All love leads to a tomb.
The immature and self-orienting love of Romeo and Juliet leads them to a tomb, and later their kinsfolk join their corpses in the crypt and weep. Thier unbridled affection has dealt more death than all the ancient duels between Montague and Capulet. It ends both family lines by cutting off both house’s heirs. Though it had promised to endure forever, worldly love leads us to the grave.
But holy love also leads us to the tomb. The divine plot hatched by the friar in Much Ado About Nothing leads Claudio to the grave of Hero with biting self-reproachments and true penitence. But Hero is not dead. This love is not self-orienting, it is set a flame by Yahweh Himself and, therefore, does more than lead us to the grave. It raises us from it.
As we arrive on Easter morning, the joy of our triumph is not the result of having narrowly avoided the tomb, of having skirted death, or of having beaten death by superhumanly resisting it. No, the joy of Easter is like the joy of receiving Hero back from the dead, save for this is not plot device or farcical charade. This is the real deal. Love has conquered death precisely by descending into it, precisely by dying. Holy love leads us to the grave and casts itself down into hades —and then rises again.
All love leads to the tomb. All love dies. The difference is that some loves end there. The Love of God, and all loves lit by His Flame, rise again. Love that is eternal is love that is born again.