This week, those lines make me chuckle. Our monastery is amply lit by clear glass windows that look out onto our high country valley and its bordering hills. Very early in the morning this Easter week, one of the nuns faithfully closes the blinds on the east side of the chapel to shut out the rising sun, lest it blind the nuns seated on the west side.
The sun has the last word, though. After all the blinds are firmly closed, there remains one spot where the newly risen sun shines through, bathing at least a few of our choir stalls in the glorious first light of this Easter day. So much for shutting out the sun!
And so it was at the first Easter. The authorities who had put Jesus to death made every effort to prevent any rumors of resurrection from spreading. They denied that any such thing had happened, accused the disciples of stealing Jesus' body,
And it still happens. No matter how dark the world sometimes gets, no matter how firmly disbelievers of various kinds try to bury word of the resurrection--and Jesus with it--back in some sealed tomb, the news still gets out and new disciples are added to the centuries' long accumulation of Christians that stretches back to those first believers. And wandering disciples are brought back into the Easter light, and discouraged disciples find new heart in the same words spoken at the first tomb: "He is not here. He is risen." To which we add, alleluia!
So much for shutting out the Sun of justice, risen for us too with healing in his wings! Even when the blinds are closed!