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Easter C            April 20, 2025           Luke 24:1-11

(I skipped verse 12 of our assigned gospel reading because most authorities believe it was added later to bring some closure to the abrupt way Luke originally wrote it. As you will note in my sermon, I think by ending with Luke's skepticism and doubt are a valid way for us to respond to the good news of the resurrection of our Lord.)

 

The story of that first Easter begins at dawn, in near darkness, as women labor with spices and ointments in baskets to a tomb where Jesus was buried. This is always how the discovery of the risen Christ begins … in near darkness, at early dawn. And I would be remiss if I didn’t remind you that the path we travel in life is likewise in near darkness at early dawn. It is often hard to see where we are going. It can be filled with fear and foreboding. The future looks confusing. And the reason it looks confusing is because, like those women, we expect to find death at the end of our journey. And this is where the story of Easter begins and takes us by surprise.

 

The fact is that no one is ever ready for Easter. No one is ready because the last thing – the very last thing – we expect is to discover that the tomb is empty. You see, this day is not about bunnies or springtime or Easter egg hunts. It is about blinding light in the midst of darkness and more hope than we can handle. It is about how God changes everything after everything has already changed so miserably for the worse.

 

I find it interesting that no one on that first Easter greeted the news that God raised Jesus from the dead with shouts of glory and praise. No one, upon hearing that death itself couldn’t hold Jesus in its grasp, responds with, “I knew it! I knew it was going to be just like this.”

 

Take the women who are the first to see the empty tomb. They make their early morning trip with absolutely no expectation that Jesus has been raised. It is only after two strangers dressed in dazzling white reminds them of what Jesus had promised that they recall his words and put the pieces of this puzzle together.

 

And, of course, once they realize what has actually happened, they run back to tell the rest of the disciples who greet their story with complete skepticism. As a matter of fact Luke says that the disciples regarded their news as an “idle tale.” Which is actually a very generous translation of the Greek word, “leros.” It is the root word from which we derive the English word “delirious.” So, more accurately, the disciples thought that what the women were telling them was utterly crazy … complete nonsense … absolutely unbelievable.

 

And really, who can blame them? I mean, resurrection isn’t simply a claim that Jesus’ body was resuscitated … like he was slipped some kind of ancient Eastern potion that made him appear to be dead and then, once off of the cross, was slipped an antidote to bring him around again. No, this claim of resurrection is a claim that God has entered the stage of human history in Jesus to create an entirely new reality.

 

And that should be frightening. That should scare the bijesus out of us. Because, you see, if the dead don’t stay dead, what can we count on and what else is up for grabs? Seen this way, resurrection breaks all the rules. And while most of us will admit that the old rules aren’t perfect – and sometimes downright awful – at least we know what they are and how to maneuver through them. And resurrection upsets all of that.

 

The possibility of the resurrection, basically, ought to throw us off balance – it ought to upset our apple cart – and generally turn our neat and orderly lives upside down. It ought to make us uncomfortable. Which is why I think that if we don’t find Easter at least a little hard to believe, we probably aren’t taking it as seriously as we should. And, I suspect, that’s where most of us are – we have heard this story so many times that it hardly makes us blink, let alone shake us up with wonder and surprise. And that’s kind of sad because this promise, as difficult as it may be to really believe, is huge and when it sinks in and lays hold of us, it changes everything.

 

Which is to say that we should have doubts and questions and downright skepticism along with the disciples. Given the volatile times in which we live, that should very well be a natural response to the good news of Easter. But it is also important to remember that doubt isn’t the opposite of faith. Doubt and faith essentially share the same bed because in the midst of doubt, faith dares to hope. So, maybe celebrating Easter this year in the shadows of these troubling times, is as good a time as any to give thanks to God for the gift of faith. We will never fully understand the mystery of this thing we call the resurrection, but that doesn’t mean it can’t inspire us to live lives of love and promise in the hope that it is true.

Pentecost 7B          July 7, 2024           Mark 6:1-13

 

We see in our gospel reading for today the continuation of a theme that has been running through the life and ministry of Jesus from the beginning. Again and again, Jesus has been forced to deal with rejection: rejection for what he teaches, rejection for what he does, and rejection for who he is.

 

The Pharisees criticize him for healing on the Sabbath. His disciples chastise him for sleeping in the middle of a stormy sea. Even his mother and his family try to get him to stop working so hard because his zealousness is proving to be an embarrassment to them. And today, Jesus returns to his hometown of Nazareth and it happens again. The people who sat next to him in worship, who celebrated with him at festivals, who watched him play and grow up, can’t accept what he has become.

 

At first, listening to Jesus teach in the synagogue, these family friends and neighbors are astonished by his eloquence and spiritual insight. They are impressed: “Where did he learn all of this?” they ask each other. “How did he get to be this good?” they wonder. “When did he get so wise all of a sudden?” they question. “After all, he is one of us. Up until recently he was just a local handyman, patching our roofs, framing our doors, and fixing our wobbly tables and chairs.” What happened? Where did Jesus get all of this?

 

Well, the answer to their questions is that he got all of this from them. He got it from his parents and siblings and relatives. He got it from his teachers at the synagogue. He got it from the values kept by his neighbors and from the stories he learned of his hometown heroes and his local scallywags. Jesus, in essence, is a mirror, showing them who they are and the role they played in shaping his identity and his place in the world. And the same is true for us. So much of what it is that makes us who we are and the things we do is shaped by our environment. And the history we carry and the people who have left a mark on our lives play a big part in our identity.

But their amazement suddenly shifts and they take offense at him. Someone in the crowd – perhaps a jealous neighbor, or maybe a childhood rival, or possibly the village gossip who loves to stir up trouble – questions the fact that Jesus has stepped out of his lane and ignored his place in the community. “He was one of us and now he thinks he’s something more – he has become something we didn’t expect him to be – something that doesn’t fit into the box we put him in.” And their doubts leave him powerless to do what he would love to do for them – what he has done for so many others.

 

But before we judge them too harshly, let’s imagine that we are also standing among his homies wondering the same thing ourselves. Like them, how often have we missed the holy among us because we could only see what we wanted to see? How often have we missed the new thing God is doing in Jesus because what we could only see is the old and familiar? How often have we not allowed Jesus to surprise us?

 

I remember something a wise friend told Pam and me when we were newly married. She said that we should surprise each other every once in a while with something unexpected. That surprise, she said, keeps the intrigue and the mystery of love alive in a relationship. I believe that part of the gospel mission for us involves an element of surprise. Because our openness to being surprised, keeps us open to the intrigue and mystery of God’s deep love for us so that it doesn’t get old and boring and meaningless.

 

My prayer for you, my friends, is that when you listen to Jesus you can hear a new thing God is doing underneath the comfortable traditions and the familiar habits of your faith. I pray you will be surprised by the mystery of the abundant life God has for you in Jesus – a life filled with love and grace … with mercy and forgiveness … with freedom and peace. May you have the eyes to see and the ears to hear the surprising good news God has for you in Jesus Christ, our Lord.

© 2013 Cedar Valley Lutheran Church  |  27076 Cedar Church Road, Winona, MN 55987  |  cedarvalleylutheran.com

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