Monday, April 27, 2015

How We Know Love

April 26th, 2015                         “How We Know Love”                   Rev. Heather Jepsen
1 John 3:16-24 with Psalm 23
          Poor Henry Croes has been complaining about the Psalms he has been assigned all month long.  One might think I threw him a bone this week in giving him what is arguably everyone’s favorite Psalm to read, but this Sunday the 23rd Psalm is actually in the lectionary.  The fourth Sunday after Easter is sometimes called “Shepherd Sunday” and always features a reading of the 23rd Psalm and then other shepherd themed texts.
          Although a favorite for funerals, the 23rd Psalm can be a tough sell on Sunday mornings.  It can be hard for a preacher to squeeze out one more observation, one more sermon illustration, or one more witty remark on a text that is so familiar.  This week I chose to pair the reading with another secondary text from the lectionary, the letter of 1st John.  I think that some of the thoughts the author of 1st John offers on love can give us insight back to the famous words of today’s Psalm reading.
          The letter of 1st John has some very powerful statements.  “Little children, let’s not love with word or speech but with action and truth.”  While not an argument for works righteousness, that’s a pretty clear call for a faith that is lived out in a real way in our encounters in the world.  And if we have any question about what this looks like the author offers the following, “If a person has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need and that person doesn’t care – how can the love of God remain in him?”  I joked at lectionary group this week that I was tempted to simply read that one verse this morning and then sit back down and invite us to consider it silently for 10 minutes.  I like to make you uncomfortable, but not that uncomfortable!
          The writer of 1st John is telling us that our faith can’t all be about things that we think or things that we say.  Or faith can’t even simply be about the things that we believe.  Rather, our faith should call us to action in the world.  We are to live in the world in the manner of Jesus Christ, the one who lays down his life for others.  It’s a tall order.
          So, how does this connect with the 23rd Psalm?  Well, I think we love that Psalm so much because it offers us all the things that we want in life, and even in death.  We want a safe place to live, we want plenty of food and drink, we want to be free from harm – even when our enemies are within sight, and we want God’s presence to be with us – even in the darkest of valleys.  We want all of those things for ourselves and for our family members, and we want them badly.  We really want those things. 
And so, in our modern American culture, we do everything we can to get those things for ourselves.  Not only do we work hard to earn the money to buy those things for ourselves, we often knock others down in the process of obtaining those things.  I want plenty of choices for food and drink, and I don’t care that my bottled water is bad for the environment, or that the fellow who picked my tomatoes is an illegal immigrant who lives in a one room house with 20 other men.  I want to be safe in my world, so I amass my own arsenal and I defend my property with weapons, and I don’t care if the support of my right to have a gun also allows the crazy guy down the street to have the same amount of weaponry. 
In our modern American culture, we are taught to take and take what we need from the world and from each other; with no care to the cost those items may have for others in our world.  I want those things, so I am going to make sure that I have them.  When we engage in that behavior, then the Lord is no longer our shepherd.  Rather, we are trying to be our own shepherd.  We are no longer part of the flock, we are no longer part of the community, and we have made ourselves into a solitary individual, a community unto ourselves.  We aren’t sheep in the Lord’s flock anymore; instead we are one person against the world. 
We can grab all we want for those blessings of security and abundance.  We can work until we die to try to obtain them and many people do.  But as long as we maintain control, as long as we are trying to be the shepherd, we will never reach our goal.  We will always be striving, always be wanting, always be working, and never ever be at rest.
Of course, it doesn’t have to be that way.  If the Lord is my shepherd, then I can stop wanting those things.  If God is the one in control, then I can be at rest.  God will provide food and drink, God will provide safety, God will provide guidance and presence.  All of these things can be ours, if we simply stop trying to get them.  As much as we love the comforting thoughts of the 23rd Psalm, it can be a real challenge if we let the Psalm inform the way we live in the world.
If we live the way God would have us live, if we allow the Lord to be our shepherd, then our life would look a lot more like the life of Jesus Christ.  All that language about Jesus laying down his life is language about Jesus allowing God to be in control.  Jesus gave up striving to reach those goals, and God provided Jesus what God intended Jesus to have.  It’s certainly not an easy path, even the Christ prayed that the cup would pass from him, but it is the only path of blessing and peace.
The writer of the letter of 1st John tells us that to follow Christ is to follow this path of life-giving love.  It is to put the needs of others before our own needs.  Perhaps it would be better if we laid down all weapons in the cause of safety for all people.  Perhaps it would be better if I drank water from the tap in a reusable cup every day while thanking God for every drop of water that enters my life.  Perhaps it would be better if I paid more for my tomatoes so that the fellow who picked them could also have the money to buy tomatoes.  Perhaps if I put the needs of others, the needs of the world, before my own needs, then I would get closer to living life like Christ.  Then I would get closer to the place where the Lord is my shepherd.
I like this reading from 1st John because it reminds us of why we do so much of what we do here in the church.  If you are person of logic and reason, it doesn’t take long to start asking questions about why we do the things we do around here.  Like why do we bother supporting the Food Center?  We built that building across the parking lot, we maintain it, and we pay the electric bill.  We, together with others in the community, put food on the shelves and we work the office many days.  We put a lot of time and energy and money into that project that we could easily spend elsewhere.  Why, we could turn that into our office building.  Or we could use that money to fund some other church project.  Or we could rent that space out and start making some money for a change. 
Those would be smart things to do for sure, and the church might benefit from those changes.  But, we would be putting the church before the needs of the people.  We would be putting the life and longevity of the church, before the lives of the people of Warrensburg.  “If a person has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need and that person doesn’t help – how can the love of God remain in him?”
Well, OK, I support the work of the Food Center but what about those trips to Malawi?  Why are we wasting our money there?  Why do we have to visit them again?  Wouldn’t it be better to just send them some money?  These too, are good rational questions.  The church would save a lot of money if we ended our relationship with the people of Malawi.  But that would not be in line with the way of Christ, who lays down his life for others. 
You see, part of laying down a life is laying down a way of life.  Part of engaging with others in love is witnessing a world that we could easily ignore.  Part of following in the path of Jesus Christ is going where we do not have to go.  That is the essence of the nature of Jesus, to go where one does not have to go.  Jesus chooses to join humanity in vulnerable mortal existence.  Jesus chooses to preach an unpopular message that goes against the culture of his day.  And Jesus chooses to suffer death rather than bow to the powers of this world. 
In going to Malawi, we choose to go where we do not have to go.  We choose to be in genuine relationship.  We choose relationships that involve face-to-face conversation and hand shaking, with a people and a culture we could more easily ignore.  We choose to get to know another church and another people as equals, two communities that have gifts to offer each other.  We choose to share with brothers and sisters in need half way around the world because we have the resources, and because this is how we understand the person of Jesus Christ.
In our personal lives and in the life of the church, if we truly want to let the Lord be our shepherd, then we need to let go of some logic and reason.  We need to let go of some desire and direction.  We need to let go of the natural response for self-preservation and let God guide us.  As the writer of 1st John says, “We have confidence in our relationship with God and we strive to do what pleases God.  We believe in the name of Jesus Christ and we strive to love each other as Jesus taught us.”
The writer of 1st John tells us that the true mark of the Christian is not found in the things that we believe, it is not found in the things that we think, and it is not found in the things that we say.  Rather, the true marks of the Christian are found in our actions, they are found in acts of service and in love, they are found in putting the needs of others in our world before the needs of ourselves.  “This is how we know love: Jesus laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.”  This is the true path of faith; this is what it means for the Lord to be our shepherd.  May we have the strength and the courage to follow our Lord, for this is how we will know love.  Amen.

Monday, April 20, 2015

Perspective


April 19th, 2015     “Perspective”      Rev. Heather Jepsen

Luke 24:36-48

          In the church year, this is the third Sunday of Easter.  As I mentioned last week, the season of Easter, of joy and zeal, of rebirth and resurrection lasts for 7 Sundays until the day of Pentecost which falls on Memorial Day weekend this year.  While this extended celebration of Easter may be true on paper and in scripture reading, we must be honest about the fact that the Easter joy generally peters out after just one Sunday in the church.  We have our big Easter morning, our big weekend with our families, and then our minds turn back to other things in our lives.  Now is the time for spring sports, the upcoming end of the school year, thoughts of summer vacation travel, and getting out in the garden.  Easter has come and gone and we are back to the ho-hum hum drum.  Basically, we have lost our Easter perspective.

          That is not the case in our scripture reading.  Luke wants to draw us in and keep us in the Easter moment.  In fact, this text finds us still in the very day and night of that first Easter.  Even though our lived time has moved on, in the Kairos time of the church we remain in that same Easter day. 

The scene is one of chaos as the disciples and first followers are gathered.  The women are talking about the empty tomb, Peter is talking about his experience of the resurrected Lord, and Cleopas and his companion are talking about their experience on the road to Emmaus.  It is as if a storm is brewing; each one telling stories, each one questioning the other, and together they all are working to discern the truth.

          Luke tells us that while they are busy talking, Jesus suddenly appears in their midst.  “Peace be with you” he says, but their response to his presence is anything but peace.  Luke says that those gathered were terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost.  From hurried stories and accusing questions, they have easily moved into a space of fear.  Something strange is going on, something new, and the natural human response is an elevated heart rate, shallow breathing, and wide-eyed fear. 

          Ghosts were a real concern in the ancient world.  Spirits that somehow were trapped in this world were a real threat.  Jesus’ sudden appearance, after folks had seen him die, would certainly make them think he was a ghost.  So, Jesus goes to work quickly dispelling that myth.  Come and touch me, he says, you can’t touch a ghost.  He is not spirit, he is flesh and bone.  He also eats fish in front of them, which doesn’t immediately drop to the floor as in so many cartoon encounters with ghosts.  Rather, the fish appears to be swallowed, residing in the belly of this man.  Jesus makes it clear he is not a ghost, he is something else entirely.  Before he does anything else, Jesus addresses the disciples’ fear.

          It is only after the fear of the group is dispelled, that Jesus goes on with the purpose of this visit.  A mind in fear cannot be opened, and Jesus has come to open their minds.  Jesus has come to give the group some perspective.  He has come to show them that this happening, his death and resurrection, was not a random act.  No, this event, the death and resurrection of the Messiah, was part of a much bigger story.  While the disciples sit with a narrow vision, still a bit afraid and confused, Jesus shows them that the story is much bigger than they are, much bigger than even this moment.  The story of Jesus is the story of their whole faith tradition.

          Preacher Scott Hoezee sums it up well when he writes,
 
As it turns out, the stories of Scripture all form one Big Story.  The Creation account, the narrative cycles involving Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph; the Exodus from Egypt, the wandering in the desert, the conquest of Canaan; the failures of Saul and the successes of David and Solomon; the long and sad period of Israel’s history when kings forgot Yahweh, and then also everything Isaiah and Jeremiah and the others predicted about how God’s faithfulness would transcend the people’s recurrent unfaithfulness—all of those individual stories and passages and predictions and praises and laments were pieces in a narrative jigsaw puzzle that, when you finally put them all together in the right order, created the picture they saw before them that evening in Jerusalem: the Son of God in the flesh and raised victorious from the grave.”

          The disciples needed perspective.  They needed to realize that even though they were afraid, even though this was something they had never seen before, this was the way things were meant to be.  The disciples needed to come out of their fear and get a new perspective.  They needed to realize that they were actually part of one big story, and the story was about everyone, just as it was about them as individuals before the Lord. 

          The same is true for us, especially in our modern culture and society.  It is easy for us to forget the importance of Easter.  To sit here in the Easter slumps thinking more about the spring school season, or the work we need to do in the yard; than we think about the resurrected Lord.  It is easy for us to lose perspective, to forget that Jesus’ death and resurrection was as much about us as it was about the first disciples.  Be it fear, worry, or just plain ignorance, it is easy for us to forget that we too are part of God’s great big story with humanity. 

          Again, Scott Hoezee writes,
 
“Easter does not mean that a better day is coming by and by, that with a little luck we can turn things around in our lives, or that there is no situation so difficult that God cannot dawn upon us a bright new day.  No, Easter means we were made for God.  Easter means we were made for flourishing before the face of our God.  And Easter means that the sin and evil that put up obstacles and yawned open chasms between us and God will not stand.  God will bring all things back to their created intent.  God will restore all things to (Gods-self).  Easter is not only about the end of the cosmic story but is also a vindication of the beginning.”

          The season of Easter, the celebration of the resurrected Lord, is a reminder that God is in control of things.  It is a reminder that there is a cosmic story unfolding before us and we have a part to play.  Nothing, not our fear or our worry, our distraction or our confusion will keep us from God’s love which has been at work throughout creation from the beginning.  The big story about God’s love for the people of God’s creation is also wrapped up with our own big stories about how we were born, how we grew up, and how we became the very people we are in this moment today. 

          I believe that these Easter stories are as much about us as they were about those first disciples.  I love that Jesus comes to them in their moments of fear and confusion and he proves that he is a reality, not just a mirage.  I think that as modern people, removed from the physical presence of Jesus by centuries of time, we often assume that Jesus was just what he takes pains to prove he is not.  In our modern world of science and knowledge, of systems and proofs, we assume that Jesus was a ghost, a mirage, some kind of spirit.  We assume that he was not like us, but that he was something different.

          This text gives us perspective, it points us to something else.  This text challenges us to consider Jesus as a person just like us.  Flesh and blood and bone, a real living person, who eats and sleeps, who gets tired and angry, who has the same physical and emotional needs we do.  Jesus was real, not a ghost.  And in his reality he was wounded.  Again we visit that theme from last week where Jesus comes before the disciples and shows them his wounds.  He is not a superman, rather he is fragile and vulnerable just as we are.

          So often in our lives, we are like those disciples on that first Easter day.  We are afraid, we are confused, and we lack direction and understanding.  As with the early disciples, Jesus comes among us bringing his peace.  And with the gift of his peace, he brings us perspective.  We are part of a great story, a love story, between God and humankind.  And while the story is bigger than us, it is also distinctly about us and about our own personal relationship with God. 

          Like Jesus, we are not simply mirages or spirits.  We are real people with hopes and dreams, with fears and nightmares, with things we can control, and with seemingly insurmountable problems.  Like Jesus we are wounded by our world, for that is essential to the state of human existence.  Vulnerability and woundedness are the truth of who we are, just as they are the truth of who Jesus is.

          Jesus comes to the disciples in their state of fear and unknowing and he brings peace.  He tells them the story of God’s love for humanity, and he tells them about how his life was a part of that story, and about how their own lives are also a part of that story.  Today, we too, are a part of God’s love story with humanity in whatever state we are in.  That gives us some perspective.  Luke writes that the disciples were startled, terrified, frightened, doubting, joyful, and disbelieving; and in all of this they were witnesses.  So too, in whatever state we may be this morning we are witnesses of our risen Lord.  May we have the courage to go out and share this perspective with the world.  Amen.

 

Monday, April 13, 2015

The Risen Lord

April 12th, 2015               “The Risen Lord”          Rev. Heather Jepsen
John 20:19-31
          Of all the disciples mentioned in the scriptures, Thomas gets a bad rap.  Early on he was given the moniker “doubting Thomas” and through the centuries he has been unable to shake it.  Of course, the other disciples could have just as easily been given names.  There’s Nathanael the skeptic, and James and John the power grabbers.  There is Peter the coward, and Philip the stingy.  Even Judas gets a break from his title of betrayer every now and then.  Only Thomas seems to carry his name throughout the ages.
          It’s unwarranted really.  Thomas appears in other places in the gospel and could be known instead for his deep faith.  When the disciples find out about the death of Lazarus, Jesus declares that the crew will go to him and Thomas responds, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”  And later in his last days, when Jesus states that he has prepared a place for the disciples and that they know the way, Thomas in his desire to follow the Lord asks “How can we know the way?”  Thomas could have just as easily have been called Thomas the seeker, rather than Thomas the doubter.
          But, doubter he is, and most famously known for this story which only appears in the gospel of John.  There is a lot to unpack in our reading for today.  The season of Easter continues for seven Sundays in the church year and so our reading brings us right back to where we left off last week.  It is the first day of the week, Easter day, and in the gospel of John, Peter and the beloved disciple have witnessed the empty tomb, and Mary Magdalene claims to have seen the risen Lord outside the grave.
          And yet, despite the rumors of good news, the disciples are locked away behind closed doors.  They are hiding, in fear of the Jews and the Romans, and I would wager in fear of their own shame at abandoning their Lord.  Jesus appears behind the closed doors and it is interesting to note that he is not recognized at first.  The writer of the gospel of John makes it clear that it is only after Jesus shows the wounds in his forearms and in his side that the disciples realize that he is the one who stands among them. 
          Jesus gives the disciples a blessing “Peace be with you” and goes on to breathe upon them, giving the gift of the Holy Spirit.  This is the Pentecost moment for the writer of the gospel of John.  The gathered community is given the power of the church, to preach the gospel of forgiveness of sins in the world and to hold each other accountable for their actions.
          Thomas of course was not there that night, and when the others share their story with him he struggles to believe it.  He too wants the experience that they had, to see with his own eyes that the one he saw wounded upon the cross is now raised to new life.  He is no more doubter than any of the other disciples who refused to believe Mary’s story of encountering Jesus in the garden.  Or even Peter who continues to wonder about the story even though he himself witnessed the empty tomb.
          Strangely, a week later in the story we find the disciples in the same place.  Even though they have been visited by Jesus, even though they have been gifted the Holy Spirit, even though they have been commissioned to go out into the world and be the church; they are still hiding behind locked doors.  Jesus appears again, and where we may expect a word of judgement we once again find grace. 
Jesus again blesses those gathered with his peace and he then offers Thomas the opportunity to touch the very wounds that had broken his mortal body.  The writer of the gospel does not record whether Thomas actually touches the wounded body of Christ or not, but the writer does record Thomas’ great statement of faith, “My Lord and my God!”  Jesus goes on to say blessed are those who have not had such an opportunity and yet come to faith anyway.
          This is a wonderful story because it says so much about the person and nature of Jesus Christ.  First of all, this story tells us that God is the one to seek us out.  Just as in the beginning of the gospel when Jesus called his followers, the movement of God is always a movement toward us, rather than us moving toward God.  They have heard stories of resurrection and yet the disciples are not out seeking the risen Lord.  Jesus is out there somewhere, and yet they remain hidden and locked inside. 
          It is significant that they are not seeking Jesus, they are not looking for God, and they are not taking any actions that we could construe as faith; and yet God comes to them.  God is seeking them out.  God is going where they are.  If they are going to hide behind closed doors, God will find them there.  If they, like Thomas, are going to request a personal appearance of Christ, God is going to make it happen. 
          In our own day and time it is important to remember that faith comes to us as a gift of God, rather than as something we are able seek out for ourselves.  Especially during this Easter season, I know that there are many of us whose thoughts turn to our family members who are not religious.  How we wish we could bring them to church, how we wish we could share our faith in such an articulate way as to convince them of its truth.  And yet, we are unsuccessful. 
It is important to share our beliefs with our friends and neighbors.  Like the disciples, we have been gifted the Holy Spirit and have been commissioned to be the church.  But it is also important to recognize that God must move first, God is the one who will decide when the time is right to enter the locked room of an individual’s heart and win them over with love and grace.
          The second thing that I notice in this passage is the complete lack of judgment.  Poor Thomas has been judged throughout the centuries as one whose faith simply doesn’t measure up.  In labeling him the doubter we have looked down upon him for ages.  And yet, neither Jesus, nor the other disciples in this passage engage in that behavior.  There is no judgement here, only acceptance of Thomas’ heart and his needs for faith.
          In fact, there is ample opportunity for Jesus to be judging all of the disciples in this reading.  He has been tortured, crucified, visited the realms of death, and returned to be with them.  Not only is he not bearing a grudge for his suffering, he doesn’t bear a grudge against the disciples for abandoning him.  Upon seeing them gathered for the first time since their final moments in the garden of Gethsemane, Jesus doesn’t say “Where were you?  Why did you leave me?”  He doesn’t say, “How could you not watch with me?  How could you not admit your love for me?  How could you leave me alone upon the cross to die?”  He doesn’t say, “My friends, why have you forsaken me?  And why do you refuse to believe in my resurrection even now?”  He doesn’t say any number of things I imagine he would say, any number of things that would break the hearts of those gathered together in shame and grief.
          No, Jesus enters the space and says, “Peace be with you.”  Not only does he not rub it in how awful they have been, he actually seeks to assuage their guilt for abandoning him.  “Peace be with you.”  He gives them a gift, he gives them a blessing, and in giving them the Holy Spirit he seeks to give them the courage and confidence that they lack.  It is the ultimate example of forgiveness and grace.  He shows up with his wounds and brings with him the salve of forgiveness rather than the well-deserved sting of judgment.
          His openness in sharing his wounded state is the other moving and valuable piece of this story.  So often in our modern society we cover up and hide that which makes us vulnerable.  Be it our wounded bodies or even our healthy bodies, our culture has taught us to hide away in shame. 
          Just this week I was sharing a story about this with the brown bag group.  When I was in the hospital right after Oliva was born my family was constantly in and out of the room.  While I was breastfeeding I heard a knock on the door and assuming it was my parents I invited the person in.  Well, in walks an 80 something year old man from my church.  Talk about a vulnerable moment, we both felt uncomfortable.  It is hard enough for you old guys when your pastor is woman, let alone having to see her boobs! 
It’s a funny story, but as a leader I can say that I honestly have difficulty being vulnerable.  There is a big part of me that wants to always seem put-together when I stand in front of you as your pastor.  I am embarrassed and ashamed of the parts of my life that aren’t perfect.
          And yet, Jesus models just the opposite.  He comes to the disciples and displays his woundedness.  He shows the places where he has been injured, the parts of his body that are not perfect, and he invites the disciple to share in those wounds.  It is a powerful example of leadership, and it is a powerful challenge to all of us to be more honest about who we are when we are gathered together as the church.  This is the place where it should be OK to share our pain with each other.  This should be the place where we can share our mistakes and vulnerability.  This should be the place where there is peace and forgiveness, and so we should be willing to share our scars in this community.

          Today we gather around the communion table and we remember all the elements of this story.  Jesus was wounded and so we share in his body and blood.  Jesus offers us forgiveness and so we gather as the community of faith, forgiven for our own doubts and disbelief and tasked with forgiving each other.  Jesus comes to us with an invitation.  We are invited to touch and taste our Lord, we are invited to be nourished and fed, and we are encouraged to experience the power of our faith in the tangible elements of bread and wine.  Just as we experience this body of Christ, we are sent out to share this good news and to be the body of Christ in the world around us.
This reading from John gives us a powerful vision of the risen Christ, and a powerful message to us as modern readers.  Like the disciples, we are the church community.  We are commissioned to share our wounds with each other.  We are called to go out and preach the good news of forgiveness.  And we are tasked with the hopeful work of watching for the movement of the Lord in our own lives and in the lives of those around us.  May God be with us as we strive to live into this amazing and wonderful faith.  Amen.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

The Miracle of Good News


April 5th, 2015        “The Miracle of Good News”        Rev. Heather Jepsen
Mark 16:1-8
          No matter which account you read, it was women who came that first morning.  The men had fled earlier, abandoning Jesus long before he hung upon the cross.  The men are public figures; they have more to lose if they are identified with Jesus’ rebellious movement.  Like Peter denying Jesus in the courtyard, the men know that their lives are at risk; so they remain hidden, they remain in the shadows.
          Women though, are of little concern to anybody.  No power, no authority, no resources.  They remain at a distance as Jesus is paraded through the town, and they watch from the sidelines as he gives up his spirit upon the cross.  They are there when Joseph of Arimathea takes down the body and wraps it in linen.  They are watching as he moves the remains of their beloved leader to a tomb, hewn from the rock of a hillside.  And so, after the Sabbath is over, it is the women who rise early to pay their final respects. 
It is really no surprise that it is women who come.  Men are tough, all bravado and brute strength; but women are tenacious and we often work in the messy underbelly of life.  Women are the ones who throughout their lives wipe endless butts, clean up buckets of barf, wash truckloads of laundry, and prepare and clean up years and years of countless meals.  Women are the workers that keep life moving, and so women are the ones who head out to do the dirty work of tending to Jesus’ body that morning at the tomb.
Mark sets the stage with three friends; Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome.  They rise before the sun and prepare the spices for anointing the body.  Although many would say that they have been more faithful than the men of this story, their actions beg to differ.  They are preparing the elements for a body that they assume will be there.  Their lack of belief in Jesus’ promise of resurrection is apparent. 
As they shuffle down the trail that morning, already they carry with them an air of futility and failure.  Spices will do little to cover the cloying stench of a body that has been rotting for three days.  They hardly even believe they will see the body, as they wonder about how they will ever get the stone moved that blocks the entrance to the tomb.  They are without hope, without faith, and yet still they come; looking for some closure to what has certainly been a most painful portion of their lives.
We know well the Easter story, no matter which gospel we are reading it from.  The women come and to their surprise they find that the stone has already been moved.  I am sure their hearts began to pound the moment they realized the tomb had been disturbed.  It is not excitement or joy that flows through their veins; rather it is pure unadulterated fear.  Perhaps the women are not as safe and anonymous as they thought themselves to be.  Perhaps this nightmare with the Roman and Jewish authorities is not over yet.
As they hesitantly enter the dark space, they are shocked to find a figure in the tomb waiting for them.  A young man, someone they don’t know, dressed in a white robe.  We assume when we read the story that it was an angel.  I often wonder what the women assumed.  What did they think as they looked into the face of a stranger, surprising them in a frightening place?  I imagine they continued to be afraid.
The young man though, tells them not to be afraid.  Clearly he has been waiting for them specifically, and he has a message to share.  “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified.  He has been raised; he is not here.  Look, this is where the body was.  Now go, and tell his disciples that he is going to meet you in Galilee, just as he said he would.”
All of the other gospels tell tales of the women running off to share the good news, and they tell stories of Jesus appearing before his followers.  In the gospel of Matthew, the women see Jesus and hug him before they even get back to town.  In the gospel of Luke, Jesus appears on the road to Emmaus and to the disciples in Jerusalem.  And of course in the gospel of John he hangs about for weeks appearing multiple times behind locked doors and at the sea shore.  But here in Mark, the first gospel written, the oldest narrative of the empty tomb, the story doesn’t go that way.
Mark says the women ran out of the tomb in terror.  Terror.  They are so afraid of the message that they have heard, they are so afraid of the things that they have seen, that they say nothing to no one.  Our NRSV corrects the language but in the Greek we find a double negative and I think author of the gospel of Mark writes that on purpose.  They are so terrorized by the empty tomb, that they say nothing to no one. 
Now, nobody likes that ending.  That is why all the other gospel writers tell a different story, and why early copiers of the gospel of Mark added their own endings as well.  Look sometime in that pew Bible and you will find two different endings that have been added to smooth out the story. 
It makes sense that we don’t like the way Mark ends the story because it’s not the Easter story.  Without joy, without good news, without resurrection appearances of the Christ, we feel shortchanged.  Honestly, you didn’t come here this morning for a story about how, “they said nothing to no one because they were so afraid.”
But you know what, I really like Mark’s ending.  Somehow it seems more believable to me; and I am pretty sure I am not the only one here to think that.  You see, this story of an empty tomb, is one of those stories we tell in the church that can often trip people up.  This is one of those “just take it on faith” things, that works for a lot of people, and also doesn’t work for a lot of people.  Don’t get me wrong, I believe in the empty tomb and I believe the miracle of resurrection.  Obviously, in this line of work, Easter is my business.  But, I understand, when people struggle to believe this story.
And that’s why I like this gospel ending.  It leaves room for everybody, which is especially great on a Sunday like today when the church is full of old friends and new visitors alike.  Those who see and believe, those who are filled with joy, can go out from the tomb, can go out from this Easter morning worship service, and share the good news of resurrection with the world around them.  Praise God for this amazing good news.  But those who aren’t so sure, those who are afraid of what this story may bring in their life if it were to be true, they are welcome here as well.  Even if you are more comfortable singing “Jesus, remember me” than singing “Jesus Christ is Risen Today” you have a place in this story.  You have a place with these women.
For believers and struggling believers alike, I think silence can be an appropriate response to this story we gather to celebrate each year.  If we do believe this happened, then we must believe that the women were afraid, and that the women didn’t know what to think.  That is a common human response when our world is turned upside down.
I am sure many of you have had those moments that literally rock your world.  Those times when the axis of the world seems to shift and what we thought was reality suddenly isn’t.  I see this happen for people when they find out a loved one has died suddenly.  Something you thought was stable and would be there forever is suddenly vulnerable and gone.  It happens to people as well when they face their own vulnerability and death.  It shakes you to your core. 
This happened to me when I was in a serious car accident in high school.  No one was severely injured, we all walked away, but the car was completely totaled.  Suddenly, at age 15, I realized I had been flying down the road in a death trap for years and never noticed it.  I could hardly get in a car after the accident.  Everywhere I looked I saw potential for disaster.  One inch here, one swerve there, and these giant metal beasts crunch together and we are crushed by their speed and their weight.  The world hadn’t changed, cars were always and still are very dangerous.  But my reality, my way living in the world, had changed a lot.  My world’s axis had shifted and it took a long time to recover.  I was almost 17 before I had the courage to get my own driver’s license.   
If we examine Mark’s story through that lens, things begin to make sense.  Can you imagine a world changing event like an empty tomb?  Can you imagine a world where death isn’t death?  I’m not sure that we truly can.  It is something we can hope in, it is something we can believe, but I am not sure we can really imagine it.  Just as I am not sure that we can really understand what happened to the women that day.  I do think though, that we can understand how terror, shock, and fear might prevent them from speaking of the event.
One of the wonderful things about the way that Mark tells the story is that he leaves room for an extra, untold miracle.  The miracle of resurrection is there of course, but hidden in the story is the miracle of good news.  If this really is the way things happened that first Easter, then how come we know the story?  How come we have told this tale over and over again for two thousand years?  That’s the work of God, and that’s the second miracle.  Even though we are too afraid to talk about it, even though we struggle to believe, the good news spreads.  God makes sure of it.  The story lives on, whether we are in a space to believe it or not.
And so today, as you go out into the world on this beautiful Easter Sunday, I encourage you to celebrate.  Celebrate this story we tell, of an empty tomb, of life conquering death, of fear eventually becoming joy.  And celebrate the fact that even if you as an individual aren’t able to tell this story today, God will make sure the story gets told anyway. 
No matter how we approach the service this morning, we can celebrate the fact that God invites us into this amazing story.  God encourages us to believe in a world where empty tombs are a reality.   And God will always initiate the miracle of good news.
Praise be to God for new life.  Praise be to God for Easter morning.  Amen.