Year A, Easter Matthew 28:1-10
I will always remember the first Maundy Thursday service
I participated in as a priest. I was working for a rector who was very
particular and attune to presentation. There was a big wooden cross on the
wall…about 15 feet tall. At the end of
the service, after we removed everything from the chancel (which is referred to
as stripping the altar), there was a large black cloth that was pulled (with
some sort of pully system) over the cross. It didn’t cover the cross, just kind
crossed over it like a sash. As we were
pulling the cross over the cross, there was a big clap of thunder and then lightning. We all kind of jumped a little and then the
rector whispered, “Just so you know, this doesn’t happen every Maundy
Thursday.” Ever since then, I have longed for that kind of visceral feeling. The closest I ever came to was last Good
Friday when Parker played some of the pieces that went with the Stations of the
Cross. It was like feeling the crucifixion in your bones, not the pain, but the
meaning and resonance.
The story of Jesus’ resurrection is in all four
Gospels. Each Gospel tells it a little
differently and in my mind…way too quickly.
Every story has things in common---like the fact that women are always
the first people to witness the resurrection, there is always an empty tomb and
it’s always on the third day. These are
pieces that are consistent across all four Gospels. Then there are the differences. There are two
things that differentiate Matthew from the other Gospels…the earthquake and the
presence of the guards.
Matthew is the only Gospel
that mentioned guards at the tomb. The previous chapter says that the religious
leaders went to Pilate and asked him to post guards at the tomb as they were
worried that one of Jesus’ followers would steal the body to convince others
that Jesus had risen. No one, not even
Jesus’ most devout followers actually thought that Jesus would rise from the
dead. The women came to grieve, not because they expected to meet the risen
Lord. That is the amazing thing about
our God, God can never be confined to our narrow expectations.
The other thing unique about Matthew is the earthquake.
It’s certainly possible that everyone experienced it and Matthew was the only
one who mentioned it. It’s more likely
that Matthew used the imagery of an earthquake to demonstrate how earth shaking
the moment was. The Greek word that is
translated to earthquake is used three times in the Gospels and they are all in
the Gospel of Matthew.
The first is when he entered
the city of Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.
The second is the moment Jesus died.
The third is when the stone rolled away and the angel descended from
heaven. According to Matthew, the earth
shook on those three occasions. I get the sense that Matthew wants us to feel
the earth quake (Organist plays here).
Can you feel that…reverberating through your body? Now multiply that feeling times 10. That is what Matthew wants us to feel when we
consider Jesus’ death and resurrection.
If you have been through a serious earthquake or any major storm, you
know that nothing is exactly the same afterwards. Even after everything is
rebuilt and put together, the world is still changed.
The timing of the earth quake in the resurrection story
is interesting, because it’s not when the risen Jesus appeared, it’s when the
angel descended and rolled the stone away.
That was the moment when hope was awakened. It wasn’t the moment that hope was
guaranteed, it was when it was awoken.
Notice how this angel is described.
His appearance was like lightening.
This was not the kind of angel we imagine or what we might see on TV. This was not a Willow Tree angel. I love those things, but they are not
Biblically accurate. This angel had one
purpose: to deliver a message and God wanted everyone to know this message was
earth shaking, lightening striking important. “Do not be afraid; I know that
you are looking for Jesus who has been 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…’” The angel is shockingly brief—gets right to
the point.
I love that the angel encourages them to come see the
place where his body was supposed to be. Even with the earthquake and the
lightning bright angel, it was still hard to take in for these women. The angel understood that. At the same time,
the angel didn’t give them time to hang around and debate what actually
happened. The women were told to go tell
others as soon as they witnessed the emptiness of the tomb. Hope was awakened and it could no longer be contained. It was bursting out.
I understand that there are probably many in this church
(or watching online) who aren’t quite sure about this resurrection thing. You
came for the music and the flowers. You came for the traditions. You didn’t
come to have your mind changed. I have been ordained for long enough to know
that my job today is not to change your mind or your heart.
Instead, I want you to
imagine what it would look like to be a little shaken, a little out of control.
Imagine something—anything that you have experienced that was life changing. After it happened, you realized your life was
never going to be the same (like the birth of your first child). That was what the resurrection was for the
followers of Jesus. It didn’t just
change their lives. It changed their world.
A well known theologian and preacher, William Willimon once said, “On
the cross, the world did all it could to Jesus.
At Easter, God did all God could do to the world.”[1]
The evil powers of this
world will continue to throw all they have against us as we try to hold on to
hope and love. But as long as we have communities like Christ Church, then I
will never despair. I hope you won’t
either. When Jesus came back to life, we were given this hope that could never
be crushed. When we say “Christ is Risen.
He is risen indeed” it’s not just words of our liturgy, it’s our own little
earthquake and lightening strike. It’s a rallying cry that just won’t die.
The other thing that is a
rallying cry for our faith are baptisms and the promises the parents and
godparents make and we as a community make.
Whether it’s a baby like Benjamin, or an adult, baptisms are our protests
to the darkness---that hope is still alive, that we haven’t given up.
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