You Don’t Know There’s Resurrection without Looking in the Tomb
The Lenten journey has felt searingly poignant, timely and descriptive of the pain and anger we are living amidst. The story of Empire’s death-dealing and violence, and the hatred and anger it calls forth in us is both old and new.
But ours is a tradition that teaches that the story does not end at the foot of the cross. Ours is a faith that proclaims that, while Empire may seek to crush, our God is a God who makes a way out of no way. Our God is a God who is always, constantly, persistently, subversively, blatantly making love and life and justice.
Hosanna as Pain, Hope and Power
Where Pilate seeks to communicate the power and violence of Empire, Jesus’ is a procession of peasants seeking to proclaim the kin-dom of God. And unlike the sounds of Empire—clanking metal, creaking leather—the sounds of Jesus’ procession of those marginalized by Empire are those of swishing palm branches (a symbol of their rural, poor roots) and the crying of Hosanna, Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of God! Blessed is the coming kin-dom of our ancestor David! Hosanna in the highest heaven!
On Dreaming, Curiosity and Prophesying Amidst Valleys of Dry Bones
It seems to me it means now, as it did then, that prophesying is about claiming a future truth. It means dreaming and declaring a future hope here and now. It means embodying a deep curiosity for what sacred mystery might heal. It seems to be that prophesying is as grand as Emma Gonzalez’s words before thousands; and as clear as Yara Allen’s singing and walking into waters-that-have-been-made violent borders; and as concrete as a friend who knows that sometimes only art and theoretical mathematics can begin to heal a broken heart.
Love Wins
The way I see it, God’s judgment isn’t judgment as a verb, it’s a noun. It’s saying that this is the way the world is. And if there is any “condemnation” at all, it is only when we “condemn” ourselves by separating ourselves from God’s unconditional love, because we forget, in the words of the poet John O’Donohue, to “view ourselves with the same delight that God sees us.” It’s much easier to believe that we are inherently unworthy, and to feel shame and guilt, than to believe that we are a reflection of God’s light. That’s why we run from the light – and hide in the darkness.