Contrary to what one would think . . . that first Easter was not the big whoop and holler celebration we experience today. No, that first Easter was a quieter and more subtle affair. It was not what one would expect.
In the Gospel of Luke, we are told that that morning started early with a group of women heading to the tomb to properly prepare the body of the crucified Jesus. I imagine that it was a somber and quiet affair. Imagine the shock the women felt when they saw the stone rolled from the entrance of the tomb . . . the shock of not finding the body of Jesus. Imagine the fear they felt when they are suddenly confronted by two men in “clothes that gleamed like lightning” there in the tomb. Imagine the stupor they must have felt as they are told . . . quite matter of factly . . . that Jesus wasn’t there. Didn’t they remember what Jesus had told them . . . that he would be crucified and would be raised again on the third day?
And then they remembered.
That was it. No heavenly choirs. No flashing lights. No booming voice. No doves flying down from the heavens. That was it . . . an empty tomb and a missing body. Jesus lives!
When the women returned from the tomb, they told these things to the disciples and others. But none of them believed the women. Told the women that it sounded like nonsense. None of it made sense. Peter, having heard what the women told, ran to the tomb . . . looked in and saw the pile of linen cloths and no body. Jesus was gone, but it did not make sense. The writer of Luke’s gospel tells us that “he went away, wondering to himself what had happened.”
A week ago, we were hearing about the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem . . . hearing about the big parade. There was the waving of palms. Lots of cheering and shouting . . . people proclaiming, “hosannas in the highest”. It was a grand entrance announcing the arrival of the king. It was a party with all sorts of whooping and hollering. And now . . . this. It did not make sense . . . it was contrary to what one would think or expect when it comes to a resurrection of the Son of God. It is no wonder that Peter and the other disciples had difficulty believing what the women shared.
It seems that in most of the stories we hear about Jesus there is always some sort of fanfare that accompanies them. The birth of Jesus is quite a spectacle . . . a big old star, heavenly choirs, a bunch of wise men. The baptism of Jesus also was quite a show . . . once again, heavenly choirs, descending doves, and a booming voice. In comparison an empty tomb and a pile of linen cloths seems pretty mild . . . maybe even lame. But that is how the writer of Luke’s gospel kicks off Easter . . . an empty tomb on a quiet, unassuming early morning.
You would think that a resurrection would warrant something a little more substantial. Shoot we raise more of a ruckus than what we read this morning. Easter is worth whooping and hollering about. It is the crowning affirmation of God’s love and grace for all of God’s children. God loves us. God wants us. It is something we should shout about. Yet, contrary to all of that, Easter arrives in a quieter and more subtle way. It comes less dramatically than one would expect, but it could come in no other way and still carry the impact it needed to share.
It is a new beginning. There is hope.
In an article in the Billings Gazette it spoke about Easter being “a promise of hope” for several congregations that had been devastated in disasters in the past year. It shared about First United Methodist Church in Mayfield, Kentucky that had been destroyed by a horrific tornado that ripped through that part of the state. It totally demolished the church building to a pile of rubble. But the congregation will be gathered today to celebrate Easter. There is hope. As the pastor stated: “We are all about finding those bright spots.” Out of the rubble they have discovered hope and new beginnings . . . they have turned outward to help those in their community to rebuild what they have lost. This is contrary to what they had expected.
Middle Collegiate Church in New York City was gutted by a fire during the pandemic. Yet, as they rebuild, they discovered hope in the least expected of places. The congregation shares in the hospitality of their Jewish neighbors as the East End Temple opened its doors to welcome them in. Rabbi Joshua Stanton states: “It was very clear when the tragedy fell on Middle Collegiate Church that we needed to live out our values, open our doors.” The congregation will gather today and celebrate Easter as the rabbi offers prayer during their Easter service. There is great hope for the congregation. As one member put it: “It feels like a miracle, going through the fire and the pandemic worldwide, all that we’ve gone through . . . to now have a place to call home.” Another stated: “For Middle, this is a time of resurrection” as they continue the community ministries they have always had to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, and care for the homeless—the least of these.
In Colorado at the Ascent Community Church 26 families—including the lead pastor--lost their homes in the harrowing fire that swept across that area in late December. In the charred remains of his home, lead pastor Bill Stephens sees the ashes of his family’s life burnt to nothing. Yet at the same time he sees green shoots and yellow blossoms. Stephens sees hope . . . he sees a new beginning despite the grief of losing everything. He states: “That Jesus conquered the grave, conquered the sin . . . and breathed life on Easter Sunday, there’s something really powerful about thinking about ours as just a minor version of that.”
And, lastly, in Louisiana, the priest at Saint Charles Borromeo Catholic Church will celebrate Mass today in the rubble of the church under a temporary tent after Hurricane Ida leveled the area about 80 miles southwest of New Orleans. The priest proclaims: “We have lots of hope. Easter strengthens us.” A parishioner agrees. There is hope and new beginnings. The parishioner, Teddy Neal, says, “I see Easter as a new beginning. I’m pretty much humbled, where it doesn’t matter what the conditions are—as long as I’m present with Jesus during the Eucharist.” There is hope. There are new beginnings. Jesus lives!
God is mystery and contrary to what we think and expect, more often than not God comes to us in ways that we least expect. So why should Easter be any different?
We witness in the story this morning—despite it all, God comes to us . . . and in God’s coming we find hope in the least expected places in our lives. That is what the women at the tomb would tell us. Out of the darkness comes light. Out of the rubble comes flowers. Out of death comes life. Out of it all comes hope. Easter is a moment of contrary. We find hope and new beginnings. God loves us . . . Jesus lives! Amen.
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