The Mosaic

Easter as small as a seed - 
On Easter we read the story of the resurrection from the gospel according to Mark. Mark’s gospel account of the Easter event is by far the shortest and includes the least amount of detail. In Mark’s gospel Jesus makes no cameo. There’s no savior mistaken for a gardener outside the empty tomb. There’s no meal shared with travelers on the road to Emmaus. There’s no Jesus appearing through locked doors, no “touch my wounds and place your fingers in my side.” There’s no beach encounter between Peter and the risen Lord. No ascension and no commission. The women visit the empty tomb and are simply told by a young man in white that Jesus has risen and gone ahead of them to Galilee.

There’s something comforting about the lack of grandeur in Mark’s gospel. For many of us, Easter doesn’t feel as triumphant as we think it should, but Mark’s gospel helps us with that. There’s still the proclamation of the good news, but it’s kept pretty open-ended, giving us space to consider what we’ll do with the news.

On Sunday, I mentioned the following poem. I offer it to you again hoping that however small it is, Easter brings you some hope - hope enough that can grow in the underbelly of the world, brimming with potential for life.

Keep your proclamations of grandeur.
Give me an easter as small as a seed.
One that can be planted while it’s still cold outside.
One that can be watered with tears,
and demands time and patience to grow.

I don’t need to know how large it will become,
how long until it blossoms,
or even if it will be pretty.
I only want it to grow roots that dig deep down,
striving for life in the underbelly of the world.

Spare me the cosmic promises of other-worldly escape
and point me to the Sacred possibilities within reach.

Tell me again about how the nutrients born from decay
keep even the saddest places brimming with potential for life.