Sunday, April 08, 2012

My Own Personal Tomb and the Transcendence

Every once in a while, certain realities will fan the flames of my depression and leave me with a pervasive and unshakable sense of dread, malaise, and elevated angst. This week, I was forced to stare deep down into the abyss of my social and economic statuses, and I couldn't shake this foreboding sense of piercing death.

Wrought on by mitigating circumstances, by unthinking words, by a merciless, cruel, and selfish world and its systems of economic shititude, and by my own carelessness and purposeful ignorance, I sweat blood. I lunged after my would-be captors and lobbed off ears. I spit upon and whip and flog my own salvation. I thrice deny those I most love.

Out of fear and anger, I put myself through a false and illegal trial and found myself guilty of the most blasphemous crimes. I hung, bleeding and asphyxiating, with millions of victims of empire and necessity.

And I jeered and cried at the spectacle of it all.

I was going through the pain and anger and frustration of the passion - for a short period of time. On Sunday morning, I arose, renewed, refreshed, rejuvenated. Resurrected.

And I realize that what I went through as a tourist, others - billions of others - reside in some way most of the year.

But there's something special about the Spring, about the fresh hope of life that Easter represents and epitomizes for Christians. This isn't just about me.

The earliest Christians lived the post-resurrection period in gleeful community - rejecting war and violence, throwing aside their swords for plows. They saw fit to share food, resources, sufferings in order to alleviate the private, public, communal crucifixions their neighbors were facing every day.

Angel of the Resurrection

I think of my friend who tells me that Easter is a difficult day for her. It reminds her of loss. And how she just wants to be with her friends-turned-family. And I pray that I may be resurrection for her.

I think of my clients, who struggle with a cruel economic and elitist academic world when they seek a better life for themselves and their families. And I pray that I may be a sign of resurrection for them.

I think of the two neighborhoods I border now - the segregated impoverished un- and under-employed working class black neighborhood and the affluent mixed-race historic suburb across the street. And I pray that I may discover how I can exemplify the resurrection while here.

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