Empty tomb, full hearts

The empty tomb is a strange place ... the two tiny rooms lie within an  elaborate 'edicule' [or shrine] now in such poor condition that scaffolding supports it as it awaits its own resurrection. 'Holy Sepulchre'   and 'Resurrection' [Anastasis] are  both names for this Holy Church - and the site we were about to enter spoke both of  the death of hopes and the death of death itself.

Under the stern eye of guardians from different churches, I stand with others from our St George's College group in a queue that trails around the edicule, under the rays of light through the cupola above.  As we wait, some people nearby  sing songs from their homelands, some are clearly deep in prayer, others chat about food and hotels and touristy things, while still others focus on their phones. Yet we are all drawn here by one man, Jesus of Nazareth, and the story of his life, death and resurrection.

After an hour's wait, it is all over in a matter of minutes. Several of us are ushered into the first space where a portion of the original stone which the angels rolled away is kept right here. A brief moment for reflection and we move into the second room - where you see the candlelight in the picture above - the actual place of Jesus' s burial and of his resurrection. The surface of the shelf where Jesus's body lay is protected from  countless pilgrims' hands - and ours  - by a slab of marble. It is cool to the touch - a hard reminder of the lifeless body which lay right here so long ago, . But the candles tell another story  -  the extraordinary energy, the power-full light that blasted through the darkness of death like a laser, and, right here,  released Jesus the Christ into the cosmos, into Love for all time. 

And as we are waved outside by the queue 'manager', I thought of the disciples who ran to the tomb and crouched right here and ran to tell others what they'd seen  and Mary waiting in the mist of mourning, right here.Not recognising the resurrected Jesus in the dim dawn light, it wasn't until he called her name right here that her grief fell away like an ill-fitting cloak.

And so it is with us - with me - it's not easy to recognise Jesus when we are bogged down in busyness or poverty, suffering or anxiety,  depression or fear for the future of the world and our children and their children. 

But as soon as we stop and are still enough to hear him call our name, everything changes. 

Stop today. Right here.

Listen.