The Easter Message from the University Vice Chancellor (Manu Folau), Rev Prof. Dr Upolu Luma Vaai.
I write this message as the world is absorbed by so much grief, wounded by multiple converging forces, overwhelmed by a growing conviction of the deficit of grace. The interplay of growth, power, and ecological violence; the vagueness of global peace due to wars and genocides; the re-emergence of racism and violence against migrants and indigenous peoples; poverty and the recurrence of slavery ideologies; the leadership crisis and corruption; the intensifying climate change and biodiversity loss; the increasing extractive economic interests against planetary boundaries; are all multiple convergences that are contributing to the wounds of the world. More disturbing is that this grief conceals a wounded God who has become a victim to political and theological advantages to warrant the many wounds we see today.
Is there hope in a wounded world? The answer to this question lies in the woundedness of God in Christ in the Spirit. While the world sees woundedness as a sign of a deficit of grace, Easter exposes it as a sign for a surplus of grace. The resurrection did not remove the scars of violence from the hands and feet of Jesus, it repurposed them as a tool against the empires. Jesus’ scarred hands offer an alternative to hand tainted by the blood of the innocents. The scars provided us a window into God’s intensity of grace amid the intensity of grief. It is in moments of intense grief that hint at the foretastes of intense grace. Faith in the unreachable resurrection depends on how we embrace the unreachable pain of dying and being wounded. The strongest manifestation of hope is when we choose the story of woundedness as an integral part of our story of resurrection.
Luke’s resurrection story (chapter 24) invites us to walk with the two disciples to Emmaus. A journey marked by a growing conviction of the deficit of grace after witnessing the violence and crucifixion of their leader. The loss of their prophet is a loss of hope. “We had hoped he was the one who was going to redeem Israel” (v.21). Jerusalem is stained with the blood of the promised Messiah. Now he is gone. The only choice is to walk away. Leave Jerusalem. But we have to be prepared that sometimes God isn’t done with us. Our journey of walking away may encounter a leap of benevolence to receive the wounded Christ.
At least this is what happened to the two disciples. Luke’s post resurrection story begins with the two ‘walking away’ from a violent stricken Jerusalem. The Holy Week exposes the flaws in our doctrines, our theologies, our cultures and traditions, and our convictions that seem to represent the irony of faith in God who takes pleasure in wounding the innocent, especially the poor.
Today, like the two disciples, we like to think we are walking with Christ, but we don’t know him at all. We walk away from the victims of violence by supporting and cheering leadership that incite violence. We force God to walk away with us by supporting policies that hurt and wound the innocent, including God’s creation. Today protecting our institutional credibility seems to have more value than caring for the life of a wounded stranger. And the value of worshipping an Omni God far exceeds the value of a God who is wounded alongside the victims of violence. Easter calls us to re-examine our theologies of God.
In the story, something happened that opened the eyes of the two disciples. It was when a ‘mat of reception’ was extended to receive a stranger, who happened to be Christ, sharing their space, stories, and a meal that opened their eyes to the intensity of grace. Most importantly, reception was extended even before they realised he was Lord. A ‘mat of reception’ was offered to replace a ‘mat of exclusion’ before he was fully revealed. This makes the encounter genuine. Such an act resulted in a shift from ‘walking with’ to ‘walking into’ the wounded life of Christ, and hence simultaneously ‘walking into’ their own wounds.
By participating in the breaking of bread, the early church’s way of collective reception, the two disciples realised a familiar presence. Familiar words. Familiar gesture. Familiar scent. Hence the wounded Christ is not an idea. He is presence. He is present wherever we break bread, share, and embrace a stranger. The breaking and sharing of bread was a deliberate rearrangement of the table to include a wounded stranger. Something that we have lost today.
After the encounter with the wounded Christ, the two disciples, armed with the intensity of grace, decided to return to Jerusalem, a place they fled from due to violence. Their return to the site of a wounded community marked the start of ‘walking in’ Jesus. They first returned to the other 11 disciples who were still in Jerusalem. Through them, a surplus of hope encouraged the disciples who were still struggling with the idea of God abandoning them. “It is true, the Lord has risen” (v.34), the two gladly reaffirmed to everyone.
Returning to embrace the community of victims and mourners wounded by violence, grief, and loss, is a sign of a living resurrection. It is in this burst of curious intensity that leads to a burst of collective intensity. ‘Walking in’ is about walking in Christ through recognising and embodying the wounds of others. This is a community effort. Grace with a community accent is intensely embodied in the context of intense disembodiment.
This is a reflection of the Triune God, the Divine Community, walking ‘with’, ‘into’, and ‘in’ each other in their moments of woundedness. The Son’s journey of woundedness is the Father’s and Spirit’s journey of distress. This is the divine ‘mat of reception.’ When one is wounded, the whole is wounded, as the Cappadocian Fathers remind us. The cross is not a symbol of an abandoned Son wounded on the cross. It is a symbol of divine embodied woundedness. The intensity of grace is a result of the fact that the ‘whole of God’ was wounded.
As we encounter a convergence of multiple crises contributing to many wounds in the world today, Easter reminds us that the intensity of grace will always be sufficient for an intensity of grief. This message is an invitation to all of us not just to pray, but to be a model of reception and the intensity of grace amid the intensity of suffering and pain in the world today.
Manuia le Eseta!
