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Eucatastrophic Resurrection

Edited and reposted from Resurrection Sunday, 2013.

You know when you’re reading a story, especially a thriller or a mystery and there’s a lovely little (or big) twist at the end that is completely unexpected? It’s not where you thought the story was headed, not how you thought it would end, but it works. The ending or surprising climactic scene is something you never would have predicted, and at the same time it’s just what the story needed to tie or untie all the plot knots and make everything come out just right. The story, factually, and in mood and quality, succeeds.

Well, Jesus’s resurrection is sort of like that unforeseen but perfect ending. If I were the Author (thank God I’m not) of the story of creation, sin and redemption, I wouldn’t have been able to dream up the resurrection, not in a million years. My story, if I had been creative enough to write one at all, would have ended with the crucifixion. Jesus, a good man, lived and taught and died—an innocent sacrifice to the cruelty and blindness of both the Romans and the Jews. It’s a sad story, a tragedy, but perhaps one with a moral to it: we humans are hopelessly lost, and we have a tendency to kill those who tell the truth and demonstrate radical love and self-sacrifice.

'Opening of roadside tomb_0654' photo (c) 2007, James Emery - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/Maybe we’ll do better next time, having learned the lesson of Jesus. Probably not.

Jesus is dead at the end of my story. He’s really, truly dead, by the way; this isn’t the sort of story where the hero was only mostly dead but turns out to be revivable. A Roman spear was thrust into his side. His body was sealed in a tomb with a big rock across the entrance, a seal of some kind over the rock, and Roman guards posted outside so that no one could steal the body and pretend to resuscitate it. Jesus’s followers were scattered, demoralized, and discouraged.

And then—the surprise hits me in the face, if I haven’t become inured to the shock from having heard the story so many times. On Sunday some women go to visit Jesus’s tomb, and they meet an angel who tells them that Jesus is not dead. He’s alive!

Whoa, whoa, whoa—wait! You mean the story is that he didn’t really die; he just got badly injured, but he was able to recover and make his way out of the tomb. Or he was a magician with a magic protection coat that made spears and nails seem to pierce him but not really hurt him at all. You mean he became a ghost and appeared to people in a spirit form. Or he was just asleep and looked dead.

Nope, Jesus was dead, and now he’s alive again. Resurrected, as Christians term it.

Could you have predicted that the Author of the human story would have inserted himself into history, allowed himself to suffer and to be killed at the hands of his own creatures, and then . . . come alive again? JRR Tolkien invented the term “eucastrophe”, meaning “a dire situation which is nevertheless salvaged through some unforeseeable turn of events.” (Wikipedia, Eucatastrophe) A resurrection is a really unforeseeable turn of events.

But, and here’s the kicker, the resurrection makes the story work. Without the resurrection, we have a weak, powerless, probably dead god who maybe had good intentions? Without the resurrection of Jesus there is no resurrection, no life after death, for any of us either. Paul said in I Corinthians 5:17, “if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.” If Jesus is not alive, we have no hope of knowing God or having friendship with Him or making any kind of connection. He’s either dead or so distant that we can never get there from here. Without the resurrection, the whole story of human history, including the story of that “good man” Jesus, is essentially meaningless.

When I say story, I mean a True Story. If we are real, actual entities living in a real, fallen world full of real evil, we need a Real, Resurrected Savior who physically not only died but rose from the dead to reign over all things eternally.

And lo and behold, eucatastrophe!(I like that word), in a three-day turn of events I could never have scripted or invented or predicted, Jesus not only died and was buried, but he also rose from the dead and lives eternally. “Therefore he is able to save completely those who come to God through him, because he always lives to intercede for them.” (Hebrews 7:25)

We serve a living, creative God of eucatastrophic artistry and imagination. And we have a Risen Savior because of the story-making ability and sacrifice of that same God.

Hallelujah! Eucatastrophe! (Thanks, Tolkien, and with some intellectual indebtedness to my pastor’s sermon this morning.)

Funny Eggs

Dear friends, now we are children of God, and what we will be has not yet been made known. But we know that when Christ appears, we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is. I John 3:2

If Easter Eggs Would Hatch by Douglas Malloch

'Pisanki / Easter Eggs' photo (c) 2012, Praktyczny Przewodnik - license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/I wish that Easter eggs would do
Like eggs of other seasons;
I wish that they hatched something too.
For—well, for lots of reasons.
The eggs you get the usual way
Are always brown and white ones
The eggs you find on Easter Day
Are always gay and bright ones.

I’d love to see a purple hen,
A rooster like a bluebird,
For that would make an old bird then
Look really like a new bird.
If Easter eggs hatched like the rest,
The robin and the swallow
Would peek inside a chicken’s nest
To see what styles to follow.

The rooster now is pretty proud,
But wouldn’t he be merry
If roosters only were allowed
To dress like some canary!
And wouldn’t it be fun to catch
A little silver bunny!
If Easter eggs would only hatch,
My, wouldn’t that be funny!

Not to project too fine a point onto a simple imaginative poem, but how do we know what we might become when we are someday “hatched” into new resurrected bodies? We will be like Him, and we will be the continuing and eternal creation of a very creative God.

My, won’t that be funny!

Hymn to Christ

Edited and reposted from Easter, 2013.

“Who being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself and became obedient to death—even death on a cross. Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.” Philippians 2:6-11

Christian songwriter and artist Michael Card writes in his book (co-written with his wife, Susan), The Homeschool Journey: Windows into the Heart of a Learning Family:

“In Philippians 2:6-11 we find a wonderful passage of Scripture that was a hymn used in the worship services of the early church. Known as the “Carmen Christi” or “hymn to Christ” it is a song that first-century spies overheard the Christians singing at a time when the church was meeting in secret. It was a hymn which undoubtedly afforded them a measure of comfort in their trials because it offered a vision of Christ was and what he had accomplished.

In this hymn, Jesus’ incarnation is highlighted by its three central characteristics: servanthood, humility, and radical obedience. It is from this simple, ancient song that Susan and I derive our vision of who Jesus is and what he means to us. It is the vision that shapes our individual lives, our marriage, our family life, and even the way we choose to educate our children.”

Are we serving one another with humility and in obedience to Jesus Christ who gave himself for us? Are we waiting patiently on the Lord of all things in heaven and on earth, making ourselves like Him in our actions here on earth so that we can be with Him in heaven?

Now that’s an Easter goal that embodies the Christ-like

Easter Eggs

What about Easter eggs?

Do you have an Easter egg hunt at your house? What do you tell your urchins about Easter eggs? Who hides the eggs? What do you put inside? Or do they come already basketed to your front door? What do Easter eggs have to do with the celebration of Easter? Have you ever had an egg tree? What else do any of my readers have to suggest about Easter eggs?

Here’s a post on what we usually do with Easter eggs in Semicolon-land.

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

I first read Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities when I was in ninth grade. Three of us—Christina, Teresa, and I— wrote a chapter-by-chapter summary of the entire book, making our own little study guide to the novel as a school project. We did this before the age of personal computers and before any of us knew how to type. Type written nevertheless but means of the hunt and peck method, I can’t remember exactly what the finished product looked like—it did have a picture of a guillotine on the front— but it was a lot of work.

The themes of death, burial, imprisonment, rescue and resurrection are woven throughout Dickens’ tale set during the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. Doctor Manette is rescued from a living death inside the Bastille. Jerry Cruncher is a “resurrection man” who digs up dead bodies to sell them. Charles Darnay is rescued and recalled to life twice during the novel, once when he is on trial in England and again when he is headed for guillotine in France.

But the most vivid representation of death and resurrection comes at the end of the novel when the reprobate Sydney Carton gives up his life to save Charles and Lucy Darnay and to ensure their future together. Carton is walking down the street when he remembers these words from Scripture read at his father’s funeral long ago:

“I am the resurrection, and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die.”

Now, that the streets were quiet, and the night wore on, the words were in the echoes of his feet, and were in the air. Perfectly calm and steady, he sometimes repeated them to himself as he walked; but, he heard them always.

The night wore out, and, as he stood upon the bridge listening to the water as it splashed the river-walls of the Island of Paris, where the picturesque confusion of houses and cathedral shone bright in the light of the moon, the day came coldly, looking like a dead face out of the sky. Then, the night, with the moon and the stars, turned pale and died, and for a little while it seemed as if Creation were delivered over to Death’s dominion.

But, the glorious sun, rising, seemed to strike those words, that burden of the night, straight and warm to his heart in its long bright rays. And looking along them, with reverently shaded eyes, a bridge of light appeared to span the air between him and the sun, while the river sparkled under it.

The strong tide, so swift, so deep, and certain, was like a congenial friend, in the morning stillness. He walked by the stream, far from the houses, and in the light and warmth of the sun fell asleep on the bank. When he awoke and was afoot again, he lingered there yet a little longer, watching an eddy that turned and turned purposeless, until the stream absorbed it, and carried it on to the sea.- “Like me!”

A trading-boat, with a sail of the softened colour of a dead leaf, then glided into his view, floated by him, and died away. As its silent track in the water disappeared, the prayer that had broken up out of his heart for a merciful consideration of all his poor blindnesses and errors, ended in the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.”

On Good Friday, when we are in the midst of death and sin and darkness, it does sometimes seem a if “Creation were delivered over to Death’s dominion.” A blogging friend sent out a tweet earlier today saying that he had “difficulty ‘pretending’ on Good Friday that Jesus is dead.” Of course, Jesus isn’t dead, but as far as imagining the feeling of despair and “being delivered over to death”, I have no trouble whatsoever. Sometimes things in this world are very dark, and the very hope of the resurrection of Jesus Christ and our eventual resurrection with Him is all that keeps me from utter despair.

Thank God for Resurrection Sunday!

Happy Valentine’s Weekend

A Valentine’s Day Cake

Recommended movie for Valentine’s Day: Marty.

Real Romance for Grown-up Women.

Anatomy of a Marriage: Books about Love and Marriage.

To My Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet, 1678.

Love Links, Lists, and Quotes.

More recommended novels about love and marriage:
The Love Letters by Madeleine L’Engle.
Secret Keeper by Mitali Perkins
Random Harvest by James Hilton
Green Mansions by WH Hudson. ““Our souls were near together, like two raindrops side by side, drawing irresistibly nearer, ever nearer; for now they had touched and were not two, but one inseparable drop, crystallised beyond change, not to be disintegrated by time, nor shattered by death’s blow, nor resolved by any alchemy.”
Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Yes. Heathcliff and Cathy were actually the worst of lovers –capricious, unfaithful while remaining bonded to one another, but let’s not quibble. “I am Heathcliff!” says Cathy, and what better description of the marriage of two souls, for better or for mostly worse, is there in literature?
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. Jane and Mr. Rochester are as radically faithful and loving in their own way as Cathy and Heathcliff imagine themselves to be. And they actually get together before they die, surely an advantage for lovers.
Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy are the epitome of lovers in tension that finally leads to consummation.
Gaudy Night by Dorothy Sayers. Lord Peter Wimsey and Harriet Vane are such a hesitant, battle-scarred pair of lovers that they almost don’t get together at all, but that’s what makes the series of romance-within-a mystery novels that culminates in Gaudy Night so very romantic. They’ve used the same formula in TV series ever since, but Sayers is much better than any Remington Steele (Laura and Remington) or Cheers (Sam and Diane). And Ms. Sayers was even able to write a credibly interesting epilogue novel in Busman’s Honeymoon, which is better than the TV writers can do most of the time.
At Home in Mitford by Jan Karon. Who says love is only for the young? Father Tim and Cynthia make it through thick and thin and through five or six books, still in love, still throwing quotations at one another. They’re great lovers in the best sense of the word.

Baker’s Dozen: 13 Books I Got for Christmas

All I really wanted for Christmas was books, books for my library and for my personal reading. So that’s what I got, and a lovely set of books they are:

1. The Father Brown Reader II: More Stories from Chesterton, adapted by Nancy Carpentier Brown. Doesn’t this sound delicious? Chesterton’s Father Brown stories, adapted for middle grade readers.

2. Pancakes, Pancakes! by Eric Carle. The edition I got is a small, child-sized book. Just lovely.

3. The Tiny Seed by Eric Carle.

4. Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown by Maud Hart Lovelace. We’re big Betsy-Tacy fans here, but I somehow lost my copy of this book in the series.

5. How To See an Apple Pie and See the World by Marjorie Priceman.

6. The Gardener by Sarah Stewart. A Caldecott Honor book.

7. The Child’s Gifts: A Twelfth Night Tale by Tomas Blanco.

8. The Black Star of Kingston by S.D. Smith. Prequel to The Green Ember.

9. Joy: Poet, Seeker, and the Woman Who Captivated C. S. Lewis by Abigail Santamaria.

10. The Fellowship: The Literary Lives of the Inklings: J.R.R. Tolkien, C. S. Lewis, Owen Barfield, Charles Williams by Philip and Carol Zaleski.

11. Consider This: Charlotte Mason and the Classical Tradition by Karen Glass.

12. Our Island Story: A History of Britain for Boys and Girls, from the Romans to Queen Victoria by H.E.Marshall.

13. Come Rain or Come Shine by Jan Karon.

I’m looking forward to reading the books that are new to me and placing the picture books in my library.

Christmas in Leipzig, Germany, c. 1735

The Twenty Children of Johann Sebastian Bach by David Arkin.

As a part of a large donation to my library of ex-library books, I found this wonderful book about Bach and his family. The author says that of the twenty children (by two successive wives), seven did not live. So, that leaves thirteen little Bachs to learn to sing and play music and compose music. It must have been a delightful household.

The book mentions Christmas:

“Most wonderful of all were the times when the family gathered together at holidays with their friends. Then the immortal music of all the Bachs would ring out for the earth and heavens to hear. Perhaps they would sing the Christmas Oratorio, or a cantata, or maybe they would just make up music as they went along.”

Bach’s Christmas Oratorio was composed in 1734, so that’s why I dated this Christmas post 1735. I think this celebration of music and Bach and his family would be a great read at any time of the year. The illustrations by author David Arkin are lovely and detailed pencil drawings of all the Bachs and their musical activities. David Arkin, by the way, was the father of actor Alan Arkin, and he wrote the lyrics to Black and White, a hit pop song recorded most successfully by Three Dog Night in 1972.

(So after writing this post, I went over to youtube and listened to some Three Dog Night: Black and White, The Road to Shambhala, Old Fashioned Love Song, Never Been to Spain, Joy to the World. Funny how a book about Bach can lead to a 70’s pop binge listen.)

Christmas in Florida, 1950

From the book, The Seminole Indians by Sonia Bleeker:

“Florida, of course, does not have a white Christmas. Usually Christmas Day is bright and warm. Everywhere among the Seminole settlements Christmas trees stand gaily next to the open chickees, their bulbs glittering in the warm sun. Everyone rises early, even though men, women, and children have been up late on Christmas Eve enjoying family reunions and gossip.

Before the holiday, the little sewing machine on the floor of each chickee throughout the settlements and reservations has been going full blast. The mother, or a little girl by her side, cranks the handle of the machine hour after hour, stitching yards and yards of bright-colored strips of cotton cloth. The Seminole have an excellent eye for arranging colors. They combine red and blue with yellow green, orange, deep red, rose, purple, and white. The colors are not thrown together at random. They follow a set pattern, and the Seminole women are extremely clever in designing artistic color combinations. Each strip has a different design; in some, the bright colors make a zigzag pattern. The mother sews and fits these strips into skirts for herself and her daughter and shirts for husband and son. Now gay new clothes are ready for the holidays. By Christmas Eve the sewing machines are all covered and will remain idle until after the New Year. Everyone is dressed in his best clothes.”

Christmas in Crawford Falls, Oregon, 1963

Today’s Christmas vignette is from the verse novel, Crazy by Linda Vigen Phillips, about a teenager named Laura who must cope with her mother’s bipolar disorder in an era when mental illness was a taboo subject. I’m not sure how far we’ve moved toward openness and understanding of mental illness and mentally ill people in the interim, but the book portrays the issues and the possible approaches to healing and resolution quite well.

Before everyone gets here, Mother and Daddy
will have her traditional oyster stew
while I stick to peanut butter and jelly.
Daddy will tell us again
how they had lutefisk and lefse on the farm
in Bemidji when he was a boy.

When everybody arrives we’ll gather in the small
living room, glowing with Christmas lights and candles.
I’ll get down on the floor and play with the kids
crowded around the tree.
Each of them will find a present with their name on it,
little junky toys from Woolworth’s I wrapped myself.
The adults will get louder and merrier
with each round of Christmas cheer,
and I will take pictures
with my Brownie Starfish camera.

I wonder
if nervous breakdowns
money worries
alcoholic tendencies
or stormy relations
will bleed through the negatives.

But for this moment
Christmas Eve is aglow
as it should be.