Sermon for April 4, 2021 Easter Sunday/Resurrection of Our Lord House of Prayer L. C.

Mark 16:1-8; Isaiah 25:6-9 Rev. Karl-John N. Stone

This is not the strangest Easter I’ve ever lived through--that of course was last year! And probably many of you feel the same. Last Easter we were living with the shock of a global pandemic sweeping the entire world--something that hadn’t happened in 100 years.

Last Easter we were of course disappointed--living in lockdown, not gathering for worship, quarantining from all but close family members, sacrificing so many important events and cherished traditions in a world-wide effort to try to contain the pandemic from spreading.

Many were alarmed at how quickly covid spread; at how little we understood; at the serious symptoms that many suffered even while others hardly knew they were sick; at the strain on medical providers, essential workers, grocery stores, supply chains; at the terrible burdens on many businesses and workers who lost their jobs; at schools closing while parents and teachers scrambled to figure out what to do with their kids and students.

We also had maybe a little bit of hope, that this thing would be over in a few weeks, or maybe a couple of months--but that hope turned to disappointment and sadness, maybe even anger, as we went through various surges of infection, and over time many if not most of us knew at least one person who died from this disease.

I know there’s a lot more that could be said, and many points of view, about the stressful times we’ve lived through this past year, and we each have a story to tell. Yet as we look at the common emotions that many of us experienced, they connect us in a way to the emotions on that first Easter morning as Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome walked to the tomb in their grief, in order to anoint Jesus’ body with the burial spices.

Shock--at the brutality and trauma of his crucifixion.

Disappointment--they thought Jesus would be the one to redeem Israel, and now his life had been snuffed out through senseless violence.

Alarm--when they arrived at the tomb and found the stone already rolled away. And then, summoning their courage to go inside, they discovered Jesus was no longer there. Instead a young man in a white robe spoke to them with what turned out to be amazing yet terrifying news: “Do not be alarmed. You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him.”

Can you try, even for a moment, to put yourself in their state of mind? That jumble of emotions preventing you from making sense of it all. One second you are living with shock, disappointment, sadness, grief. And the next second, after stepping out of the flash of light at daybreak into the darkness of the tomb, you are being asked to re-evaluate every assumption--not just every assumption, but even your own deep knowledge--of how life works!

You mean to tell me that there is now someone who has death behind him? Someone who we watched as he breathed his last, and as Joseph of Arimathea lay his dead body right in this very tomb? He’s been raised? He’s not here? Then where is he?!?

The young man in white robe continued his message: “Go. Tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.” And then the next second, as you finish listening to this news, all of the jumble of emotions you’ve arrived at the tomb with quickly give way to just two: terror and amazement.

Terror and amazement. In the darkness of the tomb that no longer contained Jesus’ body, they were being asked to live by faith in a God whom not even death can contain.

So what did they do? They did what most of us probably would have done if we were in their shoes--they turned their backs on what they could only see dimly by faith, and fled in fear from the tomb, back into the light of day, back into a world that they thought they still knew. Only that old world was now changed forever, too. The risen Jesus is not contained in a tomb. He is risen, and already on the way to Galilee. He is loose in the world.

Like the three women who fled from the tomb, many times it’s easier for us to turn our backs in fear on a world that has been changed and made new by Christ, and to flee from what we can only see dimly by faith. Many times we think it will be easier to live with the pain we feel because it’s what we know; to live with the hurt we hold because it’s hard to forgive; to turn a blind eye to suffering, or to close our ears to those crying out for justice, because the need is so overwhelming.

Waiting for the Lord to transform the world and raise up new life, and new hope, and a new way of being through the power of Christ’s resurrection--a power we might feel, yet only see dimly in faith--well that kind of transformation just might be quite terrifying and amazing.

We have a God who sees the amazement and terror in our eyes. Who knows the shock and disappointment we live with. Who feels our sadness and grief. Who hears the alarm ringing in our minds when life is disrupted. Who walks with the suffering and oppressed. Who even watches when we turn our backs in fear and run from his transforming power. And this God is not contained in a tomb. He went ahead to meet them in Galilee on that first Easter morning, and the Spirit of his resurrection has been loose in the world ever since. Even today, he goes ahead to meet us--and lead us, through faith, to unending hope and love because JESUS IS RISEN! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!