Resurrection as divine fuck you

It's Wednesday in the Octave of Easter. The candy dwindles to a few items growing sticky from rejection, and the ham bone is ready for the bean pot. The joy of Sunday is hazy already, just a few days in. Lectionary readings reflect the ennui which settles so quickly after peak moments. Yesterday offered Mary Magdalene's wonder at encountering the risen Christ, and her charge to share the good news. But today's reading presents the two unnamed disciples road-tripping to Emmaus when Jesus appears. They don't realize it's him, and the story they convey connotes doubt about Mary's veracity. Hear his words to them (and us): “O foolish ones, and slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have

False hosannas: the hailing and condemnation continues

It's been a while since I engaged in long-winded debate on social media about the validity of LGBTQI+ Christian faith. But over the past few days a veritable tornado of condemnation and self-righteous ranting tore through my Facebook feed, leaving behind a flood of sadness and discouragement. It was hard to feel the celebration of Palm Sunday this morning. I always find feeling celebratory difficult on this particular Sunday. It's forever tinged with the darkness of what's to come. The experience is important for the Christian walk; it's a reminder of how quickly we turn, how rashly we respond, and how shallow our commitment often is. As we waved palm branches in church I thought about the p

She washed his feet with her tears

My tireless, creative, encouraging wife periodically pores over my old Theology of Desire blog to find pieces she thinks need repurposing. This post is one of those; it's an envisioning of Luke 7:36-50. Their voices carry through the door; the sound of men in the absence of women. My heart pounds. Do I dare? I take a breath and push the door open. The room falls silent as one by one the men realize I'm not a servant bringing food or more wine. Their expressions tell a story. Some of them know me and scowl their disapproval and surprise. Those who don’t know me look puzzled; my robes and ornaments confuse them. I can’t think about them now, because he is before me. I cross the room to

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© 2020 by Suzanne DeWitt Hall