He is risen. He is risen indeed!
Early Sunday morning one of the friends comes back with rags and a jug of water and a box of the grave spices that are supposed to cut down on the smell. She’s braced for the task. But when she comes to the grave she finds that the linens have been thrown into the corner and the body is gone. Evidently anonymous burial isn’t quite anonymous enough after all.
She sits outside in the sun. Here at the edge of the desert the insects have woken up. A bee is nosing about in a lily. The lily is like silk thinly tucked over itself, but much more perishable. It won’t last long. She takes no notice of the feet that appear at the edge of her vision. That’s enough now, she thinks. That’s more than enough.
Don’t be afraid, says Yeshua. Far more can be mended than you know. She is weeping. The executee helps her to stand up.
Adapted from Unapologetic by Francis Spufford
#Easter2023, 25/42