Over the past few days the voices of Good Friday echo in our ears, the cynical voices of the powerful, the baying voices of the crowd, the weeping voices of the women of Jerusalem, the voice of Judas the betrayer, of Peter whose courage failed, the voice from the cross itself, crying in need and dereliction, whispering words of love and hope.
Then came the silence of Holy Saturday, the stark silence of death, the day of emptiness and lifelessness, when hope seemed strangled and futility and despair stalk the stage.
We come again to a garden to listen to a different kind of silence, the silence of a tomb that is empty, a garden with only the singing of birds; the silence of a battle done, peace secured beyond all understanding.
We come to listen to a voice, a voice which speaks to us from the other side of Easter, the other side of death, from beyond the grave, a familiar voice, a known voice, a voice of the Risen Lord calling us by name; the voice of love which will never be silenced.
We come here to our Cathedral this evening/morning, surprised by joy by hearing again the old familiar story of that first Easter, that day of new beginning, that day when it was first whispered and then shouted that Christ is risen from the dead.
As so we come to lay our burdens down, trusting and believing that it is indeed now, now in our lives, now in our world, now that Christ is indeed risen, to the glory of the Father, and that the bonds of sin are broken, death lies defeated, now in our lives love has come again and we are invited to walk into freedom and joy, together with all creation. And so we cry ‘Glory’, so we give thanks, thanks be to God who gives us the victory, through Jesus Christ our Lord.