Easter Hope
One of the things that comforts me in Gospel accounts, is their plain honesty.
‘Christ has been raised from the dead,
the first fruits of those who have died…
Listen, I will tell you a mystery:
We will not all die, but we will all be changed,
in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet.
For the trumpet will sound,
and the dead will be raised imperishable,
and we will be changed.’
1 Corinthians 15: 20, 51-52
One of the greatest privileges of my calling is to minister alongside grieving families as they walk through what Psalm 23 calls “the valley of the shadow of death”. Even so, I profoundly object to death; it just feels plain wrong.
The hope of universal resurrection described by the Apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 15 scratches an itch felt by many of us. As Ecclesiastes 3.11 puts it, God ‘has set eternity in the human heart’ or, to put it another way, there is in the spirit of human beings a sense that we are meant to be more permanent than this transient mortal life might suggest. There is something deep within us that yearns for a blissful eternity, and this same something also protests at the very notion that death in this life might lead to everlasting nothingness.
Paul points his readers to the risen Jesus Christ and tells them in no uncertain terms that this resurrection is not a one-off event. Rather, it is but ‘the first fruit of those who have died’. Any instinct we have that death is somehow wrong is perfectly in tune with this ‘mystery’: ‘We will not all die,’ says Paul, ‘but we will all be changed…’
Some seem to accept this hope-filled mystery without much struggle. Others dismiss it as wishful thinking. But many less conclusive souls find themselves caught somewhere between the two extremes. I confess that I cannot fully comprehend it all myself - it is, after all, a mystery - but, even so, I do have faith that it is true.
One of the things that comforts me in Gospel accounts, is their plain honesty about the way the friends of Jesus were so grief stricken at his death on Good Friday, even though he had repeatedly told them that his death would be but the prelude to his rising again.
The earliest manuscripts of the earliest Gospel of Mark end with these words: ‘Trembling and bewildered, the women went and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.’ (Mark 16.8).
It seems a strange way to end an account of the so-called “Good News”, and yet it sure does resonate with the way many of us feel in the wake of a loved-one’s death. Death can feel as solid, cold and permanent as stone. Any thought of a reversal seems like wishful thinking.
So how are we to hold onto hope of resurrection when faced with the reality of death? I am reminded of a cemetery in Hanover, Germany, which contains a grave on which were placed huge slabs of granite and marble, cemented together and fastened with heavy steel clasps. It belongs to a woman who very strongly did not believe in the resurrection of the dead. Yet strangely, she directed in her will that her grave be made so secure that, even if there were a resurrection, it could not reach her! On one of the stones were inscribed these words:
"This burial place must never be opened."
The folly of this woman’s wishes is now evident for all to see. Over time, a seed, covered over by the stones, began to grow. Slowly it pushed its way through the soil and out from beneath them. As the trunk enlarged, the great slabs were gradually shifted so that the steel clasps were wrenched from their sockets. Over time, a tiny seed had become a tree that had pushed aside the stones.
In our times of deepest grief, belief in the resurrection hope of Easter may appear as pointless as that tiny seed appears pointless buried beneath tons of granite, marble and steel. But don’t stop believing, because, even the faintest grain of life, so easily dismissed, contains the very same power that first brought this universe to birth. The message of Christ invites us to trust that it will do so again.
Every Blessing
Rev Mark Hammond
March 2023