Easter Day, Year B
Acts, 10:34-43
Colossians, 3:1-4
Mark, 16:1-8
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson went on a long overnight hike, and after a tough day on the trails, they pitched camp and soon fell asleep.
A few hours later, Holmes woke his friend, "Watson, what do you see?"
"I see millions of stars."
"And what does that tell you?," Holmes asked.
Watson pondered briefly, organized his thoughts, and said, "Astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and billions of stars. Astrologically, it tells me that Jupiter is in Leo. Meteorologically, it tells me that it's likely that tomorrow will be a lovely day. Theologically, it tells me that God's creativity is beyond comprehension, a tremendous mystery. What does it tell you?"
Holmes took a breath, "Watson, you plodder, someone has stolen our tent."
It will not surprise you that the most common refrain in my household is: "That's one of daddy's bad jokes."
When I encounter people insisting with absolute certainty that Jesus will come again in wrath and fury, casting people into the torments of hell, I am willing to argue that when Jesus returns, he will come as a standup comic. Laughter, not mean or disparaging laughter, holy laughter comes from mirth and joy. Laughter is a sign of spiritual health and well-being, especially being able to laugh at ourselves.
In late medieval Germany, it became a custom for the Easter sermon to have a joke. This lasted until the late seventeenth century when Pope Clement X banned it because the custom had devolved into telling obscene jokes from the pulpit.
While I doubt very much that the current Pope, even given his Germanic pride, is going to reverse the ban, he does value laughter. He has written, "Is there not something very beautiful and appropriate about laughter becoming a liturgical symbol? And isn't it a tonic when we still hear, [such as] in the play of cherub and ornament in baroque churches, that laughter which testifies to the freedom of the redeemed?" 1
Laughter well expresses our joy and lightness today – an outward and visible sign of the inward and invisible truth, but Easter morning for the first Christians was a far more ambiguous occasion. Today's gospel is the last eight verses of S. Mark's gospel, and it does not make for a neat, happy ending.
Early Sunday morning, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome returned to the cemetery to anoint Jesus' body, and they discovered the tomb empty. Amazed, they were further shocked to find a young man in white – an angel? His message, "Do not be afraid. Jesus was crucified. He is risen. He is not here. Go and tell the disciples that Jesus is going ahead of them into Galilee; there you will see him, as he told you." In terror or in awe, the women fled. But the women, up to this point the only disciples not to abandon Jesus at his crucifixion, did not tell anyone. They were afraid.
In Mark's gospel, the disciples never get it. God surprises them at every turn. Jesus is not what we expect. We should be humble, and we should beware of those who aren't humble, beware of those who claim much certainty about the mind of Christ, especially as it pertains to a moral or political agenda. Throughout his gospel, Mark portrays the disciples, the first Christians, the most authoritative Christians, as bumbling, misunderstanding, petty, and anxious, and then at the end they are even moral failures. Jesus' friends abandoned him, left him hanging – literally. But upon raising from the dead, Jesus message is: "I'll see you in Galilee."
This is good news for every one of us. In Jesus, we can have a fresh start; we can make a new beginning in Galilee. Easter shows us that God forgives us. We don't have to be slaves to our past. We've all got skeletons in our closets, but we don't have to live with them. Jesus releases us from our guilt, our regret, our embarrassment, our failure. He won't hold it against us. Those things don't have to define us for the rest of our lives. God can transform our lives.
That said, today's gospel is not a mere happy ending. This isn't Hollywood. Rather, Mark gives us a dangling, awkward, ambiguous, disconcerting non-ending. "[The women] said nothing to anyone for they were afraid." It leaves us hanging. I think that it's deliberate. It makes us ponder and engage with the story.
Mark's gospel ends insinuating a new story, a new beginning. It suggests a new phase of life for the disciples, and it asks us whether we want to be part of that adventure. It puts a question to us: "What are you going to do? Do you want to be raised, to be changed? Do you see the world full of new possibility? Are you willing to risk trusting God?" That's a question for Christians as well as for the unchurched.
I love Easter Sunday partly because it's one day in which people with a lot of doubt about Christianity, even animosity toward Christianity, come to church, often as a kindness to someone else, or a sense of obligation, or perhaps curiosity. I am grateful that you are here. The Church needs your questions and interest.
Mark's account of the resurrection may seem lame, incomplete, unconvincing, and it certainly doesn't prove anything. But this isn't like a math equation. None of the Easter stories is wholly satisfying. They're describing what's beyond our imagination. Of course, we bring doubts to this story, but doubt does not exclude faith. The Archbishop of Canterbury says, "Faith is not, after all, about getting to the point where everything is clear and settled. It is about stepping into a disorienting new world."2 If we risk stepping into this new world, we will see Christ.
"He will go before you into Galilee, and there you will see him." The resurrected Jesus returned to where he grew up and where he started his ministry. He went back home, his home and his disciples' home. Initially, the disciples returned to their ordinary lives – to their families and friends, to their work and play, to their responsibilities and obligations. Galilee represents ordinary routine, the trials and delights of daily life. The risen Christ promises to meet us in everyday experience.
At last night's mass, the Easter Vigil, the most profound mass of the year, we blessed the baptismal font, and that rite reminds us that each of us bears in us the image of God. At our baptism, we put on Christ. He becomes part of us – he in us, and we in him. So now we find the risen Christ chiefly in other people – family, friends, strangers, and even – maybe especially – in those who offend us. After all, during his ministry, Jesus seems to have annoyed and shocked and offended just about everyone.
If we want to see the risen Christ, we have to engage with other people and to love them, and that requires us to risk ourselves. A life without risk is a living death. My brother sent me an email this week wondering why his boss' argument that happiness comes from keeping expectations low doesn't sound right, why it sounds defeatist.
It sounds defeatist because it is defeatist. Because it narrows experience, limits the possibility of new life. For a Christian, it is utter nonsense. Christians have great expectations. If we don't expect to meet the risen Christ, there's much less chance that we'll notice him when he is there. Christians are people of possibility, not fear. We are full of hope.
A rich life does not come from fearing disappointment and sorrow. Life is full of troubles, losses, sufferings, and the resurrection doesn't prevent any of that, but the resurrection does help us to be brave, to be courageous. It invites us to be part of something much bigger than ourselves. Troubles, losses, sufferings are an inevitable part of a rich, full, and happy life, a life of connection to other people, a life of risk and adventure, a life of growth and change, a life with purpose.
The Good News of Jesus is that ultimately every tear will be of laughter. Jesus has risen from the dead. Hope conquers fear. Mercy conquers judgment. Love conquers death. The future is glorious. Laughter and joy are triumphant.
Have a happy Easter!
+ In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
1. Pope Benedict XVI, in Behold the Pierced One: An Approach to a Spiritual Christology.
2. Rowan Williams, ‘Easter – The Awkward Time of Year,' The Daily Telegraph, 26 March 2005.
© 2006 Lane John Davenport
