Practice Resurrection
The title for this Easter sermon is taken from a Wendell Berry poem, “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” Whether or not we find meaning in the Easter story on the literal level, we can find clues about the path of service, coping with loss, and reconciliation.
Rain hammered on the canvas roof while the actors valiantly continued with their performance. Their voices were almost audible over the storm from my vantage point in the back row. I was working at an outdoor summer theater, doing public relations and house management. The summer season would be over in a week or so. Between the rain and the flood warning in effect for our area, I wondered if the end would come even sooner.
I also wondered what my apartment would look like in the morning. The theater had sublet places all over town for the cast, crew, and administrative staff. I was with a group in some basement apartments by the river. On a nice day, I could look out my window and see the river flowing by. Any flooding would certainly reach my doorstep. I had packed everything I could into my car and made plans to stay with a co-worker who lived on higher ground.
The next day, I drove to the apartment building to check it out. The water level was past my doorstep, all the way to the top of my front door. I drove to the office and sat in the lobby in shock. Although my losses were minimal and I had planned to move on in a few weeks anyway, I was bewildered and angry at the universe for pushing me out of my temporary home.
When the waters receded, it was still too wet to get much done in the outdoor theater. The technical director rounded up the crew and asked them to start salvage work in the basement apartments by the river. I stopped by to see if I could retrieve any of the things I hadn’t been able to fit in my car before the flood. My former apartment looked like a wet cave.
One of the crew members, I’ll call him Allen, held up a bag covered in mud. “I think we found your purse,” he said. He had set it aside for me with great concern. Allen and I had a respectfully distant working relationship. He didn’t have any reason why he should go out of his way to be nice to me. Yet he was here, ankle-deep in the rubble of my apartment, and looking pretty cheerful about it. I, on the other hand, was feeling hopeless about starting the next chapter of my life.
I look back on that time and I can see now that I was missing some pretty big clues about starting over. As John sang earlier, there is a good feeling to getting back on track. I wasn’t getting that feeling.
I think the message of Easter is one of getting back on track. Reading about the Jesus movement around the time of his death, I find wisdom about the renewal of hope in times of despair. There are everyday habits that can help us as individuals or as communities to cultivate resilience. Jesus, like other rabbis before him, spoke about alliances with the forces of life, not shrinking our horizons in response to force.
Finding renewal involves some apparent reversals of the values of the material world. Instead of focusing on personal advancement, the Easter story advises a life of service. Instead of separating ourselves from suffering, the Easter story suggests that hope is found when we can be present to suffering. Instead of cutting our ties in response to disappointment, the Easter story urges reconciliation.
These ideas seem counter-intuitive. Wendell Berry illustrates just how unusual it would be to “practice resurrection” in his poem, “Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.” (I will return to this poem several times.) Allying with the forces of life doesn’t necessarily look like common sense to the outside observer.
Perhaps the Easter message about resilience or the Mad Farmer’s practice of resurrection would have been useful to me when I was feeling resentful about the flood and its aftermath. My co-workers had found some respite in service to our staff community, working hard for a goal beyond their own interests. When I emerged from self-pity into awareness of my own loss and the losses all over town, the perspective helped me to get back on track. Allen’s gesture of kindness softened my heart, and made me realize that reconciliation is yet another path to resilience.
In our congregation, we represent a range of opinions about the historical truth or the centrality of the Easter story. Some of us may see the bodily resurrection of Christ as the essential element of the story. Others of us don’t find the literal level of the story meaningful, but can see Easter as a metaphor. I believe all of us can apply the wisdom of Easter as we cultivate renewal in our communities and our lives. Follow a path of service. Be present to loss. Find the courage for reconciliation. These everyday habits, counter-intuitive as they might seem, are ways to practice resurrection.
Invest in the Millennium: The Path of Service
The stories I remember most from the Christian scriptures are about service to others; actions such as healing and comforting. Jesus repeats the Jewish wisdom about loving your neighbor as yourself. He demonstrates a life that prioritizes service above accruing wealth or political power or the esteem of the elite. The Passion narratives depict Jesus repeating this essential message to his disciples before his death. The apostles don’t necessarily get it. In the Book of Luke, Jesus has to correct them one more time during the Last Supper.
A dispute also arose among them as to which one of them was to be regarded as the greatest. But he said to them, “The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them; and those in authority over them are called benefactors. But not so with you; rather the greatest among you must become like the youngest, and the leader like one who serves. For who is greater, the one who is at the table or the one who serves? Is it not the one at the table? But I am among you as one who serves.” (Luke 22:24-27; all Bible quotes in this sermon are from the NRSV)
In the Book of John, Jesus goes even further. He demonstrates the message of service in actions rather than in words alone.
Jesus … got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him. (John 13:4-5)
After washing their feet, Jesus explains, “For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you.” (John 13:15)
I can’t think of a way that Jesus could have made his point more clearly: none of us are too good to serve. Service is an absolutely vital component of the spiritual path being outlined in the Easter story. In the Book of John, Jesus does a lot of explaining. That the author chose this point for a concrete demonstration brings home the importance.
Wendell Berry translates the idea of humble service in a variety of ways. “Love the world. Work for nothing,” he writes. To put it another way, “Invest in the millennium.” This is one way to “practice resurrection.”
I have seen renewal in progress with youth when they have a chance to do a service project, especially one involving animals. Hands-on service projects are hard to arrange with children and youth under 18, mostly because of liability concerns, somewhat because adults have a hard time imagining the gifts that young people have to offer.
One year, I served as an advisor for a small Unitarian Universalist youth group that encompassed several difficult stories. Challenges that the youth faced included experience with foster care, a parent in recovery, learning disabilities, and managing conflicting cultural expectations. Those were just the challenges I knew about. With everything going on in their lives, several of the youth had developed a protective layer of sarcasm. I caught a glimpse of the compassion underneath that layer when we went to the animal shelter.
The independent, no-kill animal shelter was willing to take us on for a day of service. We listened to the volunteer coordinator and watched a training video before being led into the area where cats were waiting for adoption. The volunteer coordinator explained that many of the cats had been rescued from the streets or from abusive homes. The cats needed to spend time around humans who would show kindness if the cats chose to approach, and who would respect their boundaries if they chose not to approach.
The youth looked like they had snuck into paradise. They were absolutely focused on the needs of the animals around them. Hardly an insult was hurled from one youth to another. One of the older teens, a boy who made a point of displaying his toughness, was playing with a kitten who looked like she had been through a few fights of her own. The kitten scratched the back of his hand. I held my breath, waiting to see if he would retaliate. “It’s OK,” he told the kitten in a low voice. The kitten stalked off and cleaned herself.
I truly believe that I witnessed a kind of resurrection at the animal shelter. By practicing empathy together, we were all able to be more fully ourselves for a day. The path of service may not yield “the quick profit, the annual raise,” or “more of everything ready-made” (to quote Wendell Berry). Instead, we find renewal for ourselves and for our communities. The Spirit of Life responds when we reach out, lifting compassion above conventional power.
Listen to Carrion: Be Present to Suffering
Sometimes, before we can find our call to service, we have to practice resurrection by being fully present to loss and suffering. Occasionally, the seeds of hope are fertilized by the passing away of what we have known. This isn’t true every time; sometimes loss is simply loss. Even then, honoring grief within ourselves and others now can make way for the new life that may come later. Wendell Berry puts it this way:
Say that the leaves are harvested
when they have rotted into the mold.
Call that profit. Prophesy such returns.
Put your faith in the two inches of humus
that will build under the trees every thousand years.
Listen to carrion – put your ear
close, and hear the faint chattering
of the songs that are to come.
Humus, the rich layer of decaying plants that feeds new life, comes from the same root word as human. Like the earth, layers of destruction and renewal compose our lives. We ignore one part of the cycle at the expense of the other.
In the Easter story, the people who show the most strength for being present to loss are the women at the cross and at the tomb. In the Book of Matthew, it is Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Joseph who refuse to turn away from the crucifixion, who follow Jesus’ body to the tomb, and who return to the tomb promptly after the Sabbath. Because they showed up, because they were not afraid to stand in the midst of suffering and death, the Marys were there to meet the angel who announced the resurrection. “For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men,” (Matthew 28:4) but the two Marys listened. As soon as they accepted the angel’s message and turned to run and tell the others, the women met Jesus himself. (Matthew 28:8-9) Without their ability to be present to loss, there would have been no message. Easter follows Good Friday in the way that spring follows fall and winter. Humus feeds new life.
Most people, I think, have a variety of techniques for protecting ourselves from true compassion or from facing our own suffering. I find myself filling up my schedule with self-important busyness in order to wall off feelings of grief or sympathy. Many of us have witnessed some other avoidance strategies, like retail therapy or substance use or a steady diet of apathy. Another technique I’ve tried is unjustified, optimistic fortune telling. “I just know everything will turn out for the best.” “Someday you will look back on this as a learning experience.” That’s not actually comforting in the most difficult circumstances. Whether I’m telling myself or someone else, rushing to the happy ending is not the same as opening my heart in recognition of the pain of the here and now.
Being present is really hard. Sitting with someone we care about when they are in pain is hard. Working for justice when justice is slow in coming is hard. Standing ankle-deep in rubble, facing the aftermath of a flood is hard. On the other hand, when healing and renewal do come, we’ll miss it if we’re not present. If we hide from winter, we miss the spring.
Prophetic souls know something about being witnesses to suffering. Leaders in justice movements have to know the heartbreaking truth of what’s really happening in order to lead heart-healing efforts for change. An article by Ruth Hawley-Lowry on the Sojourners blog reminded me about this. She writes:
This Easter is April 4, the 42nd anniversary of the martyrdom of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I first became aware of the importance of the April 4 date twenty years ago at Riverside Church in New York City. I asked the Rev. Dr. James A. Forbes and then-pastor of the church why they remembered the date. He explained, “Because it’s too easy to forget. Most people are quick to run to the empty tomb and spend very little time at the cross.”
Hawley-Lowry goes on to name some of the places where Dr. King was able to be present to suffering. He worked in solidarity with peace activists and garbage workers as well as the civil rights movement. His ability to speak the truth was rooted in his ability to see the realities of pain and renewal.
In order to practice resurrection, we have to begin where we are. Being present to suffering as well as to the possibilities for healing is an everyday practice of awareness. This is one of the clues to resilience in the Easter story.
Love Someone Who Does Not Deserve It: Reconciliation
The path of service and being present to loss are two ways to practice resurrection. A third practice involves reconciliation with other people. I’m not talking about cheap grace. Returning to right relationship takes work. On the other hand, when we have the courage to forgive ourselves and each other, to overcome the fear that divides people against ourselves, we are better able to find renewal in our connections with others.
In the Easter story, we see the disciples display some very human failures. They fall asleep while Jesus prays in the garden at Gethsemane. (Mark 14:32-42) They scatter when Jesus is arrested. (Mark 14:50) Peter, after insisting he would never do this, denies Jesus three times in one night. (e.g., Mark 14:66-72) Jesus knows this is going to happen, and he covenants with them anyway at the last supper. In the weeks after his death, the disciples find a way back into relationship with one another. They overcome their fear of assembling together and being associated with an executed criminal. Rather than pretending the whole thing never happened, they talk about their departed teacher. In those moments of gathering and reconciling, Jesus appears.
As the story is told in the Book of Luke, two of the disciples are joined by a stranger as they travel on the road and talk about what happened. They don’t recognize the stranger until that evening, when Jesus “took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them.” (Luke 24:13-30) This is a reminder of the Last Supper. Cross culturally, eating together is a symbol of a relationship at peace. Jesus appears again when all of the apostles have gathered together. (Luke 24:36) They practiced resurrection by overcoming the fear that divides people from one another.
I think this is what Wendell Berry is talking about when he presents two options for relationships between people. If we want to join the Mad Farmer Liberation Front, “Love someone who does not deserve it.” On the other hand, “Be afraid to know your neighbors and to die” if we want to be “shut away in a little drawer.” The Easter story and Wendell Berry tell us that love is not a matter of serving our own needs, but of allying with the forces of life. When we have been frightened into isolation or when our relationships have been broken, gathering again and healing is difficult. When we are able to manage it, reconciliation is one way to practice resurrection.
People make mistakes. In the Easter story, we read that the disciples made a whole lot of them. People become distant for a variety of reasons. Returning to repair damaged relationships, overcoming the fear that divides us, doing the work of reconciliation, this is one way to practice resurrection.
Conclusion
Serving others, bearing witness to suffering, and reconciling relationships all seem counter-intuitive to the values of the material, political world. These aren’t the actions of someone who values return on investment or the accrual of power more than their loyalties to life and love. Cultivating renewal means aligning our values with a deeper truth, with the lifespan of the sequoias and the ambitions of dry leaves on the forest floor. The Easter story includes wisdom for everyday habits of resilience. Let us put our hands to work in service. Let us open our hearts to compassion in the present moment. Let us open our minds to forgiveness. Practice resurrection.
So be it. Blessed be. Amen.
