An Upside-Down Easter Meditation by Parker J Palmer,

“Years ago, I stumbled upon a little book by Julia Esquivel, the Guatemalan poet and social justice activist, titled “Threatened with Resurrection.” Those few words had a huge impact on me.

I’d been taught that death is the great threat and resurrection the great hope. But at the time I found Esquivel’s book, I was experiencing the death-in-life called depression. Her title jarred me into the hard realization that figurative forms of death sometimes feel comforting — while resurrection, or the hope of new life, feels threatening.

Why? Because death-in-life can bring us a perverse sense of relief. When I was depressed, nobody expected anything of me, nor did I expect anything of myself. I was exempt from life’s demands and risks. But if I were to find new life, who knows what daunting tasks I might be required to take on?

Sometimes we choose death-in-life (as in compulsive overactivity, unhealthy relationships, non-stop judgmentalism aimed at self or others, work that compromises our integrity, substance abuse, pervasive cynicism, etc.) because we’re afraid of the challenges that might come if we embraced resurrection-in-life.

Every religious tradition is rooted in mysteries I don’t pretend to understand, including claims about what happens after we die. But this I know for sure: as long as we’re alive, choosing resurrection is always worth the risk. I’m grateful for the people and experiences that continue to help me to embrace “the threat of resurrection.”

My Easter wish for everyone is the ability to say “YES!” to life. Even when life challenges us, it’s a gift beyond all measure.”

From Easter at the Forge Cross by Father Daniel O’Leary,

“Resurrection is as earthy, local and intimate as our sweat and blood, our dreams and nightmares, our drives and
passions. It is as real as whatever or whoever drives and drains us, draws and drags us. Resurrection, in fact, is the
deepest meaning of everything that brings a smile to our faces, a tear to our eyes, a vitality to our bodies, a softness to
our voices and a tenderness to our touch. Resurrection is as real as that…

I see, with a painful clarity, the utter fallacy of the dualism that underpins so much of our teaching, preaching and evangelizing. There are no longer two realities, the mystery of Easter convinces us – one ‘merely human’, the other holy; one the church, the other the world, one human, the other divine. In the baby-body of the incarnation, in the destroyed body of the crucifixion, in the shining, human body of the resurrection – that is the same body in which all dualism has been transcended. To be truly human, it is now established, is to be divine. To be is to be blessed. To live is to be holy. Everything is grace.”

From Circle of Grace: A Book of Blessings for the Seasons by Jan Richardson,

“In the Breath, Another Breathing
For Holy Saturday

Let it be
that on this day
we will expect
no more of ourselves
than to keep
breathing
with the bewildered
cadence
of lungs that will not
give up the ghost.

Let it be
we will expect
little but
the beating of
our heart,
stubborn in
its repeating rhythm
that will not
cease to sound.

Let it be
we will
still ourselves
enough to hear
what may yet
come to echo:
as if in the breath,
another breathing;
as if in the heartbeat,
another heart.

Let it be
we will not
try to fathom
what comes
to meet us
in the stillness
but simply open
to the approach
of a mystery
we hardly dared
to dream.”

From Julian of Norwich, The Showings: A Contemporary Translation by Mirabai Starr

“Next, I had a physical vision of the face on the crucifix. As I stared at it, the face began to shift and change. I beheld aspects of his passion: vile contempt, spitting and pummelling, and more excruciating wounds than I could possibly count… This vision was physical, but dim, and it filled my heart with sorrow. I wished for more light, so I could more clearly see what was going on.

But no sooner did I have this desire than a voice spoke in my mind: If God wants to show you more, he will be your light. You need no other light than him. There I was, seeing him and seeking him at the same time! We are so blind, so foolish. We do not start seeking God until he begins to show himself to us. Then, when he reveals a glimpse of himself to us, through his grace, that same grace inspires us to strive to see him more perfectly. In this way I saw him and I looked for him; I had him and I longed for him. As I see it, this is the way things are, and the way things ought to be.

At some point, my mind was plunged into the depths of the sea. I saw green hills and valleys, which seemed to be covered in tiny pebbles, strewn with seaweed and moss. What I realized was that even if a man or woman were brought down to the bottom of the ocean each could still see God. This is because there is nowhere that God is not. Not only is God everywhere, but he keeps us safe and protected from harm wherever we are. When we see God, we have more strength and comfort that we can possibly describe with the language of this world. We believe that we hardly see God at all, but what he desires is for us to believe that we see him continuously. It is through this belief that we receive his grace. He wishes to be seen and to be sought. He wants us to yearn for him and to trust in him.”

from The Radiance Sutras by Lorin Roche (translation of the Vijnana Bhairava Tantra),

“The air I am breathing was exhaled in ecstasy
By an ancient sun.
This earth I am standing on
Was born of cosmic fire.
The blood flowing through my veins
Is as salty as the primordial ocean.
The space permeating my body
Is as infinite as the space all around.

Above, below, to all sides, within,
The elements of the universe
Are engaged in their ceremony of delight.

This is my religion.
The attraction between suns
Is the same
As the love pulsating in my heart.”

“When I hear people talk in reverence of far-off goddesses, angels on high and light beings
I often wish, that they would instead, turn their sacred reverie to the bone like roots, the dark fecund earth, the insects and the worms, the weeds and fungi
For they are the ones that carry the spirit of angel, they are the real alchemists
Showing us daily, the wilds spirit of recovery
Turning rubbish into gold, death into life, manure into medicine
I wish we would celebrate more, sing into the trees, the darkness, the soil, songs and prayers of reverie for the incredible beauty, the indomitable will of the wild..
How odd it is, that angels, gods and far off beings seem to be the sensible option, the socially accepted notion
Rather than remember and adore the angelic in the beetle, the bacteria and the seed.”

Brigit Anna McNeill

“When water is still, it is like a mirror, reflecting your chin and eyebrows, everything. And if water obtains lucidity from stillness, how much more will the faculties of the mind do the same? The mind of the sage, being in repose, becomes the mirror of the universe, of all creation.

Repose, tranquillity, stillness, inaction – these are the levels of the universe, the ultimate perfection of the Tao. Therefore wise rulers and sages rest in these.

Repose, tranquillity, stillness, inaction – these are the sources of all things. Hold to this when coming forward to pacify a troubled world.

Your merit will be great, your name illustrious, and the world united into one.

In your repose you will be wise. In your movements, powerful. By inaction you will gain honour, and by confining yourself to what’s pure and simple, you will prevent the whole world from struggling with you just for appearance’s sake.”

Chuang Tzu, 4th Century BCE, China

Just One by Denise Bristow,

“It only needs one,
one tiny light
in a dark hopeless place.

It only needs one,
one small smile
amidst anger and hate.

It only needs one,
one voice in a crowd
waiting to be heard.

It only needs one,
one act of truth
to overcome fear and lies

It only needs one,
one hand extended
in friendship and love.

It only needs one,
one person to lay
the foundations of peace.

It only needs one,
one of us, all of us
can be that one.”

“Our breath is a gift from God. It is what gives us life. It is how we commune with the created world. With each breath we breathe in a little bit of the world around us and it becomes part of our physical body. With every breath we breathe out a little piece of our physical body returns to the great circle of life. When our breath ceases so does our life on this earth. In the biblical tradition, the breath of God is what gives life to the universe. Breath, Spirit, and Wind are all synonymous. To breathe is to be filled with the Spirit and to be given the gift of life. It renews us and sustains us. God breathes in us.

We are made of dust and to dust we shall return, but until that time comes it is the breath which God breathes in us that gives us life. What more tangible presence of God is there to be found than that which animates us and surges up the vital life force within us?

In the contemplative life the breath is also a great tool. We allow our breath to guide our prayer. By following our breath, we simultaneously follow the wisdom of the ephemeral Spirit and our material body. We join our animal nature to our angelic nature and out of that unity springs forth a great well of possibility which flows freely into our lives and the lives of those around us. To follow our breath is to follow the Holy Spirit.

We are intertwined with all of creation and our breath is one and the same breath that every other person in the past present and future has breathed, is breathing, or will breathe. It is also the same breath that the trees and animals breathe. There is no greater form of communion than that which God has created us to partake in without ceasing and without choice. We need only recognise it, bless it, and use it to praise our God.”

Justin Coutts

“There is no humility in pretending you are worthless. Humility is not an obsession over failure. Humility is a sensitivity to that which lies beyond.
Humility is when you recognize that, yes, you have talents, you have something to contribute to the world, you have a certain stature and authority—and yet all that has a larger context.
Humility means to reframe the meaning of your existence within that larger whole.
From where, after all, do all these talents and achievements come? They were granted you from Above so you may fulfil the mission assigned you in this life.
“And so,” the humble person asks, “What have I done with the gifts endowed to me?”
Take pride—but not in the gifts placed in your hand. Take pride in what you do with it.”

Rabbi Tzvi Freeman