Easter:
Alleluia At Easter, we celebrate the light that shines in the darkest
corners
A mythic folktale from Madagascar explains how both death and
children came into the world. In the story, the first woman and the first man
were asked by the Creators what they preferred in the way of death. The primal
couple responded that they would like to avoid it altogether. The goddesses and
gods replied that was impossible, that life was necessarily fatal, but that
they could come back either as the moon does, disappearing then re-emerging, or
as the banana tree does, sending out shoots that become other new banana
trees.
First woman and man pondered, then discussed. They realized that
if they came back as the moon did, leaving the sky dark for a while then
returning, they would always just be themselves, repeating themselves over and
over. But if they came back like the banana tree, then the world would always
be fresh and different. And they wouldnt be alone; there would be
children.
When informed of their choice, the deities responded: Now
that you have chosen it, you are already beginning to die. But as first
woman and man grew and flourished while at the same time walking toward death,
they kept close to themselves the idea that they would be leaving children
behind. Thats how children came into the world.
If ever there was a sign of resurrection in our midst, its
the bright promise of children, perennial gifts to us from our God, who St.
Augustine called the ever Ancient, the ever New. Medieval mystic
Meister Eckhart called God novissimus! -- the newest thing there is!
Ours is truly a resurrection religion. We believe the light of
Christ shines even into the darkest corners, that new life always follows any
death.
To celebrate Easter this year, NCR asked children from
St. Marys Academy in Denver to draw resurrection pictures, which we
display on the cover and on pages 13 to 16.
We also asked people across the country this question:
We have been bombarded with images of death in the past
year, especially in the months following the Sept. 11 attacks and the ongoing
war in Afghanistan. What is for you an image, moment or instance of
resurrection that has occurred during the past year?
Light a candle and read their responses.
-- Rich Heffern
Catherine Browning
When the tide rolls out and the full wetness of marine baptism
suddenly withdraws, unsightly mudflats are exposed near the place where I live.
Blatant barrenness squelches romantic notions held at sunset. Slimy gook
repulses joy for living. Stench forces you to think of fleeing from these
lands. But just as you are ready to walk away, just as you are ready to call it
quits, the universe surprises you with a blessing. Suddenly, out of nowhere,
hundreds of pink flamingos arrive on the scene. Sinking their delicate selves
into brown gook, these otherworldly beings transmute ugliness into beauty.
Perched upon single limbs, they balance gracefully like ballerinas atop dirty
junk piles. Leaning strangely toward the thick darkness, flamingos feast on
ambrosial treats, trusting the treasures contained within sludge. Flamboyant
wings reach high into the air revealing spectacular orange, pink and black
undersides. Wow! Only the universe could fashion a phenomenal moment such as
this. Only the universe could turn a muddy day into an unexpected colorful
ballet. Flamingos in the mudflats, they are a powerful metaphor for life: Be
patient. Dont judge too harshly for things are not always as they seem.
Stay with the resistance. Trust that a new form will emerge from the debris.
Remember, the Creator creates best out of what seems like nothing.
Catherine Browning lives in Kuwait.
Tom Beaudoin
As if the furious impact of those planes not only broke the backs
of the twin towers, but blew into the atmosphere an unholy cloud of fracture,
corrosion, decay and death. As if that infected air calmly enveloped my life.
As if, when my life imploded last October into a wordless stack of rubble, this
was somehow an aftershock five weeks deferred. I will always be tempted to feel
the loss I endured last fall against the amputated horizon of dust-covered
Manhattan. As if one Armageddon-ish implosion summoned a hundred thousand human
relationships to decision: dig in or make a run for it, reinforce the building
or raze everything.
Six months later and I am in South Carolina, standing at midnight
facing the Atlantic, borne up before the oceans majestic inevitability.
The infinite gives itself in this milky, unmasterable churn. Behold, I
make all things new.
Tom Beaudoin is adjunct professor of theology, Boston College,
and author of Virtual Faith: The Irreverent Spiritual Quest of Generation
X.
Joseph A. Brown
Schoolchildren, here and elsewhere, finding ways to connect with
the victims of New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. Cookie sales, car washes
and other fund raisers. Questions in classrooms and churches. And learning
opportunities where they are finding out who and where Afghanistan is, who and
why the Muslims are, and so on. I have always believed that our hope resides in
the questions we ask. Since Sept. 11, the people who surround me have prayed
for healing and asked questions that keep their minds and hearts open.
Jesuit Fr. Joseph A. Brown is director of Black American
Studies at Southern Illinois University.
Mary Vineyard
Jesus resurrection is a window on the nature of reality,
allowing us to see that life and death coexist in everything, and yet all is
held within a divine container that transcends what we know as life and death.
In the world and in the lives of countless people I know, I am seeing
unbearable suffering and hopeless situations. And yet I keep vigil for the
resurrection that can happen in any moment. I usually encounter it, not in
dramatic events but in small things: the fact that most of us do get up every
day and keep trying; the many ways people attempt to be kind to each other; the
arguments that end in forgiveness, reconciliation and new understanding; the
acts of courage whereby truth is lovingly spoken in the face of oppression; the
times when a fiercely entrenched attitude suddenly shifts. To live inside
resurrection is to have a faith that looks beyond the surface evidence and
inspires actions that flow from and encourage love rather than fear.
Mary Vineyard is a massage therapist living in Downeast,
Maine.
Ashle Robinson
An instance of resurrection that means something to me is the
hope, courage and strength that everybody has inside of them. After the
attacks, people all over the United States were making some kind of symbol to
represent the American flag. That courage they had to go on and try to make
others feel better really made me feel better. The hope that people had inside
themselves to try to make the next day the same as the days before the
terrorist attack was really amazing.
After the terrorist attacks, there was a change in the way people
treated each other. We suddenly acted kinder toward one another. This
represented our strength. This meant that even after the attack the United
States wouldnt be the same, but we will have more faith and hope in our
country. Even after lives were taken and hearts were broken, America will stand
tall. The American flag represents us all, so we will stand as one.
Ashle Robinson is a sixth grade student at St. Sabina Academy
in Chicago.
Philip St. Romain
The images of resurrection most related to the events of Sept. 11
that have stayed with me are the expressions of joy in the people of Kabul when
they realized that the Taliban was gone. Simple pleasures like listening to
music, shaving an uncomfortable beard and walking around without veiling
ones face became theirs again. Their lives are still far from settled and
at peace, but the reclaiming of those ordinary experiences of freedom gave
testimony to the enormous potential for finding God in the simple things of
life.
Philip St. Romain is an author and spiritual director who lives
in Wichita, Kan.
Wayne Teasdale
Amidst the violence and death we have witnessed, and the dark
night of the churchs agony over the brokenness of some of her ministers,
there is an irrepressible hope bursting forth like the vital energy of a
seedling breaking through the pavement of a city street. Or the quiet bond of
innocent love expressed so naturally between a 7-year-old boy for his
5-year-old sister (and vice versa) in the Iranian film Children of
Heaven. Another instance, for me, personally, is the return from the
valley of the shadow of death when I had had a bout with cancer. I feel these
are each instances or epiphanies of resurrection.
Wayne Teasdale is a lay monk who teaches at Catholic
Theological Union, Chicago.
William Cleary
Faithful, an evergreen spruce about the size of a man, stands
shivering all winter next to the frozen birdbath just outside the double glass
doors in our living room. This week, sheltering the robins of spring as they
wait their turn to tiptoe through the melting ice, Faithful suddenly has its
towering top shoot bulging with sprouts left and right, and on top a triple bud
grinning at the sky. Earths very life force is resurrecting, pushing from
below, forcing upward fresh juices, fresh colors, fresh air-giving emerald
needles, all because -- as Hopkins said -- the Holy Ghost over the bent
world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings. Hope reigns.
William Cleary is author of How The Wild Things Pray
(Forest of Peace).
K. Lauren de Boer
Many people have been jolted from a collective numbness into
turning toward each other. The uncertainty and fear of the last year have
become the food and fodder for the budding growth of circles of people all
over: wisdom circles, community circles, circles for spiritual activism.
Whatever they are called, these circles are cells of hope rising amidst
despair. They are engaging people in an inquiry into the deeper questions of
our time. The hope is that collectively these cells will help transform a
moment of violence into energy for change.
This quote from physicist Brian Swimme expresses the essence of
the Easter message: Plunge into the work of living as surprise becomes
aware of itself. You are the essence of surprise, the heart and core of play.
Show yourself as truly as you can, and you will in that moment shine with the
freedom, frolic and fecundity of creative play.
K. Lauren de Boer is executive editor of Earthlight
magazine.
Ashley Merryman
I run a tutoring program for inner-city kids based out of my Los
Angeles parish. On Halloween, we gave each child a bag of candy. When a tiny
kindergarten child about the size of his bag of treats received it, he was so
thrilled that for the next 10 minutes he was bouncing up and down with glee,
showing everyone the unexpected surprise. He wasnt even aware he was
doing it. Lately, Ive been thinking more and more about
resurrection as being not some transformative event, but an ongoing
process that is painful, messy and drawn-out. Even Jesus went to Hell and back
for his. So why would that childs hopping up and down be my image of
resurrection? Hes a child; hes not dead. There was no
transformation; if you give him candy today, hell still have the same
reaction. (Trust me, we gave him cookies for St. Patricks Day.) I just
kept coming back to that ecstatic look on his face. And that was my answer:
joy. If theres a true resurrection, theres joy. Joy that cannot be
contained or restrained. Joy that overtakes you, body, mind and spirit.
Ashley Merryman is a writer and attorney in Los
Angeles.
Gertrud Mueller Nelson
Death and life are sisters at the deepest level. How do we know
this? How can we get that message into our bones? Only in flashes of grace,
moments of experience that plant us firmly with one foot on either side of the
paradox. A grace that came to my family recently was to pray with our mother as
she died. To see the one who bore us, laid out in her simple box, wearing the
white garment of baptism, barefoot, surrounded by evergreen boughs and a few
lilies. We planted her, personally, in the good earth knowing that unless a
grain of wheat die, it could not bring new life. She was one who showed many
how to live and how to die. She walked in faith, and struggled in faith,
created and loved in faith and died faithful to the good news to the end. Did
she also see and feel the horrors going on around her? Oh yes. Her faith in
turn had a radiating quality that shed light, comforted, refreshed, brought
solace, healed, renewed, all with the energy of the Holy Spirit. And finally,
the Spirit led her to the joys that never end.
Now the gospel tells me that its my work to stand by and
water the planted grains and take part, with Gods grace, in the
resurrection of new life. As a people our job is the same. What must die,
peacefully or violently, must also bring forth new life. And we get to help
heaven in that task.
Gertrud Mueller Nelson is a liturgist and writer who lives in
Southern California.
Robert Durback
I was seated on a flight from Seattle to Detroit, on my way home
from a cruise tour of Alaska, 10 days after Sept. 11. I had slipped into my
carry-on a copy of Beldan Lanes book, The Solace of Fierce Landscapes.
Still reeling from the unfolding reports of the fateful days past, my eyes
fastened on these words in Lanes book: In the beginning you weep.
The starting point for many things is grief, at the place where endings seem so
absolute. One would think it should be otherwise, but the pain of closing is
antecedent to every new opening in our lives. With these words, born of
his grief in watching his mother wilt away in a hospital bed, Lane redefined
for me the meaning of the losses in my life. And possibly the losses of a whole
nation.
Robert Durback lives in Cleveland, Ohio.
Briana Caldwell
A moment of resurrection that occurred during the past year was
the World Trade Center flag being brought out at the Olympic Games. There was a
lot of commotion going on that day, and the flag was still standing. For God to
leave that standing, its a sign that America will be just fine. Another
moment was when I went to the movies. I thought I heard someone say, God
bless America. That same day the words God bless America were
on every fast food sign and other displays. These signs made me feel as if God
was on our side and wouldnt let anything happen to America. In John 3:16,
For God so loved the world that he gave his only son, that whoever
believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. That scripture
assured me that things would be OK.
Briana Caldwell is a sixth grade student at St. Sabina Academy
in Chicago.
Maryanne Hannan
Exactly one week after the terrible events of Sept. 11, our family
experienced another loss, the death of a beloved family member from cancer.
Standing at his gravesite and watching his wife receive the folded flag in
honor of his service in Vietnam, I trembled at the excruciating toll exacted by
war and intolerance, generation after generation. Then two birds glided
overhead in unison, with much the same freedom and panache my brother-in-law, a
graceful dancer, had. At that moment, in the beautiful September sunshine, I
had a blessed glimpse that someday our tears would be turned into laughter.
Maryanne Hannan is a poet and writer living in upstate New
York.
Janice Sevre-Duszynska
My image of resurrection occurred at the closing liturgy of our
Womens Ordination Worldwide conference in Dublin, Ireland, last July.
Along with many other priestly women from around the world, I wore a purple
stole as a symbol of our movement. We began the liturgy with our stoles wrapped
around our mouths and necks. Then we threw the purple stole from across our
mouths as a sign of being released from the male hierarchys binding and
silencing of womens priestly gifts.
Janice Sevre-Duszynska of Lexington, Ky., is an activist for
womens ordination.
Rob Johnson
Risen from Prison Risen from prison back
from the dead released convicts rejoin the living.
Alleluia!
Alleluia! They have returned! It is a miracle!
Every day A
Miracle
Our prodigal sons and
daughters return everyday,
From the Graveyards we call
prisons,
Each release a resurrection a quest
for grace,
For life to begin anew
Robert Johnson, professor and chair in the Department of
Justice, Law and Society at American University in Washington, lives in
Herndon, Va.
Lea Koesterer
I have become involved with the Immigrant and Refugee Womens
Program in St. Louis, teaching a young woman from Iraq to speak English. She
has a baby at home and doesnt get out. I feel its something I can
do. Even if one person can benefit from what I have to give, it gives me a
little more hope that if every person helps just one other person, it would
grow.
Images of death have always been with us, its nothing really
new. The young woman Im teaching just told me yesterday that two of her
children died. I dont know how yet because she doesnt have enough
English to tell me. If I can bring a little bit of hope and light in her life,
it makes me feel like Im doing my job.
The cataclysmic events of Sept. 11 crystallizes the idea that all
the little things we do have a consequence. Taken as a whole, other people form
this idea and opinion of us, and how we are perceived makes a big difference in
how people are going to react to us. This past year weve had the
realization that all is not well with the world and were partly the
reason for it. We have to be careful in what we say and what we do -- it all
adds up.
Little things are important. Its a mistake to assume that
what we do is inconsequential.
Artist Lea Koesterer of St. Louis is the creator of the
Visitation stained glass window, which appeared on
NCRs 2001 Christmas cover.
Joan Chittister
Last June I sat in the home of a traumatized Arab family on the
West Bank. Years before, the father, denied work in his homeland, had gone to
the oil fields of Saudi Arabia to earn enough to build a home for his growing
family. He returned to the West Bank, money in hand, and applied repeatedly
over the years for a permit to build on his land. The permit never came. He got
no answers at all. The application was simply ignored.
In desperation, he gave up trying to get a building permit and
built a home without it. The house was barely finished when the Israeli army
bulldozed the house into the ground.
A group called Rabbis for Peace joined the father and his Arab
neighbors to rebuild the home. The army bulldozed it again. The rabbis
surrounded the property and rebuilt the house a second time.
Now, the rabbis, the family -- including the mother who had
suffered a mental breakdown as a result of the violence -- and I and other
members of the International InterReligious Peace Council were sitting in the
bare little house. Together. All of us of one heart.
I knew without a doubt that I was seeing resurrection, that I was
in fact part of it and that no headline would ever make me forget the rabbis
who had risen above the political to the stature of the God of the Exodus.
Benedictine Sr. Joan Chittister, author and lecturer, lives in
Erie, Pa.
Marcia Figgs
An instance of resurrection that has occurred during the past year
is that America has come together. Every time I hear the song God Bless
America, I get emotional. Before Sept. 11, the guns, killing and drugs in
our community and everyone not loving each other was outrageous. Now the United
States of America has come together united and loving one another. Now you see
people wearing the colors of the flag. God has shown me that Sept. 11 was a
wakeup call for the United States of America. The United States is a country
that needs help. All of the killings and drug activity is not helping us. It is
killing us. The United States now realizes that no matter what we do,
everything is in the Lords hands. I was scared the day of the terrorist
attacks, but when I prayed to the Lord I knew everything was going to be all
right. Sept. 11 was tragic for all of us, but the United States of America will
stand strong, and we know that the battle is not ours; it is the
Lords.
Marcia Figgs is a sixth grade student at St. Sabina Academy in
Chicago.
Charleen Marie Pavlik
Wings As I walked around Manhattan in
mid-September to counseling appointments with people who had worked at the
World Trade Center, it was not the same.
It was quiet.
Except for
the occasional horn in semi-deserted streets, there was little else sounding
the soul of the city outdoors.
But there were birds.
Singing,
fluttering, cardinal, russet, indigo birds wings of hope not far from the
tomb. willowy song, sharp scat-jazzy song in a slivered, saddened
place. birds flitting ritual alive in the dawn beyond ancient and
postmodern executions
there are always angels hidden, graced power in
the soul but some days require simpler wings dancing on the
cross-winds, lifting Lazarus to a new nest on the edge of
Eden, blessed.
Franciscan Sr. Charleen Marie Pavlik lives in Fayette City,
Pa., and is founding partner of Angelspring Retreat and Wellness
Center.
Timothy J. Schmaltz
Recently my granddaughter, Kristin, was hospitalized with a severe
bout of the flu. It was scary for her parents. It was scary for all of us who
love this energetic whirlwind of a 2-year-old. Lying there in the big adult
hospital bed, she looked so small, so fragile and vulnerable.
A couple of days after Kristin had gotten out of the hospital and
recovered, my wife Linda and I were asked to watch her. Kristin was back to her
old self by then. She loves my home office and especially a small table where I
keep precious items of sacred memories. She particularly loves a toy given to
me many years ago by some colleagues. This toy is an executive
consultant that has a button that causes flashing reds lights and voices
funny phrases. She went and got that toy, jumped up on my lap, pushed the
button as she loves to do, and listened to the random phrase and laughed. She
did it again and again, laughing louder each time. And the louder she laughed,
the louder I laughed.
These moments are not just times of an old mans
sentimentality and love. We are not given these moments of resurrection for
ourselves alone. Former President Jimmy Carter tells a story that just when it
appeared the Camp David peace talks were failing, the three world leaders
happened to be together packing to leave when one of them began showing
pictures of his grandchildren, and then the others did the same. Looking at
those pictures, President Carter said they all recognized their work was not
done. They needed to return to the table for the sake of their children and
grandchildren to build peace for their countries.
Thats what small resurrections can do for us; restore our
hope and vision. They can tell us again that we must be sources of life for one
another, sources of justice and peace for the future. My moment of resurrection
with Kristin reminded me of the future we hold in our laps.
Timothy J. Schmaltz, director for Spirituality and Ministry in
the Marketplace, lives in Phoenix.
Kathy Coffey
One of my favorite little r resurrections occurs
daily. I go to bed feeling exhausted; my brain is clogged with details; my
creativity has fizzled. I have lost interest in any project Im doing, and
it takes enormous effort even to talk with my kids.
But a deep sleep restores all that seemed lost. The next morning,
Im ready to tackle the world! Bring on the problems -- Ive got the
chutzpah to handle them!
In December I spent the night at a local retreat house. Falling
asleep, I felt all my edges had dulled. Waking the next morning to snow that
had fallen overnight, I opened my laptop computer with zest and plunged
joyfully into some writing that had languished.
Maybe it has something to do with a little jolt of caffeine, but I
think its more. I suspect that in the morning, the Spirit is stirring,
saying, All is not lost. God who protected your sleep now brings you into
daylight, into renewed energy, into work and relationship. Jesus who awakened
Lazarus now calls you to arise. Maybe the final resurrection will have a
little taste of this one.
Kathy Coffey works as an editor in Denver, Colo., and is the
author of Dancing in the Margins: Meditations for People Who Struggle with
their Churches.
Fred West Jr.
An instance of resurrection that has occurred in the past year is
an understanding that no matter what, I will always be an American. On Sept.
11, America became silent. I prayed that we should be proud and positive about
the situation. Americans need to stick their chests out, be proud and fight for
what is right. Im not afraid anymore. I feel more like myself again.
Thanks to God I am proud to be an American.
Fred West Jr. is a sixth grade student at St. Sabina Academy in
Chicago.
Conrado Beloso
I find images of resurrection in the parishioners of Sacred Heart.
They offer me uplifting graces through their faith, hard work and
generosity.
Take this one, for example: For years Sacred Hearts rectory
and hall needed repairs. But every plan to renovate had to be shelved because
of lack of funds, and because I thought the parish was not ready for it. I
reasoned that if the priest whom I replaced was able to endure the
rectorys dark, depressing walls and its label as the bowling alley
of the diocese for 13 years, I could also endure it. I underestimated the
parishioners ability to do something about it.
When I attended the priests study days in Kelowna, British
Columbia, last October, Cheryl Card and Charlene Collison, both parish council
members, convened a group of parishioners and came up with a very good plan
that soon caught the interest of the whole parish. The bishop of Nelson
approved it and endorsed the application for a loan at Catholic Missions in
Canada. Catholic Missions approved a loan of $50,000 and as a bonus gave a
grant of $25,000. The parish was able to raise almost $20,000 on its own, and
was able to attract volunteer work so easily. Now I have a brand new
rectory.
Thus, what I want to say is this: Lay women-led initiatives are
instances of resurrection in the parish.
Fr. Conrado Beloso is originally from the Philippines. In 1998
he came to British Columbia to work as a priest.
Philip Berrigan
The Lords resurrection was proof that life will triumph in
the end -- life over death. Any testimony along those lines is resurrection. I
find it most pertinent in a couple of areas: first of all living with people
who are devoted to life and who are willing to risk for life, and secondly
civil resistance which is always a testimony to the resurrection of Christ,
because its a testimony against death and for life.
Philip Berrigan lives in Jonah House, a resistance
community in Baltimore.
Elizabeth McAlister
Life is returning to all of nature, and people are trying.
Were going to a Faith and Resistance retreat with a bunch of college kids
who could be off doing whatever during Holy Week, and theyre trying real
hard.
Theres a promise of life, and I believe it. They cant
touch it. They try, but they cant. Its going to happen.
Elizabeth McAlister lives in Jonah House in Baltimore.
Erik Mansager
Jamie was 4 and a half when he arrived at our crisis shelter. He
was the big brother, and came in the company of his two younger half-sisters, 3
and 1. Jamie was dropped off by the police who had pulled him from under the
unconscious body of his mother. Her body was so badly bruised and swollen from
a beating by the half-sisters father that by the time the police
responded to a neighbors 911 call, they were unable to determine if she
were Anglo- or African-American. While our nurses completed enough of the
boys intake physical exam to learn that he was not suffering any bruises,
breaks or abrasions, it was quite understandable that Jamie refused to sleep
without his sisters and refused to be bathed or to wear the new set of clothes
we provided. It was several days before Jamie could be coaxed, with the help of
his favorite ice cream, to try at least a sponge bath and the new clothes.
If that was the not-so-Good Friday experience for our staff, we
all experienced a little but very real bit of Easter Sunday when seven months
later, a capable and feisty young 5-year-old was offered the carton of his
favorite ice cream at his farewell party. He said softly, clearly, without a
hint of pathos, You better keep some handy, in case somebody else is
going to need it.
Erik Mansager is the residential director of Casa de los
Niños in Tucson, a child crisis shelter.
Roy Bourgeois
[On the large numbers of students that turn out for talks about
the U.S. Army School of the Americas]: Their response is one of compassion, one
of really questioning U.S. foreign policy, some for the first time. Their
response for me is resurrection. Its solidarity with the suffering poor.
Its trying to get on this road to peacemaking. I see resurrection for me
as this life-giving force happening on college campuses. Ive come to see
that as a sacred moment, a resurrection moment that brings us deeper into the
struggle.
Maryknoll Fr. Roy Bourgeois is founder of School of the
Americas Watch.
National Catholic Reporter, March 29,
2002
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