A reflection on Luke 24: 1-12 and "The red tree" by Shaun Tan - Easter Day, 2007
“Just as you imagined it would be.”
And therein lies the problem. The problem is our imaginations, or rather our lack of imaginations.
It is too easy to imagine some things but not others. We can imagine crucifixion, but find it hard to open our minds to the possibility of resurrection. Our imaginations, it seems to me, become slave to our experience when it might be far more useful if the other were to apply: instead of our imaginations being limited by what we have experienced as “real”, we need to let our reality be shaped by what we can imagine.
“The red tree” is a story of the triumph of imagination over reality. The red tree exists because the little girl is capable of imagining it as real. Amidst the gloom and despair of those who cannot imagine the fire and the flame of the tree there exists another reality, a reality brought into being through the imagination of one who believes. And so it is with the resurrection of Jesus whom we call the Christ.
Some of you may recall an encounter I had some months ago with an atheist friend. Part of her denigration of Christianity was that “believers” are tied to a literal reading of those texts in which we claim to find God. “How can you possibly believe everything that you find in a book two thousand years old?” she challenged. “How can you believe that the earth was created in seven days? That Noah really took two animals of each kind on board an ark? How can you believe that Jesus walked on water, or cast out demons? How can you believe that he was killed and then rose again?”
It was interesting to be accused of being a literalist when my friend seemed to be incapable of doing anything other than hearing the truth of God literally. Without imagination, she was helplessly tied to the realities of her own existence: Gods don’t speak Creation into being; old men don’t sail arks on the high seas; human beings don’t walk on water or cast out demons or are raised from the tomb simply because she has never experienced these things and cannot imagine them to be true.
For her, lack of faith is no more than lack of imagination.
And conversely, perversely perhaps, we too suffer from a lack of imagination. Having heard the stories so many times we become tied to familiar images and constructs. Yes, we can imagine scenes from two thousand years ago – donkeys carrying Messiahs, stone jars miraculously full of wine, even a crucifixion and a resurrection – but can we imagine those self-same things happening here and now?
The women come early in the morning to find the stone rolled away and the body absent. And they are terrified. How could they possibly have imagined such a thing would happen? Is it any wonder that their story seemed nothing more than “an idle tale” to those singularly unimaginative men who had followed uncomprehending and unconvinced behind the one who refused to be limited by earthly realities?
Are we any different? Can we imagine a different reality beyond the literal certainties of twenty-first century Australia?
Instead of death, can we imagine life?
Instead of hunger and poverty, can we imagine an abundant world called into reality by a prodigal God?
Instead of war and violence, can we truly imagine peace?
Instead of loneliness and isolation, can we imagine a community which is truly the household of God?
Can we imagine resurrection, here and now?
And if we can imagine these things, how will they shape and change us and our reality?
Will imagining abundance encourage us to live generously?
Will imagining peace make us insist on an end to war?
Will imagining community lead us into community, draw us towards our neighbours with arms outstretched?
How will the resurrection come into our lives?
Will it be “just as we imagined it would be”?
