by Ruth Gee.
Writing in another week of news about the actions of powerful leaders and the impact of their decisions on the most vulnerable in the world, I am reminded of a paradox at the heart of the Christian faith. The sorrow of Holy Week, including the crucifixion and death of Jesus and the long, despairing wait on Holy Saturday are transformed to joy on Easter Day as we proclaim, “Alleluia, Christ is risen. He is risen indeed! Alleluia!” St Paul wrote, “…God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.” (1 Corinthians 1:25). It is this that we proclaim as followers of Jesus in whom the glory of God was revealed on the cross.
On 24 May 1738, John Wesley came to a deep realisation that assurance was not something that could ever result from his own actions and strengths but is a gracious gift from God. Any true strength we have comes only from acknowledging our weakness and our need of grace.[i]
As I reflected on these things, I was reminded of a reflection that I wrote some years ago:
Mother and Son: End and Beginning.
Your hair is so dark, streaked with red, the blood of birth. They told me you would be born with hair when they knew how very sick I felt as I carried you, my son. How could human hair have so profound an effect on me and on you? This dark hair can never be cut; it marks you out as chosen for better or for worse.
I remember the first time I felt that overwhelming nausea and the faintness that made me sit down quickly to prevent falling. I didn’t know what was wrong and I was frightened until he explained it to me. I never expected to be pregnant, no-one expected that of the barren one. That is how I am known, the barren wife of Manoah, descendent of a people once great and now without hope. Your birth has changed all that, with you the change begins. This is the promise made to me and binding on you, God’s promise to the nameless that the sun will rise in its might. You are named for that promise, Samson.
You are precious my son, full of potential and offering so much hope. The blood of life and death runs through your dark hair.
Your grip on my finger is strong, your mouth moves urgently, seeking comfort from the breast. You suck and are at peace. Sure of your own importance you are at the centre of your own world. All is well. All is quiet and there is a hush of expectation in the air.
Outside your range of dim vision, he arrives and the sound of sudden movement startles you. Your arms fly up and out pushing against the weak resistant air until all is well again – you are at rest. My son with blood-streaked hair.
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Mother, see me bound in chains and led by a child. Where is the promise now? Blood from the beating is sticky in my new born hair. I am in pain. I long for your love, your trust, your hope – all gone now and buried in sorrow.
I have no ass or fox or fire to help me here. They are taunting me and I am alone with only the hesitant grip of a child to keep me safe. Named for the sun, I see no light. My enemies have my eyes, my lover has my hair, and a child has my hand in this place of fear and darkness.
I am the centre of a celebration that is not mine. I am important only for my weakness, the product of treachery and broken promises. I am a symbol of all who place their hope in their own strength and desire beauty above truth. I am God forsaken; my bones are as wax and my heart thrice broken.
I, who cannot be held, am bound to solid stone and I am desolate. There is no comfort now, not even from the small hand of the child. The tumultuous crowd quietens into a pregnant, expectant, dark silence. Is this the quiet before the storm?
Then, beyond my dimmed vision I hear a sudden movement. Like a startled infant, I call out – “Mother, God help me!” My arms fly out and up and push against the stone and the blood runs through my dark new hair.
It is finished.
(Judges chapters 13-16)
[i] On 24 May 1738, John Wesley wrote, “I felt I did trust I Christ, Christ alone, for salvation; and an assurance was given me that he had taken away my sins, even mine, and saved me from the law of sin and death.”
Theology Everywhere 