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Easter reflection 12 and
AS we wish one another a happy Easter, we can’t help but wonder if our celebrations might seem a little shallow this year. While the Church worldwide marks a joyful celebration of new life, more than a million refugees seek respite from a tragedy of epic proportions. Violence and bloodshed rip apart their homeland, and we are all left with a feeling of total helplessness and shock. How can this be happening today? What else could this lead to?
It is not just anxiety over the Ukraine conflict that weighs heavy on us. In recent years there have been many other painful experiences. The global Covid-19 pandemic that profoundly impacted everyone has cost so many lives and left some people questioning the way it was handled. Movements that have grown in response to racism and sexual abuse have highlighted the deeply rooted injustice and prejudice experienced by many. Governments and institutions have come under scrutiny as scandals and stories of power abuse have left many with a sense of outrage. Why does evil always seem to get away with it? How can we make sense of our pain and fears?
Psalm 13 expresses such questions in prayer towards God: ‘How long, Lord? Will you forget me for ever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and day after day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?’ (vv1 and 2).
The pain of the past and anxiety for the future have a profound impact on the way we live in the present. But that does not mean there is no hope.
REMEMBERING RIGHTLY
In The End of Memory, Croatian theologian and torture survivor Miroslav Volf poses this thought-provoking question: How should we remember rightly in a violent world?
If you have followed any crime dramas you will understand how hard it is for witnesses to accurately recall what actually happened. People’s memories of what took place are limited and shaped by personal perspectives and judgements. It is impossible for one person alone to know the full truth of events.
As Christians we have the assurance that God knows all things, both seen and unseen, and that the Holy Spirit can help us know the truth. But how do we reconcile the pain of our experiences with God’s desire for forgiveness, justice, peace and righteousness? Are we to forget our pain in order to forgive? How do we remember justly in order to honour the victims of injustice? The question of how we should remember arises from our experience of these deep and real tensions.
Volf discovered that, as he grappled with his own painful memories, his understanding of the Exodus of God’s people from Egypt and the Passion and Resurrection of Jesus – who overcame death, torture and violence – could offer a healing and liberating perspective.
As Jesus reflected on the powerful central story of Israel’s Passover, he opened his disciples’ eyes to the deeper significance it could have for them. By doing ‘this in remembrance of me’ (Luke 22:19) it became a story of holistic redemption lived out before their very eyes. God took the tragedy of Jesus’ betrayal, torture and execution and, through the Resurrection, transformed it into the means of the world’s redemption. As the apostle Paul invited his readers to see in 1 Corinthians 15:12–34, the Resurrection made sense of Jesus’ Passion and in turn changed everything.
REFRAMING OUR EXPERIENCES
Perhaps there is something in the way that Volf engaged with these stories to address his remembering that can help us too. When we consider the Easter story through the lens of our lived experience, the idea of such a celebration of life and hope can feel a little flat. After all, the events of Easter happened long ago and our current experience of evil and injustice can seem overwhelming.
Yet that is precisely the problem. When we read the events of Easter in this way, our present experiences and anxieties become a fixed point through which we evaluate the story. It casts a dark shadow across the Easter story, dulling its impact on our lives.
If we allow the story to read us instead, then everything changes. The Resurrection becomes a new fixed point that shines a beam of light into our past memories and our present and future experience. We may not necessarily find the answers to all our questions, but we do discover a light to illuminate our way.
Those who can inflict the greatest harm may seem to have the greatest power on Earth, but the Resurrection reveals the futility of such thinking. God breathes life into dead bones! People might think they can get away with doing whatever they like no matter what the cost to others, but the Resurrection promises that every action and deed will be called to account. The one who humbled himself to death on a cross has now been raised to the highest place and every knee will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.
God is a God of justice, not of passive tolerance. As John Gowans so elegantly put it: ‘Ours is not a distant God, remote, unfeeling,/ Who is careless of our loneliness and pain’ (SASB 10).
Living with joyful hope in a world racked with violence and injustice is not an easy thing to do. By allowing the Easter story to read us, we discover how to live as God-embraced people. The painful weight of all that is wrong, in ourselves and in the world, has been and ultimately will be carried by God. We can choose to see it differently because God will have the last word, just as he did on Easter Day.
The words penned by Gloria and William Gaither capture this grace-filled outlook well:
Our experiences and anxieties can cast a dark shadow across the Easter story... but we can choose to see it differently
Because he lives, I can face tomorrow; Because he lives, all fear is gone; Because I know he holds the future, And life is worth the living just because he lives.
(SASB 219)
