Luke:
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.
On the first day of the week, while it was still dark, the women went to the tomb. They went, laden down with herbs and spices, with oils and aloes, with tearstained faces and broken hearts. On the first day of the week they approached the tomb, knowing what they would find: a corpse. A body that had been tortured and mutilated in life, and that would be stinking and rotting in death. The body of their friend, their partner, their lover, their son. The body of Christ. They came expecting to find death, because what else does one find in a graveyard?
Early on the last day of the week, when the sun was just beginning to break over the hills, the woman rose from her bed. She went to the store to buy the necessary things: vitamins, a pregnancy test, and tampons- just in case. She went home and crept quietly through the house, not wanting to wake her friend, her partner, her lover. She peed in a cup, dipped the wand in the liquid gold for 15 seconds, set a timer for three minutes, and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Her husband arose and, knowing what was happening behind closed doors, fluttered around like a worried hen as she calmly unloaded the dishwasher. With the beeping of the timer he flew to see what news awaited them, and when he came out she did not have to go in to see for herself, although she did anyway. ‘Pregnant,’ the wand said, clear as day, and they both laughed in surprise, and delight, and disbelief.
Midday on the second day of the week, amid the hustle and bustle of thirty sweaty children, she felt a twinge. She resisted going to check- she waited until the children were gone, until she had cleaned up from snack and craft and game time. She waited until the lights were out and the fans were off before going into a bathroom that was not her own to see. There was blood.
Early on the first day of the week, while it is still dark, she will rise like those women long ago. She will carry no spices, no oils, no aloes. But she will carry a heavy heart. As the women go to the house of the dead, she will worship with the living. When the women find that the tomb is empty, she will remember that for her it is not a tomb, but her womb that lacks its occupant. While the women come to recognize that it is not death, after all, that they are witnesses to but rather life, she will bear silent witness that instead of life her body has brought forth- nothing. She wonders if there can be any good news, any resurrection tale for her this day, the day that should have been the first day her child spent in this world?
The tomb is a womb and the womb is a tomb and so the cycle continues, forever and ever, amen-
BUT-
how can there be any easter butterfly, when the hope for new life has been plucked from its cocoon far too soon? Too soon, even, to hear a heartbeat, so she wonders if it was ever really life at all...
Early in the morning, while it was still dark, the women went to the tomb and found a miracle. I’m not asking, God, that my womb be filled this day... only that someday it might bring forth new life. And that this easter the stone might be rolled away from my heart, so that the tomb that houses the grief and sorrow over this dream child might become as empty as Christ’s tomb.
