Tuesday, April 2, 2024

Sermon: As Good as Dead

 Mark 16:1-8
As Good as Dead
James Sledge                                                                                     March 31, 2024 

“Jesus Christ is risen today, Alleluia!” The tomb is empty! Christ is alive! It is the day of resurrection! Tell all the good news. Easter is here, the biggest day on the Church calendar.

As a result, most of us know well the story of Easter morning. Jesus had been executed, dying late on Friday, which was just before the Sabbath day began at sundown. And so his burial was accomplished in a hurry. There was little time for putting spices and perfumes on his body as was the practice. It was almost Sabbath, when all work and unnecessary activity ceased. What a strange Sabbath it must have been for Jesus’ followers.

When the Sabbath ended on Saturday evening, some of the women who followed Jesus began thinking about what they could do to give Jesus a decent burial when it got light enough to go out. They bought some spices so that they could anoint his body. They wanted to do what little they could for him.

As soon as the sun was up on Sunday morning, they headed to the tomb with their spices. Now they would have their chance to properly mourn their loss, to properly prepare Jesus’ body, and to pay their last respects. As they went, they wondered how they would get into the tomb. (The stones that covered tombs were not the large boulders that we sometimes see in paintings. They were more like carved wheels, sometimes as tall as a person. They sat in a groove running along the face of the tomb, and workmen could roll them in it like a wheel. There was a depression in front of the entrance so that once the stone was in place, it took a great deal of effort to get it rolling.) The women had seen the tomb late on Friday, and they knew the stone was too large for them to move. But they were determined to do this last thing for Jesus. They didn’t know how they would get in, but they would.

To their surprise they arrived at the tomb and found the stone already rolled back. This was most fortunate but was also a little disturbing. Why was the tomb standing open? And when they stepped into the tomb they were startled and frightened to see a young, robed man sitting there, like he had been waiting for them. Perhaps he was an angel for he said, “Do not be alarmed.” That’s the sort of things angels always say when they encounter people in the Bible, though it doesn’t seem to have calmed the women all that much.

Then the man tells them the incredible news. “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place where 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.” 

What wonderful, wonderful news. Jesus is risen! And we know how the story goes from here. The women run out to tell the others, to tell everyone, “He has been raised and we will see him in Galilee just as he said would happen.”

But our scripture reading says something quite different. So they went out and fled the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. As hard as it is to fathom, that is how Mark’s gospel ends.

It’s a terribly unsatisfying ending, which likely explains why the Bible contains a couple of endings added later. Many Bibles mark them with the imaginative titles, “The Shorter Ending of Mark” and “The Longer Ending of Mark.” Scholars of all stripes agree that these two endings don’t belong with the original gospel. The only debate is over whether Mark intended to end his gospel this way or the ending was somehow lost. It’s a debate that can’t really be settled. The only thing that can be said for sure is that in God’s providence, the gospel the Church received ends this way: So they went out and fled the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

In Mark’s gospel, there is no joy on Easter morning, no shouts of “He is risen!” only terror, shock, fear, and silence. Not all that surprising when you think about it. Centuries insulate us from the drama of that morning, the raw emotions of going to a friend’s grave and finding it open and empty, a strange man sitting there, saying your friend has been raised.

On top of that, we aren’t much worried about meeting our now risen friend. Jesus is not going to be there when we get back home. No chance he’ll say anything to us about our behavior or ask if we denied him. We’ve got Jesus safely confined to heaven, not running around loose where we might bump into him.

For many of us, Jesus might as well be dead. We’ve heard about him, learned stories about him, are perhaps impressed by some of his teachings, but he doesn’t really intrude into our daily lives. Jesus is no more alive to us than family, friends, and loved ones who’ve died. He’s gone to heaven, unseen by us. In a sense, he’s as good as dead.

I’ve lived my entire life in the Presbyterian Church. That’s less and less common, so I can’t assume that all of you know the stereotypes about Presbyterians, our obsession with doing things “decently and in order,” or of our nickname, “the frozen chosen.” Suffice to say that we have a long history as staid, buttoned-down, well-educated, neck up Christians.

That’s made us suspicious of things that seem overly spontaneous or enthusiastic. We’re uneasy with people doing crazy things because of the Holy Spirit, and we’ve made sure such things don’t happen in our congregations.

Some of our caution is appropriate. We do need to “test the spirits,” as the Apostle Paul wrote, to see which are from God. We do need to confirm that some fit of inspiration does indeed align with the God we meet in Jesus. But we’ve rarely stopped there.

The Holy Spirit didn’t really come up all that often in the churches where I grew up, and decently and in order was usually about maintaining control, making sure nothing happened that we couldn’t manage. No letting the Spirit hijack our worship or other church programs. No danger of bumping into the risen Jesus.

For the very first Christians, meeting the risen Christ was not restricted to those few who were around in the days following the resurrection. By the power of the Holy Spirit, the risen Christ continued to be present to the community of faith. The Apostle Paul goes so far as to say, “Anyone who does not have the Spirit of Christ does not belong to him.” For Paul and the other early Christians, there was new life in Christ because Christ dwelled in them through the Spirit. Christ was alive, not safely sequestered off in heaven for all eternity. He was present in the here and now, really and truly alive.

I wonder if Annie Dillard, Pulitzer Prize winning author of Pilgrim at Tinker Creek, was thinking of such things when she wrote,

On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning. It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets. Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return.[1]

I think the women at the tomb understood this better than we do, and so they had the good sense to be a little frightened. If Jesus was alive, God had indeed stirred. This had never happened before. Resurrection is not reanimation. It is not going to heaven when you die. It is the raising of the dead at the end of time. If Jesus had truly been resurrected, then a new age was breaking in. Everything had changed. Of course the women experienced terror and fear. Life would never be the same again.

Christ is risen! Not he died and went to heaven, but he IS risen! IS. And in our baptisms we are joined to the risen Christ, and he dwells in us. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! And the risen Christ calls us to follow him, to be his body in the world, so that the world may know that he lives.

Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia! Thanks be to God.



[1] Dillard, Annie. Teaching a Stone to Talk: “Expeditions and Encounters,” (New York: HarperCollins, 2007) Kindle Edition p. 49.

 

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