Easter Morning John 20:1-18 You know there are times that we drag our feet to a tomb of sorts. Our hopes have died, perhaps our love. We come to grieve, embalm the corpse, or touch the stone that seals in death and shuts us out. The tomb gapes wide and cracks our hearts. There’s no excuse to turn away and stumble off to find what’s left. Courage demands we enter in, wonder at bindings laid aside. Somehow that absence shocks our soul more than the dead requiring care. Out we go crying to vacant air. Tears and anger blur our eyes. A stranger comes and we accuse: “What have you done with what I loved! Give me remains that I need to tend, so I’ll spend my tears to some good end.” We may hear a voice that we thought was stilled whisper our name. The stranger becomes our closest kin. We turn to this teacher and try to cling. We cannot hold on to the one who ascends, but we are like Mary, commissioned to say that we have encountered the Risen Lord. The tomb is open and life is beyond.