Resurrection Dust

March 27, 2016 - Easter Day

One of the alfombras in Antigua, Guatemala.


After the procession.

Luke 24:1-35

24 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.

13 Now on that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, 14 and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. 15 While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, 16 but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. 17 And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. 18 Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” 19 He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, 20 and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. 21 But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. 22 Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, 23 and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. 24 Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” 25 Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! 26 Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” 27 Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

28 As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. 29 But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. 30 When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. 31 Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. 32 They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” 33 That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. 34 They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Sermon:  “Resurrection Dust”

Easter is celebrated in some very curious ways throughout the world.

If you lived in Bermuda, you’d fly a colorful, cross-shaped kite to symbolize Jesus’ resurrection and ascension. 

If you lived in Hungary, you’d throw buckets of cold water on women to keep them “fresh.”  Hmm.

If you lived in Corfu, Greece, you’d smash pottery by flinging it from your windows onto the street below at exactly 11 a.m., symbolizing getting rid of old things in preparation for the new.  (A good incentive to be indoors in church at 11 a.m., so as not to get knocked out, I’d say!)

If you lived in Norway, you’d embrace the mystery and intrigue of Jesus’ sentencing, crucifixion and resurrection by reading a crime novel.

My favorite tradition I discovered comes from Antigua, Guatemala.

If you lived in that small town, surrounded by volcanoes, you would make intricately beautiful, mile-long carpets out of colored sawdust and local plants.

People in Antigua, Guatemala work tirelessly making these alfombras, covering the old cobblestoned streets with a solid layer of sawdust and then topping that with vibrant patterns of Mayan and Christian symbols.  Whole neighborhoods work together to make mile-long carpets, while families make smaller carpets.  The carpets are regularly sprayed with water to keep the colored sawdust from being swept away by the wind before the right moment.  That moment comes at 4 a.m. on Good Friday.

What has taken days and days of painstaking labor disappears in a matter of minutes, as a great procession tramples all over the makeshift carpets, leaving nothing but piles of sawdust in their wake.  Come Easter morning, all that remains are remnants of sawdust scattered between old cobblestones.  What was beautiful and brilliant was also fleeting and fragile.  Which is why this is my favorite Holy Week tradition I came across.

Because that’s what Easter – today – is, isn’t it?  Beautiful and brilliant resurrection in the midst of feeling and fragile life. 

We hear this in Luke, where the resurrection was a beautiful sight: with dazzling angels and bold words, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.”  The women went to tell the disciples this amazing news, but it was as if they had trampled the beautiful carpets on their way: these men didn’t see for themselves, so they didn’t believe it.  Except Peter, who, ever the eager beaver, ran to check out that tomb himself.

We then encounter two disciples walking to Emmaus. They walk away from the place of the resurrection, but, as Gerhard Von Rad put it, “they are turning away from Jesus, but they are still talking about him.”  It seems the dust of the resurrection still clings to their sandals.  Jesus comes, and they are kept from recognizing him.  After all, there’s no leftover dazzle at this point in our story – it’s trampled away into folklore.  All that remains is a dusty travel companion, a stranger, in the Greek, an “alien.”  The dust of that resurrection scandal swirls around them as they tell the story to this stranger, not knowing it’s his story, saying they wish they could believe it. 

Jesus, irritated by their persistent doubt, weaves that resurrection story into the story of all of scripture, like crafting a beautiful alfombra.  Still, they don’t see him for who he is.  But they do a remarkable thing anyway: they ask him to stay, ‘because it is almost evening.’  You see, just a touch of that resurrection dust is a powerful thing.  It can make grieving, worried people invite a foreigner into their home.  It can make people who think evil has won defeat it with the simple act of welcoming a wanderer instead of leaving him alone in the dark. 

And then the guest becomes the host, as Jesus takes bread, blesses it and breaks it, as he’s done with them so many times before.  For a beautiful, fleeting moment, they see him as he is.  Their risen Lord!  But just as quickly as that resurrection recognition comes, it is gone.  Jesus disappears.  Beautiful and brilliant resurrection in the midst of fleeting and fragile life. 

It turns out, just a taste of resurrection is all it took.  That Easter table became a sending table, and out they went, presumably right into the dark night, no longer fearing it, to tell the good news, “The Lord is risen indeed!”

Sometimes, we long for a resurrection that will last.  An Easter that will be burned into our hearts in such a way that we never fear darkness again.  But it seems Easter comes to us in less constant ways, like those beautiful alfombras in Antigua.  We are surprised with vibrantly-colored, radiant life and then, almost as soon as we’ve seen it, that life seems to disappear before our eyes.  So it has always been, from the very first Easter.  This is not because God is impatient or indifferent or inconstant. 

This is because Easter is such a powerful thing – the resurrection of Jesus to raise us all with him – is such a powerful thing, that even the tiniest taste of it can change a life.  Like the cracks between those weathered cobblestones in Antigua, our lives hold remnants of this resurrection, and often, we don’t even notice them.  Our eyes are kept from recognizing Jesus, just like those disciples.  Grief will do that.  Fear will do that.  Hatred will most definitely do that. 

And so, we do what those doubting disciples did: we come to a table, where bread is broken and shared, where all the strangers are welcomed in from the dark, and we find that our hearts have been burning within us all along (it’s just we’ve been too distracted and afraid to notice).  And then we go, into the fearful night, flinging resurrection dust all the way and proclaim that most wonderful of news: “the Lord is risen!  He is risen indeed!”  Alleluia!  Amen.