OldSoul.blog

A post-Easter reflection

For the first time in many, many years I didn’t ‘go to church’ this Easter. No Holy Week reflective gatherings, no Maundy Thursday re-enactment of the Last Supper, no Good Friday service, no Dawn service, no Easter Day gathering – all of which have previously been a regular part of my Easter journey as a church leader. Did I miss it? Well, yes – Easter didn’t seem quite the same without the opportunity to gather with others to celebrate this most significant season of the Christian calendar. And, no – it was a relief not to have to grapple with the confused and convoluted theology that Easter represents: the uncomfortable notion of Jesus’ sacrificial death (whether to appease a ‘just’ God or to atone for the sins of humanity); the bizarre concept of Jesus ‘descending into Hell’ for whatever purpose is posited by that teaching (fortunately not a prominent element my particular faith tradition); and the perplexing and problematic proclamation of the resurrection: physical or spiritual? literal or metaphorical? It was pleasing not to have to pontificate on those themes this year.

I did, however, do some reflecting as I tried to make sense of this Easter season that continues to hold a highly significant place in my spiritual and faith journey. What does the death and resurrection of Jesus mean for me in this time and place?

Before answering that question, it may be helpful to elucidate ‘time and place’ a little. As I write, the world is in turmoil. Israel is at war with Hamas and, possibly, with Iran; the Russia/Ukraine conflict seems interminable; the US election cycle is throwing up the crazy possibility of a convicted felon being elected as President; there are more ‘displaced persons’ in the world than at any other time in history; and in Australia, there are more extremely wealthy people than ever before and yet more people living in poverty than since the 1930s. What does the death and resurrection of Jesus mean in such a context?

In the midst of my non-church-attending Easter I read an article by Diana Butler Bass entitled Unmasking Caesar and, as is often the case with her writing, it helped me get a handle on my tangled threads of thought. Discussing the events of the first Easter, Bass wrote: … … the actions about to unfold would unmask the powers of oppression, the archons of this world. His death would reveal their unholy collusion. And this unmasking would disarm them. They bring judgment on themselves. When we see the powers for what they are, everything is transformed. The agents of this world are found to be deformed and wanting; those who confront and resist that power seed a world conformed with the love of God and neighbor. 

And in that light I can make sense of Easter. I can understand Jesus’ death not as an atoning sacrifice to a demanding God, or as a lightning rod to galvanise a revolutionary army that might overthrow the Roman occupation forces or the dysfunctional religious system, but, rather, as an act of self-sacrificial passive resistance that ‘unmasks the powers of oppression’ – that reveals those forces for what they are, in their corrupt collusion and complicity, and in their callous disregard for truth, integrity, compassion and love. And the ‘resurrection’ that follows is the good news that this unmasking, unexpectedly and miraculously, has rendered them powerless. The emperor’s clothes have been stripped away! 

On that basis, Easter becomes an essential reminder that real power, the ability to affect real change, resides not in the temporal powers that appear to rule this world – be they political, military or religious – but in the gentle yet determined conviction to follow the way of Jesus and to live out the faith of Jesus through the unwavering practice of compassion, kindness, hospitality, generosity and love. It may seem simplistic, but against these qualities the temporal ‘rulers’ of this world have no power, they are unmasked.

Which means that, for me, the Easter mission becomes not to promote understanding of the complexities of atonement theology, or to argue for belief in a miraculous and somewhat implausible resurrection, but rather to invite people to consider how a life of compassionate, gracious, inclusive loving might just change the world – deeply and implicitly. Now there’s a message for our time! 

David Brooker

April 2024