Easter Sunday: Resurrection

Mark 16:1-8

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, ‘Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?’ When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, ‘Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.’ So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Have I ever told you about the time I ruined Easter? Well maybe not the entirety of Easter, but I nearly ruined the 6:00 am service here at Bethlehem. For those of you who have never worshiped in this space at 6:00 am on Easter, let me tell you how it’s supposed to go.

You enter the sanctuary in the dark. There are ushers with flashlights that help you navigate your way to your seats. Your nose is assaulted by the potent aroma of lilies and other gorgeous flowers that you can just imagine in your mind’s eye because the smell is so powerful.

Then right at 6:00 you get the roll of a timpani, there is a dramatic bible reading, of late we’ve been reading from the Revelation text you heard me read at the beginning of this morning’s service. Then the organ swells and the brass quartet sounds and the lights come on and everyone starts singing Jesus Christ is risen today. It’s kind of magical. I totally recommend it.

But a few years ago. That’s not what happened.

I had arrived at church shortly before 5:00 am. Everything looked fabulous, the flowers, the cross, communion was set and ready. It was perfect.

So then I went about setting the transitions on our old lighting panel. I felt like I had the perfect setting, it was in standby and ready to go. The sanctuary was pitch black.

Five minutes before 6:00 am, we’re all in our places. I’m standing by the light panel ready to hit go. The door behind me here was open so I could see into the sanctuary just to make sure things were unfolding according to plan.

All of a sudden, at 5:57, all the lights come on, full blast. I look through the door and I see the shocked faces of people who were sitting in the old choir loft. Pastor Chris Nelson came running down the hall over here flapping his arms saying the lights are on, the lights are on.

I’m like I can see the lights are on, I’m working on it.

The last thing I remember as the lights slowly came back down, was making eye contact with Lou Smith who was probably 7 or 8 years old at the time. And he had this concerned look on his face that was like, dude I think you’re in trouble. Later Steph told me, Lou leaned over to her and said, I hope Ben’s not in too much trouble.

I would rather have that happen every year for the next 10 than have to do Easter in this way.

I didn’t really want to show up this morning. But I didn’t know what else to do.

It just doesn’t feel right, it doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to. We had big plans, glorious plans. We all had things that we were going to do, places we were going to be, people we were going to see. Not just today, but in the weeks leading up to today, and in the weeks to come.

And now it’s all either canceled or in the best case scenarios put on hold indefinitely.

There’s all kinds of grief associated with the loss of what was supposed to be, of the things that could have been.

That doesn’t even take into account all the grief and pain and suffering that the actual virus is causing. People are dying alone. Families are living in fear because someone has been deemed essential and is working on the front lines. Businesses and careers and livelihood hang in the balance.

Like I said, I didn’t really want to show up on this Easter morning that feels more like Good Friday. But I didn’t know what else to do. So I’m here.

In this morning’s gospel reading from Mark’s gospel, the women head out to Jesus’ tomb, to care for his body. Laden with grief, frustration, fear and shattered dreams they make their way to do what they can, to do what they hoped they’d never have to do. They head to the tomb because they don’t know what else to do.

And at the tomb things get complicated. The giant stone has been moved. Jesus’ body is gone. And a young man in white tells them that Jesus has risen.

They’re amazed at what they find. They’re terrified by what they discover. It doesn’t make sense. The young man tells them to go, tell the other disciples to meet Jesus in Galilee, just as Jesus told them. They’re given a promise. They’re given good news. But it’s all too much. It doesn’t make sense. These women know what they know. They’ve lived life in this world, they know the finality of death, they’ve seen it first hand. They know that Jesus was dead and buried and a giant rock was put in front of the tomb. End of story.

But now, as they’re going through the motions, as they’re trying to put one foot in front of another, as they’re showing up because they don’t know what else to do, they are hit with news like this?

The crucified one has risen? The dead one is alive? Jesus is loose in the world and we’re supposed to go meet him out there?

So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

And foolishly I thought Easter could be ruined. Naively I believed that somehow the power of the resurrection could be contained.

Hear me now. If the silence of the first witnesses to the resurrection couldn’t constrain or limit the power of the gospel what makes you think a global pandemic can. The power of this story isn’t going to be stifled by the fact that you are there and I’m here and that we can’t be together. The power of God isn’t going to be held in check by a virus that threatens our mortality.

Jesus has embraced and defeated death. Death doesn’t hold power over us. Death doesn’t rule this world. Jesus does. Life does. The eternal and never ending love of God does.

This isn’t the Easter any of us would have chosen. But it’s the Easter we need. As we stare into the face of uncertainty, of disease, of death. God declares to you and to me that Jesus is living, the crucified one has been raised, and we belong to God forever.

So this day. May God do for us what God has done for God’s people throughout time eternal. May God take on your grief, your fear, and despair and give you the blazing joy of God’s unfailing love.

For Christ is Risen. Christ is Risen indeed. Alleluia Amen.