The Easter season brings with it some very provocative and challenging images, one of which is the empty tomb, with the stone rolled away, and Jesus missing from the tomb, but palpably sensed and seen in some of the post-resurrection stories, like appearing to the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

In all four Gospels, the tomb is found empty, with the stone that had sealed it rolled away. Mark’s gospel ends with people afraid, as they stare into a tremendous unknown and flee. Matthew’s gospel adds joy: "And they departed quickly from the sepulchre with fear and great joy."

As a wonderful magazine, “Weavings,” has commented, "The women’s fear at the empty tomb may be the terror of finding oneself in the presence of an unmistakable act of God... Would we have done any better?”

Dear Friends... tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the beginning of what our tradition calls Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter.  Many church services will highlight Jesus' fateful entrance into Jerusalem, a visit that is the beginning of events that will lead to his death.

Lent culminates in this week, and for years, the words that have cut to the heart of the matter for me have come from a friend and mentor, the Rev. William Dols, the former editor of a wonderful resource called The Bible Workbench.   What I love about this approach is that it brings the story home, and asks us to look in the mirror, and encourages us not to keep these potent stories at arm's length. 

In many churches this weekend, they will read from the Gospel of John, Chapter 11, the story of Lazarus, the man who had been dead for days and entombed, and left behind grieving relatives and friends.

There is a retreat center I have been to where they use the Lazarus story as emblematic for us all, because what Jesus does when he gets to the tomb—simply, incredibly—is what we are all called to receive, and to do, in our own lives.

In the story, Jesus comes to the tomb and demands the crowd roll away the stone. Jesus calls loudly, "Lazarus, come out!"

“Remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return.” (Genesis 3:19).

Those are the words many of us heard this past week on Ash Wednesday, the beginning of the church season called Lent. 

Whether you went to an Ash Wednesday service, or were just startled by the sight of all the dirtier than usual foreheads in the city, this season is rich with food for thought, much of it misunderstood. I think some of the words associated with this season are meant to be both savored and wrestled with.

In what is still a new year, and still the season of Epiphany, when we are asked to look for what is manifesting, what is showing up in our lives that is new, I found myself drawn yet again to the Biblical concepts of time, and how rich they are.

The Bible has two words for time: chronos—that straight line, chronological time that is so useful, and presumably gets me places on time, keeps the calendars turning, etc. We live by this version of time, as if there were no other.