“Deep Dawn”

Luke 24:1-12

Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood

First Congregational UCC, Manhattan, KS 

April 17, 2022 - Easter Sunday

We are told that the women went to Jesus’s tomb early in the morning - at deep dawn. [1]  That time of day when the sun’s not peeking up over the horizon yet, but the light is just starting to change. The world has a flatness that’s a bit disorienting. The birds are warming up for their symphony.

Deep dawn. 

I wonder how the women felt in that in-between time of deep dawn. Making their way to the tomb of their friend. Can you see their small, quiet parade in your mind’s eye?

It’s been a week of parades, really. Last week we gathered together in this sanctuary to wave our palms. The scriptures tell us that the anticipation of the disturbance in the force was so great that even the rocks couldn’t keep quiet. Together, we raised our voices, “Hosanna! Save us!”

But a week later, it’s a very different parade. Just a small band of women-friends focused on the task at hand.

These women have been through hell this week. And after all the whispered schemes, the cries of acclamation and disgust, the back-room dealings, the ugly scene at Golgotha….here they are. 

Still. At deep dawn. Faithful. 

Luke’s gospel tells us some of their names – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James – and “other women” with them. So it seems there are at least five women making the solemn procession. 

Here they come  - early to the tomb. They are carrying with them their supplies – spices carefully prepared for taking care of their friend’s body. Did they feel sad? Scared? Tired? Angry? Hopeless? Resigned? All of that? We don’t know. We aren’t told. 

But here they come – right into the eye of this storm. 

It’s been a week of chaos. The destructive forces of evil unleashed in Jerusalem. The warnings from Jesus were clear – he told them and told them that things wouldn’t end well. But they were all surprised, I think, at just how ugly the forces of oppression and hate can be. 

As the winds die down and the storm rests for a bit, the women gather. Why do they do it? Is there a word that captures duty, love, faithfulness mingled together? 

If there is, I imagine this small, quiet parade is the textbook illustration for it. The women walk straight into the aftermath of the Mess of death. Duty, love, faithfulness embodied. 

But circumstances interrupt their good intentions. Because there is no body to anoint. That giant heavy stone is gone and the tomb is empty. And suddenly, before they even have time to come up with any theories about what’s going on, two shiny, gleaming men admonish them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.”

They say this like it makes any sense at all. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” Why are shiny men-angels always so confident and confounding? Don’t they know the dead are supposed to stay dead? Come on. That’s how it works. Everyone knows that. 

This is, of course, why Jesus’s other friends didn’t believe the women. Why they thought they were full of it. Our translation says the menfolk thought the womenfolk were telling an idle tale. The Greek there is leros. One of my favorite preachers, Anna Carter Florence, translates it as a word that I won’t say from the pulpit but you can say it in your head if you’d like: cow manure. 

THAT’S what the menfolk say. That these women are full of it, “cow manure.” The dead stay dead. It doesn’t make sense to look for the living among the dead because the dead won’t be alive – they’ll be dead. 

Might I pause for a moment and note that you may be in utter agreement with the menfolk. I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I, personally, have never seen a dead person become un-dead. I get it. 

But this story – this wild cow-manure-tastic story that is at the center of our faith – confronts us again as it does each year. The winds of this powerful gospel-storm knock us off our feet once again and we are, some of us, breathless with uncertainty and doubt. 

Because – what if? What if it’s somehow true? What if death isn’t the end? What if there is More? 

************************

This story is messy. There’s no way around it. We don’t even have a single version of the resurrection. We have four significantly different versions in each of the four gospels. Plus the resurrection echo stories like the one we’ll hear next week with “Doubting” Thomas and the road to Emmaus and Jesus on the beach cooking up fish. There’s a lot that doesn’t really make sense. It’s messy. 

And I don’t know how you feel about all that mess. Would it be simpler if it were tidied up?

There’s so much in the world that begs for tidying. What if empires played nice and behaved reasonably? What if corporations could be trusted to always have our best interests at heart? What if we really didn’t have to study war no more? What if we each felt certain there was enough to go around and everyone had enough to share? What if our biggest problem was forgetting to get the trash to the curb in time for morning pick up? 

That would be nice. So nice. But the world we live in isn’t tidy. And the world these women lived in wasn’t tidy either. 

I wonder if there’s something about being keenly aware of all this Mess that makes the More seem plausible. When you’ve stared death in the face. When you’ve seen evil on the nightly news – or in person – and recognized it for what it is….I wonder if confronting the Mess somehow opens our hearts to the possibility of More? I’m not sure. 

What I do know is that this is a messy story. I assume that’s why we have all the different versions of it in our holy texts. Everything’s a bit out of control. And these women have been in the thick of it. They were there as Jesus walked to Golgotha. They were there at the cross as he was executed. And they made their solemn parade to the tomb at deep dawn. 

They had seen the Mess – walked with Jesus right into the storm head on. They were willing to look right into the eyes of the dead. They did not flinch. 

Peter, too, had seen some Mess. After all, it was Peter who denied Christ three times in an attempt to save his own hide. And after he had done so, he wept bitterly. He knew what the Mess looked like. He was mired knee-deep in the Mess. He didn’t have to look any further than the closest mirror to see the Mess. 

But Peter – “But Peter!” – says the author of Luke -  “But Peter got up and ran to the tomb.” 

While the other disciples stood there so sure, mansplaining the women, chastising them for their idle tale…Peter was curious. He went to see for himself. 

I have to wonder if there was something about having looked into his own Messy soul that made Peter willing to suspend all common sense for a moment and reach out for the impossible. 

************************

“Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Well, probably they weren’t really looking for the living at all. Probably, the women were just trying to slog through the Mess of evil and its aftermath and they got accidentally caught in the middle of the More.  

What if showing up for the Mess and its aftermath matters? What if God is in the middle of the Mess and invites us wade into it, too? What if showing up for the Mess is how we find the More? 

Easter is a big ol’ Messy story. A story that cannot be contained on this one day – it explodes out of our ancient texts in chaotic, confounding snippets. It bursts forth like the dogwood, forsythia, and redbuds putting on a show. It resonates in our chests like the rumble of the organ and tickles our ears like the brightness of the brass.  

The spirit of Easter - the truth of Easter  – the More beyond the Mess - is with us still. Whispering from the depths of deep dawn. Tapping at the edges of our dreams like the birds that sing us into a new day.. Inviting us beyond what we see here and now - calling us into Beloved Community. 

Easter invites us to imagine a world grounded in the truth of love in the midst of hate; hope in the midst of terror; triumph that moves beyond tragedy; and the impossibility of life from death. 

It may be just the story our Messy world needs. 

NOTES: 

[1] With gratitude to Robert Williamson, Jr. for the translation of “deep dawn.”