Let me repeat the greeting expressed at the beginning of the worship service. It is a privilege to welcome so many people to our Easter Worship/Celebration Service. Visitor, occasional worshiper, member of the congregation, seeker, long-time pilgrim, reluctant accompanier of some one else—I'm glad you are here.
There's something humbling in the fact that for hundreds of years people have gathered on the Sunday after the first full moon after the spring equinox to celebrate the centerpiece of the Christian faith: the resurrection of Jesus. I sometimes think about all those people over all those years, numbering in the millions. Among them are intellectuals—philosophers, authors, scientists; political leaders—emperors, kings and queens, presidents, prime ministers; artists—musicians, painters, actors; and lots and lots of ordinary people, whose lives are unnoticed by historians, but who matter very much to their families and friends.
In a special way we celebrate today our reason for existence as a Christian church. It was the resurrection of Jesus that changed the women and men who had dared to trust him, changed them from disillusioned, frightened, sorrowful people into hopeful, courageous, irrepressible advocates for life in all its fullness and for love that works for the wellbeing of others as well as self. We are here to celebrate that which transformed them: the resurrection of Jesus.
Just about every Sunday when we gather for worship here, we listen to readings from the Bible. One of the readings is from a Gospel—Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John. The four Gospels all tell the story of Jesus' life, ministry, death, and resurrection. The first three, Matthew, Mark, and Luke, follow the same outline with different variations reflective of the particular author's background and target audience. The fourth Gospel, John, gives the basic outline of Jesus' ministry, death, and resurrection, but it tells stories not in the other three, and it provides a framework for contemplating the meaning of the story it tells.
Mark is generally regarded as the first of the four Gospels to be written, and it is the shortest. Every three years we read the Easter story as it comes to us in Mark's Gospel. This is one of those years. Before he ends his Gospel with the Easter story, Mark tells us that Jesus of Nazareth was a Jewish teacher, or rabbi, who said some new and exciting things. His message was that God's power was breaking into human history, into all of existence. God's power was the power of love. Jesus taught that God wanted to love all people—the whole of creation, not just the human part. In the Gospels Jesus talked about a God who wasn't a vengeful, punishing God. He said Jesus is like a caring mother, a nurturing father.
As you can imagine, people began to respond to Jesus' teaching and to his power to heal all kinds of brokenness. The response was especially favorable among those on the fringe of society: the poor and sick, the lonely and brokenhearted, the outcasts and misfits. But the people who controlled the places of power and wealth were not amused. They sensed a threat to their privilege, and so they had Jesus tried on trumped-up charges and executed as a criminal.
It seemed as though the power of love had lost out to the power of privilege. After his death by crucifixion, the Roman form of execution, Jesus' followers were devastated, overwhelmed by fear and sadness.
But then, as you heard in this morning's first reading, something happened. Mark tells us less about what took place than any of the other three. He writes that early in the morning of the third day after Jesus' death, three women prepared spices for anointing his body—the burial custom of Jews during that period. It was also customary to place dead bodies in a burial cave and seal the cave's entrance with a large boulder rolled in place by several strong men. The purpose of the large boulder sealing the cave was to prevent vandalism.
On their way to Jesus' burial cave or tomb, the three women wondered who would roll away the boulder for them so that they could anoint the body with spices. To their amazement, when they got to the cave, the stone was rolled away, and a young man dressed in white was sitting there. Mark says the women were alarmed—understandably. The young man told them not to be alarmed, that Jesus who had been dead was now raised and would meet his followers in Galilee as he had promised.
Mark ends his Gospel there, rather abruptly, with the women in terror and amazement. The other Gospel writers add stories of the risen Christ appearing to the three women who took spices to the cave, appearing to the eleven surviving disciples, and to other people as well.
In our second reading, a man who wrote some letters long before Mark wrote his Gospel, recounted appearances of the risen Christ to Peter, one of the disciples, then to the other disciples, then to a larger group of people, most of whom were still living at the time of writing. Then Paul writes that the risen Christ appeared to him, a man who had previously persecuted Christians for saying that Christ had been raised. The former persecutor has become a proclaimer and will gladly face imprisonment and death rather than deny what he has experienced.
From terror and amazement to joyful celebration! The Easter story is full of mystery. The rational part of us wonders what really happened. But faith, while not opposed to reason, is not limited by it either. We human beings are made for thinking, and we are also made for feeling, for the ways of the heart or spirit (soul) as well as for the ways of the intellect.
For me, when I hear the Gospel story of the women walking toward the tomb and wondering who will roll away the stone, something happens deep inside. The three women wanted to do something loving, something kind. But they were blocked by a boulder, or so they thought. Yesterday on the subway there were some foreign speaking people trying to figure out where to get off to go where they wanted to go. I couldn't figure out what language they were speaking, so I stayed in my seat. But a woman sitting near them tried to help. She spoke slowly and loudly, as people often do when trying to communicate with people who speak a different language. But they couldn't understand her, and she couldn't understand them. A boulder was in the way.
I thought of all the times it felt as though something were blocking the roadway of my life. I think just about everyone here today can remember a time when he or she wanted to do something, something good, something worthwhile, something loving, and there was an obstacle in the way—something like a stone so big you couldn't move it by yourself. And you wondered how that boulder could ever be rolled away. Have you ever wanted a relationship to develop or improve, or wanted someone to love you the way you love them? But a stone stood in the way.
You and I live in a world where it's often said, "We are in control. If you work hard enough, you can do anything, solve any problem." People who talk that way sometimes imply that people are weak if they ask for help, if they admit confusion or despair. "You ought to be able to make it on your own," they say.
Christian faith, which is Easter faith, recognizes a tragic dimension in life, an aspect of human existence that acknowledges there are some things over which we human beings have no control. To recognize that is to move beyond frantic efforts to manage everything, and to be set free from guilt for failures that may have been unavoidable.
"Who will roll away the stone?" wondered the women. An agent of God, sometimes called an angel in Biblical stories, did for them what they were unable to do for themselves. Sometimes it works out that way. God removes an obstacle in some mysterious, miraculous way. God often works through women and men, the angels in our lives. But sometimes it doesn't work out that way. The giant rock remains in our path and the way forward is blocked. In those experiences God gives us grace to know we are loved and that life has something else in store for us.
In this church we are learning the benefits of telling one another about those times when stones have been rolled away from blocking our pathways, and about those times when a boulder remained in front of us and how we handled the situation. Like the Gospel writers, we tell stories of God at work in the world.
The Easter story is about a stone being rolled away from a tomb. It's about people who were gripped by terror and amazement. It's about their encounters with the risen Christ and how those encounters changed their lives. By the power of the Holy Spirit the risen Christ is alive and present in our world. I can't explain it. I can only say it's true. I can only tell you that it's been true for me.
Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.