First-fruits of the Kingdom

Resurrection, Anna Kocher, US, 2006

The resurrection of Jesus sent shock-waves through the established order. It was the first-fruits of a new kingdom: a kingdom of life, not death; love, not hate; justice, not oppression.

A 2014 essay by Anglican theologian N. T. Wright explains:

Jesus’ risen body was the first element in God’s long-promised "new creation." A little bit of God’s new world, coming forward from the ultimate future into our surprised and unready present time. And launching the project of new creation that continues to this day. . . .

Here's the point: Jesus’ resurrection doesn’t mean, "He’s gone to heaven, so we can go there too" (though you might be forgiven for thinking it meant that, granted the many sermons both at funerals and at Easter). It means, "In Jesus, God has launched his plan to remake creation as a whole, and if you are a follower of Jesus you get to be part of that right now." What God did for Jesus, close up and personal, is what he plans to do for the whole world. And the project is already under way.

This has profound implications for daily life, spiritual practice, and public policy. Last week the Political Theology Network shared a short essay by Carmen Joy Imes, associate professor of theology at Biola University: The Politics of Resurrection. 

When I speak of how the resurrection of Jesus is world-remaking, I mean it in the best sense: the reversal of bodily decay, the defeat of exploitative expressions of power, and the restoration of agency to those who have been oppressed.

Imes provides a good summary of "ways the resurrection of Jesus changes everything."

It's for all of us: 

Christ is the “firstfruits” of resurrection. No one plants a pear tree to get just one juicy pear. The first pear is a harbinger of an abundant harvest. Bushels of pears are yet to come. . . 

The hope of Easter applies to us and it is meant to transform the way we relate to one another.The hope of Easter applies to us and it is meant to transform the way we relate to one another.

It's not just about heaven: 

The resurrection of Jesus initiates more than just an internal sense of well-being or a promise of a life after this one. It’s also thoroughly political. The systems of this world wield the sword against all who challenge their rule. When Jesus rose from the dead, every worldly abuse of power was put on notice: rulers who are not aligned with God’s priorities face the certainty of judgment. . . .

The blessings of the LORD’s kingdom are not purely spiritual. They are inherently practical. They transform life expectancy and employment practices. The kingdom over which God rules is soaked in Shalom and absent of violence. 

It's not just men:

Theology and proclamation were men’s work: male priests, male scribes, male rabbis, male disciples, male governors, male philosophers. The name of the game became an attempt to protect the status quo. But Jesus wasn’t having it.

When Jesus chooses Mary Magdalene to announce the most important news of human history, he disrupts these social expectations and power dynamics. By sending Mary, Jesus signals a new creation reality that upends assumptions about male power and begins the process of restoring the collaboration between male and female that God has always intended.

Les Saintes femmes au tombeau du Christ,
Irma Martin, 1843 France

The resurrection is political. But it's also personal. For all of us. A decade ago, I wrote a post about the way God speaks to each of us, entering our stories, drawing us one by one: 

Witnesses across continents, across centuries, give thanks for the reality of resurrection, bringing hope where hope seems impossible, freedom from constraints of culture, poverty, illness, evil, oppression, sin.

It’s certainly true for me. In a broken, battered world, I am blessed with hope and joy made possible by the great reversal of resurrection morning.

In the jubilant noise of this Easter Sunday, I am listening, again, for that quiet voice that speaks my name, reminding me of the great value we hold in the eyes of God, reminding me that through Christ’s death and resurrection. . . we are all claimed and called to something far more than simple dying flesh: immortal, priceless, loved. 

We're surrounded this year by political anxiety, economic uncertainty, social unrest. Our churches are divided. Friends we've worshipped with for years have stepped away from church completely, alarmed at a narrowing gospel that no longer seems good news for the poor, the sick, the stranger.

I'm reminded that none of this is new. There have always been religious leaders eager for political power and ready to kill when their will is thwarted. There have always been political leaders with great ambition and no moral compass.

And since that first Easter morning, there have always been those who follow the way of Christ and rejoice in the fullness of his resurrection, at great risk, with great love, with joy that overcomes fear and sorrow. 

May we know that love and joy, and live as first-fruits of the coming kingdom. 

Icon of the Resurrection, Greek Orthodox Church

Other Easter Reflections:

• Is the Resurrection Just a Myth?, April 12, 2015
• Resurrection Sunday: Exuberant Reversal, April 5, 2015
• Saying Yes to the Risen Christ, April 20, 2014
• Where Is Newness Needed? March 31, 2013
• Risen Indeed: the Hermaneutic Community April 8, 2012
• Resurrection, April 25, 2011 

Hands Off Our Neighbors

I am an unaffiliated voter and have been all my life. I watched recaps of the Watergate trials on late night TV my freshman year of college, knowing my Christian elders had voted for Richard Nixon.

I watched Mayor Frank Rizzo's blind eye toward abuse of black Philadelphians during my years of grad school in Philly, knowing most white folks in churches around me  supported him because he said he'd keep them safe. 

When my husband Whitney worked with Prison Fellowship, founded by Chuck Colson, Nixon's hatchet man, we spent time with people from both parties who had served time for illegal partisan political actions. 

While I know there are often good reasons for choosing one party over another, I've also seen the harm of blind loyalty, and the danger of throwing support too fervently in one direction. 

George Washington apparently felt something similar. His 1796 Farewell Address explained why he chose not to seek a third term, then warned against "the dangers of parties" and "geographical discriminations."  He said:

Let me . . . warn you in the most solemn manner against the baneful effects of the spirt of party. . . . The alternate domination of one faction over another, sharpened by the spirit of revenge, natural to party dissension. . . is itself a frightful depotism. But this leads at length to a more formal and permanent despotism. The disorders and miseries, which result, gradually incline the minds of men to seek security and repose in the absolute power of an individual; and sooner or later the chief of some prevailing faction . . . turns this disposition to the purposes of his own elevation, on the ruins of Public Liberty. 

I lead a non-partisan grassroots organization working to change Pennsylvania's redistricting process. I've seen how the "spirit of party" Washington warned against can lead to bending the rules to keep one's own party in power. Even when it undermines democracy. Even when it damages confidence in government, wrecks public policy, and yields that ugly spirit of revenge between legislative colleagues. 

Our all-volunteer Fair Districts PA team is composed of Rs, Ds, and some, like me, unaffiliated voters. Some are registered with a party solely so they can vote in PA's closed primaries. Some have shifted parties over the years due to changing party platforms or their own changing priorities. ALL are tired of the way our political structures encourage partisan games instead of common sense solutions. 

One of our mottos, repeated often: Not Red, Not Blue, Just Fair. 

Our nation needs deep foundational change. But we also need moral courage and a willingness to set party aside and stand up for what we know is right. 

In the past few months I've watched people I once admired contradict themselves rather than acknowledge or counter their party leader's endless lies. 

I've watched people who claim to love their neighbors stand silent as neighbors born in other countries are deported without due process or legal rationale. 

I've heard people who give generously to Christian aide agencies repeat lies about fraud in those same agencies. 

I've seen legislators who once worked in national defense pretend dangerous security breaches are not worth noting. 

All of that was on my mind in deciding this week to join a Hands Off rally in West Chester, our county seat, just minutes from my home.

My participation wasn't a statement of support for Democrats. 

It wasn't a repudiation of Republicans.

My goal was to stand on behalf of my neighbors:

• Immigrants targeted unjustly.
• Disabled children whose protections will vanish as the Department of Education is unraveled. 
• All those hungry, sick, impoverished people impacted by the loss of USAID.
• Health researchers whose projects have been cut abruptly, leaving sick people in confusion and undermining years of work. 
• Thousands and thousands of government workers suddenly fired without notice, explanation, or plan to carry on important work they've been doing. 

In making a sign to carry in the protest, I realized there's far too much at stake to ever put on one small sign. But I did make my sign.

I did go and stand with others to say "Hands off our democracy, our neighbors, the protections enacted by Congress over decades of debate."

At the protest I met people from my church.
Conservatives I've known for years.
A parent who sent her children to the local Christian private school. 
People I know - for sure - voted Republican in every election until they voted against Donald Trump. 
For many, it was the first protest event they've ever attended. 

We are all wrestling with the question: what does it mean to love my neighbor?

We are struggling with the command to walk justly in a tragically unjust time. 

In my church, we pray weekly:

Most merciful God,
we confess that we have sinned against you
in thought, word, and deed,
by what we have done,
and by what we have left undone.
We have not loved you with our whole heart;
we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves.
We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.
For the sake of your Son Jesus Christ,
have mercy on us and forgive us;
that we may delight in your will,
and walk in your ways,
to the glory of your Name.
Amen. 

I will never fully do what I should do. There will always be work left undone. 

I will never love God as fully as I should, and will never fully love my neighbor as myself.

But today I took a step to do that, against a frightful depotism that is already costing lives, sowing chaos, harming communities, and dragging us ever closer to the ruins of public liberty.

I found myself surrounded by people doing the same: trying their best to love their neighbor. I was thankful to be there. Thankful for the hundreds of thousands, at over 1200 events nationwide, who showed up to say "Hands off my neighbor." 
 
My goal, in politics as in every aspect part of my life, is to walk in God's ways, for His glory and our good. 

Attending that rally was part of that. 

I'll be watching for the next occasion. 

• ABC: Huge crowds gather in Hands Off rallies nationwide
• NPR: Nationwide protest rallies erupt against Trump and Musk
• NPR: Photos/ See demonstrators around the country rally
  
  

Just a few notes in response to critiques I've seen of the hundreds of Hands Off rallies:

Despite right-wing accusations, there's no evidence anywhere that participants were paid to attend. There were no massed produced signs, no central distribution of any kind. If there were buses, they were paid for by the folks who attended, or in some cases, by continuing care communities whose residents wanted transportation. My 80 something uncle from Washington State was part of a community that sent several buses to the Olympia. Some, like my uncle, went with walkers. None were paid protestors. 

In all reporting I've seen so far, there was no hint of violence except for one incident where someone offended by protestors brought an automatic gun to threaten them. He was arrested, then released. 

Despite some headlines highlighting "angry protestors," my experience of the event I attended was that attendees were thoughtful, friendly, determined, ready to do what they can to make sure our democracy works for us all. I saw nothing I'd call hateful, little that looked angry. 

Observors noted that the overall demographic seemed to skew older and white. I saw a handful of young attendees, including some college students I know, and a few children and teens. That seems at least in part reflective of the current political climate. When black and brown people are being arrested without warrants or probably cause, when immigrants who have lived here for decades are deported without due process, when college students fear expulsion for speaking out against the administration, public protests no longer feel safe for many. 

Even so, it seem likely that the April 5 Hands Off protest will be remembered as the largest multi-site simultaneous protest event in history, at over 1200 sites with over 400,000 registered, and many more unregistered attendees. For most who attended, the event was just the start of citizen efforts to protect democracy and neighbors threatened by unjust actions.