Rolling Stones

April 20, 2014 - Easter Sunday

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.”

Sermon: “Rolling Stones”

We’ve heard the resurrection story from Matthew so many times, right?  We know it backwards and forwards don’t we?

It goes like this:  2 guards hang out by Jesus’ cave grave.  Mary Magdalene and another Mary go to see the tomb early in the morning.  Suddenly there’s an earthquake, a blindingly bright angel descends from heaven, the stone is rolled away, and that angel has a seat on it.  Then Jesus is raised from the dead.  The ladies see him and he tells them to go and tell the others.

Pretty much how we remember it, right?  So I can just wrap this sermon up now?

Well, no.  You see, that’s not actually what happens in Matthew.  All of those dramatic events we hear about: earthquake, angel swooping in, stone rolling away, are not preludes to the resurrection.  They’re postludes.  They happen after Jesus has already been raised in this text.  The angel speaks to those faithful women in past tense, “He is not here, he has been raised.” 

And when that stone rolls away, Jesus doesn’t come walking out.  That tomb is already empty!  The women don’t even see Jesus until after they leave the tomb, and are on their way to tell the good news that Jesus is alive, purely on faith (without having witnessed him alive for themselves).  Only after they’ve taken such a faithful step does the risen Christ appear to them.

So why all the drama?  Why does the resurrection need the dramatic effects: the earthquake, the glowing angel, the rolling stone?

Full of these questions about all of this smoke and mirrors stuff in our story, I did the obvious thing: I asked a magician friend of mine.  (He also happens to be a Presbyterian pastor.)  And no, don’t worry, I will not at any point this morning be saying that the resurrection was some sort of elaborate magic trick by God.  But I do wonder how drama serves to help us grasp the impossible, or believe the unbelievable.

My magical friend said this:

“Sometimes, a flash/bang device is used for distraction, and sometimes it's just used for dramatic emphasis.  It can be used to direct someone's attention AWAY from something, but it can also be used to direct someone's attention TOWARD something - as if to say in dramatic fashion, "Hey!  Look at this!  This is really important!"

In his opinion the angel and corresponding earthquake and stone rolled away were pointing to the more important thing happening: that Jesus was raised from the dead. 

So, I can’t help but re-read this familiar story from Matthew in this way:

The resurrection had already happened.  It happened sometime before those women arrived at the tomb, it happened while those guards were completely unaware, perhaps catching a pre-dawn nap.  It happened quietly, invisibly, actually.  No one seemed to notice it at the time.  But when there were people who God wanted to recognize what happened, God pulled out all the stops, like how a magician trys to draw attention to something really important.  Angel descending, earthquake, rolling stone – Jesus didn’t need these in order to be raised from the dead.

But those women needed the flash/bang effect.  They needed the drama so that they wouldn’t miss what God had already done.  And they needed the angel to tell them those six words of what Easter is really all about: “Do not fear! Go and tell.”

And in the going, to do the telling, they caught up with the resurrected Christ, who was already going on ahead of them.  He echoes those same essential six Easter words, “Do not fear!  Go and tell.”  And those two women do just that.  And because they do, millions of people gather this day to celebrate the good news that Jesus is alive, including us.

But though we gather to celebrate this good news, we do not do it because the resurrection happens just today, or because it happened once-upon-a-time over 2,000 years ago.  We gather because resurrection is still happening, over and over again, often before we even realize what God is doing, many times in such quiet, subtle ways it’s easy to miss.  But God knows that we human beings aren’t so good at quietness and subtlety when it comes to faith. 

We like the drama – we crave the glowing heavenly being, the foundations of the earth shaking, the rolling stone.  I don’t think we crave this resurrection drama because we’re addicted to high drama television and having our senses be constantly over-stimulated by technology (though we of course are). 

I think we need a dramatic resurrection because the forces of death are so very dramatic in this world: there is nothing quiet or subtle about war, hunger, poverty, cancer, bullying or broken relationships.  The forces of death are loud. 

And so we need the forces of resurrection – of new life – to be even louder.  Give us the smoke and mirrors, give us the ground shaking beneath our feet, give us the tangible presence of heaven, give us the impossibility of a weighty stone rolled away so that we might believe that new life is also possible.  We do not want a whispering Easter, we want a Rolling Stone Easter, that sings over and through all that deals death in our world and our lives, overpowering all of that noise. 

Sometimes, like those women that day, we are lucky.  Sometimes, God brings resurrection with all the fanfare so that we realize that something really important has happened, and we can’t miss it.  We awake one day and suddenly find that all of our anger and bitterness has been rolled away from our hearts like a stone we thought would never budge. 

But I think just as often, God brings quiet resurrections, resurrections we might not even fully see until we let go of our fear and go tell someone the good news we are so desperate for ourselves.  Those women were prepared to go and tell of the resurrection before they actually saw it.  So must we.  For still, it is in the going and the telling (not in the sitting and the pondering) that we really encounter our Risen Lord.

However Easter comes to us, quietly or loudly, we do know this: it comes first.  God’s resurrection power is already at work, already bringing new life, already defeating the forces of death in our midst.  Because the Risen Lord is still going ahead of us, leaving resurrection in his wake. 

And he is still speaking those same six Easter words to us, speaking into our worries and doubts, into our illness and exhaustion and anger: “Do not fear, go and tell.”  Whether those resurrection words of hope are loud and obvious or subtle whispers, we can be sure of this: even whispers of God’s resurrection have more power than the loudest shouts of death in this world. 

Even hints of new life through Jesus Christ are enough to fill the darkest places of grief and fear with glorious light.  

Even echoes of Easter are enough to roll away our heavy stones of worry and despair. 

Christ is risen! Do not fear, God and tell.  Alleluia! 

Amen.