EASTER 2007
Peter Firth, a retired Bishop on the staff of our parish, reflects on this special season
It is difficult to think of something new to say about Easter. But why should we try to think something new about an event which only happened once? Why not just enjoy the wonder of that resurrection morning? Why not simply celebrate the continuing release of new life, new energy for living, a fresh start at any age, forgiveness and the victory of love over death?
Why indeed? But what we’ve heard a thousand times needs retelling in a fresh way – simply because we’ve heard it a thousand times. And that is difficult. The following image made sense when it was offered to me many years ago. I still find it helpful.
A long time ago
I watched a puppet theatre
In a public street.
Some ancient tragedy became real
To children and old men.
But what if, at the climax of the play,
One puppet soldier,
About to deal the blow of death,
Looked up
And saw a tear
In the paper sky,
And knew for the first time that
There was another world beyond?
Many things interfere in my life.
I am bound by law and duty,
Money and desire.
I am bound by the opinions of others
And the habits of a lifetime.
I am dangled like a puppet
By forces over which I have no control.
Yet in the thought of resurrection light
I celebrate the tear
In the paper sky
Which ranges over life.
Lord,
When the pressures are on
And the stage of my life seems crowded,
And I am caught up
In scenes from plays I didn’t write –
Let me see the tear in the heavens.
This life is not a dream
But there is more to it
Than the little stage on which we find ourselves.
All around us
Are hints of that other life –
Past happiness which I treasure,
Youth which still burns its flame within me,
Hopes of better things
Despite the evidence of many days
Kindnesses I haven’t merited
And friends who forgive.
May Christ in His Easter glory
Remind me of the life from which I came,
And to which I shall return
When the play is over.
The Anglican priest Studdart Kennedy was a chaplain during the first World War. He wrote much poetry, some of it about the horrors he encountered in the front line alongside his men. In one poem, called ‘Faith’, he tells of some of these horrors, but then approaches the end of the poem with the words
These clouds are lies.
They cannot last. The blue sky is the Truth.
For God is love. Such is my faith, and such
My reasons for it, and I find them strong
Enough. And you? You want to argue? Well,
I can’t. It is a choice. I choose the Christ.
That choosing is the making of a tear in the paper sky, of which Christ’s resurrection speaks. A Happy Easter to you all.
Peter Firth