Easter

Sunday was Easter

Oops.......

So does anyone else stumble over the Resurrection? I mean, it isn't something that's part of our experience, is it? Yes, sure, we can see it metaphorically: "This new job really makes me feel like a new person." "My cancer is cured, I have a whole new chance at life." "I see everything in a new way now."

But it seems to me the writers of the Gospel went out of their way to describe a bodily resurrection. Jesus walks, talks, eats, and invites people to poke their fingers in his execution wounds. I don't think the writers wanted us to imagine it symbolically. They clearly meant us to believe that Jesus was dead 3 days, then rose again. So what are we to do with this in our rational, post-modern world?

I'm not prepared to say Impossible-Can't Be-No Way. After all, it wasn't that long ago you would have been burned at the stake for talking about reading this blog on that computer machine. But at the moment, resurrection is something that just doesn't seem possible to me, and I don't really want to just put it aside and accept it "on faith." I think that slips over too easily into magical thinking. For now, I'd rather stay open to possibilities, abide with not being able to figure it out, and say I just don't know.

I sure as heck hope there is resurrection, though. Today I met Rachel Corrie's father. Rachel was a 23-year old American writer who was in Gaza because she cared about what was going on there. In March, 2003, she stood in front of an Israeli bulldozer in hopes of stopping it from demolishing a Palestinian home. It didn't stop and it killed her. Her parents are here this week for the opening of a play about her. Her father told me he quit working after Rachel was killed ("How can you go back to work after someone bulldozes your daughter."). Now Rachel's parents tell her story and are trying to have her killing investigated, apparently with little success. I hope Rachel comes back to life for her family and friends. www.rachelcorriefoundation.org

I think of the young men I've met here. They're from the West Bank and are in Jerusalem illegally because they don't have permits, but they come here at risk of their lives to find work. They're like all young people. They have dreams. They want to have good work. They want to have families, to see Paris, to live rich full lives. I see their enthusiasm and between their broken English and my broken Arabic, hear their dreams. But their excited talk always fades out, knowing that none of this can happen because someone else has decided they are terrorists or militants or security threats and has forecast their futures for them. And so they live stunted lives that feel like death. I hope these young men will rise from the dead, too.

I hope it's true that The Lord is Risen! He is Risen, Indeed!