The Gospel according to John has a curious comment on the disciples’ amazement at Jesus’ Resurrection: “They did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.” – Had to – We’ve all known our had to moments in life; I had to get the job, he had to come home again, my kids just had to be safe, the cancer diagnosis had to be a mistake. We would not submit to the death set upon us. Whatever the impending poverty or loss or insecurity or anguish that loomed we had to hope, aspire, believe, trust. We had to; from our bones, from the core of our being; we had to compel life. We had to rise from that which might presume to entomb us.
Rising from that death which might presume to entomb us today are the people of Carbondale, Illinois. In this college town in a Midwestern state, the people decided they would not be entombed by the violence of guns or racism or hunger or poverty or the like. The people of Carbondale decided they had to rise as a community and nurture cooperation, nonviolence, togetherness. In 2011, organizers and activists, teachers and librarians, parents and youth came together for Days of Peace. They rose together as a powerful community to become what they each are personally; peaceful, compassionate, kind. Each year since, the people of Carbondale have come together for more Days; Days of Peace and Days of Compassion and Days of Food Justice and the like. The exponential power of their rising is spreading. They are now ‘Nonviolent Carbondale’ and are a model for other cities to also rise from tombs of violence and death. From their witness, peace activist John Dear of Pace e Bene is leading a ‘Nonviolent Cities’ campaign. Its intent is to rise up across the land peaceful people with a whole new way of living together. Millennia ago a man of dark skin and meager means with great love and healing hands gathered together all those who knew there had to be another way of living together. There had to be a way of rising again after others might presume to entomb us. In whatever way others might presume to entomb the Body of Christ again and again across the world, those who come after us will know we had to rise and rise again and again.
“You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. …Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? …Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.” (Still I Rise – Maya Angelou)
Prayer: Spirit of Life, we rise this day and every day and we soar.
Question: What is entombing me and from which I will one day say, “I had to rise?”
March 27, 2016 Gospel John 20:1-9 Easter Sunday