Over Easter Breakfast
- Details
- Written November 2020
I've been remembering a few Easters this week:
· A Good Friday meeting in Port Elizabeth, South Africa when they announced the death of two brothers travelling on a motorbike the night before. I knew them well. O, the tragedy of South Africa's roads each Easter.
· A few thousand gathered on the steps of Cape Town's Rhodes Memorial for the sunrise service, Margaret's father ensuring that the fanfare coincided exactly with sunrise. And one year a dozen or more killed when a bus went out of control careering down the slopes after the service.
· Easter at Watford as cadets in the 60s when the leader pounced on me to give our listeners my proof that Jesus really was dead. Did I sound hardly convinced myself? If you have some easy answers do let me know.
· The series of Holy Week services in the hospital chapel at Chikankata, sometimes including the breaking of bread, another the washing of feet and always ending with quiet meditation in our back garden under a pascal moon. And Good Friday with Christ-thorn from our garden. And then the early morning sunrise service on Easter Hill with hundreds of hallelujahs.
· A procession through the streets of Bapatla, India, the Christ riding a donkey, then at a series of stops, enactment of some of the events of the week: the trial, the flogging, bearing the cross, and even crucifixion. Their story ended there. No resurrection yet?
· And a year later a similar event in Madras where, having fasted for 24 hours before, the Christ was tied to the cross. He fainted and started twitching. I knew if we left him there he would suffer irreversible brain damage at least. I insisted they take him down. His mother rushed forward weeping and wailing. He recovered.
· Being part of a Good Friday procession in Durban, South Africa, with leaders taking it in turns to share in carrying the cross, and joining Father Michael Lapsley on the platform when he read the scriptures, turning the pages with his artificial hands. He had lost his in a letter bomb attack during South Africa's freedom struggle.
· Joining Christians Together in Bromley at a measured pace behind a hard-working Salvation Army band playing Rockingham: 'When I Survey the Wondrous Cross' and noticing the cross was being wheeled rather than carried. That's cheating, I thought. Never mind; few others probably noticed.
Enough reminiscing!
Yesterday I sat in the garden sharing morning coffee and hot cross buns with Wendy. Some of the daffodils have drooped; others are still in bloom. And the tulips are out. A few more pictures of the garden here: Good Friday in the Garden
The cross and resurrection are a single event, my Indian theological friends insisted. Life and death belong together. Not one without the other. Even in a week in which we receive the unwelcome news of the death of friends and colleagues and remember loved ones no longer with us, we can not only live with hope for life beyond death, but also embrace life in all its fullness now. Tomorrow is Easter Day!
Happy Easter and for all days to come.
April 2020