Reflection on Resurrection Did the Sun come Up This Morning? By Victoria Safford The dead shall rise again. Have you seen the trees? Have you seen the maple buds? The magnolias, swelling? Poplars, the first lacy, pale spray across the shoulder of the hills? The forsythia (or as one child I know calls it, the three-sythia, the two-sythia), and those three small, flowering, perfect apple trees in the park, strong little trees begging children to climb them and get lost for a while in their magical, pink canopies? Is it safe, I wonder, to presume that we have all seen the deed resurrected? Can we presume, just quietly among us, this basic fact? Can we admit, however carefully at first, however foolish it may sound, that once or twice in our lives or perhaps over and over and tumbling over, we have seen events miraculous? Choose the words you will, whatever words you need. If miracle cloys, try unexpected. Surprising. Unanticipated. Lucky. That which has been given us, that second chance, that second wind, by the grace of God knows what. The dead shall rise again. We know, because we ve seen it. How do you plan a rebirth? I m not sure you do. You just stand in the darkness until you can t endure it any longer, and then you move forward until you re standing in the light. -Questlove After by Octavio Paz After chopping off all the arms that reached out to me; after boarding up all the windows and doors;
After filling all the pits with poisoned water, after building my house on the rock of no, inaccessible to flattery and fear; After cutting off my tongue and eating it; after hurling handfuls of silence and monosyllables of scorn at my loves; After forgetting my name; and the name of my birthplace; and the name of my race; After judging and sentencing myself to perpetual waiting and perpetual loneliness, I heard against the stones of my dungeon of syllogisms, the humid, tender, insistent onset of spring. Each night when I go to sleep, I die. And the next morning, when I awake, I am reborn. - Mohandus Gandhi Exultet for Easter Morning (selection) by Mark Belletini When some argue for heaven, And others argue for earth, For the life of me I cannot comprehend the Seriousness of the debate. After all, the heaven I see daily overhead Never argues with me. It just tumbles clouds through my eyes and yours And paints the horizon pink and orange Come evening or come morning. And the earth I walk never argues with me either. It mostly just explodes with buds and petals Like some out-of-control fountain. Heaven and earth remain silent even when people
Malign the ancient exclamation O God! By fusing it with violence and entitlement. But now, on this Easter day, everything grows Beyond words, beyond earth and heaven, into A necessary vision of harmony and peace for all Humankind who wish into life what is alive. River of Winged Dreams by Aberjhani The death of a dream can in fact serve as the vehicle that endows it with new form, with reinvigorated substance, a fresh flow of ideas, and splendidly revitalized color. In short, the power of a certain kind of dream is such that death need not indicate finality at all but rather signify a metaphysical and metaphorical leap forward. Ascension by Marti Keller Despite brown edges, We can count on the dogwood, Count on the azaleas, On irises and morning glories. They are our resurrection, Rising to meet the season, No matter how muddy or disconsolate. We can depend on their ascension, A private Easter Poking through the clay soil, Count on what s been planted To merit praise and glory, Hallelujah! Each bloom and tendril. Resurrection---the reversal of what was thought to be absolute. The turning of midnight into dawn, hatred into love, dying into living anew. -Molly Fumina
Gospel of Mark 16:1-8 When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb? When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you. So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. From Lit: A Memoir by Mary Karr If you live in the dark a long time and the sun comes out, you do not cross into it whistling. There is an initial uprush of relief at first, then for me, anyway a profound dislocation. My old assumptions about how the world works are buried, yet my new ones aren t operational. There s been a death of sorts, but without a few days in hell, no resurrection is possible. Prayer at Easter (For A.C.S.) by Clarke Wells Lord God of Easter and infrequent Spring, Thaw our wintry hearts. Announce the large covenant to deceitful lands, Drive the sweet liquor through our parched veins. Stir the vacant eyes with green explosions and gold
In azure sky. Smite the pall of death that hangs like desire, Lure us to fresh schemes of life. Rouse us from tiredness, self-pity, Whet us for use, Fire us with good passion, Rekindle thy Church. Restore in us the love of living, Bind us to fear and hope again. As we thank with brief thanksgiving Whatever odds may be, That life goes on living, That the dead rise up ever, That even the weariest river Winds back to springs under sea.