Dead Man Walking

I wonder what it is about Easter that changed Peter? He goes from being too terrified to leave a room he’s been holed up in for three days, to being able to declare before thousands that he is one of Jesus’ disciples, aware that such a declaration could bring instant death.

If I had heard that the South African authorities had executed some criminal for treason and then three days later he rose to life again, I would have dismissed such a story as the kind of rubbish you read in “The Voice” or “You” magazine.

If I happened to be friends with the dead-man-still-walking and he appeared in my room one night and said “Peace, brother,” I’d run for my life, or have myself checked into Falkenberg Psychiatric Maximum Security.

Peter, however, worships Jesus, or more precisely, Jesus’ ghost… Not the reaction of a sane man.

I don’t believe that the Resurrection appearance of Jesus changed Peter. Something else must have changed him from coward to Rock.

The only thing I can think of is that the story of the women must have changed him. Not actually the story itself, but because of who was telling him - and everyone else: women - forbidden to speak in public - were spreading the story, in the face of real personal danger – danger for speaking, let alone danger for representing a political traitor.

Suddenly, Peter has a dawning realization that Jesus isn’t just another itinerant prophet like Isaiah, or even the Messiah, whom he’d pinned his hopes on. Jesus was more than that. Peter begins to realize that when Jesus welcomed the children despite the disciples’ discomfort, he wasn’t merely displaying a particular affection, but rather communicating something fundamental about his Kingdom. Peter sees that the strange company Jesus kept wasn’t an aberration of his character, but something core to the character of Jesus’ God. Peter sees that the world has been inexorably set on a path to change, beginning with these women's freedom.

Suddenly Peter’s vista on the world opens up and he sees things very differently. Jesus is dead. And so is Peter. And he couldn’t be happier!

Jesus the itinerant prophet is dead, Jesus the messiah is dead. Peter the fearful fisherman is dead. The real Jesus belongs to a Kingdom no death can defeat and has invited Peter to be part of that Kingdom.

There is none so brave as those who know they are dead already. Peter marches out and preaches under the “Wanted: Dead or Alive!” posters. The face of Peter the fisherman on the poster resembles that of Peter the Preacher pointing to the poster, but they are different men.

Peter is dead. The Romans can kill him, the Sanhedrin can put him in jail, but it will mean nothing, Peter is dead already. The real Peter cannot die for he belongs to a dream of human freedom that no darkness can ever put out.

No wonder Jesus says to the disciples in the upper room: “Peace be with you.”

I long to know the peace of a dead man. To confront every knife and gun on the streets of Woodstock, knowing that it can only injure my body, destroy my flesh, but that I am dead already and my dream of a free world will never die.

But if I am dead already, why do I need life insurance?

...

Forgive me Lord, for I am frail and afraid. Visit me with Easter courage.

Carcass anyone?

There is a photo in the latest National Geographic of a woman buying the carcass of a Nile perch from a local fisherman. The caption reads: “Emblematic of First World exploitation of Africa’s resources, only the carcasses of Nile perch are affordable sources of protein for some Tanzanians living around Lake Victoria. Perch fillets are stripped in 35 lakeside processing plants and shipped north, mainly to Europe but also to Israel. With years of overfishing, perch stocks have fallen drastically, imperilling the livelihoods of more than 100,000 fisherman and depriving local people of food.”

Easter

Read Luke 24:1-11 

Yvette asked me recently, “Do you think I exaggerate?” 

This is one of those questions that men dread. Like, “Do I look fat in this?” Damned if you do, damned if you don’t… There really is no answer. 

I must admit that in the back of my male mind was this little voice saying, “Don’t all women exaggerate?” 

I’m in good company. Even the Gospels report the women have different stories on their return from the tomb. Luke says, “suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.” The earlier version recorded in Mark recounts that the women saw, “a young man dressed in a white robe.” Matthew says they saw an “angel of the Lord.” John says that Mary was met by “two angels in white,” and then by Jesus.  

No wonder the men found the women’s “words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” The story gets more and more fabulous! 

I love the fact that the Gospels don’t try and harmonize themselves as so many Christians have tried. Truth is an elusive thing that changes clothing every day. We meet it serendipitously when we turn a corner surprised to find it wearing the guise of the one person in the world we thought least likely to speak sense. 

I grew up in a culture that taught me to treat all information with skepticism. “I’ll believe it when I see it.” And this is a useful skill for it prevents gullibility. But it can only go so far. There is a limit to its usefulness. There are some things that can only been seen by those who believe… 

Women see a world men can only perceive with effort. So too: children and the poor. Those who wage war do not know the world that is seen by those who receive the “peace of empire”. 

Because of the peculiar world seen by those on the receiving end of other peoples’ exercise of power, there is also a peculiar hope that springs from such people, a hope perhaps born from a position of having nothing to lose… 

It’s the kind of hope that “moves mountains” – Faith. The kind of hope that believes a man can defeat death. The kind of hope that believes all people belong to each other. The kind of hope that believes we can love our enemies. The kind of hope that gets women risking their lives talking to men in public. The kind of hope that allows truth to speak for itself in the moment. 

Sarah tells of a Franciscan blessing which speaks to this hope: “May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that you really can make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God’s grace, to do what others claim cannot be done.” 

Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.

Thank You

I’ve been very quiet recently. The run up to Easter was a stressful time and generally I don’t look forward to this time of year. This year I received a great deal of love and support and was reminded of what is most important about this time: that friends carry one another’s burdens. I am thankful for all the wonderful people in my life, and am grateful for all the gifts of grace given these past few weeks. Yvette carried the heaviest burden as she had to compensate for me not being around much. Thank you Vettie. Thank you friends.