When I was growing up Easter was the day for new clothes, especially big, flowery hats for women. If Sunday was for your best, Easter was for new!
There was once a little boy, sitting in an Easter service amidst a congregation all dressed in their Easter finery, who was asked by his mother, “Do you know what day it is?” Quick as a flash after looking around at all the people dressed up in new clothes and hats, “Decoration Day!”
I guess there’s a theological rationale for new clothes as well as wearing your best on Sunday. Not that anyone is judged by how they dress or appear, but the tradition was to stand in God’s presence the best way one could. And at Easter, when the church celebrated that God had done something very new in Jesus, especially in the resurrection, wearing something new might emphasize that. But apart from wearing those new or best clothes, and seeing lots of lilies in church that blasted those with allergies off the map, I don’t recall much excitement about Easter. Oh, there was the mandatory singing of Christ the Lord is Risen today but apart from that, Easter was never a great festival; not like Christmas. We didn’t expect huge crowds to show up just because it was Easter; not like Christmas when the custodian had to put out extra chairs down the centre and side aisles. No Easter was a confusing time. We got a holiday from school for some reason; I never connected it with a religious observance though.
At home, we expected some Easter candies, hopefully one of those chocolate bunnies or chickens. Sometimes we got little fuzzy chickens in brightly coloured straw baskets that were filled with this cellophane grass on which the mystical bunny had laid his coloured eggs. And somehow, this meant that God cared for me in spite of the little pest I had been. At least so my parents told me.
Even today, for the most part, Easter doesn’t feel all that special, even though it is the peak of the church year, the pinnacle toward which the year moves as we walk with Jesus from his birth, maturity, ministry and sacrifice. But so important was Easter for the early church that they instituted Lent, a 40 day preparation for Easter following by the great 50 days of Easter until Pentecost when the church celebrated God launching the church with the spirit. But now in most churches, Christmas takes more energy and draws more excitement; even crowds.
But it’s Easter and there is some history behind Easter eggs beyond the bunnies and the chickens. There is evidence that the early Christians saw the egg as a symbol of immortality. Archaeologists found in a tomb believed to be that of St. Peter, evidence of egg shells that indicate that early Christians may have celebrated or remembered Peter by eggs at a special meal.
Most of us are familiar with some of the Easter stories. We know about the women going to the tomb, early on Easter morning and finding it empty. There is also the story of the disciples gathered behind locked doors when Jesus appeared. And then there’s the story of Jesus walking and talking with disciples as they journeyed toward Emmaus. And another about Jesus showing up at a beach barbeque after the disciples had gone back to their former lives of fishing in Galilee.
Now I ask you, if you had a face-to-face with a person resurrected from the dead would you be able to go back home and go back to work? On one of those occasions, Jesus had told them to “go into all the world and make disciples, baptizing them, teaching them all that I have commanded you.” What happened to that command? Rather than do it, they had gone home, given up on this disciple thing; gone fishing.
Is that the way we would have handled it? One can understand handling Good Friday that way. After seeing Jesus killed, I think I would have run for the hills too! Maybe I would be next. Go home Dal, no one would associate you with that Jesus, not way out the valley.
But after the resurrection? After seeing him, not once but many times; how could they go back home then?
Well, honestly, it’s easier dealing with birth and a death than a resurrection; a beginning and an end; but a rebirth, a resurrection. Most, including those of Jesus’ time believed in something called a resurrection after death; an eternal life with God, a Valhalla, a spiritual existence; something that would happen in the distant future after we die. But when the risen Christ encountered the disciples, they weren’t in heaven. They were in Jerusalem and in Galilee!
The problem for them; for us is that Easter forces us to deal with the resurrection now and not sometime in the future. Like then, we would be shocked. The gospel writers struggle for words to describe the experience. Jesus was there but not there. You could see him, but not touch him, sometimes. “Don’t touch,” he says, “I’ve not yet ascended to my Father.” In another place he says, “feel my hands, see it’s really me.” Could you touch or not touch? They had as much difficulty understanding this as we. It’s not too difficult to believe and even accept that someday, we might see Jesus, but not today. We’ve not died, we’re here. This is earth.
The disciples like us need a dose of reality. Let’s go fishing. Let’s go home, get back to work. Sensible. After any trauma, death, tragedy – helpful friends urge us to get back to work, lose yourself in the habitual, the routine. That’s what the disciples did. But it’s interesting that they weren’t trying to get past a death; they were trying to deal with the trauma of life; eternal life, resurrection – Jesus standing there, right in front of them.
So the story goes they went fishing but didn’t catch anything. They’re failures as fishermen, just as they’ve been failures as disciples. They don’t like failure – we don’t like failure either. The cross stands there in front of us constantly. The world sees failure, empty nets, empty crosses.
And then, they see him again. He’s standing on the beach. “Caught anything?” “Nope!” “Cast your nets over there.” They rush ashore. The scene is so ordinary. Guys sitting on the beach sharing a breakfast. And yet that’s Jesus glory. It’s not simply that Jesus is raised but that he appears, he comes to us, here and now; doesn’t wait until late. There, in Galilee, an ordinary workday. It is there they meet the risen Christ, or rather where he meets them; where he meets us – in the ordinary.
Oh, it’s nice to have a special day, a special time and place; a church, a mountain top, the setting sun over the beach but there’s something to be said about this story that gives me hope and that is that Jesus meets us everyday, in everyplace, anyplace. It is there and here that Easter is its most glorious.
Whenever we celebrate communion I say things like: in this ordinary bread and juice, we are reminded that Jesus comes to us. And even without, the presence of Christ is revealed. We don’t need special food. We don’t need a special place or a special time. Jesus says he will come to us, if we but see. In the ordinary things of life, God comes to us. In the simple breathe you have just taken in, your life is renewed and restored. In the last heart beat you never even felt, your body is reborn. Thank goodness we do not have to wait for eternity for God.
When we gather around dinner tonight, share a coffee and a bun, it isn’t the food, nor the words that makes our time holy, it is those with whom we share that make an ordinary time, a special one. Every meal, can become a sacrament, “an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Easter is not filled with new commandments or orders for the fight, it is God’s promise that when we return to Galilee, North and West Vancouver, wherever we are right now to resume whatever it is that we were doing before we tuned in, that’s where God will meet us. That’s where God calls us, feed us, gathers us, strengthens us in the very real here and now! And this is our hope and our exultation. At least that’s the way I see it.