"Dare We Look into the Tomb?"
An Easter Message
Fear and trembling.
Terror and amazement.
These words from the Christian Gospels
describe the reactions of the three women who,
intending to anoint the body
of their loved one,
who had died a brutal death just days before,
instead walked into his tomb,
and found it dark and empty.
Can you imagine?
Gearing yourself up
for a task that none of us
ever fathom doing -
preparing the body of our beloved
for proper burial.
Gathering your bottle of oil.
Your myrrh and cinnamon.
Your cloths.
Still numb from the shock.
Eyes red and swollen from all the tears.
Your mind nevertheless moving forward
with taking care of this sacred rite,
one that had to be delayed
for two nights because of the Sabbath.
We can imagine the women talking
among themselves as they walked to the tomb.
A hush falling over them as they approach it.
Taking a breath,
setting their shoulders straight,
steeling themselves for the waves of grief
that will surely come
when they see him;
as they lay their hands on his body,
a body so beloved and cherished.
As they enter,
they dare to lift their eyes
to where the body should be ...
And he’s gone.
They must have rubbed their eyes,
shaken their heads,
held onto each other
as they tried to make sense
of the emptiness in front of them.
Reality tilted,
their next steps unsure.
In one moment -
everything changed.
The world no longer what it had seemed.
Fear and trembling.
Terror and amazement.
We are not so unlike those three women.
Taking care of ones we love.
Showing up for the day-to-day business of life.
Not expecting the extraordinary to happen
right before our eyes.
This month at Throop,
we’ve learned about the evils
that are in and of this world.
Everett and I talked about these
as institutional or structural evils.
Ones created and maintained by human hands.
They are often unseen.
One way they remain hidden is through our own “moral oblivion.”
Moral oblivion shields from us the harm done to others
in our quest for a lifestyle
of relative comfort, ease, and convenience.
It keeps us on the same path
we’ve always been on.
Moral oblivion prevents us from seeing the
structural violence that we
inadvertently participate in.
We play a role as consumers and users of
Earth’s sacred and scarce resources.
Those resources include people
and animals.
Make no mistake -
we all take part in that,
every single day.
If we were celebrating a traditional Christian Easter,
you and I would have already experienced
the heaviness and sorrow and suffering
that came from Jesus’ death.
Starting with Palm Sunday
and continuing until sunrise today.
His brutal dying is the apex of the story.
The Christian story rests on the understanding
that without Good Friday, there can be no Easter;
without his death, there can be no resurrection.
Eco-feminist theology
shares that conviction,
minus the Christology.
Eco-feminists understand that the universe
uses even death and destruction to produce life.
Resurrection is the song of Earth.
As I mentioned last Sunday,
an eco-feminist view of healing and revitalizing the world
rests on our willingness
to honor the grief we feel
for what is actively dying in this world.
We can acknowledge those things together
for a few moments this morning.
What do you love about Creation that is withering away?
A beloved river,
or animal,
or desert flower?
Can you see it in all its stunning details?
Can you remember all the joy it has given you?
Will you hold that image close to you?
Can you imagine yourself
as one of those three women
walking toward Jesus’ tomb.
Except instead,
you are walking toward what you love
in Creation.
Can you imagine anointing it?
Holding it tenderly,
dabbing on the oil,
sprinkling myrrh and cinnamon over it
as you offer up words of blessing?
Can you imagine your own reaction
if you were to come upon it,
sure it will be there,
only to find it already gone?
No longer here upon this earth?
Perhaps you, too, would feel fear and trembling.
Terror and amazement.
What would you do?
What will you do when that day comes?
We must be able to own that grief,
bear that grief
say, Yes, these things are happening,
if we are to find a way toward new life.
Our moral visions and actions
are key components of the story
of Earth’s healing and resurrection.
Countering the moral oblivion that
keeps our eyes shielded from
harmful structural injustices
is tough spiritual work.
We don’t learn something once and that’s it.
We are looking at a lifetime of
personal and institutional changes.
Three things can help us strengthen our vision.
One, We must be brave enough to see what really is.
Right in front of us.
Two, We must be audacious enough to imagine what could be.
And be active in creating an alternative future.
Three, in order to sustain the first two,
We must see the Spirit of Life coursing through Creation,
leading into more abundant life for all.
That particular idea
was so beautifully articulated by
19th Century Unitarian minister Theodore Parker:
Look at the facts of the world.
You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right.
I do not pretend to understand the moral universe,
the arc is a long one,
my eye reaches but little ways.
I cannot calculate the curve
and complete the figure by the experience of sight;
I can divine it by conscience.
But from what I see ...
I am sure it bends towards justice.
The moral acrc of the universe
will not
can not
bend on its own.
And while the climax of the Easter story
may be Jesus’ death,
the three women weren’t paralyzed by
their fear and trembling,
terror and amazement.
No, they moved forward.
They were part of shaping a message
that was far greater than his death;
the enduring meaning of Easter
is that death does not have the last word.
We are active partners -
- you and I, drawing our circle wide to include all Creation on this earth -
together, bringing forth resurrection
and hope
and abundant life.
Terror and amazement.
These words from the Christian Gospels
describe the reactions of the three women who,
intending to anoint the body
of their loved one,
who had died a brutal death just days before,
instead walked into his tomb,
and found it dark and empty.
Can you imagine?
Gearing yourself up
for a task that none of us
ever fathom doing -
preparing the body of our beloved
for proper burial.
Gathering your bottle of oil.
Your myrrh and cinnamon.
Your cloths.
Still numb from the shock.
Eyes red and swollen from all the tears.
Your mind nevertheless moving forward
with taking care of this sacred rite,
one that had to be delayed
for two nights because of the Sabbath.
We can imagine the women talking
among themselves as they walked to the tomb.
A hush falling over them as they approach it.
Taking a breath,
setting their shoulders straight,
steeling themselves for the waves of grief
that will surely come
when they see him;
as they lay their hands on his body,
a body so beloved and cherished.
As they enter,
they dare to lift their eyes
to where the body should be ...
And he’s gone.
They must have rubbed their eyes,
shaken their heads,
held onto each other
as they tried to make sense
of the emptiness in front of them.
Reality tilted,
their next steps unsure.
In one moment -
everything changed.
The world no longer what it had seemed.
Fear and trembling.
Terror and amazement.
We are not so unlike those three women.
Taking care of ones we love.
Showing up for the day-to-day business of life.
Not expecting the extraordinary to happen
right before our eyes.
This month at Throop,
we’ve learned about the evils
that are in and of this world.
Everett and I talked about these
as institutional or structural evils.
Ones created and maintained by human hands.
They are often unseen.
One way they remain hidden is through our own “moral oblivion.”
Moral oblivion shields from us the harm done to others
in our quest for a lifestyle
of relative comfort, ease, and convenience.
It keeps us on the same path
we’ve always been on.
Moral oblivion prevents us from seeing the
structural violence that we
inadvertently participate in.
We play a role as consumers and users of
Earth’s sacred and scarce resources.
Those resources include people
and animals.
Make no mistake -
we all take part in that,
every single day.
If we were celebrating a traditional Christian Easter,
you and I would have already experienced
the heaviness and sorrow and suffering
that came from Jesus’ death.
Starting with Palm Sunday
and continuing until sunrise today.
His brutal dying is the apex of the story.
The Christian story rests on the understanding
that without Good Friday, there can be no Easter;
without his death, there can be no resurrection.
Eco-feminist theology
shares that conviction,
minus the Christology.
Eco-feminists understand that the universe
uses even death and destruction to produce life.
Resurrection is the song of Earth.
As I mentioned last Sunday,
an eco-feminist view of healing and revitalizing the world
rests on our willingness
to honor the grief we feel
for what is actively dying in this world.
We can acknowledge those things together
for a few moments this morning.
What do you love about Creation that is withering away?
A beloved river,
or animal,
or desert flower?
Can you see it in all its stunning details?
Can you remember all the joy it has given you?
Will you hold that image close to you?
Can you imagine yourself
as one of those three women
walking toward Jesus’ tomb.
Except instead,
you are walking toward what you love
in Creation.
Can you imagine anointing it?
Holding it tenderly,
dabbing on the oil,
sprinkling myrrh and cinnamon over it
as you offer up words of blessing?
Can you imagine your own reaction
if you were to come upon it,
sure it will be there,
only to find it already gone?
No longer here upon this earth?
Perhaps you, too, would feel fear and trembling.
Terror and amazement.
What would you do?
What will you do when that day comes?
We must be able to own that grief,
bear that grief
say, Yes, these things are happening,
if we are to find a way toward new life.
Our moral visions and actions
are key components of the story
of Earth’s healing and resurrection.
Countering the moral oblivion that
keeps our eyes shielded from
harmful structural injustices
is tough spiritual work.
We don’t learn something once and that’s it.
We are looking at a lifetime of
personal and institutional changes.
Three things can help us strengthen our vision.
One, We must be brave enough to see what really is.
Right in front of us.
Two, We must be audacious enough to imagine what could be.
And be active in creating an alternative future.
Three, in order to sustain the first two,
We must see the Spirit of Life coursing through Creation,
leading into more abundant life for all.
That particular idea
was so beautifully articulated by
19th Century Unitarian minister Theodore Parker:
Look at the facts of the world.
You see a continual and progressive triumph of the right.
I do not pretend to understand the moral universe,
the arc is a long one,
my eye reaches but little ways.
I cannot calculate the curve
and complete the figure by the experience of sight;
I can divine it by conscience.
But from what I see ...
I am sure it bends towards justice.
The moral acrc of the universe
will not
can not
bend on its own.
And while the climax of the Easter story
may be Jesus’ death,
the three women weren’t paralyzed by
their fear and trembling,
terror and amazement.
No, they moved forward.
They were part of shaping a message
that was far greater than his death;
the enduring meaning of Easter
is that death does not have the last word.
We are active partners -
- you and I, drawing our circle wide to include all Creation on this earth -
together, bringing forth resurrection
and hope
and abundant life.