Here I am in easier times with Jane Davison, John’s mom. We would be so grateful for your prayers for her and all of the staff and patrons in her memory care facility, Arden Courts.
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I am grateful in such challenging times to be celebrating the Easter season. It coincides with the beauties of spring and reminds us that we will see resurrection and renewal, even in dark times. If we are living in the full truth of this pandemic, it is impossible to avoid the sad realities of fear, conflict, illness, and death. I find myself thinking back to Lent, convinced that reflecting on Jesus’ suffering and death could provide some insight. It is too much to hope that we will respond with as much grace as he did, but surely we can learn something from His example. How do we respond to this challenge?
When we celebrate the passion year after year, it can feel like a tradition—perhaps like the Nutcracker at Christmas or turkey for Thanksgiving. I find it easy to get lulled into thinking that his fate was pre-destined. Almost a series of unfortunate circumstances that conveniently allowed scripture to be fulfilled and our salvation to be assured. Miscarriages of justice were surely common then, as we know they continue to be all too common now. But in my humble opinion, that view misses the most important point.
Christ may not have wanted or deserved to be there in front of Pontius Pilate, but he was very intentional about each action he took that landed him on trial. He never backed down from speaking truth to power. He never hesitated to call out hypocrisy among the most pious of leaders. He never shunned those who were on the outside of society, whether by an accident of birth, an illness, or their own actions. He was willing to be a mirror that when held up to authority-both Roman and Jewish, reflected oppression and inequality. These actions made him very dangerous. His intentions were pure and holy, but he was not “innocent” of making those in power very uncomfortable.
The seasons of Lent and Easter remind us that death is a certainty, but not the final word. Right now, we are all grappling with mixed messages about the value of human life, how to think about loss, and what duty we have to protect ourselves and others in the face of this virus. As Christians, we know that only Christ’s resurrection has the power to alter our fate. In reflecting on our common cultural approach to death, I was reminded of Dylan Thomas’ poem:
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It was apparently written for his father as he battled age and illness, and reads like a call to arms, to fight death with all our might. Yet as I read on, I found strong parallels in Thomas’ final verse to the grief we see in Christ’s death on the cross at Calvary:
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"And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
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Light is a familiar reference for Christians. The book of John reminds us that light is where everything begins, that Jesus is the light, and that we are to be the light of the world. What I see in Christ’s “fierce tears” is that he was in fact raging against the dying of the light, but NOT against his own death. Instead, he fought with his very last breath to ensure that THE LIGHT would not die with him. He fought fiercely, even from the cross, to hold on until he left his true legacy. Until he gave
comfort
to his mother and friends; until he gave
forgiveness
to those who persecuted, mocked, and killed him; until he gave
compassion
to the sinners with whom he hung; until he showed
gratitude
to those who quenched his thirst; until he demonstrated that supernatural might will not be our salvation.
Instead, like Christ, we can commit ourselves to always spreading the light until our last breath. Following the example of his final act, we can daily commend our spirits and our actions into God’s hands. Perhaps then we will find ways to practice comfort, forgiveness, compassion and gratitude in our lives. Thankfully, we can recognize those very actions in so many during this pandemic—from our healthcare and essential workers to the potbangers and mask-makers. I pray that I, that we, may all find the strength to continue to fight that good fight together as we collectively rage against the dying of THE LIGHT.
Amy Heard
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