Easter Sunday: Go Tell The Story

Mark 16:1–8 NRSV

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. And all that had been commanded them they told briefly to those around Peter. And afterward Jesus himself sent out through them, from east to west, the sacred and imperishable proclamation of eternal salvation.

In the quiet of a new morning, three women are the first witnesses to a world made entirely new. On Easter, new creation begins. In the aftermath of death and defeat, hope springs up like a seed. We are invited to go with these women, to see the empty tomb, and to then go with them to tell the story of this world turned upside. down.

Let’s back up.

The Sabbath ends at sundown on Saturday. One day after the crucifixion and the burial of Jesus. In the Good Friday text, we read that He dies after the three-o’clock hour in the afternoon. We hear that the land had gone dark and now, when all has been given, all energy and pain exhausted, Jesus gives his final breath.

In ancient Hebrew understanding, life and death begin and end with this, a breath. As we are sustained by the Creator’s life-giving breath from our birth, so we exhale our last and give up our own spirits. Christ is on the cross, letting go of the last breath of God in his lungs, finally experiencing the fullness of humanity’s curse of death.

Mark goes on, in ch. 15, to remind his readers that it is on Friday evening, on the Day of Preparation, that Jesus is buried. In the rhythm of keeping the sabbath, resting from the work of living, Friday is the time to get ready, to finish up any last minute duties and responsibilities. So, while the crucifixion has just finished, the hours of agony just ended, it is also a time of hustle, so that religious Jews could finish their work before sundown and the beginning of the Sabbath.

Rest descends upon the people as they enter the Sabbath and Jesus enters his rest in death. Good Friday, the day to die, has ended. The sun sinks down and the world mournfully moves into Sabbath.

The Gospel accounts tell us that Jesus is taken from the cross Friday evening and buried in the tomb of Joseph of Arimethea. The stone is rolled over the tomb, to ward of grave robbers and minimize the smell of the decaying body. And just like stone’s blockade, so also night rolls in and the Sabbath begins.

And there was evening. The first day closes. All is silent on this holy night.

Then comes the still emptiness of Holy Saturday.

How did the disciples sit in the tension of that day? I’m certain most of them didn’t experience it as tension, but as utter defeat. To enter into Sabbath rest after such an immense loss in the death of your rabbi, teacher, and friend, Jesus — this would have meant entering into exhausted grief.

Our Easter reading opens with a glimpse of how the disciples and followers of Jesus began to deal with their loss. Women, dear friends of Jesus, gather together to go purchase spices for the care of the dead body. Flowers for the grave. Preparation for a visit.

The Sabbath ends, shops reopen at the setting of sun on Saturday evening. Precious spices were gathered. A plan to visit the tomb solidified.

Like the silence of Friday, we have the journey and preparation for a visit on Saturday. Three women are named and likely accompanied by others, and the make a pilgrimage to prepare to mourn their dead king. Death draws them like a beacon to the grave once more, a mirror of the Star in the Advent Sky, three women bearing gifts, mirroring the wise men from afar, each preparing to honor the king in their own way.

What did they bring to the tomb? I doubt gold. Too risky, grave robbers and all. And as we’ve seen in the stories of Holy Week, money, whether it be gold or silver, can be so quickly corrupted, used to profit ourselves, used to betray.

Instead, I wonder if the women brought frankincense or myrrh. Both spices were used to honor the body, to perfume the grave. The wise men brought these gifts to the newborn king and the women do as well, to their dead king.

Saturday night ends, again, with a time of preparation. Each day’s preparation gives us a glimpse of what comes next. The women have prepared to visit the tomb with spices. And there was evening. The second day ends.

Now we come to the third day, the day following the Sabbath. Sunday, by our calendar. If Sabbath is the highpoint of our weekly rhythm, then the following day is the first of a new cycle. It is the day of returning, coming down from the joy of rest, back to the work of being God’s people, caring for our tasks, needs of others, et cetera. It is on this first day that the women venture to the tomb — to set about their work of honoring Christ’s body.

The text tells us they had been wondering to each other about the practical concern of rolling away the stone. We can imagine them walking along the road, down from Bethany, into Jerusalem, pondering some of these realities. Would anyone else be there at the tomb? Would they be allowed to honor the dead in the ways of their people, or would they be barred from the door by Roman soldiers? Would their sacred calling be met by earthly resistance?

Up to this point, when they begin their journey to the grave, everything has gone pretty much how you think it would. A public torture and death, which were sadly commonplace in Jerusalem at this time. Jesus just happened to be one of the 3 killed on Calvary that day. Passover continued on. We hear that the Temple curtain had been torn, but who knows how much word had spread about that. We can certainly imagine mourners who had witnessed the death, wandering home sadly. Maybe they skipped the Sabbath, packed their things, and began the journey back home to Galilee or Damascus. While Jesus had repeatedly told his followers how he would die and raise again, we can imagine that the vast majority of them doubted at this point. They would have been heartbroken. I can imagine wanting to flee or curl up in a ball or never leaving the house again. I can imagine fearing for my life and wanting to focus on the immediate in this moment.

At the tomb, the women witness a awe-inspiring, alarming change in the story. The stone has been rolled away.

————

Today, Resurrection Sunday, we focus in and witness a world that is remade. We share the women’s astonishment that things are not as they should be. And what is revealed in this astonishment is that through Christ’s death, the way of things is remade, reordered. The power of Roman occupation, represented in the heavy stone blocking the people from the grave entrance, perhaps blocking us from mourning, but also blocking us from experiencing the fullness of life, this stone is gone. The power of the empire was always a farce, superficial, a front. Jesus has confronted the powers of death and unmasked them. Death, the implement of the powerful, the tool of empire, has been undone, revealed, and destroyed. He is no longer here. He is risen. In this bright morning light, we see the grave open, not the results of an overnight burglary, but rather as the outcome of a world remade where life can no longer be blocked off. New creation has arrived.

What’s the point of all of this? Where do we find ourselves in this story?

Life keeps moving. Our familiar rhythms of life continue on even as we face such incredible disruptions, like the loss of a dear friend or the pains of war.

And what Jesus has done, this death and now, this arrival, this birth, his resurrection — Jesus has upset the order of things and reconfigured our reality into one where the the world is no longer bound by the finality of death. Instead, we anticipate new life, life beyond the grave.

The Sacred and imperishable promise of salvation

Easter reminds us that our lives, as they become a part of the Christ-life, find their sacred meaning and imperishable standing. No longer are we bound to the finality of death. Because of the cross, grave, and resurrection of Christ, the curse of death’s final word is broken. In Christ, we see life beyond death. Death becomes a waypoint in the journey, but not the destination. In Christ, we see the hope of being restored, reanimated, into who we have always been meant to be.

This is what we mean by new creation. Sacred and imperishable. New life.

The women go to the tomb expecting to deal with the reality of a stone to roll away and a body to cover with perfumes as it decays. These are the practical realities of a world where we die and that is that. The time of rest has ended and now it is a time for moving on.

It’s time for us to embrace this more, this resurrection life.

Perhaps you know the classic C.S. Lewis tale of Aslan of Narnia, of his death on the stone table at the hands of the White Witch, and his return to lead the people of Narnia to victory. The powers of death and destruction seem to have prevailed, but then we hear of the deeper magic that exists, sacred and imperishable, since before the dawn of time. It is this deeper magic that brings him back to the Narnians. This is new creation.

The story of Easter challenges us to wrestle with an audacious question — what if there is more beyond the grave? I’m talking about life after death, the joy of salvation. And also, I’m talking about this lived reality, right now, here amidst the Kingdom of God. Could we possibly believe in the beautiful, scandalous message that there is more for us in this world and that it is through Christ that we are welcomed into this new way of seeing?

Christ is the first born of this new way, this way of the more, this way that is sacred and imperishable. In this life, things perish, fail, and pass. But the life of the Spirit, the life of resurrection, the life that we witness in Jesus and then in us as we follow in his way — it does not pass away. In Christ, we gain direct access to this “more” of the new creation and it becomes our way. No longer are we haunted by death. Instead, we are heartened by the sweet promise of life beyond, life fulfilled, life where the gravestones and power structures and illnesses and divisions that we face every day, where those temporary pains pass away, but our spirits and our belonging to God will never pass away.

Friends, there is more for us, more for you and me. And that more is the love of Jesus that speaks back to each of us: He says, “you are mine, you are beloved, you have purpose.” Hear that today — there is more for you. More beyond the pains, beyond your struggle, beyond your hurt. And this more can be known, here and now, not just in the sweet by and by, but really here today.

Do you want to find life? Life beyond all these powers of death that pull us apart? It is found here, at this graveside, in this garden. This seed of life that Christ plants in us is meant to grow, flourish, and bear good fruit in the world. We are each invited to participate in this cultivation and sharing of the more.

To know that more, we have to let go of our certainty and our struggle to control life and death. To find the sacred and imperishable life, we simply must come to Christ’s cross and see it, with fresh eyes, as no longer the implement of torture and murder, but more. The cross becomes the shining picture of the death transformed — what was meant for evil is now our entrance into the more, into the sacred and imperishable good news of life beyond death.