Easter--2021
Easter—2021
Luke 24:1-12
Last week, we celebrated Palm Sunday by reading an account that included no mention of palms and not a single “Hallelujah” or “Hosannah!” We listened with fresh ears as Luke described a moment of social revolution, in which people briefly shed their concerns with status and worldly power. This week, we are going to celebrate Easter without anyone ever encountering the risen Jesus. Man…this Luke guy…he’s not making things easy for any of us.
That’s right. No one meets the risen Jesus at the empty tomb. Instead, first, we meet the faithful women. Luke has been quietly acknowledging the presence of faithful women all the way through the Gospel. This presence only ramps up when Jesus is sentenced to die. While pretty much everyone else who has followed him has run for the hills, the women followed closely behind Jesus as he made his way toward crucifixion. On the way toward the hill that was called, “Skull,” where crucifixions took place, the women beat their chests and wailed for him, publicly declaring their faith and loyalty, putting their lives on the line. These women—Mary Magdalen, Mary, the mother of Jesus, and Joanna, along with many others whose names have been lost to time—these women are powerless to stop the horror that is unfolding. However, even when it seems that they can do nothing, they do everything they can to make sure that Jesus knows he is not alone.
The faithful women are witnesses. They stand at a distance as Jesus forgives his tormenters. They watch, dumbstruck, as the guards taunt Jesus. They refuse to look away as Jesus breathes his last breath. And when he died and the crowds dispersed, they still stood there, weeping.
Here’s the thing that they knew: there was still a little work to be done. You see, in that world, it was considered “women’s work” to prepare a body for burial. In that world, women were considered unclean. In the culture’s eyes, there was nothing less “clean” than a dead body. Therefore, why make anyone else unclean, right? The only problem was that usually crucified bodies were left to hang on the cross so that everyone could see what happened to those who caused problems. Who said anything about a burial?
That’s when a good man intervenes. His name is Joseph of Arimathea. He is a member of the council that had sentenced Jesus to death but he never agreed to that. Instead, in a moment of incredible courage, he approaches Pilate and asks for Jesus’ body. Pilate, the man who washed his hands of Jesus’ fate, maybe saw a tiny redemptive moment and agreed. Joseph takes the body down, wraps it in a linen cloth and puts in a tomb. The women watch as the tomb is sealed with a huge stone.
Now, let’s pause for a moment. Let’s recognize the risk that Joseph of Armathea took to secure Jesus’ body. He risked being considered a sympathizer to Jesus’ cause. He also clearly “contaminated” himself by handling the body. Doing the decent thing was likely going to cost him dearly. Doing the decent thing is likely going to cost each of us some day, too.
Now, let’s consider the women again. They had to be completely traumatized by what they had seen. They had to be overwhelmed with fear of the authorities. And yet, they had come this far. Luke goes out of his way to tell us that these women had followed Jesus all the way from Galilee. Certainly, knowing that Jesus’ body was accounted for had to mean something and offer some comfort. However, there was still that one task left—preparing that body for burial. The hour was late. The Sabbath was upon them. The only choice they had was to sit and wait.
Anyone who has waited after the death of a loved one to make the final arrangements knows how long that wait can feel. There are tasks that need to be accomplished. There are things to “tick” off the list. Of course, it’s not like the tasks, themselves, are fulfilling. It’s just how we show our respect and our love. It’s also how we make it through an avalanche of grief. “What’s next?” we ask of no one in particular. And we ask the question with a real dread of the moment when the answer is, “That’s it. We’re done.” If we’re done then there’s nothing left to do but face our grief. So, the women quietly prepare the spices and ointments that they will need.
When dawn came on Sunday morning, the women had every reason not to head to the tomb. If they were caught, the authorities might kill them. No one would have blamed them for wanting to save their own skins. Besides that, they had seen the rock that was rolled in front of the tomb. Anyone could see that no matter how relentless and faithful they might be, that rock wasn’t going anywhere. Risking their lives to make the journey to go stand and stare at a rock? Did these women have no common sense at all? What was the plan?
That’s the thing…when the women arrive at the tomb, the rock has already been rolled away. Perphaps, like the women, you’ve gone to do the faithful thing that you knew that you were called to do, even though there was a giant obstacle in your way. Maybe the faithful thing you needed to do was going to require money and there was none in sight. Maybe the faithful thing you were going to do required asking the person in front of you to actually believe there was hope when all they could see was despair. Maybe the faithful thing you were being called to do required more hands on deck that just your own. Maybe once you showed up, ready to go to work, the money showed up, too, or the despair began to shrink or you suddenly found yourself with people ready to help. In all likelihood, none of these things solved the problem you were there to tackle. Still, though, there was that “knock the wind out of you” moment when you thought to yourself, “Maybe we can do this after all…” Before the women could enter the empty tomb they had to discover that the tomb was open, at all. Trust is hard. Faith often requires us, with no answers in hand, to go and see for ourselves.
With the stone rolled away, the women step into the tomb and the body is gone. Now, remember this. They didn’t go to the tomb because they believed that Jesus was alive. Dead was dead. They were there to pay their respects by caring for the dead body of the man they loved. Now, the body is gone. What did they think? I am sure that their first thought was, “Someone took the body.” I am sure they thought, “My God, just when things couldn’t get any worse.” I’m sure they stood there, too stunned to say or do a thing.
That’s when they saw the two men standing beside them, “dressed in dazzling clothing.” Now, we could go down the rabbit hole of a long explanation or you can take my word here. In the Bible, people who wear “dazzling clothing” or who are surrounded by light or who just have an especially glowing personality tend to be angels. By this, I do not mean, nor does the Bible, that they have huge wings and play a harp all the time. No, the point with these angels is not their appearance. Rather, the point is that they are messengers. Our job is to hear what they have to say. The bottom line is that God may speak to you through your spouse or a stranger on the street or through someone even more dazzling. When God has a message to deliver, God will find a way.
These two messengers deliver a question first: “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?” What a dazzling question! If you were playing that game I played as a kid, “Hotter, hotter…no…colder, colder, oh you’re so cold,” these women would be “freezing.” “He is not here.” Wrong zip code, ladies! Then, the angels ask them to remember what they had been taught, to remember that Jesus had warned them that this was what was going to happen. Then, the women remember Jesus’ words and run to tell the disciples what they had seen and learned at the tomb.
“Don’t you remember?” Isn’t that the lesson we learn to ask as we grieve? What is alive about the person we miss so much is never going to be their body or any other stuff they left behind. Rather, what’s living is going to be discovered only when we are brave enough to remember them. As we remember who they were and what we learned from them, their presence comes to life inside us. “Yes,” we think to ourselves, “they died and my heart broke. Still, though, there is a heart beating inside me and within this beating heart is the part of my beloved who is still alive and with me.”
Of course, most of the time, we keep such thoughts to ourselves because, well, they just seem a little crazy, right? Still, we begin to look for the living in the land of the living and find them in the bird that we loved together singing his heart out outside my window or in the joke that just came to mind that she loved to tell or in the poignant family moment in which they are so heartily missed and yet somehow, at the same time, right here, right now!
Understand me clearly. These faithful women don’t get to the empty tomb and have the risen Jesus come walking out and shout, “Ta-Da!” In Luke, there is no account of a resurrection appearance to these women. Why? These women are so faithful that they don’t need to see him for themselves. All they needed was a nudge from the angels—a message of resurrection—just a whisper of one, and despair gives way to joy. Their belief in death took them out to the tomb. However, they left the tomb believing in life. The love that is more powerful than death healed their broken hearts.
This is why the women raced to the disciples to tell them the good news. A number of writers like to refer to the women as the “disciples to the disciples” at this point. Their story of the empty tomb and the angels and the invitation to remember pours out of them. Then, having listened to the women, the disciples declare that the women have lost their minds. And, just so you know, pretty much everyone else who hasn’t gone from believing in death to believing in life, who hasn’t discovered that in the end, love wins, will think the same thing of you when you share your truth with them, too. “That’s such a sweet story. Call me when you’re ready to rejoin the real world, the world of death, the world of despair!
Take a minute. Do the math. Judas is already gone. There were eleven disciples left. Ten of those remaining eleven dismissed what the women said, but one—Peter, the one who had denied ever knowing Jesus at all—could not deny that he had to go find out for himself. So when things died down, he got up and ran to the tomb. He tip-toed up, peered in, and saw the burial cloths lying on the stone slab. In that moment, his heart skipped a beat. He started to remember Jesus and all he taught. And, though he was truly amazed, he went home, telling no one… at least for a while.
If you can talk to eleven people about the truth that is too good to be true that you believe deep in your heart and only ten think your crazy, well…maybe you’ve had a good day, after all! Or, if someone dares to share such a heartfelt, slightly crazy-feeling truth with you, maybe you’ll dare to go find out for yourself, too. It could just be the kind of thing that might bring a person back to life!
Ponder this: Christ is risen! The place to find him is among the living, in the midst of your life, not among the dead. Look around you! Listen to the faithful people! Listen to your heart.