Grief or Gladness: the dilemma of Easter Saturday

I’m always confused about how to behave on the big feast/holy days through the year.

I am unhappy to ‘pretend’ to be an Israelite waiting for their Messiah, or a Shepherd hearing the angel’s good news (Advent and Christmas). We live in the aftermath of Jesus’ incarnation and we are in fact waiting for his return.

But I also appreciate the power of re-enactment. The nativity play somehow keeps the story alive, it reminds us of the cost. Buy also, Nativity plays are quite cute.

So imagine how I feel about Holy Week?!

In an even more profound sense, the faux-mourning and pretend grief get up my nose a bit. Why do we play-act at sadness? We live in the aftermath of Easter…that joyous defeat of death.

Furthermore, the reading from John 2 on Easter Saturday (I do prefer the moniker ‘Holy Saturday’ or ‘Silent Saturday’) drives this point home:

“18 The Jews then responded to him, “What sign can you show us to prove your
authority to do all this?” 19 Jesus answered them, “Destroy this temple, and I
will raise it again in three days.” 20 They replied, “It has taken forty-six
years to build this temple, and you are going to raise it in three days?” 21 But
the temple he had spoken of was his body. 22 After he was raised from the dead,
his disciples recalled what he had said. Then they believed the scripture and
the words that Jesus had spoken.” (John 2:18-22, NIV)

The disciples had been told there would be a middle day. They just hadn’t remembered. But we do??! We know what follows Saturday.

So shouldn’t we actually be rather more upbeat about all this? Why mope about as though we had been abandoned by Jesus – let down, etc. Once we pass Good Friday shouldn't we get rather more excited - like the anticipation of a long-awaited film, or the return of a long-travelling loved one?

Perhaps; perhaps not.

But in truth I’m rather glad we re-live the grief. For, for in truth, as many commentators suggest, we find solace in Easter Saturday because our own lives are marked by great sorrow and sadness, abandonment and confusion. There is comfort in knowing God is comfortable with silent tears.

I think, however, we must remember Paul’s injunction in 1 Thessalonians to “not grieve as others who have no hope” (1 Thes. 4:13). We grieve with hope.

And this is perhaps why Easter Saturday is the great climax of Lent. The last day we use the Lenten liturgy.

After spending time during Lent meditating on our sin, we find ourselves in Holy Week reading from Lamentations which suggests we should respond in silence (Lam 2:10), penitence (2:10), weeping (v. 11, 18), crying out to God (v.18 – much like the Psalmist in Psalm 142, the morning prayer psalm for Easter Saturday), a sense in which we come and pour our heart out before God (v.19). This is no play acting. And yet is precisely the range of activites we imagine the disciples engaging in. We come on Easter Saturday and sit in our own place. We now know Jesus is resurrected, but this understanding also makes us realise our part in his death – it was not a failed political venture, but a great act of mercy.

I am constantly, throughout Lent, repeating in worship and in private prayer the great cry from Hosea: “Come, let us return to the LORD.”

There is great promise in Hosea – that God will heal, bind up, revive, raise up, but also that he’ll appear and come. (Hosea 6:1-6)

This Easter Saturday – knowing the full extent of God’s mercy – Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again – we may be moved to tears – that he did all this for me. In my sin, my own most grievous sin – he did all this for me. So perhaps my tears aren’t just from grief, but gratitude too.

Passiontide - Day 1

The 5th Sunday of Lent sees a shift in the tone of the season - it grows heavier, darker, deeper, sadder and more focused, almost transfixed to the cross.

Hence the reading, John 12:20-33, which is focused on the cost of the cross. But so many of us miss this...

Holy week is a funny thing you see. We have this dark, contemplative season where in a spirit of introspection and self-examination we seek to walk with Jesus and discern the many and varied ways our walk has become hobbled. Through Lent I realise that my walk is hampered by a limp, by ill-fitting shoes, by a rocky road...and then we hit Palm Sunday, which is all-too-often a joyous celebration. We play act and frankly lose the sheer irony of the day.

Yes - Jesus entered triumphally, but we know how it pans out. Why do we celebrate? Surely the spirit of lenten sadness should move us to weep that so many so quickly deserted Jesus, including his own.

And then we stumble into Easter Day - the high point in our calendar.

Consider this...if you take the four Sundays including Mothering Sunday (4th Sunday in Lent) you can quite easily lose entirely the Lent theme: Mothers' Day, 5th Sunday, Palm Sunday, and Easter Day...the effect is exacerbated if one doesn't go to any church events during Holy Week...one could ignore the agony of the cross entirely!

Therefore - allow me to try and take you on that path of lamentation that Passiontide requires...

In John 12:20-33 we find Jesus in a deeply contemplative mood. "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified". Not quite the response Andrew and Philip expect when informing Jesus he has some guests to entertain. One writer has suggested that the disciples have had to 'find' Jesus as he was withdrawing from public ministry. He is all too aware that his purpose was about to be fulfilled.

But this is not just his purpose - but he teaches us a valuable and essential Christian principle, "unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds"...and He goes on to repeat his thoughts on what discipleship looks like...a choice between life and death.

In our cell group we have been wrestling at length over this issue of following Jesus. In Mark 8 Jesus says you must deny yourself, take up your cross, and follow. And we began to think the three things are separate...the first is about submission, which requires us to let go of our own agenda and ambition; the third is about obedience. But taking up your cross is not just a euphemism for 'deny yourself'...it speaks directly to what needs to happen to us - we have to die, not just make a decision to serve or submit.

Like Jesus we too have to die. Paul writes about this in Romans 6: "We died to sin" (v.2)

Death...it's not something I seek, but Jesus seems to be saying, "pursue death, run at it, ensure that you have been killed off - you are useless to me as you are - your sinful self will prevent my greater glory, and oddly - will stop you living. You are worth more to me dead than alive - for when your zombie nature is killed, then you can be really alive, for I shall bring resurrection. This shadowland you currently live in is as nothing compared to the bright gloriousness of you as you are truly meant to be..."

....And still...fear remains.

But trust is essential - and obedience. I follow; he leads.

And even Jesus shrank away from the fact of his death. Even he, my Lord and King. Even he said - I am scared of death, but for God's glory, and his known purpose he set his face toward the cross.

And that is passiontide. The fixing of Jesus' face on the cross. It is where our eyes must also turn. We must look upon the horror and glory of the cross...and in our turn, follow.

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

We've travelled a long way since last blogging...we've moved through the final day of Advent, through Christmas, Epiphany, some Ordinary time, and now we're well ensconced in Lent.

I'll be quite blunt. I'm really quite down at the minute - lots of externals in my life are going well, very well in some cases, but there are some personal problems bubbling along that are really tough to handle.

So I've been quite blessed - and comforted by the following hymn and its story:

The hymn 'O Love that will not let me go' was written by George Matheson.

'O Love That Will Not Let Me Go' was written on the evening of Matheson’s sister’s marriage.

His whole family had gone to the wedding and had left him alone. Quite odd you would suggest? And he writes of something which had happened to him that caused immense mental anguish.

There is a story of how years before, Matheson had been engaged. That was until his fiancé learned that he was going blind, and there was nothing the doctors could do. So she told him that she could not go through life with a blind man; and left him.

He went blind while studying for the ministry, and his sister had been the one who had taken care of him all these years, but now she too is gone.

Matheson had been a brilliant student, some say that if he hadn’t went blind he could have been the leader of the church of Scotland in his day. He had written a learned work on German theology and then wrote “The Growth of The Spirit of Christianity.” Louis Benson says this was a brilliant book but with some major mistakes in it. When some critics pointed out the mistakes and charged him with being an inaccurate student, he was heartbroken. One of his friends wrote, “When he saw that for the purposes of scholarship his blindness was a fatal hindrance, he withdrew from the field – not without pangs, but finally.”

So he turned to the pastoral ministry, and the Lord has richly blessed him, finally bringing him to a church where he regularly preached to over 1500 people each week.

But he was only able to do this because of the care of his sister and now she was married and gone.

Who will care for him, a blind man?

Not only that, but his sister’s marriage brought fresh reminder of his own heartbreak, over his fiancé’s refusal to “go through life with a blind man.”

It is the midst of this circumstance and intense sadness that the Lord gives him this hymn – written he says in 5 minutes! Looking back over his life, he once wrote that his was “an obstructed life, a circumscribed life… but a life of quenchless hopefulness, a life which has beaten persistently against the cage of circumstance, and which even at the time of abandoned work has said not “Good night” but “Good morning.”"

How could he maintain quenchless hopefulness in the midst of such circumstances and trials? His hymn gives us a clue.

“I trace the rainbow in the rain, and feel the promise is not vain” The rainbow image is a picture of the Lord’s commitment! It is a picture of the battle bow that appears when the skies are darkening and threaten to open up and flood the world again in judgment. But then we see that the battle bow is turned not towards us – but toward the Lord Himself!


O Love that will not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that followest all my way,
I yield my flickering torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.


- Amen -



There's a beautiful modern version by Jason Sears on Spotify. There's also a great live version on Jason's blog.

I'm also grateful to igracemusic.com for informing me of this story.

The end of Advent

And so we reach the end of Advent...in a flurry, in a maelstrom of wrapping paper and tinsel. It's such a shame.

We start with the Advent cry...O Come...and maybe end with the whispered plea, 'Let it end!'.

Many of us can't honestly say when we switch into Christmas mode. For some, Advent is entirely about preparing for Christmas - after all we have Advent Calendars? For others it starts with decorations, or the first mince pie, or the office party, or the finish of school, or the first carol service...many differing views, but what seems clear is that it is virtually impossible to cling resolutely to Advent as distinct from Christmas throughout all four weeks - at some point we forget this season and focus on the next.

Now please don't think I'm trying to be some sort of liturgical Grinch...I think it is important to present opportunities for Christians and non-Christians to prepare for the celebration of Jesus' birth.

But when the season becomes increasingly focused on the past rather than the future, then I fear Advent loses its penitential flavour.

I have read, every year for the last decade, a book by Patrick Cowley, 'Advent - its liturgical significance'. I love Cowley's straightforward style and I will doubtless refer back to this often in coming years, but, for now, one quote:

"Because of the unpredictableness of the end, [we] must live under the impendingness of it, and be ready to encounter it. This means that, particularly in Advent, [one] must be alert to his true self, and examine his spiritual stature in order to know whether he is growing in grace or evil. It is for this reason that the Advent season is a penitential one."

The last day of Advent is Christmas Eve. The evening prayer readings for the day are still Advent readings, and I am struck by the choice of Revelation 1:1-8. This is the prologue to John's vision of the end. It deserves quoting:

"To him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by his blood, and has made us to be a kingdom and priests to serve his God and Father—to him be glory and power for ever and ever! Amen.

“Look, he is coming with the clouds,”
and “every eye will see him,
even those who pierced him”;
and all peoples on earth “will mourn because of him.”
So shall it be! Amen.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.”" (Rev. 1:5-8)

Let me ask - at the end of this Advent are you more aware of your need of a Saviour? And are you more eagerly awaiting Jesus' return? Are you clearer than ever why Jesus came: first to save, and again to reign? Do we see the sin that clings to us, and to the world. Do we echo the Advent cry - Come, Lord Jesus!

I hope you have a brilliant Christmas - enjoy it - feast - be merry and celebrate - life needs moments of joy and sharing. But I do hope and pray that Advent has drawn you closer to God.

The following is an Advent hymn I've never sung before - but hope to in future. It perhaps more than any other carol has in both hands Advent and Christmas. I hope it stirs you to seek the indwelling presence of Christ.

When came in flesh the incarnate Word,

The heedless world slept on,

And only simple shepherds heard

That God had sent His Son.

When comes the Savior at the last,

From east to west shall shine

The awful pomp, and earth aghast

Shall tremble at the sign.

Then shall the pure of heart be blest;

As mild He comes to them,

As when upon the virgin’s breast

He lay at Bethlehem.

As mild to meek eyed love and faith,

Only more strong to save;

Strengthened by having bowed to death,

By having burst the grave.

Lord, who could dare see Thee descend

In state, unless he knew

Thou art the sorrowing sinner’s Friend,

The gracious and the true?

Dwell in our hearts, O Savior blest;

So shall Thine advent’s dawn

’Twixt us and Thee, our bosom Guest,

Be but the veil withdrawn.

Lord of your home?

O Antiphons - Day 2 (18th December) - O Adonai

O come, O come, great Lord of might,
Who to Thy tribes on Sinai’s height
In ancient times once gave the law
In cloud and majesty and awe.

The antiphon for the day is:

O Adonai, and leader of the House of Israel,
who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush
and gave him the law on Sinai:
Come and redeem us with an outstretched arm.

We had our carol service tonight. It was beautiful. The choir sang a beautiful lullaby written by John Rutter.

Also in the service, the vicar (Paul) asked a very painful question, "How would your home look if it was under the gentle rule of Jesus?"

Ouch!

Well, I confess that my home does not always confess that Jesus is Lord. Sorry. My life is all too often about creeds and liturgy, rather than a life lived with Jesus as my personal Lord.

Jesus' claim of Lordship over my life is not based on frippery and flaky philosophy, but as a consequence of his true nature. We see Jesus in the burning bush - see Jesus giving Moses the law on Sinai. Lordship based on holiness and righteousness. The Jesus we worship as a babe is also, and is eternally, the Lord of all.

Once again I am driven to admit that I do not trust Jesus enough. Yes - Jesus is my saviour.

But the challenge in Advent, as we look to his return - a return that might come tomorrow - is Jesus my Lord? Is he yours?

Jesus our wisdom

O Antiphons - Day 1 (17th December) - O Sapientia

Jesus is somewhat mystically described as our wisdom...in Veni Veni Emmanuel the verse says:

O come, Thou Wisdom from on high,
Who orderest all things mightily;
To us the path of knowledge show,
And teach us in her ways to go.

The antiphon is:

O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
reaching from one end to the other mightily,
and sweetly ordering all things:
Come and teach us the way of prudence.

Let me say now...I am quite a stupid person. Sure I'm fairly well read, intelligent by most standards, and a graduate from a top university, but I am prone to making some stupid decisions. Sometimes I'm daft because I'm motivated by sin, sometimes lack of energy, sometimes because I didn't think things through...

During Advent I am forced to conclude that I am desperately needful of God's wisdom. I am also forced to conclude that I am desperately forgetful of this need. Jesus comes to bring fulness of life and this includes wisdom and insight. We get some of this wisdom by reading his Word, but also from His Spirit dwelling with us. We must also conclude that when we read Jesus' teaching we are struck by his clarity of thought, insight, and wisdom.

Another thought to consider is the way the Bible refers to wisdom as part of the creative process. Wisdom was present at creation. Jesus is wisdom, and we read in Colossians that He created the world. Scientific knowledge demonstrates how amazingly intricate and astonishing the natural world is - how utterly awe-inspiring it is - and Jesus thought it all up. The baby in the manger thought up everything.

But how often do we marginalise this aspect of Christ's nature? Do we really understand that nothing and noone offers more wisdom than Jesus?

32 “Now then, my children, listen to me;
blessed are those who keep my ways.
33 Listen to my instruction and be wise;
do not disregard it.
34 Blessed are those who listen to me,
watching daily at my doors,
waiting at my doorway.
35 For those who find me find life
and receive favor from the LORD.
36 But those who fail to find me harm themselves;
all who hate me love death.” (Proverbs 8:32-36)

Prayer:
Father God, this Advent and Christmas give me the desire to turn to you for wisdom, for insight, for guidance in all matters of life. Help me do this daily, for by turning to you each day Lord we will be ever mindful of your return. Amen.

Tomorrow, I come...

"Heaven and earth shall flee away, when he comes to reign"
"We shall see him; but in heaven"
"Born to raise the sons of earth, born to give them second birth"
"Cast out our sin, and enter in"
"Fit us for heaven"

We sing these words lots this time of year...

Seriously, we do!

Amidst the frankly romanticised and misty-eyed images of little towns, mangers, sheep and babies we sing, in our carols, some profoundly challenging words. Our Advent carols often carry dark images of Jesus return, but we can overlook the references in the traditional Christmas carols too.

And I think this is entirely appropriate...

Advent (for we are still in it) is a penitential season. But somehow if all I do at the end of the season is pretend that I'm an ancient Jew longing for a Messiah, or merely observing (in song) Jesus' nativity (like Harry Potter in Dumbledore's pensieve) then how, precisely, am I minded to penitence? We must remain fixed on the dual vision of Advent - both of Jesus' coming.

From 17th December, at evening prayer (vespers) before reciting the Magnificat (Mary's song of praise from Luke) the 'O Antiphons' are used. I blogged about this here. These antiphons focus on aspects of Jesus' nature, names he is given. The acrostic phrase, 'Ero Cras', means 'Tomorrow I come'...

Careful meditation on the theme of Christ's return drives us to consider themes of judgment, heaven, hell, resurrection...and naturally our own preparation.

We sing of being ready for heaven, for a life cleansed of sin. With Christmas but one week away, I will spend some time thinking (briefly) about each of the names of Jesus from this acrostic, and how we might be prepared for His return.