Risen Jesus
We thank you for your greeting,
‘Peace be with you’.
The shalom of God, deep lasting peace,
Peace that brings inner calm;
that keeps a person steady in the storm;
that faces the persecutor without fear
and proclaims the good news with courage and joy.
This is the peace that reconciles
sister to brother, black to white,
rich and poor, young and old;
but not peace that is quiet
in the face of oppression and justice
This is peace with God,
the peace that passes understanding.
John Johansen- Berg (based in John 20.19-29 Philippians 4-7)
The Servant Girl at Emmaus
She listens, listens, holding her breath.
Surely that voice
is his — the one
who had looked at her, once,
across the crowd, as no one ever had looked?
Had seen her?
Had spoken as if to her?
Surely those hands were his,
taking the platter of bread from hers just now?
Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?
Surely that face — ?
The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.
The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.
The man it was rumoured now some women had seen this morning, alive?
Those who had brought this stranger home to their table
don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.
But she in the kitchen,
absently touching the wine jug she’s to take in,
a young Black servant intently listening,
swings round and sees
the light around him
and is sure.
Denise Levertov
Emmaus
First the sun, then the shadow,
so that I screw my eyes to see
my friend’s face, and its lines seem
different, and the voice shakes in the hot air.
Out of the rising white dust, feet
tread a shape, and, out of step,
another flat sound, stamped between voice
and ears, dancing in the gaps, and dodging
where words and feet do not fall.
When our eyes meet, I see bewilderment
(like mine); we cannot learn
this rhythm we are asked to walk,
and what we hear is not each other.
Between us is filled up, the silence
is filled up, lines of our hands
and faces pushed into shape
by the solid stranger, and the static
breaks up our waves like dropped stones.
So it is necessary to carry him with us,
cupped between hands and profiles,
so that the table is filled up, and as
the food is set and the first wine splashes,
a solid thumb and finger tear the thunderous
grey bread. Now it is cold, even indoors;
and the light falls sharply on our bones;
the rain breathes out hard, dust blackens,
and our released voices shine with water.
Rowan Williams
Triumphant Jesus
“They took the body of Jesus and bound it in linen cloths with the spices.”
John 19.40
You raised Lazarus from dead, saying
“Unbind him, let him go free.”
You too were bound and laid to rest
in a cold tomb, freshened by myrrh and aloes.
Unbind us so that we may also go free.
In sorrow we left you as the dead Jesus
and in wonder you returned to us as the Risen Christ.
Untied from the strips of linen,
you offered us a new-found freedom.
Raise us from the coldness of the tomb in which we are trapped.
With this freedom we are empowered to make choices
about our lifestyle and attitudes,
But our human frailty prevents us from being courageous
by taking those first vital steps.
Release us from the self-imposed exile of our prejudices.
Amen.
Tony Singleton/CAFOD