Easter Day 2006

This is a sermon that the Rector, the Rev'd Canon Daniel S. Weir, preached on Easter Day, April 16, 2006.

Listen to these words from a poem - Resurrection Morning: Mark 16:8 – from my colleague, Timothy Haut in Deep River, Connecticut:

Off they ran

these women,

wide-eyed,

scared as rabbits,

silent as doom.

They must have run

toward home,

slammed the door

behind them,

stood in the kitchen,

in uncomprehending conspiracy,

their shaking hands

spilling fresh coffee

all over the resurrection morning.

They didn’t notice the redbud

flaming outside the window,

the delirious goldfinch

mirroring the morning light,

the sweet song

beginning to form somewhere

deep in their hearts

as they bent down,

weeping together,

to mop the floor.

(Timothy Haut, Easter, 2006)

As the women had entered the tomb, they saw a young man; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “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. But 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.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

The Gospel according to Mark is a strange book indeed. It begins with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” And it ends with “and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” So strange is the ending, that generations of Christians have wanted to add stories – like those in Matthew and Luke and John – stories of Jesus meeting the women in the garden. But Mark apparently didn’t want that kind of an ending. No Mark’s account of the good news, which begins with the baptism of Jesus, ends with a very clear proclamation that Jesus has been raised from the dead and equally clear instructions to the women about what they are to do, instructions which they, out fear, fail to follow. Mark’s Gospel, which begins with the obedience of Jesus as he is baptized, ends, not only with the disobedience of these women, but also the total failure of those closest to Jesus to grasp the meaning of the good news. Judas has betrayed him; Peter has denied him; the other disciples have deserted him and gone into hiding. The women, at least come to the tomb to perform the final loving act of properly anointing Jesus’ body, but then they let their keep them from sharing the good news. They remain silent, trapped in their fear and confusion.

And so we have it – the perfect obedience of Jesus and the total failure of those closest to him. We have love Incarnate dying upon Calvary’s cross, but far being defeated, love Incarnate conquering death itself. And we have disciples so in the grip of their fears that they cannot even see, let alone believe, Christ’s Easter victory.

And it is to these fearful men and women that the Easter good news comes: “… Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified...has been raised…he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” It is those who denied him and deserted him that Jesus will meet as they return to Galilee. It is there, at home, in the ordinary dailyness of life that Jesus will meet them. Not there at the tomb, for that is the place of death, but at home where new life will be found, life in the Risen Christ.

In human terms, these disciples didn’t deserve a second chance. They had failed, and failed so miserably, that we would have understood it if Jesus had simply given up on them. But he didn’t. He loved them, even as they denied and deserted him, he loved them and wanted for them this new life that flows forth from the Resurrection. And he wants that new life for us.

New life in Christ. Life that is not built upon the shifting sands of human rivalry and ambition, but upon the entirely free self-giving of God. Life that is formed by that self-giving love, shaped by it, reflecting it, making it present in the world through us.

I believe that the Resurrection reveals to us two incredible pieces of good news, news that deserves banner headlines at least three inches high. The first is that death has been conquered – but more than that – that death is in no way part of God’s will for us or for creation. Death is and always has been a product of human disobedience, is and always has been one of the foundation stones of the human order based upon envy, covetousness, and murder. Death is what happens when humans – like our first parents, Adam and Eve – see God, not as the One who self-giving is the source of all life, but as a rival, as one to be envied, as one whose knowledge of good and evil is to be desired, grasped after, stolen. Death is what happens when one brother – Cain – is jealous of his brother – Abel – because God appears to love him more – and in his jealous rage, brother kills brother. Death is what happens when love Incarnate comes among us and we, unwilling to accept that God’s love is freely given, with no strings attached, no requirement that we keep the rules, freely given to sinners, we, unwilling to allow God to be so prodigal in love, we drive love Incarnate out of the city and nail him to a cross.

God has no part in death, and on Easter morn, God disarms death and calls us to live the abundant life of the children of God.

The second piece of good news is this: Jesus, the crucified one, is raised for us as forgiveness. The good news of Easter comes first to those who have deserted and denied him. It comes as forgiveness, the overcoming of all that sin born out of fear. It comes as the perfect love which casts out all fear.

We, like those first disciples, are often in the grip of fear, paralyzed by it, driven by it to deny Christ, to run away from the opportunities and challenges of living the abundant live of self-giving love. Someone hurts us and we lash out in righteousness retaliation, afraid that not if we do not retaliate we will appear weak. We ignore the hurts of other and do not serve as Christ has served us, afraid that if we give anything to them there won’t be enough left for us. In the grip of our fears, we betray the very best that is in us and far too often fall further into envy of those more fortunate than us and into something like that jealous rage that gripped Cain. In the grip of our fears, we pursue the false gods of wealth and power and privilege. We betray the gift of grace given to us at our baptisms, the gift given as we were sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.

But Resurrection love casts out that fear. We are forgiven, restored to life in the Christ, reconciled to God and to one another.

And that does not happen for us in some distant garden, no matter how wonderful a pilgrimage to the Holy Land might be. That happens here in our Galilee, in the ordinary dailyness of lives as we hear the sweet song of forgiveness and new life sound somewhere deep in our hearts.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!