In light of Easter Sunday, the tomb of Holy Saturday stands revealed as a womb. For, from between the pallid, indolent thighs of Death, the Resurrection is born. A new flesh is birthed into the world. Jesus, in rising from the dead, has given us de facto proof that death is nothing like an end at all—it is more akin to the transition of fetus to infant. Christ, unlike Lazarus even, began living a new kind of existence after his death. It is this new existence that is offered for us to taste now, and in which later, after our own passing, we are invited to lavishly indulge.
Though, please don’t misunderstand. There is continuity. Jesus was recognizable (when he wanted to be); he had his body still with its wounds—only it was all different somehow. Somehow, it wasn’t quite the same, was it?
It is beyond our current understanding, and I think that’s okay. Mysteries like the Resurrection are to be revered and courted not straight-jacketed, not beaten with a hose.
+ Br. Joseph Michael Fino, CFR
Bronx, NY
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