There is NO STONE!

Luke 24: 1-12

The Empty Tomb by Ghislaine Howard

On November 22nd 1718, British officer Lieutenant Robert Maynard  -who was financed by the Virginia colony- located and engaged the pirate ship he had been charged with hunting down.

The vessel belonged to Edward Teach. 

Teach was not the most successful pirate in history. 

The pirate Henry Every accrued enough wealth to retire from piracy, although his whereabouts went unknown and his final days are unaccounted for. 

Bartholomew Roberts was estimated to have taken five times the plunder of Teach, through acts of piracy, but his legacy is also shadowed by that of Edward Teach, a pirate captain better known as Blackbeard. 

Blackbeard has been portrayed as a tyrannical monster, but most historical accounts corroborate that his image was exaggerated greatly, because his intention was to be as much a legend as a man. 

But on November 22nd 1718, when the smoke cleared, Lieutenant Maynard stood victorious. 

Teach and Maynard
in combat

He sent Blackbeard’s surviving crew members here to Williamsburg to be tried for piracy but Blackbeard was not among them. 

As many tell it, Lieutenant Maynard personally defeated Blackbeard in battle, but many claimed that the body was thrown into the ocean, where it swam circles around the vessel before disappearing into the ocean depths. 

To this day, legends of his ghost are told by sailors, and his story is told and retold in literature, movies, and music. 

All this because Lieutenant Maynard allowed Blackbeard’s body to disappear into the sea, where the legend of Blackbeard lives on. 

Lieutenant Maynard may have won the battle, but I would argue that Blackbeard won the war. 

Maynard only defeated the man Edward Teach, but the legend of Blackbeard lives on to this day, undefeated. 

The strongest military empires, even those who have no equal, have one weakness; 

Enemies who cannot be defeated by death. 

This is why in Matthew’s account, he describes how Pilate assigned a guard to the tomb. 

Pilate wants to ensure that  the body of Jesus remains in that tomb, preserving the power Rome holds over all people throughout the empire, the power and authority to take life.

And the women from Galilee in Luke’s Gospel are equally concerned about the presence of that dead body. 

No different than any of us today, they need to see the body, to grieve over the body, and to come to terms with the death of the man. 

Today we encourage this experience as the way we begin the process of grieving, especially under tragic circumstances when shock has set in. 

And these women are certainly in shock.

They have either directly witnessed the crucifixion of Jesus or at least heard the tale.

The desecration of his body and the humiliation that he had experienced is still fresh in their minds. 

The body was, most likely, rushed off to the tomb, given the timing, if not for the sake of purification laws, for the sake of ensuring that religious and Roman order is restored to the territory. 

So they were certainly in a rush to ensure Jesus is given the proper respect and to attempt to reconcile the humiliation of his death by offering a proper burial. 

Gathering up the right ointments and spices, expensive investments that were considered important for ensuring the purification of the body. 

And on top of it all, there’s a need to see his body. 

To really and truly know that he is gone. 

To begin their time of grief. 

Certainly, they are all grieving. 

This was to be the Messiah, the hope of not only Israel, but if they had believed what Jesus said, the hope of the world. 

And as the sun descended that Friday, they had taken that hope and chalked it up as a missed opportunity. 

Just another in a long line of false Messiah’s. 

Other’s had claimed the title as well. 

Other’s had suffered the same or similar fates, but of course, this time they were certain that he was the One!

So they rush to the tomb, Messiah or not, they loved him dearly and knew he was deserving of the proper respects. 

Messiah or not, he was a man of God, full of love, full of grace, full of mercy. 

Perhaps not the King they believed he was, but without a doubt, he was a priest and he was a prophet. 

The Empty Tomb by Bertrand Bahuet

Today, the sight that is marked as the location of the tomb where Jesus was buried, remains a popular destination for pilgrims who travel to the church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, the site that houses the supposed location of Jesus’ crucifixion and his tomb. 

If you visit this site and you don’t get there early enough, you can wait all day in line just to enter into the tomb. 

The flow of traffic from the line that snakes around the aedicula - or shrine -  is controlled by a Greek orthodox priest. 

The priest’s duties are simple. He sits inside the small structure, tells those in line when they can enter, and then tells them when their time is up. 

Inside you can take pictures, touch the stone that surrounds the tomb, leave flowers, mementos, and prayers. 

But when the priest tells you to leave, that’s it. 

As you can imagine, this is the site of the most frequent debates, scuffles, and yes, even fist fights. 

Ironically, etched above the tomb in Greek are the words we heard today in the gospel,

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? HE IS NOT HERE!”

During my own trip, a member of our group got into a staring match that descended into a scolding match between the priest and this particular traveler as they were told that their time was up. 

Another from our group was scolded as well when they informed this particular member of our group they didn’t miss anything, 

They said they had it on good authority that he wasn’t in there. 

When I entered the location marked as the tomb of Jesus, I found myself overwhelmed by what I found. 

It was nothing more than an empty space, filled with icons, flowers, candles, prayers, and an array of other items attempting to make that empty space filled with our own perception of what holy actually looks like. 

It was ironic, quite the reverse of what we hear in Luke’s Gospel today. 

Because there’s nothing in the tomb but burial shrouds, and the things they brought to make that space holy, we don’t even know what they did with them.

The empty tomb is a shock. 

It is a shock to the women who fear that the body has been further desecrated, and it is equally shocking to the empire and religious authorities who want Jesus buried and gone. 

All parties want this event behind them, over, so they can move on.

This story is meant to be an emotional roller coaster and the greatest tragedy for a modern audience is that we know how it ends

… or do we?

As they approach the tomb two messengers just pop up, out of nowhere, and share some very “matter of fact” insights. 

Resurrection of Christ 

and Women at the Tomb

By Fra Angelico and Benozzo Gozzoli

In a nutshell, 

“Yep, he’s not in there.”

and 

“He told you this was going to happen, remember?!”

The women from Galilee don’t come to the realization because these two messengers are attesting to witnessing it. 

They come to the realization because Jesus told them this was going to happen, these two  messengers are just reminding them of his words, his promise. 

There is no hardened proof, no fingerprint dusting, no black light test, no DNA samples, they are just reminded of HIS words and in that moment…they believe. 

This is at the center of a core Lutheran theological concept. 

By NO power of our own can we come to believe, it is by the words of the Christ that the light bulb shines brightly above our heads. 

And that light bulb is not an idea, it is FAITH in HOPE!

It is the hope that sends Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary, and all the women back to the apostles, probably in hysterics, sharing the news that the promise is real. 

It is the hope that draws Peter off his butt, sprinting to the tomb. 

It is the hope that draws Peter into the tomb to investigate. 

And it is the hope that leaves Peter dumbfounded, pondering just what has taken place, what he has witnessed, and what -very well- may not have been an end at all. 

Because the story is not over, it has not ended. 

The story is still taking place right now and no, we don’t know how it ends. 

We are not given a clear picture or description, there is no certainty regarding what the end will look like. 

It is just a promise, an assurance, given through the Christ to us. 

That is the hope we cling to at the font, at the table, in the assurance we receive in the forgiveness of sins, and most of all in our final breaths. 

~

This past week, I felt like I had the Easter sermon pegged down until Tuesday morning when I flipped on the news. 

The attacks in Brussels, while tragic, are no longer isolated unique events. 

These attacks have become all too common and those are just the ones we hear reported,

while daily terror attacks in Africa and the Middle East go largely unnoticed. 

All morning I listened to the the talking heads, heads of state, contributing terrorism, state department, and military experts all ask the same question. 

How do we respond?

In the story we heard today, the very empire who inflicted the act of violence that was meant to silence and intimidate the entire world, submitting any and all who would question their authority, 

Find THEMSELVES asking the very same question; How do we respond?

Because sisters and brothers, how can you respond when the very means of intimidation is ironically lifted up as a symbol of love and triumph?

How can you respond when the tomb meant to bury the man, Jesus, is not strong enough to hold the Messiah, THE Christ?

And while Matthew’s account places a guard at the tomb, the guard doesn’t matter. 

Because it wasn’t the body of a man that they feared, it was the symbol of the Truth, 

Holy Week Sketch by J.R. Howley

And no guard, no stone, not even an army can contain a Truth so ironic and so revolutionary that it will assimilate the very empire that attempted to silence the Truth.

The symbol that uses the Roman empire to be the means by which the Christ transforms the world, even beyond Rome’s own borders. 

Maybe not the defeat that Rome, the Apostles, or the Sanhedrin imagined.

But in the history of the world, there has never been a single person who has done what Jesus the Christ does in this moment. 

If we are to believe 

-and I mean really and truly buy into the promise we receive in the words of Jesus the Christ- 

we receive a power that surpasses that of any empire, any government, any terrorist, any fear that can be incited against us. 

Because in that moment the stone is removed from EVERY tomb. 

The stone of death is removed and the very power it holds over us , 

A power which many have, would, and will continue to attempt to harness.

But they will fail if we truly have confidence that the stone has been removed. 

The stone of fear

The stone of anger

The stone of hate

The stone that we still fear will hold us in our own tombs at our final breaths. 

Because in the Easter promise we are assured 

That the sword no longer has the final say

and the tomb is nothing but an empty shell.

So I guess in the face of the events of this past week alongside the message we hear in the Word we are given from today’s gospel, 

There is only one response that I can give. 

The Christ has risen and He has promised that I no longer have to fear that stone. 

Alleluia. 

Christus Victor 

Mosaic from the Chapel of the Archbishop, Ravenna

Getting in the Fight

Isaiah 50:4-9

By the Waters of Babylon Evelyn De Morgan

Today’s reading, is the third of four songs or poems found in Isaiah, known as the “servant songs”. 

Although we rarely preach on these texts, we read them at times like Holy Week, as we are preparing to recount the crucifixion of our Lord. 

These poems tell the story of a servant who is selected and prepares to be the mouthpiece of God’s Word to the entire world. 

But it is a world that has changed. 

The four songs are written in the midst of defeat. 

The nation of Israel is crushed by the Babylonian empire, 

An ancient near eastern superpower led by, what many historians see as a brutal fanatic who thought he himself was a god, Nebuchadenezzar. 

The defeat of Israel is a crushing blow which destroys the political, military, and religious identity of Israel. 

A military campaign so shockingly brutal, that it is any wonder we avoid preaching, teaching, or even talking about these texts,  texts that we only dust off during particular times of the year. 

We don’t like to talk about the type of violence, anger, pain, barbarism and brutality that occurred during this historical event. 

And this third servant song is only a precursor to the fourth servant song which describes the servant as “so marred beyond human semblance, and his form beyond that of mortals- that he will startle many nations; kings so shocked by his appearance that they shall shut their mouths because of him” 

A servant so scarred by the brutality he endures, that even his corpse will not be recognizable. 

If your imagination is taking you to places you don’t want to go, please, let your imagination go because that is what these songs, these poems, attempt to evoke. 

And most people do not want to engage these thoughts or confront this image. 

But why? Why would we, the followers of the Christ be so timid when it comes to the reality of a violent world that surrounds us?

And if we are unwilling to face the violence of an event that occurred over 2,500 years ago, then how can we face the brutality of the world that we live in today?

Almost 15 years ago, when the attacks on the World Trade Center occurred, there was hardly an empty pew in this nation. 

But a year after the tragic event, church attendance began to decline in our country. 

Many claimed they saw this decline for years prior to the attacks but few could explain how the decline began to magnify. 

We have poured money into studies and research to explain this phenomenon.

We have attempted to change our denominational identities to appeal to those leaving,

but when it comes to suffering and violence let me just ask you one question?

When is the last time we found ourselves on the front lines of suffering, pain, violence, and the ugliness of the world that we check at those doors before we settle in for worship on Sundays?

Shotgun, Third Ward #1 John Biggers

Because we think we are called to check it at the door.

A parishioner approached a pastor on Easter morning a few years ago. 

When the Easter sunrise service had concluded she told him that she was sorry she wasn’t there for Good Friday, but that she had had a hard week and didn’t think she could get through Good Friday worship without crying. 

The Pastor stood shocked, grasping her hand, looking deeply into her eyes and said to her with the utmost sincerity,

“I am so sorry. If you feel you cannot be here in your pain, then I have failed you. If you cannot cry here, where else can you go to cry?”

Sisters and brothers, we love the resurrection, we love Easter,

but we cannot have resurrection without death, we cannot have Easter without Good Friday. 

The servant’s beating and humiliation is not just a description of a man, but a nation. 

A nation of people, chosen by God to be the mouthpiece of hope to the world. 

A nation who now lives in squalor, wandering a foreign land, uncertain of their next meal, their next place to lay their heads. 

A nation uncertain of where their children may be, or if their children and loved ones are even still alive. 

A nation who, now, not only questions their own role as a chosen people, but question the very existence of the God who supposedly selected them to be chosen in the first place. 

A nation contemplating if their religion is even relevant in the new world they find themselves wandering, as they sit by the waters of Babylon weeping. 

Sound familiar?

A religion that is no longer catchy enough?

A mere superstition that has lost its edge?

But the servant takes an approach that we don’t seem to find as appealing as budget strategies, catchy gimmicks, and programatic innovations that we often hope will change the face of the Christian church.

The servant looks beyond himself to an external hope, 

Not only sustaining the weary with God’s word but sustaining himself with a word that is not his own. 

Sustaining himself with nothing more than a promise that God will be there, somewhere. 

Taking confidence in the promise that God is near and that God will be his advocate. 

But why subject himself to such abuse?

Exposing his back and cheeks to abuse and humiliation, isn’t he just asking for it?

Over the past few years I have read many articles and heard many conversations about the war on Christianity, claims that Christianity is under attack. 

And while some of these claims have been made in light of particular acts of violence against practicing christians abroad, I cannot say that I have directly suffered for my faith. 

It isn’t because I haven’t traveled to these places. It isn’t because I have hidden my faith, but I certainly do know how, when, and where to pick a fight. 

And maybe I should stop taking that for granted, maybe we all should. 

Because we cannot claim to suffer for our faith from the recliners of our living rooms. 

We can’t claim to suffer for our faith from the comfort of the places we worship. 

We can’t even claim that we are in the fight at all, if our faith is nothing more than a ticket used to pick up the suffering that we checked at the door, like a coat, as we entered into worship. 

Our suffering should come into these places where we worship and our faith should go back out those doors into the world. 

Imagine a world where the Word of God was used as a reference tool as often as our phones?

Imagine a world where faith is more than a fish sticker on the bumper of a car or a tool for political endorsement?

Today, if you stand at the Dome of the Rock -the location where the temple once stood in Jersalem-

looking out over the Kidron Valley which lies between the Mount of Olives and the Temple Mount. 

Jesus enters Jerusalem and 

the crowds welcome him 

Pietro Lorenzetti

You can still see a path from Bethany, down the steep hillside where Jesus had ridden the colt into Jerusalem. 

Those who were at the temple the day Jesus rode into town would have clearly seen him riding down that hillside and witnessed the commotion it would have caused;  Jesus riding the colt announcing his role, announcing his authority, and ensuring his death. 

He could have come into Jerusalem quietly, he could have avoided making a scene at the tables where money and sacrifices were exchanged, he could have snuck out of town, he could have betrayed Judas rather than allowing himself to be betrayed by Judas. 

But instead, Jesus decided to pick a fight he cannot win, he will not win, he doesn’t want to win, at least not in the way we think of as winning.
~

I grew up watching the Rocky genre. 

Those who have watched these movies over the years can attest to the fact that once you get past Rocky IV, the movies took a turn for the worse. 

Although the movies became a bit less enjoyable, as a true fan, I couldn’t help myself. 

So this past year, I bit the bullet and watched the latest installment Creed. 

The movie follows the son of his best friend and adversary from the first two movies, Apollo. 

Apollo’s son, Adonis, uses the name Johnson and pursues a career as a fighter. 

Throughout the movie, Adonis attempts to conceal his identity as Apollo’s son, only using his kinship once to pull Rocky into his corner to train him. 

It would have been far easier for him to embrace his family name. 

He finds that the name could bring him wealth, success, and recognition but instead he steps into the ring - alone. 

At the conclusion of the movie, beaten and battered, he stands before the crowd defeated and announces before the crowd that is now chanting his name, that he is Adonis Creed. 

Throughout the story of Jesus, our Lord comes to the crowd who challenges him to admit to his title as the Christ. 

But it is only in his earthly defeat that his title is recognized, and it is recognized by a soldier of the very empire that has struck the final blow. 

Jesus, much like the servant in Isaiah, submits to the abuse and humiliation knowing that his advocate; God, will declare his innocence. 

In that moment his innocence will be recognized by his accuser, but the accusers will face the reality that the God who they themselves have cried out to, now hangs on the tree. 

And he was put there by their very own hands!

The story of Jesus and the song of the suffering servant is not a story that invites us to avoid the fight. 

It isn’t a story that invites us to hand our crosses over to Jesus or the servant.

It is a story that invites us to carry the cross WITH the Christ,

Entering into the ring, proudly bearing the name we were given at the waters of our baptisms with our faces like flint, confident in the Word, confident in our advocate, confident that in that Word we can never be put to shame. 

Amen

Perseverance Michelle McSpadden