[Firstumemo] Memo: Making Space for Resurrection

[Memos from Rev. Barbara Merritt and Rev. Tom Schade]

M I N I S T E R ' S   M E M O

"Making Space for Resurrection"

It is true in my yard. Even though a thorough raking was done of the fallen
leaves in November, over the course of the winter the wind and the elements
have a way of returning an impressive amount of debris back under the
bushes, and onto the flower beds. Raking all of this away is a wonderful
spring exercise. Under dead and decomposing leaves one discovers fresh green
shoots seemingly undeterred by the thick layer of dark, decaying vegetation.
Robert Frost wrote a simple poem about the work of this season. The first
verse of “The Pasture” reads:
I’m going out to clean the pasture spring;
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away
(And wait to watch the water clear, I may):
I shan’t be gone long. – You come too.
The poet describes the necessity of a seasonally satisfying task: making the
space for clear, clean water to flow. And he invites us to accompany him. “I
shan’t be gone long.” This is not a backbreaking, all-day assignment. Just a
few minutes of effort will return an important water source to usefulness
and clarity.
So it is with our lives. One of the most impressive pieces of information
that I learned, while on sabbatical in India in February, began with a
question about prayer. A young woman asked the spiritual teacher, “What is
the appropriate attitude when you sit in meditation?” And he replied, “You
have to learn to relax and let go.” When she asked him how exactly to do
that, he smiled and said something like, “You can’t relax in meditation if
you don’t lead a relaxed life. You have to consistently make choices about
how you wish to live. Only when you are relaxed will you be able to notice
and appreciate the small pleasures of nature and friendship and beauty. A
relaxed life is a tremendous help to your spiritual life.”
My mouth fell open. I was astonished! Being someone who moves quickly, who
is always over-scheduled and who is completely at home with frantic activity
and multi-tasking, it had never even occurred to me that the peace I sought
in prayer might be affected by the pace of my ordinary existence. In
retrospect, it should have been obvious that a racing mind and a racing body
would have some difficulty screeching to a halt on a meditation cushion.
Similarly, an hour in church on Sunday will only have a limited capacity to
re-focus our attention on what is most essential, if we’ve spent every other
waking moment with distractions, trivialities and agitation.
Every day we need to clear some space on our schedule. The debris needs to
be moved off our desk and off our calendars. We need to pencil in, “I shan’t
be gone long
I’ll only stop to rake the leaves away.” Who knows what kind of
miraculous new life will be uncovered? We might be so busy in accomplishing
our mundane assignments that we’ve completely lost track of the goals of our
life and the reasons we work so hard.
In New England in the early spring, nature seems to be in collusion with the
divine, virtually shouting for us to pay attention. What looks like old dead
branches starts to swell with buds. Crocus and daffodils seem to appear out
of nowhere. Suddenly you can smell the sweetness of the earth. The light
increases. The air warms up.
Resurrection isn’t a belief or a concept. It is a reality that invites our
participation. Whether we experience this resurrection in a walk through the
forest or by joining with the Hallelujah Chorus on Easter morning, all of us
are invited to make space in our routines for that which promises to restore
us to health and wholeness. “You come too.” This journey is worthwhile.

                                                                            
        Barbara
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