Third Sunday of Easter
This week we have had a funeral for a dear friend in the parish, and I am reflecting on how after a funeral, we focus on going back to our own homes, to try and pick up our daily lives. The story of our loved one and friend is now finished. The practical matters of organising a funeral, a burial or cremation is completed. Paperwork is done, a home, or perhaps simply a room, is emptied of belongings, stuff is given away, shared out and memories held tightly for a little while, until we get into new ways of living and behaving, which shift the emphasis of our lives. Grief is there, but life is continuing, whether we like it or not. New meaning has to be found to make sense of the absence. We might even ask, ‘where is God in all this?’
In the Gospel story today in Luke 24, we hear about two companions who were walking towards Emmaus, leaving Jerusalem behind after the terrible events of the last few days; the torture, trial and crucifixion of their leader, teacher and friend. Jesus was dead and the hopes invested in him were disappearing, slipping away, leaving grief behind. As they walked, a stranger came alongside and joined in the conversation. I suspect it was a relief to be able to tell the story once more, to reflect on what had happened, to try and make sense of the horror and emptiness.
By the time the three of them get to Emmaus, they press the stranger to join them for supper. His explanation of what had been happening and why, as they walked, reflecting on the scriptures and the prophets made them eager to hear more, to listen and to dare to have hope rising again. Then the stranger does what Jesus used to do in the blessing and breaking of bread and they finally recognise Jesus, beyond their grief: the bigger story which is being told and into which they now belong has been revealed. It is no longer life as usual. It is Jesus, who disappears once they realise who they have been walking and talking with along the road. What joy must have been in their hearts at that point. In their excitement, they hurry back the 7 miles to Jerusalem to find the 11 disciples gathered together and they share their news of their encounter as they all realise they have all seen Jesus.
I wondered, as we prepare for a baptism today in this season of Eastertide, if we have perhaps moved on too far from Easter Sunday and all it promised us. Life has resumed, our grief has turned to joy, the funeral is forgotten, Christ is risen. There were lovely Easter services, we gathered, we shared the grief of Holy Week, the Passion Story and the active waiting as we kept vigil, wondering about ‘what next’, and then the new day dawns and the news of the resurrection of Christ breaks out in all its glory. We celebrate and go home.
Mostly, we treat Easter as a one-day annual event filled with joy and family gatherings, lots of easter eggs and hot cross buns, and perhaps a sunrise service if we can make it in time, and then, just like we do after a funeral, we go back into Ordinary Time. We start to behave as if the resurrection is a finish line; we made it across the last line of the story, rather than understanding we are really at the starting line of the story. And in times this complicated and chaotic, we are in danger of losing something really important with this casual response.
However, the Church managed to keep in mind something critical for all of us, which is why we have Eastertide taking 50 days, from Resurrection Sunday to Pentecost. We have 50 days to practice living with the reality we have discovered so dramatically, whether we were on the road to Emmaus, still hiding in Jerusalem or heading home, to grieve. We discover death does not have the last word! We have 50 days of practicing what it looks like to be people who refuse to be governed by fear, because we have finally understood and are willing to stake our lives on the conviction the worse thing that can happen isn’t actually the last thing that can happen.
When Easter simply becomes a single morning with a special church service, resurrection becomes sentimentalised, words without meaning, faith which isn’t really faith, because by Tuesday morning when you’re back at work, getting on with life and the public holidays are over, and the news is still awful again, the cruelty is growing and edging out our humanity, and toxic power is spreading, the lack of compassion is hurting and the suffering of people around us is profound, such a simplified, shallow belief offers nothing of any use to anyone.
So, we need these 50 days now; 50 days to live within this precious time given by Christ, to practice living beyond fear, refusing to be overwhelmed or give into it, with all its unkindness, discrimination, judgement and rejection. To be able to share your faith with genuine hope and commitment, live it, breathe it, pray it, speak it, sing it, and walk it and remain excited. Even to speak your doubts like Thomas and know God understands.
Jesus’ disciples didn’t walk away from the empty tomb, refreshed, newly minted and fearless. They were filled with doubts, confusion, fear. They knew the religious leaders and the Roman empire were still watching and waiting, ready to jump on them if they stepped out of line. They’d already killed their leader, killing the followers would be easier.
The women and men who gathered and grieved, celebrated, wondered and dared to believe still went home to frightened families and friends, still had to deal with life: and, resurrection didn’t remove the Roman empire from its oppression and cost on others. Instead, the resurrection of Jesus showed the disciples something so important, it has to be shouted from the rooftops; the Roman boot was not the truest or the only thing about the world in which they lived. There was and is more to life. We know this.
We are gathered today to celebrate a baptism of a beloved small boy, and you may be like me, wondering what sort of world my grandchildren are going to inherit, and where I will find my hope. Let me be clear, I am finding it in Jesus and in his resurrection.
Those who deal in cruelty, madness, chaos, death and violence are counting on our exhaustion and fear. They are hoping we will respond to them the way the world expects us to respond to Easter Sunday, having a single day of feeling good, then getting back to ‘normal’, normal as the world understands it. Yet over 50 days, as we grapple with being resurrection people, finding time to practice, to share, know and trust God, renew our faith and give thanks for God’s grace, we dare to say there is no ‘normal’ to go back to, there is only the long, stubborn insistence love is more durable than anything Caesar can throw at us. Whatever Caesar throws at us is not the last word, and we can celebrate knowing resurrection takes more than a day, or even a lifetime, and as we celebrate new life, we can know this is resurrected life.
The Lord be with you.