Yesterday I was struck with fresh force by how strange and superbly appropriate the name ‘Good Friday’ is. Why not Bloody Friday? or Black Friday? The Lord of the Universe was murdered, hands that ‘flung stars into space’ pierced. Absurd Friday. Yes, until you catch a glimpse of the heart of the gospel, the Father’s heart.
But it does leave ‘Easter Sunday’ sounding a little esoteric bringing up the rear, an awkward tag along. Perhaps ‘Better Sunday’ is the go. But then, why is it better? The mysterious Easter has become nebulous, an umbrella celebration for renewal and rebirth. But Better Sunday heralds a particular renewal, a unique rebirth. It doesn’t simply repackage the age-old celebration of the cycle of seasons, and the revolution of years. As beautiful as they are in their own way, each brings an equal measure of loss in its motions. Better Sunday made a quantum jump. A lasting change. Because of it, we have down payment on life of an entirely different quality: eternal, rich, unshadowed, real and already working renewal, yet simultaneously looking forward to consummation.
But for now we sit in tension, scratching our heads at how it ever came to pass that He who invented Light lies cold and bloodied in darkness.