Liminality

Matthew’s version of the resurrection intrigues me. Peter and the Beloved Disciple believe in Jesus’ resurrection at the sight of the empty tomb, but Mary Magdalene doesn’t. She thinks the body is stolen. Mary is skeptical. Her broken heart and disbelief overwhelm her to tears. Immediately, though, two angels appear and ask, “Why do you weep?” She replies, “They’ve taken my Lord’s body!” Then, as if heaven opens and the angels tell her to turn and see, Mary meets her resurrected Lord. This detail strikes me because of its timeliness. At the single most intense moment of Mary’s doubt, when all else fails, when she completely gives in, when even angels themselves can’t make her believe, or hope against hope, or turn from despair . . . Jesus appears. And it’s the same today as it was then. The very moment we feel as if all hope is lost, Jesus appears. For at humanity’s worst, divinity is at her best. That’s the story of Mary Magdalene and the empty tomb. Tha

Luke describes Jesus’ triumphal entry like this: “As he was now approaching the path down from the Mount of Olives, the whole multitude of disciples began to praise God joyfully with a loud voice for all the deeds of power that they have seen, saying “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the LORD.” Interestingly, there’s no parade from the people of Jerusalem. It’s the disciples screaming in the streets about the divinity of the donkey riding king. It doesn’t appear anyone in Jerusalem cares about Jesus. They don’t shout, wave palms, or lay down cloaks. Not in Luke. Jerusalem doesn’t burst with excitement or with anger. They just move on as if nothing happened. Divinity is right in their midst, and they do nothing. If we’re honest with ourselves we’d admit divinity meets us every morning for coffee and we fail to realize its significance. Jesus intersects in our lives but we move on as if nothing happened. My senior year of college I volunteered to be a