Photo by Caspar Rae on Unsplash
Karen Hollis | April 20, 2025
Easter Sunday
First Reading: Ode of Solomon 17:6-17
[Christ speaks]
All who saw me were astonished,
I seemed to them like a stranger.
The one who knew and made me great
Is the Most High, in all fullness.
He glorified me by his kindness
And raised my understanding to the height of Truth.
And from there he gave me the way of his paths,
And I opened the doors which were shut.
I destroyed the bars of iron,
Since my own irons had boiled and melted away before me.
Nothing appeared closed to me anymore,
Because I was the opening of everything.
I turned toward all of my captors, in order to dissolve them,
So that I would not leave anyone bound or binding.
And I gave my knowledge without envy,
And my petition in my love.
And I sowed my fruits in hearts,
Then transformed them through me.
And they received my own gift and they lived,
They were gathered to me, and were freed.
Because they became my members
And I was their head.
Lord Anointed One, glory to you! Halleluiah!
John 20:1-18 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus's head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed, for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes. But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, "Do not touch me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord," and she told them that he had said these things to her.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be reflections of your word to us today, in Christ’s name we pray. Amen
The stone is rolled away, and resurrection is happening all over the world today in big ways and small ways. Through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, it is easier for us to recognize the resurrection God brings forth in our everyday lives and world. God brings forth life from the ashes of Good Friday and the spaciousness of Holy Saturday. I come today with a resurrection story from my own life that is emerging even as I speak. When I was 14 years old, I received a cello for Christmas – it was gifted to me through someone at my church. It was a gorgeous instrument and a much higher quality than I ever would have had otherwise. Over the 17 years I had it, we bonded over the music of Bach, Rachmaninoff, pop tunes, Disney tunes, Jimmy Hendricks once, some Carrie Newcomer, so many hymns, and contemporary Christian music. I played in symphonies, ensembles, duos, rock bands, and more.
In the summer of 2011, I moved into a 325 square foot apartment during a big life transition, and as I downsized, I remember specifically thinking, well I’m not downsizing my cello, that’s non- negotiable. A few weeks later I happened to have my cello with me when I gathered for a sweat lodge with some friends. Due to my own mistake, my cello was run over by a vehicle. The vehicle that ran over it was carrying the grandfather stones that were to be heated in the bonfire before being brought into the sweat lodge for the ceremony of purification and renewal. That fact caught my attention.
I was in shock – my sister and I had always joked that the cello case was indestructible – you could run over that thing with a truck. Well, not true. With my cello suddenly in pieces and I thought about what to do. I had an overwhelming clarity that I needed to bury it. This was a death, so burial. I took the neck and finger board and placed it in the fire with the grandfather stones. We dug a grave right there on the property and buried the instrument in the ground. It was quite an ordinary experience and the right thing to do.
Sometime in the following weeks, I called the insurance company to make a claim . . . they said the cello needed to be appraised before they could issue any payment. So, I had to go back to the property and dig it up. Over the month or so it was in the ground, the moisture in the soil dissolved the glue that held it together. (next slide, raw pieces of cello) All of the seams came apart and the slivers of wood that supported the connections came loose. It looked like bones . . . the ground served as a kind of tomb, where in the first century Jewish practice, bodies, like the body of Jesus, were placed for a year to decompose. Then the tomb was opened and the bones that remained would find their final resting place in a stone box called an ossuary.
So, now I had these bones, these pieces of cello and some spaciousness to process the loss. I kept imagining the instrument in expanded form, as if one took all the pieces and put space between them, drawing them outward. A friend of mine suggested I contact a local art gallery on Vashon Island, where we were living, and see if we could collaborate on an a project. A photographer friend of mine took some photographs and as we began creating, my grief, which was once raw and sharp, began to find shape and meaning in being witnessed by my community, like with the women who watch Jesus’ crucifixion, and witness his burial. I needed my story witnessed.
The art show came together as a collaboration between a few gallery members, some friends, and me – with each of us offering a piece of the whole. We displayed the cello as I had envisioned, in a kind of expanded view, with space between the pieces, releasing what was once so solid and resonant. (I did purchase another cello, just so I would have something to play on – that’s it in the background.)
Years passed. We eventually repurposed these boxes at the top and bottom as garden boxes, and the cello pieces sat in the garage, with the intention of reburial. A family member wondered with me what new life might look like after this death. They contacted a luthier and found that gluing the cello back together, with some new piece, of course, was actually a viable option. I was stunned to learn that it could be fixed at all. My thoughts and feelings became a jumble. I had spent so much time letting go and grieving in a very public way. Did I make a fuss over this loss unnecessarily? Could it all just be put back together? I realized I hated everything about the idea of gluing the cello back together, and not just because it made me question my choices . . . I wondered if the new seams glued together could really be trusted to hold . . . I wondered what kind of voice it would have – it couldn’t possibly be the same. It just wasn’t the right path. It felt forced. I thought a lot about resurrection and discussed it with those around me. Do we trust that after a death, out of the spaciousness that follows, new life will emerge? Do you believe resurrection will happen on its own? Do you trust God’s work in this way?
Piecing my cello back together didn’t feel like resurrection. The thing about resurrection is that it cannot be controlled. It can’t be shaped to fit our expectations. Resurrection won’t look like a cello put back together . . . it won’t look like Jesus back in his human body. It will look like something else, it will express as something else, something new. God’s resources are vast, and God brings new life into being beyond our wildest dreams. We are invited to soften our resistance, lay down our plans, and open ourselves to receive.
More years passed and the cello pieces continued to sit in a box, always with the intention of reburial. Along the way, I kept wondering – why this death? What is this all about? The fact that the accident happened at a sacred ceremony remained with me as a mystery that wouldn’t settle on easy answers or simple truths.
As we began to pack up to move here, I finally made a plan. On the edge of our yard on Gabriola, there was an unkept space with underbrush, fallen branches, evergreens, and a cedar tree. I went out one day just before dusk, and dug a grave behind the cedar tree and gave thanks, while playing some Bach through in my head. I placed the pieces of cello in the grave and covered them up with soil. After that long journey, it finally found its resting place.
I decided last year to retire from playing the cello. I know that makes a lot of people sad, including me. Life is short and I want to put my time toward some other things.
I think over the past few months, could be longer . . . I’ve started to see flashes of us playing Bach. It might happen when I offer my voice in leadership in a new way, when I sing in public . . . it seems to be related to my voice and to my leadership. It’s as if the self-expression that matured through my cello playing, that before could only speak through the instrument, through vibration and notes, is now finding words. I don’t quite have my finger on it, but resurrection, it seems, is happening now. It’s like Jesus speaking to Mary, don’t cling to me . . . I’m not tangible, but you will see me, I am with you.
I think about the world today, how it seems to be coming apart at the seams. Something is over that we will need to grieve. As we journey on, we will care for one another, we will advocate for the common good, we will join our voices together. From time to time, we will gather in the spaciousness . . . from time to time we will open ourselves to the new life that is emerging in our midst. Just as things are coming apart, resurrection is happening here and all around the world today. This cycle is constant – at any given moment, renewal is unfolding at every stage of the process. Out of this mess, God is creating with us something new, something beautiful, something that is just what we need for the journey forward. Alleluia! Thanks be to God.