Rev. Jeannie Alexander

We are living in a time of prophets, in a time of dictators, tyrants, and yes, saints. And it is loud in our heads. It is loud in my head. The din is unsustainable, and yet it is there day after day – sending out messages of obedience, messages of resistance, threats that your politics and your very existence is enough to get you hunted and killed. Churned into the mix of this theatre of hate and absurdity is the filter of AI, omnipresent through our social media interactions, our searches...

As a pastor I must confess that in this moment I am not sure how to talk about Easter when we are surrounded by crucifixion. I can hear my Christian clergy colleagues firmly remind me that we must have faith and preach the hope of resurrection to make meaning of the executed body of Christ. The ancient Christian pilgrimage tradition of the Stations of the Cross, or the Via Dolorosa contains 14 steps beginning with Jesus being condemned to death and ending with his body being placed in the tomb.

The snowpack has melted into the earth, and the brook winding its course across the abbey, through forest and glen, has been resurrected from the drought of last summer and fall. The flow, burble, and constant rolling of the waters is a familiar comfort on the dark evenings when I stand under a shadow sky listening, simply listening for anything the land has to share.