Death Swallowed Up

Easter Sunday, April 12, 2009
Rev. Amy Sens
Scripture: Mark 16:1-8

Good morning. Christ is Risen! Thanks be to God. Today, I’d like to take some time with you to think about what it was like for those women on that very first Easter, and to consider what it means for us. Jesus’ resurrection is a bold claim by God on all of our lives. It is a miracle and a sign of hope. It is good news! Will you pray with me?

Prayer:
God, in the resurrection of Jesus, you have overcome death. We don’t know how this mystery comes about, or even, sometimes, what to believe about it. Open our hearts, open our minds, and open our lives to the risen Christ. These things we pray in Jesus’ name. Amen.

The women who came to the tomb on that first Easter morning were not expecting a resurrection. They had been witnesses to Jesus’ bloody, brutal death on the cross. He had been their teacher and leader, and now he was dead. And as a final tribute to him, they planned to care for his body – to dress it and attend to it, and to apply burial ointments. They walk to the tomb where he has been buried, sad, mournful, and a little worried, “There is a big stone in the way of the tomb,” they say to each other. “Who will move it out of the way for us?” They are focused on the practical details. They are not expecting a resurrection.

Imagine you’re driving down a road you follow pretty often, maybe one that you take to get home, and you see signs of construction. There are orange diamond-shaped signs, there are workers with signs signaling “Slow,” or “Stop,” and there are traffic cones guiding you out of your usual lane. You would expect there to be some construction going on. All the clues point to it. What if, instead of construction, the road leads around a bend, and suddenly you’re at the edge of a cliff, looking out at the Grand Canyon? Would your first reaction be one of joy and celebration?

Death is one of the few constants in our lives. Loved ones and pets, dear friends and arch rivals, the famous and the insignificant, all of us, even we ourselves, will one day die. But in the resurrection of Jesus, God adds a big, fat, comma to the sentence where death used to be the period.

Everyone must die, (comma), but Jesus died and rose again.
Our lives must end, (comma) but Jesus promises eternal life
Death was the final answer, (comma), until God decided it wasn’t anymore.

The women coming to the tomb on that first Easter morning are expecting Jesus to stay dead. They are hoping to put a period at the end of his sentence. They are planning to honor what his life meant to them, and then to move on. So their first reaction is not joy and celebration. Their first reaction is surprise and fear. What can this possibly mean?

In the last two thousand years or so, we’ve had the chance to get over some of the surprise of Jesus’ resurrection. We’ve started learning to scale the majestic beauty of the canyons left behind when God swallowed death up. We’ve had a chance to reflect, and in some ways, to get used to the idea. But that question still sticks with us: What can this possibly mean? What can this mean for me and for my life? What can it mean for living a Christian life in response to the resurrection?

Death swallowed up leaves behind a big hole in the way things normally go. We can let go of fear. We can let go of our grudges and resentments. We can let go of the pressure to be perfect. The resurrection of Jesus changes everything.

I’ll close with a story. Once upon a time, there was a mining town where all the people dug deep under the ground to find what mattered most to them – veins of silver, sparkling jewels, iron and copper ore. But they worked so hard and so long that when they went underground it was dark, and when they came out of the ground it was dark. Even the children worked this way, scaling down deep tunnels, dimly lit, to claw and scrabble at the rock, hour after hour, day after day, year after year.

The people knew that there was sunlight during the day, and at night they breathed the freshness of the air. But they said to themselves, even as they thought of the daylight and the fresh air, “It is more important to fight the rock and find what we need, than to waste even a few moments in the sun. It cannot be so good, can it?” And they worked and worked. Then one day, a stranger came to the mining town. He looked like the mining town people, and he spoke like them, but he acted very differently. He came down into the mines to speak to the people, but then he would climb back out again, without any silver or jewels to carry away.

“What do you do without treasures?” the people asked him.

“The sun is my gold,” he said, “and the moon is my silver. Come with me and we can live in the light in freedom together.”

Most of the people thought this was foolishness, and went on working in the mines. “That freedom is death!” they said to one another, nodding in solemn agreement. But some of the young ones, and the tired ones, and the ones who didn’t have much of a stockpile to guard, these began to stay up above the ground with the stranger, even as the light was cresting the horizon with golden rays. And a few would leave their work early to catch the last gentle rays of the setting sun. The stranger would eat with them, simple meals, but ones he blessed with thanksgiving and joy. He would pray: “Today is enough for today, God, and we give you thanks.” The people were pale and tired from their work, but the sun warmed them, and the simple meals helped them feel strong.

One day the stranger was gone, and his new friends looked everywhere to try to find him, but he was nowhere to be found. To remember him, they began to eat their meals as he had, giving thanks for the beauty of sun and moon, and lifting their hands to God with joy. Together they ventured out further and further into the light, and their skin grew healthy and their tiredness melted away. And slowly, others began to join them and live the new life of freedom with them. Then one day, as they were eating together, they saw the stranger again. His joy was in the face of each person gathered around the table. And some of them felt as though they could hear his voice saying, “Today is enough for today, God, and we give you thanks.” And they were full of thanks, indeed. Alleluia, Amen.