Easter Message from Rev. Jonathan

Dear Friends in Christ,

As we approach Passiontide and journey through Holy Week as pilgrims towards the cross, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on sacrifice and new life. This weekend, I took a walk along Ambleside and wondered for a moment about the blossoms, glorious and new, shining in the sunlight, pale pink against the blue sky. And I must confess, I was both happy but also a little sad too. I began to think of the journey these trees have been on: last year's blossoms turned into leaves, those leaves bathed in sunlight for a time and then in the fall, they shriveled and passed away. The winter winds and rain battered the bare trees, and it seemed as if spring would never come. And then, it did.

It made me wonder, does losing your leaves and growing new blossoms hurt? Come to think of it, few things in life come easily; all things take hard work, physical and emotional labour and, above all, time. I wonder how Christ felt in the events leading up to Easter, arriving triumphant to Jerusalem and being led away in chains. I wonder if the last few months of Christ’s life felt like an eternity as he waited with bated breath, knowing what was to come - wondering if it ever would come, and then, it did.

As we look around us at some of the pain and suffering both in our community and the world around us, much as I feel deep sadness and compassion, I also look to hope. I think the new Archbishop of Canterbury, The Most Reverend Sarah Mullally, said it best when she said, "May we have the audacity to believe in the promises of God." And though I can get down about the way of the world sometimes, I do have the audacity to believe in the goodness of people and the relentless and endlessly good ways of God.

I wonder in what small ways that we might have the audacity to hope, in ways that transform another person's world. That is to say not toxic positivity, but earnest ways of easing the waiting, sharing the load. What would we have done for Christ if we had known also what was coming for him, how would we turn to one another and comfort, how would we have shared the load to ease whatever suffering was to come? I like to think I would be making Mother Mary many cups of tea and helping sweep Jesus' carpentry workshop.

So as we look to the here and now, and see the new life around us, we are reminded of the death that has passed: the fallen plants that enrich the soil, and make way for what is to come, whose predecessors grew strong so that new life could flourish. In this, we see mirrored our own experience, and I wonder in what ways we could be a balm to those in strife and struggle.

How might a kind word, invitation or small offering help one another - in our church, our community and our world? Maybe it is making tea and sweeping, or maybe it's something even greater.

As we waited with bated breath, looking to the cross on Good Friday we knew - but perhaps not truly believed - that good can still come after so much bad has happened. In this waiting, we must look to find commonality, to find empathy and compassion, offering what we can to those around us.

I hope you had a chance to join us this week at St. Christopher’s to meditate on the Triduum, to focus in on the Cross in the juxtaposition of death and life, and to fix our gaze - not simply looking inward, but outward - allowing God to guide our hearts and minds. May we not look away from the suffering of our neighbour, but instead ask ourselves: in what ways we can lend an ear, or offer our gifts or our hearts to those in need; so that, when spring arrives for them, they too may have the audacity to believe that God is good and that God’s promise never fails.

Yours in Christ,
Rev. Jonathan Pinkney