Dancing in the Tomb
by Frank Fisher, Obl OSB

To Joseph of Arimathea,
from Mary of Magdala;
Greetings to you,
brother in Christ.

I can see your face now Joseph.
You're smiling
because you know whenever I'm being formal,
its because I'm trying desperately
to keep from laughing.
And I bet you know why I'm laughing.

Yes Joseph,
they caught me again.
All those stuffy people of Magdala,
found out I've been sneaking out of the town again.
Before the morning light appears

on the first day of the week,
I've been sneaking out of town
to the tombs.
Now Magdala
may be a cosmopolitan place,
but its still small enough
for me to know everything about everyone.
So I know
which tombs are empty,
and which are sealed up.
So I go straight to an empty one,
and as the morning light dawns,
I enter it
and begin to dance.

They really think I'm strange brother Joe.
Sometimes they think those seven demons are back;
the ones the Lord cast of out me.
Some of them say they want to lock me up.
My family's important enough here
that they really wouldn't dare do that.
They just don't understand.
But I know you understand
Joe.
For you saw my first dance
in a tomb;
a dance that remains vividly in my mind
no matter how many years have passed.

I remember how it was to watch Jesus die.
When he said,
"it is finished,"
and breathed out for the last time,
it felt like the Romans had taken one of spikes
they used to nail Jesus to the cross
and jabbed it into my heart.
And when they jabbed a spear into his side
it felt like they'd hit me with it too.

They were going to throw his body
 to the wild dogs Joe;
the ones that always gather at the foot of a cross
and wait for their upcoming meal.
You know that of course.
For you were there.
I was so grateful
when you took his body down 
and helped Nicodemus carry it
to the tomb in the garden.

I didn't really want to leave him there.
It was better than having him fed to the dogs.
But it wasn't much better.
He wasn't buried with his family.
When his flesh decayed
no one would take his bones
and put them in the ossuary
with the bones of his ancestors.
For all eternity
no one would remember.
It would be almost as disgraceful
to him
as his death on the cross.

I started crying then Joe.
And I cried all that night,
all the next day,
and all the next night.
>From deep in the city
we could hear the sounds of rejoicing
from the houses of those who wanted him dead.
But around us
the only thing breaking the silence
was the sound of sobbing;
a sound that went on,
and on,
and on
until the sound of tears falling
seemed to fill the whole world.

Then,
in the darkness
on the morning of the third day,
I heard another noise.
It sounded like singing.
At first it was gentle and pretty
like the song
 the shepherds say the angels sang
in the sky above Bethlehem
on the night Jesus was born.
But then the song changed.
It got louder
and louder,
and louder.
Even though
 I couldn't make out the song's words.
I somehow knew
they were ones
of sheer, 
raw,
unadulterated power.

I ran to the window
to see if I could make out who was singing.
And I saw a blinding light
coming from the garden
where we'd buried Jesus.
I had to find out what was happening there,
so I ran out the door
and raced toward the tomb.

I was half way there
when I heard another sound.
It sounded a little like the sound
a tool maker makes
when metal is struck with a hammer.
But it was so loud
my ears almost couldn't bear it.
It almost seemed like
a giant chain
had been snapped in two.
And mixed in with the metallic sound
was the grinding of stone on stone.

When the sound stopped
I uncovered my ears
and started running toward the tomb again.
When I got there
the stone you'd put across the entrance
was shoved aside.
Someone had taken Jesus.
How could someone be so cruel
as to rip him
from the peace of his tomb?
Hadn't enough been done to him
while he was still alive?
So I turned around and ran back to the house
to tell the others.

They were horrified.
And they ran out the door 
to go look for themselves.
"Maybe,"
they said,
"we can find out who took him
and bring his body back."

It seemed forever
until they returned.
They came back
and said the tomb was empty.
They said the burial cloths
were rolled up neatly in one spot
and the cloth you'd put on his head
was lying rolled up in another place.
"Why would a grave robber 
unwrap him,"
I asked.
They said,
"we don't know."

So I went back out the door,
more slowly this time.
There didn't seem to be
any real reason to hurry.
And my returning grief
dragged at my steps.
It seemed like it took forever,
but I finally found myself standing outside the tomb.
 I just stood there
while my tears made a puddle on the ground.

I don't know how long I stood there.
But suddenly I noticed two figures
sitting on the burial niche.
One was sitting
 where we'd put his feet.
And one was sitting
 where we'd put his head.
They were singing 
the same song
that made me look out the window
before the sun rose in the sky.
But one of them stopped for a moment
and spoke to me.
"Woman,
why are you weeping?"
Between the tears
I gasped out,
"they've taken my Lord.
I don't know where they've put him."

There was a movement behind me then.
I turned around.
It was just the gardener.
He asked me,
"Woman,
why are you weeping?
Whom are you looking for?"

I wanted to ignore him
and not let him intrude on my grief.
But maybe he knew
where the Lord's body had been put.
So I sobbed,
"Sir,
if you've carried him away,
please,
please
tell me where you've put him.
I'll go there
and take his body someplace
where it'll be safe."

Then I heard my name.
The gardener called me by name.
Only it wasn't the gardener.
When I heard the word "Mary"
I knew it was the Lord.
"Teacher,"
I cried,
"Oh my beloved Teacher."

I was going to embrace him
but he stopped me.
"I've not yet ascended ,"
he said.
"Go.
Tell my sisters and brothers."

And I went.
I danced through the streets of Jerusalem,
My feet flew over the cobbles
as I sang the news
to everyone I met.
"I have seen the Lord!
I have seen the Lord!
I have seen the Lord!"

They still don't understand
Joe.
They don't understand
why I come to a tomb
on the first day of the week
and dance there
while the sun rises in the east.
But what else am I to do
on the day when our Lord arose?
I have to dance.
I have to dance
as the song I heard
 on the day when the Lord arose
rings in my ears and heart.

Dancing is harder now
Joseph
then it was on that resurrection morning.
I'm getting old.
Soon,
I know I will brought to a tomb by others
and my body will not return with them.
But Joseph
when that day comes
Don't let them walk to the tomb.
Tell them to pick up my body
and dance
and sing,
and laugh
as they carry me there.

And I will be dancing too.
For I know I'll have heard the Lord
call me again by my name.
And as I dance after the Lord
I'll hear the song
I remember so well.

You remember the words
don't you Joseph.
Somehow I knew what they were
after I saw Jesus in the garden.
Tell them to sing those words
as they dance me to my tomb.

Christ is risen!
Christ is risen!
Christ is risen!
Alleluia!
Alleluia!
Alleluia!

To God alone be glory.

Amen.

(Comments to Frank at f.fisher.obl.osb@comcast.net.)
Interim Pastor of First Presbyterian Church 
Fairbury, Illinois 
http://www.firstpresfairbury.org