Easter Service

Scripture Mark 16:1-8

            “The women said nothing because they were terrified.”

            For Christians, Easter is THE Day! The flowers are in bloom, white shoes back in style, the choir belts out those over the top anthems as the preacher reshuffles old notes making them seem new by once again declaring “Christ is Risen”.   The congregation sings, “Hallelujah”, we retire to a wonderful dinner featuring Smithfield Ham then turn on the TV to watch the last nine holes of The Masters.  

            None of that will happen this year. Our lives, our faith, are stuck in Saturday.

            Holy Week follows a natural progression. On Palm Sunday Jesus comes into Jerusalem. The outsider dares to enter the inner ring. Those in charge are initially amused by this masquerade parading through the streets of Jerusalem. Jesus has no license.  He barely has a following. But as the crowds grow, paranoia increases. “Who is this clown from Galilee?  Why did Jesus pick this week to disrupt our lives?”

            By Thursday, the verdict has been reached. Even as Jesus gathers for a final meal his fate has been sealed. A bargain arranged, a kiss delivered, a messiah betrayed. Thursday bleeds into Friday. “Are you not the King of the Jews?” “Save yourself, you saved others.” Those who believed they were born for a lifetime of greatness declared this “king for a day” would not make it past three o’clock.       

The women, the only ones brave enough to show their faces, spent Saturday together. They waited to prepare the body. They mourned the loss of a friend. Perhaps they remembered the promises he had made, but probably not. Death has a way of limiting our vision. We remember, but we seldom project. Head stones always are marked by two dates.

            When the sun sat on the Sabbath, darkness entered the hearts of those women. They gathered their spices, said the prescribed prayers, and tried to sleep. Death creates an eternal rest for the departed but seldom offers sleep for those who mourn. The women waited for the dawn then walked toward the grave of their beloved. Saturday was behind them. What lay ahead was beyond their comprehension. How could they understand the narrative had been changed? The old way, the old world, had not just been interrupted, it had been transformed. But the women remained terrified.

            AND SO ARE WE! This is like no Easter we have ever experienced. For most folks Easter is a celebration of the beginning Spring. Few people actually practice Lent. Only a handful participates in Maundy Thursday. Good Friday elicits more debate than participation. But we all make it to church on Easter. We know how the story ends. We make jokes about seeing folks we hadn’t seen since Christmas. We sing the songs,

listen to the sermon, and joyously proclaim, “Christ has risen, he has risen indeed.” Maybe what we are subconsciously thinking is, “Spring has risen, Spring has risen indeed.” We can leave our homes. We can frolic in the sunshine. We can put away the canned green beans and anticipate fresh tomatoes and peaches. The birds are singing. The air is fresh. It is good to be alive.

            ONLY we can’t leave our homes. Spring has arrived, but death is about to crash down upon us. Maybe for the first time you are sitting alone on Easter Sunday. Maybe for the first time you understand why those women were terrified. Walking to that tomb each woman must have been thinking, “What am I going to do? What if I am discovered on the way to the tomb? I am afraid to talk to anyone. I should not have left my home. What if I am caught? Will I be put to death?”

            We have been captured by Saturday. We know Good Friday is real because each day the death toll mounts. We are told the pandemic will end but no one can give us any real answers. We choose our prophets and cling to their promises. “Things will be back to normal soon. Everything will be as good as it ever was. This will be the greatest resurrection of all time.” That is what the women were told. What do you think they really believed? All we know is they were terrified. Maybe that is a good thing.

            John Dominic Crossan in his commentary on Mark 16:1-8 claims the women were terrified because Anyone who understands what it means to be a disciple of Jesus is afraid. If you are not afraid, you don’t understand. Crossan stresses the challenge the call to discipleship represents. Jesus desires faithful disciples who are willing to walk through the darkness rather than comfortable Christians who want to glory triumphantly in the light. Crossan states, There is a stern challenge to the Markan community to prepare for the coming of the Lord through suffering, service, and mission in this world. Jesus, as portrayed in the Gospel of Mark, didn’t come to resurrect the dead. Jesus came to resurrect humanity. Jesus came to give hope and conquer despair. Jesus came to give life to those who knew only death. He stood against a régime which manipulated through fear and it cost Jesus his life. But they could not kill his dream.

            Fear comes in many flavors. Initially these women feared being discovered. Jesus was dead. What was to stop the leaders of the synagogue from eliminating anyone who had associated with their Lord? Judas had betrayed Jesus. Maybe Peter was making a list of the faithful in order to save his life. No one was safe. Everyone was under suspicion. Today we look suspiciously at friends and neighbors. We practice social distancing. We religiously wash our hands as death creeps across the nation. We know the virus is coming. Fear dominates our lives.

            The women in our story also experienced a second fear. They were told, “He is not here. He will meet you in Galilee.” Everything changed. Jesus is alive. The new heaven is to begin right here. On Friday the kingdom of darkness, the kingdom of deceit, the kingdom of lies was victorious. Jesus had spoken a different truth. Jesus had practiced a different compassion. Jesus had promised a new kingdom. On Friday Jesus was killed. Hopes and dreams vanished. Survival was all that mattered and survival quickly led to compromise.  Walking to the tomb the women are afraid for their lives. But when they hear the words, “He will meet you in Galilee”, they are terrified by a memory. Months before Jesus had said, “One day I will ask you to pick up your cross and follow me.” They dismissed the words as poetic hyperbole. Now they knew where that cross was to be found. Jesus wanted them to resurrect humanity, and they were terrified.

In the next months Covid-19 will dissipated. Will we return to Friday? The news cycle will circulate stories on how those in charge either saved or failed us. We will quickly reestablish ourselves as red or blue tribes. From our pulpits we will declare that Easter has finally arrived. We will celebrate a victory while failing to acknowledge most of the deaths in America were disproportionately among the poor, people of color, and those with no health care. Then the word of the Lord will come. Jesus will meet us in Brooklyn, or Camden New Jersey, or North St. Louis, or Southside Chicago, or the Colonias along our Southwest border. Jesus will meet us where our rivers are poisoned and our skies blocked by smog. Jesus will meet us anywhere that we can begin to work toward a new heaven here on earth. And that terrifies us.

So here we sit, between Friday and Sunday. Here we sit, terrified of a virus and terrified of how God would have us respond once the quarantine is lifted.

 It is Saturday, but Sunday is coming. Whose cross will you pick up?     Amen.