Day of the Church Year: Easter Sunday
Gospel Passage: Mark 16:1-8
The stillness of this pandemic year, live streaming worship in the sanctuary with only a few people, Hope Hall largely empty, hours spent on the phone, on zoom, emailing, and texting instead of hours spent eye to eye at hospital bedsides, at the table in my office, in your homes, around tables in Hope Hall, or gathered for worship, the stillness of this pandemic year reminds me of the stillness of that first Easter morning. When the sabbath is over, the disciples still fearfully locked in the upper room, the women go to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body with spices. What they know is that Jesus is dead. Two thousand years later, we may struggle to remember their perspective, that on Easter morning when they awoke, their friend and teacher was dead. Suddenly, violently, unjustly dead. A good man, a faithful Jewish man, one who welcomed and embraced people with great generosity of spirit. Dead. If what happened was only that a good man suddenly, violently, unjustly died in a Roman occupied Israel, people would have not proclaimed the good news of God’s saving love, no matter Jesus’ death, no matter Jesus’ preaching and teaching, no matter Jesus’ miracles and great love. If what happened was only that a good man suddenly, violently, unjustly died in a Roman occupied Israel, most people would have shrugged their shoulders and moved on. The disciples would have feared for their lives but eventually gone back to fishing and tax collecting. The women would have mourned him and then returned to their families. That’s it. And when the women come to the tomb on Easter morning, that’s all they know. Still, they come.
They come wondering who will roll away the stone from the entrance to the tomb. They come with spices. They come even though it is dangerous. They come not expecting a miracle, only a dead body. They come expecting to honor and care for their friend and teacher. This Easter, I am amazed by the women, their hope, their resilience, their courage, their steadfast love. How easy it is to lock ourselves away, to avoid what is hard, to succumb to fear and lethargy. They do not. Instead, they practice resurrection. Knowing only that Jesus is dead, they act with hope and courage, hope because anointing will make no difference at this point, courage because showing up at the tomb of a convicted criminal puts them at risk. Only they will know that they’ve honored Jesus, but that is what they want.
This Easter, the women, with their practice of resurrection, inspire me.
How do you practice resurrection? What acts of hope and courage do you perform? I invite you to think about it as I share how I do. To practice resurrection for me means signing up for volunteer shifts at vaccination sites, taking part in the work that will bring stability and safety to the world. It means for me keeping on with what I believe is important, even when I don’t do it well, trying and making mistakes, learning and growing. To practice resurrection means for me not giving up on people, not giving up on anyone, seeing people’s beauty and gifts and just them, you, you precious, beloved children of God. Our question of the day is: How do you practice resurrection? What acts of hope and courage do you perform? To read the community’s reflections, go to the Facebook live stream worship for April 4, 2021.
In a world bowed down by suffering and injustice of many kinds, will we act with hope and courage and perhaps a bit of foolishness? Loving and serving and showing up for people is what Christ’s resurrection looks like here and now. Working for justice, seeking peace, building loving community is what Christ’s resurrection looks like here and now. Here we are this morning, driven to worship God, to serve others, to show up for our community, despite all the other things we could be doing today. Though the Easter message of Christ’s resurrection may seem an irrational intellectual exercise, the resurrection of Christ is neither fanciful nor ephemeral.
On that Easter morning, when the women come to anoint his body, Jesus is nowhere to be found. The young man dressed in white tells them that Jesus is raised, that the disciples can find him in Galilee, the place where it all began. The gospel of Mark tells us that the women are seized by terror and amazement such that they flee from the tomb and tell no one anything. And that’s where Mark’s gospel ends. But Christ’s resurrection had already changed the world for the women come to the tomb despite its senselessness, and fifty days later, the Holy Spirit will be poured out on all in Jerusalem to form the church. Christ is risen on Easter morning, and Christ is risen among us. We practice resurrection with hope and courage because, truly, Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! Alleluia! Amen.