As one of my favourite
Easter hymns puts it: ‘the strife is o’er, the battle done; now is the Victor’s
triumph won; O let the song of praise be sung; Alleluia!’
The journey through Lent is
a long one. Some of us have travelled together using the book Say it to God
by Luigi Gioia, the Archbishop of Canterbury’s Lent Book for this year. I found
it a very helpful book that helped us to explore some aspects of prayer that we
perhaps don’t often think about it.
Just this last week, some
of us have journeyed together with the daily services and sermons. In the
sermons I have been exploring different aspects of love that, for me, come out
of the readings for Holy Week: on Monday we had the extravagant love of Mary
who poured out the expensive ointment; on Tuesday we reflected on love that
need to be released, like the grain that needs to go into the earth and die; on
Wednesday, it was the love that loves in the face of betrayal; on Thursday, the
love that stoops to serve and put others first; on Friday, the love that suffers;
and yesterday it was the love that conquers.
Love drove the women to
the tomb, even though they didn’t know how they would roll the stone away.
When we think about
Christ’s love, it is all too easy to think about it in very general ways. One
of the biggest mistakes of the modern Church has been making the faith and
worship too individualised, too private a matter. Everything becomes relative
and subjective, and this leads to great error. The other extreme though is to
make it so universal and general that it never really hits home in our own
lives and in our own hearts.
I like John’s story of
the Resurrection because it provides a beautiful illustration of a wonderful characteristic
of Christ’s love. The men rush away and return to their homes, only really
seeing half of the story. They only see that Jesus is not in the tomb: they did
not see the risen Christ.
Mary lingers. Love
compels her to stay and grieve a while. Love compels her to wait. It is then
that she hears that question: ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ Her weeping
matters. Her grief matters. Her feelings matter. In the same way, our
experiences and our feelings matter because they make us who we are.
In her grief, she
explains her weeping: ‘They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where
they have laid him.’ In other words, ‘I cannot find Christ’.
There are many times in
our lives when it feels that we have somehow lost touch of Christ, when Christ
seems so far away from us. Spiritually speaking, these are sometimes the most
painful and desolate times. ‘I cannot find him’.
The story continues when
Jesus stands beside her but she cannot recognise him. He even speaks to her but
she cannot recognise his voice. I often wonder why she didn’t recognise him. I
often wonder why we too find it so hard to see Christ’s presence in our lives
at times. But we do. We find it difficult.
It is at this point that
we learn an important lesson about Christ’s love. Christ died on the cross, and
rose again, thereby claiming victory over sin and death. All is won. All is
accomplished. Through this, eternal life is won for all of humanity. But the
lesson is this: It was when Jesus spoke her name that she recognised him. The
first time he speaks to her he says ‘Woman’. In the Greek, this is not as rude
as it sounds in English, but it is general. It is not specific. When Jesus
speaks her name, it is specific. In that moment, Mary knows that she is known.
Mary knows that she belongs. Mary knows that this is the person for whom she is
longing.
Love is general, but it is
also specific. Christ’s love is for all people and his victory is for all
people, but it is also specific and speaks into the hearts of all who are
willing to listen. The battle is done and the victory won. All that is needed
for salvation has already been accomplished. This is done for all people, at
all times and in all places. But it is also done for each one of us.
May we, like Mary, hear
the Lord call our name and recognise that he is risen.
Alleluia! Christ is
risen!
