3rd Sunday of Easter (C)
Readings: Acts 10:34, 37-43; Psalm 117 (118):1-2, 16-17, 22-23; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-9
Picture: By Lan Gao on Unsplash
My dear friends, how do we feel when we see the candles on a birthday cake? Even if we may wish there weren’t so many, it’s still usually a joyous occasion. A celebration of the gift of life. But aren’t there at least two possible moments when we may also feel helpless before those candles? First, when we’re trying to light them, but a strong breeze keeps blowing them out. We know how frustrating that can be. Second, we may also feel helpless not just when we’re unable to light the candles, but when, no matter how hard we try, we just can’t seem to blow them out. Why? Because someone has played a prank on us, and replaced the regular candles with trick candles. The kind that have been specially treated, so that they keep reigniting on their own, after they’ve been extinguished… The failure to keep candles alight, and the inability to blow them out. Don’t we find something like these two different types of helplessness in our scriptures today?
We believe that Jesus came to bring the Light of God’s Truth and Love and Mercy into the darkness of our world. And when his enemies succeed in getting him condemned as a criminal, and crucified on a cross, it surely seems like his Light has been permanently extinguished. Not only does he lose his life, his reputation and legacy seem irreparably tarnished. Who will accept his message now? Which may explain why there’s an unmistakeable atmosphere of helplessness and frustration in the gospel’s description of Peter’s nocturnal fishing expedition. They went out and got into the boat but caught nothing that night. Try as they might, the apostles can’t seem to keep the candle of faith alight. The winds of adversity always seem to have the upper hand. And this is despite the Risen Jesus having already appeared to them twice before. Perhaps Peter is hampered not just by the darkness of the night, or the shyness of the fish, but also by the burden of his guilt. His sense of having let Jesus down.
Yet by the time we get to the events of the first reading, a remarkable shift has taken place. Despite being thrown in jail, interrogated and intimidated, cruelly beaten and even very nearly losing their lives, Peter and the other apostles still refuse to back down. They refuse either to stop preaching in Jesus’ name, or to sweep the guilt of the Lord’s enemies under the carpet. Obedience to God comes before obedience to men, they insist. Rather than being cowed or discouraged by the persecution, they actually feel glad to have had the honour of suffering humiliation for the sake of the name. Bravely and happily, they defy the instructions of an earthly court, because they’re conscious of serving another, far higher, seat of judgment. The heavenly throne described in the second reading. Before which myriads of angels, and all the living things in creation, bow down in worship and adoration. Even while still walking on this earth, the apostles are already living according to how things will be in heaven.
And isn’t this a radical turning of the tables? Where once it was the apostles who were frustrated by their own inability to keep the candle of faith alight, now it’s the turn of the Lord’s enemies to feel helpless at their own failure to blow it out. It’s as though someone has seen fit to replace very ordinary birthday candles with specially treated trick candles. And isn’t this the effect of the great Mystery we celebrate in this joyous season? Isn’t this due to the power of the Lord’s Dying and Rising? Isn’t this the hope that Easter brings? A power and a hope that we Christians need to reclaim especially today, when it often seems as though our world is engulfed in an ever deepening darkness that so many of us feel helpless to do anything about.
Which is why it’s helpful to consider carefully how the Crucified and Risen Christ communicates this power and hope to his friends. At a time when they’re likely to be feeling lost and exhausted, discouraged and depressed, the Lord appears. Bringing the light of dawn. Offering guidance and sustenance. Food for their bodies, and rest for their souls. Jesus also engages Peter in a conversation sensitively designed to break the chains of guilt, and to strengthen Peter for the challenges that lie ahead. Instead of sweeping troubling memories and feelings under the carpet, the Lord gently draws them to the surface. Simon son of John, do you love me more than these others do?… Feed my lambs… (W)hen you grow old… somebody… will put a belt round you and take you where you would rather not go… Follow me…
Like any birthday celebration, Easter is meant to be a joyous time. But the joy comes not from closing our eyes to our own weakness, but by acknowledging it before the Lord, and allowing him to transform it into new strength. Isn’t this what that lighted Paschal Candle also signifies? Sisters and brothers, how might we better allow the Lord to turn the tables of our helplessness this Easter?
No comments:
Post a Comment