We now have a full-sized, garden tomb in our narthex. With special thanks to Boyd Dawson, our resident artist, and Robb Montgomery, our resident SFX guy, the tomb will serve as a giant object lesson for the services of Holy Week. Right now, she's closed up tighter than a drum, with the huge stone covering the entrance, a Roman Seal in place to assure no unauthorized visitors. But for the obvious biblical reasons considering the Easter story, how did we end up with a big, hunkin' tomb in the church?
It all started with these rings. For our "Relate" Lenten theme, we chose the interlaced series of purple rings (suspended above the chancel in the sanctuary, and in Wesley Hall, where we have our Saturday service) as a symbol of relationships. Upon mentioning the desire to have some kind of large, interlocking rings hanging over the choir, the aforementioned Robb, himself a theatrical set designer, came up with a way to make them, color them, and suspend them, with no danger to those under them, should gravity become a sudden problem. Something interesting will be happening to the rings for Easter, but that is another story. As our Leadership Team "brainstormed" ideas with circles to go along with the rings, Yours Truly mentioned the "garden tomb" idea of the place where Jesus may have been interred, complete with its wheel-like stone that could be rolled over the entrance. The round stone was a circle, I thought. A mention of this idea took flight with Boyd and Robb, and voila, we have a big tomb in the narthex. I'm guessing that when that stone is rolled away for Easter, Robb may have a surprise of some kind--possibly a neon "Vacancy"sign?
We don't normally have tombs around St. Paul's. Oh, we do have a columbarium, where the ashes of dear, departed church members reside, and that is a more meaningful thing than I can tell you. I find myself making more frequent trips than I would have ever imagined to the chapel where the columbarium is, just to ponder the names on the plates on each of the niches, remembering precious saints of this church, and offering a prayer of thanksgiving to God for their lives, now gone "online" eternally. I've been visiting it a lot more since Faith Geer is there. We all still miss her so.
But a huge garden tomb? Normally, I would think it "schmaltzy," but this week, as it sits with the stone in place, it has taken on new meaning for me. Sure it is a reminder of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ for us all, that which cements our relationship with God, and offers all the promise of eternal life. But it is more than that. Even as I stand before the niches in the columbarium, remembering those precious ones, so now I've spent more than a few moments before the sealed tomb, thinking about Jesus, and how his followers must have felt staring at that big, cold stone, and about the remains of an extraordinary life lying behind it, in the damp darkness. Pondering those lives whose remains are in our columbarium, I fantasize about what it will be like to see them again in heaven, and to joyously "catch up" on those relationships cut short by the sting of death. Now, standing before our garden tomb, I ponder what it will be like to greet Jesus in the same way. As I think I mentioned in an earlier blog, I have no interest in hugging him, or even a desire to ask him anything (I wouldn't manifest those behaviors if I met some contemporary luminary for whom I have great admiration, and Jesus is, well, GOD!) I would just like to join all the rest, sitting at Jesus' feet and listening to what he has to say. I love a good lecture, and I'm guessing that since his "Sermon on the Mount" made the "top ten" of all-time great lectures, he probably has a few more in him, and time will be on our side on the other side.
The danger of having this thing in the narthex is that people may just pass by and comment, rather than take time to stop, ponder, and pray. Jesus had that problem the first time around, too. In the words of Lamentations: Is it nothing to all you who pass by? His tomb, at least according to some, was in a thoroughfare where people just passed by, even as the cross itself was on Golgotha, a public place of execution. If there is one thing I have learned in my almost-65 years, it's that we miss too much if we just pass stuff by.
I hope I have time to ponder at this ginormous tomb when the stone is rolled away on Easter. As a "grassroots" theologian, I understand the resurrection, and have preached Easter sermons for 33 years thus far, but I've never had a tomb in my church at which I could stop and just imagine, as John Lennon once said. Now I do, and given the difficulty they had getting this thing built and moved into here, I'm guessing it's not leaving too soon. I should have some time alone with the empty tomb, just like I did with the stone-sealed one.
Friends, don't miss the wonder, the promise, and the love of Easter, even if you don't have a tomb as an icon upon which to meditate. This weekend, don't miss an opportunity to hear the glorious story again, the story of Jesus and his love, the story of the cross and the resurrection, and, of course, the waiting. Don't let your theology of redemption get in the way of your grasp of it, like a child holds tightly to a beloved blanket. And take some time this week to feel your redemption, and to feel how it is performing its magic of transforming you--the way you think, the way you live, and the way you love. While the cross may be a convenient symbol to wear around our necks or to display in the chancel, this Easter, the people of St. Paul's United Methodist Church have the real deal to gaze upon--a beautiful, life-sized garden tomb with a vacancy sign. He is Risen. He is Risen, indeed! Happy Easter, Yinz.
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