Tah Dah! The Great Easter Surprise

Matthew 28:1-10

Christ is risen, Alleluia!

He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

A well-known and often ignored piece of advice to pastors regarding children’s sermons is, “don’t ask questions.” You never know what you’ll get – you know the adage, “Children say the darnedest things?” Of course, there is also the saying that Jesus himself quoted, “Out of the mouths of infants and babes….”

Well, there is a pastor who asked this question in an Easter Sunday children’s sermon a few years ago: ‘What were Jesus’ first words to his disciples after he was raised from the dead?’ To be honest, he didn’t expect an answer. It was sort of a rhetorical question; but before he could give the answer from Gospel of this morning –a little girl waved her hand eagerly, excited to answer the question, so the pastor called on her. “I know what Jesus said,” she answered; “Tah dah!”

Well, today we do indeed celebrate the great “Tah dah!” of the church, for—

Christ has risen! Alleluia! He has risen indeed! Alleluia!

You know, what it is lacking in dignity, “Tah dah!” more than makes up in accuracy, as a reasonable response when presented with the wonderfully surprising, unprecedented, and miraculous resurrection of Jesus.

Tah dah!

This Easter Sunday, we celebrate with great joy the wonderful surprise of that day when Jesus was raised from death to life.

While the real first word the Risen Lord Jesus spoke was in fact a very ordinary greeting – in this extraordinary moment, “Tah dah!” would have seemed about right.

Imagine that you are one of the women who approached the tomb of Jesus that morning. The sabbath is over, so for those in and around Jerusalem that day, it was a regular workday.

The shopkeepers and merchants, the innkeepers and even the government officials and temple caretakeres were cleaning up and recovering from the Passover festival of the week before, even as the great multitude of visitors who had come to Jerusalem for the Passover departed to return to their homes.

It was back to business for many in Jerusalem that day.

It was not, however, business as usual for Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, mourning the death of Jesus. For them and for the other disciples, still reeling from the events of the week before, experiencing a communal sense of loss and failure, grief and shame, there was nothing ordinary about this day.

For these women, a visit to the tomb seemed in order.

It’s the same place where they had sat and watched as the dead body of Jesus was wrapped in linen and lain to rest just a couple of evenings ago. Aside from perhaps anointing the body, the women may simply have wanted to spend time where he rested—they  felt closer to him there.

You may have experienced the same kind of need, following loss.

Cemeteries are full of granite markers placed for our loved ones who have died, a place where we can go and remember them. Some of us have, in our home or in another special spot a place where we can go to remember and feel close to those we have lost.

But as the women approach the tomb, perhaps hoping to experience something of the essence of Jesus but expecting to experience nothing more than grief that day, two extraordinary things happen. On that first Easter morning, just as on the afternoon Jesus died, there is an earthquake. An earthquake!

What must they have thought? Did they remember the way the earth shook as Jesus died on the cross?

Then they saw an angel of the Lord descending from heaven, rolling back the stone from the entrance to the tomb, and they heard him speaking to them, saying, “Do not be afraid.”

These women, who perhaps had lost all hope, who are deep in mourning, who are the only two disciples brave enough to leave the upper room where the rest of the disciples were hiding out on this day, suddenly see an angel whose appearance is like blazing, blinding, white-hot lightening, from whom they are suddenly given words of hope, comfort, and reassurance. “Do not be afraid.”

Jesus is not here, the angel says, he has been raised from the dead just as he had promised he would be. Look in the tomb. See for yourselves.

So, the women take a look, and then, perhaps another, because indeed, “tah dah!” Jesus is not there. His body is gone. The tomb is empty.

The stone was rolled away not to let Jesus out but to let the women in; to let the women in so that they could see and witness for themselves the empty tomb.

Tah dah!

Jesus is risen! Alleluia! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Jesus has been raised from the dead, the angel tells them.

Jesus has risen from the dead just as he said he would be, just as God had planned, just as the Scriptures foretold it, because the truth is that neither death, nor hell, nor the tomb itself, can hold Jesus, the Son of God, the Messiah, who came to set his people free in the most astonishing, perfect way possible.

This is good news for us. For the fear and joy, the pain of illness, and broken relationships, the reality of our vulnerability and the frailty of life, the victorious resurrection of Jesus is nothing short of a life-giving, world-changing miracle.

The angel sends these women to be messengers themselves, carrying a holy “Tah dah!” for the disciples of Christ. “Quickly!” He says, “Quickly go!” Go tell the disciples this wonderful news. Tell the disciples that Jesus has been raised from the dead! Tell them that Jesus is still on earth and even now he’s on the way to Galilee where he will meet them!

So the women, with a mix of fear and joy, rush down the road to share this good news with the disciples.

They don’t understand what has happened and danger still surrounds them. But there is compelling good news to share, and the women can’t wait to share it.

Jesus has risen! Alleluia! He has risen indeed! Alleluia!

And then, Jesus meets the Marys. On the road. On the way.

“Tah dah!”

The women immediately know him and they throw themselves to the ground and they take hold of his feet and they worship him.

In the whole of our gospel today, I think this is my favorite verse. It is a “tah dah” moment, this moment of recognition, where Jesus appears to the women and well, what can they do but fall to the earth? What would we do?

And yet in that moment, Jesus’ response isn’t all that profound “Greetings!” he says.

The women are overcome with joy and wonder and awe and fear, and Jesus is so nonchalant, “Hi!” he greets them.

In their amazement, they have to touch him. They grab onto his feet. He has died, and yet here he is standing in front of them, and he is real! They can feel him!

Tah dah!

I know if I were one of those women, I wouldn’t ever want to let go. There, on the road, still holding onto him, they worship him. They acknowledge him as their Lord.

Jesus repeats the message of the angel – go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.

Jesus has risen! Alleluia! He has risen indeed! Alleluia!

The good news for us is in the details of the story. Jesus lives so that we will never die. Jesus lives so that we can live fully now and later. Jesus lives so that, though our lives contain both sadness and joy, guilt and shame, fear and wonder, we can be assured that Jesus is with us in and through it all.

This resurrection is ongoing, it is a daily reality, because Jesus is still defeating the powers of evil and death, still bringing us new life, and will bring us ultimately to life everlasting; knowing this makes all the difference in the world.  

We still meet God on the road, in miraculous and every day instances of goodness and joy, as comfort in our struggles, as healing and hope and forgiveness and steadfast love. God leads us constantly to new life through the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

Every time that we are up against a wall with no way out; or are suffering the betrayal of those we trusted; or confused about the ways of the world and the suffering we bear witness to, God shows us that these challenges, assaults and struggles are temporary. They will not defeat us. In every way that counts, Jesus is with us and in the power of the resurrection is holding us and making us strong.

            The mystery and power of the resurrection of Christ is the great Tah dah! of God’s compassion poured out for the world. In the mystical power of his love, we can be assured that whatever the future brings, God will strengthen us and empower us. Whatever fear, pain, or challenge we face, God promises that we will not face it alone.

Rather, God promises that there is nothing stronger than God’s love, and God proves it through the resurrection of Jesus Christ. For, since Christ has risen from the grave, nothing can keep us from God’s love and power to save.

            As Jesus met the women and as Jesus he will meet the disciples in Galilee, the risen Christ will meet us on all our journeys. The tomb is empty. Jesus reigns victorious over the grave. And so, it is with Easter joy and Easter confidence that we proclaim the great mystery of faith:       

Christ is Risen! Alleluia!  He is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

            

Jelly Beans, Tootsie Rolls, and Easter

Matthew 28:1-10 Easter Sunday

Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God the Father and our risen and victorious Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

          A friend of mine, also a pastor, relayed a conversation that she had with two three-year-old friends when she was visiting them just last week. Always the teacher, my friend thought spending some time looking through an illustrated children’s bible would offer the perfect opportunity to talk about Easter. So she began reading the resurrection story to the children. And, as children will, they listened carefully for a little while, and then began asking questions – you know, the way only children, especially three year olds, can do. The conversation went something like this:

"Why is Jesus wearing a dress?” “Do you think the Easter bunny will bring me purple jelly beans?"

My friend patiently answered “I am sure he will bring you jelly beans. But, remember, Easter isn't about the bunny. It's about Jesus.”

"But will they be purple?" her little friend persisted.

“Yes,” my friend responded. “I’m sure there will be some purple ones in there…but the important thing about Easter isn't the bunny or the candy…Easter is about how much Jesus loves you and me and the whole world.”

"Okay, but, HOW MANY purple jelly beans will the Easter Bunny bring?"

My friend tried to redirect them,“Girls, I think there will probably be plenty of purple jellybeans.” She looked at them, “But do you know how much Jesus loves you?”

“But …” they began.

“Yes?” 

“Will he bring me tootsie rolls, too?”

For three year olds, Easter bunnies, purple jelly beans and tootsie rolls are more than enough to make Easter a day of celebration, with or without Jesus. For adults, the details may be different, but the distractions still exist. Easter flowers, spectacular music and beautiful hymns, fancy dinners, and spiffy new clothes make today a day to celebrate. But, you do know, don’t you, how very much Jesus loves you? That there really is more to this day? 

Whether we are three, or thirty, or, well – older than that, our very being hungers this day to know and experience the Easter story that lies beyond jellybeans, tootsie rolls, pretty plants, lovely music and new Spring clothes. Like the two Marys in our gospel text today, like the other disciples, we have all experienced dark nights of the soul, moments of great disappointment and grief, fear, or confusion and despair, where we, too, want to know, need to know, that there’s more to this day than the little details that all add up to make Easter special. We want to know, need to know and experience the truth of the resurrection. We want to know, need to know, that even after the sweets are consumed, the flowers wilt, the last notes of the beautiful music we hear today fade, there is something more in this Easter for us. Something radically life-changing, something hope-producing, and joyful, bound together by the love of Jesus and the truth of this gospel. 

Sooner or later, my friend’s three year old buddies will experience these dark nights and dark days, and they will need more than bunnies and jellybeans. They will need to know what Easter is all about. Sooner or later, we all have that need, to know that our faith has not been in vain.

·         Perhaps it will be when they are bullied at school or work and feel all alone;

·         Or maybe it will happen when they are betrayed or harshly, unfairly judged by a so-called “friend” or their heart is broken by the one who pledges to be faithful until death;

·         It could happen on a day when they hear the report from the doctor, “it’s not just a cold after all”

·         Or perhaps when they’re feeding their beloved, aging mother, who no longer recognizes them.

·         Perhaps that dark day occurred for you when you came to grips with the addiction that torments you or when I acknowledged the many bridges I have burned and the pain I have caused, and I yearn for the forgiveness I fear never will come.

·         Perhaps it will be the day our best friend dies, or we come face to face with unspeakable evil or loss.

Whatever our story or circumstance, our need for this day is real and it is deep. Despite the reality of death all around us – the death of dreams, the death of relationships, and of course, physical death, it is because of this day that we dare not only to hope but to be joyful. It is because of Easter, and God’s radical resurrection redirection, that we can be confident in our present and our future, and know that both are bound together in Christ’s eternal presence and love.

Today is a day that is not simply about beautiful flowers, though we certainly love them; nor is it about the beautiful music, the trumpet fanfare and shouted alleluias, though we sure do appreciate them. It is not simply a day about bunnies and jellybeans and tootsie rolls. It is about how in the midst of a mighty earthquake, God rolled the stone from the tomb, and revealed the divine mystery – that in Christ, death and the grave are defeated. This day is about God surprising and astounding us in the resurrection of Jesus – the real bodily resurrection of our Savior. And on this Easter day, we acknowledge that while there is great joy and relief in the victory of our Lord, each one of us experiences this mystery of faith differently. Christ has died, Christ is risen and Christ will come again. These are not empty words, but words that contain in them the fullness of our faith. That God, who raised Christ from the dead is not done with us yet.

Today is a day that contains in it the dawn of a new reality. It is a reality that transcends time, reason and rationale. It shakes us up and it makes us new. It gives us hope and it asks of us our participation in this magnificent story. It begs us to share our faith. It commands us to pay attention.

Some of us see faith in brilliant white light like the shining light that reflected off the angel’s clothing at the tomb; for others faith is more subtle,  given to us at our baptism. Some of us have experienced radical, transformational moments of “born again” reality; for others Christ has been such a real and constant presence throughout our lives, that we can’t think of a moment when things changed and our faith became real. Christ has simply always been there. For some of us, believing is as unsettling as the earthquake that revealed the miraculously empty tomb; for others, it radiates with the reassuring warmth of the sun.

My friends, no matter which of these descriptions fits how faith in Christ has come to you, the truth is that Jesus’ resurrection makes all of us new! And for that reason, we are bid, like the Marys, to go and tell what God has done. The women’s lingering fear is overcome by their joy – they run! They run to tell the disciples this glorious good news of the resurrection! They run to tell the disciples of the empty tomb and the words of the angel. “Do not be afraid; He is not here; he has been raised from the dead.” 

Brothers and Sisters, our Easter surprise is that God, who has made all things new, who has brought life out of death, and hope out of despair, has great things in store for each and every one of us. Just as Christ’s presence in our lives looks different for each of us, so does this new life that comes to us through God’s grace.

New life sometimes looks like reconciliation between family members. Sometimes, new  life might look like me admitting that I’m wrong, or not mentioning that I’m right. New may look like helping our neighbors, even when we’re convinced that they’ve created their own disaster to begin with.

New life looks like every fresh start and every act of forgiveness, and sometimes new looks like people of faith letting go of past hurts, hang-ups, and conflict in order for a church to receive the resurrected life and mission our God is calling us to. New may look like unshakeable faith in the promise of resurrection, even as we watch loved ones die. Often, new is what we never see coming…the thing we didn’t even know to hope for, that ends up being exactly what we need.

New life happens to each of us, and is the reason we celebrate this day. Beyond the jelly beans and tootsie rolls, Easter is about God, in Jesus, coming near to us, reaching down into our everyday humanity and pulling us out of our graves, making us new, time and time again. The Good News of this day is that we are loved so much by God that God has swept us up into God’s own story of death and life, and life after death. We stand here as Easter people,  even as we shout, Alleluia! Christ is risen! Alleluia! And the people of God shout, Amen!

The Story We Know so Well

Christmas Eve, 2013

Luke 2:1-20

          A friend tells the story of a chauffeur who had driven a chemistry professor to dozens of speaking engagements. He’d heard the same canned speech scores of times. On the way to yet another engagement he said, "Professor, I believe I could give your speech myself; I’ve heard it so often." The professor said, "I’ll bet you $50 you can’t." "You’re on," said the chauffeur.

He stopped the car and the two exchanged clothes. They arrived at the banquet, the chauffeur dressed in a tuxedo. Sitting at the head of the table, he stood up and gave the speech verbatim. There was a standing ovation when he was finished.

The emcee got up and said, "You know, we are so fortunate to have such a fine resource with us tonight, since we have a little extra time, let’s have some questions and answers.” The first question was asked and the chauffeur stood there dumbfounded, clearing his throat in nervousness. Finally he said, "That’s just about the dumbest question I ever heard. In fact it is so dumb I bet even my chauffeur could answer that question."

The gospel we have just read is a story that most of us have probably heard scores of times as well. We even hear it in secular circles, - even Linus in the Charlie Brown’s Christmas movie tells this story of the Nativity. These days, it is often repeated not as a story of faith, but as a sweet sentimental tale incorporated into the myths of many peoples. And so, I wonder what is there that I can say to you tonight that would be any different from what you’ve already heard? After all, many of you have probably told this Nativity tale yourselves many times before. It’s probably pretty safe to say that any of you could probably swap places with me up here and tell this story of the Birth of the Christ Child. Well, I won’t ask you to do that, but I wonder if you’ll help me tell the story – just fill in the blanks, if you will.

The story takes place in (Bethlehem). There was a man named (­Joseph) who had traveled there with his betrothed, (Mary) who was great with child.

We know “great with child” means that Mary was really, really pregnant! As luck would have it, with no room in the inn, tired and hungry as they were, the couple accepted the only place offered to them, where they might rest. Instead of a nice, comfy, clean room in a house or inn in downtown Bethlehem, Joseph and Mary ended up staying in a (stable). And as the timing of any birth tends to be unpredictable, often coming at the very worst, or least convenient of times, as Mary and Joseph are staying there in the stable, the baby (Jesus) is born, wrapped in strips of cloth, and laid in a (manger).

Before long, the new family had company. From the fields came the (shepherds), who had been nearly blinded by the brightness of the glory of an (angel) who had appeared to them in the field. This angel of the Lord announced to them the wonder of the birth of this special child, the Savior, the Messiah. So off went to visit the baby, (Jesus) in the (manger) at (Bethlehem).

I appreciate all the help you’ve given me in the telling of the story. But I wonder, in the telling of it, if we don’t sometimes gloss over the blemishes in the scene. I wonder if we don’t romanticize the details, to make it into what we want it to look like; to make it into what we want it to be. It’s not our fault, really; the story has inspired thousands of drawings, paintings, and sculptures. The scene has been depicted in cards, movies, cartoons, and books. It has been written of in hymns and Christmas carols, sacred and secular songs. Take our crèche here for instance. It’s beautiful! Like most nativity scenes, the characters are clean, neatly dressed, and really quite lovely, sweet and serene. The images imprinted on our minds about this story are probably pretty consistent with the characters as they appear here.

Not long ago, I was shopping in a gift shop, looking for some last minute Christmas gifts, and I came upon the selection of nativity sets for sale. They came in all shapes and sizes. Some were very traditional, others quite contemporary; the nativity sets were from various cultures, and some showed characters with dark, even very black skin. Most, of course, like the ones we find in the majority of stores and catalogs in the Western world, revealed fair skinned characters, and one even displayed a curly blonde-haired blue-eyed baby Jesus.

The truth of the matter is that we love the story of the birth of Jesus, and we tend to make this story, and God, into an image that is comfortable, an image that is like us, when we are at our best, or what we imagine our best to be. We tell the sweet story of the journey this teenage girl, Mary, and her betrothed, Joseph, make into Bethlehem. We’re tempted to ignore their weariness and exhaustion after such a long trip, a trip made mandatory by the oppressive occupying government of their region, and their discouragement when they found “no vacancy” on the tongues of every innkeeper in town.

We overlook the terror that must have seized this innocent young girl, with the first pangs of the labor that would bring her babe into the world; realizing that she would have to birth this child not in the presence and with the help and skill of a midwife or even of the women of her village, with wisdom and knowledge they would share with her, but alone, in this unlikely place, among strangers, with only Joseph to tend her.

We ignore the reality that this child, the Son of God, was born in a mixture of fear and hope, not into a sweet smelling manger of our imaginings, surrounded by the docile, cuddly, freshly scrubbed cattle and sheep of our nativity scenes, but in the dim interior light of a dusty, dank, rustic barn where real animals lived!

And while Mary lay recovering from this birth, preparing to travel again with a newborn infant in tow, the shepherds come a-calling. Shepherds, men who lived in the fields with their sheep, who were themselves considered pretty lowly characters – are their first visitors. 

Now, I’m not trying to steal your Christmas magic. We should cherish Christmas! And I’m not saying that it’s wrong to embrace the story, to pull out those nativities and decorations, even if they include the hopelessly idealistic crèche scenes like the one I have in my own home.

Come as we have tonight, to this Christmas Eve, it’s our tendency to air-brush the blemishes of this story, freshen the air with sweet lullabies and carry on with our holiday.

But let’s not miss the real good news for us this night; the good news that God breaks through the fairy-tale nativity, and gives us Jesus. God breaks through the sin and the grime of the real world and presents us with a miracle - the incarnation of God-with-us, Jesus Christ. God bursts into our fear and sadness, our pain, our failures, our defeat, and the regret that makes us yearn for the fairy-tale and redeems us through the real deal – the birth of our Savior.

The real miracle of Christmas – is that God has chosen to dwell not with the rich or powerful, not with the air-brushed or perfect, and not with the high or mighty. God has chosen to dwell with the lowly, the unexpected, and the broken. God lifts up those who are powerless, and those who find themselves in over their heads and aren’t quite sure how their story will end. God has chosen to enter into the very real, dirty, sinful, scared, confused, chaotic, diverse, and sometimes – let’s face it – often, messy world.  And here, amid the weakness and vulnerability of human birth, God makes God's intentions for humanity fully known. God is love, love made manifest, as God takes human form.

God works in and through a young, innocent woman and grubby shepherds; God also works in and through us. God takes the weak and voiceless and places them right smack dab in the middle of the story of our salvation; God takes the despised of the world and raiss them up for God’s own good purpose. God doesn’t just break into the world, God transforms it, from a place of darkness and despair to a place of healing and hope. God doesn’t erase our blemishes, God uses them. The same God who created the world and everything in it, who loves the whole creation, who blesses and fills the earth, is the same God who overcomes death and the grave through the life, death, and resurrection of the Christ.  

          So tonight, let us sing our sweet Christmas carols. May our “Glorias” fill the air. May we gaze upon this crèche and know deep in our hearts the story it portrays is our story too. May we remember that as God lifted up the lowly and made their own songs glad with the wonders God wrought for them, God lifts us up through the gift in the manger, transforming us through God’s abundant love that makes everything new.

May you know the love made manifest in the Christ Child.  Let us sing, then, of God’s redeeming love until all know that “unto you is born this day the Savior, Jesus Christ the Lord!”

Blessed, Merry Christmas!