A Time to Live Again

There was a study done by biologists in which they determined that, aerodynamically speaking, the bumble bee cannot fly. If you’ve ever taken a good look at a bumble bee, you’ll see why: the bumble bee has too large of a body mass to be supported by such puny wings. Fortunately, the bumble bee does not listen to such criticism, and it does, indeed, fly!

 

If you read the biblical stories that follow Jesus’ crucifixion, you will find that no one believed that there could be a happy ending. Jesus Christ had died, period. As powerful as he was, despite the many miracles he performed, the authorities who crucified him were just too powerful. The beautiful message Jesus of Nazareth brought, the hope he had created—it all vanished on a Friday afternoon.

 

Two of Jesus’ disciples, for example, had called it quits and were heading home to their hometown, Emmaus. When a stranger appeared and walked along with them, they said, “We were hoping that [Jesus of Nazareth] was the one who would set Israel free” (cf. Luke 24:13-35). We read that after Jesus was crucified, the disciples had “locked the doors of the place where they were” out of fear (cf. John 20:19-23). We read that Simon Peter and some others were also going back to their former way of life and their former vocation. Simon Peter said, “I am going out to fish.” The others replied, “We will join you.” And so, they went off in their boat and their prospects weren’t much better than they were when they had first met Jesus: “All through the night they caught nothing” (cf. John 21:1-14).

 

But then the stories take a new turn. They bring unbelievable news, perhaps even more astounding than that the bumble bee can actually fly. The stranger walking with the two disciples calling it quits turns out to be Jesus. And once they recognize him, they turn around and head back to Jerusalem. And even though the doors of the room are locked, it is the risen Jesus who enters and stands before them, wishing them peace in the midst of their fear, and showing them his pierced hands and feet and side. And the fishermen who had been at it all night long and caught nothing, encounter a stranger who points out where they can make a catch and, when they do, their nets are at the breaking point, and they recognize Jesus, now risen from the dead and fully alive.

 

And now, in our day, we likewise have many who don’t believe that bumble bees can fly, or that someone could rise from the dead, or that good can overcome evil. They believe that, with our nation so divided and people so hostile to each other, reconciliation is not possible. They believe that, with so much of the world at war—in Ukraine, in Gaza and Israel, in the Middle East, in so many places in Africa—Jesus can no longer bring peace into our shattered world. They believe that, with so much discrimination, abuse of the poor, racial prejudice, and selfish greed, there is no reasonable possibility of justice in our battered world. They believe that, with the scales so tilted toward evil, good no longer has a chance. They have no hope and all they see is darkness.

 

But we dare to proclaim something different. That’s why we’re here. We need to hear the story once again, we need to find our bearings, we need to be reminded why Easter still matters. It’s not really about chocolate bunnies, or pretty new dresses, or Easter egg hunts, or tables full of kielbasa, or ham, or prime rib. We’re here to hear the story again, to allow its power to change us, to help us to believe—to believe all that seems impossible: that bumble bees can fly, that good can triumph over evil, that life cannot be crushed by death, that the poor will still receive good news, that justice will come, that divisions can be overcome, and that the final word spoken will be love. Because we have heard the story again, we can dare to live again, we can speak of hope again, we can unlock the doors again, and proclaim again that death is dead because Jesus lives again.

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