Homespun Homily: Tulips and the Resurrection – Easter 2023
By Lori Fontana
You know about tulips. I think they are my favorite flower. Each fall, around early September, I buy or pull out of the storage shed the oddly shaped, gnarled orbs we call bulbs. They look dry and lifeless, with loose peelings of brown skin and sometimes a tuft of short, dark root tendrils. I loosen the soil in our garden, dig little circular tunnels straight down, and, one-by-one, place the bulbs inside. As I smooth dirt over each bulb, I wonder – what will this one look like? What color will it be? Because, usually, I have no idea which bulb is which, which is red or pink, white or purple – it will be a great surprise come the spring.
Then, with great hope, I wait…and wait…and wait.
The bulbs are out of sight, hidden in the earth. Through the fall and winter, they are covered over with fallen leaves, puddles of rain, a smattering of snow.
The winter months are so dark, so gray, so wet. It’s hard to remember the promise of colorful blooms. Our Seattle spring comes very slowly. We might have one sunny day in January; maybe one more in February. By March the sun might shine once a week. Yet the air is still damp and icy cold. But the tulips respond to the slightest touch of sunshine warmth. Forgotten over the long winter, each bulb now stretches the tiny tip of a green leaf through the soil and into the weak sunlight of early spring.
At first, I hardly notice that the garden is coming alive. But then the tip of the leaf pushes further up; one leaf, then two and three. And nestled between them is the flower stem with the tightly closed bloom perched on top. The tulips grow at their own pace; and they keep their blooms securely under wraps until they reach full height. Only then do the buds begin to unfurl, showing the glorious colors of their delicate petals, some rounded, some pointed, some ruffled or scalloped. The petals are bright and luminous, catching the breeze and waving and bowing in the sunlight. What a wonderful spring surprise!
It’s very fitting that we observe Holy Week in the spring. As we approach Holy Week – the Passion, Death, and Resurrection of Jesus – I think tulips are a gentle reminder of the desolation and the glory of this painful, wonderful, awesome mystery. On the cross, Jesus gives his final gift. Through his passion and death, Jesus pours out his life in great love for us. At the end, he has nothing left to give – he’s given us his all. Taken down from the cross, Jesus is placed in the tomb, his tortured body hidden away in darkness, out of sight. His followers are left alone, bereft and drained of hope.
Symbolically, for Jesus’ followers, it’s winter in their hearts and souls: Jesus, whom the disciples believed was the Messiah, their friend and teacher whom they loved, is now lifeless, gone from their sight. All is hopelessness. The disciples cower behind closed doors, filled with doubt and fear. Quickly forgotten is the Jesus who turned water into wine, who multiplied loaves and fishes, who healed the blind and the lame, comforted the mourning, gathered the children in his arms, and raised Lazarus from the dead.
Then comes Sunday morning. Mary Magdalen and her companions come to the garden, intending to anoint Jesus’ body. The first rays of the rising sun warm their faces as they approach the tomb where Jesus lies. And then, wonder of wonders! “An angel of the Lord…[had] rolled back the stone.” To the women, the angel says, “He is not here, for he has been raised just s he said.” Matthew 28:2, 5-6
Jesus appears to Mary Magdalen and others of his disciples. Over the next several weeks, Jesus appears to many believers and doubters alike. With the resurrection, many renew their faith in Jesus; many others come to believe. What was lost is found; what was hidden is now seen; what was dead is now alive!
In a very humble way, the tulip mirrors the Resurrection. The tulip bulb appears dead. It’s hidden away in the cold earth. In fact, it must lie buried in winter’s cold so that it can “rise” to new life in the spring. A small miracle: from the bulb which, when planted, appears to be wrapped in a drab burial cloth, bursts forth a magnificent flower rich with color and life.
From death to life! The miracle of the Resurrection. As we travel with Jesus through Palm Sunday to the Last Supper of Holy Thursday, to the Agony in the Garden, through Jesus’ trial and torture, his Way of the Cross, his crucifixion on Calvary’s hill, his death and burial – cling to sure hope. Jesus’ burial in the dark tomb is not the final word. Easter morn will dawn, and with it the glory and colors of NEW LIFE. When you see tulips blooming in gardens and on Easter dinner tables, remember that death is not the end. For we who believe, it is the path to new life. What appears dead has new life in the promise of Jesus.
The lesson of the tulip is echoed in a line by Martin Luther, the great Protestant Reformer:
“Our Lord has written the promise of resurrection, not in books alone, but in every leaf in springtime.”
Happy Easter!
