Alleluia! Christ is risen!
[He is risen indeed! Alleluia!]
Good. Now that’s over with. I mean, sure. It’s still the Easter season, and it’s Good News, sure. But it is worth taking a moment to notice that Easter isn’t always full of joy for everyone. Alleluia, we say. Christ is risen, we say. And so he is. But not everybody feels like resurrection.
In a small village in eastern India, a woman named Sita hears that Christ was risen at church on Easter Sunday. But then she goes home with her five children and begins to cook for them, just like any other ordinary day. Barely enough rice to scrape together a meal. Someone gave her a bit of chicken, and there are some stalks of some green thing she found earlier in the week. So she cooks what she can, and she places it in front of her children, and she watches them eat. She goes hungry, because she loves her children too much to take food away from them.
The burden on her second-oldest son has always been great. He has been the primary caregiver for the family for years now. At age eleven, he had to drop out of school and start working. The money he brought in was never enough. But they managed to stay alive.
Sita worked, too, when she could, though that was frowned on in her village for women, even in this situation. And honestly, the weight of it all pressed down on her shoulders, and much of the time she was practically disabled, barely able to lift her head. She sat at home and cried for days at a time, trying to hide it, hoping her children wouldn’t see, but of course they did. How could she not feel such despair, though! Her husband died six years ago. She had loved him so much, he was the light of her life, and now he was gone. Not only had God taken away her light, but God had also taken away the only means of sustaining her family.
She thought about getting married again. But she’d learned somewhere along the line that that was a sin. Jesus says so. “Moses said you were hard-hearted so he let you write a certificate of divorce, but from the beginning it was not so.” And even though that didn’t seem quite right to her, everyone in church seemed to think that if she found another husband, it would be like adultery. It seemed that this Jesus rose again from the dead in order to trap her in this miserable situation. She thought of marrying anyway, but what would people think? People could be cruel. How would they treat her children, children of a sinful woman? No, there are no alleluias in this house. Only hungry bellies.
Liang Li had heard that Christ was risen at church on Easter Sunday. And then on Monday, he went back to work at the dead-end job he’d had for every perfectly ordinary day of the last fifteen years. When children are small, their eyes can be bright and full of excitement. If you ask them what they want to do when they grow up, they might say “teacher,” or “astronaut,” or “dinosaur.” (Granted, dinosaur isn’t exactly a viable career option.) No child says, “I want to be in middle management,” or “I want to work for a corporation so big I will get lost in it,” or “I want to be part of a company that makes styrofoam packing materials.” These are not the things that dreams are made of.
Yet here he is, sitting in front of a computer and staring at spreadsheets full of numbers that all melt together when he tries too hard to think about them. Honestly, does it really matter if he puts together this cost-benefit analysis of increasing the horizontal tensile strength of their economy-priced, loose-density, shaped packing material by another three percent? Nobody will read it anyway.
But at least it’s better than going out into the office and dealing with the employees some more. Kim is such a gossip, she just creates problems where there shouldn’t be any. She talks about other people’s problems, but the problem is her. She would tell him about Sudhir, who seemed incapable of coming in on time, or of staying until the day actually ended. Always just a few minutes shy of full-time. Or an hour or two. He’d be a lot easier to fire, if he wasn’t the only one in the office who got anything done all day. And there was Ayaz, who was so eager to work that he’d be the perfect employee, if he wasn’t as dumb as a box of rocks.
This is what he was doing with his life. This is what he had been doing for fifteen years. This was his legacy. And there on his desk, staring at him, almost accusingly, was a photo of his family. He wanted to be with them. But his bosses were ever more demanding. He was working ten or eleven hours a day now, and fighting with the traffic in and out of Kuala Lumpur just for the privilege. His children were growing up, preparing for their future careers as astronauts and dinosaurs, and he was missing it. He heard the news, that Christ was risen, that he came so we might have life, and have it abundantly. But this wasn’t exactly what he’d call “abundant.” No, there are no alleluias in this back office. Only empty, meaningless repetition.
Carol did not hear that Christ was risen from the dead at Church on Easter Sunday. She was a faithful church-goer, and had heard it many times before. This year, though, Easter was not an ordinary day, and she had needed to be here, in this hospital room, staring at her son. Here, in this stark, miserable room, with all the machines connected to this young man, the love of her life. Staring at him, hoping to catch any sign of life, the slightest flicker of mouth or eye or skin, anything to show that he might not be— she couldn’t articulate the word yet. It was too horrible to bear.
She’d been a fool. Such a terrible fool to let him go out that morning, on the roads of northern Wisconsin, on his motorbike. I suppose he was—is—an adult and can make his own decisions. It had been cold, and snowy, but suddenly there were a few really warm days, and the roads were nice. He wanted to take one last ride through the hills up north, before the season made it impossible. But there was a shady spot on the highway where the sun wasn’t able to melt the ice… and now this.
Carol had been sitting in that room, and praying, and sleeping on the floor, and talking to the occasional visitor, and praying, and consulting with doctors, and crying with family members, and praying, for four days now. The doctors were, of course, not very hopeful. And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t have much hope either. But she wasn’t being honest with herself, so every time they mentioned another test, she practically begged for it. The truth was, she knew he was already dead. She was just buying time, hoping for a miracle, a miracle that would never come. Many times, she heard the news, that Christ was risen, that if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his. Well, great. What is Jesus waiting for. Bring her son back to life! Now! But no, there are no alleluias in this hospital room. Only the stench and sorrow of death.
It truly is easy for us to say, “Christ is risen.” And perhaps it is not to hard to believe it on Easter Sunday, surrounded by the flowers and the people and the scripture stories and songs and celebration. But what about when the next day rolls around, and the next, and the next? It can be difficult to believe that Christ is still risen on the ordinary days of life, the days when there is very little to celebrate, the days when the reality of life sets in.
And the truth is, in our Gospel story, the same thing is true. Jesus is real, tangible, incarnate, human, the Word made flesh who dwelt among us and we saw his glory. That’s true just about all the way through the Bible story, even the wondrous miracles and the transfiguration, and the bloody terrible cross. Perhaps most on the cross, the flesh crying out in pain and thirst.
But then the Gospel writers talk about resurrection, and it all seems so strange, so impossible, so difficult to believe. Jesus doesn’t feel very human anymore. He’s more figment than flesh. And it’s made even worse because we have four Gospels, and they all tell a different story of what happened.
Pastor Sivin told us last week about the women at the tomb, Mary and Mary. And there is an earthquake, and an angel shining like lightning, and the Roman guards fall over stunned. The angel sends them off to tell the other disciples. He is back! Jesus is alive! We must go to Galilee and see him! And on the way, they get to see him themselves. And then, in today’s reading, they all head to the mountain to worship him. That’s the story in Matthew.
Mark’s Gospel tells it pretty differently. The way Mark wrote it, there’s a third woman with them named Salome. And when they get to the tomb, it’s already open; there is no earthquake to shake the big stone free. A more subtle angel sends them off to tell the other disciples that he’s been raised. And in response, it says, “They went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” The end. The Gospel of the Lord. That is not the joyful Easter we want to hear. So much so that in the early years of the church, some people said it needed a better ending, and they aded one, where Jesus shows up, and people see him, and they start speaking in tongues and touching venomous snakes and drinking poison. Frankly, I think running away in fear sounds better to me than that.
Luke gives us women, and the stone rolled away, and TWO men in dazzling clothes. The women take off to tell the other disciples, and when Peter finds out, he goes to look at the empty tomb for himself. Then we learn about Jesus showing up to some other disciples on their way to Emmaus, and again coming in to visit the other disciples in Jerusalem. And then, strangely, as he is giving them his blessing, he floats up into the air, and is gone. Weird, that only Luke tells us about the ascension.
John is even more complicated. Mary goes and sees, and tells the disciples, and then Peter and another disciple are off, running to see for themselves. It’s a chase, and first one is ahead and then the other, and then they see, and it’s empty. But they don’t believe yet. Jesus shows up in the garden with Mary, and she only figures out who he is when he says her name. Then Jesus shows up—twice!—in a locked room with the disciples so they can see, even whiny Thomas. And then he meets with seven disciples and helps them catch some fish. And then he cooks breakfast on the shore. And says some weird confusing things to Peter. And—
All right. They’re not the same. These four accounts of Jesus’ resurrection and what happened afterwards are different enough to make us wonder what exactly is the truth. Did Jesus even really rise from the dead? Is Christ really risen? Or did they just decide he was supposed to be, and told a good story about it? It’s an uncomfortable question to ask, but admit it: At least two-thirds of us in this room have asked that question, at least in secret, to ourselves and maybe to God.
I suspect this isn’t one of them, but there are many churches where those kinds of questions are dangerous. They shouldn’t be. I like to say that scripture makes us ask those uncomfortable questions in order to punch holes in our faith, so that the Holy Spirit can sneak in through those holes and help our faith to grow. But there are questions, and then there are questions. And the resurrection of Jesus is a pretty big one. It can be too hard, too fantastic. And we do not usually live in a fantastic world. We live in a pretty ordinary one.
Our faith should make a major difference. It should make a difference in our lives, both how we live in ordinary life and how we understand our ordinary world. It should make a difference in our communities, both how we build a ordinary society with one another and how we understand the purpose of ordinary human community. It should make a difference in our world, helping ordinary governments govern their citizens in ways of justice to develop better societies for everyone, and how we understand the wondrously ordinary emerging global society with all of its diversity and confusion. Looking out at all this through the lens of Jesus Christ, living a life shaped by Jesus Christ— It should make a difference. But for most of us, I’m not very certain we could say HOW it makes a difference.
It’s one of the reasons that I get very uncomfortable when most churches and most Christians read the Gospel passage we had today. Jesus came to his disciples and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” The Great Commission. This is usually the passage we look at to understand why we should go out and tell people about Jesus. And that makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? Jesus tells us to, so we should.
There are ways that I have heard both preachers and scholars tear apart this passage in order to show that it doesn’t really say that. That Jesus says “all nations,” not “everybody,” and let’s face it, Christianity has made it to pretty much every corner of the globe now. We can stop. We don’t need to convert the whole world, just some people in every part of the world. Right? That’s what Jesus meant! He didn’t really mean what he said!… I think Jesus generally means exactly what he says. Jesus wants us to make disciples. We ought to go make disciples. “Everybody” seems like a good goal.
The problematic point for me is this. We have two “Great” things in scripture: The Great Commission and the Great Commandment. And it sounds, from the way that we talk about them, that they should be put on equal footing. Right? Love God, Love Neighbor, Make Disciples. Equally important. In fact, some churches and some Christians thoughtfully and prayerfully blend the two. How do we love God and our neighbor? Well, we make disciples out of our neighbor for the sake of God. The Great Commission IS the Great Commandment.
But when Jesus tells us what the Great Commandment is, it is in a conversation where he is asked, “What is the greatest commandment?” That’s where the name comes from. But in this passage that we read today, I don’t hear anything about either commissions or greatness. Why do we call it the “Great Commision” when Jesus doesn’t call it that?
This instruction from Jesus is a good one, and an important one, but it is NOT the central idea of Christianity. It’s a last-minute thought by a departing Jesus just before he leaves to ascend into heaven. Go, make disciples, he says, and then he’s off, and—
But wait. Actually, this is Matthew’s Gospel we’re talking about. If you were taking careful notes earlier, you remember that Luke’s Gospel is the only one that talks about the ascension. But today, we are reading Matthew. What does Matthew tell us? How does it end?
Jesus says “Go, make disciples.” And then he says, “Remember, I am with you always to the end of the age.” That’s one way to translate it, but the Greek actually says, “I am with every single day, into the fullness of eternity.” Almost the same thing, but do you hear the difference? Jesus doesn’t say end. In fact, the age could come to an end, and the next age could begin, and Jesus would still be there. There never will be a time Jesus is not still here. He is the one who is, and who was, and who is to come, for all eternity, present. Jesus doesn’t leave in Matthew. He’s still here, even today.
And actually, Jesus never leaves in Mark, does he? If the tomb is empty, and the women run away in fear, what happens to Jesus? He’s not in the tomb, which means he is risen. But he doesn’t stop being risen. He stays here. He’s still here, even today.
And in Luke, sure, Jesus ascends into heaven. But not before everyone has seen him. And in the sequel to Luke, which we call “Acts,” written by the same author, Jesus promises to send the Holy Spirit—and then he does on Pentecost, and God is here. He’s here with us. He’s still here, even today.
And in John, we do have all of these stories, one after another after another. We have an empty tomb, just like Mark, and then Jesus speaks to Mary, and Jesus is in the locked room with the disciples, and Jesus in the same room again so whiny Thomas can believe. And then, the book is done, John says so himself. But wait! There’s more! Jesus helps his disciples catch fish! And has to eat some with them too! But wait! There’s more! After an uncomfortable conversation with Peter, Jesus has— Another uncomfortable conversation with Peter! And then John says you couldn’t write down everything Jesus did. John wants to keep telling the story! He wants us to feel that Jesus is here. He’s still here, even today!
All right. So maybe the details are different. But Jesus appears to women, and apostles, and on mountains, and on roadsides, and in locked rooms, and at the side of the sea… The only place Jesus is NOT is IN THAT TOMB. Jesus is alive, and everyone agrees that even today, two thousand years later, Jesus is here with us, and that is what matters.
That is also where the so-called “Great Commission” leads us. Go! Make Disciples! But why? NOT because Christianity is all about growing the Church. It’s not about getting people to become Christian. Growing the Church is self-centered. It’s about us, and Jesus doesn’t want us to love ourselves; He wants us to love God and neighbor. And it’s not about loving our neighbor by making sure everyone is saved. I think Jesus handled that problem pretty well through his death and resurrection; how can it be possible that that wasn’t good enough, that he can’t do it by himself, but needs our help to drag our neighbor along kicking and screaming? Our salvation comes through grace, and our faith tells us this is so. God will take care of our neighbor’s grace and salvation and faith if he wants.
So why do we go make disciples? Because Christ is alive! Even now! Even today! And we experience that truth in our lives, and it’s such a wonderful, unbelievable thing, a thing that turns our lives upside-down, that we want everyone to know it. We don’t evangelize to save souls. We evangelize so everyone can see how wonderful it is that Jesus is still here, even today!
Even on ordinary days when it is hard to believe.
Sita was surprised to see the village elder, the old grandmother, standing in the doorway of her tiny home. “Come in the square and sit with me.” And you don’t say no to grandmother, so she went. People were mulling about, as they did in the village, and when the elder started speaking in a louder than normal voice, everyone paused to “accidentally” overhear.
“It must be difficult,” she said, “ever since your husband died. Six years? Has it really been that long? You know, I’ve seen the way you look at Vinay down the street. He’s a hard worker, has a good job, more than he needs. And it must be a struggle to feed your children. Have you thought about getting married again? I know a lot of people probably think that’s a sin, but I can’t imagine that Jesus would say he loves us, and then give us no way to survive, can you? I think God would be delighted if you became closer to Vinay. What do you think?”
And Sita’s heart sang out alleluia, as she met the risen Christ in this wise, old woman sitting next to her.
Liang Li turned that idea of abundant life in Christ over and over in his mind. Well, if his job didn’t give him abundance, he’d have to find another way to get it. He’d always liked to travel, maybe he’d a plan a vacation with his family to Myanmar. Somewhere, he found some language recordings and began learning the Burmese language during his lunch break. A break he never had taken those fifteen years, and that he now discovered was essential for his well-being. His family started to learn about they country they were going to visit. An educational thing he could do with his children, with purpose, and the fun and excitement of it!
But his family never made it to Myanmar. Myanmar came to them. His congregation decided to sponsor some Burmese refugee children in a Christian school that worked to prepare them for their new life. The newest children could not, of course, speak English or Bahasa or Chinese. And so there was only one person in the whole congregation who could talk, in any way, to these children: Liang Li, the guy with the language recordings.
Within a year, he was no longer sitting in front of a corporate computer screen. He was working at the school, helping with their financial planning and management and doing some teaching for the kids in mathematics and leadership skills as well. He still had to write cost-benefit analyses. But now he knew why he was doing it. The income was smaller, but his heart sang out alleluia, as he met the risen Christ in these beautiful young people from another land.
Carol had a dear friend from church, a study leader and prayer partner who came to visit her in the hospital. Five minutes later, when one of the doctors came in to call for a meeting, Carol invited her friend to come with her, for support. The doctors were honest; the machines were keeping him alive, and they could do so indefinitely. But there wasn’t much else they could do. We could sit and wait. Or…
Carol tearfully turned to her friend and said, “What do I do?” Her friend said, “I can’t make this decision for you. But I want you to clearly hear two things. First, I suspect legally your doctors cannot tell you it is the end, but it sounds like that is what they think. They are good at what they do, and you should trust them. And second, I think you need to pay attention to what you need also. If you need permission to wait longer to be sure, you have my permission.”
That was all she needed to hear. The permission to wait also somehow gave her the permission to stop. And so Carol and her friend, a few family members, and even one of the nurses, joined hands and made a circle around her son’s bed. Her friend prayed out loud for everyone, and then the doctors turned off the machines and removed the tubes. A few hours later, her son’s body stopped.
There was no bodily resurrection that day. But Carol did find the strength to trust in the bodily resurrection that would indeed come, that God had promised, and God’s promises were always sure. And so even in the face of death, Carol’s heart sang out alleluia, as she met the risen Christ in this dear friend who said the words she could not speak herself.
My sisters and brothers in Christ, our faith doesn’t change our lives, and the life of the world, because of Easter Sunday. It does so because of all the other ordinary days. We are not changed and renewed because Christ rose around they year 30 A.D. We are changed and renewed because Christ is risen, is still risen, is still here, even today. And we do not believe ourselves, and we do not go out and make disciples of all nations just because Jesus tells us to. We believe and we proclaim the Good News simply because we cannot help it. Because we have seen the Lord, present not just on the great holidays when everyone says Christ is risen. We have seen him in the joys and burdens of life, not taking them away but carrying them beside us. We don’t just say it, but if we pay attention enough, we have heard it, and seen with our eyes, and touched with our hands, and tasted in bread and in wine, and experienced around us, we know that Christ is risen, today, and tomorrow, and in every single ordinary day, into the fullness of eternity, and the end of the age. Amen.