Contemplating Resurrection

Life after death is often discussed in ways that feel exclusively religious or superstitious. For many, the idea of waking up in another world (e.g. heaven) after we draw our final breath on earth stretches beyond the limits of reason and scientific plausibility. Even comparing the various myths and religious beliefs regarding the afterlife, it's difficult to imagine that one strand amongst hundreds of conflicting beliefs somehow figured it all out. Do only Christians go to heaven? Perhaps only a subset of Christians make it to heaven since the others didn't quite get all the details correct? Maybe Muslims ultimately figured it out? Do we become one or nothing when we reach nirvana? Or do we roam the earth for eternity as disembodied spirits? Maybe this is all a simulation? Maybe none of this is real?

Instead of getting lost in hypothetical afterlife scenarios that no living person can be certain of, perhaps contemplating the pattern of life as we see and experience it now can give us a larger framework for understanding the persistence of life. Through contemplation we begin to see that our life is not a separate entity. Our life flows like a river from the spring of all life. As it flows, it intersects with other streams which all ultimately feed into the same ocean. At no point can we truly say that we are independently alive. Likewise, at no point can we truly say that we have any actual beginning or end. Birth, death, and rebirth are part of the ever-evolving, yet never-ending flow of life.

"Resurrection and renewal are, in fact, the universal and observable pattern of everything. We might just as well use non-religious terms like springtime, regeneration, healing, forgiveness, life cycles, darkness, and light." - Richard Rohr

Consider some of the ways we witness this perpetual and evolving flow of life. We excitedly look for the ways a child resembles the characteristics of their parents. We marvel at the transformation of a landbound caterpillar into an airborne butterfly. We eagerly anticipate the multisensory experience of the seasons changing. We shed tears for new life and for those we have lost. Aside from the ego, which desires nothing else but the self-preservation of its illusion of independence, we innately know that death is not the last note of our song. Death simply precedes transformation into new life where our melody is heard for eternity within the chorus of humanity.

We are the seemingly impossible product of genetic combinations shared over thousands of generations. We are the metamorphosis of cells that have differentiated and organized to produce the visage we see in the mirror. We are the emergence of a new season that will inevitably transform into the next. We are a note within a never ending symphony. Each new day presents the opportunity to embrace life again despite the deaths and endings that preceded this moment.

The biblical word for "resurrection" means to rise up and stand again, usually involving a change towards something better. To hope for resurrection is to bet against the finality of decay and disorder. It is to trust that through disorder and chaos, something better can emerge that includes and transcends what came before. We hope and trust that our children can build upon what we provided for them and do even greater things. We hope and trust that our chapter in the story of this world was not a waste of time. That our lives do matter and will always matter. And ultimately, we hope and trust that the gift of divine life which created and sustained us will endure in some form even when our bodies have returned to the earth.

As the river of our life returns to the ocean, when the individual flow of the stream becomes one with the waves and the tide, may we realize the gift of that journey. Perhaps another journey awaits. Or perhaps we will finally understand the purpose of that journey at its end and no longer need to experience separateness. Either way, the pattern of the universe reminds us that life always transforms into new life. Nothing is wasted.

When my body won't hold me anymore And it finally lets me free Where will I go? Will the trade winds take me south Through Georgia grain Or tropical rain Or snow from the heavens? Will I join with the ocean blue Or run into a savior true And shake hands laughing? And walk through the night Straight to the light Holding the love I've known in my life With no hard feelings. - The Avett Brothers