Resurrection Happens In Us

The Gospel of Mark is the shortest gospel and the earliest gospel, written somewhere in the 8^th decade of the 1^st century. Mark wasn’t one of the original disciples, but he was one of the first to try and put the stories of Jesus into some sort of cohesive chronological order. But Mark’s resurrection story, his Easter morning story, leaves us wanting - the women find an empty tomb and a white-robed messenger, but simply run away afraid. The end.

It apparently left people of his time wanting, too, since at some point two other endings were written for Mark. But what if we simply took Mark as originally written? What message might it have for us today, even if it leaves us hanging?

Consider the white robed figure (who, incidentally, becomes an angel in the other gospels) who says to the women, if you’re looking for Jesus, he isn’t here. Go tell Peter and the others that he has gone ahead of you to Galilee like he told you he would.

Bishop John Shelby Spong interprets this in a way that I find compelling. He says,

We will see [Jesus], the promise of Mark’s messenger seems to say, when our eyes are open to the meaning of God found in the midst of life, in the expression of love and in the courage to be. That is, we are resurrected when we learn that God is present when… we life fully, love wastefully and become all that we are capable of being.

What if the white-robed youth is saying that resurrection isn’t something that only happened to Jesus. What if resurrection has a new meaning that we only find when we return home and go about life? What if resurrection is something that happens in each of us when we have eyes to see and ears to hear? What if we are resurrected when we discover God in the midst of the life we have when we, in Spong’s words, “live fully, love wastefully and become all that we are capable of being”?

Spong says that Easter opens our eyes. It opens our eyes to see that the answers about Jesus won’t be found in the empty tomb that Jesus was laid in, nor will the answers we seek for ourselves be found in the tombs of our lives.

Metaphorically, the "tombs of our lives" could represent the places, experiences, or mindsets where we feel trapped, stagnant, or buried by past hurts, regrets, or fears. They might be moments when our dreams seem unreachable, or when we are weighed down by guilt and grief. These tombs are the spaces within ourselves where hope feels lost, but also where transformation and new beginnings can emerge if we choose to step out into the light.

The women were looking for Jesus in all the wrong places, not willing to turn their back on the empty tomb and embrace new possibilities until the mysterious person in white nudges them… remember what Jesus told you? He’s going ahead of you to Galilee, look for him there, not here among the dead.

Do we, too, seek things in the wrong places, refusing to turn our backs to the tombs in our lives?

Consider this question: what do you seek as you go about your day? And where are you seeking it? Because the more I thought about this question this week, the more I’m convinced that we find what we’re looking for.

Typically, I try to look for the good in people. I consider what people might be going through – that I have no clue about – as they go through their days. I notice the hellos and chit chat on my morning walks, I notice the tired eyes, yet friendly welcome from the clerks at the grocery store, I think about the mother with three kids at Target and flash her what I hope is a supportive smile, knowing how trying that can be. If someone cuts me off in traffic, I try to give them the benefit of the doubt, pondering why they might be in such a hurry and hope all is well… I’ve certainly raced across town a time or two and maybe not always been the best driver. We all need to be cut some slack sometimes.

But if I’ve had a bad day, if I’m frustrated and have a short fuse, this kindlier perspective can go right out the window. Facing this tomb of my negative attitude, I find more things to be negative about. I don’t feel like a superficial chat with the neighbor and barely wave hello; I tap my foot and grit my teeth at the really slow grocery clerk who should be put on a different job so they don’t hold people up, I roll my eyes at the mother who can’t seem to control her kids and I spout four letter words at the driver that just cut me off.

I find what I’m looking for.

For about the first 10 years of ministry my main message was probably: you are enough. Why? Because I’d never felt like I was enough – good enough, pretty enough, smart enough, talented enough, you-name-it enough. And I’d filter my experiences through this colored lens of not good enough. If someone walked out of church, I’d wonder what I’d done to offend them. If people didn’t say anything nice about my message, I’d assume it was awful. Standing at the tomb of not-good-enough, that was all I saw everywhere I looked, even if I had to twist circumstances so that I found it.

All of this to say that Easter is about looking for resurrection in our own lives and the more we look for it, the more we find it. The spirit goes before us and is ready to meet us everywhere with new life and new opportunities – and when we start watching for it, I believe we’ll actually find it.

Brother Lawrence is a well-known Carmelite monk who reminded people in his writings that every task, no matter how ordinary is an opportunity to draw near to God. Mirabai Starr, in Ordinary Mysticism, talks about Brother Lawrence’s story as one of brokenness. He was born into a poor family in 1614 and, having very few options for making his way in the world, enlisted in the army as a teenager. The war left him laden with unspeakable trauma (what we would today term PTSD) and a painful limp. He joined the Carmelite monastery in hopes that a life of prayer would alleviate some of his suffering. But from his mid-20s to his mid-30s he lived with constant depression, anxiety and a suicidal sense of despair.

Starr writes, “All that kept him alive was the memory of a leafless tree he saw one winter. He knew that soon new growth would sprout from its bare branches, and it would again burst into blossom and eventually bear fruit. This gave him hope that in the deepest darkness of our souls, we could trust that a season of renewal was coming.” Resurrection – so to speak – was possible. In his struggles, he started turning away from the tomb of depression and suicide toward Love in the midst of everyday life and centering himself there.

When Brother Lawrence was assigned to the kitchen – which he deeply disliked because he hated cooking and it was hard to stand for so long on his bum leg – he struggled to surrender to his situation. Yet, he still chose to try to seek God through everything he did whether it was stirring sauces, scrubbing pots, or serving bowls of soup to the other brothers. It didn’t come easily, but the more he sought the simple Presence of God in everything, the easier it became to find God in everything. People began to notice the difference in him – he was happier, kinder, listened more deeply.

Brother Lawrence found resurrection because he turned away from the tomb of his trauma and looked for it. He could have easily gone the other direction and buried himself in anger, shame, grief and the horrors of what he had witnessed and done in war. But, gratefully he chose the life-giving route and we have his beautiful wisdom and writings because of it.

Children are so much better at wonder and awe than we are, and so are better at seeing the sacred in everything around us. Carrie Newcomer tells a story about one fall when her daughter was around five-years-old and they went to a local nature preserve. Her little girl was chattering away non-stop, as she normally did, about anything and everything that crossed her mind - the trail, the dusty pebbles, a shiny bug, wondering if squirrels had names, how she’d tied her shoes all by herself, and what she’d had for breakfast. “Suddenly she stopped in her tracks, put a finger to her lips and then with great knowing whispered “Mommie listen.” They stood there together with leaves falling down all around them, listening to the sighing that a forest makes. She looked up at her with sincere wide-eyed wonder, “Listen, there are angels whispering in the branches. Mommie, do you hear them?” She nodded and said, “Yes honey, it’s a very soft sound, but I do.” They stood there for a very long time (especially for a five-year-old) listening and smiling and holding hands.

Have you ever listened to the sound of the angels whispering in the trees? Half the people I pass out walking on any given day have their ear buds in and are plugged into something else. If we want to know renewal, new life, resurrection and the Divine presence, it helps if we’re seeking it, then maybe we, too, will hear the angels whispering in the branches.

God has gone before us in the leaves rustling in the trees, in the cooking of a simple meal, or the cleaning up, in the dawn, in a phone call, in the rain or a tree. Transformation and new beginnings happen when we gain the courage to step out of our tombs - from that which is not serving us or filling our souls - and seek resurrection for our weary souls.

Happy Easter!

Kaye