I have an Easter memory from years ago. I was living in
Washington, DC, and that year was a low point in my life. My older sister had
recently died and both of my brothers were seriously ill; my best friend was
leaving town, and on top of that I was questioning my work.
In my journal that April I wrote, “Am I depressed?” When I
read those pages now I laugh and shake my head. “Depressed?” That I even had to
ask. In that long year I thought I’d never laugh again, just as I thought I’d
never again feel love, the joy of easy friendship, or the satisfaction of good
work.
I went to church that Easter out of both habit and
desperation. I had grown up in a church going family. It was what we did. And
so to honor the family that I was losing I went. I chose a big downtown church
for Easter services—one with hundreds in the congregation--not daring to visit
a smaller church where I might have to speak to people or be embarrassed by my
own tears. I wanted the paradoxical safety and anonymity of being in a
crowd.
The minister that Easter Sunday said many things that I
don’t remember but one sentence has stayed with me all these years. He said,
“We live in a Good Friday world…” That I
understood. A Good Friday world is a world full of suffering, questioning,
unfairness, trouble, mistakes, hurts, losses and grief. That was certainly
confirmation of my life that day. “But”, he continued, “We are Easter people.”
Those words stopped me cold. I was stunned to be reminded that painful morning
that there was something other than what I was feeling.
My life was not instantly transformed; his words did not
change the course of my brothers’ illness; nor give me answers to my questions.
But the idea of being “Easter people” gave me a pause in my grief and the
teeniest hope that there really did exist something other than pain.
Today all of the things that hurt so much back then have
changed. As my brothers died friends came forward to help. I began to write and
publish. Months later I fell in love and moved to upstate New York where a new
life began with new friends, new work and yes, of course, new problems.
What strikes me now is
that this believing in “Easter” in the midst of “Good Friday” is as much about
being an American as it is about being Christian. Americans are, by character, a people of
reinvention. There is an extra layer of intention that we bring to “new life” that isn’t
true even in other predominately Christian cultures. As Americans we are future oriented, we look
forward not back, and we are, for the most part, a culture of optimistic,
hopeful people.
The gift from that Easter service many years ago was the
reminder that we are, by religion or culture, a people who believe in
possibility. When our hearts are shattered we are sometimes shocked to discover
that there is joy as well as pain inside. Out of the ashes of our mistakes, from our defeats and even our despair,
we rise again in better lives.