“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.” (Luke 24:1-3)

Even as a boy minister, still dripping wet behind the ears, I knew it was bad form to giggle in a funeral parlor, especially right after a funeral service, standing next to the funeral director as he was closing the coffin.  I knew it was bad form, but I struggled mightily to keep from giggling, just the same.  The occasion was one of the first funerals I had conducted and I was with Bill Lang as he was closing the coffin.  I had never seen the procedure before.  Bill didn’t do anything funny or disrespectful.  He put the shroud inside the casket, lowered the torso of the body to lie flat in the coffin and proceeded to work the recessed screws that locked down the casket lid.

My urge to giggle was the result of holding in the smart remark I knew I couldn’t (and didn’t) make.  What I wanted to say was: “Bill, you really don’t need to lock her in there.  She’s not going anywhere.”  I swear to you, I didn’t speak those words and I didn’t giggle either.  I may have employed a fake cough to cover the urge, however.

We are at the end of the season of Easter, the season in which we consider the implications of One who could not be held in a tomb.  Seal the casket, roll a stone in front of the entrance to the cave, post a guard.  Do what you will, love is stronger than death.

And yet, even in the season of Easter, we often remain stuck in places of death and hopelessness, as though the stone hadn’t been rolled away, as though we were still locked into caskets of sin, death and despair. 

The good news is that nothing that happens in a funeral home or in the day ahead can trap us in the power of death.  We have been set free. 

Prayer:  God of life, remind us of your death-defying power.  Grant us courage to live today as people of new life and new hope.  Amen.