Christ said that blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted. I’ve wondered if this was foreshadowing the mourning of his disciples at His crucifixion. I wonder if Mary muttered those words as a prayer after her son was brutally murdered. I wonder if Peter could hear the words echoing as he lamented his betrayal of Jesus right before he was killed.

What delight it must have brought for a gardener to be revealed as the risen Lord. Were the first evangelists of the resurrection experiencing the comfort they had prayed for as they shared the good news with the rest of the disciples?

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted, by this resurrection or the one to come!

Mourning fits quite nicely with the season of Lent. Death, lament, and repentance seem to surround us from the moment ashes are pressed into our forehead on that solemn and holy Wednesday. As our stomachs growl with hunger and our flesh cries out for relief from the fasting, we are reminded we are merely dust in need of divine mercy. The Eucharist sustains us, a broken body and spilled blood sacrificed for us at regular mass, without it we become ravenous and contentious. Grief fills the air around us, our hearts contrite from sin and our bodies weary from loss.

And then our Lord is hung naked before us. Immediately following him washing our feet and feeding us his body, we deny him, we sell him out and we yell out in anger “Crucify him!” He is whipped in our wrath, his body beaten because of our lust, his head crowned with our shame, his hand pierced because of our unforgiving words.

We dare to watch his side be pierced and weep bitterly. The funeral of our Lord is both celebrated and orchestrated by the very ones who caused his life to end. We remember his hands cleansing our feet. We reflect on his words of kindness and tender kisses. What have we done? What will we do?

Silence and darkness fill the room like a noxious gas slowly stealing our lives.

And then, the unfathomable. He beats death and changes everything. His resurrection seems to cause our words to be echoed back to us, “Crucify Him!” How is it that we could do even this, and he still overcame it? He must truly be the Christ he said he was!

Death is defeated, and because of that, our mourning is not in vain. We find our comfort in this resurgence which restored our Lord and has promised to restore all things to come.

No longer are we bound by the death of this world, but we have an inheritance in the everlasting life of new creation. A new life where creation no longer groans, but delights. A world without sickness, where cancer no longer ravages families. A world where friendships are mended not broken. A world where furry and feathered friends run through fields, and where diverse plans no longer are subjected to harsh GMOs. A world where extinction is reversed and death is no longer needed. A world where the departed are returned to us, and mourning ceases to encapsulate us.

Some of this happens now, by the resurrection that has taken place. Most will happen in the resurrection to come. And perhaps that is what is most beautiful of what Christ accomplished when he rose from the grave. He authored in us something the world needs, a hope for the life to come. A hope that is not dampened by the death of this time, by the destruction of creation, by the loss of loved ones, by broken relationships, and by destitute dreams. This hope offers more to us than any other, for it points us to the day when all will be made right when all will be restored, when dead things come to life, just like the Lord did all those years ago.

He is risen, and one day we will join him. Let us run into easter tide with this hope that goes beyond our human frailties, and bask in the gift of the risen Lord.