Easter Saturday

My early morning routine hasn’t varied a great deal for decades. It is far from remarkable but serves to get body, soul, and spirit unclogged from the inactivity of the night.

It is as follows: wake up with or without alarm, bathroom, exercises, kettle on, Radio 4, tea bag in cup, make cup of tea, pour cereal into bowl, add milk to tea and cereal, and retire to my study, write yesterday’s events and reflections in a journal, open bible and read a chapter, pray, finish breakfast, and attack whatever is top of the TTD list.

And every other day, an early morning run is inserted between exercises and kettle on.

Today it all went off-piste.

I woke up at 4 but thought it was 5. Five o’clock would have been ideal. The intention was to sneak in a 10K and pick up the rest of the routine before getting into the day, getting the house ready for an invasion of daughters and grandchildren. Poked head outside to find it was ridiculously dark, cold, and wet. Realised it was 4 not 5. Decided to postpone run by an hour. Listening to a podcast, I lay down on the settee…and woke up at 7am, too late for the run.

Grumpily, I picked up rest of the routine.

And read Isaiah 61.

Jesus quoted Isaiah 61 at the start of his ministry, having returned from the wilderness temptations and encounter with the devil in the power of the Holy Spirit.

‘The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me’, He quoted to his home town synagogue congregation in Nazareth, ‘because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent Me to heal the broken-hearted. To proclaim liberty to the captives, the recovery of sight to the blind, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound.’

It is a prelude to and an explanation of the remarkable miracles of healing and deliverance that accompanied Jesus’ ministry, often to the poorest in Israel’s society.

What struck me today, Easter Saturday, was the contrast between the heady days of large crowds and astounding miracles, and the solitary body of Jesus lying in the grave, alone, the crowds having departed, and the disciples abandoning him through fear of the Romans.

We remember Easter Friday, Christ’s arrest, interrogation the night before, the crucifixion, and burial and we celebrate Easter Day, Sunday, to mark the resurrection, the stone rolled away, the appearance of Jesus to Mary Magdalene, the other women, and then Peter and John and the disciples, the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, and doubting Thomas. Death defeated, Jesus stands amongst them and says ‘Peace’ and eats fish. He is not a ghost, the disciples fearing their own insanity are not imagining the resurrection; he eats fish and struggles with the bones.

But Easter Saturday?

This morning, when I thought about Easter Saturday, my initial thought was of darkness. The sealed tomb, of course, would have been dark, and if not stone cold, then far from warm. A few years ago, I stooped into the tomb in Jerusalem that fits the description and location of Jesus’ burial site. It was a blisteringly hot day, but cool in the tomb.

Dark, and still. The suffering of the cross, at last, was over. It seems there is nothing to say. An inert, deafening silence characterises Easter Saturday.

The disciples, maybe 120 men and women, are in shock, hiding in various locations in Jerusalem, unsure about what to do. It’s the Sabbath, of course, so inactivity deepens as the hours pass. Waves of grief, confusion, and fear, percolate through the minds and bodies of those whose hope had been shattered. Only days before, Jesus had ridden into Jerusalem with the crowds singing ‘Hosannah! The king of Israel’.

He is not a ghost, the disciples fearing their own insanity are not imagining the resurrection; he eats fish and struggles with the bones

As I sat here, with my cup of tea and cereal, reading Isaiah 61 and musing on the contrast between the crowds and a single body alone in a grave, a clue emerged in the final verses of the chapter like a doorway into the divine wisdom. A glimpse of light in the grim reality of the crucifixion and death of an innocent Man.

Like an overstuffed suitcase, Isaiah 61 is crammed with good news. The poor, the broken-hearted, the blind, the trapped…all are blessed individually and the whole nation of Israel is being repaired…imagine that…’they shall repair the ruined cities’ v4. And it seemed as if everything was on track for national renewal, but just at the last moment, the anticipated Isaiah fulfilment seemed to fall apart and go into reverse. One moment Jesus is riding into Jerusalem, the crowds proclaiming Him as the King of Israel - the clash between Jesus and the authorities had long been brewing - but the authorities suddenly get the upper hand, and the dream was dismantled and crushed.

But did they?

The clue is in the final verse:

‘For, as the earth brings forth its bud. As the garden causes the things sown in it to spring forth, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations’

So, the question is ‘how does a garden cause the things sown to spring forth?’ And the answer is simple. It is in the word ‘sown’. A seed falls into the ground.

Now Jesus’ parable makes sense:

‘The hour has come that the Son of Man should be glorified. Truly I say to you, unless a grain of wheat, a seed, falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much fruit’ John 12 v 23,24

The route to the glory, to the fruitfulness, to the national repair, was not to be Jesus the King of Israel triumphing over Herod, and then Rome, but as a seed, to die…the divine secret revealed all around us in every garden, orchard, vineyard, allotment, veg patch, flowerpot, if we have eyes to see.

It’s a different way to run a kingdom

Easter Saturday. Jesus, dead and buried, not only to be raised as one individual, but just as one apple pip can germinate to create a whole tree, a tree that produces many thousands of apples containing similar pips, or seeds, every year, so Jesus’s death would lead to many thousands, millions in fact, of similar seeds…the life of each believer.

This is true Christianity. This is the Easter hope. Not just that ‘death is not the end’. Not just that the resurrection of Christ is a historical fact, or that Jesus ate fish, but that Jesus is being reproduced in us if we have faith to believe what He has done for us and we abandon our futile attempts to be good…or evil.

To finish.

It’s been a while since I sowed any seeds. The next time I do, I will remember Easter Saturday, and how the whole world is being populated by fruit from one seed. It’s a different way to run a kingdom.