Luke 24:1-4 "But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in they did not find the body."
Another shooting. Another series of violent acts. Another time in which we could have done something but failed to. In Buffalo we saw two of our nations great idols, guns and white supremacy, collide in an entirely predictable fashion.
So we are left with our continuing grief, compounded by the helplessness of the situation. Will this be the one that wakes us up to what needs to be done? Will this be the time for us to deeply repent and explore what it might mean to change our hearts? Will this finally break the fever that is our legacy of racism in America?
I wouldn't bet on it.
It's hard to acknowledge that fact. It's hard because it should be so obvious that something needs to change. It's hard because we have to face this reality so often that it is almost numbing. It is hard because we somehow still don't have the will or the strength to fix it.
This is a headline from the satirical newspaper The Onion from today:
Truth in comedy, and this is a sobering article. But what was even more sobering is the fact that since it's original publication in 2014 they have used the same headline and article (almost word for word) 20 times.
I am not a pessimistic person by nature. I do not yield to fatalism easily. But in the face of this cruel absurdity I can't help it.
This post is not an outline of steps we need to take to end this bitter cycle. This post is not a theological argument against guns or white supremacy. This post is not describing how abuse of power breeds the sort of hatred and violence that we have seen. This post is none of those things, though perhaps it should be. I know those exist on the internet right now, and I encourage you to find those and absorb what they have to say. This is the time to act, this is the time to learn, this is the time to agitate. But also this is the time to grieve.
This post is about Easter morning.
On Good Friday Jesus died and was buried. Killed by powers and authorities that would rather stir up fear and violence than see their power wane. He died in a humiliating way in the presence of his friends and enemies. They buried him in a tomb and went home to grieve. They rested in their grief on the sabbath. But then on the third day they went to the tomb.
We know the promise of Easter is that the tomb is empty. We go to the tomb and expect to see the stone rolled away, angels heralding life that conquered death.
But on that first Easter Sunday the women went to the tomb with spices to cover up the smell of a rotten corpse. On that first Sunday they went to the tomb knowing that Jesus was crucified, dead, and buried. They didn't approach with the resurrection hope that we hold in our hearts. They approached with the grief of those who lost their friend, teacher, rabbi. Lament is holy. It runs throughout our scripture. It is not a sin to grieve. It is not a sin to feel your hope fail. It is not a sin to despair at the seemingly insurmountable evil that surrounds us.
I feel like it's Easter Sunday, but I'm going to the tomb with spices. This cycle of death and pain is as immutable as the inert body that lays inside of that tomb. I grieve. Not just for Buffalo, but for Milwaukee days before that and for the violence inflicted on the Body of Christ in Irvine the following day.
I keep feeling the need to end this post with a restatement of resurrection hope. Resurrection happens whether I expect it to or not. And I will feel this way soon. But right now I need to let it be Easter morning. I need to feel this grief not because I want to be consumed by it, but so that I can be transformed by it. There are no easy answers. There are no quick solutions. The struggle against evil and sin is endless and exhausting. I am looking forward to the hope that I know I will soon feel. I'm an optimist. But today I will honor my grief.
Peace be with you all,
Jeff Fox-Kline
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