Sharing this excerpt from The Rev. Kendyl Gibbons on one meaning of the Easter Story.

The Humanist speaks of Easter

There are only two things that we know for sure.

One, they stashed Jesus’s body in a tomb –

temporarily, until they could get a chance to bury it properly –

and when they came back, the tomb was empty.

Make of that what you will.

There are many possible explanations, some more likely than others.

I don’t believe that Jesus came back from the dead.

Neither did Martin, or Malcolm.

Neither did Viola Liuzzo,

or Frozan Safi, the women’s rights activist shot by the Taliban in Afghanistan last November.

Neither will dismembered journalist Jamal Kashogi,

or Aleksei Navalny when he dies in a Russian prison.

Neither will documentary filmmaker Brent Renaud, or photographer Maksim Levin,

both killed by invading armies in Ukraine.

Kevin Strickland and Lamonte McIntyre will not get back the stolen decades of their lives.

I don’t believe that the crucifixion is a story with happy ending,

or that it was a one time event.

It happens over and over as the human journey unfolds.

It happens to us, and to the people we love;

It happens to the righteous, and the innocent.

Crucifixion happens, and it feels like the end of the world, every time.

It feels like nothing could matter any more, ever.

And then…

And then, inevitably and miraculously,

Something happens next.

Something happens. Of course it does.

Because the world hasn’t ended, yet.

It’s not always an empty tomb – how trite would that become?

Mostly, the beloved bodies just lie right there, peacefully decomposing.

But something happens, and whether we want it or not, a new chapter begins.

Maybe the sun comes up, or the lilies do. Spring rolls around. That happens.

Or memories come. Or someone needs you.

You eat food; that happens. You walk down the road, and share a recollection.

Life happens, keeps happening,

The dead don’t rise – but we do.

One day, it happens; you take a breath, and it doesn’t hurt to breathe.

You start to see people again, really see them.

Hope rises. Community rises. You rise. We rise. Life rises.

Not because death isn’t real; crucifixion is not just pretend.

But something else is just as real, maybe even more real.

Something happens next –

That is the other thing we know for sure.

Life rises. Outrage rises. Love rises. Faith rises. Tears rise. Hope rises.

This, I do believe.