Sabbath doesn’t always bring rest. And Easter doesn’t always remind me of resurrection. Sometimes, the message of Easter is simply, “endure.”
Not the most hope-filled word, I know. But sometimes, it is all we can do.
It was hard not to draw correlations between the death of 16-year-old Robert Dentmond and the death of Jesus, for me. Being on Work Tour with our high school group during Holy Week usually brings a deeper sense of mission and spirit. But this year, with the death of Robert on Palm Sunday, the week took on the more tragic aspects of the Passion story- especially since I was in deep community with young men and men who were his same age, many of whom went to the same school; living with them through the process of coming to terms with this tragic death, and what it means to each of us.
In the gospel story, Jesus spends a significant portion of his last night in the garden at Gethsemane. In his prayers, we hear the sadness of Jesus, and the deep wondering if there is possibly another way. And I heard in that story how Robert’s Gethsemane moment came with the call he made to 9-1-1 dispatchers; letting them know he had a gun, letting them know he intended to die. Was he asking that the cup be removed from him, as Jesus did? Or was he shoring himself for the next part of his journey, as Jesus did? The biblical story then tells us that Jesus dutifully faced down those who came to arrest him, and didn’t offer a single plea in his defense; instead flowing through the Roman justice system that somehow allowed him to be crucified for crimes impossible to define. In his final moments, Jesus forgives his executioners. And I can’t help but wonder if Robert did the same.
Today, this week, I think of how those disciples must have felt in that week following the death of their fearless leader. If Thomas is any testament, then doubt was likely the most common denominator among the gathered few. Once so convicted in their passion and beliefs; now so fraught with sadness and fear. If Peter is any proof, then denial for fear of culpability was likely a very appealing choice to make when confronted with the realities of what had transpired. Self-interest and self preservation are hard things to overcome. Sometimes the only thing one can do is to pray to endure another day, with the hope that somehow, hope will return.
Yet in the midst of the madness, the message of love and hope did manage to prevail. The community stuck together. And in so doing their doubts were relieved, their culpability became their conviction once again, and hope was resurrected once more.
Love (somehow) endures all things. Love is the catalyst to hope. Love is the little reminder that there are ways our world operates that transcend the definable experiences of life and death and grief and fear. Love is the seed of life that, if cared for and nurtured, can blossom into beautiful fruits of the spirit. So today we plant the seeds of possibility, and hope. And nurture, and care, and concern. And change. With the hope that someday soon? Resurrection. But for now? Endurance.
1 Corinthians 13:7, “Love…endures all things.”
Breath prayer: Enduring/Love