Happy (Easter) Sunday Reader,

I wasn’t raised religious. In fact, my home was very anti-religion. My mother had been raised Protestant, converted to Judaism for her first husband, and began adamantly identifying as an Atheist by the time I came along. My stepfather too, a man of science, had little time for spiritual leanings, and indeed no time for the seemingly backward beliefs and traditions that accompanied religion. We were a feminist household, social activists, hippies, academics.

Christmas was about Santa. Easter about the Easter Bunny.

I joked about being saved by Jesus… I was 25 when I stupidly paddled out to surf waves way beyond my ability and had to be rescued by a local who, as I thanked him profusely, told me his name was Jesus. It became a go-to story in my lets-laugh-at-religion shtick.

It wasn’t until I was older, almost 40, when, along the path of my lifelong search for meaning and peace, someone directed me to the Gospel of Mary Magdalene… and suddenly Christianity enthralled me… what if it wasn’t about sin and guilt and patriarchy? (I have a Right Wing Christian Fundamentalist uncle so my view was pretty skewed)

The first book I read was Mary Magdalene Revealed: The First Apostle, Her Feminist Gospel & the Christianity We Haven’t Tried Yet by Meggan Watterson. I reference it often - although less so these days as I wish Watterson would use her position as a feminist Harvard Divinity scholar to speak up for the rights of Palestinians… but alas, even the best educated among us can sometimes fail to truly embody the teachings of Jesus.

The teachings of Jesus... From Watterson’s book, to my Feminist Religious studies at the University of Ottawa, followed by my Master’s in Counselling & Spirituality at St. Paul University... Very quickly, and seemingly all of a sudden, I was learning this incredible story of a charismatic, pointedly feminist prophet who had devoted his life to spreading the word… the word of Love.

This was not the Christianity I had heard about.

This was a Christianity that actually felt like truth.

Everything I learned seemed to suggest a very different history than the one most Christians speak of - one where Jesus and Mary Magdalene are equals, partners; one where the truth is found in our hearts, not in an external God; one where love leads the way.

And now for resurrection… Watterson’s book includes a simple line of scripture pulled from the Gospel of Philip, a simple teaching that changed my life:

What you say, you say in a body; you can say nothing outside this body. You must awaken while in this body, for everything exists in it: Resurrect in this life.

This was the solace I so desperately needed. I had been living a life with depression as a frequent visitor. I believed I was broken, for who falls into darkness again and again but the weakest of us?

Yet here, in this religious text, this text that is supposed to mean so much, to guide us, to inform us, to inspire us… right here in black text on white paper it told me:

Resurrect in this life.

Perhaps I was not broken. Perhaps resurrection is part of the journey.

Like the natural world around us, we are meant to decay, and come alive again.

We are supposed to allow the winter to lead us into darkness because the spring will always arrive with its fresh growth.

We have this ongoing capacity to reinvent - to grow, to bloom, to fall apart, to decay, and then to grow and bloom again.

It was clear in my own life. Depression had taken me down so many times, and then months or years later a new version of me would emerge - a stronger, wiser, more seasoned new self.

Resurrected.

I believe now resurrection is possible for all of us, meant for us even. I pray the United States will resurrect. That what we are seeing now is a period of decay and destruction that will be followed by regrowth - wiser and stronger.

We can all go dark, and rise again.

What else could these words mean? Resurrect in this life.

What else could it mean other than the kindest acknowledgement of this human tendency to find ourselves in darkness, just to rise again?

Depression.

Illness.

Divorce.

Burnout.

Darkness happens. To the best of us.

And so, at this time of year, with blooms bursting from the soil and buds on the trees, we are reminded that we all get an opportunity for fresh growth. We can all rise again, no matter to what depth we have fallen.

We will always rise again. With love. With care. We will rise again. We will resurrect.

In this life. In this body. There is no other way.

With love,

Parrish
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P.S. If you haven’t registered yet, come celebrate this season of resurrection and growth in the Spring Series of Sacred Pages. We start in a few days, ready to harness the energy of rebirth.

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