The early followers of Jesus don’t talk about his death and resurrection by using the metaphors and images of bunnies, eggs, and flowers. They come from the Spring goddess Eostre, from whom we also get the word Easter.

Rather the early followers of Jesus, after his body was dead and gone, talked about the power of his life, values, and vision (his spirit) producing an abundance of offspring, by using the metaphor of a seed. Namely a seed going into the ground, dying, and a new plant emerging with many new seeds to then spread abroad.

A seed, of course, when it’s planted in the ground doesn’t literally die like a person does. Rather the seed breaks open and uses its stored energy and resources for a new plant to emerge. This process involves the seed coat breaking and the embryo inside using its stored food reserves, essentially sacrificing its “seed” form to become a new plant. The seed transforms.

And the plant, often wheat in biblical parables, when grown, can then produce many seeds itself. The number of seeds produced by one wheat plant can vary depending on factors like variety and growing conditions, but it can range from dozens to hundreds of seeds. 

So, it’s a metaphor that says out of one person (Jesus), and the death or transformation of that person, can come many others who will live out that person’s life, values, and vision. The many others have Jesus’ spirit (a fraction of that stored energy) within them, that then they in turn will pass on and propagate.

You will see the cartoon in the service sheet, drawn by Naked Pastor, expanding on this metaphor. A kaumatua, maybe her father, is kneeling on the soil of a field and saying to a rangatahi, “I promise you: if you plant even the smallest seed of love… more will grow.” And he or she has dug a little hole, and she has a little red heart symbol to put in it.

In other words the cartoonist, like many Christians before, is summarizing the life, values, and vision of Jesus (his spirit) with the word ‘love,’ and encouraging us to emulate both the kaumatua and the rangatahi.  

Following the young woman we are to plant, whenever and however we can, the seeds of that understanding of love Jesus had. Like getting your hands dirty by helping a stranger. Like welcoming back an adult son who has offended and hurt you. Like seeing in the gift of a child’s lunch, and the child’s generosity, the potential to feed the large crowd. Like lifting up the lowly, pulling down the mighty, and baking a common good of justice that can bring peace to the entire world.

Following the adult in the cartoon we are not only to plant, but to encourage others to plant, such love. We are to be both planters, and encouragers, advocates, and teachers in the vocation of planting such love and goodness.

And, like with the biblical metaphor, one action (or planting) of love we do won’t just produce one more action of love. It will produce hundreds. From the one will come many. From the one, to the many, from the many to the multitudes, will come this love and goodness.

In this there is much hope. Easter hope.

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I believe in Easter.

I heard the other day of a young woman, Moana, who had previously experienced homelessness, living in her car, and enduring an abusive relationship, successfully secured social housing at the end of last year. This marked a significant turning point for her in that long journey toward stability, healing, and empowerment. Upon securing her new accommodation, she took the initiative to furnish her home with second-hand items, transforming the space into the welcoming and comfortable whare she had always aspired to have.  

At her first house inspection the landlord commended Moana for her courage and dedication to maintaining her home, and acknowledging her efforts in creating a positive and well-kept living space.

Since moving into her new home, she has actively engaged with her neighbours and neighbourhood. She has begun forming new connections, which are contributing to her sense of belonging and support.  

Moana’s story is one of hope. The seed of which I suspect was the first person who believed in her. Who saw her as a whole and began encouraging her. Along the way though there were many setbacks. The soil was not ideal. The seed that had been planted was only occasionally watered. The abuse almost destroyed the seedling. The lack of shelter too.

My point, in linking Moana’s story with the resurrection metaphor of a seed, is that for this sort of personal transformation to come about, for love and goodness to flourish and propagate, for the vulnerable to get on their feet and find hope, it takes more than just the rangatahi in the cartoon to plant the seed in the ground and her kaumatua to encourage her. It takes a lot more. And every little bit helps. 

She needed housing. Social housing. Of which there is short supply. She needed protection from abuse, and the resilience to get help, get out, and stay out. She needed assistance accessing support services, finding furniture and the like. She needed encouragement and affirmation. She needed and needs a whole village of helpers.

Her life is still fragile. But there is hope too.

One of the early liturgical affirmations of the Jesus’ movements was the responsorial: “We are the Body of Christ; By one Spirit we were baptized into one body.”

On the one hand this is another way of talking about Jesus’ resurrection. We, the Christian community together, are literally his ongoing life or body. If you want to see Jesus’ life, values, and vision then look at the Jesus movements that emerged in the first century and have kept on emerging and evolving. These movements, or churches as we now call them, have the vocation of continuing the Jesus insurrection, of planting and propagating love, lifting up the lowly, pulling down the mighty, and baking a common good of justice that can feed the entire world.

On the other hand “we are the Body of Christ” is a reminder of the reality that we can’t, and shouldn’t, do it alone. We need to join together for change to come about. To assist the Moana’s of our society, someone needs to work on the Government, someone on the Council, someone on policy, someone on health, someone on safety, someone on counselling, and many someones on encouragement, friendship, and neighbourliness.  

All of which is to say, on Easter Sunday, that the resurrection was not a singular event or moment in time. Rather it was in the first century a slow process of weaving Jesus followers back together again, finding hope when it seemed so hopeless, rekindling the fire of Jesus spirit in their midst, bringing that spirit back to life, by remembering all that he valued and envisioned and then doing it. This weaving created a fabric, in time a resilient fabric, and keeps on creating a fabric, a ‘body of Christ’ fabric, that stands today in opposition to much of what passes as normal expectations and outcomes in our world.

Sometimes it is hard to have faith. Faith that the Moana’s will make it. Or that there will be enough housing, food, work, and support for everyone who needs it. Faith that the Israelis will stop indiscriminately killing the residents, including the children and health workers, of Gaza. Faith that the health of our planet will be prioritized above nationalistic needs, or the selfishness of the most wealthy and powerful. Faith that we will survive.

And yet, and yet, while we draw breath there is hope. While there is the planting, watering, tending of seeds and seedlings there is hope. While there is even one story, like Moana’s, of goodness prevailing over despair there is hope. While there are communities fomenting and teaching insurrection there is hope. While there is one outsider with hands dirty helping, one wounded parent welcoming back the wounding one, one tamariki prepared to offer her lunch, one rangatahi planting love, there is hope. While we can share bread, not just with those we know and trust but also with those we don’t, there is hope.

So this is what I mean when I stand and affirm: I believe in Easter.

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