March 27, 2016
During Holy Week, we spend a lot
of time recounting the story of Jesus, especially as it pertains to the last
days of his life.
But on the night of the Easter
Vigil, the story we tell stretches back to the dawn of creation and fast-
forwards through to the resurrection and beyond.
I say "beyond," because
it is no longer a static story of what took place in the past.
All of us stand at the entrance of
the tomb this very evening, like the three women and Peter, trying to make
sense of what we see.
Some of us stand here for the
first time as those newly embracing the faith, peering into a surprisingly
empty place and saying, "Dare I, even now, believe this news?"
Some are new only to this
community of the church, and stare into the unknowable commitment they have
made and wonder, "What will I find here when the morning comes?"
For most of us, who have stood
here again and again over many years, the darkness of the cave may hold less
terror, but no less wonder.
After all these years, the tomb is
still full of unanswered questions, hair-raising doubts, and mystery.
What will we find when we come
looking for Jesus this time?
Imagine what each of the
characters of the gospel story found.
Mary Magdalene had known Jesus,
first as the man who freed her from her demons, and later as her Lord and
friend.
When she went with her friends
carrying spices to the tomb at dawn, she hoped only to return a favor to one
whom she loved.
But she got more than she ever
bargained for.
She got an empty tomb.
She got angels in dazzling robes.
She got a gospel of resurrection
and a commission to proclaim it!
Joanna had made an investment in
the ministry of Jesus.
Literally an investment:
she was one of the women whose
resources funded the out-of-pocket expenses of Jesus and his mission ( see Luke
8: 1-3)
She was the wife of King Herod's
steward, and as such an unlikely candidate for discipleship.
One must wonder what it did for
her marriage to be a known supporter of a rival king.
Joanna made her choices, and they
brought her all the way to the empty tomb.
Her husband may have banked his
future on Herod's court, but she was speculating in another kind of kingdom,
and her stock was about to go sky high.
Mary, the mother of James, is not
to be confused with Mrs. Zebedee, the mother of two disciples, James and John.
More likely she is the mother of
James, son of Alphaeus ( see Luke 6: 12-16) , who is later known by the rather
humble name James the Lesser.
Though her son will one day be the
leader of the Jerusalem community, at the moment he is cowering in an upper
room in town with the rest of the Twelve.
No matter.
She has made the choice to take
the risk and be here, where the action is, where unsuspecting new life has just
emerged from death.
As a mother,
she understands that no life is delivered without pain and sacrifice; —but life
from crucifixion?
A birth of unimaginable hope!
Peter brings up the rear, maybe
no less incredulous than the others when they hear the women's testimony, but
at least willing to seek verification of their story.
He's late to the party, sees no
angels, hears no pronouncements.
But he sees the tomb, the stone,
the cloths, and the kernel of faith is planted through his efforts.
We all come to the tomb tonight,
the sinners, the investors, the life bearers, the latecomers.
Each of us arrives with a dream
and comes away with more than our
wildest hopes.
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