Eastertide #4

Peace be with you

(John 20:26)

That’s what our resurrected Lord said when he appeared: “Peace be with you” to the ten assembled in the upper room. Or again, eight days later, when doubting Thomas finally gathered with the gathered: “Peace be with you” (Jn 20:19&26).

That’s how the Gospel Story begins: “Peace on earth…” (Lk 2:14). At the Last Supper, Jesus spoke of this peace: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives” (Jn 14:27).

This peace that Jesus gives has to do with Calvary: “Jesus is our peace; breaking down hostility between us through the cross” (Eph 2:14-18). Strange juxtaposition… The Roman Cross, the instrument of PAX ROMANA, “Roman Peace”; and, Calvary’s Cross where violence spent itself leaving a different, not of this world, kind of peace. Calvary’s peace is “the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding” (Phil 4:7). That’s why the gospel we preach is called “the gospel of peace” (Eph 6:15).

Much Eastertide lingering could go on here. Is there ever a time a Christian should take to violence? The Apostle says there remains a place, in this fallen world, for Caesar’s Sword (Ro 13). If we do take up the sword, it’s always Caesar’s sword, not Christ’s. No one enters the kingdom of God by the sword. We enter through “the gospel of peace.”

Eastertide #3

It is I myself

(Luke 24:39)

“Peace be with you!” said our resurrected Lord to the ten disciples huddled in the upper room. But they figured it must be a ghost. Jesus assures them, he’s no ghost: “Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself.” And then for a little show and tell, Jesus asks if they have anything to eat. The disciples come up with “a piece of broiled fish, and he took it and ate in their presence” (Luke 24:36-43). Ghosts can’t do that. They’re not real enough to eat.

Something similar happened to a couple making their way back home from Jerusalem where they had witnessed the events of Calvary. Jesus doesn’t let on who he is—he has some fun with them. When they sit down and break bread together, they recognize that it’s Jesus.

Sometime later, back up on the Sea of Galilee, the fisherman disciples go back to work. Things aren’t going well. Jesus appears on shore. He notices they are discouraged and yells out to them, “Throw your net on the right side of the boat and you will find fish.” Sure enough, all sorts of fish—153 large fish gathered in the net. As the disciples pull the heavy load of fish to shore where Jesus was, “the net did not tear (schizō)” (Jn 21:11). Jesus barbequed some fish and said, “Come and have breakfast with me.” John concludes the story by telling us “this was now the third time Jesus appeared to his disciple after he was raised form the dead” (Jn 21:14).

The church has seen in this a picture of how the gospel will bring a net full of all different kinds of people “from every tribe and language and people and nation” to Jesus. And, the net will hold them all—it does not break into various schisms.”

When Peter retells the stories of Easter, he wants us to know that they “ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead” (Ac 10:41). That’s the first thing on the agenda when we all get to heaven: “Blessed are those who are invited to the marriage supper of the Lamb" (Rv 19:9). Ghosts can’t do that. They are not real enough to hold down a meal. When we arrive at that heavenly table, it will be “I myself”—you yourself—us as us—as real as Jesus.

Eastertide #2

God raised Jesus up and allowed him to appear

(Acts 10:40)

Let’s stick with the Christian Calendar through Pentecost. After Easter Morning. Our resurrected Lord lingers among us for a spell. How our resurrected Lord departs and what he leaves behind are the next big events on the Christian Calendar—events that, without the Calendar, we might miss; or, in other ways, overlook. So let’s see it through till Pentecost.

On Easter Morning, Jesus’ tomb is found empty. No one questions that. It’s a historical fact that no one disputes. What is disputed, is how Jesus’ tomb became empty. Soldiers guarding the tomb say, “Jesus’ disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.” Then Matthew adds: “And this story is still told to this day.” We live “to this day,” with two stories about how the tomb was found empty: 1) someone must have taken away his body; or, 2) he rose from the dead—or, as is most often said, “God raised him from the dead” (Ac 3:15); or more fully, “God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear” (Ac 10:40).

One can provided good arguments for why ours is the true story—like why would the disciples give their lives for a hoax? There can be no doubt they really believed it; and, that this belief came from the appearance of the risen Christ among them. “We are witnesses,” as Peter testifies, of how “God raised Jesus on the third day and allowed him to appear …to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead” (Ac 10:40-41).

Easter can’t be contained in a one day celebration. It overflows. There’s a tide to it that floods ashore—that floods over us. Eastertide is a season of fifty days, between Easter Sunday and Pentecost Sunday, when we contemplate what happened when the tomb was found empty and our risen Lord appeared to God’s chosen witnesses. During Eastertide we linger, as our resurrected Lord lingered among us, and contemplate how it can be that Jesus “was put to death for our trespasses and raised to grant us… peace” (Ro 4:25-5:1). As the hymn goes, “Can it be?”

Eastertide #1:

Man of Sorrows

(Isaiah 53:3)

We began our Easter Service singing “Man of Sorrows What a Name.” I cried. Others thought it an odd, even depressing hymn to kickoff Easter Sunday. Why didn’t we sing “Up From the Grave He Arose”? Something more triumphant. Maybe so, but “Man of Sorrows,” a 19^th century hymn, worked for me.

During these first few days of Eastertide, I’ve spent my morning fire time with Isaiah’s Servant Songs. I figured that’s where “Man of Sorrows” must be found. Sure enough, there it was in the fourth Servant Songs: “A man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief. …Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”

I’ll have to tell our new worship minister that I like his Easter hymn choice. I have a feeling he may need some encouragement. Easter Morning is not Easter Morning without Good Friday, and Good Friday is not good without Easter Morning. As the third Servant Songs puts it, “He who vindicates me is near.” The Resurrection is God’s vindication of his Good Friday Suffering Servant.

Holy Week: Sunday

After the Sabbath, as the First Day of the Week was Dawning

Matthew 28:1

Early, on the first day of the week, “the women who had come with Jesus from Galilee” make their way back to the tomb with spices they prepared to freshen up the gravesite—like bringing flowers to honor a deceased loved one. To their surprise, they find the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. They were perplexed by it all when a couple of angelic messengers appear and say: “He is not here, He has risen!”

When the women find the disciples gathered together, they tell them what happened early that morning, when they came to freshen up the tomb. “These words seemed to the disciples an idle tale, and they did not believe their story.” But Peter, checks it out and finds that it’s really true. The stone has been rolled away, the tomb is empty, and Jesus is on the loose. He is risen indeed! That changes everything.

It changes Tragic Friday into Good Friday. If Jesus has been raised from the dead, then something unimaginably good took place on Calvary’s Mountain. It means that the cup of suffering Jesus drank to its leaves, had to do with us and creation itself. On Calvary, “God was reconciling the world (kosmos) to himself” (2Cor 5:19). It changes how we see ourselves, how we see others, and how we see the cosmos.

It changes Monday morning from just another day into “The Lord’s Day.” The first day of the week will never be the same. From this day forward, every Sunday is a little Easter. That’s why Christians gather together “after Sabbath, early on the first day of the week when we break bread together” (Ac 20:7 = Mt 28:1). On Saturday, we rest from our labor. Sunday morning we gather to celebrate “the Lord’s Day” (Rv 1:10). When we gather to sing our hymns of wonder and praise, to pray our prayers, to listen to the sacred text and to break bread together; we receive a little resurrection of our own—renewed to go back “to work, knowing that in the Lord our labor is not in vain” (1Cor 15:58). It changes our days.

The cross, that most brutalizing and demeaning apparatuses of execution, changes into a sign and symbol of our “hope of salvation …through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us” (1Thess 5:8-10). On Easter Morning, God says “Yes” to the Cross. What needed to be done on Calvary’s Cross was done. The Resurrection means God says “Yes” to us. That changes everything.

Holy Week: Saturday

He descended into the lower parts of the Earth.

(Ephesians 4:9)

Saturday, Jesus is laid to rest “wrapped in spices and linen cloths.” His work is done. On this Sabbath Day we await the Father’s “Yes” to the Work of his Son. That’s why it’s called “The Great Sabbath.” It’s the Sabbath of all Sabbaths. Like the first Sabbath, when God rested after finishing his creative work; so now, God the Son rest after finishing his Work of a New Creation: “It is finished.”

Like Jesus, we too seek rest from our labor. And, like Jesus, there is always suffering in good honest work. It’s not easy caring for the family, providing a home, putting food on the table. It comes “by the sweet of our brow.” We do our work. Then, on Saturday—the Sabbath, we rest and wait to see what God will make of it.

There’s something else—an announcement only Jesus can make concerning what just happened on Mount Calvary: “He descended into the lower parts of the Earth… to proclaim to the spirits in prison, who formerly did not obey…” (Eph 4:9 & 1Pt 3:19-20). “In this way, the gospel was preached even to the dead that though judged in the flesh, they might live in the spirit” (1Pt 4:6). On this day, Christ’s descent from the highest heaven reaches to the lowest earth—from the highest heights to the deepest depths.

Holy Week: Friday

They took down the Body of Jesus

(John 19:40)

That’s how the day ends. An interesting “they” that took the dead body of Jesus down from the Cross. By surprise, the “they” were a couple of “secret disciples” named Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus who, on this day, both came out of secrecy to openly cared for Jesus’ dead body. Together with those faithful “women who had come with Jesus out of Galilee,” they lug the dead body of Jesus down from the Cross “wrap him in spices with linen cloths, and place him in a tomb.” Meanwhile, the Twelve, are nowhere to be found.

The Bible speaks of this day as “his passion” (Ac 1:3). The passion begins, when religious powers, tipped off by Judas’ kiss, arrest Jesus and put him on trial concerning his treatment of the temple and rather or not he claimed to be their long expected One. During these religious trials, a few folks spot Peter lingering in the courtyard and carry on a littler interrogation of their own: “Surely you are one of his disciples. The way you talk gives you away.” Peter begins to curse and swear, “I do not know the man!” When the cock crowed, Peter “wept bitterly.” While Peter weeps, Judas “repented and brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief priests and the elders” (Mt 27:3).

The religious powers can’t do what only Rome can do, so they hand Jesus over to Pilate, the Roman governor, who alone can do what the religious authorities want done. Before Rome, the charges against Jesus shift to a political nature: “This man forbids paying taxes to Caesar, and claims to be king” (Lk 23:2).  Pilate’s wife, another one of those women who seem to get something real about Jesus, tells her husband that she had a dream that Jesus was an innocent man. Pilate tries to evade his responsibility; but, in the end does what Rome does—sentences him to death by crucifixion.

After mocking and scourging by Pilate’s cohort; Jesus is sent out to carry his cross towards Golgotha. Along the way, Simon of Cyrene, who would later be known by the church in Rome as “the father of Alexander and Rufus” (Mk 15:21), takes upon himself Jesus’ cross and carries it the rest of the way towards Golgotha. (“Greet Rufus, chosen in the Lord; and greet his mother—she was a mother to me also” ((Rm 16:13)). It’s a greeting that comes some 25 years later, at the end of Paul’s letter to the Roman church. One gets the feeling Rufus, being the son of Simon, was of renown among believers. Somewhere during Paul’s journeys, Rufus’ mom, Simon’s wife, or maybe widow by this time, ended up taking in the Apostle. That’s too good not to parenthesize; isn’t it?)

We need not go into the brutality of Roman execution—Mel Gibson did that for us in his film The Passion. Enough to say that Jesus participated fully in the horrors of crucifixion—even to the point of forsakenness: “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?” How this day turned into “Good Friday” awaits Easter morning. For now, there is nothing “good” about it.

However, there was something different about it. Uncanny things happened: “Behold, the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom” (Mt 27:51). A strange darkness came over Golgotha while “the earth shook, and the rocks split” causing the military captain of the guard to say, “Truly this was the Son of God!” Was this Roman military officer the first to believe?

It will take Easter morning and more to sort it all out—that this execution had to do with us: “He was handed over to death for our trespasses” (Ro 4:25). I don’t suppose we ever, even in eternity, figure out the whole of it—how it is that God died on that Cross. As the hymn goes: “That Thou, my God, should die for me?”