From the Cross of Then to the Pandemic of Now

I stumbled across this lovely poem by Mary Oliver this week. It seems to me to be the perfect expression of what we Christians are trying to get at when we try to unpack the resurrection.

Everything That Was Broken

Everything that was broken has

forgotten its brokenness. I live

now in a sky house, through every

window the sun. Also your presence.

Our touching, our stories. Earthy,

and holy both. How can this be, but

it is. Every day has something in 

it whose name is Forever.

This poem is from Oliver's book, Felicity, a collection of love poems. Which is exactly why it can explain the work of the cross far better and far beyond any theological treatise. Jesus was born from Love, lived by Love and died into Love. The resurrection can only be spoken of from a place of Love.  

Today, in the midst of a global pandemic, with thousands dead and thousands dying, millions filing for unemployment benefits, state budgets in collapse, and untold numbers of small businesses on the brink of bankruptcy, can we say that everything that was broken has forgotten its brokenness? How does the Christian celebration of a risen Christ translate to present conditions? If it cannot it is truly salt that has lost its flavor.

The focus of all longtime, credible religious bodies through the centuries is on the inner world, our spiritual nature. Certainly, this is true for Christianity as well, though the emphasis in the west has skewed toward moralistic; right behavior; that is, a right frame of mind and right living puts the soul right with God. This is decidedly outer world focused. But the resurrection goes far beyond the boundaries of the world of forms (the physical world). It speaks directly to our inner self, the soul, while confounding the physical laws of the outer, physical world. If the resurrection seems beyond comprehension and is simply unbelievable, then we are seeing it through our worldly senses. But because the spiritual realm includes far more then physical forms the laws of the physical world do not apply. Jesus demonstrated this again and again. Water becomes wine. Angels appear. Jesus becomes invisible to a crowd bent on stoning him to death. He walks on water and still a storm, restores the sight of the man born blind, the lame walk, the sick become well, and the dead are raised, again and again. He knows things about people’s lives though he has never met them. He appears alive and well in full physical form to the women at the empty tomb though he’s been dead for three days. The veil between the world we move about in and the entirety of the universe is thin indeed. The sanskrit phrase for what Jesus has done in the resurrection is Sat Chit Ananda. It is the full revelation of all Wisdom, all Truth, all Love. 

Throughout the ages the lovers of God (including those not the least bit religious) who spent their time in meditation or contemplation, writing poetry, prose and hymnody were experiencing Sat Chit Ananda and leaving us the love notes of that experience; Mary Oliver’s poem being one example. The mystics, poets and sages have long understood that exploring the depths of consciousness and awakening to the limitless power of the universal Love of God was the way to enlightenment. Christians call this salvation. Salvation is an act of surrender. It is not a doing as much as a letting be. We experience salvation, or union with God, when we surrender the ego, the mind, and let go of all the myths that pass as truth when we are still asleep. 

In a timely interview this week, Michael Singer, author of the Untethered Soul, reminded thousands of his followers that nothing can disturb the inner self, no matter what the outer conditions. He makes a clear distinction between the inner and outer worlds. Singer repeats what has been known by religious people for centuries, that it is only the outer self that experiences anxiety, fear and separateness. He recommended that the best work we can do in the present moment of this global pandemic is to use this situation to move closer to God; to move inward even while the outer world is screaming for our attention. 

Well within reach is the Balm of Gilead. Just close your eyes and breath.

Another hymn from the Christian community of Taize, France, situates our spiritual condition rightly in these lyrics:

Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. Those who seek God shall never go wanting. 

Nothing can trouble, nothing can frighten. God alone fills us.

Eckert Tolle, author of The Power of Now, has also responded to his millions of followers in several videos over the last couple of weeks. He begins his teaching during these turbulent times by reading a parable from the bible, the story of the houses built on sand and rock. The point of the parable, of course, is that we should build our spiritual lives on firm foundation in preparation for the winds and flood. He pointed out, that, of course, we usually go about this the other way round:  It usually takes heavy rain and gale force wind before we begin to think about the foundation we’ve chosen to build upon. Nonetheless, when we’ve spent our time exploring and expanding into our inner world it eventually and inevitably outgrows the outer world. The mind becomes the master and no longer its servant. From the place of Sat Chit Ananda we live in the physical world and engage with it fully but it no longer rules us. It has lost its power. There is no virus that can defeat the knowledge of all Wisdom, all Truth, all Love. Death has lost its sting. Earthy and holy both. How can this be, but it is.  Is that a line from Mary Oliver’s poem or perhaps the words spoken by the two Mary’s who first encountered the risen Jesus as they kissed his feet? 

Sometimes Jesus would tell his followers that they needed to become like children to understand the kingdom of God, or, as it described in other traditions, to find union with God (yoga), become enlightened or experience Sat Chit Ananda. Until a child is taught otherwise all things are possible and everything is an adventure. Easter is the revelation that, in fact, all things are possible and everything under the sun is just another adventure, or just another season, as the case may be. The only thing that separates us from God is us, though we create many reasons why this cannot be so. It has been said that we are so free, we are free to choose bondage. To confess an “untethered soul” (to borrow from Michael Singer) as the rock upon which we build our spiritual house we will need to learn to see the world with the eyes of the children we used to be. We will need to follow Jesus with our hearts and not our heads; not with the “mature” eyes of those who understand the world and how it works, but with the wild imaginings of a child.

The Sat Chit Ananda, that is, the knowing of all Wisdom, all Truth, and all Love of the Resurrection, can be summed up succinctly with the final line of Mary Oliver’s love poem as we move from the cross of then to the pandemic of now:  

Every day has something in it whose name is Forever.