A recent television ad for a new movie titled, Risen, included the claim that it was faithful to the Biblical account of Jesus' resurrection. It didn't say, however, to which Biblical account it was referring. Because if someone were to read the four Gospels he or she would discover that each tells a different story. Check it out if you don't believe me.
None, of course, mention lilies, or bunnies, or eggs, or ham, or new clothes for the children. There is no encouragement for those who otherwise never attend church (except for perhaps on Christmas Eve) to get their hind ends into a pew on that special Sunday. Parades and big hats for the ladies came about much later.
What we do see, though, in all of the Gospel accounts of the story, is the most emphatic expression of the underlying truth that stitches together the entirety of the Biblical witness: God makes all things new.
For some reason, this Easter I find myself thinking about my dear departed friend from seminary days named Clark. We didn't know each other prior to our meeting up in Indianapolis. In fact, we were different in numerous ways. He was from the West Coast, I was from the East Coast. He was somewhat conservative, probably willing to vote for Republicans. Me...well... I was athletic and aware of goings-on in professional sports, Clark had no interest. I could go on, but the point is, we arrived in Indiana at the same place and time, and before long became as close as brothers.
One year he was awarded the prestigious Annual Alumni Fund Scholarship, the big prize at Honors Day at the seminary, and I got it the next year. We weren't in many classes together, but often would go to an underground archive room at the library to study and write papers. Neither of us bothered with note cards or outlines or any other techniques recommended for composing term papers. We just carried our typewriters (yes, it was that long ago) and some paper to the archive room and banged them out.
After graduating from seminary, Clark settled right there in Indiana, I headed on down the highway. But, he and I were in each other's weddings, we used to make cassette (and later, video) tapes to send to each other. On occasion, although rarely, we visited. And of course, there were telephone calls, but they, too, were rare.
One time, though, Clark called me from the hospital in Fort Wayne where he was a patient. I was in Florida. He never made a direct appeal, but something about his demeanor set off frightening alarms in my head. Clark suffered from diabetes since he was a teenager, and over the years after seminary had lost both legs below the knee. He had some vision difficulties, kidney trouble, and probably other health problems I never heard about. Without fail, Clark remained upbeat, and even made light of it at times. On this occasion, though, I knew something was dreadfully wrong, even though he never said so.
Before long, I was on a plane to Indiana, arriving after he was discharged from the hospital. (Of course, someone from my church floated a rumor that the real reason for my trip was to apply for another job. As usual, she was wrong. Although, I must say, it was not a bad idea..)
I spent a couple of days with Clark, appalled at what his life had become (I will spare the details here), but glad to reconnect face-to-face. Clark was his usual carefree self, but I knew he was glad I correctly interpreted his signals and made the trip to see him one last time.
A few months later I received word from one of Clark's sons that he was dead from a heart attack while undergoing kidney dialysis. He just drifted off as he was receiving his regular treatment. Another trip to Indiana was required.
I'm not sure why this has all come back to me now, at Easter. May 9 will mark seven years since Clark's passing. But I do know that even as I recall those unhappy days seven years ago, framing it all in the context of the Easter observance gives a sense of hope. Clark truly was a person of faith, and I am sure that contributed to his attitude in the face of his suffering.
The hope, witness and promise of scripture that God makes all things new is the message that seeks to emerge in the midst of all our distracting traditions and celebrations. It's impossible to understand the depth of God (another topic for many other days!), but as I see it, Easter gives us the opportunity to focus upon and proclaim the word that nothing inhibits God's determination that life prevails over death, that suffering and pain do come to an end, and as both the prophet Isaiah and the Book of Revelation tell us, "every tear shall be wiped from their eyes. Mourning and crying shall be no more."
When? Where? How? God's ways are not our ways, God's thoughts are not our thoughts. But the promise is consistent and sure. All things are made new. By God. That includes Clark's life, and mine, and yours.
Put that in your Easter basket!
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