Pastor’s Page

An Easter Message

It was on Sunday

                                                that he pulled the corn.

                                                They arrived with flowers,

                                                shuffling through the dawn

                                                as the dawn snuffed out

                                                the last candles of the night.

                                                Their faces betrayed their belief

                                                that yesterday would always be better

                                                than tomorrow,

                                                despite what he said.

                                                He would not say it again,

                                                so why bother to believe him on that score?

                                                And the flowers,

                                                they too were silent witnesses to disbelief.

                                                Like the grass,

                                                they were cut to be tried to death,

                                                cut off from the root,

                                                the bulb, the source of life.

                                                He was the flower they cherished,

                                                the flower now perished

                                                whose fate the lilies of the field,

                                                now tight in hand,

                                                would re-enact.

                                                So when they passed the crouched figure

                                                at the edge of the road,

                                                they thought little of him,

                                                scarcely seeing his form through tears.

                                                Had they looked even a little,

                                                they would have seen a man

                                                letting grain fall through his fingers,

                                                dropping to the earth

                                                to die and yet to rise again.

                                                It was on Sunday

                                                that he pulled the corn. *

How many times in our tears, in our suffering, in our disbelief do we miss the resurrection?  How many times do we not see what is truly in front of us?  How many times do we miss the miracles all around us?  Look!!  Look!!  There is life!  There is resurrection!  There is Easter!!

*From Stages on the Way:  Resources for Lent, Holy Week and Easter by the Iona Community, Wild Goose Worship Group