Easter

The Holy Sepulchre 
 
The exotic waft of incense
The chill of cold marble
A thousand lamps shining on gilded crucifixes
Pious pilgrims performing prostrations
Bored tourists in idle conversations
Beeswax candles and cellphone cameras
Priests wearing habits
Pilgrims toting backpacks
Cueing worshipers and churlish monks
Lonely planet boys and girls
Climbing up to Golgotha
Stooping down into an empty tomb
Is this where death was undone?
It may be, but there is no proof
It feels more like an arcane shrine
Curated by competing religious orders
Than where an angel rolled back the stone
And yet…
I come back year after year
More at home each time
And though I understand why many might be
I am not disappointed
And after all, what did the angel say?—
He is risen! He is not here
HE IS NOT HERE
And what did the apostle say?—
He ascended to fill all things
TO FILL ALL THINGS
Where is the empty tomb?
It’s right here—
In a world where death is but a door
Leading to the One who went before
To prepare a place for us
In the Father’s house of love
Morning has broken
 
Brian Zahnd

 
Grace and peace,

Anita Sorenson
Pastor for Spiritual Formation