Sermons

Moving Rocks to Make Way for the Risen Christ
The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
Easter Sunday 2008
March 23, 2008

In school we learned the myth of Sisyphus, the king of Corinth, who because of his cruel ways was condemned for eternity by the gods of the underworld to push a boulder up a mountainside, only to watch it plunge to the bottom, so that he had to start all over again. I remember as a kid thinking this was certainly a punishment from hell, and over the years, when life has been most difficult, I've wondered--am I doomed to the curse of Sisyphus?

Fortunately, I do not agree with Albert Camus who insisted that the Sisyphus myth characterizes the dilemma of modern humanity. Instead, I am a Christian who professes that the stone has been rolled away, and Christ has been released from the prison of death. Like the apostle Peter, I believe in the resurrection, and thus can proclaim that though "they put [Jesus] to death by hanging him on a tree...God raised him on the third day," (Acts 10:40). They killed Jesus, but God vindicated him, and he lives. I believe that the power and grace of love incarnate, which was made manifest on the mount of Transfiguration, could not be pushed down and stopped forever.

It's not the same old record playing over and over again on a broken turntable, nor is it rolling a rock up a mountain only to have it plunge to the bottom and start all over again. With St. Paul, I profess, "If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation" (2 Corinthians 5:17).

But there was a stone, a rock, a big heavy boulder blocking the entrance to Jesus' tomb, and somehow, someway it had to be moved for God's dream to continue. In the Gospel according to Mark, the earliest of the gospel accounts, when the women arrived at the tomb, the found it sealed with a stone, and they asked, "Who will roll away the stone for us?" (Mark 16:3).

This stone was standing between them and their beloved Jesus. This stone was the impediment to their ritual of grief and mourning. Because of the stone, they could not properly anoint Jesus' body or weep and wail over his casket. This stone was blocking their way to getting on with the rites of death, which allow us to get on with our lives. It was a roadblock of frustration, a mountain of dismay, and a landslide of finality. This stone appeared to be the final dead-end to the story.

I liken this stone to the hopelessness we feel when we simply can't see the forest through the trees, when the waves are too great to ride, or when we've been stomach-punched one too many times. It is like a locked door, a frozen computer, or a dead phone line. It is the fight that has no resolution, the addiction that is out of control, or the job that never lets up. The stone is the pile of belongings on the front lawn of foreclosure, or the last unemployment check. It is the umpteenth letter of rejection or another low score on that all-important exam. It is one more steel mill closing or one more border fence erected. It is one more all-night argument, one more door slammed shut, and one more black eye. It is one more execution, one more child dying of AIDS, or one more soldier or innocent killed on the battlefields of war. In the words of poet T.S. Eliot, "This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but with a whimper," (The Hollow Men).

Fortunately, the stone was rolled away. The Easter accounts of Mark and Luke offer no explanation. Matthew's Gospel goes further, and reports that "an angel of the Lord descended from heaven and came and rolled back the stone," (Matthew 28:2). And contrary to the myth of Sisyphus, this rock didn't move again. In his book Who will Roll Away the Stone, teacher and peace activist Ched Meyers writes that the stone was moved by "a force from beyond the bounds of story and history...a miraculous gift from the Presence outside the constraints of natural or civic law and order, from the one who is...nonidentified and unnamable, radically free yet bound in passion to us." (414) Dietrich Bonhoeffer, imprisoned in his own tomb of death by the Nazi regime, called this powerful presence "grace."

According to Matthew, not only had the grave been opened, but also the need for proper burial had disappeared. Jesus' body was gone, and in his place was a messenger.

"Looking for Jesus?" he asked. "Don't look here." He's not in the grave. "He has been raised from the dead." Can you imagine what those women were experiencing? On first thought, they probably wondered: who stole the body? After all, grave robbers have plundered the homes of the dead throughout history in search of gems, money, and even bodies.

But the messenger continued with words of unbelievable promise, optimism and assurance: "He is going ahead of you to Galilee," (Matthew 28: 7). Jesus was going back to the place where it all began, to where they first met him, a man on a mission. He was going to back to the place of falling in love, to the land of hopes and dreams. The dead-end of God's mission in Christ on Good Friday gave way to a new road in the resurrection of Easter Sunday, and "the stone the builders rejected had become the cornerstone" (Mark 12:10) of this new highway.

The new road of Easter is the way of justice, love and mercy for all creation. It is a highway where all God's children have enough to eat, where people don't die for lack of clean water and healthcare, where the swords of war are turned into the plowshares of peace, and where folks who make mistakes are given a second-chance. It is a new realm where, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, people "shall build houses and inhabit them...shall plant vineyards and eat their fruit...shall not labor in vain or bear children for calamity...where they shall not hurt or destroy..." (Isaiah 65). The new road of Easter is one where neighbors are valued and not pitted against each other, where no one is a scapegoat, where the many ways to worship God are honored, and where we find the blessing of unity in the gift of diversity.

Now some of you might say, this isn't what the Easter message is all about. It's about salvation. Sisters and brothers, I'm here on this Easter morning to remind you that the way of justice, love and mercy for all creation is the way of salvation, because without it, we are not going to survive.

To be certain, there are lots of stones and rocks blocking the way. There are stones of racism, classism, sexism, homophobia, and xenophobia. There are rocks of laziness, addiction, greed, and selfishness. There are boulders of stubbornness, superstition, ignorance, hatred and fear. They are real--as real and as obstructive as the stone blocking the tomb of Jesus. Like the women at the grave, we need to acknowledge that these stones and rocks exist and that we need someone to move them out of our way.

The Gospels either state or suggest that the stone was moved by divine prophecy and providence. However, sometimes God uses ordinary human beings as providential stone movers and prophetic rock haulers. Barack Obama moved a stone this past week by acknowledging the "complexities of race in this country that we've never really worked through--a part of our union that we have yet to perfect." Hillary Clinton moved a stone by calling the poverty of children in America "not just an economic problem...[but] a moral outrage." John McCain moved a stone by warning that the vitriol against undocumented immigrants is getting wildly out of hand and saying, "We need to sit down and recognize these are God's children, as well."

Yes, God can use even presidential candidates--be they Democrats, Republicans or Independents - as messengers to roll away stones. God also uses ordinary folks who rise from the ashes of their lives and move huge rocks in the way of justice and peace.

Two weeks ago, I had the privilege of attending The Global Peace Initiative of Women Summit in Jaipur, India. There I met some remarkable stone rollers and rock movers, among them: Ali Abu Awaad, a young Palestinian featured in the film Encounter Point, who rose from imprisonment and injury to move stones of violence in Israel and Palestine through the Bereaved Families Forum; Joyce Oneko, a successful lawyer in Kenya, who following the death of her son, retired to her native village to address poverty, illiteracy and the lack of drinking water on the shores of Lake Victoria; Sakeena Yacoobi (one of the most courageous women I've ever met) the founder and executive director of the Afghan Institution of Learning, who rose from the oppression of the Taliban to teach frightened women how to become economically independent; and Theary Seng, a survivor of the Cambodian killing fields who now directs the Center for Social Development in Phnom Penh. These are ordinary people--who are not any smarter, better educated, more influential, powerful or privileged than anyone here in this cathedral--yet who in their own time and place, have displayed extraordinary faith, courage and determination, moving enormous stones to make the way for God's dream of justice, love and mercy for all creation.

If I've learned one thing in my years of ministry, it is this. We are all in this world together, and there are stones in the way, and they need to be moved. God will provide the grace and power, but we need to do some heavy lifting. The good news is that God will give us what we need to roll the stones and walk the way. The even better news is that, if we keep our eyes wide open, we will meet Jesus on the road. That is the Easter promise. So let's move the stones and make way for the Risen Christ.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen! The Lord is Risen, Indeed!