Monthly Archives: April 2025

Live in the light of the resurrection

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer defined Easter this way: “To live in the light of the resurrection – that is what Easter means” (Barnhill, 2005, p. 114). Live in the light of the resurrection.

In one of those contemporary movies about the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, one scene sticks in my mind. It is when the women who discover the empty tomb early that first Easter encounter there the “two men in dazzling clothes” (Luke 24:4).

But instead of actually meeting two men standing there, all we see over the empty shroud in the tomb is an eye-shielding brilliant light from which the divine voice speaks, “Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen” (Luke 24:5). Surprise!

We are so fortunate in Canada to celebrate Easter each year during the Springtime in the Northern Hemisphere. Early 20th century New England writer, Henry Beston, called Spring, the “trumpet call of the return of light” (cited in Mahany, 2023, p. 62). In Spring the days grow longer, we get our first basking in the sunlight’s warmth, and new life starts emerging from the sleepy, cold earth.  We know, at least in Spring, that truly we live in the light. We need the light, to live.

Sometimes, as on that first Easter morning, the light actually changes people. Listen to the testimony of Rosemarie Feeney Harding (cited in Rohr, 2025, March 27) who describes her experience of how the Light impacted her life:

“I can’t say exactly where the Light entered,” she writes, “where it started from. Suddenly, it was just there with me. A white light, bright enough that it should have hurt to look. But it didn’t hurt. In fact, as the Light grew and enveloped everything in the room, I felt the most astonishing sense of protection, of peace. It surrounded me and I was in it, so joyfully…. 

“The Light became a kind of touchstone in my life. It was so much love. Like an infinite compassion. At the same time it was something very precious and intimate. It awed me, really. And when I walked out of the room, everything looked different. Clear. Even later, outside the house, in my classes and at my job, everything looked sharper. It was like a heightened sense of presence. Almost a shine.  

“I do believe that whole experience put me on a path. And the Light stayed with me a long time. It gave me a sense of security and deep internal connectedness to God, I would say …

“As I moved away from my family and struggled for years … I needed the grounding and shelter and strength of that Light. There is something in there, in that profoundly embracing energy, that allows you to come out with a kind of forgiveness, an absence of animosity … Help. Encouragement. A deep, deep encouragement in this life …” (Harding & Harding, 2015, pp. 1-3).

Living in the light. I wonder what it would be like to always live in that light. What would change in your life? What good things you already have and are would come to the surface? What would you see in others?

One icebreaker question I’ve always enjoyed answering is: “If you could be one animal, what would it be and why?”


Image by Airwolfhound

If I were answering that question today, I think I’d like to be an Arctic Tern. You see, these terns “spend the summer in the Arctic when the sun is available for almost 24 hours. Then they fly south during the Northern Hemisphere winter to join the summer season of the Antarctic regions, where the sun is also visible almost 24 hours a day.

“Scientists believe they follow the sun because the sun illuminates the water allowing them to find fish during their travel. As a result, Arctic Terns are believed to experience more daylight in their lifetime than any other creature. Right now is the time of the Arctic Tern’s return migration to the Arctic” (Coman, 2025, March 27).

Birders at Point Pelee and other bird sanctuaries on the migration routes over Ontario are actively lifting their heads to the heavens these days! And they are excited for what they might see. Surprise!

A large part of why Easter joy surprises us is that it is unexpected. The joy comes as a surprise because of the tough road that preceded Easter joy. Living in the light is so special because this joy grew out from the ashes of loss, of death. What seemed certain and final. It’s the contrast. It’s the surprising, unexpected answer to what was an impossible possibility.

The Christian narrative is essentially a rising-from-the-dead story that plays out in the wake of history’s darkest hours. Therefore, Easter brings a message of hope.

One of the most famous of these stories of emerging from history’s darkest hours is the miracle of the seed birthed in the inferno. It is the story of the seeds of Hiroshima, “when in the aftermath of the atomic fireball in August of 1945, the city staggered through never-before-witnessed devastation.

“As survivors scrounged for unburned rubble to try to patch together homes, word came from a prominent physician that nothing would grow there for seventy years, with all flora and fauna incinerated across a [near 10-kilometre] swath.

“[But] barely a month after the bombing, though, rising from the charred bits [about a kilometre] from the explosion’s radioactive center, red canna lilies and delicate wildflowers began to sprout and bloom amid the wasteland …

“What had happened, in part, was that the bricks of Hiroshima had been formed of clay from the mountains, where wildflowers grew. Walls throughout the city secretly had been harbouring long dormant seeds. And in the cataclysm of the bomb, the explosive power split open the seeds, and the mountain flowers sprouted [under the sun’s light].

“Out of horror, erupted beauty. [Out of darkness, blossomed new life exposed finally to the light.] Ever since, the survivor seeds of Hiroshima have been revered in Japan as ‘the faith that grew out of the ashes’” (Mahany, 2023, p. 39).

This message of new life is for us. Because now that Jesus is alive, every message about Jesus is a message about all of us (Rohr, 2025, April 20). All creatures on earth – including the birds and the seeds and the animals and us – all of creation – shout for joy when out of the tomb of suffering and death we can sprout, we can grow, we can fly.

Spread your wings. Follow the Sun. Live in the light.

For Christ is risen! Alleluia! Christ is risen indeed!

References:

Barnhill, C. (Ed.). (2005). A year with Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Daily meditations from his letters, writings, and sermons. Harper One.

Coman, S. (2025, March 27). Streams of Living Justice [Blog]. Lutherans Connect. https://streamsoflivingjustice.blogspot.com/2025/03/day-20.html

Harding, R. F. & Harding R. E. (2015). Remnants: A memoir of spirit, activism, and mothering. Duke University Press.

Mahany, B. (2023). The book of nature: The astonishing beauty of God’s first sacred text. Broadleaf Books.

Rohr, R. (2025, April 20). A universal message: Celebrating resurrection. [Website]. Daily Meditations, Center for Action and Contemplation. https://cac.org/daily-meditations/a-universal-message/

Rohr, R. (2025, March 27). A light that sustains: Centering, silence, and stillness [Website]. Daily Meditations, Center for Action and Contemplation. https://cac.org/daily-meditations/a-light-that-sustains/

A gateway at the edge

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Photo by Martin Malina (Kalaloch Beach, WA, August 16, 2022)

Today, we stand with the women and disciples at the foot of the cross. We have arrived at the end of our Lenten pilgrimage. Or so we may feel.

We have come now to the base of the hilltop of Golgotha. We have come to the edge. We’ve made it.

We may have been carrying a heavy burden—our own cross. What do you bring? What have you carried? Maybe at this point you realize you can carry it no longer? Because the weight of it is just too much. Because, while at the start of this journey you thought perhaps you could carry it all, you now realize your own limits, your own complicity, your own misguided perceptions, your own sin.

“We come to the edge, when what we hold cannot be contained” (Mahany, 2023, p. 52), when we have to finally lay it down.

Golgotha stood at the edge of the city of Jerusalem. In order to leave the city, or enter it, you had to pass through the place crucifixion, of death. There is no bypass where truth is concerned. Pilate sought refuge in argument and exercising power — that was his bypass. “What is truth?” (John 18:38) he quipped, retreating into abstraction and perceived safety of his privilege and power.

“What is truth?” Jesus’ answer to Pilate? Watch me. Watch what I do. Watch the power of God’s love in the actions of Simon who will carry my cross (Luke 23:26), in the centurion’s cross-side confession (Matthew 27:54). Watch the power of God’s love in those who wait at the edge of the hilltop and witness the day turn to night (Mark 15:33), the curtain in the temple being torn in two (Luke 23:45). Watch the power of God’s love in the grace shown by Joseph to provide a tomb for my body (Luke 23:50-53). Watch what God does, then …

Jesus knew his path. Jesus’ path led through the challenge, the suffering, the cost – not around it. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the famous Lutheran pastor who was executed by the Nazis 80 years ago this year for opposing Hitler, noted in one of his books, how Jesus fulfilled his call on earth.

But in this short reading, Bonhoeffer extended the example of Jesus into our own lives, as his followers, should we seek peace for our souls at edge of our journeys.

He writes, “Our hearts make sure that we only keep the company of friends, of the righteous and the respectable. But Jesus was to be found right in the midst of his enemies. That is precisely where he wanted to be. We should be there too. It is that which distinguishes us from all other … religions. In them, the pious want to be with one another. But Christ wants us to be in the midst of our enemies, as he was; it was in the midst of his enemies that he dies the death of God’s love and prayed: Father, forgive them for they know not what they do. Christ wants to win his victory among his enemies. Therefore, do not withdraw, do not seclude yourselves; rather seek to do good unto all. Make peace, as far as it depends on you, with all” (Bonhoeffer cited in Barnhill, 2005, p. 31).

This was Jesus’ path, to be in the middle of the tension, the conflict among his enemies. This had always been his way.

For example, Jesus could have avoided Samaria on his way to Galilee. Samarians were in tension and at odds with Jews. Jesus could have gone around. But instead, he travelled through the region, some 150 kilometres on foot. No wonder the Gospel writer reports Jesus as “weary” (John 4:6) when he stops at the well to talk with the Samarian woman. Many others would have gone around. But for Jesus, it is always important to go through even though it cost him. The path is hard.

We have a famous path in Canada. And it isn’t easy to follow. The Path of the Paddle is a series of portages between lakes and rivers from the western edge of Lake Superior into the bush of Northwestern Ontario. The path is part of the Trans Canada Trail. In one of its hardest sections, where in order to travel when the water is not frozen, the trail must be negotiated at the height of bug season, soon upon us. Portaging is not for the faint of heart: each portage means traveling twice – once to carry the canoe, and the other time to carry the gear from one lake’s edge to the next.

This path was first charted by Indigenous people as the Anishinaabe Trail, before it became a major route for Europeans interested in the fur trade. Today, this path is being restored in the hope of re-establishing the original route as it once was.

The 1200-kilometre journey was made by Carrie and John Nolan ten years ago. It involved 120 portages, and it took them 58 days. It was certainly a test of their fitness, endurance and physical and mental stamina (Coman, 2025, April 11).

When we come to the edge, when what we hold can no longer be contained, tears will often fall. Is it any wonder that God turned to water when making our tears? We can go to the water’s edge, when what we hold can no longer be contained. The water’s edge, like at the foot of the cross, is the place to let it all out, to lay it all down, to let it go. The baptismal waters, our place of identity forming in Christ, is sacred, this holy edge. Where we can be honest, vulnerable, and let the tears roll.

I walked only a small portion of the Camino de Santiago in Spain – some 800 kilometres long. It is one of the oldest trails on the planet, dating back over a thousand years to the 9th century. Last year, in 2024, the Camino attracted almost half a million pilgrims.

If you are walking, it could take months to cross the Iberian Peninsula in northern Spain towards the destination. The destination? Pilgrims will say, it is the city of Santiago de Compostella, in the shrine of Saint James.

But increasingly over the years, more and more pilgrims go through Santiago and travel an extra 100 kilometres to a town called Fisterra, whose name literally means, “the end of the world.” This town lies on the coast along the Atlantic Ocean which at one point in history was deemed to be situated literally at the edge of the known world.

Santiago becomes a way point on a journey to a more significant edge where the horizon is limitless and points our vision upward. This extended journey does not end at the Cross but continues beyond the original destination to a more expansive vision beyond the hardship of the trail.

The Cross is not really the end point. That is why Good Friday is good. Because the Cross, while necessary to go through, is merely a gateway to the edge of a new world coming.

References:

Barnhill, C. (Ed.). (2005). A year with Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Daily meditations from his letters, writings, and sermons. Harper One.

Coman, S. (2025, April 11). Streams of living justice [Blog]. Lutherans Connect. https://streamsoflivingjustice.blogspot.com/2025/04/day-33.html

Mahany, B. (2023). The book of nature: The astonishing beauty of God’s first sacred text. Broadleaf Books.

Stripping away

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Photo by Martin Malina (Kalaloch Beach, WA, August 15, 2022)

At the end of the service tonight, we engage a ritual that has become a tradition in many churches on Maundy Thursday. We strip the altar.

We take away all the symbols, the candles, the silverware, the embroidery and fabric that are associated with our faith.

We do this in Holy Week – in the context of Jesus’ suffering and dying when everything he had was stripped away, not only his clothing, but his dignity as a human being. Maundy Thursday sets the stage in the grand narrative of Jesus’ Passion for Good Friday when he was nailed to the tree.

Theologian and American writer Brian McLaren writes about how one tree survives the hurricanes that seasonally batter his home state of Florida. “Many of our trees in Florida survive hurricanes by being flexible. They’re able to bend an amazing amount and spring back into shape. [But] One of my favourite trees,” he writes, “has a slightly different strategy.

“It’s called a ‘gumbo-limbo’ tree, and the way it survives a hurricane is that when the wind starts to blow, it just lets branches break off. It knows that if you can keep the trunk solid and stable, and you don’t get overturned by the wind, you can bounce back after the storm. And that’s what the gumbo-limbo tree does. It travels light through the storm. It lets go of everything that’s not essential to focus on for life” (McLaren, 2023).

If you keep the trunk solid and stable, you will find new life after the storm. What is that proverbial trunk in our lives? What was it, in Jesus’ life? What was that power that allowed him to let go of everything and be stripped of all his humanity?

The mandate to love sets the stage for this proverbial stripping. The mandate to love is the command of Jesus we hear on Maundy Thursday – the night he washed the feet of his disciples, shared the meal with them and led them to the garden to pray. This mandate to “love one another just as I have loved you” (John 13:34-35) is the fuel. It is the trunk of the tree: God’s eternal, unconditional, loving presence for all people. But it comes at a cost.

A quote I came across this past week has stuck, the wise saying of a desert mother from early Christianity. She said, “the hardest world you have leave behind is the one you carry right inside your heart” (Lane, 2024). What you carry inside your heart, it would seem to me, is precious. Whatever you hold in your heart is integral to what you perceive to be an important part of your identity. It defines who you are in the world.

This is important stuff. And it struck me that on Maundy Thursday as we strip away the paraments and silverware from the altar, we’re not talking about the knick-knacks, dusty boxes in basements and stuff we keep in storage rental units.

We’re talking about what we would consider the important, life-altering, life-defining stuff. But these are still the branches, not the trunk. You might say what the gumbo-limbo tree does in a hurricane is counter-intuitive, even unreasonable, impossible for us to do. Why would we let go of what we feel most attached to?

It’s significant that the Garden of Gethsemane was the last place to which Jesus led his disciples before he was arrested, before the dominos began to fall in the Passion narrative, a story that then escalates towards Jesus’ arrest, prosecution, persecution and execution.

Jesus led his disciples to the garden to pray. There is a form of prayer whose aim is finding inner peace and contentment in the storm.

Yet this peace cannot be experienced without a painful letting go. It’s a practice, you could say, of stripping away the non-essentials. Prayer is becoming aware of God’s grace and life of Christ with us and for us. And this prayer needs no words from us.

For the desert mothers and fathers, prayer was understood as practising a way of taming the ego’s desires for being front-row-and-centre in all things, including our conversation with God.

So, instead of doing all the talking in this relationship of prayer, we practice doing all the listening. Instead of trying to change God’s mind, prayer is about allowing God to transform the mind and heart of the one doing the praying. In this practice of letting go we allow God to change our mind about what is truly going on around us. We let God change our mind about the reality right in front of us, a reality which we usually dismiss, avoid or even distort.

In our prayer tonight and throughout these coming three holy days, may we practice letting go. In the way of Jesus, may we learn to be like the gumbo-limbo tree, especially during the storms of our lives. Because as long as the trunk remains stable and firmly planted in the ground, new life will surely find a way again.

“And now, faith, hope, and love remain … and the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:13).

References:

Lane, B. (2024). “The Desert Tradition,” The Living School: Essentials of Engaged Contemplation. Center for Action and Contemplation. www.cac.org.

McLaren, B. (2024). 2024 Daily meditations: Radical resilience [Video]. Center for Action and Contemplation.  https://cac.org/daily-meditations/2024-daily-meditations-theme-radical-resilience/

Wagamese, R. (2021). Richard Wagamese selected: What comes from spirit.

The cost of energy

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photo by Martin Malina (July 15, 2024) in Tofino, British Columbia

This year is the 80th anniversary of the death of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. After spending two years in prison, he was executed on April 9, 1945, just days before the end of the 2nd World War, for playing a key role in opposing the Nazis under Hitler.

Bonhoeffer’s life and death bear witness to the Cross. During this coming Holy Week we focus on the passion of Christ. And Bonhoeffer, like few other Lutherans in the last century, bears witness to the truth that we must first endure the cost of following Jesus to the Cross before celebrating the resurrection joy.

Bonhoeffer writes in A Testament to Freedom: “… if we would have a share in [the] glory and radiance [of Christ’s resurrection], we must first be conformed to the image of the Suffering Servant who was obedient to the death of the cross. If we would bear the image of his glory, we must first bear the image of his shame” (Barnhill, 2005, p. 107).

In other words, it costs something to be Christian in Canada. What is that cost? Perhaps the cost is our privilege, for the sake of one who is marginalized. Or maybe our pride, for the sake of respecting and dignifying another. Or our energy, for the sake of doing the right thing in the right moment. Our comfort, for the sake of exposing a harsh truth. It costs, to follow Christ.

One take away from our Sunday reflections throughout Lent about spiritual gifts and growth in faith, is that in order to develop our gifts so they can be a blessing for others, we need to cross to the other side – literally and symbolically. It’s easy to slip sideways on the pretense of growth. But for real growth to happen, we need to get out of our comfort zone and try something we’d sooner not.

The message of faith, nevertheless, is that the cost is worth it. Whatever it takes. Because the resurrection promise motivates us, inspires us, encourages us, and supports us. Because there is always grace, love, forgiveness. We believe in a God of second chances. We believe in a God who will never forsake us even in our moment of greatest need. Bonhoeffer hung on to that truth. It empowered him.

During Holy Week, we celebrate the persistence of God’s mercy despite stubborn obstacles. A major source of those obstacles resides in ourselves. Despite the self-incrimination of the convicted criminal hanging beside Jesus, Jesus’ final words to him, and the last words Jesus speaks to another human before he dies, is a word of mercy and promise (Luke 23:43): “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

God’s grace and mercy is our fuel for living. We need it. Because we will never get it right. We will miss the mark. We will stumble. But God does not give up on us. Despite all our mistakes, missteps, failures and self-doubt, God continues to nudge us forward through all the discomfort, risk-taking and vulnerability that we experience in being faithful servants of Christ. God’s grace and mercy is our energy source.

And that is why the Eucharist, the Holy Communion, is central to our Holy Week pilgrimage. It is at the table, the holy meal which we celebrate today and later this week on Maundy Thursday, when we affirm our deep and enduring connection with the living Lord Jesus.

And this connection is not just figurative or symbolic. But real, as well. This real connection gives us strength to carry on.

In 2019 a study published in Smithsonian revealed that some seeds discovered in Eastern France dated to Roman times, including the time not long after Jesus lived, in the 2nd century. It was discovered that these seeds had the same DNA as some types of contemporary wine grapes (Coman, 2024 December 10). 

In other words, some wines we drink today contain grapes with the same DNA as grapes in Jesus’ day when “on the night before he died” he took a cup and blessed it for his disciples to drink. This connection is real.

The cross, which now becomes our focal point in the days ahead, was made of wood and therefore is often referred to as ‘the tree’. In these last days we make our final leg of the Lenten pilgrimage where we will stop at the foot of the tree on Good Friday.

There is a Roman era tradition, in which to honour a special tree, wine was poured on their roots. It is no wonder then that in some legends the tree of crucifixion was a rowan tree whose berries look like droplets of blood (Mahany, 2023, pp. 45-47). The very fuel, energy source, is Christ’s blood shed for us.

We are connected, in a real sense, to Christ’s life source. We are connected through earthly elements that nourish, sustain and empower us to live and follow Jesus right to the very end. In following Christ’s mission on earth, we have what it takes.

Thanks be to God.

References:

Barnhill, C. (Ed.). (2005). A year with Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Daily meditations from his letters, writings, and sermons. Harper One.

Coman, S. (2024, December 10). Seeds of hope. Lutherans Connect. https://lcseedsofhope.blogspot.com/2024/12/day-9.html

Mahany, B. (2023). The book of nature: The astonishing beauty of God’s first sacred text. Broadleaf Books.

‘Patron’s Corner’: Multifaith Housing Initiative Ottawa

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As a patron of the Multifaith Housing Initiative (MHI) in Ottawa, I was asked to respond to the following question, published in their April 2025 newsletter in the ‘Patron’s Corner’ (https://mailchi.mp/multifaithhousing/april-newsletter).

MHI: “How does your faith community emphasize the value of community and belonging?”

RASPBERRYMAN: The Canadian Lutheran Church happened because of immigration. All Lutherans are immigrants. It’s just a question of what time in history the boats and planes from Europe and beyond arrived in Canada. Because we are an immigrant church, now by and large privileged in the established sense, our call is to embrace diversity in community.

The 16th century reformer Martin Luther’s a-ha moment happened when the words of Paul struck his heart. Scriptures, for example, from Ephesians: “For by grace we have been saved” (2:8) and from Romans: “Grace to you …” (1:7) emboldened Lutherans the world over to emphasize the role of God’s grace in all our relationships. Therefore, human divisions and merit do not define our relationships. Our unity in Christ, who is gracious, does. 

20th century Lutheran pastor and theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer, while imprisoned by Nazis at the end of the 2nd World War, wrote a book entitled “The Cost of Discipleship”. In it he emphasizes the communal aspect of following Jesus. He criticized what he called ‘cheap grace’ which happens when individuals fail to confess their sins against one another and God’s purposes, when God’s grace is reduced to an individual transaction rather than providing a path to transformation.

What Lutherans value in community is what makes grace transformative in our relationships – forgiveness, mercy, compassion and inclusion. It’s not an easy grace; it’s costly – to change and grow. Beginning in the 16th century and lasting to this day, Lutherans therefore embraced the reforming principle which became a motto for the Reformation church – in Latin, Ecclesia reformata semper reformanda – the reformed church always reforming.

Our immigrant identity in Canada, from a grace-centred approach, means that as we once came to this land centuries ago, so now, too, we are called to welcome and affirm newcomers to Canada in building communities of grace.

Surprised by new life: a funeral sermon

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Earla’s commitment to the altar guild attuned her to the seasons of the church year. The paraments and colours around the altar had to be changed when the seasons changed – from Christmas white to Epiphany green to Lenten purple to Easter white to Pentecost red, etc.

So, Earla would know we are now in Lent, and what that implied as far as the communion ware, flowers and colours that did or did not appear around the altar. She followed those rules, and advocated for them, faithfully.

And I broke a big one. Not intentionally. During a worship service I spilled half a bottle of communion wine on the new carpet in the chancel right after the renovations were completed 8 years ago. Earla, despite being a stickler for doing things right, showed me much compassion and grace. There wasn’t a hint of anger or frustration as she helped me clean up the mess behind the altar.

What strikes me in this season of Lent in which she spent her last days, are what the scriptures assigned to the church at this time reveal about God. Consistently the texts depict the disciples of Jesus and others gathered around a feast, a meal, at table. God’s message of love and grace in these texts are conveyed in, around and through eating and being at table for a meal:

The story of the fig tree (Luke 13:1-9) came to us the day after Earla died: Figs are mentioned a few times in the New Testament because figs were a staple food item in the Mediterranean – like potatoes are for us today. Then, last Sunday, the story of the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:1-3,11b-32) ends with the Father throwing a great feast with the fatted calf for the son that was lost but now was found.

And tomorrow in the Gospel (John 12:1-8) Jesus is anointed by Mary but not after we find the disciples gathered with Jesus’ friends Lazarus, Mary and Martha around a meal in their Bethany home. I hope you hear the reference to a meal in each of the first two verses from the Gospel:

1 Six days before the Passover Jesus came to Bethany, the home of Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. 2 There they gave a dinner for him. Martha served, and Lazarus was one of those at the table with him. 

Here these friends are gathered to eat together. But surprise! The Gospel emphasizes that Lazarus was there too. This is the Lazarus who died but whom Jesus raised from the dead (John 11). To show the reality of this new life, he is described as “one of those [eating] at the table.”

Lazarus is no ghost, no figment of whimsical imagination, no other-worldly vision flicking in and out of our line of sight. No. This is real flesh and blood, consuming and digesting the food everyone else is eating. God’s promise of new life comes by way of mealtime with friends and family.

Earla loved food. She loved her fish filets from McDonalds and hot fudge sundaes. She indulged in her bacon and processed foods. She was 95 years old! Eating was not only a personal pleasure but a reason to gather with others in the church. When she was able, I don’t think she missed a church potluck.

Like the Gospel which takes pains to convey the truth, the reality, of the resurrection – in this case, Lazarus – the promise of new life for us, new life in Christ, can encourage us on our life’s journey.

Because it isn’t over. Not for Earla. Not for us. Some things have certainly changed. Your grief bears witness to the fact that you will no longer relate to Earla in the ways that gave you much joy, that created wonderful memories and supported you in many different ways.

But while the relationship has now changed, it isn’t over. And there are abundant signs of this! Both the poinsettia given to Earla in hospital a year and a half ago, and the orchid plant that lay dormant for two years in Earla’s keep are reminders of the hope and promise of being surprised by the gift of new life.

After that first Christmas the poinsettia was all but destined for the compost pile. But it refused to wither and die. Contrary to anyone’s expectations, the leaves to this day have produced red leaves and remained healthy. It was one plant in Earla’s hospital room, on the windowsill, that drew our attention in amazement each time I visited.

And after two years of producing nothing, it was just this month that her tiny orchid plant decided to bring forth its majestic blooms. Who would have anticipated this?!

Their centre remains a violet/purply reminder of the journey of life on earth that will often include suffering and pain. But their frame dominates in Easter white – conveying the hopeful message of resurrection. And as you can see there are more buds to come! More surprises on the way!

Earla’s liturgical sensitivities are on display to this day as these plants from her continue to shout out that your beloved Earla sits today around the table. But now she sits at the banquet feast of heaven.

To welcome Earla at that heavenly feast, I am sure the heavenly hosts are serving it up in abundance: fish filets, bacon and hot fudge sundaes for everyone!

Gifts & Growth: Recover

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An episode during the first season of The Crown on Netflix depicts the controversial televised coronation of Queen Elizabeth in 1953. The TV monitors are all switched off in the moment when the archbishop approaches the Queen with the holy oil.

The Duke of Windsor explains that this is the most sacred part of the ritual. “When someone asks why the anointing is the holiest part of the ceremony, too holy even for it to be televised, the former king explains that the anointing is the moment when the divine is infused into Elizabeth’s human form. It’s when she is no longer just Elizabeth, but Queen Elizabeth II. The holy oil marks that transformation from only human to now also divine.

“The archbishop hesitates before making the sign of the cross with the oil on her chest, and then her forehead. This is the part of the coronation that converts her from a woman into a queen” (Watterson, 2019, p. 199).

In the 16th century Martin Luther talked about the ‘joyous exchange’ in which by taking on the sin of humanity on the cross, Jesus imputed divine righteousness onto humanity. Giving and receiving. Receiving and giving.

So, we don’t speak of either human or divine, or a one-way relationship, but rather the two becoming one, going both ways. The boundary between heaven and earth is not fixed. Earth and heaven are intermingled, because of Jesus.

And Mary. Thanks to the persistent grace shown by this woman of faith.

There is this passage from the Gospel of Philip discovered in 1945 which aligns with John’s Gospel story today of Mary anointing Jesus with expensive perfume made from nard, or oil (John 12:1-8): “To be anointed with oil is higher than being immersed in water. It is when we are anointed … that we become Christians.[Because] Christ was called Messiah [which literally means ‘the anointed one’]…” (Watterson, 2019, p. 199).

Jesus receives the gift of anointing through the persistence of Mary, who perseveres in her gift-giving despite Judas’s attempt to shame her. Grace knows no bounds, no obstacles. The anointing is an extravagance. Oil gets everywhere, seeps into all places even hidden places. It covers our whole body. In the famous prayer of King David in Psalm 23, the Psalmist declares: “Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.”

Mary knew what actions would convey heartfelt affection, honour and respect for Jesus. Mary is one biblical character who embodies the fullness of being human. She uses what she has been given. And she is the bridge connecting, in this passage, the divine love with human passion. She is the quintessential Recoverer.

copyright Martin Malina (2025)

Like the Receivers, Recoverers on the Gifts and Growth Wheel are good at spotting the need, reading the room, sensing the mood. But Recoverers are especially good at giving compassion and empathy which comes from the ability to pay attention to their social surroundings. And acting on the heart’s nudge.

Paying attention. In Hebrew, the command form of “pay attention” literally means, “put forth your heart” (Mahany, 2023, p. 24).

“Putting your heart forward” means doing something that reveals your truth. By your caring actions the world sees your heart full of love. The world sees who you are, truly. Your love is expressed genuinely, and you are not hiding it nor squandering it in denial. You don’t hold yourself back because you know a genuine, self-less love motivates you.

It’s never perfect, of course. We are human. Sometimes, our desire to care is manipulative when we don’t realize our acts of care really motivated by our need to be needed. In this case we are cheating by going to the nearest quadrant on our right, the thinking/re-imaginer’s side. Caring for another, in this case, becomes a self-justifying action more than a genuine other-centred care.

“Putting your heart forward” is also not without healthy boundaries. Boundaries are crossed and blurred when the Recovers on the Wheel first move to the Receivers closest to them on their left side. This mistake is about imposing one’s care on another presuming everyone needs the same thing from you in the same way.

In this case the act of caring does not respect another’s wishes sometimes not to be cared for in the way you want to give it. Recoverers must learn that sometimes, with some people, the greatest caring act is to accept you are not the one to offer them care.

For growth to happen, Recoverers have to cross the centre of the Gifts and Growth Wheel. Healthy Recoverers reflect this commitment to action, which Repairers are especially good at. But, for Recoverers, it is an action that serves another from the heart, the source of divine love.

Caring and repairing is obviously active. If we are helpers, it’s easy for us to give help. But it’s sometimes difficult to receive help. Yet, receiving help also first requires action. You can’t receive help without acting on it: Asking for help. Accepting the help. Expressing gratitude.

In the giving and receiving of genuine love and care, there is always opposition. We witness this in the Gospel for today. Judas here represents the authorities. And authoritarian regimes try to strip everything away from people, especially their empathy and grace.

My mother and her family left Poland with nothing. The communists had taken their home, their property, all their belongings. The authoritarian government impeded their freedom and bridled their speech.

But my Mom taught me from a young age that there are some things no one can ever take away from you. In my Mom’s case, it was education. But in a broader sense, it’s what is inside you – your values, your truth, your mind, your heart, your action, your beliefs. God. No one can take those things away from you.

Recoverers teach us the importance of knowing who you are, centering on what the great American teacher and theologian Howard Thurman called “the sound of the genuine” (McLaren, 2025 March 31) within us. Recoverers are non-conformists because with wisdom and courage, they engage acts of compassion in sometimes extraordinary ways, like Mary Magdalene did, never losing sight of who they are and what they truly value never mind what others think.

On this day we give thanks for the Marys in our lives who operate from hearts full of love and caring, whose passion sometimes unbridled will get them and us in trouble with the authorities. But whose actions nevertheless demonstrate the holy bridge between the divine and the human, perfectly embodied by Jesus whose heart of love never wanes for each one of us.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “The more we received [help], the more we were able to give; and the more meager our love for one another, the less we were living by God’s mercy and love. Thus God taught us to encounter one another as God encountered us in Christ. ‘Welcome one another, therefore, as Christ has welcomed you, for the glory of God’ (Romans 15:7)” (cited in Barnhill, 2005, p. 48).

May we learn and grow, receive and give love, listening always for the sound of God’s love ringing within us, anchoring us in Christ.

Thanks be to God.

References:

Barnhill, C (Ed.). (2005). A year with Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Daily meditations from his letters, writings, and sermons. Harper One.

Mahany, B. (2023). The book of nature: The astonishing beauty of God’s first sacred text. Broadleaf Books.

McLaren, B. (2025, March 31). Protecting our own light: Contemplative nonconformity. Richard Rohr’s Daily Meditations [Website]. https://www.cac.org

Watterson, M. (2019). Mary Magdalene revealed. The first apostle, her feminist gospel & the Christianity we haven’t tried yet. Hay House Inc.