Easter in the Fall

Scripture: Jeremiah 31:1-5, Matthew 28:1-9

Preached 04/20/2014

Have you ever done a trust fall? Then you’ll know just what I’m taking about.  But for those of you who haven’t ever experienced one, here’s a little help.  A trust fall is a lot like what it sounds like.  It all starts with a brave person.  That one brave or volunteered person climbs up onto a picnic table, a conference table, or the edge of a stage or platform or something, about hip height, or higher if you’re very brave.  So this brave person, as we’ll call them, climbs up, walks to the very edge of whatever they’re standing on, and turns around.  Behind them now, on the ground at the edge of the thing on which they’re standing, is everyone else.  And everyone else laces their arms together, forming what is supposed to be a safe net into which the brave person is going to fall. 

So, with their back facing this group of people, often people who they’ve just met, they start to lean back.  The goal is to keep their body completely straight, so they lean, and they lean, and they lean, until they fall.  And they fall through the air for what I can tell you feels like forever, and their heart races and their adrenaline pumps, and then they’re caught, safe in the net of arms prepared to catch them.  Everyone in the group is supposed to cycle through, taking their turn as this brave falling person, sharing in the terrifying and exhilarating experiencing of letting go of control, and trusting someone else to save you from hitting the ground, and the awful pain that would follow.    

But trust falls aren’t just for church camps, meetings, and retreats.  And they’re not just some new trend either.  From our Matthew reading this morning, we find out that trust falls are in fact, very, very old.  It seems that even the followers of Jesus did them.  And when our scripture reading starts, those early followers probably thought that the net of caring arms had failed them, and they had fallen to rock bottom.

They were most definitely feeling the pain.  They had just watched a man they cared about, loved even, be betrayed, tortured, and die.  .  Maybe, in addition to grief, pain, and disappointment, they were also feeling guilt.  Judas betrayed him.  Peter denied him.  The women, present until the end, stood far off, just watching, helplessly as Jesus descended into death.  They had seen him hit the ground, so to speak, and their arms hadn’t stopped his fall.

And to them, it may well feel like Jesus had let them fall, too.  They’d left jobs, family, money, and possessions to follow him.  They had reshaped their lives around this man, and what he taught them, and asked them to do.  They had faith that he could be the messiah, God’s anointed one, the one coming to save them.  But he was dead now, and a dead messiah doesn’t do anyone any good.  He certainly wasn’t around to catch them as they fell into their grief, pain, fear, and guilt.  And now, they had nothing but a body in a tomb.  And they were hurting.

So the two Mary’s, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary—still hurting, are going to that tomb, to the only thing they have left.  We don’t know why they’re going there- Matthew’s Gospel says nothing about anointing the body or wanting to see the place where Jesus lay.  They’re just going to the tomb, in the darkness before dawn, as they feel fallen to rock bottom together.  And when they get there, whatever they were expecting, they were surprised.  Because instead of a dark, cold, closed up tomb, they encounter bright light, an earthquake, and an angel of the Lord.

It’s pretty safe to say that the Mary’s were pretty terrified at this point.  I don’t care how faithful you are, an earthquake, and an angel with an appearance like lightning bursting out of the darkness by a tomb is going to terrify you.  Clearly, it terrified the Roman guards who we read “shook and became like dead men.”  The angel doesn’t seem to be concerned about them, and instead addresses the Mary’s, telling them, against all natural instinct, not to be afraid.  And then he shares the joyful Easter message for the very first time. “I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. ⁶He is not here; for he has been raised,.”  It’s worth repeating that: he is not here; for he has been raised. 

And at this point, we have the first hint that the Mary’s realize that they have not, in fact fallen and hit rock bottom, and neither has Jesus.  Instead of being on the ground in pain, we read that the women ran with “fear and great joy.”  They’re on top of that picnic table, backs turned, re-filled with expectation ready to trust in those safe arms to catch them, once again.  They can trust.  There is hope again.

And then, the real trust fall happens.  They encounter Jesus, who gives them a simple “greetings!” And they fall at his feet, taking hold of them and worshipping him.  It may not be his arms, but in this fall, Jesus catches them.  Nail holes, sword wound, and all, Jesus saves them from that painful, rock bottom, trustless and hopeless existence.  He hasn’t fallen, and now they know they won’t either.

They start to experience that promise that God made long ago, centuries before Jesus was even born, found in our Jeremiah reading.  “I have loved you with an everlasting love; therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you.”  God, and God in Jesus, and God in the Holy Spirit too, loved those women, and Jesus’ death did nothing to stop that love and faithfulness.  God, and God in Jesus and God in the Holy Spirit too love all of us, and all of creation, and Jesus death did nothing to stop that love and faithfulness.

This is the ultimate Good News that Jesus’ resurrection brings us.  That no matter what- no matter if we were the Roman Soldiers, the Palm Sunday crowd that turned into the crowd screaming for the crucifixion, if we were the women standing helplessly at a distance, or the prodigal son or daughter, the tax collector, the prostitute, the zealot, the betrayer, the denier, or anyone else in between- nothing can and nothing will stop God’s love.  No matter who we are, no matter what we have done, no matter what has happened to us in our lives, no matter how dark it seems, God loves us with an everlasting love, and God will continue to be faithful to us.   

No matter how far and how hard it feels we have fallen, into addiction, into depression, into hopelessness, faithlessness, into a bad place in a relationship, into a physical illness is bleak and painful, into anxiety, into debt, into anything- God loves us with an everlasting love, and God will continue to be faithful to us.  Let me say that differently- God loves you with an everlasting love, and God will continue to be faithful to you, no matter what.  And no matter how hard what you’ve run into may seem, the promise is sure that God will never, never let you fall without catching you before you hit the true rock bottom of hopeless bondage to sin and death.

Jesus is not here, he is risen, as he said.  He is risen because not even death can stop God’s love, and God’s faithfulness.  He is risen because he is God’s unstoppable love and faithfulness incarnate, and nothing the world could do to him could keep that love and faithfulness for all God’s creation and all God’s creatures down.  And he is risen to remind us that we, too, that no one, and that nothing can ultimately stop God’s powerful and eternal love and faithfulness, and we too will be caught before it is too late, and raised up.  So let us be unafraid to fall, because Jesus will indeed catch us in his outstretched arms, full of God’s ever faithful love for us.  He is risen, indeed.  Amen.

Hope in the Darkness

Scripture:

Matthew 26:69-75 (referencing much of the rest of the passion narrative as well)

Preached  04/17/2014: Maundy Thursday

Shared worship with Affton Presbyterian and Calvary Presbyterian

Tenebrae- a service of darkness.  We gather together tonight to worship, in the darkness.  And things are certainly looking pretty dark for Jesus right about now.  He knows he is going to die soon, and he’s deeply grieved.  He’s begged his friends to stay awake, and they’ve fallen asleep on him.  One of the twelve closest to him has already betrayed him, he’s been arrested, and now, with the cock crowing, though Jesus didn’t hear the words, Peter has denied him three times, as Jesus foretold.  And things are only going to get darker from here.

We too, sit in a growing darkness, as candles are extinguished and lights are dimmed.  Perhaps like Jesus, we know all too well that this story leads to beatings, torture, and death.  And perhaps like Jesus, we too are deeply grieved by what is coming, and hope, and wish, and pray that this cup of impending death could be removed from our savior’s hands.  I’ll admit that most years I join with Peter, and I weep bitterly as Jesus, my teacher, my example, my beloved, heads towards Calvary to hang and die.

And yet, I also join with Peter when he says that he does not know this man Jesus.  If we’re honest, we all do.  Peter wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know Jesus, and neither are we.  Because very honestly, none of us can truly know Jesus.  None of us can comprehend who this man actually is.  He is is somehow God who came to earth to be born in a dirty stable, teach and heal on dusty roads, and then die, on a rough and humiliating cross. He is somehow fully God and fully human at the same time.  He is somehow both eternal and about to die, powerful beyond all measure and yet praying for this death that does happen to be stopped.  None of us know this man.  

But he knows us.  He knows what it is like to be tired, to be hungry, to thirst, to feel joy, and pain, and despair. He knows what it is like to be a child, dependent on others.  He knows what it is like to love and to be loved.  He knows what it is like to sit in a place of worship, to eat meals with friends, and to have those closest to you die, or betray you.  He even knows what it is to fear death, and to feel abandoned by God. And he even knows, and is about to know, what it is like to die.

Tonight we attempt to walk with Jesus through these last days and moments of his earthly life in what are only a few short minutes.  And much like those disciples who tried and failed to stay awake, we will try and fail to stay beside Jesus the whole time, to experience what he experiences and to feel what he feels and to know what he knows.  And perhaps we will want with every fiber of our being to stop that crucifixion that is coming, and there, too, we will fail.

The cross will not stay empty, and none of us can take Jesus place on it.  And like those women who followed as much as they could until the very end, we will stand, watching from afar.  And yet Jesus will not leave us.  Not in his trial, his beatings, his torture, or his death.  He will stay, always, even if we don’t know who it is who stays with us.  He will stay with us, walk with us, cry with us, and find solace with us.  Because no matter how much we fail him, he knows us, and somehow, he still loves us.  The darkness is growing.  But no matter how dark it gets, we are not alone.  So Lord, forgive us for our failings and ignorance.  But for Jesus, who never abandons us even in our darkest hours, thanks be to God.