by Elias Blum
I once heard a story about a man who stood on the side of the people, of the poor, of the dispossessed, of the strangers, of the unjustly accused, of the discriminated against, and of those without much money, land, prestige or power. He and his movement, mostly recruited from amongst labourers and fishermen, went from place to place, speaking truth in uncomfortable ways and calling people to a new way of being, a different order, a realm of justice and equality. And, of course, he upset the rich, the rulers, the priests and the imperialists. In the end, they conspired to kill him, and kill him they did. But the movement did not die. His followers experienced a kind of resurrection: they received a new spirit, a new power, a new hope. They saw his death, and thought all that they had hoped for was lost. But it wasn’t. It was just the start of something else. Not quite, perhaps, what they had expected or hoped for, but good nevertheless. It is with stories like this that I try to console myself today. We lost the referendum. But perhaps not all is lost. We have to look at what can be resurrected from this, and how that resurrection can transform us.