Still Writing

A Reflection on the Gospel for April 12th, 2020:
​The Solemnity of Easter Sunday

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JOHN 20

1Now on the first day of the week Mary Mag'dalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. 2So she ran, and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." 3Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. 4They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first; 5and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, 7and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.

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Pause. Pray.

And then read more...

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We are about to embark upon an Easter unlike any we have ever experienced. This year, early spring days are not filled with walks in the park or the sounds of neighbourhood children playing together outside. No. It’s a new world out there. Quiet. Deserted. Tense. Anxious.

​Ash Wednesday seems like a lifetime ago. Did hundreds of people really all sit together in one room for an hour? Did I actually let someone touch my forehead after he had touched hundreds of others? That seems like absolutely reckless behaviour now. It was normal a few short weeks ago.
 
Easter Sunday is the culmination of Holy Week. Up until that point, to anyone observing, the last week of Jesus’ life was a complete disaster, a total disappointment, and an utter failure. He was sentenced to death for a crime He didn’t commit and died a lonely death on the side of the road. Deserted. Tense. Anxious. It was a devastating end for His closest friends, too. This is not what they expected when they paraded into Jerusalem with Him the week before with palm branches waving. They thought He was going to be crowned king on earth and they too would rise to power, royal by association. 

That first Easter morning, they were not triumphant. They were defeated. They were sad, unsure of what the future would bring. Just as this reading says, “[A]s yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” His followers had spent three years with Jesus and they thought they understood the story He was writing. That story was shattered on Good Friday, and Easter Sunday they realized He was doing something entirely different. 
 
If I’m honest, even at the best of times I often tend to be more “Good Friday” than “Easter Sunday”. There is just so much pain in this life. We live in what has been called the already-but-not-yet, where Jesus has already come into the world sharing His message of hope and love for all people—risen from the dead, but all the brokenness of the world has not yet been restored to the way God intended it to be. There is still pain. There is still suffering. There is still loneliness. There is still fear. There is still sadness.

This Easter I’m asking myself, what does it mean to hope when the not yet part of the world seems to be louder than the already? What does hope look like in the face of incredible uncertainty, unfairness, and pain? I’m not sure, but I think that hope can include honesty and it can include grief. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. And yet, God is still writing the same story He’s been writing since the beginning. A story where we were created out of dust and He said that we were good. A story where we were created out of Love to be loved. A story where we are loved and we are held.

Thanks be to God.




Morgan MacKenzie

Photo by Natalia Figueredo on Unsplash

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