A "No Surprises" Easter
Stories
Lectionary Tales for the Pulpit
Series VI, Cycle B
Object:
Why do so many millions gather for worship on Easter morning? No doubt there are millions of answers to that question, but I suspect that one of the appeals of an Easter day is that the story is so consistent and has been from the beginning. The last thing we would expect as we listen to the gospel lesson for the day would be ...
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. With great fear and trembling she looked inside and there saw the body of Jesus as it had been prepared prior to the sabbath. Her eyes filled with tears, she took the spices she had brought for anointing, laid them about the body, then returned to the disciples to inform them and ask that the stone be rolled again in front of the tomb. With great sadness, they returned to the garden, replaced the stone, then each returned to his own home.
"The word of the Lord ... Thanks be to God." Ha! Are you kidding me? No, that is not what we have come to hear. No surprises! The old story of the resurrection with the women coming to the tomb, finding the stone rolled away, and angels sitting inside beside where the body used to be, saying "Surprise" ... that is what we want. Even for those who never show up except at Christmas or Easter, who think the only decorations the church has are poinsettias and Easter lilies, and think the only music the church knows is "Joy To The World" and "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today," that is the story they have come to hear as well.
All the resurrection texts are reassuringly familiar. There are some differences in detail between them but that is to be expected. In fact, if all were exactly alike, we might suspect some collusion between the writers to "get the story straight."
All the gospels do agree that Mary Magdalene was among the first to visit the abandoned grave. Arriving at the tomb before dawn, her mind is fogged by her grief and despair. Seeing the great stone rolled away and the tomb empty further intensifies her anguish and sends her running for help from her friends. "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!" (v. 2).
We have heard this story often enough so that it truly does not surprise us, but try to put yourself in her place. Your friend has died. You watched it. The body was taken to the funeral home for preparation prior to the service. You return prior to the public viewing, are greeted by the funeral director who stammers, "Uh, I don't know how to say this, but we have a problem. Come with me." He takes you back to the embalming room, points to the casket and, instead of your friend lying there, all you see is the suit in which he was to be buried, lying limp like a glove that has just been removed, with the Bible that was to be placed in his hands sitting on top. The body is gone. What would you think?
Simon Peter and the unnamed "Beloved Disciple" (whom tradition has presumed to be John) race to the tomb. There are the grave clothes and, off to the side, the linen head shroud, carefully folded up. What grave robbers would have bothered to do that? They are at a loss to explain anything but, as the text has it, "John" saw and believed. But then we read, "They still did not understand from scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead" (v. 9). So they went back home.
Mary stayed behind. She was crying. Through her tears she sees the angels. She hears them ask why the tears and responds, "They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where they have put him" (v. 13). She turns around, encounters Jesus, but does not recognize him.
An aside here. Have you ever wondered what Jesus was wearing? I mean, after all, his grave clothes are there in the tomb. Did he find an extra pair of coveralls in the gardener's toolshed over by the rakes and the lawn tractor, or what? Don't worry about it now -- you can ponder it over dinner.
Jesus asks the same question as had the angels: "Why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?"
Maybe it was those coveralls that made her mistake him for the gardener. She said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him" (v. 15). Then comes the moment of recognition. He simply says her name -- "Mary." Surprise! And the rest, as they say, is history. Or at least the history of our faith.
That Mary wanted to hold on to him is not unusual. We always cling to the familiar, especially in upsetting circumstances. But Mary had work to do, a mission to pursue. She would become the world's first witness to the resurrection, that death, what the apostle Paul would call "the last enemy," had been defeated. Good news indeed.
It is a story we have heard over and over and over again. It is not surprising anymore, but for me (and I suspect millions of others) there is great comfort in that. Several years ago, The Saturday Evening Post ran a cartoon showing a man about to be rescued after he had spent a long time shipwrecked on a tiny deserted island. The sailor in charge of the rescue team stepped onto the beach and handed the man a stack of newspapers. "Compliments of the captain," the sailor said. "He would like you to glance at the headlines to see if you'd still like to be rescued!"1
Sometimes life does scare us. Sometimes we feel that the world is out of joint, that those in charge have no clue how to fix things, that evil is winning. But then along comes Easter, the "no surprises" Easter, to remind us that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, our God is still in charge.
In the early 1970s, a certain theological seminary held a conference on the future. Alvin Toffler's book, Future Shock, was all the rage, and an impressive group of scholars was assembled to "do futuring." They gave well-documented addresses, speculating about the sweeping changes moving toward us in education, economics, community life, and technology. They envisioned the future and described it in dazzling detail. The closing address was given by the president of the seminary, who said in essence, "I am only a theologian, and I have no idea what shape the future will take. The only thing I do know is that the future will belong to a merciful God." Years later, when this seminary president retired, he was cleaning out his office and ran across the files from the conference. He reread the papers, reviewing now with hindsight all of the brave predictions of the future. "You know," he said, "I was the only one who was right!"
Have a happy "no surprises" Easter.
____________
1. J. W. Moore, "Some Things Are Too Good Not To Be True," Dimensions, 1994, p. 80.
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the entrance. With great fear and trembling she looked inside and there saw the body of Jesus as it had been prepared prior to the sabbath. Her eyes filled with tears, she took the spices she had brought for anointing, laid them about the body, then returned to the disciples to inform them and ask that the stone be rolled again in front of the tomb. With great sadness, they returned to the garden, replaced the stone, then each returned to his own home.
"The word of the Lord ... Thanks be to God." Ha! Are you kidding me? No, that is not what we have come to hear. No surprises! The old story of the resurrection with the women coming to the tomb, finding the stone rolled away, and angels sitting inside beside where the body used to be, saying "Surprise" ... that is what we want. Even for those who never show up except at Christmas or Easter, who think the only decorations the church has are poinsettias and Easter lilies, and think the only music the church knows is "Joy To The World" and "Jesus Christ Is Risen Today," that is the story they have come to hear as well.
All the resurrection texts are reassuringly familiar. There are some differences in detail between them but that is to be expected. In fact, if all were exactly alike, we might suspect some collusion between the writers to "get the story straight."
All the gospels do agree that Mary Magdalene was among the first to visit the abandoned grave. Arriving at the tomb before dawn, her mind is fogged by her grief and despair. Seeing the great stone rolled away and the tomb empty further intensifies her anguish and sends her running for help from her friends. "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don't know where they have put him!" (v. 2).
We have heard this story often enough so that it truly does not surprise us, but try to put yourself in her place. Your friend has died. You watched it. The body was taken to the funeral home for preparation prior to the service. You return prior to the public viewing, are greeted by the funeral director who stammers, "Uh, I don't know how to say this, but we have a problem. Come with me." He takes you back to the embalming room, points to the casket and, instead of your friend lying there, all you see is the suit in which he was to be buried, lying limp like a glove that has just been removed, with the Bible that was to be placed in his hands sitting on top. The body is gone. What would you think?
Simon Peter and the unnamed "Beloved Disciple" (whom tradition has presumed to be John) race to the tomb. There are the grave clothes and, off to the side, the linen head shroud, carefully folded up. What grave robbers would have bothered to do that? They are at a loss to explain anything but, as the text has it, "John" saw and believed. But then we read, "They still did not understand from scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead" (v. 9). So they went back home.
Mary stayed behind. She was crying. Through her tears she sees the angels. She hears them ask why the tears and responds, "They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where they have put him" (v. 13). She turns around, encounters Jesus, but does not recognize him.
An aside here. Have you ever wondered what Jesus was wearing? I mean, after all, his grave clothes are there in the tomb. Did he find an extra pair of coveralls in the gardener's toolshed over by the rakes and the lawn tractor, or what? Don't worry about it now -- you can ponder it over dinner.
Jesus asks the same question as had the angels: "Why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?"
Maybe it was those coveralls that made her mistake him for the gardener. She said, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him" (v. 15). Then comes the moment of recognition. He simply says her name -- "Mary." Surprise! And the rest, as they say, is history. Or at least the history of our faith.
That Mary wanted to hold on to him is not unusual. We always cling to the familiar, especially in upsetting circumstances. But Mary had work to do, a mission to pursue. She would become the world's first witness to the resurrection, that death, what the apostle Paul would call "the last enemy," had been defeated. Good news indeed.
It is a story we have heard over and over and over again. It is not surprising anymore, but for me (and I suspect millions of others) there is great comfort in that. Several years ago, The Saturday Evening Post ran a cartoon showing a man about to be rescued after he had spent a long time shipwrecked on a tiny deserted island. The sailor in charge of the rescue team stepped onto the beach and handed the man a stack of newspapers. "Compliments of the captain," the sailor said. "He would like you to glance at the headlines to see if you'd still like to be rescued!"1
Sometimes life does scare us. Sometimes we feel that the world is out of joint, that those in charge have no clue how to fix things, that evil is winning. But then along comes Easter, the "no surprises" Easter, to remind us that, despite all the evidence to the contrary, our God is still in charge.
In the early 1970s, a certain theological seminary held a conference on the future. Alvin Toffler's book, Future Shock, was all the rage, and an impressive group of scholars was assembled to "do futuring." They gave well-documented addresses, speculating about the sweeping changes moving toward us in education, economics, community life, and technology. They envisioned the future and described it in dazzling detail. The closing address was given by the president of the seminary, who said in essence, "I am only a theologian, and I have no idea what shape the future will take. The only thing I do know is that the future will belong to a merciful God." Years later, when this seminary president retired, he was cleaning out his office and ran across the files from the conference. He reread the papers, reviewing now with hindsight all of the brave predictions of the future. "You know," he said, "I was the only one who was right!"
Have a happy "no surprises" Easter.
____________
1. J. W. Moore, "Some Things Are Too Good Not To Be True," Dimensions, 1994, p. 80.
