THE EASTER EARTHQUAKE

“There was a violent earthquake, for the angel of the Lord came down from heaven, and going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow.” (Matthew 28:2,3)

Almost every week there are reports of violent earthquakes somewhere in the world. People are killed and injured and many are made homeless. Have you ever experienced an earthquake? I have. I grew up on the west coast of the South Island of New Zealand. Fault lines encircle the Pacific rim which make it an area subject to earthquakes. Many of the islands in the south Pacific were formed by volcanic action. An earthquake is caused by two parts of the earth’s surface moving suddenly in relation to each other along the fault line. Shock waves radiate outward from the epicenter. A major earthquake is usually preceded by small quakes and followed by several aftershocks. At school we practiced earthquake drill. We were told not to run out of the building where we might get hit by bricks from chimneys falling on us. Instead, we were to get under our desks or under an entrance where we would be protected. The buildings were built to sustain the shocks from earthquakes, and would sway rather than shatter. Our kitchen chimney was twelve feet tall. It looked somewhat crazy since it had survived several earthquakes and was braced by a corset of iron rods. I can remember being in the kitchen when an earthquake began. Our cook was a rather stout woman who was getting a roast out of the oven when the ground started to shake. She began to swear at me thinking that I was playing a joke on her and pushing her into the oven. Once, a quake happened when I was in a supermarket. The displays of cans, bottles and other items crashed over and rolled backwards and forwards on the floor. Ceiling lights would sway, and there was a rumble in the ground. The epicenter would often be off the coast in the Tasman Sea. You could drive up the hills around the town and view the roiling of the water. Debris and fish from the depths would be cast up on the shore. If there was a volcanic discharge the water could even become warm.

After an earthquake there is a calm, and then aftershocks over several days before it subsides. There is no way to avoid an earthquake except by getting off the earth. I used to fantasize as a child that if I jumped up in the air, I would escape it. But I would always have to come down to earth again.

On the day of the resurrection of Jesus there was a violent earthquake, caused by two parts of reality moving suddenly in relation to one another along the fault line of the tomb. Time and eternity intersected. Heaven and earth moved. The power of God collided with the power of death. Nothing in the universe was the same again. The geology of salvation changed. It is easy to believe in an earthquake. If you have experienced an earthquake you know it happened. An earthquake can be recorded and reported. But what about an angel coming down from heaven, going to the tomb and rolling back the stone? Can you record and report an appearance like lightning, and clothes white as snow? The disciples felt they could and did. They were never the same again. When you have experienced an encounter with the risen Christ, you will never be the same again. Earthquakes cause the ground to move under your feet. When you encounter the Spirit of resurrection to eternal life, the ground moves under you, the world looks different, time is transformed, hope is born, life becomes a new adventure.

St. Peter put it this way: “Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we’ve been given a brand-new life and have everything to live for, including a future in heaven – and the future starts now!” (1 Peter 1:3,4 The Message)

What do you have to live for? You can live a dead end life whose epicenter is the stone that seals your earth-bound fate. That kind of perspective views mortal life as a downward spiral, ending in extinction, oblivion, and insignificance. Or you can live a heaven-directed life in which the stone has been moved by heavenly powers so that progress is possible. Can this be proved? Can earthquakes, or lightning be recorded and reported? Can progress be measured? Can hope be valued? The proof is to be found in the living out of it. The belief in the resurrection is tested in the laboratory of life. With it “we’ve been given a brand-new life and have everything to live for, including a future in heaven – and the future starts now!” Without it, what do we have?

Thomas Wolfe, in his first autobiographical novel, Look Homeward , Angel, which is significantly subtitled, A Story of the Buried Life (was he thinking of the dead-end life – life in the tomb?), tells the story of the Gant family. Ben tries to get out of the tomb of his buried life by enlisting to serve in the First World War. He goes to the family doctor to get his advice on the value of his life.

In Christ’s name, Coker,” he said, “what’s it all about? Are you able to tell me? What in heaven’s name are we here for? You’re a doctor – you ought to know something.”

Coker continued to look at his cigar. It had gone out again.

“Why?” he said deliberately. “Why should I know anything?”

“Where do we come from? Where do we go to? What are we here for? What the hell is it all about?” Ben cried out furiously in a rising voice. He turned bitterly, accusingly, on the older man. “For God’s sake, speak up, Coker. Don’t sit there like a damned tailor’s dummy. Say something, won’t you?”

“What do you want me to say?” said Coker. “What am I? A mind-reader? A spiritualist? I’m your physician, not your priest. I’ve seen them born, and I’ve seen them die. What happens to them before or after, I can’t say.”

“Damn that!” said Ben. “What happens to them in between?”

“You’re as great an authority on that as I am, Ben,” said Coker. “What you want, son, is not a doctor, but a prophet.”

“They come to you when they’re sick, don’t they?” said Ben. “They all want to get well, don’t they? You do your best to cure them, don’t you?”

“No,” said Coker. “Not always. But I’ll grant that I’m supposed to. What of it?”

“You must all think that it’s about something,” said Ben, “or you wouldn’t do it!”

“A man must live, mustn’t he?” said Coker with a grin.

“That’s what I’m asking you, Coker. Why must he?”

“Why,” said Coker, “in order to work nine hours a day in a newspaper office, sleep nine hours, and enjoy the other six in washing, shaving, dressing, eating at the Greasy Spoon, loafing in front of Wood’s….Isn’t that reason enough for any man? If a man’s hardworking and decent, and invests his money in the Building and Loan every week, instead of squandering it on cigarettes, coca-cola, and Kuppenheimer clothes, he may own a little home some day.” Coker’s voice sank to hush of reverence. “He may even have his own car, Ben. Think of that! He can get in it, and ride, and ride, and ride…..He can be very, very happy. He can take exercise regularly in the Y.M.C.A. and think only clean thoughts. He can marry a good pure woman and have any number of fine sons and daughters, all of whom may be brought up in the Baptist, Methodist, or Presbyterian faiths, and given splendid courses in Economics, Commercial Law, and the Fine Arts, at the State University. There’s plenty to live for, Ben. There’s something to keep you busy every moment. (pp.353,354)

“Where do we come from? Where do we go to? What are we here for?” Is it only to keep busy every moment?

Later on, in the story, Ben, aged twenty six, is dying in the influenza epidemic. His younger brother, Eugene, who hero-worshipped him, has no faith but has to deal with the earthquake he is experiencing.

Eugene stumbled to the other side of the bed and fell upon his knees. He began to pray. He did not believe in God, nor in Heaven or Hell, but he was afraid they might be true. He did not believe in angels with soft faces and bright wings, but he believed in the dark spirits that hovered over the heads of lonely men. He did not believe in devils or angels, but he believed in Ben’s bright demon to whom he had seen him speak so many times.

Eugene did not believe in these things, but he was afraid they might be true. He was afraid that Ben would get lost again. He felt that no one but he could pray for Ben now: that the dark union of their spirits made only his prayers valid. All that he had read in books, all the tranquil wisdom he had professed so glibly in his philosophy course, and the great names of Plato and Plotinus, of Spinoza and Immanuel Kant, of Hegel and Descartes, left him now, under the mastering surge of his wild Celtic superstition. He felt that he must pray frantically as long as the little ebbing flicker of breath remained in his brother’s body.

So, with insane sing-song repetition, he began to mutter over and over again: “Whoever You Are, be good to Ben tonight. Show him the way…. Whoever You Are, be good to Ben tonight. Show him the way…” he lost count of the minutes, the hours: he heard only the feeble rattle of dying breath, and his wild synchronic prayer. (p.556)

I can remember the point in my life when I became aware of death, of my own mortality. It was like an earthquake in my consciousness. The earth moved beneath me and I realized my vulnerability. By the grace of God it was not long before I discovered that the earthquake was accompanied by the angel, and the stone was rolled away. The aftershock of awareness was replaced with the realization of the resurrection of Jesus, and the cosmic shift that had occurred in the geography of eternal life. I did not want to live a buried life like Ben and Eugene Gant. I wanted to have everything to live for and with, and the risen Jesus showed me the way.

That is the Easter promise, the Easter experience. It can be an earthquake to your consciousness. But the effect is for good and for eternity. And the future starts now if you are willing to begin.

(Ted Schroder, SOUL FOOD: DAILY DEVOTIONS FOR THE HUNGRY, Volume 2, April, May June, pp.1-5)