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"I Have Seen The Lord"
April 21, 2019
First Sunday in Easter
His name is Vedran Smailović. Currently living in Northern Ireland, he hails from Bosnia and Herzegovina. He currently spends his time as a composer and conductor, but before fleeing his homeland in the early 90s, he made his living as a professional cellist. He played for the Sarajevo Opera, the Sarajevo Philharmonic Orchestra, and a number of other professional orchestras in the region.
And then the siege started.
The Siege of Sarajevo. It was and still is the longest siege of a capital city in modern warfare. Inhabitants found themselves under bombardment from mortars and snipers stationed in the hills that surrounded the city. On average, the city would be struck three hundred and twenty-nine times per day. To this day, buildings and streets are still scarred by shells and rounds. Inhabitants were faced with a terrible choice. They could remain in the city and risk falling prey to the snipers or they could try to flee the city and risk capture. When the air cleared, over fourteen hundred days later, nearly fourteen thousand people were killed; over five thousand of whom were civilians.
This is where Smailovic found himself. A modern-day tomb, surrounded by death and destruction. The wages of the sins that blind us to the immutable fact that every human, regardless of their ethnic background, is a child of God were palpable. At the onset of the siege, he kept on keeping on. He tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, to hold on to some element of life before the siege began. But then another mortar fell, and this time the victims were twenty-two people standing in a bread line, trying to get some much-needed sustenance.
For Smailovic, enough was enough. His conscious would not permit him to carry on as though nothing had happened.
Early the next morning, just after curfew lifted, he made his way to the spot that had been hit. To the spot where twenty-two lives were suddenly and cruelly extinguished wearing a freshly pressed tuxedo and carrying his instrument in one hand and a simple folding chair in the other. He set himself up and began to play Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor. A simple, but powerful tribute to the lives that had been lost. For twenty-two days, against the advisement of soldiers and government officials and other civilians, he would return to that very spot and play his cello as the rest of the city woke up. For twenty-two days, he placed himself in the sights of the snipers stationed throughout the city, and tried to do something—anything really—to add a bit of beauty and offer some much needed grace to a place devoid of both. To show all those who heard his music that this wasn’t the way the world had to be.
This wasn’t the way the world ought to be.
Through his protest, he became a bit of a legend. The Cellist of Sarajevo. And when the twenty-two days had passed, he would continue to offer his services as a musician for funerals of those fallen during the siege. Continually bearing witness to an alternate reality—a more perfect reality. A more perfect reality that is just within our grasp.
That’s the proclamation and promise of Easter, is it not?
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
I have seen the Lord, Mary cries. That which was dead is now alive. Early that morning, in a tomb surrounded by death, Mary proclaimed that death had been swallowed up. The power of love—God’s divine love—showed that it would yield to no one and no thing and no force. I have seen the Lord, and the world would never be the same.
This is our story. This story is the central story to our faith. Why does any other part of the witness matter? Because of this story. Without the resurrection, none of the sermons or miracles or sayings or signs or triumphal entries or vicious betrayals or brutal passions matter. Rather, the resurrection shows that all of it—all of it—was worth it. We don’t follow Jesus because he was a good guy. We follow Jesus because through him, the magnitude of the power of God’s love for us is revealed and we know that nothing can stand in its way. It’s a fact that, admittedly, we can sometimes forget. It’s really easy to hold on and live in the old ways. It’s really easy to be surrounded by death and think well there’s nothing I can do about it. Lucky for us, Easter shows us another way. Easter shows us a better way. Easter enables us to stare death square in the face and say you have no power over me anymore for I have seen the Lord. An alternate, more perfect reality is within our grasp.
We just have to go out and witness to it.
