Apostle to the Apostles | Easter Day

John 20:1-18 (NRSV)

20:¹ Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. ² So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” ³ Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. ⁴ The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. ⁵ He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. ⁶ Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, ⁷ and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. ⁸ Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; ⁹ for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. ¹⁰ Then the disciples returned to their homes.

¹¹ But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; ¹² and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. ¹³ They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” ¹⁴ When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. ¹⁵ Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” ¹⁶ Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). ¹⁷ Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'” ¹⁸ Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Apostle to the Apostles

It was early on the first day of the week. So early that the sun had not yet risen. Have you ever experienced one of those nights where sleep felt so fleeting, where your mind was so occupied with thoughts, that you just gave up and rolled out of bed? It would seem that Mary Magdalene was having one of those nights. Her mind was utterly occupied by grief for someone she loved; for someone who loved her. So, Mary went to the tomb in the early morning darkness, and in the darkness of her grief.

When she arrived at the tomb, she saw that the stone had been rolled away. Now, her grief turned to fear that the body of Jesus had been stolen away. She ran to tell Simon Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved that someone—she uses the word “they” because she can’t identify the perpetrator of this act—has taken the Lord from the tomb and now his body is missing.

Peter and the other disciple take off for the tomb and end up running together. What was it that caused Peter to run toward Jesus and his tomb on this morning when he had spent the last few days running away from Jesus? I wonder what Peter felt. I imagine Peter felt wracked with guilt: guilt for his denial of Jesus after boasting about his loyalty, guilt for his abandonment of Jesus and not even showing up at the cross, guilt for running away as soon as things got dicey. Maybe even guilt that he never got the chance to tell Jesus he was sorry for all of those things.

The other disciple, the disciple whom Jesus loved, likely also felt such guilt. He had also run away and abandoned Jesus, but he did stand with Jesus’ mother, Mary, and the other women at the cross. And Jesus had placed his mother into this disciple’s care (_{c.f. John 19:26-27}). This disciple outran Peter and arrived at the tomb first. When he peered inside, he saw the linen burial wrappings.

When Peter arrived, always the brash one, he didn’t stop at the entrance. He went right into the tomb. Peter, too, saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had covered Jesus’ head neatly rolled up in a place by itself.

Then, the other disciple entered. And we’re told that he saw and believed. But what did he believe, exactly? He tells us that “as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must be raised from the dead” (_{John 20:9 NRSV}), so what the disciple believed was not that Jesus had been raised.

Remember, this disciple and Peter had already seen a resuscitation from death when Lazarus was raised from the dead (_{c.f. John 11:43-44}). What they saw in the tomb of Jesus didn’t look like that. When Lazarus was resuscitated, his stone had to be removed. Lazarus was bound hand and foot in his burial cloths, and others were tasked with loosing Lazarus’s bonds. This surely looked—as Mary Magdalene feared—like evidence of a grave robbery: a stolen body.

Did the disciple merely believe that the body of Jesus was gone? Or, did he believe that something more was afoot—something God-related—without fully understanding what it was or what it might mean? We aren’t given any more insight into the beloved disciple’s belief. Instead, we’re told that he and Peter went home. It almost feels like yet another abandonment. Only later will these two disciples understand what the absence of Jesus’ body means.

But Mary Magdalene had returned to the tomb. As Peter and the beloved disciple walked away, Mary stayed. Like Mary the sister of Martha and Lazarus, it is another woman who teaches us what faithful disciple do by her example. She stays. She weeps, and though it seems she doesn’t expect anything to happen, she chooses to be present even with what she has lost. Mary mourns the loss of Jesus’ life, and now the loss of his body.

And as Mary wept, she bent over to look into the tomb. She hadn’t looked inside yet. As soon as she saw the stone was rolled away, she ran to Peter and John. Finally, Mary looks inside to see for herself the place where Jesus’ body had been laid. But the tomb is no longer empty. Two angels in white were sitting where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head and the other at the feet. Even the angels came to see the empty tomb.

Some Biblical scholars suggest that the way the angels sat on the slab reflects the mercy seat flanked by Cherubim which sat atop the Ark of the Covenant where God’s presence was (_{c.f. Exodus 25:17-22}). But if John intends this as a reflection of the mercy seat, then there must be some irony involved. In this reflection, God’s presence is absent. The angles are, perhaps, giving reverence to the emptiness of the space, in awe of the fact that God has raised Jesus from the dead. God has done something new, and nothing will ever be the same because of this now-empty space.

Mary was so lost in her grief that she doesn’t recognize these angels for what they are, even when they speak to her and ask Mary why she is weeping. Still assuming that a grave robbery has taken place, Mary again says that an enigmatic “they” have taken her Lord away and she doesn’t know where “they” have laid him (_{John 20:13}). Yet even as she spoke to the angels of her sorrow and loss, Mary was grieving too deeply to recognize the sight she has seen. So, she turns away from the tomb and the angelic witnesses of Christ’s resurrection within.

The tomb, with angels and symbolism and implications of God’s handiwork can’t hold Mary’s interest. Her thoughts are on Jesus. And when Mary turns around, she encounters the one she has lost; the one she seeks. Only, she doesn’t recognize him.

Isn’t that the effect that Grief and fear, even desperation, can have on us? These things can cause us to not recognize the reality of what’s right in front of us. Mary was obviously looking through eyes of grief, probably trying to see through her tears which, maybe she tried to hide and wipe away when she turned and noticed that she wasn’t alone in this place.

When Jesus, whom Mary supposed was the gardener, also questioned Mary about her weeping as the angels had just done, Mary requested information, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away” (_{John 20:15 NRSV}). All it takes is for Jesus to speak her name for grief’s spell that held Mary captive to be broken. Mary turned to Jesus, recognized him, and addressed him as her teacher.

That’s all it takes, isn’t it? When we hear Jesus call us, we can turn to him. Jesus told us that he is the Good Shepherd who lays down his life for the sheep (_{John 10:11}). He also said that the sheep hear his voice, and he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out (_{John 10:3}). The sheep of Jesus follow only him because they know his voice (_{John 10:4}).

Not everyone encounters the resurrected Christ in the same way because everyone’s experience is different. Everyone’s path to Jesus is different. When we hear the voice of Jesus, in whatever form it takes, we can turn away of our sin as we turn toward the risen Christ. The Good Shepherd has been calling us our whole lives, though we may not have been quick to listen and turn to him. Maybe some of us sitting in this place still haven’t.

The love Jesus has for each one of us is a patient and kind love. Jesus is calling us, and calling us by name. The testimony at the very beginning of John’s Gospel says, “He came to what was his own, and his own people did not accept him. But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God” (_{John 1:11-13 NRSV}). When we turn to Jesus, we become children of God.

It seems that Mary’s sudden reaction included an attempt to reach out and hold on to Jesus. But Jesus tells her not to hold on to him. This is not merely a reunion. This is not merely a missing-persons case that has been solved and everything can return to the way it was before Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. There is more at stake. Mary Magdalene learns from her teacher that she is even now being caught up in this more.

Jesus tells her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God’” (_{John 20:17 NRSV}). Easter is more than a reunion with happy tears and hugs all around. Easter propels us and invites us into God’s future. Mary’s relationship with Jesus cannot remain anchored in the past any more than the other disciples’ relationships can. There is a future that is bigger than all of them, and all of us, though we are invited and included in it.

The word apostle refers to one who is sent. As one who is sent by Jesus to the other disciples, Mary becomes—in essence—an apostle to the apostles. Jesus calls upon Mary Magdalene to proclaim this new beginning to the other disciples who would proclaim it to still others. Mary’s encounter of the resurrected Christ became her commissioning as an apostle.

And it becomes ours. We are sent into the world to tell everyone that Jesus is raised, that death is not the end, that death does not have the last word in the story of anyone’s life. Instead of clinging to the body of Jesus, Mary Magdalene went to proclaim what she knew to be true: that the end she had been grieving had turned suddenly into a new beginning. Mary Magdalene announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!” and she told them everything that Jesus had said to her.

Through our proclamation of the good news of Jesus Christ, others will hear the voice of Jesus calling them. Grief has given way to joy, mourning has given way to celebration, death has given way to life, the rejection we feared has turned to an acceptance that we did not expect. And like the apostles who came before us, we are sent to share this good news with all who might hear.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! (Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!).

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

Rev. Christopher Millay

Afraid | Easter Day

Worship video:

Mark 16:1-8

When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they could go and anoint Jesus’ dead body. ² Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they came to the tomb. ³ They were saying to each other, “Who’s going to roll the stone away from the entrance for us?” ⁴ When they looked up, they saw that the stone had been rolled away. (And it was a very large stone!) ⁵ Going into the tomb, they saw a young man in a white robe seated on the right side; and they were startled. ⁶ But he said to them, “Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him. ⁷ Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.” ⁸ Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid. (CEB)

Afraid

Of all the Gospel accounts that describe the reaction of the disciples on the Third Day, I think I like Mark’s the best. To me, Mark’s account feels the most real. In John’s Gospel, when the Disciples see Jesus, they’re filled with joy (_{John 20:20}). In Matthew’s Gospel, the women were filled with fear and excitement and they worshipped Jesus, (_{Matthew 28:8-9}) and when the men saw him, they worshipped him but some doubted (_{Matthew 28:17}).

Luke’s Gospel sounds similar to Mark’s in that the women were frightened of the two men in gleaming white clothes (_{Luke 24:4-5}). The other disciples—the men—as is typical, didn’t believe the women’s tale (_{Luke 24:11}). And when Jesus appeared to the disciples as a group, “They were terrified and afraid. They thought they were seeing a ghost” (_{Luke 24:37 CEB}).

In Mark’s Gospel, the men don’t even bother to show up at the tomb, and the women were so afraid at the resurrection message that they said nothing to anyone. It’s not exactly the glorious day we typically imagine, is it? While some of us might be thinking, What does fear have to do with Easter?, we might take a moment to consider how we would respond if we went to a tomb and some random messenger told us the dead person had been raised and we would soon see them. Even if the person who had died was someone we loved, how would we respond? I imagine the women were afraid the now un-dead Jesus really would appear to them.

Personally, I get why they were terrified. I don’t want to see a ghost either. If I was told that such an encounter with the formerly-deceased was forthcoming, I would probably try to make a run for it. And if that apparition did appear, I’d start throwing whatever I could find at the thing to make it go away. I would feel fear. I would feel terror. And anyone with me in that moment would probably witness the greatest come-apart the world has ever known. What would you do, honestly?

Also, consider the fact that, if Jesus is raised as the messenger proclaimed, the disciples—women and men—might have wondered what he would do to those who had abandoned and deserted him when he was arrested. What would someone who came back from the dead think about his own trusted followers who had disappeared, who fled into the night in fear as soon as they were confronted by the religious and political powers, who turned away from him as soon as things got tough? Jesus might have preached love in his lifetime, but the disciples had betrayed and abandoned him. If he was back, if he was like anyone else, he might be out for a little vengeful punishment. After all, God is just, and they were guilty.

What are we to do with this encounter: women fleeing from an empty tomb, overcome by terror, dread, and fear? They said nothing to anyone because they were afraid. What is the church to do with this? Truth be told, if we’ve read the Gospel of Mark, we shouldn’t be surprised by this last story of fear. The disciples and others in Mark’s Gospel were afraid. In Mark, fear acts almost as the antithesis of faith, and Jesus was always trying to get them to have faith instead of giving in to their fear.

When Jesus calmed the storm, he said to his terrified disciples, “Why are you frightened? Don’t you have faith yet?” (_{Mark 4:40 CEB}).

When the daughter of Jairus, the synagogue leader, had died, Jesus told him, “Don’t be afraid; just keep trusting” (_{Mark 5:36 CEB}) before he raised her from death.

When a woman touched Jesus and was healed from her disease, she fell down before him in fear and trembling before he told her that her faith had made her well (_{Mark 5:33-34}). 

When Jesus walked on the water, the Disciples saw him and screamed in terror thinking he was a ghost, and Jesus said, “Be encouraged! It’s me. Don’t be afraid” (_{Mark 6:49-50}).

When Jesus taught his disciples that he would be killed and raised up, they were afraid (_{Mark 9:32}).

When Jesus told the rich man to go and sell what he had and give to the poor because it’s difficult for the wealthy to enter the Kingdom of Heaven and said “many who are first will be last. And many who are last will be first,” everyone who heard this teaching was afraid (_{Mark 10:31-32 CEB}).

Can we not imagine why Mark simply ends with the words, “Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid” (_{Mark 16:8 CEB}). Of all the Gospel accounts, Mark’s text speaks most accurately to how wretched and fearful we often are. Everyone who reads Mark’s Gospel gets confronted with the question: will our response to Jesus be fear or faith. So, honestly, I appreciate Mark’s candidness about who we really are, and how afraid we often are about everything.

We post-modern Christians are sometimes even afraid to admit that the resurrection is what it is. We’re secretly embarrassed by the whole idea. Since the mid-twentieth century, some theologians have denied that the resurrection happened. They claim resurrection is a rather awkward tale we’ve conjured up to give us comfort in the face of our impending death, little more than a feel-good measure.

But Paul makes it clear that the resurrection of Jesus is the reality, not a figment of imagination. He said, “So if the message that is preached says that Christ has been raised from the dead, then how can some of you say, ‘There’s no resurrection of the dead’? If there’s no resurrection of the dead, then Christ hasn’t been raised either. If Christ hasn’t been raised, then our preaching is useless and your faith is useless. We are found to be false witnesses about God because we testified against God that he raised Christ, when he didn’t raise him, if it’s the case that the dead aren’t raised…” (_{1 Corinthians 15:12-15 CEB}).

Without the resurrection, we have nothing to preach, no good news to proclaim to the world. If Jesus has really and truly been defeated, then we may as well suck it up because everything we witness in the world every day is true. Evil reigns because evil is powerful. Sometimes we see glimpses of goodness here and there, but in the end we die. Everyone dies. Empires and Republics rise and fall. The world spins on its way to oblivion, so we may as well heed the words of Ecclesiasts and eat, drink, and be merry, because ultimately nothing matters. It might even be easier to put on a brave face and deal with God’s absence.

Because, if Jesus has been raised from the dead, then the consequences suggest that, like the women, we have good reason to fear! If Jesus is raised, then nothing is truly immovable, no reality is unchangeable, no future is limited. If God is really on the loose like this, overturing death and flipping the hard facts of life on their head, then we might really face a present and future reality that is beyond our control. If Christ has been raised, then the possibilities are endless! So, it’s understandable—the women at the tomb would certainly understand—if we balk in fear when Paul echoes the messenger at the empty tomb and says, “But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead” (_{1 Corinthians 15:20a CEB}).

All Christian preaching—from the first sermon by Peter in Acts of the Apostles, to the last sermon preached before the Lord returns and the world is made new—all Christian preaching begins with Easter. It begs the question, is Easter Day a big Sunday, or is every Sunday a little Easter? While both are true, in light of Paul’s words, it’s clear that every Sunday is a little Easter. Christ is risen! With the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, God has rewritten human history. God’s righteousness shall overcome evil, sin, and death. The story is not over!

The women approached the tomb that day thinking that the story was over. Jesus had died, and that was that. They would grieve. They would wish the things he had said had come true. But, in the end, the story of Jesus was just another sad story with a tragic ending. To their terrified surprise, they were confronted by a new beginning, a new reality. This story hadn’t ended after all. No, this story had just begun.

Jesus has been raised from the dead, and with his resurrection, God showed us how the world ought to be: a world where there is no more mourning, crying, death, or pain. A world where we forgive in the same way that we have been forgiven. A world where God’s will is done on earth in the same way that God’s will is done in heaven. A world where everyone receives their daily bread because enough is always a feast.

A world where we love our neighbors and recognize that all the world is our neighbor. A world where the hopeless receive a kingdom, where the grieved are made glad, where the humble inherit the earth, where the hungry and thirsty are fed until they are filled, where the merciful received mercy, where the pure in heart see God, where the peacemakers become God’s children, where those who suffer harassment, insult, and evil receive a joyful and glad reward.

“‘Don’t be alarmed! You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised. He isn’t here. Look, here’s the place where they laid him. Go, tell his disciples, especially Peter, that he is going ahead of you into Galilee. You will see him there, just as he told you.’ Overcome with terror and dread, they fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid” (Mark 16:6-8 CEB).

That could have been the end of the story. If the women had remained imprisoned by their fear, we never would have known. But they did overcome their fear. And they did tell the story. How could they not? And how can we not? Christ has been raised! And the world is forever changed. But, perhaps most importantly, we—like the women on that first Easter morning—are changed, too. And we can never leave the empty tomb the same way we came to it.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

~Rev. Christopher Millay

Raised with Christ | Easter Day

Video of the full Easter service

 

Colossians 3:1-4

¹ Therefore, if you were raised with Christ, look for the things that are above where Christ is sitting at God’s right side. ² Think about the things above and not things on earth. ³ You died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. ⁴ When Christ, who is your life, is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory. (CEB)

Raised with Christ

Two weeks ago, when I preached on Ezekiel 37, I made the comment that familiarity with a text can stop us from looking for something new, or even render us unable to hear or see newness. Certain holy days have the same air of familiarity to them, and Easter Day is probably the most familiar of them all. Almost everyone who has had any contact at all with Christianity knows the story of Easter in the simplest terms: Jesus was raised from the dead. We can even sum it up in one word: resurrection. (In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, amen).

Just kidding.

But it is reality isn’t it? You might assume that Easter should be an easy preaching experience. I mean, it’s Easter! It’s the most important holy day of our Christian Faith! This ought to be easy, right?

But I will confess to you that there have been times when the preacher in me has dreaded the approach of Easter. Not because I don’t love the holy day, not because what we celebrate on Easter isn’t important, but because it’s intimidating and difficult to approach a subject in a sermon that everyone already seems to know about. I mean, even people who only show up to church once a year know what Easter is about. For some, an Easter sermon is the only sermon they ever hear. We’re all experts on Easter. Everyone is an authority on Easter. We know what happened. Even those who don’t believe in resurrection know what we Christians believe happened. We know about Easter.

Yet, knowing about Easter is hardly enough. It doesn’t take a deep examination of the people around us, or our broader society, or—dare I say—ourselves, to realize that we Christians don’t always live Easter very well. We—and I mean all of us, including myself—often fail to live out the ways our resurrection life ought to be lived. We either forget, or we close our eyes to the fact that there are ethical implications for resurrection people. Jesus was raised from the dead, not merely so we can live with God in heaven at some future point in time, but also so that we can live resurrection lives now and share that resurrection life with others.

Time is always a strange and fluid thing in our faith. We can talk about one subject as something that has been definitively accomplished, something that is currently being accomplished, and something that will yet be accomplished. Salvation, for example, is talked about in Scripture as a done deal: we are saved (_{Acts 15:11; Ephesians 2:5, 8}). Yet, salvation is also described as something currently underway and something we have to continue to work out: we are being saved (_{c.f. 1 Corinthians 1:18, 15:2; 2 Corinthians 2:15-16; Philippians 2:12}). And salvation is described as something that will yet be, a future reality: we will be saved (_{Romans 5:9-10}). Because of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, all three are true at the same time.

Regarding our own resurrection, Paul talks about it as something that will happen in the future in Romans 6. Yet, in Colossians, resurrection is described as something that we experience now. In Romans 6, Colossians 3, and 1 Corinthians 15, we’re told that the resurrection informs how we live, now, while we’re still in the flesh. Paul tells us to sober up, act like we ought to act, and don’t sin (_{c.f. 1 Corinthians 15:34}). So, if resurrection is not only a future event, but something we live now, then what does your resurrection look like?

Colossians 2:12 says, “You were buried with him through baptism and raised with him through faith in the power of God, who raised him from the dead” (_CEB). Later in chapter 2, we’re asked, “If you have died with Christ to the way the world thinks and acts, why do you submit to rules and regulations as though you were living in the world?” (_{Colossians 2:20 CEB}).

And, while the author of Colossians was talking about erroneous religious practices and philosophies that were creeping their way into the church—human traditions rather than Christ (_{c.f. Colossians 2:8b})—the point has a broad application. There are foolish deceptions and philosophies that we hold to that are not of Christ. What are the ideologies and values to which we offer our loyalty and even rationalize as Christian that are not of Christ? Would we know how to identify those things within ourselves and begin to take the log out of our own eye? Certainly not without the grace of God.

Easter is the biggest reminder of the Christian Year that God’s grace is with us. Easter helps us to remember the truth about ourselves: that we belong to Christ, that God loves us deeply, that the trajectory of our lives has been fundamentally changed, that our values are the values of God, not the petty and transitory values of sinful human beings. Our values begin and end with love. If the way we treat others, speak about others, or think about others is anything less than love, then we can be assured that that particular ideology or value is not one that God shares with us. Easter reminds us whose we are, and who God’s grace has made us to be.

I remember hearing a story years ago about parents who dropped their son off at college. And, after the hugs and tears, they told him two things before they drove away: 1) Remember that we love you. 2) and remember that you are baptized. When we remember, continually, that we have been baptized into the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ, we remember that the life we are living ought to look different to the eyes of the world.

Our baptism stands as a reminder to us that our allegiance has shifted dramatically from the things of this world—the world below—to “the things that are above where Christ is sitting at God’s right side” (_{Colossians 3:1b CEB}). Do you remember the promises that were made in your own baptism and confirmation? “Do you renounce the spiritual forces of wickedness, reject the evil powers of this world, and repent of your sin? Do you accept the freedom and power God gives you to resist evil, injustice, and oppression in whatever forms they present themselves? Do you confess Jesus Christ as your Savior, put your whole trust in his grace, and promise to serve him as your Lord, in union with the church which Christ has opened to people of all ages, nations, and races?” (_{The United Methodist Hymnal, 34}).

How do we live out these baptismal promises? How do we live our resurrection life? The author of Colossians tells us to look heavenward.

“Therefore, if you were raised with Christ, look for the things that are above where Christ is sitting at God’s right side. Think about the things above and not things on earth. You have died, and your live if hidden with Christ in God” (_{Colossians 3:1-3 CEB}).

To be clear, this doesn’t mean that we should despise everything on Earth. The author is not teaching us that earthly things are nothing. God made the earth. God made the life and life-sustaining systems that are on earth. In fact, our misuse of the earth and its resources, the damage we cause to creation, are matters over which we’re called to repent. We’re called to care for and tend creation. But earthly things and worldly power are finite and perishable. Earthly things are not worthy of our greatest loyalty, nor are they worthy of being our ultimate goal. God is. If we have died to this world and been raised with Christ, then our values will begin to reflect the values of God’s rule and reign.

We’re told that our life is hidden with Christ in God. Our life is not hidden from the world. Rev. Cathy Hoop, a Presbyterian pastor in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, talks about this text by describing the game of hide-and-seek. It’s a game that evolves with age. We start children out with peek-a-boo when they’re toddlers. Then, we move into the actual game of hide-and-seek, but it can take young children time to get the point of the game. Little children tend to hide in the same place over and over again, yet they’re amazed every time their parents find them. (I mean, when you find a good hiding spot, you might as well wear that thing out). Kids that age trust in their hiding place. If our life is hidden with Christ in God, then we can trust in that perfect hiding place, and we can trust that, though hidden, we are not lost. In fact, we’re perfectly found.

Then, the game evolves again. The best version of hide-and-seek is sardines. It’s reverse-hide-and-seek where the person who is “it” is the one who hides and everyone else gets to seek. But, every time the person is found, the finder has to hide with them until they’re all packed into a single hiding space like sardines in a tin. It’s curious that the element of fear in regular hide-and-seek is that you might not be found by the one who seeks. The element of fear in sardines is that you won’t find the hiding place with all the others, and you’ll be left wandering the darkness alone.

God is our hiding place, but we don’t live hidden from the world. We want our family, our friends, our coworkers—everyone—to discover that perfect hiding place where we are wrapped in God’s love and grace-filled presence. After Jesus was killed, the disciples tried to hide from the world. But the Holy Spirit compelled them to go out into the world instead. They had a story to tell. They had a hiding place to share. As Jesus Christ sought out the lost and forsaken and rejected people of the world, so must we.

The ethical implications of resurrection life means that we welcome others into the love of Christ our God. In all things, love is our measuring stick. Love is our guide. Because Christ is our life here, now, and beyond time itself. When Christ is revealed, we will be revealed with Christ. We will find ourselves found. And no matter what happens, we can trust that we are safely protected and securely hidden with Christ in God.

We have been raised with Christ. What does resurrection life look like to you? That’s the question I hope you’ll discuss with your family and friends throughout this Easter week and season.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

Rev. Christopher Millay

Witnesses | Easter Day

Acts 10:34-43

³⁴ Peter said, “I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another. ³⁵ Rather, in every nation, whoever worships him and does what is right is acceptable to him. ³⁶ This is the message of peace he sent to the Israelites by proclaiming the good news through Jesus Christ: He is Lord of all! ³⁷ You know what happened throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism John preached. ³⁸ You know about Jesus of Nazareth, whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit and endowed with power. Jesus traveled around doing good and healing everyone oppressed by the devil because God was with him. ³⁹ We are witnesses of everything he did, both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They killed him by hanging him on a tree, ⁴⁰ but God raised him up on the third day and allowed him to be seen, ⁴¹ not by everyone but by us. We are witnesses whom God chose beforehand, who ate and drank with him after God raised him from the dead. ⁴² He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. ⁴³ All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.” (CEB).

Witnesses

Let’s be honest, resurrection is not an easy sell in our modern world. I’d imagine that a lot of us have a difficult time believing in such a thing. And, if we do believe the resurrection happened, many of us hold the assumption that the resurrection doesn’t really affect us right now, there’s no immediate resurrection-impact on our lives, because it’s something that won’t really come into play for us until after we die.

That’s kind of how Karl Marx viewed religion. The reason Marx called religion “the sigh of the oppressed creature” and “the opium of the people” is because he thought religion promised oppressed and poor people a heaven that is denied them on earth. Thus, songs like The Preacher and the Slave became popular. Its refrain says: “You will eat [You will eat] bye and bye [bye and bye] in that glorious land above the sky. [Way up high]. Work and pray, [Work and pray], live on hay, [live on hay], you’ll get pie in the sky when you die. [That’s a lie!].”

What Marx and, I suspect, many Christians failed—and still fail—to recognize is that the resurrection of Jesus Christ isn’t about the future only. The resurrection is about now. The resurrection leads individuals and communities in the conversion of their hearts and minds now.

Part of our misunderstanding of the resurrection comes from the fact that we misunderstand the Gospels, themselves. We read the Gospels from beginning to end and assume that the resurrection is the miraculous happy ending to the story of Jesus. And, hopefully, we’ll get a miraculous happy ending, too when we die. I mean, we love happy endings, right? Even if we read a book or watch a movie where the ending isn’t happy, I at least feel some satisfaction if the bad guys face justice. I don’t like it when they get away with stuff. We want the happy ending that Jesus got.

What we forget—perhaps what we’ve never even noticed—is that the only reason the Gospels were written, the only reason we have the accounts of Jesus’ birth, life, and teaching at all—is because of the resurrection. The resurrection of Jesus is the precondition for the witness of the Gospel accounts. The resurrection is the basis for every account of Jesus’ life and ministry. Without the resurrection, we would not have the four Gospels, nor a New Testament, nor a Christian faith. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is central to everything. That’s why Easter is the holiest day for Christian people. We all love Christmas, but Christmas only ranks #3 on the list of holiest days on the Christian calendar. Pentecost comes in at #2. Without Easter, without the resurrection, we wouldn’t have the other celebrations.

When Peter visited the house of Cornelius—a Gentile centurion—and preached this message to his household, the foundation of Peter’s witness to Cornelius was the resurrection. None of Jesus’ earlier activities could be understood without the resurrection. That fact is clear in the Gospel accounts. The disciples, themselves, understood nothing of Jesus’ teaching and ministry until after Jesus was raised from the dead.

Only in light of the resurrection did God’s revelation through Jesus Christ make sense. Only in light of the resurrection could Jesus Christ be claimed and affirmed as both divine and human. Only in light of the resurrection could the saving grace offered to us through the life, teaching, and death of Jesus be believed as God’s initiative to save us and be reconciled to us.

Without resurrection, we have nothing. That’s why Paul wrote, “So if the message that is preached says that Christ has been raised from the dead, then how can some of you say, ‘There’s no resurrection of the dead’? If there’s no resurrection of the dead, then Christ hasn’t been raised either. If Christ hasn’t been raised, then our preaching is useless and your faith is useless… …If the dead aren’t raised, then Christ hasn’t been raised either. If Christ hasn’t been raised, then your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins, and what’s more, those who have died in Christ are gone forever. (1 Corinthians 15:12-14, 16-18 CEB). The resurrection is central to everything we believe and everything for which we hope.

The resurrection is also central to a Christian understanding of peace, freedom, and impartiality. And I said, a Christian understanding because we can use those same words in a secular sense and have radically different meanings from the Christian sense.

Peter’s first line to Cornelius’s household is that he really is learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another. Think about how incredible that statement is coming from a Jew who had lived his entire life in the unquestioned certainty of God’s particularity. God chose the Jewish people, not the gentiles (which is everyone else). Yet, Peter comes to recognize, by God’s initiative, that God does not show partiality or favor. Rather, God offers restoration and inclusion in God’s plan of salvation to all people.

There are whispers of God’s universal love and care for all people throughout the Hebrew Scriptures. After all, the promise God made to Abraham included the words: “all the families of the earth will be blessed because of you” (Genesis 12:3c CEB). God’s exclusive claim of Abraham’s descendants ended on a note of God’s radical inclusion of all the families of the earth.

The prophet Jonah was sent to a foreign city, Ninevah, so the people there could change their hearts and minds and find salvation in God. When Jonah got angry that God didn’t kill them all, God had to remind Jonah that God cared about those people and even their cattle, too.

We find that same theme in the New Testament, too. When the angel announced the birth of Jesus to the shepherds, the angel said, “Look! I bring goods news to you—wonderful, joyous news for all people” (Luke 2:10 CEB).

God took the initiative in changing and expanding Peter’s understanding of who is included in God’s plan of salvation. Peter experienced a conversion. His unquestioned assumptions about the particularity of Israel grew into a new insight of God’s expansive impartiality and inclusion of all peoples.

Another piece that we we desperately need to understand—just as Peter had to learn—is that salvation is not our plan. Salvation is not something we do. Salvation is neither ours to offer nor ours to withhold from others. Salvation belongs to God and is offered by God to all. God doesn’t show partiality to one group over another, which tells us that the church can and should become a community of radical reconciliation and peacemaking between women and men, rich and poor, Jew and Gentile, gay and straight, between differing cultures and faiths and skin tones and languages.

It sounds nice, right? God loves everyone, and so should we. Yet, Peter’s new insight into God’s cosmopolitan impartiality should not make us feel particularly good about ourselves. We can’t pat ourselves on the back and feel good about the fact that we serve a God who knows and loves everyone. That’s not where this should lead.

Rather, Peter’s insight ought to chasten us because, while we’re called to love everyone, we don’t. Do we? I don’t.

God is the God of impartiality, so we’re supposed to be a people of impartiality, but we aren’t. Are we? I’m not.

God wants us to be in relationship with all kinds of people but we don’t often bother to build relationships with those who are different from us. We don’t have to look much further than the political rhetoric of the day to see how partial our thoughts can be. Much of the time, I act like God is partial, and I assume that God favors my way of doing things. Don’t we all do that?

Yet, the resurrection of Jesus Christ demands conversion. There’s some irony in the fact that Peter became the foundation for the Church’s own conversion in its earliest days. Peter’s name means rock. The image of a rock doesn’t lend itself much to change, yet Peter had his mind changed by God. When the other leaders of the church in Jerusalem questioned Peter about what he’d done, He convinced them that God had accepted even the Gentiles, and the whole church experienced a conversion. If God could change Peter’s mind, then God can change our minds, too.

Peter was a witness to the resurrected Jesus. Peter, along with other witnesses, ate and drank with Jesus after he was raised from the dead. And, it wasn’t until after Christ’s resurrection that Peter and the other disciples began to understand the radical social implications of resurrection life.

What we proclaim on Easter is that Christ has been raised from the dead, and Jesus Christ really has taken away the sins of the world. Christ alone is appointed by God as the judge of the living and the dead, and everyone… everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name. Christ is Lord of all.

Christ has been raised from death. And, we are called to be witnesses of Christ’s resurrection by living resurrection before the eyes of the world now, by living out God’s radical impartiality now. One of my seminary professors at Duke was fond of saying, “Show me your resurrection.” So, what does your resurrection look like? Like Peter, in what ways do we still need to experience conversion?

We don’t have to wait until we die before living a Resurrection life. We can live Resurrection now. We can live in the power of God’s Holy Spirit, and in the grace offered to us because of Christ’s work on our behalf now. Resurrection is where our faith begins and ends. The only reason any of us are here today is because Christ has been raised. Resurrection is the message of Easter. And Peter reminds us that everyone is invited to dine at the table of the Lord. Everyone is invited to live as members of God’s family. All of us, together, are the reason Christ came into the world and was raised from the dead.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

Rev. Christopher Millay

Acceptable | Easter Day

Acts 10:34-43

34 Peter said, “I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another. 35 Rather, in every nation, whoever worships him and does what is right is acceptable to him. 36 This is the message of peace he sent to the Israelites by proclaiming the good news through Jesus Christ: He is Lord of all! 37 You know what happened throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism John preached. 38 You know about Jesus of Nazareth, whom God anointed with the Holy Spirit and endowed with power. Jesus traveled around doing good and healing everyone oppressed by the devil because God was with him. 39 We are witnesses of everything he did, both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They killed him by hanging him on a tree, 40 but God raised him up on the third day and allowed him to be seen, 41 not by everyone but by us. We are witnesses whom God chose beforehand, who ate and drank with him after God raised him from the dead. 42 He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. 43 All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name.” (CEB)

Acceptable

It isn’t always easy to learn something new, especially if the new thing goes against what you’ve always known. I remember when I was first started playing guitar, my Grandpa taught me to play the G chord a certain way. And I got comfortable playing G that way. Sometime later, someone told me to try it with different fingers. They said it would be easier to transition to several other chords, and I could make the changes faster.

I didn’t like it. It was difficult, uncomfortable for my hand, and it made my pinky hurt. It wasn’t how my Grandpa taught me to play a G chord. The new way was messing with what I had always known. But, as I kept practicing, I realize the person was right. If I played G the other way, switches to other chords were faster because my hand barely had to move. Now, I can play a G chord in a lot of different ways.

Learning something new is even more difficult when it goes against something that’s deeply ingrained within us. Especially if the old thing is something we KNOW is right and the new thing is something we KNOW is wrong. We’re liable to put a lot of energy into fighting the new thing rather than giving it honest consideration. That’s what happened to the Jerusalem Council, the full assembly of Israel’s elders, when the apostles came along doing weird new things: preaching, teaching, and healing in the name of Jesus Christ. Paul’s teacher, Gamaliel, suggested that the Council let the apostles go after they were arrested. If their new thing was of human origin, it would fail just like all the other failed movements. But, if this new thing originated with God, then no one would be able to stop it. Instead, the elders of Israel might find themselves fighting God. The Council let the apostles live but had them beaten and told them not to speak in the name of Jesus anymore. Most of them couldn’t accept the new thing God was doing.

Learning something new is what happened to Paul. You might remember that he was called Saul before he took the name Paul, and he used to hunt Christians down to arrest them. Acts 8:3 puts it this way: “Saul began to wreak havoc against the church. Entering one house after another, he would drag off both men and women and throw them into prison” (CEB). Later, as he was on his way to Damascus to arrest more Christians and drag them as prisoners to Jerusalem, a vision of Jesus showed him that the new way was a God thing, and Saul needed to get on board with it. Within a few days, the man who had been breathing murderous threats against Christians was preaching the good news all over Damascus.

Peter had a lesson to learn, too. Now, note that this is the Christian-Peter; the leader-of-the-church-Peter; the Peter who was the reason people would set their sick friends and family members out in the streets in the hope that when Peter walked by, his shadow would touch them-Peter. This Peter still had a hard lesson to learn about the new thing God was doing.

You see, Peter was a faithful Jewish man, and he knew, to the core of his understanding of God’s ways, that salvation was for Jews. His Jewish faith also told him that Jews were not supposed to associate with Gentiles. He knew that as truth. Faithful living required that he have no association with Gentiles. But then, he had this weird vision. He was up on the roof of a house in Joppa when he saw heaven opened and a large linen sheet being lowered by its four corners. Inside the sheet were all kinds of animals, reptiles, and birds. A voice told him to get up, kill, and eat. But Peter said, “Absolutely not, Lord! I’ve never eaten anything impure or unclean.” Then, the voice told him, “Never consider unclean what God has made pure.” This scenario happened three times, and left Peter bewildered. Then, three Gentile men who had been sent by the Centurion, Cornelius, showed up at the gate looking for him, and God told Peter to go.

You know what the first thing Peter said to the crowd of Gentiles gathered inside Cornelius’s house was? “You all realize that it is forbidden for a Jew to associate or visit with outsiders. However, God has shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean” (Acts 10:28 CEB).

Now, at this point, it doesn’t seem like Peter was convinced of any new thing, any serious challenges to the certainty of what he already knew. The way Peter puts it, all he knew for sure was that God told him he couldn’t call the Gentiles dirty. He was obviously ill-at-ease, and it’s a racial-ethnic kind of ill-at-ease.

If God had not specifically told Peter to go, there is no chance that Peter would have gone to the house of an officer in the Roman Legion. Rome had conquered the independent Jewish Hasmonean Kingdom and occupied their homeland less than a hundred years prior. You can almost hear the reluctance and distaste dripping from Peter’s lips when he says, “You all realize that it is forbidden for a Jew to associate or visit with outsiders.” <Deep Sigh> “However, God has shown me that I should never call a person impure or unclean. For this reason, when you sent for me, I came without objection. I want to know, then, why you sent for me” (Acts 10:28-29 CEB).

Then, Cornelius told Peter his story, about an angel who visited him during his 3:00 prayers and said, “Cornelius, God has heard your prayers, and your compassionate acts are like a memorial offering to him. Therefore, send someone to Joppa and summon Simon, who is known as Peter” (Acts 10:31-32a CEB). Cornelius told Peter that he sent for him immediately, and Peter was kind enough to come, and now, here they all were, ready to listen to what the Lord had directed Peter to say.

Peter’s message begins with himself. “I really am learning that God doesn’t show partiality to one group of people over another. Rather, in every nation, whoever worships him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts 10:34-35 CEB). Before this moment, it was inconceivable to Peter that Gentiles could become disciples of Jesus. But there he stood, in a house full of Gentiles, ready to preach the good news of Jesus Christ because God had led him there and showed Peter that God was doing something new.

The message was this: God had anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; Jesus traveled around doing good and healing everyone and overpowering the devil. The disciples bore witness to the things Jesus did in Judea and Jerusalem. Then, Jesus was killed by crucifixion on a tree, but God raised him up on the third day and allowed him to be seen by those who knew him in life, who ate and drank with him on a daily basis. Jesus commanded the apostles to preach and testify that he is the one whom God appointed as judge of the living and the dead. And, everyone who believes in Jesus receives forgiveness of sins.

Even though it was contrary to what Peter had always known and held as faithful truth, Peter learned the new thing that God was doing, that people in every nation who worship God and do good are acceptable to God, even those who have no previous experience with Jesus, the Jewish faith, or what makes Jesus significant within it. It was unheard of! It was unimaginable! Throughout the whole of Acts 10, Peter’s long-held assumptions get replaced by God’s new thing.

We all have long-held habits and assumptions that we know, to the fullness of our conviction, are sacred and holy and right. With the same conviction, we know that those on the other side of those lines are sinful, unholy, and wrong, just like Peter thought of Cornelius and those of his household. We might even have Scripture to back up our positions, just like Peter did. But, when God moves outside of our interpretations of Scripture, when God decides to do something different, something like Easter, that new thing can turn our convictions and Biblical interpretations upside-down. Even the Scriptures tell us that God confounds human wisdom, so why should we be surprised, or affronted, when God proves our holy certainties false?

Our assumptions need adjusting from time to time, because God is not a prisoner of our assumptions. God is not constrained by what we think is right and holy. God acts. And when God acts, we’re often surprised—if not scandalized—by the things God does.

God took on human flesh and was born of a poor young virgin from some backcountry town? Most people had different ideas about God, believing God was too holy and set apart to ever do something so icky as becoming a human being.

Even the disciples rejected the idea that God’s Son would be killed by being crucified on a tree. They wanted to follow a victorious Messiah to restore the Kingdom of Israel, not a failure who would be killed. You might remember that Peter took Jesus aside a chewed him out for suggesting it.

And this resurrection thing: a mangled body, full of holes and a back flayed raw, with a chest cavity and heart pierced by a spear got up and walked around for forty days? He spoke to people, ate and drank with them, appeared to people inside of locked rooms?

In a day when the church is confronted with divisions of all kinds: race, ethnicity, beliefs about gun laws, abortion, human sexuality, immigration, war in the Middle East, to name only a few, it’s important for us to hear that no matter how many ways we try to tear ourselves apart, divide and separate from each other, and draw lines in the sand over issues, God continues to find ways to put us back together again. Peter came to realize that Jesus is Lord of All, and that’s a lesson we need to learn, too.

The resurrection of Jesus threw the doors of the church open wide—probably wider than we’re comfortable with. Sometimes we try to wrench them closed just a little more. But we are recipients of God’s Kingdom, not its doorkeepers. Resurrection means that whoever worships God and does what is right is acceptable.

Now, we can try to qualify what’s meant by “does what is right,” but the comments in the text about Cornelius suggest it’s quite simple. Cornelius loved God enough to pray, and he loved his neighbors enough to give generously to meet their needs. He loved God, and he loved his neighbors. He did works of justice, he loved mercy, and he walked humbly. That’s what God finds acceptable.

Resurrection means that anyone who believes, anyone who trusts in Jesus, receives forgiveness of sins. The question is, can we learn that lesson as well as Peter?

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

Rev. Christopher Millay

I Have Seen the Lord | 1st of Easter

John 20:1-18

Early in the morning of the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. 2 She ran to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they’ve put him.” 3 Peter and the other disciple left to go to the tomb. 4 They were running together, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and was the first to arrive at the tomb. 5 Bending down to take a look, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he didn’t go in. 6 Following him, Simon Peter entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths lying there. 7 He also saw the face cloth that had been on Jesus’ head. It wasn’t with the other clothes but was folded up in its own place. 8 Then the other disciple, the one who arrived at the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. 9 They didn’t yet understand the scripture that Jesus must rise from the dead. 10 Then the disciples returned to the place where they were staying.

11 Mary stood outside near the tomb, crying. As she cried, she bent down to look into the tomb. 12 She saw two angels dressed in white, seated where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head and one at the foot. 13 The angels asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.” 14 As soon as she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn’t know it was Jesus.

15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she replied, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.”

16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabbouni” (which means Teacher).

17 Jesus said to her, “Don’t hold on to me, for I haven’t yet gone up to my Father. Go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, ‘I’m going up to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'”

18 Mary Magdalene left and announced to the disciples, “I’ve seen the Lord.” Then she told them what he said to her. (CEB)

I Have Seen the Lord

The resurrection story tells of an event that is foundational to our Christian faith. The very first sermon in Christendom was preached by a woman named Mary Magdalene who proclaimed the resurrection of Jesus by shouting, “I have seen the Lord!” To most of us, this story contains an element of holiness which draws us to this building and this community of people so we can hear, see, and maybe even touch or taste something of the divine. We know the story: Jesus was raised from death to a new kind of life. Yet, the story seems hard to believe. Perhaps the question lingering at the back of our minds is a simple longing to know: Is it true?

It’s an honest and fair question to ask when you consider what Mary Magdalene proclaimed here. Someone was raised from the dead? Seriously? We’re modern people who like to think we’re advanced beyond the primitive naivety of our ancestors, but the truth is that ancient peoples were not stupid. In Luke’s version of events, when the women told the apostles that Jesus had been raised from the dead, the men dismissed their words as nonsense (c.f. Luke 24:11). But, as it often is the case, the women were right and the men should have listened to them. Later, when Paul proclaimed the Easter story to the Athenians on Mars Hill, they laughed and ridiculed him when he mentioned Jesus’ resurrection from the dead (c.f. Acts 17:32). Stuff like this didn’t happen. They had seen people die and the dead never came back to life. They didn’t believe it any more than we might be expected to believe it.

So, what are we to make of this story? Kurt Vonnegut had the idea that all stories have shapes which you can draw on a graph by marking the highs and lows that the character experiences along the plotline. Some of you know that I write fantasy. Some of it’s historical fantasy. Some it’s high fantasy. Some of it’s fantasy with Sci-Fi elements. Most of my stories start in the middle, somewhere between life is horrible and life is amazing. Then, bad things happen and they drop low, with a few more ups and downs thrown in for good measure. Finally, good things happen and they end on a high note. Why? Because I’m the author and I like happy endings.

The resurrection story starts low on the scale due to the recent tragedy of Jesus’ death. Then, it rises on the scale to a happy ending. One of the curious things about this story from John’s Gospel is how strongly it resembles the format of ancient Greek comedy such as that of the great playwright, Menander. John crafted the resurrection story with all the comedic elements necessary for a great laugh. Seriously, William Shakespeare couldn’t have written a better short-story comedy. We’ve got the mystery of a missing body, confusion on the part of the mourners, a frantic race to the tomb, bewilderment from the witnesses, sudden appearances of heavenly beings who are not recognized as such, mistaken identity, sudden recognition of the formerly dead person as alive-and-well (that’s the comedic resolution), and a race back to share the good news that everything is better than it was before.

Mary Magdalene is the story’s hero with whom we, as the audience, identify. She’s the one who holds the story together. The plot begins and ends with her, and she has the last word. Mary goes to the tomb and finds the stone has been removed. She runs back and tells Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved that someone has taken the Lord out of the tomb and she doesn’t know where they have laid him. The disciples run and find the tomb empty and leave. We’re told that the disciple whom Jesus loved “believed” but we’re not told what he believed. Did he believe Mary’s account that Jesus’ body was missing? Did he believe in the resurrection? Or, did he believe Jesus had ascended, which is kind of the emphasis in John’s Gospel? We’re left as confused about what this disciple believed as the disciples were at the missing body.

Mary, who must have run back to the tomb with the two disciples, stays there, weeping. Finally, she bends down to look into the tomb but finds it is no longer empty. It’s the kind of surprise twist that was a hallmark of ancient comedy. One angel is sitting at the head and the other at the feet of where Jesus’ body had been. And, they ask her why she’s weeping. Mary is so distressed that she doesn’t freak out, which is also part of the comedy of it. Without missing a beat, she answers their question by saying, “They have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve put him” (John 20:13, CEB).

As soon as she says this, she turns around and sees a man who wasn’t there a moment ago. We’re let in on the secret. It’s Jesus, but Mary Magdalene doesn’t recognize him yet. She supposes he’s the gardener. Disguise is another hallmark of ancient comedy. That’s why Shakespeare’s comedies had women disguising themselves as men and men disguising themselves as women all the time. Because it’s funny when the reveal comes and the disguised person says, Surprise! I’m a dude, not your wife, but thanks for thinking I’m pretty. The man whom she thinks is the gardener asks Mary the same question, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?” After all, she’s peering into an empty tomb, or a tomb with two living people inside of it. What is there to cry about?

Mary’s only concern is finding the missing body of her Lord. She’s so desperate that it doesn’t matter if the gardener is the guilty party or not. But if he was the one who moved Jesus’ body, she begs him to tell her where he is so she may get him. The disguise falls away when Jesus speaks her name: “Mary.” In that moment of familiarity when she hears her name on her Lord’s lips again, as she so often had, she knows him, speaks to him, and reaches out to take hold of him before he manages to get away again.

We have to admit that there is something in this story that lends itself to doubtfulness by those who hear it. It sounds like nonsense precisely because it goes against every experience of death we have ever encountered. I have presided over a lot of funerals in my nearly 14 years as an appointed pastor, and I have never seen a dead person get up out of their casket and walk away.

Yet, something about this story touches the deepest parts of us and tugs on the strings of our hope and faith. It reaches into the recesses of our hearts and minds where doubt and faith mingle and vie for our attention. In fact, I would argue that the very doubts we have about this story speak to the scale and power of the Easter proclamation that God raised Jesus Christ from death. What we proclaim in this story is that God has given us a miracle of love and forgiveness on such a massive scale that it calls to our hopes, is worthy of our faith and is, thus, open to our doubt. The resurrection is so big, so powerful, such an unbelievable example of love and forgiveness that how can we not question it? How can we not wonder if God would really do such a thing for us and, at the same time, experience wonder that God would do such a thing for us?

Easter is so big of an idea that our imaginations almost require us to relegate it to fantasy. That’s part of the beauty of Easter and the proclamation of Jesus’ resurrection. The promise of Easter has, throughout history, stood the juncture of the greatest doubt and the deepest faith. I wonder if that’s the reason why churches are so full on this day. We come because we’re looking for the answer to that question, Is it true? Easter, with its proclamation of God’s victory over death so that we can live, might just be a story large enough to reveal God to us and the measure of God’s love for us.

At the end of this story, Jesus tells Mary not to hold on to him, but to go and tell Jesus’ brothers and sisters that he is going up to his Father and their Father, to his God and their God. So, Mary lets go. She does as Jesus asked of her and declares, “I have seen the Lord!”

Ancient comedies often ended with a marriage, which is always the beginning of another story. We can ask, Is it true? We can also ask if we might see and believe, too. That’s actually the theme of the next passage in John’s Gospel. We know that Easter is a big Sunday. But every Sunday is a little Easter. Like any good story, the story of Jesus’ resurrection and the promises of Easter continues, and the journey between doubt and faith is what we wrestle with together as a community of faith called Church. Today, even amid our lingering doubts and questions, we proclaim that Jesus Christ is risen. It’s a claim big enough to be worthy of our faith. Especially when we know that the promise of Easter is that we, too, shall rise.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen!

~Pastopher