It was beautiful, splendid, magnificent! Everything was there: trees, mountains, peacocks, waterfalls, daffodils. And it all worked! Birds sang, each to their own tune, brooks babbled, bees buzzed, reed swayed, elephants trumpeted and the wriggly little creatures wriggled. All was good, so very, very good. Except for those two, the man and the woman in the garden. It could have been good for them as well, had they lived by the guidelines God had given them. But somehow they were not able or willing to do so. They chose to live by their own plan, with all the devastating consequences one could expect.
And their children aren’t any better. One brother slays the other. A while later followed by more envy and hatred amongst brothers, to such a point where the youngest is sold as a slave. Before you can blink twice an entire people is enslaved. Toiling in a far and unfriendly land.
We see people moving about, undertaking all sorts, but it doesn’t bring them anything, it doesn’t get them anywhere. We see people getting divided: poor and rich, black and white, powerful and powerless, masters and slaves. Some live in obscene wealth brought on by the hard labour of many.
The beautiful, splendid creation of yore has turned into a desert of greed, abuse, betrayal, shame and injustice. And how little is left of the first word God ever spoke: light. A withering flame, a ray of sunshine here or there. But mainly dark skies, clouds, twilight, gloom.
In no way does this world resemble the world that should have been and could have been, if everything had gone according to plan. Time and again God interferes to get things back on track. One prophet after another is sent to warn and confront and educate this stubborn lot. But no use. Whatever promises are made, whatever prospects are offered, the people will not listen. And at the same time they suffer collectively and each for themselves. They suffer deeply and in their wounded heart is this desperate longing for something or someone who will bring love, peace, comfort, words of wisdom.
Somewhere at this point it dawns to God that starting anew may be the best thing to do. A new beginning. A new man, to mend what was broken, to set straight what had so sadly been messed up. A new human, who does understand the original plan, who breathes the original spirit and who carries divine salvation in his name. A new man, light from light, so close to God that sometimes you can hardly tell which one of them is speaking.
Needless to say that not everyone was pleased with his coming into this world. Those in power want to stay in power. Those with great wealth wish to keep it.
Fortunately there are also many people who have longed for this man. They invite him in their homes and lives and hearts. They want to be near him, hear him speak, for they feel whole again in his presence, invigorated by the love and light he has come to bring.
How intense was their joy, their feeling of relief and enlightenment, of finally being heard and seen and touched and healed. How devastating was the blow for them of seeing this man, this new light, being murdered right before their eyes. And how totally heartbreaking must have been their grief for this dear, kind man. This man who was as good as God.
Of all the people it is precisely the purest, the sweetest, the dearest that is now taken away from them. And all he did was bringing love, spreading light, lifting up what had fallen, caring for the lost lamb, the smallest child, the poorest beggar, the flickering flame, the sparrow.
It is in this state of total despair, shock and bewilderment that some of them, women, make their way to where he is buried. With ointment and herbs to care for his body. The only thing they can do now for their beloved friend.
It’s the early morning after Sabbath. The sun rises but their heart is dark and cold as the grave. And heavy and sad. For everything they hoped for has come to an end. All is lost, broken, finished. All roads end here, at this godforsaken place where a few days earlier their beloved friend was layed to rest.
Yet, precisely there, they learn that it is not the end. An angel, or is it a man in white clothes, speaks to them: why do you seek life in this place of death? The light God gave to the world is not here anymore. It can not be kept in dark graves, as none of Gods children are left behind in such places. For that is not what they are made for. They are meant to arise from darkness and death and live, again and again and again.
