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 The house was full of sounds. And before I could
even take them all in, there was the sound of goodbyes and hugs and
“I love you’s” and cars leaving our driveway. Then there was
silence, or so I thought.
I sat in the deck chair outside for a while. I slipped into rest
mode desiring just a quick moment of peace and quiet. But before I
could catch my breath, the world outside came to life. Birds
chirping, last year’s leaves rustling, tree limbs clapping in the
wind, water gurgling from the neighbor’s sump pump; they all started
their songs.
When was the last time you just sat outdoors, closed your eyes, and
listened to the world around you?
It was just this moment that got me thinking about Easter and what
Jesus heard the last week of his life. The nay of a donkey, the
cheers and songs of a crowd as he rode into Jerusalem, the tinging
of coins falling to the ground from overturned tables, the sound of
bleating lambs prepared for sacrifice, 30 pieces of silver in a
sack, the splashing of water as he washed his disciples’ feet, the
sounds of his own voice in the garden, and finally of swords
clattering as they bounce against armor.
More sounds would come at the trial; the gasp of shock, angry tones,
the loud smack of a slap across his face, a fist hitting cheek
bones, the third crow of a rooster. I also
considered the sounds of the final hours; the crack of a whip, the
noise of weakened feet trying to take the next step, a cross
bouncing off stones as it was dragged, the clanging of a hammer
striking spikes, the groans, the cries, jeers from the crowd, the
conversation between two thieves, and his mother’s sobs.
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What Jesus would have loved to have heard was the
heavenly Father’s deep voice once more. But even from heaven,
nothing! He hears his own voice: “My God, My God, why have you
forsaken me?” And then silence. The heavy breathing stopped. The
gurgling sound of lungs drowning in blood became motionless. The
sounds of his heart beating in his ears ceased.
I doubt Jesus heard anything after all that. The noise of death is
silence. He didn’t hear the sound of stone rolling against stone. At
least not at first. Oh, but three days later he did. He may not have
heard the tomb close, but he certainly heard it open.
Above all the sounds of Easter, the grinding of stone means the
most. For a world without hope, all they can see and hear is stone
against stone in closure.
Yet for the Christian, all we can hear is stone against stone in the
greatest opening of all time. Dare we come closer? Dare we look
inside? What will we see? A decaying body? By no means! An empty
tomb? Definitely. But then reality sets in. Could it really be true?
It’s not an ending at all, but a new beginning!
In 1 Corinthians 15, Paul points out that without the resurrection
of Jesus, there is no hope. If he wasn’t raised from the dead, then
all our faith doesn’t mean a thing and we should be pitied above all
men for falling for such a great farce as resurrection. But Paul
goes on to point out that it is all true. Jesus did come back from
the dead and now we all have this same promise. Death does not win.
Life goes on and on and on and on . . .
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