Sunday, 8 April 2012

Very Early in the Morning

And so in the cold dark pre-dawn of that first day, the rumour spreads.

"He isn't there! He has risen!"

Too unlikely to be wish-fulfilment. Too long-lasting to be hallucination.

Peter wonders. John believes. Mary has, it seems, been blessed with hope beyond evidence.

Ignoring the confusion of their friends, Cleophas and his mate are the first to quit Jerusalem. They're at a little place called Emmaus when they decide, let's go back. They go rushing back to tell everyone - "you'll never guess whom we've seen."

"No, we will. We will guess. We know exactly whom you've seen. We've seen him ourselves."
All the spite and all the guards and all the might of Rome, all the jealousy and fear of religious leaders couldn't keep the Nazarene in the grave.

And all the floggings, all the warnings, all the executions, all the power of all the Caesars couldn't stop the message from spreading from Britain to India in the lifespan of that useless Roman Empire - which didn't even have the power to keep one wandering Jewish teacher dead.

And down through the ages, and through the ages to come, the powers and authorities still want him dead. Because a living Christ is still a challenge to their rule in this world, and the light shining from the next. They still hate him, and still want him out the way. And he'll still go on being stubbornly alive, no matter what they do. Because he is risen indeed.

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