‘Fear not, for I know you seek Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has risen.’— The Angel, Matthew 28
Mary, known as the Tower (Magdala), and her companion, also named Mary, approached the sepulcher.
The tomb, a sanctuary of shadows where their hopes and dreams lay entombed, echoed with the death and silence of the one who proclaimed himself the resurrection and the life.
The world’s true light, now a decaying corpse.
They journeyed through the night, the day following the Sabbath—an unholy day which is repeated throughout history as countless women weep and mourn the loss of their beloved to the cruel injustices of empire and violence.
In the darkness, the dawn was pressing in; the kingdom of God was at hand.
Beside the tomb, guards stood watch over a sealed stone door, emblematic of both empire and brutality. Their presence acted as a preventative barrier to those seeking to hold the cold hand and stroke the brow of he who embodied love entwined with extravagant mercy.
Yet, yet, yet,
the crucified will not be forsaken;
heaven will not be silent.
The beast of death will not claim victory,
and violence will not have the last word.
The earth trembled, its very core awoken. The stone, the guardian of death, yielded to unseen forces and the guards, symbols of empire and violence, were now frozen in dread.
The Marys marveled at the unfolding mystery.
The unholy became holy, the normal usurped by the extraordinary—the apocalyptic inbreaking of the rule and reign of the Father acting in both space and time. The end is not the end, a new day has dawned and the beast of death has been defanged.
An Angel spoke :”Fear not, for the crucified one is no longer dead. Behold, he has been raised.
The darkest day was not the final day.
Love wins.
Jesus is Alive.
Amen, Amen, Amen.
- Swales, 2024
Painting: Three Marys at the Tomb
(c. 1410-26), attributed to Jan &/or Hubert Van Eyck
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