Edevotional April 24
We have a fox that lives near us. Actually two foxes, which may mean that there is a young family of foxes living somewhere nearby. I was sitting with Temma on our couch last night and saw the fox pacing back-and-forth on the top of the fence between our neighbor’s yard and ours. I gasped a little every time I see her. She is an arresting sight, belonging, owning the fence, and not belonging, out of place in quiet suburbia. Every time I see the fox, I’m reminded of Wendel Berry’s poem, Manifesto: The Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front, with its final lines: “Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection.”
Practice resurrection. I can relate so well with the two disciples, walking home to Emmaus, on the evening of that first resurrection day. Confused, dejected, they are walking back home, in the right direction in their world and in mine. Just going back home. Where life can begin to go back to normal. Make some sense. Where we can eat, and do the dishes. Talk about what has happened. Sort out the mystery. Go home, where I can find some safety from all that is not normal.
Those new disciples, walking home. They are joined by a stranger, a “fox.” Someone who doesn’t know about all that has happened, but who seems to know something else. “Something that won’t compute.” (Mad Farmer’s Liberation Front). The stranger talks hope. Points out their own stories that tell of some divine freedom. The two disciples welcome the stranger into their home. Share a meal. And something comes over them. A recognition. A joy. Some leaping of their hearts. They laugh. They leave home once again. “Leave it as a sign to mark the false trail, the way you didn’t go. Be like the fox who makes more tracks than necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection.”