The women who go to the tomb early that morning think they know what to
expect. They think they know how death works. They expect to see Jesus’ body, wrapped in linen cloths. They expect to smell the dampness of the earthen tomb. They
expect to touch Jesus, anointing
his body (and expelling any noxious smells) with their burial spices.
Like the
women who went to the tomb, our experience of our embodied, incarnate God is
deepened through our senses.
Gathered
here on Easter Sunday, we celebrate that we
see Jesus in the people around us;hear the sound of our voices raised in prayer and music;
see Jesus in the people around us;hear the sound of our voices raised in prayer and music;
and feel God’s comforting touch in hands joined together in welcome and embrace.
The men who ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” name
the paradox – the incongruity – of what it means to know both God’s absence and presence.
There are times in our lives when we have nights like the one the women
just had. After the crucifixion, living in the grief of Holy Saturday, and
awaiting the new morning, they put one foot in front of the other, doing what
they knew how to do, in the face of uncertainty and unknowing. When the
darkness of the night seems unending, and it is difficult to imagine the sun will rise, sometimes all we can do is wait to
see what dawn will bring.
Maybe it is the day you are told you won’t have a job tomorrow. Or you receive a life-changing diagnosis. Or you watch your child
struggle with illness or addiction. Maybe it is a day when no one calls or
speaks to you and the loneliness of a solitary life weighs you down.
In these Good Friday moments, it is easy to notice the absence of the divine. To cry out and wonder
where God is. To despair. It can be challenging to know God’s presence when we
are hurting, when we are grieving and when we are afraid.
But is in these same moments that, like the women do,
we are asked to remember.
Trying to make sense of the empty tomb early that first Easter morning, the men say to the women, “Remember how he told you…” and they do! They remember that Jesus had said he would be rejected and killed and then be raised on the third day. (Luke 9:22; 18:31)
Confident in the resurrection and God’s victory over death and the
grave, we too are called to remember God’s words of
promise and God’s saving
action for us.
At this
table eating the bread and drinking the wine, we remember:
Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again.
Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again.
As we live our Easter lives, especially on this Easter morning, we are invited to
experience the fullness of our incarnate God, to celebrate with joyful alleluias, glorious
music and full-throated singing, to enjoy the sight of butterflies, to drink
in the scent of flowers and to savor the taste of bread and wine that nourishes
us in body and spirit.
Let us pray…
Holy God,
Thank you for your Son Jesus, who is risen from the grave.
Thank you for your love that soothes us when we are weary.
Empower us by your Spirit to reshape the world around us in faithful obedience to you, and in love for all of your creation.
Help us keep
the feast that the whole world may be fed by your eternal grace.
Amen.
Holy God,
Thank you for your Son Jesus, who is risen from the grave.
Thank you for your love that soothes us when we are weary.
Empower us by your Spirit to reshape the world around us in faithful obedience to you, and in love for all of your creation.
Amen.
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