The Tomb is a Womb

He is not here, but is risen!—Luke 24:6

My granddaughter Christina was visiting from college on Black Saturday, just in time for my favorite Easter tradition—rack of lamb, red wine and The Last Temptation of Christ—until her mother got wind of my plan.“THIS MOVIE PORTRAYS JESUS AS A HOMOSEXUAL!”

I snatched the phone. “It’s the best Jesus movie.”

“It's disrespectful. Bad on Easter. I raised Christina a certain way and I don't want her watching it.”

“You haven’t seen it.”

“I don’t care. Put her back on.”

“Hi Mom, it's me again.”

“Don't let gramps make fun of our religion.”

I had no good reply and we went straight for the wine and lamb. 

Come Sunday morning, I figured Christina, a biracial young woman, would appreciate an African American congregation on the day that always packs out a church. The church stood on stilts, ark-shaped like Noah's, ready for the Flood. We took it in, and walked up a steep ramp into the vestibule to a blast of Hands up for Jesus from a youth choir, and settled in the last row by the exit.

I sensed a maternal urge arising from Christina. She began to fidget. A white guy. What’s his point? Will something crazy fly off his tongue to embarrass me and horrify the congregation? 

She needn’t have worried. I wasn’t going to treat them like guinea pigs—this was a memorial of Jesus’ miraculous death. 

Our eyes were drawn to Assistant Pastor George, the lead-in man in a yellow vest, pacing nervously on stage, exhorting the congregation to form a double line in the aisle and greet each other with joy. He exclaimed, “Only what you do for Christ will last!” At this point, something extraordinary occurred. Pastor Hinton, a six-foot-three ex-marine, came on the scene in a flowing black robe and crimson stole. Prayers and fustian praise rose from all quarters. 

Pastor George delivered a lengthy panegyric on Hinton’s powers as preacher, teacher, and prophet and the mad swirl began. Hinton grasped the pulpit with his gigantic hands and served up what the Christian imagination waits for on this holy day: the scene in the gospels, apostles so serious, stone rolled back, body gone. An angel or two with a face like lightning tells the women: He is risen. 

Hinton was in there on the catastrophe, citing Matthew 26 and arguing at length that only the leaders were involved in the plot, not the Jewish hoi polloi. In his God-like voice, he had the congregation testify, one to another, “The Jews [at large] are not to be blamed!” This was an enlightened view of the courtroom drama that sent Jesus to the gallows.

The learned Hinton paused to mop his forehead, no doubt arranging a theme in his mind: Giving Birth to a New Beginning, a spin on “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away” (Job 1:21). 

He put out his hand and landed the good news in a manner both energetic and calm: “You don’t stay in the tomb. The tomb is a womb that gives birth to new life, a new beginning. It is finished, does not mean game over.” 

Citing Lazarus brought shouts from those who stepped in the aisle to receive their pastor. 

Hinton retired to the stage to reiterate the gift of eternal life (Romans 6:23). “Christ is cooler than the Hip-Hops. Tupac Shakur couldn’t do this!” Two minutes later he was down for another tumultuous reception from the adoring crowd.

He was not yet back on stage before he began pounding the Good Book in a voice so resonant that I trembled. “Now then, who knows how many other cases have there been like Lazarus?”

There is a slight paradox: 

“Within an hour or two, the abdomen becomes bloated, rigor mortis is present. The corpse reeks. Enzymes degrade the tissues in the body. Bacteria catabolize the gastrointestinal tract, expanding outwardly, metabolizing all cells, even those of the epidermis. Flesh-eating beetles invade. Flies lay their eggs on the necrotic tissue. These hatch out tissue-eating larvae within 24 hours.”—What happens to the human body after we die? Michael Weaver, Staff, Biology/Microbiology, Merck & Co., Inc. 2005

While I was having trouble reconciling the image of flies laying eggs on eyeballs with the church hats and dresses worn by the womenfolk, Hinton clapped his hands and mingled with the people, a normal occurrence by now, exclaiming, “The Savior lives!” whereupon they leapt into the air. 

I jotted, “Electricity in the air. Death is the beginning!” Christina elbowed me. “You’re treating this as a spectacle. I hope you’re not taking notes for a story.” 

The temperature had risen noticeably. Pastor made his way back to the pulpit, again mopping his forehead. “You don’t need air-conditioning because Jesus will cool you.” 

His second point furthered us along the path from tomb to womb. “How many times has Jesus appeared without us knowing it?” (Their dreams shattered, his clinically depressed disciples didn’t recognize him.) 

Hinton’s final point lay in the text of Romans 6:9-10: death has no dominion over Him. For emphasis, he probed Revelation 1:11 in the aisle and put forth an eschatological argument that “The end of all things is discovered in the beginning of all things. Christ came out of the very womb that He had created. Produce the corpus delicti or admit that Christ is alive!” 

I wrote, “Raise a glass to the dead!”

Before I could collect myself, he was pressing the flesh with Amazing Grace, inspiration for personal redemption. Verses were repeated to “He is Alive!” provoking crescendos of clapping and spontaneous outbursts. 

Uncompromised is the way. Salvation is limited to those confessing Jesus. Lines from I Feel Good were read from the pulpit, touching off a raucous call-and-response session in the pews.

God-thumping was over. Even I had ingested the rub of his gist; keep the faith, trust in the Lord. Somehow there is no death (not really). Danger lay elsewhere. 

The congregation launched into Come on In, and church turned into a rock concert, paving the way for the dreaded altar call. Christina and I double-dared each other. A lady came forward to claim a new life. We froze. Sister (Pastor's wife) showed to advantage her spotless white gown standing with the lady, witnessing Samuel 1, “Obedience is deemed greater than sacrifice.” 

He brought the Word and now was the time to see cash. The congregation filled the offertory dishes, accompanied by much warmer mood music. For the finale, Sister acknowledged visitors and passed out Easter bags to the children—anything to get us to the finish. 

It had been a good run. The congregants wanted to be touched, provoked, surprised, and lose themselves in the stories. They sang God Be with You, and filed out into the double sunshine, daffodils springing everywhere. Hinton remained in the aisle to share the joy and lift up the needy: we’re going to pull together, we belong here, we’re somebody.

The Bible tells us the end: things will only grow worse until Jesus returns. Here, the awakening was unmistakable.