But on the first day of the week, at early dawn,
they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared.
They found the stone rolled away from the tomb,
but when they went in, they did not find the body.
While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.
The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground,
but the men said to them,
“Why do you look for the living among the dead?
He is not here, but has risen.
Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee,
that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified,
and on the third day rise again.”
But on the first day of the
week, at early dawn,
they came to the tomb, taking
the spices that they had prepared.
They found the stone rolled
away from the tomb,
but when they went in, they
did not find the body.
While they were perplexed
about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.
The women were terrified and
bowed their faces to the ground,
but the men said to
them,
“Why do you look for the
living among the dead?
He is not here, but has
risen.
Remember how he told you,
while he was still in Galilee,
that the Son of Man must be
handed over to sinners, and be crucified,
and on the third day rise
again.”
Then they remembered his
words, and returning from the tomb,
they told all this to the
eleven and to all the rest.
Now it was
Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary
the mother of James, and the other women with them
who told this to the
apostles.
But these words seemed to
them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.
But Peter got up and ran to
the tomb;
stooping and looking in, he
saw the linen cloths by themselves;
then he went home, amazed at
what had happened.
***
(The numbers in the sermon correspond to the pictures.)
So here is my admission of
the week. I love creepy abandoned spaces 1, old dilapidated buildings
that I’m not sure will stand the test of the next strong wind 2. Door
frames hung more like hexagons than right angles 3. Exterior walls
congealed with a mess of grasses and vines 4 which make the seemingly
fragile - stronger, like a wrinkled woman defying death. unyielding when I try
the door and find it locked.
5 I’ve come prepared, camera in hand, like spices to
honor the dead, and this time the door isn’t locked and the handle turns, like
arriving to find the stone rolled away. As I give a nudge its like cliff
jumping, that moment where my body weight shifts past the plateau into the air
before I fall toward the water, my arm likewise 6 hangs in that liminal
space over the floor, and I can’t turn back because by opening the door, I’ve
committed, I’ve already jumped 6 like knowing Jesus’ body rests on the
other side.
Eyes adjusting, I watch the
golden light of early dusk 7 spread dusty peach throughout the room 8
and fall on the mess that accompanies dead space. No matter how pristine our
last breaths, all will become ashen, and bloated, the room silted and
piecemeal. Death and time - the great equalizers of that which has been
forgotten and abandoned 9 accompanied by the stench like a tomb after
three days.
As I enter, the bowed planks
of wood underfoot speak hoarse creaks of both welcome and foreboding. All it
is, is an abandoned house, yet the last thing I ever want, is to see something
alive.
I spot a black leather kid’s
shoe 10 from an era before my time, as if worn by children at Ellis
Island or on the Oregon Trail. Simple
construction, of sole, and ankle-high leather, bracketed by holes yielding
spaces where laces once tied. Though dingy, the shoe is propped in a high
window, as if desiring to go out and play, but it can’t, having lost its
partner and its owner. Out of erie reverence, and perhaps defiance, I leave it
in its space, and having found for what I came looking, though not what I was
expecting, I silently ease out the doorway 11 I bow my face to the
ground having witnessed the transcendent in the abandoned.
Turning to close the door, I
pause to honor the gift the room has given me. What was once dead is alive 12.
Fresh air breathes into the open room, color has returned to the cheeks of its
walls, and glass and metal dazzle back the sunbeams which burn bright specks
into my vision, like a holy haunting of glistening ghosts. As much as I would
like to remain sun-kissed in the resurrected light, I cannot stay here forever,
it is still a tomb 13.
Returning, I find my friends
waiting outside 14. I am not sure how to put it, what I have seen. All
it was, was just an abandoned house 15, anything more would seem an idle
tale. How does one describe dazzling, that the room gleamed like lightening 16,
that raspy and rusted turned to breath and life, and promise? How does one tell
the Easter story? As we get on our bikes, I joke about the shoe that wanted to
play. They should go see, but don’t and we bike home 17..
Later I get my film back and
share the pictures 18, one of my friends says, “All of this stuff got
torn down a week or two after we went there.” His wife remarks, “There were
hundreds of thousands of wasps! You were brave!” But it wasn’t about bravery.
Bravery assumes the brave are in control. Instead it was about wonder,
bravery’s opposite, where the only thing I expect is to be amazed and this is
what Easter is about. Easter is about humbly entering into the tomb to find
traces of resurrection in our midst.
Slide Show
Slide Show
