Where's Jesus?
Stories
Lectionary Tales For The Pulpit
Series IV Cycle C
I have a hobby that some people might think odd, if not perverse. I like to take pictures of the tombstones of famous people. That's why, in my travels, I visit the local cemetery.
I've visited the catacombs in Rome and in Paris -- full of dead men's bones, unknown and forgotten by history.
But visit Arlington National Cemetery and you'll find the grave of President John F. Kennedy and of some Supreme Court justices like Thurgood Marshall. Their earthly remains are there -- beneath the sod.
Travel to Mount Vernon and you can snap a picture of the tomb of George Washington. Go to Philadelphia and you'll find Benjamin Franklin. In Boston, walk the Freedom Trail and you'll go by the graves of Samuel Adams and other Revolutionary War figures.
In Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris, you'll find Guy de Maupassant, the writer. Jean Paul Sartre, the famous existentialist philosopher, is buried there, too, and Simone de Beauvoir, his life-long companion, is buried on top of him, or above him.
At Pere LaChaise in Paris, you'll find the composer Chopin. His remains are right there, crowded in among thousands of others like Oscar Wilde and The Doors' Jim Morrison. Napoleon lies in a magnificent vault in Paris. If you know where to look, you can find many others, such as Voltaire and Victor Hugo.
Some famous people are interred in churches. At the Church of Santa Crocia in Florence, you'll find Galileo and Michelangelo. There -- lying in a church.
In Rome, the remains of popes lie in the crypt of St. Peter's Basilica, and the remains of the apostles Peter and Paul are said to be in Rome as well.
Of course, I sometimes visit the grave sites of people who are not famous -- like my family. I've got aunts and uncles in marked graves in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I have family members in plots in the little village of Clarksville, Iowa. My dad is buried in a small rural cemetery outside of Fort Lupton, Colorado. I visit these graves to remember. It helps to locate the place where the mortal remains of my loved ones are interred.
I've got pictures of all these places, and the tombstones and markers of people who lie beneath or within.
But I've traveled to Israel, too. More than once. Every time, I go to the garden tomb where they laid Jesus over 2,000 years ago. I take pictures.
Every time it's the same. The tomb is open. It's empty.
He is not there.
He is risen.
I've visited the catacombs in Rome and in Paris -- full of dead men's bones, unknown and forgotten by history.
But visit Arlington National Cemetery and you'll find the grave of President John F. Kennedy and of some Supreme Court justices like Thurgood Marshall. Their earthly remains are there -- beneath the sod.
Travel to Mount Vernon and you can snap a picture of the tomb of George Washington. Go to Philadelphia and you'll find Benjamin Franklin. In Boston, walk the Freedom Trail and you'll go by the graves of Samuel Adams and other Revolutionary War figures.
In Montparnasse Cemetery in Paris, you'll find Guy de Maupassant, the writer. Jean Paul Sartre, the famous existentialist philosopher, is buried there, too, and Simone de Beauvoir, his life-long companion, is buried on top of him, or above him.
At Pere LaChaise in Paris, you'll find the composer Chopin. His remains are right there, crowded in among thousands of others like Oscar Wilde and The Doors' Jim Morrison. Napoleon lies in a magnificent vault in Paris. If you know where to look, you can find many others, such as Voltaire and Victor Hugo.
Some famous people are interred in churches. At the Church of Santa Crocia in Florence, you'll find Galileo and Michelangelo. There -- lying in a church.
In Rome, the remains of popes lie in the crypt of St. Peter's Basilica, and the remains of the apostles Peter and Paul are said to be in Rome as well.
Of course, I sometimes visit the grave sites of people who are not famous -- like my family. I've got aunts and uncles in marked graves in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. I have family members in plots in the little village of Clarksville, Iowa. My dad is buried in a small rural cemetery outside of Fort Lupton, Colorado. I visit these graves to remember. It helps to locate the place where the mortal remains of my loved ones are interred.
I've got pictures of all these places, and the tombstones and markers of people who lie beneath or within.
But I've traveled to Israel, too. More than once. Every time, I go to the garden tomb where they laid Jesus over 2,000 years ago. I take pictures.
Every time it's the same. The tomb is open. It's empty.
He is not there.
He is risen.
