As a somewhat anxious traveler,
over the years I have developed certain patterns
to alleviate my angst
especially when flying the not always friendly skies.
Some of these strategies are well known anxiety suppressants
like finding a reliable parking venue with timely shuttles;
getting to the airport what friends characterize as crazy early;
enrolling in Precheck and Trusted traveler programs;
and checking-in online as early as possible
while praying for an upgrade.
Admittedly, one of my more idiosyncratic tactics
is avoiding full-length movies especially on domestic flights.
Too often when I finally find a film
not marked with violence or populated with superheroes
and eventually settle in,
the captain inevitably announces that we are about to land
and I miss out on the movie’s ending
which is not good for my blood pressure.
John’s gospel today as actually quite cinegraphic
as characters sprint back and forth to an empty tomb
exhibit sky-high emotions from shock to fear,
breathlessly building to that final plot twist
with gardeners and mistaken identity
grieving disciples and an untouchable figure,
finally resolving in a dramatic shot of the risen Christ
exploding onto the screen in the final frame.
The only problem, of course, is that the leading man never appears,
and like so many interrupted airplane movies,
this gospel reel lacks a satisfying ending,
lacks any resolution to the running, shock and bewilderment.
Equally stunning is that when we return next Sunday,
hoping for a redeeming resolution,
the lectionary editors have leapfrogged over 8 key verses,
erasing Mary Magdalene in her own leading role
as the first to encounter the risen Lord;
and instead cut to a completely different subplot
featuring scaredy-cat disciples,
one doubting Thomas,
and that eternally memorable finger-poking scene.
It is no spoiler to reveal that Mary Magdalene does return,
does encounter the gardener unmasked as the Christ,
and triumphs as the first human being to announce
the resurrection to huddling disciples.
But that gospel reel is delayed until this coming Tuesday,
making me wonder whether the current lectionary
needs the magic of one of those legendary script doctors.
The stunning incompleteness of today’s Easter readings
with no first-person appearance of the resurrected Christ
pushes preachers to scramble for some credible way to explain
this gaping lectionary hole and that puzzling empty tomb.
Like many, I have been following the deportation story
of Mr. Abrego Garcia, a legal US resident
protected by court order from deportation, but nonetheless
arrested with his autistic 5 year old son in the back seat of his car
and then shipped off to a notorious Salvadorean prison.
Amid all the reporting on this injustice,
one legal maxim rang out in this news frenzy:
justice delayed is justice denied.
Dating back centuries this juridical adage
encapsulates a kernel of enduring wisdom,
that prolonging the timely resolution of any accusation
undercuts the promise of justice itself.
It may seem odd to invoke some legal maxim
when contemplating this Easter mystery,
but as citizens living in a democracy,
whose personification of our legal system
is a blindfolded Lady Justice holding balanced scales
symbolizing impartiality and fairness,
we not surprisingly expect – even demand
a fair God, who conforms to our ideals
of fairness, impartiality and justice.
So when my sainted grandfather listened to radio broadcasts
of Notre Dame games, rosary beads in hand,
he fervently believed that a Hail Mary
was not just an offensive strategy
but a spiritual power to influence the game’s outcome.
More pointedly, when the newly married receive a cancer diagnosis,
the newborn enters life with a serious disabilities,
the young adult is tragically struck down by a drunk driver.
our life-long spouse develops dementia,
we direct prayer to a just God
who should roil up against such villainy
and remedy the situation without delay.
Or, in the frame of today’s feast,
a just God who should engineer resurrection now!
So, to paraphrase, is a divine answer delayed
fundamentally a divine answer rebuffed?
Is Mary Magdalene delayed Mary Magdalene repudiated?
And, ultimately, is the absence of resurrection on demand
the same as resurrection denied?
Finding my next audible is a painstaking process for me.
And out of disappointment I return at least 20% of them:
please don’t tell Jeff Bezos.
Recently I have been casting around for great new novel;
important because when you’ve listened to Martyr, Beautyland,
Bewilderment and Remarkably Bright Creatures,
it’s unfair to subject your headphones to mediocre prose.
It took a week of comparing best fiction lists
and listening to dozens of audio previews
before I came across a four minute sampling of Chris Witaker’s
All of the Colors of the Dark:
I was hooked instantaneously.
It is difficult to characterize this 600+ page novel:
a missing person mystery, a serial killer thriller,
a coming of age saga and an epic love story,
each of which is its own roller coaster ride.
The pivotal chapter upon which the rest of the novel hinges
occurs quite early – chapter 4 out of 261 –
when the 13 year old hero “Patch,” born with only one eye,
is kidnapped and held in total darkness for 10 months.
It is in the dark that he meets his own kind of savior
a young woman … a voice … a touch
or was she just a figment of his imagination
the result of sensory deprivation, or malnutrition or PTSD?
Spoiler alert: if you don’t want to hear about Patch’s rising
insert fingers or earbuds in your ears now.
Since I tend to theologize about almost everything
including most movies I see and novels I read,
Patch’s entombment, which lasted 10 months,
followed by rescues and disappointments,
loves and losses,
dashed hopes and stunning rebirths …
is only resolved after 13 years
literally twice a lifetime for young Patch.
It is a resurrection undoubtedly delayed,
but decidedly not denied as it does happen
with terrible beauty.
Unlike Patch and the other characters in All the Colors of the Dark,
our lives are not fiction … but each is a kind of domestic movie,
from time to time even exploding
into a cinematic joy or unimaginable tragedy.
We are not ordinarily running back and forth to tombs,
but only to soccer practice and the vet,
grocery stories and the bank,
nursing homes, Sunday Mass, and the job.
But our physical and spiritual sprinting back and forth,
requires – often unexpectedly – that we confront empty tombs,
unresolved conflicts,
shattered relationships,
fraying faith,
and deep grieving
that make us wonder if reconciliation will ever occur,
if a resolution will finally emerge,
or if resurrection delayed is actually resurrection denied.
The poet reminds us that every road to resurrection
runs through a cemetery.
Yet no matter how many empty tombs confront us,
we baptized are assured that day that none of us
are permanently stalled in any cemetery,
but in faith recognize that tomb-lingering
is always a preamble to resurrection.
A great privilege of teaching
is encountering amazing students
who change your life and renew your faith.
Years ago I was honored to mentor a young seminarian
whom his formation directors frequently disparaged …
even determined to short circuit his seminary education,
concerned he had no future as a leader.
As a sometimes belligerent mentor, I with others
not so eloquently confronted them, and they quickly relented.
The next day, this purportedly dismal prospect
was elected president of the graduate student association.
BAZINGA: immediate and well savored resurrection.
While his ministerial life continued to blossom
his personal-family life not always did.
Kevin was the youngest of 12 children
with an almost 10 year gap
between himself and his next sibling.
He was 14 when he decided to enter the seminary.
At the same time his mother began to develop dementia.
Kevin often wondered if his leaving home
was a contributing factor to his mother’s mental demise.
When she eventually died, Kevin said that he lost her twice:
once when she lost her mental life,
and again when she lost her physical life.
Burying her twice was incredibly difficult.
At the funeral, an old friend of his mother’s told Kevin
that he was always his mother’s favorite.
As one of 12 Kevin deflected, recalling that both of his parents
consistently affirmed they loved all their children equally.
The maternal friend pushed back,
reporting that at the end of her childbearing years
his mother wanted one more child just for her,
to savor through a whole childhood
without the interruption of another pregnancy.
A certainly delayed, but not denied emotional
and familial resurrection for him
and for all who shared this tale of an unexpected gift.
[Here, musicians begin playing
Rory Cooney’s “Do not Fear to Hope”]
In his reflection on hope, poet and politician Vaclav Havel wrote:
“Either we have hope within us or we don’t.
It is a dimension of the soul …
not particularly dependent
On some observation of the world.
It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart.
Hope, in this deep and powerful sense is not the same as joy
that things are going well … but rather
an ability to work for something because it is good
not because it stands a chance to succeed.
Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism.
…. not the conviction that something will turn out well,
but the certainty that something makes sense
regardless of how it turns out.
It is hope above all which gives us the strength to Live …
the gift you don’t have to surrender
the power you don’t have to throw away.” [punctuation in quotation is added]
In the crucible of this Easter,
in the cemetery roads that crisscross our lives
no matter how delayed resurrection may seem in our lives,
We join with deep faith this morning,
firmly believing that we are not forever stalled
on some cemetery road,
But decidedly traveling the resurrection highway
As we dare to hope, and hope boldly,
through Christ our Lord.
The image of Rory Cooney’s Do not Fear to Hope, with modifications, is used with permission.
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