I'm sure most of you thought I'd forgotten about this blog. In fact, some of you probably even hoped I had.
Sorry.
Unfortunately, the stresses of Lent, Easter, a presentation for the Renaissance Society of America, teaching, and editing my doctoral dissertation have kept me a bit on the busy side as of late.
My apologies!
As we've now finished Lent and are now, thankfully, in the season of Easter, I figure it's time to wrap up this whole meditation on death and Christianity.
I think, if you've read the previous two entries, you know that -to my view- it really seems that the problem Christianity has with death is that we view it as an ending. The big finale. The inevitable. That which cannot ever be escaped.
In a way, this is all well and true. Physically, at least as we know it, this is the end and it is, entirely, inevitable.
But, if you're part of the Christian tradition, that can't be all of the story. Death is just the beginning. Life is but a prelude. The end is the beginning is the beginning is the end.
Certainly, I think we try to recognise this to some extent. We write pithy phrases on gravestones and enter cliched obituary notices like "Person X has gone away to God" or "went to be with his/her Lord."
........but, usually, we tend to kick that to the way-side when the pain of our loss breaks through.
Mind you, I think it's normal, real, and even good to recognise that our pains of loss are real and powerful. But, in the Christian tradition, this can't -no matter how cruel the situation- be the end note of things.
I spoke about this a bit in my Easter sermon yesterday....
"If you’ve been around the church for a while, or perhaps even if you haven’t, you might have noticed that there seems to always be this theme of the unexpected bouncing about in the gospels. The divine plan, as it plays out in the gospels, rarely seems to correspond to notions of human logic and propriety. Whether it’s feeding the 5,000, prophesying in the temple as a youth, or dining with tax collectors and other unsavoury folks, this gospel, this story of the life and workings of Christ, which we so often encounter, was one of surprise and unexpectedness.
Easter, in and of itself, is perhaps the epitome of surprise; albeit one which is both bitter and sweet. Nobody in Jesus’ tribe expected things to turn out like this. They didn’t understand….and how could they be expected to? Here was a being who claimed to be the long-prophesied messiah! The one who would save the Hebrew nation. The one who would bring a new kingdom….which at that time obviously meant overthrowing the Romans and all who collaborated with them. It meant that the political and economic salvation which they had so longed for was about to be realised………
That is, until the events of the day which we now call Good Friday. Until this Jesus, this messiah, this Christ, was taken, tortured, condemned, and executed. This was, perhaps, the biggest and definitely the most cruel surprise which the gospel narrative had in store for those early followers.
This was not what they expected. This was not what they prayed for. This was not what they yearned and worked towards. This, this was just simply unthinkable. Everything that they had invested for the last few years had come crashing down. Everything that they had envisioned and fantasised about was dashed away on that hill of Golgatha.
And now, well, now who really knew what to say. They were scattered. Preparing for persecution and ridicule. Some denied ever even having known the man they once thought of as a messiah. But that was only externally, inwardly, there must have been even greater turmoil. It must have been horrible. Like a direct hit from an ultimate fighter or martial arts master combined with feeling of your favourite friend dying unexpectedly. It must have been almost unexplainable. And it is in this chaotic mess. This gut-wrenching and trying time, that we find two ladies who are about to be both surprised and help deliver the greatest surprise that the world might ever know.
Mary and Mary, in their sorrow, are found to be doing what many of us would do after the loss of one we cared about….they’re going to the grave. They’re probably doing the only thing they can think of at the time. Off to mourn for one they cared about and entrusted so much to. One in whom they thought the future rested, one who, unlike much of standard society, recognised in them the value that they held and were created with. But he was dead now. And death is the finality from which none escape. It was all well and truly over. Nothing made sense and nothing seemed like it would ever be right again.
Their grief is almost palpable, even 2000 years later.
But, as we know, this was not to remain. This gospel narrative which has, thus far, been so full of uncomfortable and tragic surprises reveals yet another unexpected something, but this time, the surprise is amazing, world changing, and universe shattering.
Mary and Mary are met with news which must have seemed incredible and impossible. Everything he had said HAD come true. He had escaped from death’s clutches. He had risen again. He was actually who he said he was. He was the messiah.
And then……there he was in all glory for them to touch and see…….all of Hollywood itself would have a hard time penning a better reunion scene.
But what does this have to do with we today? It’s a nice story and all. A moving story even, but it was so long ago. What does it mean for us in our times of loss? Can it even mean anything to us?"
These are all fair questions, I think.
Ultimately, Easter displays to us that, if we are to be part of this tradition called "Christianity" we need to accept loss just as much as we accept gain. Death, is just as central and pivotal a part of Christianity as life. Without death, arguably, there would be no transcendent Christ. Just as, without the life of this Christ, there would arguably be nothing so special in his death.
And so, I think it is with us, really.
Death, so often, is the time where we stop speaking of and to others. They're done. They're gone. Kaput. However, I think that both cheapens our faith in Christianity and in other people.
If a stitch of what we say about Christianity, at its core, is true, then we have to believe that those who have departed are, just that, departed. Beginning a new journey that we have not yet scheduled to take. Moreover, to ignore who they were, what they meant, and where they've gone, is to cheapen their time with us.
It doesn't mean we can't be sad that we're not on the journey with them. Nor does it mean we can't be a bit anxious about reaching the point in time where we too will jump out into the unknown.
It simply means that we must remember that, in Christ, the end is the beginning, just as much as the beginning is the end. The known is that which is unknown, just as much as the unknown might be know.
The end.....or the beginning.....or the end......or the beginning.....(But seriously, the end of this post!)
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