MOVING FROM GOOD FRIDAY TO EASTER
April 11, 2004The Reverend Anne Felton Hines
A couple of years ago, there appeared a political cartoon in the L.A. Times depicting Jesus holding a newspaper in one hand, with his face buried in the other; the caption read, "and Jesus wept..." I don't remember what the event was that had prompted the cartoon, but surely it could still just as easily be drawn today. For I am sure that if Jesus were alive now, he would be weeping - perhaps even sobbing uncontrollably.
This past week was Holy Week in the Christian Church. It is a stunning week, filled with high drama -- beginning with Palm Sunday, which celebrates Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem for Passover; Maundy Thursday, when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples, and shared his last meal with them; then the solemnity of Good Friday, marking his brutal death on the cross; and ending with the beauty and transformation of Easter, the day on which it is said he resurrected from death.
But as much as we look forward to that joyful day, there can be a tendency for us to get stuck in Good Friday - trapped in the despair and hopelessness of the crucifixion, rather than opening ourselves to the promise of resurrection offered on Easter. Indeed, from a theological standpoint, this is one of the more perplexing aspects of Mel Gibson's movie, The Passion of the Christ. Why would he end the film with the suffering and death of Jesus, and ignore the most important part of the Christian story - the resurrected Christ - the victory of Life over Death? Somewhere in his Catholic upbringing, Gibson must have missed this crucial teaching of his Church.
But then, our whole world seems stuck in Good Friday these days. Where in the world are we to look for signs of new life? Where can we turn to find hope for resurrection? Surely not in Iraq, where every day brings news of more death and despair. If there ever was a reason for hope this past year in that tiny country, it has certainly evaporated now.
Perhaps most painful is the escalating rise in deaths of our American soldiers, almost all of them young men and women barely into adulthood. You may have read in yesterday's L.A. Times the incredibly moving story about the struggle to save the life of one young Marine wounded in fighting in Fallouja. The article described the Navy doctors huddling beneath a bridge, with dust falling on top of them as Army vehicles raced by above, and the noise of jets and mortar fire accompanying them in the background. In the end, they were unable to save the soldier, and he became one more number added to the list of over 600 American deaths since this highly questionable war began. Oh yes…I imagine Jesus was weeping.
The only hope our Secretary of Defense can give us is to say that, "there will be some good days and some less good days." Seems to me that there have been an inordinate amount of "less good days" in Iraq the past couple of weeks; and it feels an awful lot like Good Friday.
How are the poor in America - especially the working poor - supposed to move from Good Friday to Easter? Where are the signs of hope for their lives improving anytime soon? With rent subsidies being threatened, and jobs being sent overseas, and health care becoming more dream than reality…how are the poor supposed to believe in the resurrection of life over despair?
And for those of us who feel acutely our connection to the web of Creation, the continual assaults to our planet are devastating. How can it be that such sanctuaries of beauty as Yosemite, Joshua Tree and the Rocky Mountains, now have air quality so bad that the views have begun to look more like the view of L.A. on a smoggy day? In the same newspaper that reported that finding, it was also reported that literally hundreds of animal species are on the verge of extinction, seriously threatening our planet's biodiversity. The cartoon of Jesus weeping could just as easily portray our Mother Earth shedding tears of despair. How do we move our planet from Good Friday to Easter?
Of course, it is not only events beyond us which confront us with hopelessness and sorrow; it is also the events in our personal lives. None of us escapes these -- the deaths to our soul which we suffer at times throughout our life. I alluded to these kinds of events in my sermon last week, noting that we may be thrown into what feels like a dark night of despair, and wonder how we will ever be able to leave it behind - or even if we want to. I know that some of you are experiencing such "deaths to your soul," and are struggling to find your way to Easter.
How do we move from despair to hope? Perhaps an answer can be glimpsed in Psalm 139, a prayer of comfort where God is portrayed as a loving parent who companions us along our way, especially in the depths of our greatest fears and sorrows. At one point, the Psalmist writes, "Even the night shall be light about me; the night shineth like the day. The darkness and the light are both alike to thee." Perhaps we re-claim hope by walking slowly and faithfully through that darkness, knowing that Love companions us, and that even during the darkest night, the power of that Love will light our way.
Two days ago, on Good Friday, Christians throughout the world gathered for three hours of worship in the middle of the day. During this time, they recounted the trial of Jesus, the betrayal of him by his friends, and finally his crucifixion. It is the most somber event of the liturgical year.
But in some churches, another event occurs that evening, called Tenebrae - the "Service of Light and Shadow." It begins with the church fully lit with candles, along with a central Paschal -- or Christ -- candle. One by one, each candle is extinguished at the end of readings, until all that remains is the Paschal candle, which is removed from the Sanctuary. After the final reading, people leave the church in darkness and a dreadful silence.
And then the vigil begins, with people taking turns sitting in the church to "keep watch" throughout the night and all of Holy Saturday. And it is that time that represents for me the journey from despair to hope, from death to new life.
It is that period after the last candle is snuffed out which poses for all of us -- no matter our religion, no matter our beliefs -- the biggest challenge of all: Will we pretend that death doesn't exist, that the shadows of the world are not ours, and skip joyfully on to Easter? Conversely, will we remain stuck in the shadows -- our own or the world's -- and never move beyond them? Or can we mourn the tragedies, touch our fears, raise our fists in anger…and finally turn our eyes forward to glimpse the signs of resurrection, the tangible evidences of hope?
When Jesus hung dying on the cross, I imagine his disciples kept hoping for a miracle. But when they took his body down, laid it in the tomb and rolled the stone across the entryway, their hopes were dashed; they must have felt that all their friend and rabbi had taught them about the redeeming force of Love was for naught, and that their world would never be transformed.
I imagine that most of the next day was spent in mourning together, as the disciples wondered what they would do now - where would they turn for hope? Surely they were not up to the task of revolutionizing their world! They did not have the wisdom or the courage of their teacher! Indeed, recent scholarship suggests that they actually fled the scene, fearful that they, too, would be arrested and crucified!
But I like to imagine them keeping "vigil," in a way - witnessing to the death of their rabbi, and to the life he had led.
According to a couple of the Gospels, it was Mary of Magdela who then wandered back to the tomb alone - perhaps in need of quiet solitude in order to fully mourn her loss. But much to her dismay, she discovered that the stone had been rolled away, and the tomb was empty! As she sat and wept, we are told, Jesus appeared, seemingly alive - though she did not recognize him until he spoke her name. And as she ran to embrace him in joy, what did he say to her? Each Gospel tells it differently, but John's Gospel reports that Jesus admonished Mary, "Do not hold on to me!" Let go, was his message. Later that same day, when he appeared to the other disciples, he instructed them as well not only to let go of him, but to instead embody him in their new life. It was through living his teachings that they were to find hope.
Can we not also become part of that hope, by letting go of despair, and putting our visions and our love into actions? That, it seems to me, is our task, and is what this season of resurrection calls us to do: To witness to the deaths in the world - the despair and the hopelessness; and then to provide courage to one another, so that through our actions we become the hope for each other and for the world. As Thomas Paine said, "We have in our power the ability to begin the world over again."
It will take more than one day to move from death to new life in Iraq and other parts of the world being torn apart by war. It will take more than one day to move from despair to hope in the lives of America's poor, and in the life of our Mother Earth. It will take more than one day to move from Good Friday to Easter for those who may be experiencing some deep personal loss or struggle.
But I believe that eventually, if we are willing to engage the night and walk boldly through it, with the love of companions by our side, we will experience the dawn, changed from what we had been, and able to live our lives in a new way.
And I believe that if we join together to witness to the violence of war and injustice, and work boldly for a world of peace and freedom and beauty, we will become part of the joyous movement from death to resurrection.
We will bear witness to our faith that what continues unchanged is Love - not some sentimental love found on Hallmark cards, but the love modeled by Jesus, as well as by people we have known in our own lifetimes - Carroll Trumbull, Jack Byrom, Jackie Wild, Mary Trumpler, and many of you here today; a love so full of hope and courage that it changes lives and radicalizes the world. It is this love we invoke and embody every time we witness for peace and justice.
But just in case we do not believe it, there is Easter Monday - the day on which we are to go into the world and look for visible signs of resurrection. We may not recognize them at first; but if we keep our eyes open, and listen with our heart, they will speak our name. And what we will find is "something bursting from the earth again, forever deathless, faithful, coming into life again like April."
May this be so for us all.
© 2004 Anne Felton Hines. All rights reserved.
