By Br Walt Hampton
Easter is coming.
We say we are an Easter people.
It’s the high holy day in Christianity. The centerpiece of our faith. The defining moment.
We say we believe in the Resurrection.
And yet, it is a fairly unbelievable story.
A dead man rising?
It stretches the limits of what we understand.
So, for many, the Resurrection stays in the background. A nice story. Abstract. Cerebral. Maybe historical. Maybe not. But distant.
Yet, if we are followers of Jesus, we are called to follow him all the way.
Life. Death. And resurrection.
Resurrection is not just something that happened to Jesus. It is something that happens. Over and over.
It is happening now.
This is the heart of Franciscan theology. God is always breaking into the world. The Incarnation is ongoing. The Christ mystery unfolds in every moment. Birth, death, resurrection—again and again.
This is not metaphor. This is reality.
Resurrection is not locked in the past. It is not a doctrine to believe. It is a way of life.
We see it in nature. The seed falls to the ground, buried in darkness, and rises in new life. The caterpillar dissolves, disintegrates, and emerges with wings. The forest burns, only to regenerate with greater richness than before.
Death is never the end of the story.
We see it in history. The Berlin Wall falls. Apartheid ends. The enslaved are set free.
What was once declared dead rises again.
We see it in our own lives. The loss that seemed unbearable, and yet we kept breathing. The failure that crushed us, and yet we learned and grew. The grief that swallowed us, and yet love found us again.
We have all known resurrection.
Mary Magdalene experienced it that first Easter.
She stood outside the tomb, weeping. Everything she had hoped for was gone. Jesus was dead. The story was over.
And then—he called her name.
Mary.
And suddenly, the world cracked open.
She mistook him for the gardener. Maybe she wasn’t wrong.
Maybe Jesus, the Christ, is the one who tends the garden of new life. Who brings forth what was dead. Who calls us out of the tomb and into the light.
The Gospel writers don’t tell us how the resurrection happened. They simply tell us that it did.
And that it changes everything.
If we are an Easter people, we cannot simply admire resurrection from a distance. We must walk the resurrection talk.
That means choosing life. Again and again.
It means looking for where God is breaking in. Where the Spirit is calling forth newness. Where love is rising from the ashes.
It means being resurrection people in a world obsessed with death. A world that worships power, clings to fear, hoards wealth, and believes in scarcity.
Resurrection people do the opposite.
We choose love over fear.
We choose generosity over hoarding.
We choose justice over indifference.
We choose to believe that what looks like the end may, in fact, be the beginning.
This is not easy. Resurrection is not painless. It comes after loss, after grief, after death. It requires letting go of what was so that something new can emerge.
But this is the way of Jesus.
This is the way of life.
So here is the challenge. How will you practice resurrection?
Will you welcome the stranger? Feed the hungry? Care for the marginalized? Call out injustice?
Will you serve where there is need?
Will you refuse to believe the lie that things will never change?
Will you love without condition, without restraint, without exception?
Will you tell your story so others can find hope?
The tomb is empty.
Christ is risen.
And resurrection is ours to live.
May it be so.
Peace to you,