Easter and the Again Adventure

One word can speak volumes.  Recently, I taught a lesson to my ESL writing students in China about the power of adverbs when used judiciously and in moderation.  Consider the difference between, “I love you” and “I love you slightly.”  Whoa.  That’s a difference as vast as an ocean.  And how about this one? “We understand each other” versus “We seldom understand each other.”  That’s a difference larger than a galaxy.  One small adverb can change everything.

In my mind, that’s exactly what happens in the Apostles’ Creed: “On the third day he rose again from the dead.”  He rose “again?”  What on earth does that mean?  Are we to believe that Jesus died and then rose . . . frequently?  Or at least more than once?  The gospels certainly don’t suggest any such repetition. 

Seeing Is Believing

Often, we don’t see what’s in front of us.  Decades ago, my parents had their kitchen redone. I wasn’t living with them at the time, and didn’t tell me about their reno project.   The next time I visited, I didn’t even notice.  The cabinets were completely different, new appliances had been added, and fresh paint and wallpaper were on the walls.  I didn’t notice any of it.  I guess that’s because when I arrived, I didn’t expect to see anything new.  So, I didn’t. 

For me, that one little adverb in that one little line of the creed – “again” – carries with it entire universes of meaning, none of which I’m likely to get my head around this side of the grave.  There’s too much mystery in that one little adverb, too much latent force in the word, “again.”

Rebirth As Revelation

Last month, the swallows made their way back to Capistrano again, like they do every year in March.  In 2061, those drawing breath at the time will be able to see Halley’s Comment with the naked eye again, something humans have been able to do every 75 years at least since its first known observation in 239 B.C.   The aurora borealis is dazzling the arctic sky now between 5:00 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. with its spectacular northern lightshow and will continue to do so between March and September again next year like it has done for eons. 

As I write this, the sun is poised atop its celestial abode nursing all life on earth with the mysterious milk we call light, just as it did yesterday and will again tomorrow.  Caterpillars are gift-wrapping their tomorrows with a homespun shroud that will soon birth them into butterflies again, just as they did this time last spring and this time millions of years ago and will again every year the planet continues to twirl.  Right now, animals throughout this hemisphere are being roused from hibernation, and newborn bears, bees, box turtles, and squirrels are again populating a post-winter world, just like they’ve done for millions of years and will continue to do so as long as their planetary home agrees to welcome their arrival.

The Promise of Resurrection

The word that people of faith use talk about the “again adventure” we call life is resurrection.  We experienced it in its most powerfully unique form in the person of Jesus.  But that “again experience” isn’t just one moment in time over 2,000 years ago.  It’s every moment. Or at least, it has the potential to be.

Often, we don’t see what’s in front of us.  Sometimes, when we don’t expect to see anything new, we simply don’t.  “On the third day he rose again from the dead.”  Perhaps this Easter is the perfect time to recognize that we are celebrating more than something that happened in the past.  We are celebrating the very substance and structure of a universe that sings the promise of our own rebirth if we but pause to listen.  One small adverb can change everything.