We all know that Easter is about the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.
But there are times when we seem to think of resurrection primarily in otherworldly terms, as an idea connected with what happens to us after death. That is, a person passes away and — with whatever strands of confidence and conviction and hope that we can bring ourselves to muster through the veil of our tears, at such difficult times – we declare that we can live in the sure and certain hope of resurrection to eternal life. We claim to believe that their suffering is finished; that their journey in this world is complete; and that they pass through death into God’s tender and everlasting embrace. They have died, and we struggle to hope, to trust, to believe that a resurrected life is theirs, for all of eternity.
And of which is true, and all of which is good.
But there are times when it can be good to remember that the Easter story invites us to see the resurrection slightly differently – not to minimize or deny or take away from our hope of a life beyond this life, but to remember, first, that Jesus’ resurrection took place in this world.
The way that the original stories of the resurrection were told all point to this reality. Some of the details that they included were slightly different from each other, but a shared conviction was that something significant, striking and surprising took place on that first Easter morning. At least one of the ancient manuscripts of Mark’s Gospel did not include any detailed resurrection appearances, while the other Gospel writers present many different details about what people saw and experienced a few days after his death. Today’s reading from Matthew suggests that Jesus encountered the women as they ran from the tomb to tell the disciples what they had found; while Luke’s Gospel suggests that Jesus was first encountered by two of his followers while they journeyed on the road to Emmaus. John’s Gospel, by contrast, has multiple appearances – to Mary as she wept, alone, in the garden outside of the empty tomb, to the twelve who were huddled behind locked doors and then to Thomas who said that he would not believe until he had seen and touched Jesus’ scars, to his friends and disciples on the seashore over a breakfast meal. Lots of details, lots of stories, lots of accounts of people who saw a man who was supposed to be dead.
But regardless of how we might read and interpret and understand all of these different details of the Gospel stories, the point ultimately boils down to this.
The Gospel writers wanted to make one thing clear — it happened in this world.
Jesus’ followers were not lifted into some mystical realm where they saw and touched and experienced him, nor were they carried away into some visionary experience of heaven. Rather, their lives were transformed and changed by those experiences – right there and then, in this world.
Which must have been startling to them.
After all, they had seen the pain and anguish that he had endured. They knew that he had suffered incredibly; they knew that all hope, for him, was lost; they knew that his ideas and visions had failed; they knew that the kingdom that he kept talking about was not going to come; they knew that he had died.
And they thought – quite legitimately – that these powerful, horrible realities were the end of the story. Pain, anguish, fear, cowardice, suffering, despair, failure, death – who can stand in the face of those awful realities, which seemed to have triumphed, so decisively, over him?
But those difficult reality had not triumphed. Their friend had gone right down into the heart of those terrible, daunting, difficult human experiences, and he had emerged victorious.
And they had seen him again, in this world. The Gospel writers, perhaps a few decades later, tried to compile the stories that they had heard in the aftermath of his crucifixion. Stories about how his friends and followers had talked with him, eaten with him, walked the journey with him, how their faith was renewed when he confirmed, through sight and touch, that he was real, and not simply some figment of their imaginations.
Which should provide a degree of inspiration to each one of us.
After all, there are times in every one of our lives when we need to be reminded that the power and the hope of the resurrection is not simply about what we believe will happen to us after we die.
Rather, to live as a people of the resurrection is, by its very nature, to live with the awareness and with the hope that the most terrible, daunting and difficult experiences of this life will not and shall not have the ultimate claim upon us.
A resurrected life — for each and every one of us – is meant to shape our life, here and now, every bit as much as it shapes our hopes for eternity.
Which does not mean that we get to avoid the terrible, daunting and difficult experiences that are a part of our experience in this world – experiences that sometimes seem to have the ultimate claim upon us – the pain and loss of loved ones; the anguish of estrangement and failure; the soul-crushing experiences of uncertainty and illness; the challenges and struggles of a world in which violence, abuse, addictions, exploitation, hunger, poverty and injustice seem so overwhelmingly present and so overwhelmingly powerful.
Without doubt, there are terrible, daunting and difficult experiences that can lead us – in very real and very tangible ways – to be able to resonate and relate to Jesus’ anguished cry from the cross, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me????
We cannot avoid those realities, any more than Jesus was unable to avoid those realities. But therein lies the journey of the Easter season – the journey from Good Friday to Easter morning, which neither negates the reality of human suffering, nor allows it to claim victory.
To get to Easter morning without Good Friday is misleading and dangerous, because it invites us to embrace the joy of resurrection without ever staring into the face of suffering, which leaves us with a shallow spirituality.
But equally, to resonate with the suffering of the cross without realizing that the cross has been emptied of its terrible, daunting and difficult power in the glorious vision of the empty tomb is equally misleading and dangerous, because it leaves us without an inspiring hope.
We need to keep these two experience inextricably linked. For once we have stood at the foot of the cross, once we have realized that Jesus knew the pain of suffering, once we have come to accept that anguish and despair are realities, in our lives and in our world, we are then ready to hear the good news.
And it is this. Not only for all of eternity, but in this world, Christ has triumphed over over all that seeks to rob of the joy, the peace, the life and the love that God intends us to know and to share. By turning towards Christ, in trust and in faith, we turn ourselves towards the One who offers us the power to rise above, to rise again, to live again – regardless of the burdens that we bear.
There is no way that I can know what burdens, what pains, what struggles, what anxieties any of you are carrying with you on this bright Easter morning. But what I can tell you is this – there is One who has the power to help you; there is One who loves you with a death-defying love; there is One who has descended into depths of human suffering and despair, and has emerged triumphant and victorious; and it is that same One who is calling to you, even now. It is that same one who spoke words that each and every one of us are invited to hear, this day and every day of our lives.
Come to me, all you that are weary and carrying heavy burdens,
And I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me;
For I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.
It is in responding to that invitation that we begin the journey to a resurrected life – in this world; and to a resurrected life forevermore.
Thanks be to God.
Amen.
