A friend of mine recently emailed a New York Times article lamenting, “Anybody who knew the old Chapel Hill knows that now it’s gone to hell.” The writer’s complaints included the traffic, construction and crowds. This article was written in 1972.
There is tension inherent in the idea of progress. In many ways, success is measured by growth. Yet, while acknowledging the benefits of growth, many of us also long for a simpler past, a bygone era we may exaggerate in our minds as “the golden years.”
And not only that, there are people who would say that not just Chapel Hill but the entire world has gone to hell.
The truth is that climate change imperils all of life as never before. The constant threat of nuclear war threatens our annihilation.
At the same time, medical and technological advances have increased life expectancy for billions of people, and now the smallest percentage of the human population lives in poverty than ever before in human history.
It is truly the best of times and the worst of times.
As for you, gentle reader, you may be celebrating a new child or grandchild. You may be mourning the loss of a loved one. You may be experiencing both new life and loss in large and small ways. The brutal and beautiful are part of our everyday experience.
For Christians, this is the holiest week of the year when we remember the last days of Jesus’ life. Easter does remember the past, but it also points to the future. Jesus’ resurrection from the dead expresses a belief that “death shall be swallowed up in victory.” Belief holds that there shall come a time when there is no more pain, suffering or tears.
Paradoxically, Easter is also about the present — the light that shines here and now in this world.
When I read the biblical accounts of his last week, I find Jesus focusing on this present moment. Jesus chose to share a meal with those closest to him and asked for a group of those same folks to stay awake and pray with him — to live in the moment. To live in the moment does not mean that there is no suffering or pain.
But it can give hope. Easter is now.
I imagine that you, like me, were horrified last week at the news of yet another school shooting. I happened to be with my youngest child when I saw the breaking news update on my phone. My 5-year-old had just gotten out of the hotel pool and, though the water was heated, there was a chill in the air. I put my phone down and wrapped her in a towel.
Light and love were in that moment. It does not mean that I should ignore the problems elsewhere. But appreciating such moments can inspire me to work for change in the world.
As my daughter climbed onto my lap, I breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly while feeling the soft touch of her towel and a strand of her long hair tickling my cheek. The sunlight streamed upon other kids playing in the pool, and my daughter snuggled into my chest. Easter now.
Andrew Taylor-Troutman is the pastor of Chapel in the Pines Presbyterian Church. His newly-published book is a collection of his columns for the Chatham News + Record titled “Hope Matters: Churchless Sermons.”