John 20:1-18
Have you ever thought about
butterflies and Easter? Do you know why they are associated? Until very
recently, I assumed (like many others) that the caterpillar went into the
chrysalis, something, something, grew wings, and became a butterfly. That’s not
what happens.
Recently,
listening to the program Radiolab, I learned that in the 1600s- theologians and
scientists had cut open pupae and discovered a white- yellow goo inside. The
caterpillar is gone, but no butterfly was yet formed or seemed even evident in
any shape, form, or fashion.
They
believed that the caterpillar died. In dying, it represented our bodies. The
butterfly stood for our souls, light, free, and beautiful. Fortunately, they
were wrong about the relationship of the caterpillar to the butterfly. I will
assert that they were also incorrect about the body and soul’s separation,
since the bodies are also beloved and prized by God.
There
is just pale goo in the chrysalis, even one day after the caterpillar forms it.
The caterpillar seems gone and there isn’t yet a sign of what will be. So what
happens? How does this longtime symbol of death to resurrection actually do its
thing?
As
it turns out, the caterpillar is growing the thin, light skeleton of the future
butterfly in its body for its entire life. The caterpillar carried and fed the
form of its future self. When it forms the chrysalis, the caterpillar
dissolves, but the delicate butterfly parts- carried into the chrysalis- are
pressed against its papery inside, with the goo- the proteins and amino acids
of the caterpillar- forming the center. Butterflies will turn away from
distasteful smells they experienced as a caterpillar. Some sense memories of
their previous life exist within them.
Thus,
a caterpillar to a butterfly is not a story of death and decay. Instead, it is
a story of resurrection as transformation, of new life, above the fullness of
the possibilities that were always within. The caterpillar’s future self was
inside it all along.
When
I think of Peter, Mary Magdalene, and the Beloved Disciple running back and
forth to the tomb on that first Easter morning, I cannot help but think of them
as being like caterpillars. Their insides probably felt like goo, as they
panicked about the location of Christ’s body. Even in believing who Jesus was,
God among them, among us, they did not understand what happened.
Mary
Magdalene, in her caterpillar state, also was overwhelmed. She did not
recognize Jesus speaking to her, mistaking him for a gardener. But then he
spoke her name, “Mary.” Christ called her by name and she knew who he was. She
realized what had happened.
Jesus
urges her forward, with work to do. She is to speak to his brothers. She is to
carry the news of the risen Savior. She is to proclaim a new familial
relationship with God, by declaring him the Father of Christ and the Father of
all. In these moments, Mary transforms. The shape of an evangelist (one who
brings good news) has always been inside her, that’s why she was following
Jesus.
The
same thing happens for us. When we have a new life in Christ, what is old
passes away. Our insecurities, our fears, our prejudices die. They enter the
primordial ooze. The new life we have burst forth, with the help of the Holy
Spirit. So many people expect to feel very different. Life in Christ, though,
isn’t about feelings. The butterfly doesn’t feel different. It is different.
Alive
in grace, because of God’s work in Jesus on the first Easter and every day
since, we are fundamentally changed,
yet the possibilities of that new self, of that new life, of that transformation
have always been inside us. The shape of our future self, the person that God
is calling us and forming us to be, is always within us. We know what we know,
we have been forgiven, we step forward… and there is transformation and
resurrection… Easter, Easter, Easter… every step of the way.
That
is the hope of this Easter day. Not that we have blech little bodies that will
die one day and then there will be something else somewhere. No! The Easter
message, the one that calls us by name in the gardens of our griefs and
frustrations, is that God resurrects, even here, even now, even you, even me. In
Jesus’ own body was the Word that had always been and the Christ who will
always be. Within us, by God’s own power, is the resurrection for today and the
shape of who God will make us to be for tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
Amen.
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