Did it ever occur to you to wonder about the weather on that first Easter morning? I don’t know why but it has loomed large in my consciousness these past few days.
The gospels are of little help since there is no record of the actual moment. The women were on the road “very early... when the sun had risen”, “at early dawn” or “while it was still dark”. That adds to the confusion, doesn’t it? Matthew tells us that “as the first day of the week was dawning” there was an earthquake and the angel rolled back the stone to reveal an empty tomb to the guards, but Jesus had already left.
So we have only our imaginations to help us as Jesus pierces the barriers of death and goes to his Father. We don’t know if he stepped out into the fresh dawn of early spring or bypassed it completely. I know only that he loved this earth where he so frequently had begun his day by going out to pray. After the close mustiness of the tomb, could anything rival the beauty of the garden where that tomb was located?
Mary of Magdala would find him there later and mistake him for a gardener, so this must have been carefully tended... What a lovely place to find her Lord after the pain of her loss. Amazing, isn’t it, that, although Jesus was careful to tell his disciples that he would rise on the third day, not one of them came to see if that might be true. They were too overwhelmed by loss.
And so, on the most important day in the history of the world, when humankind would have proof that death was not forever, we have no record of sun or temperature. We might think we would have done better, but would we? And does it matter?
I think we can put meteorology aside and just keep repeating to ourselves this week: “He is risen as he said. Alleluia”. If that word is true, so are all his others to us. It makes for spiritual sunshine.