In their Easter sermons Pope Francis and the Archbishop of Canterbury drew attention to the persecution of Christians in the Middle East and elsewhere. The pope referred to those who were murdered as “our martyrs today, more numerous than in the early centuries”.
In his book God's Demand and Man's Response, Alec Vidler writes: "It is the church of the saints and martyrs and prophets, who have been the lights of the world in their several generations that has the demand upon your allegiance – not the church which has been corrupted by wealth and worldly power."
It is sobering in this Easter season to reflect on the courage of those small communities of Christians and those of other faiths who suffer for their beliefs. They show up the shallowness of much that passes for Christian discipleship in countries such as ours where apathy seems to rule and too much is taken for granted.
Finding such courage is not easy as we are reminded in tomorrow’s readings, where St Luke writes about the followers of Jesus following the resurrection. In the Gospel, Peter and the others are in a state of panic and Jesus challenges them.
“Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see.”
The Book of Acts, also attributed to St Luke, sees Peter in a different light. Gone are the doubt and the fear. Peter says: “And by faith in his name, his name itself has made this man strong, whom you see and know; and the faith that is through Jesus has given him this perfect health in the presence of all of you.” Peter’s faith is no longer a private matter but something to be shared with confidence.
Richie Benaud who died last week was one of the world’s best-known and best-loved sports commentators and a hugely successful cricketer. The Australian government’s offer of a state funeral is an indication of the respect people have for him. (The Benaud surname denotes his French Huguenot ancestry.)
Several comments on his death suggested in an affectionate way that in the future he “would be looking down” on us. It’s a phrase we often hear these days when people talk about those who have died. But what does it mean? We know from painful experience that when someone dies they “depart”, they leave us certainly in a physical sense. They are beyond our touch, our embrace, our aid, and that is hard to cope with. It’s called bereavement. All we can do is remember them with gratitude and love and honour them in any way we can.
We see these characteristics in those most closely associated with the death of Jesus. Joseph of Arimathea, who provided the tomb, and Nicodemus – both secret admirers of Jesus – simply wanted to bury him with respect. What they intended to be the final resting place of one Jesus of Nazareth turned out to be something very different. Grief-stricken Mary who went to that “resting place” was just doing what women often did in the past: caring for the body of a loved one who had just died.
They stand with all of us in the silence of our griefs bound by our inability to change anything. That’s our human dilemma but when we take into account our Christian faith everything changes and we realise that it’s not really about anyone “looking down on us”; it’s about God’s promise, spelt out in the events of Holy Week and Easter, to look after us. This was the firm hope backed up by experience that turned Peter’s fear into courage.
For Hans Küng in On Being a Christian, God is to be trusted: "He is a God who does not make empty promises for the hereafter nor trivialise the present darkness, futility and meaninglessness, but who himself in the midst of darkness, futility and meaninglessness invites us to the venture of hope."