The last line of Wendell Berry's poem "Manifesto: The Mad Farmer Liberation Front" is "practice resurrection.
It's a poem not about church or theology, directly, certainly not in the traditional sense. It’s about land, agriculture, the cycles of planting and harvesting, and the risks we ought to take in life.
But Berry reflects on these elements in God’s good creation and sees them as signs of divine activity in the world. They are emblems of hope, extensions of God’s mighty work familiar to us throughout the pages of scripture.
It's that closing line that always resonates with me, especially at this time of year. We are in one of those “in-between” seasons of the liturgical calendar.
- We are well past Easter’s empty tomb
- but not quite to Pentecost, with its promise of good news for the people of all nations.
It's in these "in-between" seasons that we often wonder, "What now?"
The "what now" is... "practice resurrection".
Our call is to make resurrection touchable and real, with acts of justice and mercy, blessing and grace.
Easter is not merely a day in history commemorated by our annual celebrations and songs. It is a proclamation to all corners of creation. Christ is risen. This truth we confess as the core identity of our lives. It is not something stuck in a dusty old theological book.
The confession we declare is "Christ IS risen." The present tense of that verb echoes loudly— and not in our churches alone.
The reality of risen-ness makes a difference in the who, and what, and where of our days. It is to resonate in our own Galilees… precisely where our risen Lord told his disciples they would find him.
- Galilee is the place familiar to us.
- It’s the place we work and call home.
- The place where we attend class and where we shop for groceries.
- Galilee is where we pay our bills, cut the grass, do the laundry,
have the hard conversations,
and learn to forgive someone when we’ve been hurt. - This truth matters in Galilee if it is to matter anywhere.
In learning to practice resurrection:
- we keep our eyes open
to the places in our world desperately seeking new life; - we keep our ears tuned
to the cries of those pleading for restoration and renewal; - we make our hearts receptive
to the lives around us, longing to be blessed, encouraged, equipped, and able to experience the fullness of resurrection possibilities.
Today, amid all the political nonsense and upheavals and wars and economic turmoil and everything else happening in our world... today is not a time of passive words.
We are living in days of action, days of a love that stubbornly refuses to remain hidden in tombs. These are the days of practising what matters most.
Practice is not something most of us love. We don’t like the drudgery and repetition. We much prefer the lights and the crowds, people cheering on our performance.
But practice is where the actual work takes place. It is the place of growth and discipline, of failure and second chances. Practice is where we learn to do what makes a difference.
Annie Dillard in "The Writing Life" wrote,
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.”
The days matter.
The moments count.
And every minute of practising resurrection breaks another brick in the wall of the failed approaches competing to be first in our lives.
Practising resurrection is about more than showing up on Easter Sunday with bright new clothes and then falling back into lives unchanged by this miracle.
- We are called to be those who speak in a particular way.
- We are called to be those who love in a specific way.
- We are called to be those who give in this tangible kind of way so that our communities are graciously aware that new and everlasting life is what Jesus proclaimed.
We practice resurrection.