Tuesday in the Octave of Easter

April 6, 2021

Today, in God’s Lavish Mercy, we pray with Psalm 33 which connects two powerful readings from Acts and John’s Gospel.

Acts describes for us a gathered crowd which, upon Peter’s inspired preaching, become a repentant, converting community. Peter speaks a word that changes them. They are struck through to their core by the enormity of Christ’s sacrifice for them.

Now when they heard (Peter’s preaching),
they were cut to the heart,
and they asked Peter and the other Apostles,
“What are we to do, my brothers?”

Acts 2:37

In our Gospel, a bereaved Mary Magdalene’s heart is cut as well – with sorrow, confusion, and grief. But in that moment when Jesus simply speaks her name, she is awakened, healed, and energized.

What Word is it that our heart longs for today as we pray? What healing, light, and conversion do these readings hold for us as we open our hearts to Easter grace? 

We, too, like Peter’s congregation, have come to hear a Word that transforms us. We, too, like Mary have been waiting in Hope outside the tomb. As we pray today’s scriptures, let’s listen for our name.

Our soul waits for the LORD,
    who is our help and our shield.
May your kindness, O LORD, be upon us
    who have put our hope in you.

Psalm 33:20,22

Poetry: Say My Name – Meleika Gesa-Fatafehi

It is a good day to think about how important one’s name is to them, especially as it expresses our spiritual, familial and cultural rootedness. Meleika Gesa-Fatafehi is a proud Black/Indigenous, Pasifika and West Asian writer. She is from Murray (Mer) Island, from the Zagareb and Dauareb tribes.

My name was my name before
                            I walked among the living
               before I could breathe
               before I had lungs to fill
before my great grandmother passed
               and everyone was left to grieve

My name was birthed from a dream
               A whisper from gods to a king
               A shout into the stars that produced
                             another that shone as bright
They held me without being burnt, humming lullabies in pidgin

My name was passed down from my
               ancestors
They acknowledged my roots grew in two
               places
So, they ripped my name from the ocean
               and mixed it into the bloodlines of my totems

My name has survived the destruction of worlds
and the genocidal rebirthing of so-called ones
It’s escaped the overwhelmed jaw of the death bringer
               Many a time
It has survived the conflicts that resulted in my gods,
               from both lands, knowing me as kin,
but noticing that I am painfully unrecognisable and lost
They are incapable of understanding
               the foreign tongue that was forced on me

My name has escaped cyclones and their daughters
It has been blessed by the dead
As they mixed dirt, salt and liquid red,
               into my flesh
My name is the definition of resilience
It is a warrior that manifested because of warriors

So, excuse me as I roll my eyes or sigh as you
mispronounce my name
               over and over again
Or when you give me another
               that dishonours my mother and father
That doesn’t acknowledge my lineage to my island home
or the scents of rainforest and ocean foam
You will not stand here on stolen land
               and whitewash my name
For it is two words intertwined
               holding as much power as a hurricane
Say it right or don’t say it at all
For I am Meleika
               I will answer when you call

Music: You Know My Name – Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir

(You may come upon an ad in the middle of today’s music — because it is rather long. Just clip the “Skip Ads” after a few seconds and you’ll get back to the choir)