Today has been full of such incredibly beautiful weather, and I’ve been looking for any excuse to leave the office and soak up the sun and its warmth – a cup of coffee from down the block, a trip to the corner for batteries to stop the smoke detector from chirping…
On one of my walks I saw the first buds of green on the trees that line Logan Boulevard, and in that instant I knew that the spring we have been waiting for is finally here.
Yet still, spring is not here. The signs of its inevitable triumph are hidden in plain sight, but spring itself is still being summoned up from the cold recesses of the earth.
The texts for this Sunday are filled with similar tensions – Isaiah speaks of rivers in the desert, Paul declares the glory of Christ’s resurrection but confesses that he has not yet obtained it himself, and Mary annoints the feet of Jesus as though he were already dead. We stand at the threshold between life and death, as we always do. Even so, all signs point to new life as our final destination.