“Practicing resurrection” amid the oil spill (or any other time you need it)
Sunday, June 6th, 2010Shortly after Easter, the Episcopal bishop of Mississippi wrote of the “spiritual discipline” of “practicing resurrection,” which he noted “often must begin with a choice”—a choice to live in the real hope of resurrection instead of letting ourselves become bogged down in the pain & destruction all around us.
I think the ability to do this—to use our imaginations to take us to places of hope when otherwise there may seem to be no hope—is a gift the Creator gave us very deliberately! That is, he or she knows we need it, & means for us to use it!
But this choosing to set our minds in the realm of joy & hope for the next life is one of those spiritual practices that we in our human nature are inclined to do just about anything else under the sun instead of. Just like Adam & Eve, we prefer to use our own power to try to make things right—or at least to register our complaints that things aren’t right—rather than relying on God’s promises.
The poor are in a different category. The reason it says Jesus proclaimed the good news of salvation to them is, I think, because they’re the only ones who are normally interested in listening to it. The rest of us are too busy not only trying to control events by our own power but also chasing happiness (or at least diversion from our despair) by other means.
Mary Oliver’s poem “Spring Azures” shows why the poor are closer than the rest of us to hearing the message of salvation. Young Blake, “in the dirt and sweat of London,” sees “the bobbin of God’s blue body” on the sooty windowsill as he stares out into the darkness. Though he’s terrified, he at that moment turns away from the filth & destruction “to a life of the imagination.” He knows it’s his only way out.
I’m wondering if the oil spill might be the perfect state of affairs to get those of us whose situations are less dire than Blake’s into the habit of practicing resurrection. The gushing well, the growing slick, & the oil making its way to the marshes & beaches may be destructive & dirty & relentless enough to where the only way we can get even momentary peace of mind is to take ourselves out of this world entirely by dwelling in the new world promised by God.
In addition to making this conscious choice to think in resurrection terms, another way we can find joy is by taking on the role Jesus ascribed to us in the Beatitudes, as providers of mercy and peace to the poor and meek, like Blake. Thus we can practice resurrection both by looking to the next life and by spreading the kingdom of God on earth. (Praise be!)
If you have a hard time imagining the joy God’s got in store for us, just think of the most deeply joyful you’ve ever felt, and it’ll be like that, except even better and much more enduring.
If you think you haven’t felt any joy, think again—of things like the joy of music, or the joy you felt when you did something remarkable as a kid, or maybe when you simply did something that pleased a parent or other loved one. Or maybe the birth of your child. Or maybe community activities that made you feel uplifted because you knew you were serving the greater good. Or maybe some experience of the wonders of creation.
All these hints of heaven are, in my view, not only evidence of what it’s like but proof that it and God do exist! How else to explain the beauty and order and the deep connection we feel to the objects of joy?
God be with you as you practice resurrection!
