Skip to main content

Most understated resurrection ever

"Suddenly Jesus met them and said, 'Hello'."

Hello? Hello? OK, my Bible translates it as, "Greetings!" which sounds marginally more impressive, but really - you've been dead for several days and that's the best comeback line you can manage?

That's not an isolated instance, either. He looks so understated that Mary takes him to be the gardener. He walks along with a couple of travellers on the road as if he's any old stranger. He stands among his frightened friends, and the first word out of his mouth is, "Peace".

It made me think how we totally take for granted that Jesus didn't rise from the dead and say, "Right! Now you're all really going to find out who's boss!" He didn't even say, "Well, that showed me who my real friends are, didn't it?" He didn't hunt down Pilate and Caiaphas and the others who condemned him to death.

None of those. As the Lectio 365 reflection for Easter Sunday puts it, "The appearances of the resurrected Jesus tell us so much about the heart of God." Jesus didn't go for revenge, world domination, instant judgement, or any of the things you might expect of someone who had just triumphed over death.

Instead, he quietly met his friends and said, "Hello". We're not always looking for a God like that, are we? We expect him to show up in a big way, to jump on us when we get it wrong - in short, to act like we think an all-powerful being should act.

But what we get is a God who turns up beside us as if he's never been away, and says, "Here I am. Be at peace." 

And we say, "Wait. Didn't you just...?" 

"Rise from the dead? Of course. Here, have some breakfast."

Most. Understated. Resurrection. Ever.

Happy Easter!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Mr White Watson of Bakewell

Once upon a time, back in 1795 or so, lived a man who was always asking questions.  The kind of questions like, "Why is glass transparent?" or "Why do fruit trees grow better in that place than in this place?" or "What does the earth look like underneath the surface?"  This last question was one that he was particularly interested in, and he went so far as to work out what the rock layers looked like where he lived, and draw little pictures of them.  Now he was a marble sculptor by trade (as well as fossil hunter, mineral seller, and a few other things) so he thought it would be even better to make his little pictures in stone.  That way he could represent the layers using the actual rocks they were composed of.  Over the course of his lifetime he made almost 100 of these tablets, as he called them. Then he died.  And no one else was quite as interested in all those rocks and minerals as he was.  His collection was sold off, bit by bit, and the table...

Laid-back Lille and Bustling Brussels

After a night in a tiny AirBnB in Canterbury , where there were chocolates on the table and artwork on every inch of the walls, we boarded a ferry with an absolute minimum of fuss, enjoyed a smooth crossing of the channel, and were deposited in the decidedly unscenic surroundings of the port of Dunkirk two hours later. Once we got past the cranes and shipping containers, though, the countryside was flat but pleasant. We stopped at a small town called Cassel, reached by cobbled roads winding up a hill. On the summit was an old windmill and a topograph telling you the distances to various improbable places; St Omer may have been visible in the haze, but Manchester was surely over the horizon.  In Lille, we found our apartment, unpacked the luggage (one rucksack apiece), and set out to find food. Our first choice was fully booked, so we embarked on that kind of aimless wandering where everyone is hungry and no one wants to actually choose a restaurant. We reached a Lebanese place call...

Canterbury Cathedral

We were booking a trip to France, and I persuaded the family that it was madness to drive four hours to Dover and get straight on the ferry. "We should definitely stay overnight somewhere," I said. "Oh look, Canterbury is very handy - just twenty minutes from Dover." Of course, my suggestion was not influenced in the slightest by the fact that Canterbury contains England's most famous cathedral. On the way down, we stretched our legs on Dunstable Downs, an area of chalk grassland owned by the National Trust. I was pleased to spot a scarlet pimpernel for my 100 Plants Challenge . We also enjoyed watching gliders ascending and descending. We turned onto the M25 and made our way through busy traffic to the Dartford Crossing. This is one of those mythical points on the UK road network, like Scotch Corner and Watford Gap: the name familiar from traffic reports on the radio; the reality - for someone who grew up west of London - a hazy blur of imagination. It turns ou...