Saturday, April 23, 2011

Slippery (call it an impressionist response)

Mary Magdalene thought he was the gardener.

The disciples on the road to Emmaus thought he was just another fellow traveler.

And I thought . . .

I don't know what to think.

What have you done with my lord? Don't you know what has been happening in Jerusalem?

Resurrection is a little slippery. You think you know death and then life surprises you. The very one you mourn is standing right there, calling your name or handing you a piece of bread.

He calls us out of our grief and distress, feeds us.

But he won't be held.

(Can I at least touch?)

It's baffling. And true. Love is not contained by a grave or by our grasp.

But we recognize Love when Love calls our names, when Love let's us have a taste of bread.

It's tempting to say, "and then he's gone again."

But that's not true. We just can't hold him.

Thomas has to touch the wounds. Blessed are you if you don't and still believe.

Stay with us, for it is evening.

Mary Magdalene thought he was the gardener.

I thought . . .




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