Today is another chance to hold strings. The Easter events are the heart of our story, although there will be just a suggestion of the crucifixion. A spotlight outlining a cross will appear for a few seconds. The attention will be on the women who met angels by the sepulcher, and their relief to learn that Jesus is
no longer in the tomb and lifeless.
Almost every week I respond to people who are reeling with the death of someone they love. Their shock, and despair over an untimely departure has broken them open, and my attempts to give comfort wrapped in the finite container of words seems meager. Too small a plug for a heart that is bleeding out.
In the marionette performance, John will read from the New Testament where Mary and Joanna are weeping with grief. Yet the angel's assurance is concise.
"Fear not, he is not here. See the place where they laid him?"
Fear is the way many of us react to great loss. Yet, being told not to be scared isn't always a quick fix. Still, who am I to have an opinion about what angels say to someone in pain?
The message of new life is bursting outside my window. Color, blessed color, after months of gray is a welcome tonic
for my eyes. The warmth of a sun that is not so much closer as in alignment does wonders for my mood and probably yours. The deaths we each wrangle with, the hopes that have deflated, the physical bodies that hold us captive are embedded in the landscape of our own stories.
I try on that gentle reassurance. "Fear not."