Easter's Mic Drop

Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb taking the spices they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the entrance of the tomb, but when they went inside they didn’t find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.

The women were terrified and they 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. He is risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day, rise again.” Then the women remembered what he had said and, returning from the tomb, they told all of 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 their words seemed to them and idle tale, and they didn’t believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb. Stooping and looking inside he saw the linen cloths by themselves, and he went home, amazed at what had happened.

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We’ve been telling stories around here throughout the season of Lent, leading up to this morning and Easter’s great story of gospel good news. I’m so grateful for the brave, faithful Cross of Gracers who shared brief, true, very personal stories about their lives in this world – and about the many ways their lives and their faith came together at a variety of crossroads, for them. We heard stories about miraculous healings, surprising encounters with the divine; family, friendship, and falling in love. And more on top of that.

On Good Friday, to wrap up that storytelling extravaganza, we heard one more story and then we listened to the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, suffering, and death on the cross. And then we left in darkness and silence, with only the microphone we’d been using all season, left standing at the foot of the cross, all by its self. Alone. Off. Unplugged. Silent.

I’m not sure who got the symbolism of that or knew how deliberate that was, but it made me think of this picture I remember seeing somewhere, some time, several ago.

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