Jesus himself stood among them and said, ‘Peace be with you.’
Startled, they were terrified and thought they were seeing a ghost.
He said to them, ‘Why so frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? Look at my hands and feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see…’
Where have you witnessed resurrection this new day?
Whether we care
to notice it or not,
Spring has sprung.
Whether or not we perceive it,
new life has everywhere erupted;
miraculous and blooming with pungent promise.
But what does resurrection actually bring to life,
amid the deep distresses and desolations
of our times?
How do we open a space
for healing to happen
in a heated climate of suspicion and division?
And what does new life mean for people
whose hearts are boarded-up;
who are incarcerated, burdened and broken?
So here is resurrection’s scandalous secret—
a mystery so deep that no amount of surface-scratching
will remove or reveal it:
Always, always, the Christ appears unbidden,
as the wounded one;
the perforated, broken, visibly damaged life in our midst.
Sometimes that wounded Christ is you;
yes, and sometimes also me.
But more often Christ is fleshed in those we do not care to see.
For resurrection offers no escape from trials, tears or failure.
It promises a wide-wounded embrace,
a welcome solidarity with tangible sufferings and alienations all.
i who have died am
alive again today,
and this is the sun’s birthday; this is the birth
day of life and love and wings… e e cummings
In the embrace of Christhood over cult,
connection over division, and mercy over punishment, resurrection
releases us from prisons of the past; dungeons of our own design.
When we practice Christhood— being in touch with wounded-ness—
the shards of our shattered world stir and shift,
as the heart-like-kaleidoscope turns into the light of a new day.
So may resurrection continue
to interfere with your plans and color your projections.
And may peace punctuate the patterns of your day,