#Living Psalm: 118-1-2, 14-24_Mankin, Easter, March 31, 2024

Tread carefully, my Beloveds
when you celebrate today
because somewhere, 
somewhere, the tomb stone
hasn’t been rolled away.

Sing your praises to Me
gently, my Loves,
because somewhere
the grief is greater 
than the story.

Somewhere, the miracle
of new life is still only a promise,
an aching in the veins,
a tale told to children whose hope 
has been carried away.

I don’t say this to steal your joy
this holy day. I don’t remind you
of pain to put a damper on 
the celebration of new life
and the empty tomb.

I want you to rise and stretch,
drink water, pull out your
fancy hats, your woolly scarves,
your boots and patent leather shoes,
break the fast with me.

I want you to dance, 
embracing the ones you love -
I want you to sit together 
to eat and pray 
and remember.

Jesus rose, hands and feet 
still marked, side bloodied.
His presence was met with fear
and disbelief, and those who loved him
still grieved the man they’d lost.

He was transformed, Beloveds,
out of torture and pain,
betrayal, abandonment -
he died alone, as all must,
and that could have been the end.

But instead, Christ rose - not for feasts 
or celebrations, but to bring hope 
to the grief-stricken, to encourage each of us 
to keep going, even when the horror is refreshed daily, 
and the stone too heavy to roll away alone.

Tread carefully, my Beloveds,
when you celebrate today
because somewhere, 
somewhere, someone is crying out
for you to transform death into justice.

Rise, Loves, 
and do what must be done.
You were born with grace already upon you - 
live now with the open-tomb, Easter
risen Christ beating Love in your hearts.