I spent several hours today praying over John's account of the death of Jesus, listening to Victoria's Tenebrae, and reflecting on many works of art of the Crucifixion. Some very heartfelt insights into the meaning of Good Friday.
Then I went down to just sit by the Lake in our remarkably 83 degree day. As I watched the real water in front of me, I thought that 2,000 years ago Jesus really did hang on a cross and die for me, for all of us. Then I found myself thinking that at its very best the Crucifixion is still only a memory, made present in Gospel and Eucharist, but a memory nonetheless. Jesus hanging on the cross is not available to me right here and now.
But the Risen Jesus is. I thought of Jesus present in the Lake and in all the beauty of this hot day. I realized that the Risen Jesus was living in me at that moment. That's why Luke's account calls him "The Living One." That's why the Resurrection is the foundation of my Christian faith. That's why the Risen Jesus is the source of our present day community. The Risen Jesus is not some wonderful memory from long ago. He is alive still, loving us as truly as he loved his first disciples.
The picture above is a memory from April 9, 2008, but it made me think of another garden on an early Easter morning with an empty tomb somewhere. (Our daffodils in these mountains are not blooming yet.)
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