"A Resurrection Tale"

1 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.

Luke 24:1-12

“A Resurrection Tale”

“It seemed to them an idle tale.” You know, I’ve read this story hundreds of times, but these words really jumped out at me this week. It must have seemed an idle tale. I, we, can only begin to imagine how idle, how unreal, it must have sounded when Mary Magdalene and Joanna and the other Mary shared the news of the empty tomb. These women were standing before the disciples, women who had seen their friend, their leader, their love die before their very eyes, women who had heard the sounds of the hammer hitting the nails, women who had seen Jesus’ head fall as he breathed his last, women who had wept and mourned bitterly. These women were swallowed up in grief, and the disciples could barely hold their heads up above the water over what they had just experienced 3 days earlier. So much going on, so much that they all experienced, so this news of an empty tomb must have sounded unreal, false—it must have sounded like an empty hope entombed with grief, must have sounded unbelievable.

To all of them gathered there that day, this tale must have sounded like an idle one. And in so many ways, it seems an idle tale to those of us who are gathered here today—so hard to believe, so hard to take in, so hard to understand how the linen cloths could be the only thing left in the tomb. Just as those gathered there over 2000 years ago had experienced such horror and terror and grief, we experience much the same thing today. We live in a world that struggles with so much—with the ravages of war, with the horrors of poverty and hunger, with the long term effects of racism and sexism, with folks who are left in shambles after a loved one is gone from their lives, with deep divides over how we treat each other in our political lives, with the effects of natural disaster, with long held divisions over how we believe in and proclaim God. In so many ways, it is natural for this tale of resurrection, of hope, of grace, of overwhelming and unconditional love, to seem unbelievable. To seem impossible. To seem untrue. To seem idle.

But we have to believe, don’t we? We have to go into the tomb with the women and see the linen cloths left behind. We have to believe that Christ is not there because he has been resurrected. We have to believe this for our stories, for our lives to be real. We have to believe that this is not an idle tale but instead a resurrection one. I have read it put this way:

…if this was an idle tale, then we must acknowledge that we live in a world where love is sentimental and powerless. If the tale is idle and Jesus is not raised from the dead, then we live in a world where there is no power stronger than the sin that kills us…if the womens’ story is just an idle tale, then there is no power that can break those bonds, and we may as well be wound round with our own gravecloths (Karen Pidcock-Lester).

I love that. If this tale of resurrection is not true in our lives, then we might as well be dead in the tomb with Christ. We might as well not live in our world, not thrive in our world, not act in our world, not love in our world.

 If this is an idle tale, then we have nothing to say to our neighbors in Newtown who are mourning the unexplainable loss of such sweet and innocent life. If this is an idle tale, then we have nothing to say to the folks in our community who are longing for the human right of having a roof over their heads. If this is an idle tale, then we have nothing to say to our service men and women who have been away from their families for many weeks and months over the past 10 years. If this is an idle tale, then we have nothing to say to our friends and mission partners in Mexico and Haiti. If this is an idle tale, we have nothing to say to the members of our church family who are sick and shut-in and hurting and sad and hurting. If this is an idle tale, we have nothing to say to the children in our midst to whom we have made baptismal vows and promises.

But, friends, the great news of this Easter day, of this day of resurrection, is that we do have something to say, something to believe, something to proclaim and celebrate—that life triumphs over death, that this is no unbelievable, idle tale. This is a very alive, very true, very real tale of resurrection. Jesus Christ has come back to life for all of us—to proclaim recreation, to proclaim new life, to proclaim hope, to proclaim the overwhelming power of love found in resurrection.

This resurrection tale is very true for a couple in our own midst who have been praying and hoping and discerning and waiting for the past 6 hard years to adopt a child, a couple who will be the most delightful and fun and loving parents. The tale is being lived out in their lives in the form of an acquaintance of theirs who went to China several weeks ago, to a random and unnamed orphanage, not knowing whose child was there waiting to be held. As she and her mom played with the kids, her mom heard a worker say: “This is the Tamblyn baby.” In disbelief and wonder, she proclaimed, “As in John Tamblyn from Alabama, my former teacher?” How amazing is that? This young woman traveled all the way around the world, where she held her teacher’s daughter, the daughter who will be here in May. That is a tale of resurrection.

This resurrection tale is very true for a dear friend of ours, a friend who experienced the awful and tragic loss of her husband 5 years ago, just 3 weeks after they were married. She experienced such death and loss and confusion and tragedy, but she is now married with a beautiful, sweet, funny, loving little boy and a second little one on the way. What new life in the midst of death. That is a tale of resurrection.

This resurrection tale is very true for two little girls in Colorado, whose grandmother took her life last month after experiencing such loss and sadness and tragedy. This grandmother went to the post office quite often before her life came to an end and was so lovely to one of the workers there that she befriended. That postal worker asked a church member of ours for the address of those sweet grandchildren this week so that she could send those two little girls an Easter gift and tell them the story about how lovely their grandmother was to her. That is a tale of resurrection.

This resurrection tale is very true for two of our students who lost their dear father last year after a valiant battle with cancer. Their world was rocked and changed forever, but even in the midst of their mourning, they are still here with us working with our youth, going on mission trips, playing basketball, going to the beach with their friends, giggling and telling stories and laughing their hearty laughs. And they are about to graduate and go to work and graduate school—with their very proud dad beaming down to them. That is a tale of resurrection.

This resurrection tale is very true for the new friends we met in Haiti, whose orphanage crumbled to the ground around them a little over three years ago, crumbled as they stood and watched their home fall apart. This is their fourth Easter day since that awful January day, and they have a new home, one that is secure and built deep into the ground, one that is very colorful and welcoming and warm, one that is painted brightly with butterflies adorning the side to remind them of the power of resurrection. A tale of resurrection, indeed.

We have a choice. We can sit and stare at each other idly in disbelief, letting ourselves believe that the world is too scary, that miracles don’t happen in our midst, believing that it is easier to stay locked up in our rooms, to stay enclosed in our tombs, than to open the doors and believe in the power of resurrection. We can indeed believe that this tale is an idle one. Or we can listen to what the women of our lives tell us and go with Peter to the empty tomb. We can go to find that the linen cloths are the only thing left behind, and we can believe in the miracle of resurrection, in the miracle of recreation, in the miracle of new life. We can believe and celebrate and proclaim that this tale is a tale of resurrection.

When we choose to believe that this is a tale of resurrection, we can see all of the bright colors in our midst with new eyes, especially the liturgical white color of holiness. We can laugh with our children today, our children who are so hyper and happy and excited, laugh at their squeals of delight. We can come to the table as we are invited and celebrate that it is indeed set for us all. We can delight in the new life that comes with Spring. We can smell the lilies in our midst that remind us of God’s glorious act of creation. We can see the cross before us with new eyes and minds and hearts, ready to celebrate and proclaim that we have seen a miracle, a tale of resurrection. And because we have been amazed at all that has happened, we can leave this place and go out into the world, serving and loving as people of the resurrection. Thanks be to God.