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!

            

Expect the Unexpected

John 12:1-8

“Expect the unexpected” –that statement might serve us well as a motto for life. Expect the unexpected. But just what does it mean? It’s an oxymoron, isn’t it? Totally contradictory. Because, if you expect something, then by definition, how can it be “unexpected?”

Yet we all know about unexpected things – the chance encounter, the fateful phone call, the serendipity. Some unexpected things are good, some wonderful, some challenging, some downright breathtakingly difficult. Expect the unexpected? How can we do that? For some of us, to live our lives expecting the unexpected might lead to a kind of paralysis – to shutting down all the possibilities of life because of the risks truly living, expecting the unexpected, implies.

And yet it was those words – expect the unexpected – that came to me this week while I was reading this gospel. The words seemed familiar, but I really wondered if I had just made them up, because they also sounded so ridiculous: expect the unexpected?

So, I did what everyone does when they want to know more about something. I “Googled” it. As I typed ‘expect the unexpected” into the Google search engine, just a few hits turned up.

I learned that there really is a definition for the phrase “expect the unexpected.” It’s in the online dictionary connected to that other trusted online source of all information - Wikipedia. According to Wiktionary, to “expect the unexpected means “To not be surprised by an unusual event. Anything could happen, and probably will.” Sounds kind of like another of Murphy’s Laws, doesn’t it?

So, this is what I learned from my computer search: this expression has been around awhile – thousands of years, in fact. Back in about the 5^th century BC the Greek philosopher Heraclitus said, “If you do not expect the unexpected, you will not find it, for it is not reached by search or trail.” Truthfully, that makes about as much sense to me as just about anything written by an ancient Greek philosopher.

 But in the last century or so, Oscar Wilde, the late Irish playwright, novelist and poet, quoted this phrase and then tried to qualify it: “To expect the unexpected shows a thoroughly modern intellect.”

Serendipity, chance meetings and love at first sight aside, to expect the unexpected for many of us has come to mean being prepared for the next bit of bad news, to remain alert for signs of oncoming calamity, and perhaps, to be suspicious of the people around us, because we know that we’ve been burned by being unaware or unsuspecting so many times before.

What kinds of unexpected things can catch us unaware?

A child lost too soon, a scary diagnosis or medical outcome; the betrayal of a friend; an accidental injury; the sudden loss of a loved one; the divorce of a child or neighbor; the results of an election; natural disasters.

Sometimes the unexpected thing is the realization that we have been wrong, we have injured others, we have failed to be the people God intends us to be. Even our own conflicted feelings, motivations, and actions can surprise us at times, when we realize through self-examination how immune from sin we are not.

When we read the scriptures, both Old Testament and New, we see how often God has worked in unexpected, and surprising; and through unexpected and surprising people. People like us. People who were flawed and vulnerable. Truth be told, God almost always behaves in ways that are unexpected by the tunnel-vision of the world.

Could the Israelites have ever expected they would be freed from Egypt or that the means of their liberation would be God working through an imperfect prophet named Moses, a series of plagues and a passing angel? Could they ever have expected the Red Sea to part, and only for them; or to be fed by manna which fell from the skies and water that poured out from a rock?

Could barren old women and teenage virgins ever expect to not only bear children, but ones who are sent by God as prophets, kings, and even the Savior of the world? Could the prophets and patriarchs have ever imagined or expected the effect they would have on world history?

Could a devout Pharisee named Saul, the persecutor of a fledgling church of Jesus followers ever have expected that God would not only strike him blind but then restore sight to him, and give him a new vision of the divinity of Jesus Christ; or that his letters would serve the faith of followers of Christ for generations?

Today’s gospel narrative is full of unexpected things too; in fact, most of the actions, and images and scenes depicted here are things which would be unexpected and even shocking at the time.

Unexpected happenings begin earlier in the Gospel of John and are often given the name “signs and wonders” – things like Jesus raising the dead to life, Jesus loving tax collectors and sinners, changing water into wine, and healing, forgiving and transforming the lives of the hopeless.

Not long before the dinner scene from our gospel took place, Jesus does one of those things by raising Lazarus, Jesus’ friend who had been dead for days and was already sealed in a tomb. Not only did Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, but we are reminded of his restoration as the gospel writer states twice in today’s gospel that not only is Lazarus alive, but he is present in the house that day, gathered together with Jesus and other his friends and at that he even sits at the table – the most unexpected of guests.

If we were following clues to a story, here is clue number one found in the unexpected details in this story – Lazarus, the formerly dead friend is present that day. What do you do about the religious prohibitions regarding contact with the dead when an undead one sits at your table?

Then there is this whole business of Mary, her perfumed oil, and her hair. Clue number two – you wouldn’t anoint a person’s feet unless they were dead. You might anoint a person’s head, but then only if he was a king or priest.

Further, anointing was a mainly socio-political action, performed man – to – man. Women had no part in anointing unless it was in attendance of a dead person’s body. Yet Mary turns this anointing of Jesus into something prophetic, intimate, holy, and wholly unexpected.

Clues three and four also involve Mary; the perfume she used so lavishly was expensive; her actions interpreted as both extravagant and wasteful. Conspicuous consumption by ordinary people was unheard of in that time. Then Mary wiped Jesus’ feet with her hair. Women did not unbind their hair except for a husband. This was an intimate act, done in public, no less. Mary’s is an act of unexpected, reckless beauty, preparing Jesus not for burial but for the walk to his death on the cross.

Five – Jesus is the guest of honor at this dinner, where the expected tone of conversation would be polite and respectful, honoring the gift of the host. Yet Jesus speaks of his death and then argues with one of his disciples at the table.

Number six – one of Jesus’ disciples, Judas would never be expected to raise the stink he does, as a guest at this dinner, as the disciple of this man, nor as one who needs to lie low, since we know, as Jesus himself knows, of his nefarious plans.

As Jesus reclined at the table that day, unexpected things were occurring all around, things his disciples probably reflected on long after his death. In the days ahead, the fragrance of the oil will linger with Mary, and she will likely be reminded of all the places those precious feet had been, and their being pierced in the end. She will likely remember all Jesus had done, and the love he had shared with his friends, his followers, and those he met along his path.

We are reminded through the gospels, through the story of this dinner party, and through the witness of our own lives, that in God we should expect the unexpected. In Jesus, unexpected things abound with, for and through unlikely people and events.

David Lose writes, “people expected the messiah to look like King David; what they got instead was a former carpenter and itinerant preacher. The crowds who welcome Jesus a few verses after these expected Jesus to throw out the Romans; instead he is crucified by them. Even his followers expect his crucifixion to be the end of the story; it turns out to be just the beginning.”

As we near the end of this journey of Lent, expect the unexpected. Through Jesus God does the most unexpected thing of all. In Jesus, sinners receive the unexpected goodness, eternal love and boundless mercy of God. In Jesus, God is bringing us new life not only through the forgiveness of sin but also the invitation to follow, accompany, and serve the mission of God in the world.

Jesus heals through spit and mud and touch and profound acceptance and love. The blind see, the lame walk, and sinners are transformed into saints for the good of the kingdom of God.

The same God who gave Israel kings, and prophets, restored exiled people to life, loves us into an unexpected kind of existence. Here, in the name of Jesus we stand, and embrace the loving and unexpected grace of God toward all people. We are reminded of the pathways of love that bind us to Jesus Christ through our baptism, and to one another as Jesus declared his liberating presence for all people. Through pathways of love as unexpected as a woman sitting on the floor at the feet of her Lord anointing his feet, God calls us all to the table where we are transformed as unexpected blessing for the sake of the kingdom of God.  

What kinds of unexpected things is God doing in your life? In the world? In answers to prayer, spoken aloud and in the silence of sleepless nights? What unexpected places is God showing up today? How is God unexpectedly calling you and me into the richness of kingdom life and service, through the breathless washing and wiping of tears, the cleansing of sin?

Whom might God work through in unexpected ways next? In what way might God be working unexpectedly through you?

As we reflect on the meal in a house in Bethany, we are called to expect the unexpected and in Jesus we are commissioned to perform works of mercy and love in the name of Christ – things like making quilts for refugees, providing food for the hungry, going out and sharing the story of the unexpected and pleasing surprises you have discovered as a child of God.

Heraclitus was right – we do not discover the unexpected through searching for it, it is already here, surprising us, and warming us; it has already claimed us in the name of Jesus Christ, most unexpected gift of all.