What if we didn’t know the sun was going to rise?
What if all we knew, as we stood in the dark, was that we were cold and afraid?
What if were huddled around the fire, watching the last few sticks burn down, grateful for the light and warmth they threw off, knowing there was no more wood to burn, and we were too cold, hungry and despairing to even look?
If we can imagine being in that situation, maybe we can gain a glimpse into the feelings of the women who went to the tomb that first Easter morning.
They made their way, stumbling in the dark, their vision clouded with tears, their minds numb with shock and the earliest twinges of grief.
They were going to tend to Jesus’ body.
There was no light, no hope, no joy in that task.
All they had to sustain them was their love, and careful attention to detail.
The desire to do it right, the respectful way.
A grim task, in a dark, dank cave.
What if we didn’t know the sun was going to rise?
These women had seen and heard something in Jesus.
A tone in his voice, the look in his eyes, the way he carried himself, the aura around him.
They sensed his connection to something more, something bigger than all of them, than all of us.
Their religion, and many other religions, have names for the “something more”. God. Yahweh. Mystery. Creator. Spirit. Life. Love. The Universe. The names are small sounds from human mouths that say: look, listen, dream, hope, trust, in something more.
When Jesus spoke, and when he sat with them in silence, and when he broke bread with them, laughed with them, poured wine, wept with them, they could believe in what the small words pointed to, that there is God, there is something more, and what’s more, this God loves them like the best father mother parent teacher lover friend imaginable, only more.
When Jesus was with them they knew they’d be okay even when they weren’t, and things could be grim, but God wasn’t done, and there’d be heat and light and a new day.
What if we didn’t know the sun was going to rise?
The women who came to the tomb had dared to hope and trust and walk with Jesus, and love those he loved, and give of themselves as he did. They’d watched him stand up to those who preferred scarcity and dominion over generosity and sharing. He’d called out the preachers and leaders who said life was short and brutal and watch out, and be afraid, and here are the rules.
The women watched as Jesus was betrayed, arrested, put on trial, mocked and killed.
He was nailed to a cross and their hope died.
The women wrestled themselves out of their beds of grief to tend to the body. To sit with death.
They arrived at the tomb, but they could not find his body, and death wasn't there.
What they found instead, was something more.
There was light and hope, and possibility.
There was mystery.
Jesus' friends and followers have tried for twenty centuries to explain what the women saw.
We use small human words like resurrection to point to what they experienced.
Maybe it was like seeing the sun rise for the first time, having had no idea such a thing could happen.
The women ran home from the tomb, to share with the others that all was not lost,
and that everything Jesus had pointed to was still alive, and there was something more.
Happy Easter!
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Thank you for this! (Won't send you mine ... much too scratched and revised!