The resurrection is dangerous in two senses. First, it is dangerous for us Christians. Too often, we think of it as the consoling promise of life in heaven after death here on Earth: Jesus died and rose from the dead, and we will, too, if we believe in him. The empty tomb becomes a metaphor for the emptiness of the world. We should not make much of the world and its appearances because our true home is above. To cling to the world is to foolishly attempt to hold onto that which will inevitably slip through our hands.

Such faith ends up saying little about our existence here. We are merely in a holding pattern. We await death or the second coming, whichever comes first. It ends up saying even less about the suffering of the oppressed. Its message to them is, “Don’t worry. Endure suffering now, and you will live in glory with God in heaven later. Submit to your sorry lot in life, and God will exalt you after death. Your pain will be redemptive.”

Such faith is dangerous for the very reason that Karl Marx indicates. The promise of the resurrection becomes an opiate for the masses. Instead of leading poor people to transform their circumstances of poverty, it leads them to passively accept these circumstances. It renders duller the pain of the knife that cuts them.

Approached differently, the resurrection is a danger to the oppressors. This second type of danger stems from the fact that the resurrection means that the movement that Jesus began, which we call the movement of the Reign of God, did not die with him. God so loved the world that God sent Jesus into the world to liberate it. God so loved Jesus that God would not let him – and the movement for which he stood and with which he was synonymous – die a definitive death. Therefore, today, on the third day, Jesus rose from the dead.

The problem is that we Christians do not often approach the resurrection in this way; rather we see the resurrection as an isolated incident. We separate the resurrection from the work of God in the history recounted by the Hebrew Scriptures. We separate the resurrection from the incarnation. We separate it from the life and ministry of Jesus. We even separate it from the circumstances of Jesus’s passion and death. We shift so quickly from Lent to Holy Week to Easter that we lose the thread.

The thread is the Reign of God, God’s dream for a new Heaven and a new Earth. The project of the Reign of God is about life, life to the full, and life to the full for the poor in particular. The resurrection only makes sense in connection to this project. To preach and to act in favor of the poor is dangerous to the rich, whose wealth is built on the blood and sweat of the poor. That God heals and to forgives poor people directly is dangerous to the religious establishment, which claims that healing and forgiveness come through them alone. To proclaim a new Reign is dangerous to the empire, which is keen on promoting itself as the only legitimate kingdom.

For these reasons, the rich, the religious authorities, and the powers of empire conspired to assassinate Jesus. They set up a sham trial so that their murder would meet some baseline requirements of legitimacy, and they hung Jesus on a humiliating cross in a public place so that everyone would know that Jesus and the Reign for which he stood were dead once and for all.

Yet, Jesus rose from the dead, and the Reign rose with him. After Jesus rose, he encouraged his disciples to continue the work of the Reign. In giving them the Holy Spirit, he gave them power not only to keep the Reign alive but also to expand it. The resurrection leads to the birth of the church, the guardian and leaven of the Reign of God. The church, when it understands the resurrection as such, becomes a powerful force for liberation in the world, and Christianity means something significant for the poor to whom this Reign belongs, not only in Heaven, but also on Earth.

In the article “Community Organizing and the ‘Call of the King,’” Ken Homan and I propose a contemplative exercise that communities can use to think together about the signs of the times, the Gospel, and the liberative work to which they are called. Here’s a modified version of this exercise:

Preparation: I find a comfortable place. I cultivate an awareness of God’s presence and the accompaniment of the communion of saints. I settle into prayer.

First Point: I imagine a setting in which I might encounter Jesus and receive his invitation to participate in the project of liberation that is the Reign of God. This setting may be a significant place associated with social justice from my everyday life or from my memory.

Second Point: I have a conversation with Jesus in this setting about the joys and hopes, the griefs and anxieties of poor and marginalized people of my time and place. I hear Jesus calling me to work on a specific project that emerges from this conversation. Jesus might say something like, “I came into human history to bring liberation to the oppressed, and my project of justice has grown thanks to the efforts of the entire communion of saints, who have given themselves throughout the ages to the inbreaking reign of justice. Today, I am calling you. Will you follow me by contributing to the specific project about which we have spoken?” I might respond, “Jesus, my God and my friend, with the help of your grace, I wish to respond generously to the project that you have confided to me. May I imitate you in your self-gift to humanity, to the poorest especially, so that, by my cooperation with the creative love of the Father and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit and the communion of saints, your reign of liberation can grow in history.”

Third Point: I imagine in this same setting the presence of a team of laborers to whom Jesus has also confided this specific project. Who are the living collaborators who are working and will work alongside me in the elaboration of this project? Who are the historical saints whose lives will inspire my contemporary work and who will intercede on behalf of it? What do these collaborators, whether alive in heaven or on Earth, have to say to me? What do I say to them? Then, what does Jesus have to say to all of us? What do we all have to say to Jesus?

Conclusion: I offer the Lord’s Prayer, or another such prayer that brings closure to this spiritual exercise.

In light of this exercise, I might reflect on the following questions alone or, preferably, in a group:

1) What was the setting in which I imagined receiving this invitation from Jesus? What is the significance of this place for me?

2) To what kind of work is Jesus calling my community?

3) Who are the collaborators, both historical saints and my contemporaries, with whom I can engage in this work?