Sermons

The Very Rev. Tracey Lind
April 4, 2010
Easter Sunday

Listen to a podcast of this sermon here.

"Why do you look for the living among the dead?" To our ears, it's not a strange question. We know the story. But to these grieving disciples of Jesus - the women who loved and followed him - this was an outrageous question.

Jesus was dead. He had been executed. The women had witnessed it with their own eyes.

Who were these strange intruders, and what were they talking about? Had the grieving women misunderstood the question? No, the two messengers beside them in the cave clearly asked, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen."

He has risen. What on earth were they talking about? Were they crazy or was this one more mean-spirited joke by Pilate's soldiers?

The strangers continued: "Remember...remember how he told you..." The rest of the sentence was lost. The grieving women, each absorbed in their own pain, ventured into that sacred place called memory. They remembered the Jesus they knew and loved.

Mary Magdalene remembered meeting Jesus early on in his ministry. He told her that she was a beloved child of God as he healed her from the demons that possessed her soul. Jesus saved her life, and she hoped that her smile, her gratitude, and perhaps, the scent of her perfume remained with him at his death. Yes, Mary Magdalene remembered.

Joanna was also lost in her thoughts. She remembered hearing about this up-country preacher at a dinner party one night and the ruckus he was causing among the poor in town. And then, the next day, she saw him surrounded by crowds in the market. She watched as the children ran up to hug him. She saw him touch the untouchables. She heard him teaching about this kingdom of God. What a wonderful vision he had - comparing it to a fine pearl, a lost coin and a mustard seed. She was so taken by him that she gave him her grocery money.

She recalled the argument with her husband at dinner that evening. How could she support this rebel, this troublemaker? Did she not understand the position in which she was putting him? After all, he was a steward in Herod's court. And then, a few days later, her husband came home gloating about Jesus' trial. Yes, Joanna remembered.

Mary, the mother of James, was also alone in her memories. She recalled her son coming home from fishing one day and announcing to his father Zebedee that he was quitting the family business. He and his brother John were going off with their friend Simon and this carpenter named Jesus.

Weeks later, she finally met Jesus when he came to dinner at Simon's house. Both she and Simon's wife agreed: he was an impressive man, full of strong ideals, vivid dreams, and good intentions. And, Simon's mother-in-law couldn't stop talking about how Jesus had healed her when she laid up with that awful fever.

Not only that, but Mary couldn't get over the change in her son James. He had matured so much over the past three years, and he seemed to have a real purpose in life. And then she smiled, recalling how Jesus put him in his place when he got all puffed up and asked to sit at his right hand in heaven. But now he was devastated, and she was worried. What would he do without his hero, leader and friend? Yes, Mary the mother of James remembered.

Jesus' own mother looked at the strangers. Remember, if only she could forget. Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt so much. Mary had a lot to remember: her unexplainable pregnancy, telling her fiance Joseph that he wasn't the father, spending those months in the hill country with cousin Elizabeth, and finally, giving birth in a stable far from home.

Mary recalled the look on the old man's face in the Temple when he took her baby boy in his arms and blessed him. She remembered her precocious child reading Torah to his elders, and years later, marveling as he turned water into wine at a family wedding. She had watched her beloved son become a man that she could never completely understand, a man who called God his father and claimed the whole world as family. And then, like an awful nightmare, she replayed the last few days - witnessing her own flesh and blood arrested, judged and executed like a common criminal. Yes, she remembered. How could a mother forget?

Also lost in their memories were the others: the disabled woman Jesus had helped to walk; the woman whose hemorrhage he had healed; Suzanna, his benefactor; the Samaritan woman he met at the well; the woman whom Jesus defended when the authorities wanted to stone her to death for adultery; the anonymous woman who poured oil on his feet at his last supper; and of course, his dear friends, Mary and Martha. Even that young servant girl who confronted Peter by the fire on the night of Jesus' arrest - she was watching in the shadows. They all remembered the Jesus who had touched their hearts and changed their lives. Now he was gone. Remember - how could any of them ever forget?

But the messengers in the tomb were insistent. Jesus had said that the Son of Man would be killed and would rise again. Well, guess what? He kept his promise. Your Jesus was the Son of Man, and he is not here. He has risen. You will not find him in this tomb of death. Go look for him among the living.

Resurrection - it is sheer and utter madness. It doesn't make rational sense, but Jesus told us clearly, "If you want to gain your life, you must lose it. If you want to live, you must be willing to die."

Dying people often understand that which the rest of the living find hard to comprehend. In his book, Tuesdays with Morrie, writer Mitch Albom learned this valuable lesson from his beloved professor, Morrie Schwartz, as he died of ALS.

In one of their Tuesday conversations, Morrie said to Mitch, "Once you learn how to die, you learn how to live." (Tuesdays with Morrie, p. 82) He then explained how in dying, we learn about what's really important in living.

Morrie was correct. It is often in dying that we learn to acknowledge our strengths and accept our limitations; that we come to own our past, but not to be owned by it; and that we figure out how to forgive ourselves, and then are able to really forgive others. It is often at the end of our lives that we stop assuming that it is too late to get involved or we have too little to offer. And at the end, many of us finally are able to love and be loved. Just imagine what a wonderful life it would be if we could learn these lessons before dying.

As Morrie approached death, he told Mitch that he intended to be buried on the top of a nearby hill with a very good view. He encouraged Mitch to visit him at his grave in order to continue their conversation.

Mitch didn't understand. So Morrie explained that, "death ends a life, not a relationship." (Ibid, p. 174) If you don't get it, ask a widow or widower to explain this truth to you.

That is precisely what the messengers were trying to tell the weeping and mourning women who loved Jesus. His earthly life might have ended, but not their relationship with him. His body might be gone, but not his spirit. Like so many of us, they were looking for life in the wrong place.

Why do we look for the living among the dead? It's a good question. Why do so many of us unconsciously resist life by looking for it in dead places, dead relationships, and deadly activities?

Think about it. We get caught in old ways, old patterns and old habits. We hang on – even when we know it's time to let go.

God wants us to do it differently, and Jesus shows us the way. Through his words and actions, Jesus teaches us to seek that which is truly life-giving, and release that which is death-dealing.

All the prestige, power and privilege; all the toys, gadgets, and technology; all the creams, polishes, and potions – at the last day, none of it will make a difference. In the end, what matters is that we have been loved and have loved as fully as we are able.

Jesus, a young Jewish man from Galilee, and Morrie, an old Jewish guy from Boston, both got it right. The most important thing in life is to learn how to give and receive love, because in the tug-of-war between life and death, as Morrie said, "Love always wins." (Ibid, p. 40)

The resurrection is God's unequivocal "No" to death and despair, and unconditional "Yes" to life and love. It is God's way of winning this age-old tug-of-war.

So, on this Easter morning, if you are wondering about your life, if you're feeling like death and despair are winning, remember. Remember that Christ is not found in the grave; rather, Christ is on the road—walking ahead of us and inviting us to come along. So, get up, get going, and learn to live before you die. Amen!