Matthew 28: 1-10
April 12, 2020
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
First Congregational UCC of Manhattan, KS
These are heavy days, aren’t they? I’ve been talking with a lot of you over these past few weeks and I know that we are all being affected differently by COVID….but we are all being affected.
Some are terrified about their health or the health of someone close to them. Many are worried about the financial impact of this disaster. Some have already lost jobs. Lots of folks are deeply exhausted from learning to do their jobs in new ways overnight...often while parenting young children full time. Some are lonely and others are craving more alone time. We miss our rituals, routines, hugs, just the feeling of being in a place with people….friends, strangers, just being together.
We go to bed at night worried about doctors and nurses and those who clean the hospitals. We worry and pray for the children who don’t have enough to eat or who live in homes that aren’t safe. Our hearts break wide open when we pray for those in prison, those who struggle with their mental health in the best of times. We worry about those who are battling addiction. We pray for our friends who are giving birth, burying loved ones, finding ways to continue regular medical treatments like chemo.
We worry...we worry….we worry. We lay down our heads to rest and our hearts are filled with concern and fear. Because there are so many unknowns right now.
So. Many. Unknowns.
If we’re lucky, when we wake in the morning we might get a brief moment of respite from our worry.
When we see the daylight stream in through our window and we start to stretch and there’s that brief moment of fuzziness as our brains continue to wake up. And we’ve forgotten about the world. And we wonder: let’s see, what do I have going on today?
And then we remember. We remember it all.
At some point (hopefully not right after waking up, but if we’re being honest sometimes it’s right after waking up) we check the news. We check the numbers. We see how many more have died. We worry some more. We pray some more. We wonder some more about where this is all headed.
“Now, preacher,” you might say, “This right here is not the most uplifting sermon I’ve ever heard. What does any of this have to do with Easter?”
I’m glad you asked.
Our Easter stories (and, yes, that’s plural because our sacred texts deliver multiple versions of what happened that first Easter morning) meet us right smack where we are. In the midst of worry, fear, grief, despair, shock, trauma.
Where WE are right now? That is EXACTLY where our faith ancestors were on the first Easter.
In fact, Mary and Mary were doing the same thing many of us are doing in the morning these days. Rolf Jacobsen says that when they went to the tomb they were going to check in on the work that Death had done. [1] They went to see their friend’s grave. They were up early, checking on the work of Death. Filled with worry, fear, grief, despair, shock, trauma.
Just like us, they were living through some heavy days.
When Mary and Mary arrive to check on the work of Death, they are surprised by the work of God.
God has been up even earlier than the two women, going about the work of creating new life even in the midst of death. And that work of bringing new life has already happened by the time they arrive. The tomb is sealed up tight and the work of Death is on full display….but behind that heavy stone lies the work of God.
The work of Resurrection. The work of new life being birthed even in the midst of heavy days.
I think this is important to notice: the Resurrection doesn’t happen BECAUSE the women come to see.
The Resurrection has ALREADY happened before they get there. The women are able to bear witness to the goodness of Resurrection precisely because they showed up to grieve.
They are coming to check in to see what work Death has done and find themselves surprised that God is able to bring about new life even in the midst of death.
Our participation is this isn’t even required. We don’t make Easter happen.
Easter doesn’t happen because we get dressed up in our Sunday best and dust off our Easter baskets and show up in crowded churches. Easter happens because God is the force in the universe that is always striving towards life, always reaching out in grace, always pursuing us relentlessly in the name of love.
Even in the heavy times.
Especially in the heavy times.
The good news of Resurrection is not a magic wand. It doesn’t make the bad news go away. Instead, the good news comes alongside the bad news and somehow makes it bearable.
After the two Marys are told that Christ is risen, they leave the tomb “quickly with fear and great joy” to spread the news.
They left with fear AND joy.
In this way, the author of Matthew’s gospel contrasts the faithful women with the soldiers at the tomb, who are meant to symbolize the ways of Empire. Upon learning what has happened, the Roman soldiers shake with fear and fall down as if dead.
The women are also afraid. But they do not fall down. Instead, they leave with fear AND joy to bear witness to the work of God.
Friends, one of the miraculous things about being human is that we can hold together so much at one time. We can be filled with fear AND joy at the same time. We can wake up each morning and check to see waht work Death has done while simultaneously savoring moments of deep and abiding joy.
Do not feel guilty about seeking and appreciating moments of joy in the midst of heavy times. Our capacity to tap into joy even while consumed with fear and grief is a God-given and holy gift.
The women don’t LOSE their fear when they tap into joy. Even though the angel tells them (as angels always do) “fear not!” they are still afraid (as humans usually are).
The good news of what God is doing doesn’t take away the bad news of what Death is doing. Instead, the good news of Resurrection enables the women to dig deep and find the strength to continue on.
The good news of what God is doing gives the women the courage they need to do what they’ve been called to do...even when they are still very much afraid.
That’s what courage is, after all. The ability to do hard things even while your knees are shaking.
Courage is getting out of bed in the morning even when the day seems to be too much to bear.
Courage is breathing through one minute to the next, one hour to the next, one day to the next until all those moments are strung together into a life.
Courage is finding a moment of joy even in the midst of the heaviest of times.
Courage is doing the work God has called us to do even when the world feels so very heavy.
So let us go with the women on this quiet and strange Easter morning. Let us be filled with fear and trembling and joy and...dare I say it? Hope. Even in this midst of these heavy days.
For we wake each day to check on the work of Death. And we find ourselves surprised by what God’s wild and reckless Resurrection Love. Even now. Especially now.
Thanks be to God.
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