In recent years, May has become a calendaring nightmare. The convergence of end-of-school, civic, and extracurricular events with beautiful weather means that even Mothers’ Day is far more frantic than she deserves. This is the month of end-of-year exams, graduations, performance recitals, dress up days, awards ceremonies, soccer tournaments, parties for kids unfortunate enough to have been born in this cruel season, crashing into Memorial weekend trips to the lake. Oh, and of course we also want to make sure we faithfully celebrate the Ascension so that we’re ready ten days later for all the Pentecost revelries.
Of course, I’m joking about that last bit. We don’t live in a time or place where the liturgical calendar is a factor in this conversation. The number and range of obligations outside of that are staggering. How much worse it feels it’s gotten since all the lockdowns ended! In fact, I’m proposing a swift, orderly change in name: from “May” to “Must.”
Stacked social obligations have always led me to dreaming of making my escape to a sleepy town in the Mediterranean and spending afternoons at the anti-Cheers, where nobody knows my name. Often the fantasy alone is enough to keep me going. I think a lot of us were taught to think of the afterlife in this kind of way – a sort of great escape of the spirit from the troubles of the body. A permanent vacation from life as a reward for surviving the harassment!
But this week, as we transition from the historic fact and implications of Christ’s resurrection to the future guarantee of our own resurrections, we’ll be challenged again on that idea. The question of what our bodies might be like in the New Creation pushes us to reckon with both the physicality and immediacy of our ultimate state in the present day. Channeling N.T. Wright, “Resurrection is great, but it’s not the end of the world!”
So, I hope to see you this weekend as we honor Christ (and mom, too!)