Wonder of Easter-Dongha

I happened to get an urge to take a look at the world's major religions, so I did a search on the internet to find them out. Hinduism doesn't list the founder. Zoroastrianism was founded by Zarathushtra (Zoroaster), but the notes I found in a short search didn't mention what happen to him. Buddhism developed out of the teachings of Siddhartha Gautama, but there was no mention of where he died. Shinto, a Japanese religion, also doesn't seem to have a founder.

Confucianism, founded by K'ung Fu Tzu (Confucius), doesn't mention in the short blurb what happened to its founder. Jainism, founded by Vardhamana, mentions that he fasted himself to death. Taoism was founded by Lao-Tse, and I'm not sure where he's buried. Islam was founded in 622 CE by Mohammed, and I suppose most people know where he's buried. Sikhism was founded by Shri Guru Nanak Dev Ji, but what happened to him I have no idea. Bahá'í arose from Islam in the 1800's, but doesn't seem to have a single founder one can point at. The Bible tells us that Judaism rose from a covenant between God and His chosen people.

Then there's Christianity. The New Testament tells us a lot about the travels of Jesus, His birth in Jerusalem, His travels, His message, and His death. But we Christians have nowhere to go to, to really worship Him in the lands He traveled. Oh, we can go to Bethlehem, or walk the streets of Jerusalem, or travel along the dusty roads He once walked, but there's no famous gravesite to visit. Only an empty tomb.

And so we celebrate something that is the most important tenet of our religion, and one that has often been overlooked by His believers. We hold most dear to our hearts one fact, that above all, signifies a promise fulfilled. A promise He made to His apostles, and a promise He repeated at His trial before the Sanhedrin. A Temple destroyed, and rebuilt in three days. An empty tomb. A stone rolled away. An empty space, where a broken, torn, maimed body was laid to rest by those who loved Him. The shroud that covered Him, now covered nothing. On a Friday, they executed Him, after horrible torture. On Saturday, He rested on a slab in a tomb, guarded by soldiers. On Sunday, the tomb was empty.

Any attempt I make to consider the enormity of that fact leaves me in wonder. No church with thousands of members, no cathedral, no museum, no path, no site, no matter how revered, can match the wonder of the greatest symbol of Christian faith. Not the healing of the ill, not casting out demons, nor raising the dead, not feeding the multitudes, not the cross to which Her was nailed, nothing is as wonderful as the ultimate symbol of a promise fulfilled to the faithful. An empty tomb.

The Son of a virgin, raised by a carpenter, most likely learning the craft of the man who raised Him, until He began His ministry. A short time, because He was seen as a troublemaker, a rabble-rouser, in a nation under the control of Imperial Rome. And so they trumped up charges, tried Him before the Sanhedrin, sent him to Pilate, then to Herod, then back to Pilate, and finally He was executed. They took that maimed body down and took it away to a tomb. A tomb now empty.

He took on the sin of the world, and allowed Himself to be a sacrifice to wash all those sins away, to give all of mankind a second chance. He walked among us, healed us, taught us, loved us, and died a horrible death to set us free. Yet even in extremis, He welcomed yet one more who believed, a thief who cried out to Him, "Lord, remember me when You come into Your Kingdom." Giving still His all, He promised "Today, you shall be with Me in Paradise". And the symbol of a promise fulfilled was, what?

An empty tomb.

Not a cross. Not a cathedral. Not words from a Man of God. There are so many that have carried His message down through the ages, from His apostles, to Paul, to Luke, a Greek physician, to even such contemporary giants as Billy Graham. But the greatest message of all resides somewhere outside of Jerusalem, somewhere in a Garden where soldiers guarded a stone slab the ended up being rolled away.

I wrote something once. I enclose it here.

Lucillus Stayed Awake

Angrily I walked, down rubbled road;
at camp my men would feel my fire!
I'd faced the mighty wrath of Pilate,
now my men in turn would face my ire.

I burst into a sand floored room, in
a barracks made of clay and stone;
twas not much comfort in this land
but we, all soldiers, called it home.

"Ten sleeping men to guard a body"
were the words that first I spake.
'Could not one of you remain alert?'
One said, "Lucillus was awake."

"Tell me, Lucillus, what you saw
when the night turned into day!"
He answered slowly, smiling, and
said "The stone, it rolled away."

"He stepped out slowly, from the tomb
and He turned and smiled at me,
He gently touched my shoulder,
said "You are the first to see."

Lucillus then laid down his sword,
placed it slowly on the sand;
and said "No more will I take
someone's life, He has stayed my hand."

The peace I saw, there in his eyes
I'd ne'er seen before that day;
the day Lucillus stayed awake
while the stone was rolled away.

Now he and I and others, of the
command we'd left that day
had a new Prince for a leader
for we follow in His way.

We might have missed the message
and out souls would be at stake
but we chose the path of Heaven
because Lucillus stayed awake.

What is the greatest symbol of our faith?

An empty tomb.

NOTE: Copyright 04/09/04 by Dave Hoffman

Use granted to all who identify author.