One of the women in my poetry writing group was talking this week about her Easter Sunday gathering with family and friends. She doesn’t identify as Christian, so I asked how they celebrate. “Well,” she said, “Easter is about new life. And it’s spring. That’s about new life. So for a long time now for Easter dinner I ask everyone to go around the table and talk about something new in their life. Ideas about art. New gardens. Places they’re visiting. New things they’ve been realizing. Stuff like that. That can take a while. Then the food comes out and we eat. The topic gets people out of their usual headspace with all the crap going on.”
In the midst of a lot of death and crisis and troubles, this friend asks others to look for life and newness—at least a glimpse of it. She makes space for stories of new life and helps others amplify them for a moment. Her practice makes me think she “gets” Easter better than some Christians probably do. Her Easter dinner practice challenges the notion that all our troubles overwhelm the new and joy-giving Life around us. In her own non-Christian, non-theist way, she’s on the lookout for resurrection.
Likewise, the first couple times I attended Easter services at Phoenix Community Church, the pastor didn’t offer a sermon. Instead, she invited people to share their stories of resurrection. “When,” she asked those gathered, “has new life broken into your world? Your life?” At that point, several years ago, folks lifted up stories about recovering from addiction or coming out as lgbt to friends and family or leaving hostile birth families or reconciling with birth families or standing up at a demonstration or recovery from illness or leaving destructive relationships.
Once the stories started, they could go on for a while. Folks (as least some of them) knew how to name the reality of new life, the presence of resurrection spirit.
I realize now that I have been graced in my life with by countless people—both Christian and not—who bore witness to life and thriving over death and destruction, who testified to love and compassion over fear and self-centeredness, who proclaimed the power of justice and equity over oppression and bigotry.
I realize now that these people—some of whom I’ve never met—have been sort of like the angels of today’s scripture. They’ve appeared in my life and pointed toward transformation, new life, re-creation of this tired world, and restored vitality.
These folks have been artists and writers and activists and gardeners and preachers. They have been friends and mentors, colleagues and students. They have been people I have long relationship with and people I have known only for a moment. Many have simply been kind, generous, and hopeful folk.
Today’s scripture reminds us to look for those who tell us about new life. Those who remind us that the Divine walks among us. Today’s scripture reminds us to listen. To trust the Word of Life. To bear testimony of its reality to others, like the women at the tomb. To explore the possibility of resurrection spirit for ourselves, like Peter. Today’s good news reminds us
To listen
To look
To release stuck perspectives
To wonder
To be amazed
To open to holy surprise
To open to being changed
Those who first knew of the resurrection couldn’t fathom it. Neither can we.
Those who first knew of the resurrection carried news of Life’s power over death-dealing forces to others. We must do the same. Especially now. In whatever ways we can.
Those who first knew of the resurrection let the empty tomb launch them on life-long journeys to wonder, joy, healing, fuller Life, and transformed spirits.
Those who first knew of the resurrection let the empty tomb launch them into lives of discipleship to the One who proclaims the reign of mercy, grace, justice and love.
May we do the same.
-Rev. Ruth Moerdyk