Good news: spring is here. My fig tree is unfurling new leaves,
like pale green candle flames at the tips of every branch. The
hills are green, with banks of orange poppies and purple
skyrockets. My favorite wildflower, lupine, has not yet appeared,
but it is coming. It is worth waiting for, worth watching for.
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Good news: spring is here. My fig tree is unfurling new leaves, like pale green candle flames at the tips of every branch. The hills are green, with banks of orange poppies and purple skyrockets. My favorite wildflower, lupine, has not yet appeared, but it is coming. It is worth waiting for, worth watching for.
Good news: we had enough rain. Not an over-abundance; we could use some more, but enough is as good as a feast. Uvas Creek is running, so are Bodfish Creek and Sprig Creek and Eastman Canyon Creek. The waters of Uvas Reservoir lap serenely near the high water mark. The snow pack is reported to be ample. We have been spared a drought for another year.
Easter is this Sunday. It snuck up on me this year. Easter is a movable feast; it is held on the first Sunday after the first full moon of spring. The date of the vernal equinox varies by a day or two, depending on how recently we have had a leap year. The first full moon of spring can occur on the vernal equinox or 28 days later. Sunday can be that day or six days afterward.
The cumulative variations make for quite a lot of variability. This year Easter comes as early as it possibly can. I am not ready for the holiday but I am ready for the holy day. Today is Good Friday, the day the Holy One of God died for my sins. Your sins, too. Jesus was God; He could take the punishment for everyone’s sins.
The 12 apostles knew that He was the Christ, the Messiah, Son of the Living God. Who better? They had followed Him for three years in the long loop from Bethsaida to Bethany. They had seen Him heal the sick, give sight to the blind, cast out demons, feed thousands, walk on water, still a storm, raise the dead. They had heard Him teach. They had accompanied Him on His triumphal entry into Jerusalem. They had prepared the Passover for Him; He had washed their feet. Now they heard Him speak again, foretelling His betrayal and death and resurrection, promising them eternal life, promising them the gift of the Holy Spirit.
He broke the bread, He passed the wine. “Take, eat,” He said. “This is my body. This is my blood.” He went forth from that supper o the garden of Gethsemane to pray that He could be spared what was to follow, but, He said, “not my will, but Thine, be done.” And He was taken and beaten and spat upon and mocked and flogged and crucified. He died. The Romans pierced His side with a spear to make certain. Blood and water came out. He was hurriedly buried so that the Sabbath could be celebrated.
The tomb was sealed. The disciples cowered and hid. On the third day, Sunday, women took spices and went to the tomb to prepare the body for final burial. The tomb was empty. They assumed at first His body had been stolen. Then they saw Him, risen, as He said. Those who had not yet seen Him tended to scoff, until He appeared to them. Eventually He appeared to 500 of those who had seen Him alive and dead.
He told the disciples, “You shall be witnesses for me in Jerusalem, in Judea, in Samaria, and in all the parts of the earth.” Then He ascended into Heaven. The disciples had forsaken Him in death, they had gone into hiding, they had gone back to being fishermen. But after Jesus ascended, they became His witnesses. Not for fame or power or glory or gold – they received none of those, only martyrs’ deaths. But they were not afraid to die any more. Jesus had overcome death and promised them eternal life. He makes the same promise to His disciples today.
That is Good News indeed. Jesus will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. That is something worth waiting for, something worth watching for. That should be even better than lupine.
