There is hope, there is possibility, and there is a lot of work to do. This a quick 4 minute read .
Have you noticed something weird going on?
I have.
I’ve noticed people all over the world go from fear to panic to aggression to self-protection to straight hoarding of resources.
I’ve seen people rush to get as much as they can in hopes that having more will help them feel safer, more secure, and prepared.
I notice them take more than they need, keep more than they’ll ever use, and justify it saying: “well, you never know”.
Then, of course, I’ve seen them fight to protect what they have.
I’ve even heard stories of people buying out all the essentials and flipping them at increased prices to desperate buyers.
Supply and demand, I suppose.
Take more than you need, then sell to those who were slower to get what they can’t live without.
It’s been difficult to watch, and even more difficult to know I’m doing it also. Big time. I’ve been a willing participant in the madness. I’m even pretty good at it.
Ah, well…that’s life, right?
Then the coronavirus pandemic hit.
And, like the Easter story goes, we’ve been made to bear our cross and decide if we’ll resurrect or not.
I hope you’ll bear with me. I feel a little in over my head. I’m not a pastor, or spiritual leader; I’m not ordained, or particularly holy; I’m just trying to make sense of a confusing time and using the best thing I’ve got to help me: Easter.
In all of its meaning, for the religious and non-religious alike, Easter is my favorite holiday, and, the more I pay attention to it all, the more it means to me.
It’s the reminder that absolute vulnerability is the starting point for all miracles. And, if vulnerability is the threshold for miracle, then we must be approaching something pretty miraculous.
Easter is the guarantee of what God will do with life’s many crucifixions, and a model for living through our lowest moments. We will suffer, it’s ok to experience that suffering, and surrender to the pain. Then, when we want to be free, we can decide to roll away the stone, wounds intact, and come alive again.
Death, literally and metaphorically, is not to be avoided and does not have the final say. Buildings will fall, bodies will die, songs will end, but what is divine cannot be destroyed.
It’s possible to resurrect.
And every time we do it, we change the world.
And now, here we are.
Quarantined in a tomb, staring at the back end of a stone, drowning in vulnerability at the threshold of a miracle.
And, it’s clear to me that we have some stones to roll away before we cross the threshold. Stones that were here long before the virus arrived.
Stones of shame that lock us in our past.
Stones of consumerism that tell us we’ll never have enough.
Stones of inadequacy that tell us we’ll never be enough.
Stones of otherness that tell us our differences define us.
I know it’s tough. I know it’s scary. I know it seems hopeless.
But, it’s not.
It’s time to listen, time to reflect, time to do the hard work of rolling away the stone, shed what isn’t needed, and reemerge more loving, more generous, more alive.
A miracle, for sure.
He is risen. He is risen, indeed.
And so can we.