Intermingling

Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Theme: "Intermingling”

The Resurrection of The Lord/Easter Day

April 24, 2011

First Presbyterian Church

Denton, Texas

Rev. Paul R. Dunklau

In the Name of Jesus

¹ After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb.

² There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. ³ His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. ⁴ The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

⁵ The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. ⁶ He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. ⁷ Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.”

⁸ So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples. ⁹ Suddenly Jesus met them. “Greetings,” he said. They came to him, clasped his feet and worshiped him. ¹⁰ Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Not much changed except everything. After all the high drama of the betrayal, arrest, trial, execution, death, and burial of Jesus, two women – both named Mary – woke up Sunday morning to life without Jesus. He was not good as dead. He was dead, period. That much was certified by the Roman government. In order to ward off any further instances of high drama, in the hope of putting a stop to any possible shenanigans, the government had even agreed to seal the tomb and to place guards around it. Whether or not the women knew this, we are not told. What we are told is that they went, at dawn on the first day of the week, to look at the tomb.

When the hopeful course your life is taking comes to an abrupt halt, when your fondest hopes and dreams lay shattered as so much broken glass at the foot of your heart, what do you do? It was the first Sunday morning of the rest of their lives without Jesus.

When nothing changes except everything, what do you do? You do what you determine to be the right thing to do that is right there in front of you to do – whatever it may be. When life takes a dramatic turn, some people simply cannot do anything at all; they lose the power of choice. They are shocked, stunned, and even immobilized. These two women, though, did not fit that description. They had not lost the power of choice. They went to the grave. I say that that was a gutzy move. You can discover many interesting things about many interesting people when you find out what motivates them to do what they do and why. What motivated the women? Perhaps it was their loyalty to Jesus even though He was certifiably dead. It could have been propriety or tradition. When a family member or friend dies, you seek to pay your respects – a civilized and caring thing to do. It could have been something as simple as curiosity. Who knows what motivated them? I’ve outlined a few possibilities. Take your pick, or come up with one of your own!

More certain is what they expected to see: a grave. From this, we can deduce what they did not expect to see – or experience, for that matter. They didn’t expect more drama. Death, in our experience, is anti-drama; death itself is pure silence. That much the women knew, and we do too. After the flat-line registers on the monitor and the machines are turned off, there is silence, deafening silence. The only sounds that ensue come from those who remain: from the ones who mourn and the ones who console. There was no other place that they wanted to be than there for one another at the tomb of Jesus to mourn and to console. If we stopped right there in the story, that pretty well says what we might reasonably conclude.

What happened next is, among other things, what we are here to celebrate this morning. We’re not here to become better at grieving or better at caring. We’re here for something else. It all started with a violent earthquake.

The last time I heard about a violent earthquake, which happened most recently in Japan, I was certainly not in the mood to celebrate. But today is different, isn’t it? I rejoice that there was a violent earthquake on that first Easter. I celebrate what the Gospel gives me to believe: that an angel of the Lord came down amid that earthquake. I am ecstatic that the aforementioned angel rolled back that damnable stone and sat upon it like it was Lazyboy recliner. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. It tickles me to no end that those Roman guards were so afraid of this mighty angel that they shook; they all but went into convulsions, and became like dead men. I draw strength from the image in my mind of these powerful soldiers – the best the Roman empire had to offer – curled up in the fetal position as a result of what your God, my God, and our God did that day! On the first Good Friday, we saw religion and politics at their very worst. On the first Holy Saturday, religion and politics attempted to solidify their gains. But on Sunday, through a violent earthquake and the descent of an angel of the Lord, God called a halt to all the puffery of religion and politics and reduced it to the fetal position.

And the angel spoke. That angel had words to say not to the mighty soldiers lying there in fear of their lives. Instead, first word goes to the women: “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him. Now I have told you.”

It is not what motivated the women or even our speculation about what drove them to the tomb that matters at all. The Lord’s angel answered the question: “You are looking for Jesus,” he said. If we can clear away the cobwebs and peel back the onion, what are we really hunting for on this Easter Sunday, eggs? No, in our heart of hearts we’re hunting for an answer. More than that, as a matter of ultimate reality, we want the answer – whatever it is – to include us and to be victorious!

My friends, it’s all yours this morning –right here and right now. There’s a seat at the victor’s table for you.

While the soldiers were left trying to get their bearings straight, the women left; they hurried away from the tomb. The Gospel says they were “afraid yet filled with joy.” Fear and joy: those were the emotions. They were doing a little dance in their hearts. Have you ever felt like that? Have you experienced mixed emotions? Oil and water do not mix, but emotions often do; they intermingle. And we try to identify them, put them in the right order, pinpoint them on a flowchart, and highlight them in a PowerPoint presentation. Skip it.

When nothing changes except everything, there can most definitely be the emotion of fear. But when the everything that has changed is the finality of death, who cannot also be joyful this day? For Christ is risen! He beat death at its own game. And, believing in His victory, an unconquerable and indestructible life is ours.

As our women hurried away from the tomb, as their emotions of joy and fear are intermingled, there’s yet more drama! Look at who they suddenly run into: It’s Jesus! Jesus met them, we are told. The risen Jesus, taking fear out of the intermingled mix, said: “Greetings!”

What a great day this is at First Presbyterian Church! Jesus Christ greets us too – in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup. Whether our friendships are old, new, or yet to be forged, we greet one another as victors this Easter, for Christ is risen; life wins, and joy carries the day!

Amen.