He was beautiful
Copyright © 1996 by Odell Sneeden Hathaway III
He was beautiful—that above all else is what is important!
He was not just cute, he was beautiful!
He was not just a hunk, he was beautiful!
He was not just sexy, he was beautiful!
A blind man could have seen it—and yes, many did. When they asked to see more, he would show them, and they would run in terror.
The only thing wrong with him was his beauty. His mother had hoped that he would outgrow it. When he was young, she hid him from the world—not as one hides a great treasure, but as one would hide the fact that a family member had AIDS. What he had was far worse: he was beautiful. She would have made him wear a mask if that could have concealed his beauty, but nothing could.
As he got older, he had to show the world how beautiful he was—not out of pride (that would not have been beautiful at all), but because he had to show the world the way the rain has to show us that it is wet, and makes us wet in the process.
Yes, he was beautiful, and he tried to teach the world to be beautiful. For he loved the world and cried out to it, “Come and be beautiful with me!” But there has never been anyone on this earth who really wanted to be beautiful. Each of us would rather be what we think we are, instead of what we could be.
So we tried to kill him. We nailed him to a tree. We thought that we could kill this beauty and never have to face the beauty within ourselves. But at best, all we can do is hide beauty away—lock it in a cave where it may sit for a day or two. We hope that we will never see its beautiful head, or hear it calling to us, telling us that we can be just as beautiful as it is.
You see, each of us is afraid because there will always be Easter—and the beauty we tried to destroy will rise again. Not as a conqueror, but as a lover who will always welcome us and help us find what is best and most beautiful in ourselves, if only we will let it.
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