Mostly Dead

(Since I have been writing a lot about the meaning of “miracle” these days, I decided to repost this piece I posted on Facebook April 12, 2017)

My next door neighbor has been reading the book “Princess Bride” to his two elementary school aged daughters over the past few weeks. The other night, as he does from time to time, he set up a projector and sound system in his back yard to show the film version of the story on the wall of his garage. Jorja and I were invited over to watch it with them.

The story’s hero, Wesley, has been tortured in the castle dungeon by a contraption that literally sucks the life out of him. When his friends find him they presume he is dead and rush him to the deep forest hovel of Miracle Max. The friends believe Miracle Max, played by Billy Crystal, is the one person who can bring their friend back to life.

Max looks Wesley over and pronounces matter-of-factly, “Your friend is only MOSTLY dead. See, there’s a big difference between MOSTLY dead, and ALL dead.” Max’s mysterious, chocolate coated “miracle pill” ultimately revives Wesley, who goes on to rescue his true love from the nearby castle.

Supposed miracles, like the one Max performed on Wesley, are a common fixture of fairy tales. And the idea of Wesley being mostly dead, instead of all dead, makes it easier to accept as possible. An advanced diagnosis like that would make a lot of miracles we read about in the Bible much more plausible too. If, in the Bible, Lazarus had just been MOSTLY dead, not ALL dead, like some rationalize, the miracle of Jesus raising him to life would be believable, or at least plausible. After all, they had limited medical knowledge in those days, and Lazarus could have been in a coma. With a heartbeat so faint and breath so light, both might have been difficult to detect. Depending on how you interpret his comments, Jesus himself made a Max style diagnosis, telling his disciples that Lazarus was only asleep.

But the crucifixion of Christ, and his resurrection on the third day – well that’s an ALL dead story. He was not just MOSTLY dead. No. Nailed up on a piece of wood for all the world to see, all day. Stuck with a spear in his side just to make sure. In a sealed tomb – for three days. He was not MOSTLY dead, he was ALL dead. This is not one that can be rationalized, or made more plausible.

My strong preference this time of year is to fast forward to Easter. I can barely wait for the shutters of the church windows to be thrown open to a flood of sunlight as we sing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today,” the words catapulted through the rafters on the wind of every straining pipe in the church organ.

Alas, that will not do. First, I must stop at the grave and decide, “Do I believe it, or don’t I?” No in between, no mostly. Once and for all, all or nothing.

Easter egg hunts, a once a year trip to church in new clothes, a family photo by the flowering cross, and even the open shutters in the church house are nothing more than a way to mark time as spring looks to summer in a never-ending spiral towards fall and winter. To get to Easter, you have to believe in the grave. And the only way through a grave, is with an ALL dead kind of miracle.