain hidden. The city, usually numbering less than forty thousand, had swollen to three times that. A few dozen pilgrims could no doubt hide in plain sight, but there is still that gnawing terror. Crucifixion is a most awful way to die and none of His followers desired to follow Him in that.

With breaking morning there is the discovery. An empty tomb, someone(s) there to announce His resurrection. He goes ahead to Galilee. No, He appears to them in Jerusalem. Peter comes alone. Not really, the Beloved Disciple was there. An impromptu breakfast for guys fishing. Two travelers recongnize Him in the breaking of bread. Peter is reinstituted with a triple declaration of love. Somewhere He met James. Another time five hundred. Last of all, much, much later, as to one untimely born, Paul.

The resurrection accounts are a jumbled mess. The historically minded  sense there is a core fact (empty tomb, resurrection appearances) which unfolded in a series of events.  Yet, the written accounts betray the variety of traditions; no doubt a direct result of the confusion such an event produces. It is not every day that dead people appear. It is simply not the norm. One can imagine that the confusion of Thursday night, as word spread of the arrest, would appear quite sensible in the face of the new story circulating of the resurrection.

What happened that morning? The trustworthy Word of God is not clear. Our Bible points with many fingers in a general direction. BUT, the end result is very clear. Jesus is not dead but ALIVE. Jesus is not the same as before. His body is somehow possessing new qualities. He can appear and disappear. Eat food yet pass through doors. He looks the same, but different, different enough that they are not sure it is Him.

I envy those men and women; those who gazed on Him in the days of His appearances. However, I have no illusions that they have any advantage over me/us. We know what they know. We know He is Lord. We know He is risen. WE know.... We know.

So I ponder this Easter Good News. He is risen. God has walked in our midst and done a wonderful thing. And I pray that my  heart might burn with fire as I listen to Him talk to me on the way.