When is the Resurrection?
April 1, 2018 § Leave a comment
I’m about to preach this at Evensong.
When did the resurrection take place? The Gospels are clear that it happened, of course. So shattering, so overwhelming was the realisation that Jesus had been raised from death that the Gospel writers are honest in depicting the reaction of the followers of Jesus. They are afraid, amazed, stunned into silence, need proof after proof. Their stumbling into the profound reality that the world had completely changed is one of the things which gives the fact of the resurrection truth for me.
But if it’s true, it must be possible to say when, exactly when, it happened. And the Gospel writers don’t know that information. All we have is a time frame: from the beginning of the Sabbath (at sunset) until the morning after the next morning. Two nights, and two dawns. That’s a lot of time for it to take place. The women find a scene long vacated by Jesus, with only the heavenly clean up team remaining. The newly raised Christ is out and about, meeting Mary Magdalene in the garden, meeting demoralised disciples on the walk out of Jerusalem, greeting the disciples in their locked room.
It is perhaps only a small point, asking when it happened. Yet in the circumstances of a death every detail is vital. Time of death, place of rest, notice in the paper, time of funeral, place of burial, type of stone on the memorial, approved wording for the epitaph. And as this process is interrupted, gloriously, there is no precise detail. Questions are met with other questions: “why look for the living in the place of the dead?” The resurrection is not to be categorised, filed, detailed, historicised. It is to be met.
When was the resurrection for Mary Magdalene? When she heard the voice of the man she thought was the gardener. When was it for Thomas? When he saw the wounds. When was it for Peter and John? When they met Jesus again and again, having seen the empty tomb and not known what to make of it. When was it for Peter and the other apostles? When they were fishing, and ate breakfast on the beach. When was it for the Emmaus walkers? When the bread was broken, and all the words on the road made sense.
When was, when is, the resurrection for us? When we meet the risen Christ.
That happens again and again for me, and often by surprise. To offer a few times: in the winter night shelter, as a new community ate together Saturday by Saturday. In a Lent Group, as profound things were shared between people who did not know each other well before. As I washed the feet of pupils from our school on Maundy Thursday. In the Intensive Therapy Unit later as a family of different faiths heard that their loved one had no signs of life and we gathered to commend her to the God she loved. As my feet were washed an hour later by my Bishop. As glorious music and words were offered on the evening of Good Friday. As I remembered the grief and hope of those who have lost their tiny ones and who have shared that grief and hope with me.
The cry of the church is a cry of faith, of hope, of worship, often from the depths as well as from the heights. At some point Jesus was raised. He is raised whenever we encounter his risen life. This Easter time, may you know that Christ is Risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia.