2018-04-10
Brooke Strong
Scripture: John 20:19-31
As most of you probably know, I was away on sabbatical and vacation for most of Lent. I left on February 19th and got back a week ago Wednesday, just in time for holy week and Easter preparations and celebrations. Although the time away did not turn out to be exactly what I had planned, it was a renewing, refreshing, revitalizing time for me, and I am so grateful to this church community for having given me that gift. You may recall my sharing before I left that I planned to spend time in Arizona to connect with friends and to enjoy some warmth there. Another goal of mine was to walk labyrinths in various states, sowing seeds of prayerful peace in my wake as I traveled. There was only one thing that got in the way of some of my goals and plans – one thing that thwarted me more than once – one thing that I could not do anything about – but that I hope soon, very soon, will go down in defeat. That one thing that I am referring to is: Winter!
Is anyone here as tired of winter weather as I am? I even went to Arizona to get away from it, and ended up hearing so many apologies from people: “It’s unseasonably cold – we feel so bad.” “It’s never like this – we’re so sorry.” As if they were somehow responsible for the fact that, among other things, 3 of the days there that I actually woke up to ice and snow on my car! And – just a useful bit of information for any of you who might ever rent a car a in Arizona – they do not come with snow brushes – so you may want to bring your own. I did, however, end up having one day out of ten when I was actually able to wear open-toed sandals.
And when I came back to Ohio, my plan was to head straight from the airport out to Toledo to meet my husband who was there. When the plane landed, I checked my phone to find a text from him saying – You cannot drive out to Toledo. There’s a huge snowstorm. Cars are off the road all over the place. And later, they actually closed the turnpike. OK then – plans thwarted again.
Two weeks ago I drove from Poughkeepsie, New York to Massachusetts detouring through Rhode Island so I could walk a labyrinth in that state. I went to two churches which both had labyrinths on their properties, but looking out in all directions, all I saw was snow. I decided to forgo my planned drive a few days later to New Hampshire after corresponding with churches who told me their labyrinths were also buried under 18 inches of the white stuff.
So – Winter was able to kill some of my best-laid plans, but I was not about to let it kill my soul. The time I was off, the time away was a time when I could reconnect and re-center, rekindling my spirit. I have to agree with Lauren Artress, who in her book about labyrinths writes: “Unless you can create an inner sanctuary, a special chamber within, where you can be with yourself, slow things down, and direct your thoughts toward what nourishes you in body, mind and Spirit, you will be starving for meaning and purpose in your life.”1 So although outside the weather was cold, my inner soul had a chance to warm to its core.
Winter can arrive and settle-in seemingly forever in our natural world, but it can also take up residence in our souls. What those disciples felt on Easter morning, before an encounter with Jesus, is certainly something we might call a winter of the soul. They were dismal, desolate and depressed. Their beloved friend, teacher, leader had been brutally crucified right before their eyes. They were left with huge doubts about what to believe, with looming questions about the future, and with profound anxiety and fright that they might meet the same fate as Jesus if they continued to carry on his mission. Everything about their world was cold, barren, dark and dead.
And so I can just picture them huddling close, hunkering down in that upper room and shivering with fright. And then, in the midst of this hopelessness, of this emptiness, of this fear, Jesus appears. Totally unexpectedly, through locked doors, he enters in and greets them with words of peace and the breath of forgiveness. His spirit, his love and grace are the transforming energy that brings his followers back from the brink. The winter cold within them thaws, and their bodies throb with new energy. Their hearts begin to burn with love, their hopes and dreams, their very souls, are brought back to life.
It is no coincidence that Easter is celebrated in the spring. The very heart of the resurrection story is so beautifully lived out in our natural world at this time of year. The Reverend Molly Baskette – in one of her stillspeaking devotionals says:
I remember the first time I realized, about 32 winters in, that the trees where I lived in New England lacked foliage fully six months out of every year. For half of my life, I had been walking around in a Spartan moonscape. What a recipe for depression! And yet, every spring, over several magical days, nature delivered on her promise to move the dial from "apparently dead" to "most certainly alive." Forsythia arrived on the scene like so many jazz hands. Fetal maple leaves emerged damp and exhausted from twig-ends.
The most wondrous part of the blossoming is that new life emerged from such a sorry-looking source. Dead branches didn't fall off, making way for new young shoots. The branches themselves grew young again. The shivering gray sprays of rosebush greened from within. External cues—warmth, and the angle of the sun—catalyzed a change within every tree, shrub, square foot of earth.2
This is metaphorically what happens to those disciples as well. New life emerged from what we might say was a pretty sorry-looking source. Jesus shows up as new life– but not in a made-over, perfectly healed and honed body. He showed up still bearing the scars and wounds from his crucifixion. The spirit within him is breathed into his forlorn and fretful disciples – just as they are as well. They were not in that room as faithful, flawless followers. They were there with all their doubts and fears and foibles. Even the week later, when Thomas is with them, Jesus does not wait until he says he will believe no matter what. He comes and meets his disciples exactly where they are and as they are. All they need is a willingness to receive the peace of Christ and the spirit of forgiveness and newness that Jesus offers. And with that, they are reborn. All that was dead in them is brought back to life.
A medieval mystic named Hildegard of Bingen, about 1000 years ago coined the term: viriditas (see back of bulletin). It is a word which combines two Latin words: green and truth, and it means the green force of life, that divine attribute that is the animating life-force within all creation, giving it life, moisture and vitality. With that word “viriditas” Hildegard captures the greening power, the living light, that breathes in all beings, and flows through all that is alive. It is the greening of things from the inside out, responding to the Divine energy unleashed on the world. 3
Those disciples received viriditas that evening that Jesus came to them: the unleashing of the divine energy, the full force gale of Holy Spirit, revitalizing them and lifting them to new life. This is not just a physical experience in nature, but a spiritual one taking place in our hearts as well.
This spirit of new life is beautifully pictured in the 1889 painting by Paul Gauguin, which Robert E. Shore-Goss writes about in his book called God is Green. In this painting you see the women at the foot of the cross, tenderly holding the body of Jesus. Shore-Goss says,
Christ’s body is green, prophetically signifying for myself that his death was green – bringing life to all. Three women are colored the same shade of green as Christ’s dead body, . . . The green shading from women and the body of Christ appear to be spilling green from themselves to the grass or ground.” He goes on to say: “For myself, Gaugin’s Green Christ incorporates the multiple levels of notion of green grace and its greening consequences, and it highlights Christ’s death for healing and life – with a clear assertion that the cross of death is transformed into the tree of life. He reflects: “I imagine myself touching the dead body of Christ, but it spills greening life to those holding on to him, . . . I imagined an embodied greening pulse of energy streaming into myself and generating sparks of hope and faith in the green Christ’s cross into the Tree of Life. Greening energy pulses with hope in spite of death.” 4
Not only for Shore-Goss, but for me as well, this picture so beautifully expresses the truth of the resurrection: that new life can come from that which has died. Christ’s resurrection becomes real for us when it gives us hope that new beginnings can grow from the endings in our lives. It takes time, and patience, and trust, but the Easter story proclaims that God will raise us up from our most devastating losses and lead us back into life, that God will forgive our most egregious sin and lead us back to grace. Let us trust that no matter where we are, or how we come physically, spiritually, emotionally, Jesus will breathe his renewing, greening, forgiving, resurrecting spirit of new life into our souls.
Today we gather to partake in this holy meal together, made from the fruits of this green earth, and infused with the living spirit of Jesus. This spirit of new life flows through the broken bread, and the shared cup – and flows into us. May the Spirit of viriditas enliven us and empower us to transform the world.
I end with this prayer by Joyce Rupp – (changing from singular to plural)
Ever-renewing and energizing Creator,
come, stir in our dormant spiritual limbs.
Wake up our tired prayers.
Revive our weary efforts of care.
Sing hope into our discouragement.
Wash our dusty, drab attitudes
with the cleansing rains of your vision.
Go deep to our roots and penetrate our faith
with the vibrancy of your grace.
Shake loose the old leftover oak leaves
of our tenacious ego-centeredness.
Coax joy to sprout from our difficulties.
Warm the buds of our relationships
so they bloom with healthy love.
Clear out our wintered debris
with the wild breeze of your liberating presence.
Nudge us, woo us, entice us, draw us to you.
We give you our trust and our gratitude as you
grace our slowly thawing spirits.
Light-filled Being, our Joy and our Hope,
let the greening in us begin.5 **
1Artress, Lauren. The Sacred Path Companion: a Guide to Walking the Labyrinth to Heal and Transform. Riverhead Books, 2006.
2http://www.ucc.org/daily_devotional_viriditas?utm_campaign=dd_mar14_18&utm_medium=email&utm_source=unitedchurchofchrist
3https://www.cloisterseminars.org/blog/2015/4/18/viriditas-welcoming-spring
4Shore-Goss, Robert. God Is Green: an Eco-Spirituality of Incarnate Compassion. Cascade Books, 2016.
5Rupp, Joyce. Out of the Ordinary: Prayers, Poems, and Reflections for Every Season. Avia Maria, 2010.
** - Changed all from singular “I” to plural “we” and all pertinent nouns to plurals