April 4, 2024

I write this reflection on the Tuesday morning following Easter. It is a rainy one, in fact a morning rain punctured with a rumble of thunder, an erstwhile highly unusual occurrence in early April. But I have come to know that with climate change, anything can happen weatherwise it seems at any time. The Alleluias of Easter, a sunny and mild one here in Baltimore, seem farther away than the day before yesterday.  That is often the apparent result of a rainy morning.

Yet I love rainy days in the spring. Given that I am a day person, summer is probably my favorite season because of the longer days and shorter nights. However, the choice of a favorite season has been increasingly harder to make over the years, because I deeply appreciate the beauty that comes in all seasons. Spring is no exception because of the rain.  Sloshing around in muddy puddles is not so wonderful, and walking my dog, who hates the rain, is no small challenge. But what is wonderful this time of year is seeing what grows after the rain. This year, after recent rains, I have seen the ground transform from the browns and beiges of winter to magnificent green carpet of dichondra, zoysia, and fescue marveled at the blazing yellows of daffodils and forsythias and savored the pastels of tree blossoms.  There is a childlike and giddy part of me that waits after early springtime rains to see what grows, God’s ‘re-creation’, making the earth, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, “bud and flourish. (Isaiah 55:10)”

A week ago today, early Tuesday morning of Holy Week, I awakened that morning after my meditation and read with shock and horror the news of the collapse of the Francis Scott Key Bridge in Baltimore. Like many, I have crossed that bridge more than once, usually to avoid traffic congestion in other arteries in the city, and I had come to appreciate the graceful arc of the span rising one hundred eighty feet above the Patapsco River. Although the force of the cargo ship was estimated to be equal to a rocket launch, it was still hard to imagine the bridge crashing so quickly.  This was an unbelievably tragic day, first for the six workers who lost their lives and their families who grieve them, second for the thousands of workers at the Part of Baltimore and those they support for the instant losses of their livelihoods, and an unprecedented economic loss to the region and the country with the shutdown of a major port.  The loss of this iconic bridge a week ago today was a rainy day unlike few others in Baltimore’s history.

Yet a more sobered part of me fully believes that the city and surrounding communities will surely grow from this day. It is unsure how given that the recovery will be long and hard. But just as the beauty of May flowers will emerge from these days of April showers, I unequivocally know that God will recreate, and I believe is already at work recreating, something beautiful in the community of Baltimore beyond this tragedy. The message of Easter is that despite all that is in the world, God’s resurrection power is also at work in the world. And we see it already at work, in the work of the rescuers, in those clearing the debris and making a channel for smaller ships to pass through, in the coming together of communities on both sides of the Key Bridge and beyond to support the people directly impacted by the collapse, and in the leadership of those committed to rebuild the bridge in due time.

We in this Conference, as an Easter people, can participate in the resurrection of these communities. Although the newspaper headlines have already moved on to focus on more recent events, I first invite you to continue your prayers for all affected by this allusion. Second, several folks have asked how people can financially support communities in the aftermath of the accident. Baltimore magazine has compiled a list of possibilities and you can find that here. These are ways we can help these communities grow from these rainy and stormy times.  May we be people who not only celebrate the resurrection, but live it wherever we can, wherever we are, so that all creation may grow and flourish after any rainy and stormy season.