The Powers That Be
The Powers That Be
Matthew 28:1-10
Forty-three years ago, when I went to seminary, I knew two things for sure. First, I was never going to date anyone in seminary. They’d be a little crazy and want to talk about Jesus all the time. One month in, I was dating the person whom I would spend the rest of my life with. The second thing that I knew for sure was that I would never, ever be interested in Biblical studies. After all, as a pastor’s kid, I had suffered through years of Sunday School, hearing the same stories over and over again. Today, I’m standing here and telling you that after preaching pretty much every Sunday for 30 years, the book still fascinates me and almost every time I run into a text, I hear something entirely new.
The downside of telling you that the Bible fascinates me is that I have to own the fact that I’ve probably failed to find a way to make it fascinating to you, too. I wonder why that is? Part of the Bible coming to life for me was that I had no choice but to spend a lot of time with the book in seminary. Hebrew and Greek were required. One of the standard ordination exams was a Bible exam. In seminary, I had a whole group of people in that same boat with me—they had to take those classes, too. So, you had to go all in and you had people who were willing to go all in with you. We also had amazing teachers who brought the book to life. If you were ever going to get interested, this was your chance.
How did those teachers teach? Well, we learned about the original cultural context and suddenly, texts that didn’t make sense did. We learned about the nuances of the ancient languages and learned how to research what was being said. We learned that a whole lot of choices went into translating a text and that some translations were just not very good.
When it came to the Gospels, we were invited to form relationships with each writer, to learn the nuances of how they each told stories, to learn which stories only they told. If they shared stories with other Gospels, we placed them side-by-side and asked, “What do the differences mean? What do they tell us about the larger project that this writer was undertaking?”
In other words, we were granted permission to ask questions and offer theories. We were invited to see that, from the start, everyone had questions and some things were just pretty mysterious but that somehow, in some way, faith mattered and bringing faith to life was something that folks had been trying to do for thousands of years. Ultimately, we found ourselves entering the biggest project of all, to try to understand human experience and the ways in which God is woven into that experience.
So, we’ve been doing the “side-by-side” approach to Easter for a few weeks now. Not surprisingly, Easter was a pivotal enough event that all four Gospels tell us an Easter story. (Remember, only two tell us about Christmas!). Also, not surprisingly, each of the four Gospels tells a different version of the story. If your faith rests on the notion that the Bible tells us one truth and one truth only, this is one of many moments that challenge that belief. What the Bible presents us with us multiple perspectives that point to different aspects of the truth, highlighting the things which mattered most to the writer and their community. No one is lying. Everyone is standing before a mystery and trying to figure out what in the world to say about what the mystery reveals.
In the broadest strokes, all four Gospels agree that the good news is that death was not the final word. Terrible things happened to Jesus who had, in fact, told those close to him, that terrible things were going to happen. He also had told them that he would die but he would rise again. All four Gospels tell us about mightily even the people who were there struggled with this mystery. A lot of people didn’t get it right away—which, presumably, makes it okay to struggle with that mystery, too. Death is real, but so is God’s power and God’s love. Yes, there is life after death, but experiencing this mystery isn’t meant to make us give up on living. Rather, it is meant to free us up to go and live our faith in our own Galilee. Like the disciples, we will meet the resurrected Christ when we go to our own “Galilee” and roll up ourselves and feed the hungry and visit the sick and bring love to life for others.
The nuances, though, of how each Gospel tells this story are fascinating—really! In Mark, the first Gospel, the women make it to the tomb. Jesus body is gone. A guy tells them that he’s not there, that Jesus has risen. However, the risen Jesus is not seen. The messenger tells the women to go tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee. Instead, the women run away, consumed by fear.
In Luke, the women make it to the tomb. There are two messengers and they are shiny—think of it as if they have been “highlighted” so that they can’t be missed. The women are asked to remember what Jesus had told them would happen in the first place. When they remember this, they believe. They specifically don’t believe because they have seen the risen Jesus themselves. They are told to go tell the disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee which is exactly what they do. However, the disciples are pretty sure the women have lost their minds. They do not believe them.
So, what’s the message? The message is that something radically unexpected happened on Easter morning that almost no one understood. No one “got it” right away. And, if you are thinking to yourself, “Well, I would have understood if only I had been there, too,” you should stop kidding yourself. You won’t wrap your head around resurrection, you will “feel” it deep in your bones and maybe something will resonate inside you. Mostly, though, if you want to meet the risen Christ, you probably will meet him when you are living the way he taught us to live—focused on helping others.
Maybe this is the point of connection to our own experience 2000 years later. We know that it is really hard to live a life that is about helping others if you are focused on yourself. Jesus was all about removing the barriers that keep us trapped in our own wants and needs: learning to forgive and seek forgiveness rather than holding grudges and hiding our mistakes; realizing that there are things that matter more than wealth and better questions to ask than, “What’s in it for me?” The ultimate thing that can trap us in our own fear of death and struggle with mortality. Easter is meant, I think, not to point us to “the pearly gates” but to say, “You don’t have to worry. There’s more! Now, go live a life that’s worth living and figure out what’s worth dying for!”
So, what does Matthew add to this discussion? If Mark is the “U.S.A. Today” Gospel, using the least possible number of words and firing stories at us, Matthew is fine literature. Every detail matters and is carefully crafted and probably is tied to details you’ve heard earlier or to stories that were told a thousand years before. If Luke is the “If I had a hammer,” folk singing, social justice Gospel, then Matthew is the symphony. In other words, Matthew adds the kind of “notes” to Easter that Matthew adds to whatever he is covering. Things become more rich and complex and dazzling.
In Matthew, two women make their way to the tomb: Mary Magdeline and “the other Mary.” Right away, we should ask ourselves who is “the other Mary.” The answer, woven into the story earlier is that this is Mary, the mother of Jesus. Why doesn’t Luke say this? I think it is because Mary is not there because she was Jesus’ mother. She is there because she matters in her own right as a person of faith. Mary Magdeline matters that same way. These are two deeply faithful people who’s faith has been challenged to the core but who’s faith has brought them to the tomb.
The two faithful women show up. However, they are not there, according to Matthew, to prepare Jesus’ body for burial. There is no mention of burial spices at all. Instead, they are there “to see the tomb.” The word that is translated as “to see” is the Greek word, “theorasai.” This word is much more akin to the moment when we finally understand something and we say to the person with us, “Now, I see.” The women come to watch, to observe, to be close. Ultimately, though, having witnessed the world at its worst, they are there to piece things together.
When they get there, things get dramatic (as they often do in Matthew.) There is an earthquake. In fact, this is the second earthquake. The first was when Jesus died. The whole earth shook and, Matthew tells us, the saints are shaken out of their graves. (I told you, the man loves drama!) So, in Matthew, Jesus is not yet resurrected but the saints apparently are, which makes sense if you remember Jesus’ lessons about letting others go first. The second quake sets the earth shaking again and, as it shakes, an angel appears, rolls back the stone, and plops down on top of it. He doesn’t just shine. In Matthew, he looks like lightning and his clothes are as white as snow. As soon as they see the angel, the guards pass out like dead men.
What’s the net effect here? The authorities have done the absolute worst they could, mustering all of their power and cruelty to make a point out of Jesus. It looks for all the world like they’ve won until the moment when God’s power enters the scene. Boulders too big to move are tossed aside. The guards, which a moment before had seemed like the most powerful people around, now drop like flies. The angel, if he had a football handy, might have spiked it at that point. All of this happens, “suddenly,” one of Matthew’s favorite words. Everything looked like death and despair and destruction until…suddenly!…everything changed.
The angel delivers his message: “Don’t be like the guard and get overwhelmed with fear. Jesus isn’t here. He has been raised. Tell the disciples to meet him in Galilee.”
That, for our literary Gospel, is not the end. In Matthew…suddenly!…the risen Jesus appears. Like the sudden earthquake, suddenly the women’s world is changed. They came to the tomb because they remembered what Jesus had said would happen. They came to see if that was the case. The risen Jesus suddenly shows up. He doesn’t explain anything. Instead, he basically says to them, “Hey! Good morning…” Those familiar words, that familiar voice, the voice of the one whom they loved, was all they needed to hear. They fall on their faces in worship and cling to his feet. In this incredibly personal moment, Jesus says, “It’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll see you and the boys back in Galilee.”
If you need to know in the worst of times that things can suddenly change, that there is life after death, that your heart which has grown stone cold might suddenly beat again, spend time in the Gospel of Matthew on Easter morning. He’s bringing the truth to life and this time, it is personal.