Fugitive Memory
Forgetting comes easier as I get older, in fact it often comes whether I like it or not. Some of you have yet to reach this challenge. But for many, regardless of age, Easter is over now. It was just last weekend but already the experience is gone from memory; a brief interlude in time. For many Bank Holiday Monday is more memorable than Good Friday or Easter Sunday and the weather often makes the Holiday forgettable too. Easter, like Christmas is long in anticipation but short in fulfilment.
It was different 2,000 years ago. Easter was not anticipated by followers of Christ and its fulfilment was horrific, burned indelibly into memory. They were stunned, scattered, fearful and confused. How could this happen? Their Master, so full of power, who always bested his enemies, had died on a cross! They had seen the miracles—he walked on water, commanded storms, even raised the dead; and now, he was dead himself. It was incomprehensible. They had sensed the strength and dominance of the Son of God compared with rulers of this world; he won every debate, overcame every trap, avoided every danger. It seemed human efforts could not contain him—until now. Perhaps they hoped against hope that he would escape at the last moment, that the nightmare was some kind of temporary, living parable in his extraordinary teaching. Maybe a few even thought he might miraculously descend from the cross, conquer the Romans and redeem Israel. But no: the Master was dead.
Then there were practical considerations for their own safety. The followers of a condemned criminal were considered criminals themselves and could be arrested at any moment, then crucified as well. The soldiers of the Sanhedrin were roaming the streets. Informers were everywhere: “Did that stranger’s lingering look mean he recognised that I travelled with Him? Was I followed here to the meeting place?” These perhaps were the fears of his disciples as they met together in small groups behind closed doors. And what about the rumours going round: “A few of the women say they’ve seen him—alive! But that’s impossible, just female hysteria. Mind you, there’s a whisper that the High Priest himself is troubled. Something about the guards at the tomb, a dereliction of duty, they say. Ran away frightened or something. Don’t know what that’s about. Anyway, what do we do next? Where do we go? What happens now?”
The glorious message of Easter Sunday was only gradually revealed. Mary Magdalene was first to see her resurrected Lord; shortly after he appeared to other women. Initially they were not believed, the Bible says their story was considered “idle tales”. Then more things began to happen. Later that same day Jesus appeared to Peter, then Luke and Cleopas on the road to Emmaus, then to a large group of disciples in a closed room where some, at least, were “terrified and affrighted”, thinking they were seeing a ghost. The scripture says:
38 And he said unto them, Why are ye troubled? and why do thoughts arise in your hearts?
39 Behold my hands and my feet, that it is I myself: handle me, and see; for a spirit hath not flesh and bones, as ye see me have.
40 And when he had thus spoken, he shewed them his hands and his feet.
41 And while they yet believed not for joy, and wondered, he said unto them, Have ye here any meat?
42 And they gave him a piece of a broiled fish, and of an honeycomb.
43 And he took it, and did eat before them.
(Luke 24:38-43)
This is very significant. Some Christian churches believe Jesus is a spirit, that his resurrection was not literal or permanent. Yet according to scripture, he went out of his way to demonstrate the physicality of his resurrected body, not just on Easter Sunday—many other appearances followed and many hundreds saw and touched the resurrected Lord. So, the first Easter was far from over a week later. Jerusalem was seething, a thousand tongues were wagging. At first only a few fully understood the wonderful truth of the Easter message: that because of our Saviour’s resurrection, we will also be resurrected.
As I wrote this post yesterday, I heard news that the Duke of Edinburgh had died. I believe he was a good and honourable man. He was faithful to his wife, cared for his family, did much good in the world and spoke his mind—a rare quality in today’s woke world. I never knew him of course, but from what I saw from afar, I think I would have liked him. All in all, a life well lived and worthy of respect and national remembrance. But on the same day around 150,000 people worldwide died as well. Few as prominent as HRH Prince Philip, but many good and great lives yet none, no matter how great, no matter their wealth, had power over death. Ninety-nine year olds, nine year olds, powerful politicians, heads of state, captains of industry—all subject to mortality. I mentioned in a previous post that death is part of life. Only one man born into this world had power over death, yet chose to die, to voluntarily give up his life in the most agonising manner possible, because he loved us. As a result of the crucifixion and resurrection of the Prince of Peace, death is not an end for Prince Philip or the poorest pauper dying in unremembered obscurity. It is the beginning of a new and glorious chapter in our eternal existence and we will find in that next life that position and reward are based on entirely different criteria than in this life (and I am inclined to think, unlike some prominent rulers, Prince Philip’s celestial report card will have a high score). The Saviour’s infinite suffering, death and resurrection was motivated by love and obedience: love for you and me, love for his Father, and total, complete submission to his Father’s will. So death was conquered and we shall all be resurrected. Through repentance and our own obedience we may be exalted. Of this I am absolutely certain. This is the true significance of Easter and the reason we should not forget it so quickly, or neglect his Gospel.