The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, first born of the dead, and well spring of eternal life, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you now and always!
I might be unique in this, but part of my morning routine these past few weeks has been to check the news to read or hear the new death tolls, the new levels of infection, the news of quarantine and if we here in Iowa are likely to finally be told to shelter in place. Seems like a fairly grim way to start the day, a cup of coffee and casualty reports.
This though is what we hear is happening in our Gospel reading today, the two Marys are heading out to the tomb, but unlike the other gospels, in Matthew, they are not going to the tomb to prepare the body of Jesus. That was already done. Instead we are told that they are going to see the tomb.
They were heading to the tomb to view it. The tomb was sealed and under guard, they knew that they would not be seeing Jesus body, they just went to see the aftermath of death, to mourn and weep for their friend, teacher, and son.
My father died when I was 14 years old. When I was 16 and able to drive myself out to church, before Sunday Services, I would go down to the graveyard to my father’s grave. The church I attended, St. John’s Evangelical Lutheran Church on the Hill, was 9 miles from town and, you guessed it, built on a hill. The church’s graveyard was to the north of the church building on a gradual slope away from the building.
That graveyard was an odd place when I think about it. The first burials occurred in the 1850’s with burials still occurring out there occasionally. There are a wide variety of styles, heights, and ornamentation to the gravestones / tombstones / and markers. Some are flat to the ground and completely invisible in the summer when the grass is long. Others are monumental. Some have crisp lettering, a growing number are being slowly eroded by the wind, water, and wind driven soil and sand.
The graveyard was a place of quiet seriousness when we laid a member of the church to rest. It was a place of quiet mourning when anniversaries of death would come and go, mother’s and father’s days, birthdays, all seemed to be marked by a single person or a small group of family standing around a grave leaving flowers. A particularly poignant place in the cemetery, especially now with what the world is going through, was the marker for the “holy innocents.” During the time of Spanish influenza, about a century ago, the congregation had a mass grave for all the children who fell ill and died to that virus.
I know that there were plenty of times that I walked through that cemetery, and down the hill to my father’s grave filled with the seriousness of a mournful teenager. Full of sorrow and full of a certain degree of fear, particularly a fear of my own death.
But, there were also experiences of immense joy in that graveyard. Easter egg hunts among the stones, games of tag, playing with the farm cats and kittens while sitting on a grave, and I have heard told, many tales of clandestine first kisses in the dark after Lenten or holy week services. Even in this place of sorrow, joy could still be found.
That first Easter morning, the Marys walked toward the tomb, they were filled with sorrow, with disappointment, with fear. Their teacher, friend, son, and the man they truly believed had been sent by God, laid in the tomb, dead and decomposing.
They arrived at the tomb, found the guards standing there to ensure that no one moved the stone and stole the body in order to claim that this Jesus had been risen from the dead. Then, the earth shook. Just a few days before, when Jesus breathed his last, the earth had shaken, ripping the curtain in the temple that divided the holy of holies from the rest of the temple, stones were split, and other tombs were broken open, and the dead inside had begun to walk about.
This morning when the earth quaked, an angel came down and rolled the stone away and sat on the stone. I have such a silly image of this...probably caused by not a few bad stage productions of passion / resurrection plays and just as bad Christmas programs. I picture some youth being lowered from the rafters of a church (which has skillfully, with construction paper, Paper Mache, and an inordinate number of Easter lilies, been transformed into a garden). Spotlights are aimed at the kid who is wearing a white acolyte Alb with poorly constructed wings and a garland halo. The spotlights are so bright and focused on the child, that they must be getting a sunburn. They push away a stone with great ease (either they truly have been granted supernatural strength for just today to make the program seem real, or more likely the stone was a combination of paper mache and foam). Then sit on top of the stop, smiling (maybe even waving at grandma). Immediately the guards collapse and become like the dead.
The women are equally terrified. But then the Angel speaks.
"Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, "He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.' This is my message for you."
Then they left the tomb with fear and great joy. We translate it fear, but that is not really the best word for it. It isn’t fear that something horrible will happen, or the fear of a great and powerful person. It is fear better translated as awe, I have always liked the term, numinous awe, for this sort of fear. Numinous Awe is that feeling of having been in the presence of that which is greater than you can comprehend, something that is outside of your ability to understand or control. It is most often used to describe experiences of God (makes sense since the term was coined by Rudolph Otto in 1917 to discuss God), but some earthly experiences might also evoke this same sensation or emotion, such as standing, staring at the ocean while large waves crash around you, or maybe when you stand at a great height and can see the ground far below, maybe the city streets stories below you, or trees, mountains, stretch out as far as the eye can see.
As they are running to tell the other disciples (the text doesn’t call the women disciples, but they surely are among the first disciples, and they have been commissioned and sent by and angel, and momentarily by the Risen Christ Crucified, to be the first mortals to spread the good news that Jesus has died and has been risen from the dead, just as he had said), Jesus is suddenly there with them on the path. Greetings! Do not be afraid, go, tell my brothers to go to galilee, there they will see me.
From this place of death and sorrow, joy and the full experience of God’s presence through the Crucified Jesus is made known. Joy is present amid the stones of sorrow.
This is where we find ourselves today.
Yes, we know that Christ has been crucified, died, and was buried. We know that Christ defeated death though his own death and resurrection, he has freed us from our captivity to sin, death, and the devil. We know that Christ was raised from the dead, ascended into heaven, and is seated at the right hand of God the father and creator. We have been promised that Christ will come again to judge the living and the dead. We also have the Holy Spirit and Christ, God with us, in the here and now, supporting, sustaining, and continuing the work of reconciliation in us and in the world.
Yet, we still live in a world filled with pain, with suffering, and death. The world is a place where sorrow still has a foot hold. Even in this sorrow, there are times, moments short and long where joy can dwell even in the darkest times.
This Easter, we are like the disciples who have been told by the Marys to rush to Galilee, for there we will see Jesus. Our sorrows remain, but now there is visible hope and joy of a future reunion. We know that this virus will not last, soon, though it might still be a while, we will again see each other in the flesh, and when we do it will be a joyous occasion. Likewise, soon, we will be reunited with Christ and our joys will be complete.
My siblings in Christ, Christ is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Proclaim this promise, the hope of reunification with every breath you are given, knowing that this is God’s will that we be together again with God the creator, Christ crucified, and the Holy Spirit, in flesh and spirit. Do not be afraid. God, Christ, and the Holy Spirit love you, and I love you too, my dear church, be of good courage.