In the light of Easter

I am writing this at the start of Holy Week and just a few days after the funeral service of a friend and parishioner, Terry Pollard. If you were at Terry’s funeral, you will know that it was a remarkable occasion. At the age of 51, knowing that his illness was terminal, Terry set about ‘putting his affairs in order’, including preparing his own funeral service. He chose the hymns and readings and wrote his own ‘reflections’ to be read at the service. He saw this as a unique opportunity to address his family and friends with thoughtful and loving words.

Of course, there is a downside to this way of doing things: if you had been asked to speak at a friend's funeral, you would, no doubt, dwell on their strengths and detail their accomplishments. If, however, you were asked to speak about yourself, you might well do what Terry did. Although he acknowledged that he might have some strengths, he seemed more conscious of his weaknesses. As I said at the time, many of his family and friends might have liked the right to reply! We would have had many very positive things to say about him!

What I found particularly interesting - and tried to say in my sermon - was the passage of scripture that Terry had chosen to be read. It was from Hebrews chapter 2, where the writer talks about Jesus as having been made “a little lower than the angels ” (v9) - that is, like us. This Jesus shares our life and our death with us. He is made perfect by his sufferings (v10 - and you thought the Son of God was already perfect!). Like us, he partakes of flesh and blood, shares our nature and is ‘one of us’. Amazingly, he is not ashamed to call us his brothers and sisters! (v11)

What the writer to the Hebrews says is that the problem we face comes in the shape of ‘flesh and blood’ - in other words, our human frailty, weakness and brokenness. So, in what shape do we find the solution? Also in flesh and blood - the flesh and blood of Jesus. In his very humanity, Jesus shares our sorrows and defeats our enemy, through his death on the cross. His body is broken and his blood is shed for us.

I have no idea what made Terry choose this passage, but it seems to me to offer the only hope that any of us has: that God’s love and strength are made known to us in the flesh and blood of Jesus, who invites us to share his life, the life that goes beyond this world’s brokenness.

As I say, I am writing this at the start of Holy Week: you may be reading it after Easter. Thankfully, we approach Holy Week in the light of Easter. We come to Good Friday in the knowledge that Sunday is around the corner.

We may live our lives in the shadow of the cross: we are also invited to do so in the light of Easter.

Alan Jewell