On this morning long ago, a small group of dedicated disciples huddled together anxiously awaiting the Passover Sabbath to end. They yearned to go tend to the dead body of their beloved friend, Jesus. The one who saved their lives could not or did not save his own, nor could they prevent his death. Jesus was dead.
This impossible truth mutates into something more gruesome when one realizes the accessories to Jesus’ death. He was betrayed by beloved friends, tortured by “good, religious folk,” and executed by the law and order of the state. The cruel forces of the world crushed his life, and in the process sideswiped the lives of a small band of followers.
On this morning long ago, those disciples, mostly women, hid away. Their reality felt broken. Their lives appeared hollow. So, they clutched onto each other, heartbroken, unmoored, yet determined to compassionately care for Jesus’ body. What a challenge it must have been to take the first step out the door from their bleak homes toward his tomb.
Before the events of the last twelve months — global pandemic, racial reckoning, economic hardships, divisive election cycle, attempted coup, and countless personal struggles — were we collectively in a place to identify with the grief and loss of those brave women and men? Probably not, but now we wait like them — not sure of what the sunrise brings.
On this morning, this day, this time, we are to be strong like Mary and the other women. We are to run like Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved. For God’s creative, life-giving, and life-saving love is not locked in the past. We always wait on the edge of Resurrection. Dare we go with the disciples to look into the tomb?
The Rev. Seth Olson
No comments:
Post a Comment