A Poem for the Season of Easter

A reminder of the wondrous mystery of a “zoomed” Easter season, inspired by a beloved hymn.

Crown him with many crowns;
behold his hands and side:
rich wounds, yet visible above,
in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky
can fully bear that sight,
but downward bends his burning eye
at mysteries so bright!
(Matthew Bridges, 1851)

Easter has literally “zoomed” past us.
It was not an Easter like any other.
This year, like many others, we went through Lent

looking forward to the promise of resurrection.
Fasting would soon give way to feasting.
Pain would be overcome by joy.
The empty tomb would help us forget the painful cross.

But it was not to be.

Instead of new dresses, we went to church in our pajamas.
Instead of a joint cup of blessing, we each sat there, sipping at our private cups of coffee.
Instead of a joyful song we raised mournful plain.

Yes, we sang the old hymns about joy, and victory, and the end of death.

But joy was far. Victory was doubtful. Death was still prowling…

Years ago, the disciples gathered behind closed doors because they were afraid.

Our fear is such that we cannot even gather.

We heard, yes, the witness of those who said that He Is Risen.
We believed, yes; but, did we really?

Thomas, doubting Thomas, lurked inside each one of us.

Unless I see the marks of the nails in his hands…
Unless I put my hand in his side…

And he came!

And we cried: “My Lord and my God!”

But this time it was different.

We did not cry simply because we could now believe that he is risen.
Our cry was not just because he had conquered the tomb.

We cried in awe because…

… because he still bore the mark of the nails on his hands and the wound on his side!

Even after Easter he still bears the scars of the cross.
Even after Easter he still bears the memory and the anguish of pain.
Even after Easter he is still the one who cried: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
Even after Easter he is still one of us.

One of us in our pain.
One of us in our anguish.
One of us in our forlornness.
One who can still cry with us: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

We have now zoomed through Easter,

and are zooming toward Ascension.
When we will celebrate his rising to the highest power in heaven.
When we will once again sing: “Crown him with many crowns.”

But this time we must remember.

We must remember that he still bears the marks of the crown of thorns;
that his hands still bear the mark of the nails,
and his side the wound of the lance.

He did not just zoom through earth,

and life,
and pain,
and injustice,
and death.

He experienced the abandonment of friends.

(which was more than social distancing).
One of them betrayed him for economic gain.
Another denied him out of fear for himself.
Most others simply fled.

He experienced the frustration of religious leaders bending to the will of the powerful

– elders, experts in Scripture, priests, theologians – kneeling before the Baal of power.

He experienced the consequences of political leaders claiming no responsibility,

washing their hands, passing the buck.

He experienced the frivolous cruelty of political leaders taking his name in vain, giving him mock allegiance:

“Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews”

All this he experienced.

And he still does!

As he rose from the dead, he took his wounds with him.
As he ascended, he took his wounds with him.

The marks of the nails. The wound on his side.
He took them with him, for these are part of who he is.

As he ascended, he took our wounds with him.

He took our doubts, our rebellions, and our fears.
He took our frustrations with governments that tell us to wash our hands, while they wash their own hands of all responsibility.
He took our yearning for the message of empty tombs and empty morgues.

He ascended, but he is still with us.

He is crowned with many crowns.
But he still wears our crowns of thorns.

He is still crowned with our crowns of pain, and doubt, and grief.
He is still crowned with every crown that we may fear

– even with this corona that presses on the world’s brows.
For this too he still takes upon him.

He is still crowned in those who risk their lives for the health of others.
He is still crowned in those who collect our garbage, grow our food, keep society moving.

All of these:

our dead, our heroes, our clowns;
our pain, our grief, our anger, our folly;
our deaths and our lives;
our hopes and our frustrations;
our faith and our doubts;

all of these he took with himself.

He did not leave them here on earth
He took them to heaven with himself.
He took them into the very heart of the Godhead.

So that now, even as we live under the sign of the cross,

We still know – wondrous mystery! –

that our pain reaches into the very heart of God!

Crown him with many crowns;
behold his hands and side:
rich wounds, yet visible above,
in beauty glorified.
No angel in the sky
can fully bear that sight,
but downward bends his burning eye
at mysteries so bright!