Diocesan News
Bishop of Cashel's Easter Message
2009 Easter Message
Rt Revd Michael Burrows, Bishop of Cashel and Ossory
I always remember during my student years and indeed during my years as a university chaplain as well how exciting it was to stay up all night for the College Ball. One memory I always treasure is the relatively sudden appearance of the light of morning as people still danced out in the open air. All of a sudden it was no longer dark, and the party clothes of the night looked peculiar in the first rays of the morning sun.
The story of Easter is a similar story of the return of the light, of the mists of early morning, of people so focused on the things of the night that they scarcely noticed the light and life that were enveloping them. One of Jesus’ closest friends was unable to recognise him; it was almost as if frightened people clung to the shadows because they were afraid rather than hopeful about what the new day might bring.
All through the Gospels there is a very thin line between fear and hope as people grapple with the hazy morning light that brings with it the return of the Lord. People doubt and are afraid, yet they are also the witnesses of something that will bring more hope to humanity than any other moment in history. But in the mists of the dawn they hardly know what is the right emotion to experience.
This Easter our nation lives on a very thin line between hope and fear; they are almost two sides of the same coin. We want to rejoice because the Easter message matters as much as it ever did and we want to keep current problems in perspective. Yet there is a fear too that things are not going to come right for quite some time, that too much celebration is unjustified, that we should all be seen to live in a kind of prison of infectious gloom.
There is indeed much to be solemn about this Easter, as those who have recently lost jobs or savings will readily tell us. But as Easter morning dawns, we need to return imaginatively to the garden where Jesus laid hold anew on life. And we need to realise that we are actually most closely allied to those who first witnessed the resurrection when we are not full of glib certainty and unsubtle glee, but rather when we are grappling for hope in a very hazy murky atmosphere. Seeing the Risen Jesus is not the reward of the exuberant; rather it is the disarming experience of the desolate.
The most authentic Easter worship of all for me takes place at dawn, when in the limited early light one can go in heart and mind to the tomb. But in the mixed emotions of it all I also think of those College days, when the dancers danced on as night gently yet magically became morning. For centuries in spirituality the life, death and resurrection of Jesus have themselves been compared to a dance which in fact cannot be allowed to end in the darkest hours of night. The students dancing into the dawn, defying in their joy the worst the contracting economy can throw at them, express the hope, light and energy of Easter better than any words. Indeed they mirror the undying life of the one so often called the Lord of the Dance himself.
Dance then, wherever you may be,
I am the Lord of the Dance said he –
And I’ll lead you all wherever you may be
And I’ll lead you all in the Dance, said he!
Despite everything … Happy Easter, wherever you may be.
ENDS