Once upon a time our oldest son, Rob, wanted the latest gaming system in the worst way. Nintendo or PlayStation, I can’t remember which, but it was a big ask. Mom was on his side, so I knew where this was going but we agreed to have him earn it. Rather than add to his list of chores, I challenged him to three tasks:

1. Memorize the Lord’s Prayer. That would give him an immediate sense of accomplishment, the boy had been saying it in church his whole life, as long as he could remember. But I wanted him to say it alone, to prepare him for the times when he would be really alone, really scared, in deep need for God’s presence and to feel God’s grace.

2. Read Stuart Little, because E.B. White was an excellent author and it was one of the books that Meg and I both love and had when we combined our lives and our stuff. He was at just the right age to enjoy that adventure.

3. Memorize the 23rd Psalm.

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In today’s Gospel, we find ourselves right back where we were last week, with the disciples gathered that first Easter evening. Last week we heard John’s account, this time coming from Luke. The disciples are trying to process the wild testimony from Mary, Peter and John that morning. They are trying to process the witness of the two disciples who just returned from Emmaus. They want to hope – but this news is unbelievable, literally incredible.

Then, Jesus comes. Luke describes a mix of astonishment and fear when suddenly he is there. Of course they were shocked. They knew death, certainly better that most people today would. In their time, when someone died, they didn’t call Marion-Nelson to deal with the body. They took the deceased to his or her own home and all the family and friends saw them. And they buried them in the ground or a tomb quickly. They didn’t expect people to get up any more than we do. And Jesus’ body had gone straight and quickly into a tomb because of the Passover and Sabbath.

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It’s getting warmer, which means a lot of us will be heading to the beach in the coming weeks, and we will come once again to that fateful moment. It’s time to get wet. Some of us will go in slowly, feeling the cool water working up our bodies with each step. Others will simply take the plunge. Often there is that in-between. And in any case, once we’ve enjoyed that cool, refreshing water, when we hear someone complaining about the heat we say, “Come on in, the water’s fine!”

John’s account of that first Easter night is like that sparkling ocean. It is ever-changing, waves rolling in, infinite shades of blue and green, the sun sparkling on the tops of the waves, and a great deal we cannot truly know about it until we get in, until we take the plunge.

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