A Mormon's Easter Thoughts

Easter Thoughts

By Ronnie Bray

A gentle knock came to the front door. Gay opened it to find a man offering her a religious tract. As he did so, he invited her to attend his church, saying, “We are celebrating the death of Jesus. Will you join us?” Gay politely declined his kind invitation, declaring, “We celebrate his Resurrection.” 

The interview over, the door closed and Gay was left to ponder his emphasis on the death of Jesus at Easter, rather than on his rising. She told me this when I woke some time later and rejoined the human race. She explained that perhaps she had got herself on her high horse with him. However, considering her highest umbrageous horse is less than a quarter the size of the smallest dwarf miniature steed I doubt that his feelings were bruised.

But, that was not the end of the exchange. During the course of that day, I pondered the conversation and determined that each of them was right to some extent, provided they had not mutually excluded that part of Easter that the other had emphasised. My ruminations led me to acknowledge that Easter is not a single event, but a series of connected and interdependent events, some of which lay far back in human history before the first Easter, some that were significant at the time they took place, and some that reached forwards into a future that was to come, some of which have been, and some that are yet to come.

It became plain that if we divest Easter of any of its appurtenances, even one that seems insignificant, then we do it grave disfavour and diminish its importance. Easter is unchanged by our neglect, but our neglect reduces the blessings we can receive when our meditations and prayers focus on the occasion, because we fail to appreciate the significance and blessings predicated on an inspired recognition of Easter and all its parts.

Access to the complete range of blessings through Easter is God’s method of transforming us into a covenantal relationship with Him, and the means by which he draws us closer to Christ as beings saved by the mystical union that makes us one with Them, and which is the central reason for Easter.

The atonement by sacrifice of the Saviour was established when Heavenly Father brought us, his spirit children that Saint Paul calls, ‘His offspring,’ into life in heaven and prepared the earth to which we would, if obedient, be sent to inhabit mortal bodies to be proven faithful and obedient even when we no longer enjoyed his presence, eventually to return to his presence as resurrected, immortal, and saved beings. It was this opportunity that caused us, his children, to shout for joy, as the prospects were unveiled pre-mortally. The Book of Job refers to this occasion.

Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding. Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest? Or who hath stretched the line upon it? Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? Or who laid the corner stone thereof; when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy? – Job 38:3-7

Our divine Parent foresaw the need for his sons and daughters to be redeemed from their human frailty, and so He prepared for salvation through the divine intervention of a Saviour to bring those that would honour and follow him to become like His Firstborn Son, even Jesus Christ.

For whom he did foreknow, he also did predestinate to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brethren. – Romans 8:29

This redemption of the human family was the grand purpose of Creation. By means of the Fall of Adam and Eve, and their ensuing mortality, these purposes were moved forward. The Fall was not, as some have thought, a tragedy for humanity, but a necessary part of Heavenly Father’s plan of salvation. We owe the opportunities that mortality presents to us to the Fall, for if it had not occurred we would not be capable of becoming as joint heirs with Christ of all that the Father has, including exaltation.

The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God: And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together. – Romans 8:16-17

For many millennia, all that humankind could do was trust God and wait for the Messiah who would redeem man from mortal death and from the consequences of our own sinfulness. This redemption by atonement,  prefigured in the Old Testament Law of sacrifice, under which animals were offered in symbolic sacrifice of that which was to come. This Law was fulfilled when the blood of Jesus Christ was shed as he suffered and bled on the cross at Golgotha.

We may not know, we cannot tell

What pains he had to bear.

But we believe it was for us

He hung and suffered there.

[Mrs Cecil Frances Alexander]

In everything he did, Jesus showed those that follow him how they should live. He was obedient to the will of his Father, he willingly submitted to the commission his Father gave him, and took upon himself the sins and sufferings of humanity so we could re-enter the presence of God our Father when our mortal journeys are run.

Remembering with gratitude all that went before Easter to make it possible, and contemplating the events of Passion Week that culminated in the death and Atonement of Jesus occasions our remembrance and gratitude, both to Jesus as well as to He that sent His Son into the world, and cause us to affirm our obedience as his disciples, as our hearts rejoice for ‘the greatest of all gifts,’ which is eternal bliss in the presence of God and His Christ.

A Joyous and thoughtful Easter to all.

© 2013 – Ronnie Bray

Silent Move the Feet of Angels Bright

Silent Move the Feet of Angels Bright

By Ronnie Bray

Since I learned what she had done, my mind has been occupied with images of her creeping furtively from her door under cover of darkness, passing through my neighbour’s garden, into my garden, and then clambering up the three-foot brick wall under my bay window to peep through the lace curtains of the room in which I slept.  I never saw or heard her and I did not know she had been until she shared her secret with Gay and, after more than two years, Gay mentioned it in conversation, believing that I had known all along.

Many months after Norma died, although I tried to bring back some semblance of normality into my life, I no longer went upstairs to sleep in our bed but slept on the rosy couch we had bought from Neil and Wendy McEwen, and covered myself with a quilt.  In the cold winter months, I put on the maroon blackberry-knit cardigan that Norma made for me, and kept the gas fire on a low setting all through the night to save money on running the central heating.  Then, if I had trouble getting to sleep, I left the television on and that finally soothed me to sleep just as the radio had done when I was a lonely child in my attic bedroom in Fitzwilliam Street.

We had been very happy there, and I loved the house and its warm memories of Norma that spread through it recalling her joyful qualities and infusing me with an indescribable cosiness, even as I missed her company. 

Apart from my good neighbours the Kohlis and the Iqbals, my good friends Silva and John Scott, and Frank Westerby, my insurance man, no one came across my threshold, including those that might be expected to have taken an interest in my well being.  Yet, woven through the peaceful contentment and comfort that I felt stirring through the sights and sounds of my memories was as inexplicable sense of something intangible but superlatively real for which I had no explanation until I learned her secret.

After Norma’s funeral, I had gone down to Telford and stayed with Jo, Nick, and their little family.  They made me very welcome, and without their love and support, and that of Karen’s family, I do not know how I would have coped with life. 

Our marriage was a marriage made in heaven and attended by angels.  Norma grumbled about my driving and occasionally felt that I spent too long at the computer.  I disagreed about my driving, but conceded that I did at times overdo the writing.  Apart from that, there was never the slightest contention between us, and we enjoyed the best relationship of all the married couples we knew, and would not have changed places with any of them, including those of our children.

Our date night was Tuesday, and most often, we snuggled down on the settee with a box of chocolates and some dandelion and burdock to watch an old movie.  We laughed, lived, loved, and laughed some more, and this was the tenor of our days with no grey clouds on the horizon of our course, and never a squall, let alone a storm.  We enjoyed visiting family, loved being with them and their children, but we were always happy to get back home and relax into our mellowing, ripening, sometimes lackadaisical, but always comfortable, lifestyle.  Being home together was the highest joy of our blessed existence.

All of that came to a halt when Norma died and went to her reward, and her well-earned rest from the pain, discomfort, and indignity that she suffered during the three weeks she survived before her illness took her. 

My greatest consolation was the unique love that Luke developed for me.  Words can never express what I felt from him and feel for him.  It is a love beyond the capacity of our earthly understanding, but has its counterpart in heaven where true love is the common language. 

Yet, in my lonely times, an indefinable presence comforted me.  Even though I was not aware of it, I enjoyed its unseen blessings and sensed its pure love, as if from the hand of an angel.

What I did not know and was not to find out for almost three years was that a sweet and lovely girl, Samara Iqbal, used to tiptoe out of her home late at night to visit my house to see if I was alright.  She did not knock at my door, but climbed up on the low wall that surrounded my front garden and peered in through the lace curtains to see if I was all right. 

Sometimes, she confided in Gay, she uneasily watched, as I did not appear to breathe, until she saw some slight movement from me that assured her that I was still breathing.  Then, once she was satisfied that I was alive and well, she returned home where she prayed to Allah for me.

Although I was deeply touched by finding out about her nocturnal errand, I was not surprised.  Since she was just a toddler, Samara had always been a kind and loving girl, eager to please, and with a generous heart concerned more for the welfare of others than for herself.  In many ways, she had been a daughter to me, and still is.  I remember the times she appeared at my door either with a plate of her family’s celebration meal, or with a summons to go to help fix something, help with correspondence, or eat one of Shahidah’s sumptuous Asian meals with the family.  Every visit was attended by an invitation to eat something, and it was very hard to refuse the patient persistent pleading of Shahidah and her eldest daughter, Samara. 

There is comfort in knowing that as I slept in my lonely house, a bright young angel took care to watch and see that all was well with me and, while I am not surprised, my life is brighter, my heart lighter and more joyful for having found out that it was so.  Well did William Blake write:

           …  Silent move

The feet of angels bright;

Unseen they pour blessing,

And joy without ceasing

(‘Night’)

for no angel moved more silently, or poured out more blessing and joy than the unseen Samara keeping her selfless watch of love in the dark hours of cold nights over the unconscious form of a grieving widower who felt that life would never again be pleasant.  I thank Allah for sending His angel, Samara. 

Copyright © Ronnie Bray

28 October 2002 - 2013

All Rights Reserved

A Room With A View

A Room With A View

Ronnie Bray

I am afraid of heights, and so it was strange to me to discover that as the outside elevator on the Skylon on the Canadian side of the Niagara and Horseshoe Falls took us skywards, I felt no pang of fear even when I looked down at the rapidly shrinking ground.  I was a bit miffed at this because I wanted to overcome my fear of those contraptions, and to find that no fear existed robbed me of the opportunity to be brave.

Well, it didn’t happen and so I don’t have a thrilling story of how I overcame a lifetime’s horror and triumphed in mid-air over the demons that scream, You’re going to fall out and die! into the ears of the terrified who unwittingly and without malice aforethought get themselves into situations that they have spent years avoiding.  Instead, I have only a story of wonder to share.

The smooth, almost imperceptible movement of the Yellow Bug lift car reached the upper level restaurant without incident.  No glimmer of panic gripped my pusillanimous soul nor did my heart waver one beat from its steady rhythm.  Almost disappointingly, we were safely delivered, and instantly forgot the ride and its covert nightmare. 

Dinner was a superb buffet.  Having so easily escaped one terror, I was encouraged to live doubly dangerously and opted for the seafood salad with generous undietary amounts of glistening octopus, glowing pink shrimp, and almost indestructible Alaskan Snow Crab legs.  The addition of darkly roasted beef was a gluttonous not so afterthought.

Gay sat, appropriately, to my right, and enjoyed her meal as we exchanged life stories with a young couple across the table from us who, we learned, were one day short of their fiftieth wedding anniversary. 

Ahead of me through the curved window that ran around the circumference of the restaurant, I could see the bright golden sun dipping low in the sky.  Through the next two hours I plotted its course as it swung westwards and earthward changing into a fiery liquid blood-red disc before sliding below the horizon and lighting up the sky with cherry fingers of light before burning out in a final flurry of crimson and orange pulses to leave a world lit only by starlight.

An ensemble of students from a Canadian Seminary played and serenaded us with youthful but good voices.  There was romance in the air as I held Gay’s hand and enjoyed her smile as she talked animatedly to our new friends.  As I remembered how much I loved her and why, my mind wandered back through time to our first meeting and all the meetings since and the miles we had travelled together in our new life, and I was overtaken by a glow of true love.

We had both ventured much to be together.  Both of us had been changed by the experience of moving our lives in different directions and taking a risk on each other.  In spite of the confirmation we had both had that our union was right, we still had to take that walk into the possibility of failure, ride the Lift of Life with all its anxieties, and at least face the probability that we would not succeed. 

How strange that neither of us took occasion to express such trepidation.  Yet, reflection confirms that neither of us held any real concerns once we had discovered the quality of the other.  Having set our course, any fears that may have been entertained failed to materialise, and we always knew that our life together would be good and happy.  How good, and how happy, we could not guess.  Nevertheless, we have been blessed with pure friendship and with an enjoyment of each other’s qualities that are the bedrock of a happy and successful marriage.

Holding her hand and gazing on the darkening world as the stars appeared through the blackness that came after the sun’s pyrotechnic setting, I half-realised, half-remembered that to overcome most fears one has only to face them to see them disappear, and that a life that was guided by signifiers beyond this world but not outside our experience, was one that could not fail. 

Here was love, hundreds of feet above the crashing waters of the turbulent river, safe from the troubles and turmoils of life that destroy peace between husband and wife, away from the rocks of self-interest on which so many marriages fail, raised above ground level to be nearer to heaven and its blessings.  I squeezed her hand and smiled as she turned to me, squeezing my hand in return as lovers do. 

Then I thought of the loveless ones whose marriages are sad and sorry affairs with little approaching civility as their daily fare: those whose relationships are founded on mutual hostility and dislike, and who never know a tender touch or a soft and encouraging word.  The silent contemplation of their unhappy lot chilled the air a little and I felt sorrow for them and almost guilty that I enjoyed enough happiness for more than one joyful family, but found that it was possible only to share the secret with others, but that I could not make them a present of happiness as might be done with money, had that been what was lacking from their lives.

The secret, I determined, glancing briefly at the rainbow-coloured Falls and counting my blessings, was to be completely unselfish and to love absolutely, for perfect love casteth out fear.  The long-stemmed red rose that Gay gently caressed with her lips gave assent in lush but tacit beauty. 

Copyright © October 2000

Ronnie Bray

All Rights Reserved