“So this Easter, let us receive again the breath of the Gospel: Christ crucified and risen, present among ordinary people, speaking peace,” writes Moderator Rev Salesi Faupula.
This Easter, many of us come carrying more than we expected.
Summer fires have left a deep impact across Victorian rural communities, and the recovery will take time. Our public life has been strained: immigration protests, hate speech and language that turns people into categories rather than neighbours.
Some of us are grieving. Some are worn out. Some are quietly steady, doing what needs to be done. Many are simply trying to make sense of things.
So what does Easter say to us in a season like this?
John tells us that on the evening of the first Easter Day the disciples were together “with the doors locked” because they were afraid (John 20:19). That detail matters. The first Easter was not a victory moment for people who felt strong. It began with ordinary people who felt exposed, uncertain and unsure what would come next.
And it was into that room that Jesus entered.
He didn’t begin with a rebuke. His first words were: “Peace be with you” (John 20:19). Not peace as avoidance, and not peace as a quick fix. But the peace of Christ, spoken into the real circumstances of real people.
Then Jesus showed them his hands and his side (John 20:20). Even risen, the marks remained. The Gospel doesn’t ask us to pretend suffering does not matter. The cross was not brushed aside on Easter Day; it was carried into Easter. The risen Lord still bore the wounds of Good Friday.
That is part of the steadiness of Christian hope. Healing does not come by God standing back from what is broken, but by God entering it. In Jesus, God takes suffering seriously. The cross tells the truth about sin and violence and human failure, personal and public. The resurrection does not deny that truth; it answers it, declaring that God’s life and love are stronger than the powers that try to close the story.
Back in that locked room, Jesus spoke peace again, and then he breathed on them: “Receive the Holy Spirit” (John 20:22). Easter is not only reassurance; it is new breath, strength for people who feel spent. God gives God’s own self to God’s people, not because they have performed well, but because Christ remains faithful.
And then Jesus said, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you” (John 20:21). Notice the shape: presence, peace, wounds acknowledged, Spirit given, then sending. Jesus met them where they were, and then drew them forward.
This is where the cross and resurrection meet our present moment. The risen Christ sends us to live his way: to love God and neighbour; to seek truth without cruelty; to resist hatred; to honour the dignity of each person; to pursue justice with humility; and to do the slow work of repair and reconciliation. When public debate becomes harsher, Easter calls us back to the pattern of Christ: truthful, patient, and merciful.
Easter does not promise that life will be simple. But it does promise that God acts decisively in Jesus Christ: in the cross, God faces the worst of our world; in the resurrection, God opens a future we could not open for ourselves. The empty tomb is not an escape from reality, it is the beginning of renewal within it.
So this Easter, let us receive again the breath of the Gospel: Christ crucified and risen, present among ordinary people, speaking peace. Deep joy, not forced positivity, but joy grounded in the faithfulness of God. And courage, not loud bravado, but steady strength for the next step of love.
Rev Salesi Faupula
Moderator, Synod of Victoria and Tasmania
