The Rainbow

What was the hope and the fulfilment? Nay, was it all only a

useless after-death, a wan, bodiless after-death? Alas, and alas

for the passion of the human heart, that must die so long before

the body was dead.

For from the grave, after the passion and the trial of

anguish, the body rose torn and chill and colourless. Did not

Christ say, "Mary!" and when she turned with outstretched hands

to him, did he not hasten to add, "Touch me not; for I am not

yet ascended to my father."

Then how could the hands rejoice, or the heart be glad,

seeing themselves repulsed. Alas, for the resurrection of the

dead body! Alas, for the wavering, glimmering appearance of the

risen Christ. Alas, for the Ascension into heaven, which is a

shadow within death, a complete passing away.

Alas, that so soon the drama is over; that life is ended at

thirty-three; that the half of the year of the soul is cold and

historiless! Alas, that a risen Christ has no place with us!

Alas, that the memory of the passion of Sorrow and Death and the

Grave holds triumph over the pale fact of Resurrection!

But why? Why shall I not rise with my body whole and perfect,

shining with strong life? Why, when Mary says: Rabboni, shall I

not take her in my arms and kiss her and hold her to my breast?

Why is the risen body deadly, and abhorrent with wounds?

The Resurrection is to life, not to death. Shall I not see

those who have risen again walk here among men perfect in body

and spirit, whole and glad in the flesh, living in the flesh,

loving in the flesh, begetting children in the flesh, arrived at

last to wholeness, perfect without scar or blemish, healthy

without fear of ill health? Is this not the period of manhood

and of joy and fulfilment, after the Resurrection? Who shall be

shadowed by Death and the Cross, being risen, and who shall fear

the mystic, perfect flesh that belongs to heaven?

Can I not, then, walk this earth in gladness, being risen

from sorrow? Can I not eat with my brother happily, and with joy

kiss my beloved, after my resurrection, celebrate my marriage in

the flesh with feastings, go about my business eagerly, in the

joy of my fellows? Is heaven impatient for me, and bitter

against this earth, that I should hurry off, or that I should

linger pale and untouched? Is the flesh which was crucified

become as poison to the crowds in the street, or is it as a

strong gladness and hope to them, as the first flower blossoming

out of the earth's humus?