Loading...Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
I learned a new word this week. I didn’t expect to. I didn’t know I needed a new word. But this word seems, well, urgently needed and it needs to be widely shared so that we can recognize it when we see it as a part of our daily mission to live into what we are supposed to do.
It’s a word that, by definition, will bring hope. And after these past few days of wondering what will happen to the world with the death of Jesus, we need hope, don’t we?
I tend to linger in the emotions that come with the stories we tell beginning with Palm Sunday. The whiplash of shouting “Hosannas” at the beginning of that service to shouting “Crucify him!” at the end is mind-blowing and heart-breaking.
As the week progressed, the emotional wear and tear continued.
The humility of the foot washing. The awe and wonder of the Last Supper. The sleepiness, waiting for Jesus to finish praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. The fear and confusion of the arrest. The denial, with Peter, on that patio where Caiaphas held Jesus captive in a cell below the ground before and after the trial. The shock as the people chose Jesus to be crucified instead of Barabbas. The sound of the hammer hitting the nails … my shoulders shudder and my stomach turns when “it is finished.” Then, the tears well up as the candle, the light of Christ, is blown out, representing the end of his presence on earth.
Another day comes and goes. And then, after hours of sorrow and grief, it is three days later.
I may not have been there, but I join in the depth of their despair when a group of women went to the tomb, bringing the baskets of spices, herbs and oils they had prepared for the solemn, holy, act of anointing his body.
For them to find the tomb empty must have been unbearable.
They had followed him, learned from him, served him, building their abiding friendship with him and with each other along the way. They were as much his followers as the men. And here they were, at an empty tomb. Insult added to their injured hearts. Such pain.
My body, mind, and heart are exhausted rereading … retelling … reliving this story.
Yet through it all, even in the depths of sorrow and sadness, I know in my heart that the story does not end here. I know that the Light will return, and with it, hope.
Hope.
We lit the new Paschal fire and brought the Light back just a few minutes ago. The resurrected Christ is among us and is alive with us today. As the two men in dazzling clothing told the women gathered at the tomb: “He is not here, but has risen.”
Why does that bring hope?
According to the Gospels, over the next 50 days Jesus will encounter many of his followers and he will remind them, as he did throughout his ministry with them, that they are to follow just two commandments: To love God and to love your neighbor as you love yourself, because everything else will fall into place when they do.
Jesus spent his whole ministry showing his followers, then and now, all the different ways we can love our neighbor. I believe that the best way for us to show our love for God to God is to express love to all of our neighbors throughout creation. And it takes all of us to shower the world with love. When we love like that, we can bring hope to the world.
That brings me back to the word I learned this week.
“Meliorism: [MEE-lyuh-riz-uhm, it’s a noun, defined as:] The quiet yet unwavering belief that the world, despite its flaws and struggles, can be made better through human effort, kindness, and wisdom.
It is the soft glow of hope in the darkest moments, the faith that every act of goodness ripples outward, shaping a future brighter than the past.”[1]
That’s quite a word, isn’t it? Meliorism.
We may have thought that love died on Friday at 3:00 when Jesus breathed his last.
We may have grieved the death of love yesterday, when the tomb was sealed, the Passover meal was eaten, and the rest that comes with Shabbat left us unable to act.
But if we listened to Jesus on Thursday when he commanded us to love one another, when he showed us how love is an action word when he washed the feet of his followers, even in our desperation, sorrow, and grief, we should know that love could not die.
Love is what Jesus left for us to do.
How can we deny that call to action?
If we believe that God is love and where true love is, God is there,
If we believe that Jesus lived his entire life, serving, healing, eating with, and caring for those in the most dire of circumstances to show us what love looks like,
If we believe that loving one another is the only law required to show our commitment to God,
If we believe that Jesus came into this world to teach us what love looks like,
How can we not be people of the resurrection?
How can we believe anything else than that LOVE LIVES?
On those days when it is hard to hope, hard to find peace, hard to feel love, we go to the story of Easter to be reminded that even when it seemed as if the world ended on Good Friday, Jesus rose from the dead. Love did not die. Peace did not die. Hope did not die.
Do you know why? Because of you. Because of each of you who know the love of God and who know that Jesus left his followers—you and me and so many more—with the responsibility to continue the work he started. You may wonder how.
It might not be as difficult as it sounds. When we read Micah 6:8, we are reminded that we are required:
To do justice. To love kindness. To walk humbly with your God.
Many people wonder where they can find hope. I believe we find
hope in one another. Just like finding love in one another. Jesus left strict instructions to give love. When we take that expectation and choose to show love to all of God’s creation, we offer hope to the world.
Love is what Jesus taught us and expects us to do because, when we love like Jesus, when we seek and serve Christ in all persons, when we strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being, the world can experience meliorism, which may I say again, is “The quiet yet unwavering belief that the world, despite its flaws and struggles, can be made better through human effort, kindness, and wisdom.
“It is the soft glow of hope in the darkest moments, the faith that every act of goodness ripples outward, shaping a future brighter than the past.”[2]
We can bring hope with every act of love.
Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
[1] Facebook post by Poetry Lovers, via Pinterest, @cosmosbyrudra
[2] Facebook post by Poetry Lovers, via Pinterest, @cosmosbyrudra
