Matthew 28:1-10
1After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. 2And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.
5But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’ This is my message for you.” 8So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.
9Suddenly Jesus met them and said, “Greetings!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. 10Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
Hallelujah, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Hallelujah! Amen.
Matthew the Evangelist’s account of Jesus’s death (from the chapter before today’s reading) is terrifying, and not just because of the human violence. At the moment of his last breath the veil of the temple, concealing the holy place from the people, tore in two. No longer was the Holy One hidden from the faithful. Earthquakes broke open tombs. Those events showed up the power of the temple bigshots and the occupying Roman army – the ones who killed Jesus – as pitiful and weak. Even the officer in charge of the imperial execution squad is impressed enough to confess Jesus as the son of God. It was obvious from the moment of Jesus’s death that his sacrifice did not do what his tormentors wanted to do: restore their authority.
And Jesus’s death isn’t the end, neither for us nor for his tormentors.
The account of the resurrection we heard this morning is even more intense. Another earthquake! An angel in heavenly-bright raiment moving the stone from the mouth of the tomb! The imperial gaurds passing out from fear. Make no mistake: the empire and the priests threw everything they had at Jesus to put him down. And failed, spectacularly. They did their worst and yet Jesus lives.
John the Evangelist’s account is much gentler. John tells us of a peaceful garden; I’ve always imagined it to be under trees soft with early morning dew. Mary, through her tears, mistakes Jesus for a gardener, asks for help, and recognizes him only when he speaks gently to her. When she hears his voice her joy wells up and overwhelms her grief. That’s great, it worked for her. But I wonder if it would work for me.
Matthew’s account is harsh. In some ways it echoes the experience of the despairing Hwbrew prophet Elijah hiding in that cave up on the the mountain. He withstood a great wind, then an earthquake, then a fire. Only after all the violence did the Lord appear, Not in wind, earthquake, or fire, but in the still, small, voice of calm that followed.
In Matthew we, with Jesus’s first mourners, experience the earthquake and then the dazzling angel. The earthquake and angel get everybody’s attention. They, and we, need to understand: everything has changed. Only after getting our attention does the angel say “do not be afraid”. Then Jesus, risen from the dead, appears and says the same thing.
I don’t know about you, but I’m sometimes like Elijah and like Jesus’s mourners that Sunday dawn long ago. I sometimes get so wrapped up in sorrow, anger and general despair that I need a big divine dope-slap. An earthquake helps get my attention. So does a huge shining angel.
Still, all this razzle-dazzle doesn’t make much difference to the lives of those mourners long ago, nor to us, without the divine words, “do not be afraid”. We’re used to terrifying weather; we’re used to wars and rumors of wars. We’re used to way we people mistreat each other. What’s yet another series of strange and terrifying events? We’ve become numb to such things.
It’s the words “do not be afraid” that change the world, and our hearts. Those words teach us this: the worst that can happen has already happened, and the realm of God is undefeated, even glorified.
And it’s Jesus’s words “return to Galilee, there you will see me” that set us free to go on living and loving our neighbors as ourselves. That way of living was already wonderful before the empire and the priests tried to shut them down. Now that is a holy and mighty way to leave. We are to return to our Galilee, to our lives. We’re to plant trees that won’t grow tall for decades. We’re to care for our children and grandchildren, and the earth that sustains us. We are free to live, to care for another, and sing God’s praise each day as if it’s the first day of ten thousand years of life. And Jesus is among us caring for us.
Hallelujah, Christ is risen. He’s risen indeed, Hallelujah!
Don’t you wish that were all there is to it? That we could say “see you in Galilee” and put on robes and crowns and sing God’s praise for the next ten thousand years? God knows, and we know, there’s much more to it than that. The empires and temple bigshots of this world still believe anger and fear solve problems,. They believe and teach the lie that violence is sacred to God. They’re wrong. This idea, “violence is sacred”, is a lie from the pit of hell. We know it’s a lie. The empty cross and empty tomb show the world it’s a lie.
But empires and bigshots are still trying. And, if I’m honest with myself, I can have some of that kind of unholy anger and fear in my own heart. Maybe you do too? Singing God’s praise helps keep that anger in check, to be sure. So let’s keep on doing that as long we are able.
But we need more than that to nurture our love for neighbors and ourselves. So, let’s keep our eyes and hearts open to the angels among us saying “do not be afraid.” We all have fear, and need those words.
Where are these angels, you ask? Everywhere. They might be harder to recognize than the big one with the shining robe, but they are among us.
As some of you know, I volunteer at the AIO food pantry. It’s possible Carolyn thinks I’ve gone off to Galilee for the amount of time I spend there. I suppose Bruce thought the same for the years Sherry spent there. And Betty probably thinks that of Ted’s time spent working with them. And many others. Mimi’s there in Galilee with me, as are many neighbors from all over. Some of us pack and deliver food to peoples’ homes. Some of us come there to get food for our families.
Some of us take direction from Rob, the market director as we unpack pallets of food and stock the shelves. Rob is, umm, passionate about stocking the market. Rob insists that every shelf must look good and have something nutritious on it, even when supplies are running low. He really cares how the place looks. We volunteers joke that the way to annoy him is to turn a few cans of beans around so the bar code is visible. Rob’s mission is this: guests know, with no doubt, that there’s more than enough food for everybody.
I was working the front desk for the first time on a dangerously cold Saturday a couple of months ago. One of the things the desk worker does is welcome and enroll first-time guests. A woman, Janet I think her name is, walked in with a kindergarten-aged boy, Evan. She said she’d been waiting in her car until the market emptied out and other guests had left. So she wouldn’t be seen.
Janet said she felt guilty for being there. In wondering how to respond, I remembered our congregation’s welcome statement, “with you here we’re closer to what God is calling us to be.” I wanted to say that, but you know, for some people churchy talk is a stumbling block.
I think I said something like, “no, no, no, AIO exists for you, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Let me show you around.” At any rate, the shelves were stocked to Rob’s exacting standards. Little Evan thought the walk-in fridge full of apples and strawberries and eggs and milk was pretty nice, maybe not so much the broccoli. Since then they’ve been back every couple of weeks. Yes! Another child has enough to eat. Score!
This experience has made me understand something. Rob is the angel. He doesn’t wear a shining robe, instead an old Red Sox cap. He rolls away the stone of shame for hungry people. Rob is the angel saying “do not be afraid.” He teaches us volunteers what plenty looks like. And by that plenty he makes manifest the words “do not be afraid.” to people like Janet who arrive in fear. He’s an angel for me too, reminding me to put aside my fears, to stand up, to get to work, to go to Galilee.
I am sure you all have met angels like Rob. Many many people, by their deeds, say to the world what the angel said:
Do not be afraid. Stand up in joy and go to your Galilee. Jesus awaits you there, and is with you to the end of the age.”
Many angels say that. Sometimes we recognize them, but even the ones we don’t recognize are proclaiming that good news. Those angels are everywhere. They are you and me.
“Do not be afraid” . Easy to say, hard to do. Let us support one another in following those instructions. Let us each set down our own burden of anger and fear. Because we are those angels.
Without that burden weighing us down, you and I have the strength of angels. We can roll away stones of death, sin and evil. Without that burden, we have the courage to pass on those words of good news, “do not be afraid”, to our neighbors. Without that burden, you and I have the strength to travel together to our Galilee, for there we will see the risen Jesus.
This is a big job. So let’s get to it, fellow angels. Let’s go roll away some stones and pass on the good news:
Christ is risen! Hallelujah.