In the age of immediate answers and excessive knowledge, forget everything you know about Easter.
Forget the way your family celebrates on Sunday.
Forget the pictures of the Man on the cross.
Forget the egg-laying giant bunny that trespasses on your lawn.
Forget it all.
But why?
Whether you believe and follow the Man on the cross or not, the knowledge we have about Easter breeds apathy for the story and what it means. Knowledge is beautiful and a privilege but when emphasized and idolized- especially with the Scriptures- it sterilizes instead of enlightens. It gives us facts instead of understanding. It gives us theological bullets to be fired in arguments, to hurt instead of heal.
I want to invite you to imagine the next four days as a spectator to the events that happened to the Man called Jesus from Nazareth. Picture yourself in the story on the page. Let your apathy fall away as you let yourself feel the sand under your feet, taste the wine, hear the bread breaking, smell the freshness of the garden of Gethsemane.
THURSDAY
Imagine walking with Judas on the way to name a price for the life one of His closest friends. Follow him through the crowds on the way to the temple. He doesn’t want to be recognized by anyone he has healed or prayed for, on the way to his betrayal. His head is covered and he lifts the collar of his shirt to cover his nose and mouth. Weaving through the crowd, his face is down until he reaches the priests. You watch him whisper his plan to the pleased leaders of religion. And you are left there watching Judas walk away with his head uncovered, with no shame, and 30 pieces of silver as a prize. (Sidenote: 30 silver pieces is equivalent to around $600 today.)
Imagine you woke up after having a strange dream about someone needing your attic for a feast. It wasn’t just a dream though. You try to busy yourself but you keep coming back to the thought that your attic needs to be prepared for Passover. Going upstairs and seeing through the dust, you find thirteen chairs. Confused, but with a sense of purpose, you dust off the table and open the windows. Now you wait.
Imagine seeing Jesus break the loaf of bread into pieces. You are used to His stories and parables, but this time as He speaks about His body, tears rim His eyes and the room falls into silence. His hand shakes as He reaches for the wine in front of Him.
Imagine climbing up the Mount of Olives in a pack led by one of the followers of the Man you have been sent to find. Pushing aside confusion you are filled with passion against the One who has been threatening your beliefs, disrespecting your priests, and ruining your traditions. Up ahead you see Him. He’s already standing and facing this way, was He expecting us? It couldn’t be. The betrayer finishes his job by kissing the Man on the cheek. Out of the corner of your eye you see a glint of silver in the moonlight. You step backwards and raise your hands as you duck the blade coming for your throat. It misses the target but catches you still. You cry out and grab for where your ear used to be. The Man yells out as your attackers steps back and hangs his head. He reaches down, meets your eyes while replacing your hand from the side of your head with His. In an instant the pain is gone. He is led away as your hand reaches up to prove that His restoration is real.
FRIDAY
Imagine standing before a crowd on the verge of becoming a mob. Sure, the Man was cryptic when you questioned Him, but He isn’t criminal. It feels as if the whole weight of Rome is on your shoulders as the crowd shouts. What would happen to you if they revolted? Your job is to keep the peace, and the price for peace in the city is, for some reason, this innocent Man. The yelling crowd quiets, then erupts in cheers. The Man is led away as you turn back into the palace.
Imagine the disbelief as your fellow soldiers are laying the cross down and preparing the nails. The Man refused the wine. He is going to die anyway, but He doesn’t have to feel it, just take the cup and drink. Still he refuses. The other two men drink the wine. You can see their eyes dull and shoulders drop as the gall takes effect.
Imagine the grins carried by the priests. As they work in the temple, they are replaying their victory for God in their heads. Wishing they could see the crucifixion, the fulfillment of years of work finally coming, but to watch would be unholy. And they are set apart as holy, aren’t they? Unnerved by darkness falling at the height of the day, they responded “God has plan,” when others came to them afraid and confused. In an instant, the ground started shaking, the priests run to steady the holy instruments before they fell, but they stopped at the sound of fabric tearing. They fell to their knees in disbelief as the veil separating the holy of holies from the rest of the world, split from the top to the bottom.
Imagine hearing the news. The Man is dead. His followers have scattered. The ones who freely followed Him are hiding. And you, who has followed from the shadows, is filled with courage as you coming out of hiding into the presence of the Roman general. With his permission you wrap the body of Jesus in fresh cloth. Sorrow overcomes your fear as you see each trench in His back from the whips, you see the scratches from the thorns, you see the bruises from the guards. You see it all and wish for another chance to follow Him again, out of the shadows this time.
SATURDAY
Imagine the sun rising. The silence of Sabbath usually brings peace to your spirit, but today it is hollow and haunting. It is almost as if the whole world is mourning the loss of your Teacher with you. But you know that outside the walls of the house you are hiding in, no one else has even considered Jesus of Nazareth this morning. You yawn and rub the little sleep you managed from your eyes. Bringing your hands from your eyes your nose catches the scent on your hands, and you recall mixing spices and ointments for His body late into the night. The smell brings tears as you pray.
SUNDAY
Imagine walking into the tomb. You are out of breath, partly from running, but also out of fear. You walk past the linen that wrapped His body. Running your fingers over it, you notice His blood dried on the innermost layers. And where His head was, the cloth is… folded? In disbelief you reach for it and hold it out to John. As his fingers reached out for the cloth in your hands, your eyes met as disbelief turned to belief.
Imagine hearing that He was back. But how? You decide you won’t believe it until you see it yourself. You have all met here to talk about it. You can feel the terror in the room as each person continuously glimpses at the door to make sure it is still locked, at the windows to make sure they are still sealed. With each shout on the street, the blood drains from your face. They killed the Teacher. What would stop them from killing His followers? Your thoughts spiral as the others whisper in hushed tones. It’s too much, as you go to rest your head in your hands, you hear the floor creak behind you. Gasps come from around the room and fear floods your body as you hear His voice ring out, “Peace be with you.”
The Bible is not full of details. I believe it leaves things out for two reasons,
1. imagine how long it would be with all the details! Sheesh.
2. it invites us to play with the words on the page and grasp a deeper understanding, not through knowledge, but by forgetting what we think we know and experiencing truth freshly each time.
