Easter 2020 looks much different than usual. And I’m not even an Easter Person, being both unchurched and too lazy to find another one right now. Although, what better time?
And as someone who was raised in a religious tradition filled with miracles, I really wanted today to be the day that something WAS PROVEN. But that’s not how any of this works. I know the stories of self-isolation on an ark, of a 40-year trek to freedom, of being swallowed by a whale or shoved into a furnace and surviving.
Of being tortured and brutally executed, and rolling away the stone 3 days and walking away from it.
Nobody came in and ended it prematurely. There was no early parole from any of these atrocities. The miracle came through survival.
Of course this all falls apart when you consider the people who are suffering and dying and who will not make it through COVID-19. But I’m not a theologist. I’m just a lady in New Jersey who is missing everyone today (and every day), trying to figure things out, and hoping for the best.
Though hope is frail, it’s hard to kill.
