Each year I feel I learn something new at Easter- some new aspect of the celebration comes alive to me. This year the theme was the disciples, and what Easter weekend was like for them.
I got to attend 2 different church services. One was our missionary church; we sang together and listened to a recorded Easter sermon. We also decorated a wicker cross with flowers picked from the jungle and gardens.
The other service I attended was a sunrise service at a local Honduran church. We gathered at the top of a hill overlooking the jungle, fields, and ocean around the time of sunrise. The cloudy sky obscured the actual sunbeans as it rose, but as I looked around the circle of 20 farmers, housemoms, and children, it struck me that this was probably more like the group of disciples than any other church service I've been to. Humble, poor, mostly uneducated, small timid group. This was the type of group Jesus hung out with for 3 years, poured into, tried to tell about what was coming. They didn't really get it. They eventually realized he was the son of God, the Messiah, but even that they got wrong. They expected a military ruler, someone to overthrow the oppression of the Romans. Certainly not someone who was going to be killed in the most humiliating painful way possible by the very Romans they expected him to conquer. Jesus told them the end of the story- that He would rise and conquer death, but they were confused. When you look at any evidence through your own biased lens, a lot of times you miss the truth of the statement. When he told them he would rise again, they didn't hear it, couldn't hear it, through the clamoring of their own expectations.
Sunday morning, the women go to the tomb to prepare his body. The men are clustered together at home, leaning on each other for solace. They didn't know the end of the story. This wasn't a "wait another few painful hours, then everything is going to be ok" kind of weekend. This was a "our worlds have been shattered and we don't know how to put them back together again." Everything they thought about Jesus had been proved wrong (or so they thought), and their family and friends who told them they were crazy for following this rabbi were saying "I told you so." The men probably felt crushed that the leader of their cause was now dead; the women may have felt a different kind of grief. Jesus was the person who elevated them to the status of equals in their very male-dominated society. He publicly acknowledged them, congratulated them for their faith and devotion, told others to follow their example. He was never condescending or dismissive. He just loved them as equals, and validated their existence. Now he was gone.
I love the shock and surprise and irony written into the accounts of the women encountering the risen Jesus. First of all, he appeared first to women. If you were writing a story and wanted it to be accepted as truth in the Middle East, the testimony of women was worthless. Yet the writers of the gospels tell us the story of Jesus appearing to women, and sending them to tell the guys sitting despondently at home. I also smile at what they found waiting. They honestly thought they were going to lovingly prepare Jesus' body for the proper burial. BEST SURPRISE EVER to find out HE IS ALIVE! I can imagine their feelings- dazed, confused, but so relieved and joyful.
We know the end of the story, so I can never really know how those disciples felt. I think I got a little glimpse this year of what it might have been like, in a poor backwater area of Honduras, where He is just as much alive as in the pretty fancy glorious churches of the developed world.
End note: I hosted an Easter brunch and successfully roasted my first chicken as well as a couple of side dishes. My cooking skills are improving!
I got to attend 2 different church services. One was our missionary church; we sang together and listened to a recorded Easter sermon. We also decorated a wicker cross with flowers picked from the jungle and gardens.
The other service I attended was a sunrise service at a local Honduran church. We gathered at the top of a hill overlooking the jungle, fields, and ocean around the time of sunrise. The cloudy sky obscured the actual sunbeans as it rose, but as I looked around the circle of 20 farmers, housemoms, and children, it struck me that this was probably more like the group of disciples than any other church service I've been to. Humble, poor, mostly uneducated, small timid group. This was the type of group Jesus hung out with for 3 years, poured into, tried to tell about what was coming. They didn't really get it. They eventually realized he was the son of God, the Messiah, but even that they got wrong. They expected a military ruler, someone to overthrow the oppression of the Romans. Certainly not someone who was going to be killed in the most humiliating painful way possible by the very Romans they expected him to conquer. Jesus told them the end of the story- that He would rise and conquer death, but they were confused. When you look at any evidence through your own biased lens, a lot of times you miss the truth of the statement. When he told them he would rise again, they didn't hear it, couldn't hear it, through the clamoring of their own expectations.
Sunday morning, the women go to the tomb to prepare his body. The men are clustered together at home, leaning on each other for solace. They didn't know the end of the story. This wasn't a "wait another few painful hours, then everything is going to be ok" kind of weekend. This was a "our worlds have been shattered and we don't know how to put them back together again." Everything they thought about Jesus had been proved wrong (or so they thought), and their family and friends who told them they were crazy for following this rabbi were saying "I told you so." The men probably felt crushed that the leader of their cause was now dead; the women may have felt a different kind of grief. Jesus was the person who elevated them to the status of equals in their very male-dominated society. He publicly acknowledged them, congratulated them for their faith and devotion, told others to follow their example. He was never condescending or dismissive. He just loved them as equals, and validated their existence. Now he was gone.
I love the shock and surprise and irony written into the accounts of the women encountering the risen Jesus. First of all, he appeared first to women. If you were writing a story and wanted it to be accepted as truth in the Middle East, the testimony of women was worthless. Yet the writers of the gospels tell us the story of Jesus appearing to women, and sending them to tell the guys sitting despondently at home. I also smile at what they found waiting. They honestly thought they were going to lovingly prepare Jesus' body for the proper burial. BEST SURPRISE EVER to find out HE IS ALIVE! I can imagine their feelings- dazed, confused, but so relieved and joyful.
We know the end of the story, so I can never really know how those disciples felt. I think I got a little glimpse this year of what it might have been like, in a poor backwater area of Honduras, where He is just as much alive as in the pretty fancy glorious churches of the developed world.
End note: I hosted an Easter brunch and successfully roasted my first chicken as well as a couple of side dishes. My cooking skills are improving!
