Prisoner of Hope: Covid-19 Part 1

Part I: Winter Has Come Too Early
Like you, I imagine, I find that during these unprecedented days, I’m in a constant oscillation between grief and hope. I’ve been conditioned by my culture, and often my Christian sub-culture to I might say, “close myself off” when I’m sweeping down to grief and then “open myself up” when I circle back to hope. It feels like the grief end of things is negative or wrong, and the hope end is positive or right.

But, as staggering as it seems, Jesus turns that kind of thinking upside down. My friend, Peter Rollins, and I can call him my friend because I’ve talked with him one time on the phone, says,

“The moment we feel the loss of all that once gave us meaning is not a time in which we are set free from Christ, nor is it a moment where we fall short of Christ: It is the time when we stand side by side with Christ.” -Peter Rollins, Insurrection.

And so, I’ve been trying to see with different eyes. And wait. The invitation that life has presented to all of us right now is to enter into the pain and be with it for a moment, a day, a week, maybe a few months. Be there. Be present to it. And grieve.

To grieve, in part, means to feel the anguish and name the injustice. Anguish and naming, like sunlight and water, allow for the growth of clarity, and within an ecosystem of clarity, it’s possible hope can emerge. I say possible because nothing is for sure. It’s also possible that you’ll wind up drinking adult beverages and giving into the darkness!

• When Jesus, who lived the full archetypal human life, teaches that mourning leads to comfort, he was showing us the way of hope.

• When Jesus, who represents life and life more abundant, weeps as he rides into Jerusalem in the last week of his life, he was showing us the way of hope.

• When Jesus, who is the Son of God, and the exact representation of God, cries out in despair on the cross, he was showing us the way of God.

Walter Brueggemann, finishes his book, “Prophetic Imagination” with these beautiful words,

“Mourning is not a formal, external requirement but rather the only door and route to joy. Seen in that context, Jesus’ saying about weeping and laughing is not just a neat aphorism but a summary of the entire theology of the cross. Only that kind of anguished disengagement permits fruitful yearning, and only the public embrace of deathliness permits newness to come. We are at the edge of knowing this in our personal lives, for we understand a bit of the process of grieving. But we have yet to learn and apply it to the reality of society. And finally, we have yet to learn it about God, who grieves in ways hidden from us and who waits to rejoice until his promises are fully kept.”

I think that what I think is that woundedness and grief are woven deep within the very essence of God himself(herself/itself) such that to grieve is to know God. Why does the Psalmist say, “God is close to the broken hearted”? Because God is broken-hearted.

Yes, winter has come early. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. It will take courage to wait. And feel the anguish. And name the injustice. To give Spring a chance.