An Easter Story Lithograph

An Easter Story Lithograph

rev. 4/16/2017

Alleluia! He is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Happy Easter!

By now, I am sure that you know that the stone got rolled away from the tomb to be the base of the snow man and that the clothes of the angel didn’t just look as white as snow, they were snow, and Jesus saw his shadow this morning so that there will be six more weeks of winter. Oh, yes, there must have been some magic in the old silk hat they found, for when they placed it on his head he began…I’m sorry,…six more weeks of winter? It’s the middle of April! What was I thinking?  At times, I am such a blockhead. I have something much more important to talk about than silly old superstitious nonsense.

I have come to tell you about the joys of being a Christian stone, okay you might call me a rock. My name is Petros, it means rock, because I’m a little dense, hard-hearted you might say—rock, dense, hard, get it?

Now, if you are one of the people in the world who believe in reincarnation, then I might be your worst nightmare because this is where you end up when you haven’t succeeded in any of the other life forms you have known. Of course, if you believe in reincarnation, you already know that the afterlife is a punishment.

Let me tell you a secret. It’s not the case. Today I am here to tell you that I am one of the happiest rocks that has ever rolled down hill because it’s not true.

But before I tell you the news, let me tell you something about life as a rock. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are some rocks that are destined to greatness—Michelangelo’s Pieta and David, now there were some rocks stars that really made it. Then, of course, you know about Rushmore, and the problems those rocks have—constant cosmetic surgery; Lord, have mercy. They always have someone working on them. The stories I could tell you and the foundation makeup they use… I’m sorry, I get carried away.

Then there are the finer building stones. Some of them are so good that they get used over and over again. Some of my closest relatives started out in the Roman Coliseum and ended up in St. Peter’s Cathedral.

That’s a funny one, too. Peter is just Petros in another language. So really, it’s St Rock’s Cathedral, made out of stones.


Well, my friends and I thought it was funny.

Then there are the cobblestones. They’re another branch of the family who just lie around in roads, patios, and sidewalks—not great stones, but sometimes helpful. Some of them are tricksters so watch your step.

Me, well, I’m sort of common. Old Granddad Bluff said I’d never amount to much. “Lacks grit and polish,” he said.

I had dreams about greatness at one time, but when the sculptors came, they passed me by. They can be such chiselers you know, always looking for a bargain. When the builders came, they said that I was flawed; rejected again.

I was too big to be a cobblestone, too small to be a monument, too flawed to be much of anything. I was rejected and afraid that, like my dreams, I would be crushed. It is hard enough to grovel, but to be gravel?

Then one day a cryptcarver came along and sized me up, rolled me onto his cart, and carted me to the mausoleum he was building. I was going to be the boundary marker between the living and the dead. On the greatness scale, it’s not so much.

As I said, if you believe in reincarnation, this is about as low as you can go—not really in the world of the living, almost in the world of the dead. I thought, “There are corks that are better off than this.”

It didn’t take long. (At least in daylight rock time, which is an hour faster than standard rock time, so it didn’t seem like it took long.) The day came when they brought a dead man to put into the tomb. Then, they rolled me into place. A notch carved into the ground made it easy to sit there, but because of my flaws, I suppose, people came with clay and pushed it in around the edges. Then a soldier came and pressed the temple seal into the clay in four places.

That night I heard them talking. The dead man was Jesus of Nazareth. Some thought that he was a holy man sent from heaven to save the people from Roman rule, but he was just a man; and the soldiers were there to make sure that riots didn’t break out during the great Sabbath of Passover.
You never know what kinds of crazy things followers of these so-called prophets might do. Some people went so far as to say that he was the son of God. As if.

And then, it started. I thought it was a sigh at first and then a burst of air. It pushed hard against the sealed edges of the hole I was covering. It seemed as if the inside space was too big and had to come out. Like a giant sneeze, that came from somewhere deep inside the earth this breath of…of life came bursting out around me. Then everything started to happen at once.

Lightening started flashing, the earth started shaking, the soldiers cried for mercy and fell down on the ground; the clay seals broke apart, and I was rolling. I can tell you. There was a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on. And then, and then, Jesus, the dead man, walked out of the tomb and into my life; and this other person came and sat on me.

Two women came, and the person talked with them. “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’”


It was the strangest thing. I know that rocks don’t look very animated, but that day I was so proud to be Petros, the rolling stone, the rock, with all of my imperfections. In spite of the fact that I had been turned down for almost every job of any greatness, I, Petros, was the first to witness the amazing resurrection breath of life.


It was not reincarnation. Jesus did not come out as something less than he had been before, instead he seemed quite the same but somehow more. This rising from the dead was not a punishment to walk the earth, to learn a lesson, or to become one with the universe. I tell you Jesus walked out of the tomb like a man with a mission. There was no compromise in what he did or said.

“Hello!” he said, and the women came to him, bowed down to the ground, took hold of his feet, and kissed them. You could tell that they were scared. It’s not everyday that you see and hear and touch someone who has been raised from the dead. As I said, there was a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on.

And Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid; get up, go and tell the others to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” And he left.

Over the centuries, I have heard the stories of Jesus’ disciples, how they went to Galilee, told the resurrection story to the world, and how they baptized the people of the world into the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but, more than that, I need to tell you that the world was changed that day.

I, Petros, the rock, sealed and settled at the tomb, could not stand in way of the resurrection. I was rolled away for new life to enter the world, and I was changed. My ordinary, flawed self became the cornerstone of the church. God used me to be a symbol of the resurrection.

Each Easter I am used again as the foundation stone to build faith. I roll away with joy. With me, you see God’s anointed son, Jesus Christ, walk from death to live with us in ministry—leading and calling us in love; to join, as servants of all, to shake the powers of the world, to be living stones.

All of us can be a little hard-hearted at times, but do we want to be stones, stuck and sealed over death, or stones rolled away so that others might see and know the promise and hope of life?

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!