Be, Go, Tell, and See

  

What are we to do when the best news dawns upon us?

 

Genesis 1:1-2:4a [The Story of Creation] 
Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21 [Israel's deliverance at the Red Sea] 
Isaiah 55:1-11 [Salvation offered freely to all] 
Romans 6:3-11 
Psalm 114
Matthew 28:1-10
©2024 The Rev. Seth Olson

 

Holy God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

 

Early on the first day, Mary Magdalene sat in darkness. Her eyes were bleary, all her tears spent, so she just was. She was not alone though, there in the obscurity, Mary Magdalene sat with the other Mary. They spent yesterday, the Sabbath day, weeping and unable to eat or sleep. Whenever the woman from Magdala stopped sobbing long enough to lay down to sleep, her mind’s eye began replaying the tragic images: the soldiers mocking, the criminals groaning, and Jesus’ body collapsing. She could not stand to watch as he breathed his last on that horrible cross, so she had collapsed in a puddle of humanity before it’s gruesome shadow. There was nothing left for these women, except each other. They had put their hopes, their dreams, and their lives in him. Now he was dead. 

 

As the flood of emotions continued pouring over them, the proverbial vessel keeping them afloat, their faith, felt like it was being tossed and blown. The storm of the last two days raged onward, and they were sinking. Mary Magdalene in desperation suggested they go to the tomb. The other Mary thought, “Why? There’s nothing we can do. He’s dead. Are we going to stare at a sealed tomb?” 

 

Yet, she was too exhausted to disagree. Plus, maybe this would give them closure. Still in her depression and cynicism, the other Mary believed, “Nothing will deliver us from this hopelessness.” Early in the morning Mary and Mary floated on not buoyed by hope but drawn in by love for their teacher. They went to visit his grave, they went to be with him, they went to repay his love.

 

In the bleakest darkness, Mary and Mary passed the place of the skull, slowly nearing his tomb. As they grew closer, they heard the snoring and snickering of the guards whom the high priest had dispatched. As they began worrying about what they would do when the soldiers saw them, suddenly an earthquake startled the placid night. The entire area rumbled in the darkness. Just then, an angel blazed across the sky forcefully flinging wide the entrance to the tomb and landing gracefully on the large rock. The messenger’s appearance blinded those nearby like a lightning bolt. Mary and Mary hid their faces. Instead of a tremendous thunder clap, they heard the toppling of the guards. 

 

Trembling out of fear and exhaustion Mary and Mary lay prostrate on the ground. A sweet voice rang out in the dawning light, “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for him who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples.” 

 

The women slowly rose. They timidly approached the gapping entrance. Mary Magdalene stepped inside to see the linens that once enveloped his body. The other Mary touched the massive stone, which had stood sentinel sealing in the Savior. “Where is he?” she thought, but before they could say anything, the messenger spoke once more. “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” The shock of this news puzzled and paralyzed the women for a moment, but as the joyful truth of the angel’s words dawned on Mary and Mary, they sprinted away from the surroundings of death.

 

They had never known such conflicting emotion. Fear, like a linen funeral wrapping was unraveling its grip on them, in its place was an all-enveloping joy. It was this overwhelming gladness that urged the women onward with reckless abandon through the darkened streets of Jerusalem. In the pre-dawn haziness, Mary Magdalene nearly ran into a figure. His outline, his aura, his presence were so familiar. Before the women could catch their collective breath, the mysteriously recognizable one spoke, “Greetings!” Immediately they knew.

 

He was alive. “Jesus is risen,” Mary Magdalene thought. He was living, breathing, and speaking to these most courageous disciples. They slowly approached him, took his feet, and worshipped him. The messenger had told the truth, then Jesus echoed the angel’s words, “Do not be afraid, go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” 

 

Be, go, tell, and see. These were the simple commands of Our Risen Lord to these faithful ones. And, through their journey we now discover the fullness of this Good News—not just for them, but for all!

 

This Good News was first bad news though. And, on this most holy night, when earth and heaven are one, you may still be struggling. You might feel hopelessness like these women felt walking to the tomb. The storms of this life may still be shaking you. The wounds—the ones you have inflicted and the ones inflicted upon you—may not be fully healed. Tonight, everything is not magically erased. And yet, like Mary and Mary, tonight you came to the tomb with them. Remember that before they arrived, before the angel, before the encounter with Jesus, it seemed like everything had been lost—it was as though all they had was buried in the grave. 

 

Inside the tomb lay their broken dreams, hopes, and lives. Mysteriously on this holy night, time collapses, and with the women, all of our brokenness rests within that cavernous grave too. Our broken dreams, hopes, and lives—all we have done and left undone to wound or be wounded—all of it lay inside with the still body of Jesus. To approach the place of our brokenness requires revisiting our darkest moments, those actions we pray will never see the light of day, and those times when we did not do what we could have done. As we approach this shadowy space, it at first seems that Our Savior is dead, that hopelessness wins, and that our brokenness persists.

 

Yet, in the predawn we encounter not only a messenger, but our Savior. The angel from God brings light into the darkness and opens wide the place where all that we fear was buried. The tomb though is empty. All that may be keeping us feeling stuck or paralyzed—all of our woundedness, hopelessness, sinfulness, shame, and death—all these things are transformed. God transforms these things not by magic, but by us stepping into the shadow parts of ourselves. As our eyes adjust to the darkness of the deadliest places within us, we find that even here, especially here God’s love and light bring healing, restoration, and resurrection. Like those brave women, we are to walk into the tomb to see that our old ways no longer sustain us, then we must go onward to Galilee. On the way, we meet the Risen Lord who implores us to be, go, tell, and see.

 

First, we must be. More fully, we must be not afraid, like both the messenger and Jesus instructed. Being without fear requires us to practice courage as we encounter our shadow selves. This could be through therapy, confession (we call it the Rite of Reconciliation), a small group of trusted beloveds, or any other number of ways. When we realize though that nothing—and I mean absolutely nothing—will prevent God from loving us, we will have new courage to confront the tombs of our lives. 

 

We must go. Once we experience this transformation through God’s saving love, we cannot keep this good news to ourselves. We cannot keep Jesus in the Church, just like nothing can keep Jesus in the ground. We must leave here and tell others!

 

We must tell. We must share the good news with all whom we meet. Jesus is not in the grave, and neither is all that stuff that we keep locked away in our tombs of shame. Everything that we find wrong with our lives is not somehow magically fixed by the Resurrection, but once and for all we are certain that nothing can keep us from God. This is the good news. Nothing, not shame, not sin, not death, not a single thing keeps God from loving us.

 

We must see. Mary and Mary almost ran into him. They recognized him though, and they knelt down, touched his feet, and worshipped him. We too might almost run into Christ Jesus. We will meet the Risen One on the way to our own Galilee—to wherever it is in our lives that needs to know not the Good News but the Best News that God loves us without exception and without limit. He is in every stranger we meet and every friend too. He is in all of us for he has redeemed all of us. So, I encourage you to look for Christ everywhere!

 

The tomb is empty… empty of our sin, our shame, and our death. The tomb is empty of Our Lord. Christ is not here. Christ is risen. Be not afraid, go and tell the good news, and see the Risen Lord! Alleluia, alleluia Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Amen.

 

Who Is This?

“When [Jesus] entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, ‘Who is this?’” (Matthew 21:11) 

The whole of the Holy City asked on a day long ago, “Who is this?” As Jerusalem experienced the unsettled turmoil, the fever pitch, and the near riots, they collectively yearned to know, “Who is this?” Crowds ran ahead of Jesus cutting down palm branches and throwing down their garments, as they had an answer for Jerusalem’s question, shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!” and “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

Surely among the crowd were the disciples. They had professed already who this was. Later in this week these same men would answer the question “Who is this?” differently. Judas full of greed and disappointment betrayed his teacher with a kiss. Peter after Jesus foretold of his threefold denial replied, “Even though I must die with you, I will not deny you.” The other disciples chimed in likewise, but a cockcrow would be the alarm that awakened them from their denial! In the garden the most dedicated ones could not keep watch with Jesus. When those with swords and clubs arrived one disciple seethed with rage and turned to the sword. The disciples’ responses to the question, “Who is this?” were not to hold up Jesus as the Messiah, or a Prophet, or even their rabbi. Instead, through betrayal, denial, unconsciousness, and violence they let their words and actions speak disbelief, fear, and unfaithfulness.

The danger with pointing out the disciples’ sins comes when I try to wash my own hands of Jesus’ death. I claim that it was the disciples’ missteps and inaction, not mine. I likewise blame it upon religion and politics, the Jewish or the Roman people, not me. I so easily slide into the crowd to run from my own part in the story. And yet, even there hiding in the masses I discover that out of one side of my mouth I call Jesus a prophet and out of the other I cry for Jesus to be crucified. This is the danger: to sit back comfortably and wait for a week to pass, so that I may show up in seersucker to sing my favorite hymns and never acknowledge my part in the story, my part in Jesus’ death.

What if we did not know how this all will end? What if we were to watch with the women—Mary Magdalene, the other Mary, and the mother of the sons of Zebedee—to see how this story unfolds? What if we wondered anew, “Who is this?”?

This week suspend what you think you know. Look past the answers that the disciples, religion, politics, or others telling you who God is. Instead, walk the way of Holy Week, and wonder, “Who is this?”

Expect Resurrection

You are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, and... 

Homily audio can be found here. This homily is based on Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 22:1-18; Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Ezekiel 37:1-14; Romans 6:3-11 ; Matthew 28:1-10

We have made our way through Holy Week. We have walked the streets of Jerusalem waving palms. We have had our feet washed by Jesus and washed one another’s feet. We have witnessed the betrayal, denial, and sentencing of Jesus. We have journeyed to the Cross to behold the pain of Jesus and the glory of God’s self-sacrificing love. Now after a day of rest we are at the tomb.

“Suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them” (Ezekiel 37:7-8).

You are made of bones and sinews and flesh and skin. You are also made of atoms, a lot of atoms! Rob Bell, who is a Christian thinker and author, said on a recent podcast that we are made up of 7 billion, billion, billion atoms. Some of the atoms in our bodies date back over a billion years. That is right, you are made of atoms that previously constituted something else. The heavier atoms actually come from star dust. So you are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, atoms, and stars!

What is more parts of you are constantly dying away. Every week you regenerate new skin cells. More amazingly every seven years or so your entire body will be reconstituted by new cells. Hundreds of millions of cells die within you and hundreds of millions more come to life. You are ever dying and you are ever coming to life. You are not just made of bones and sinews and flesh and skin and atoms and stardust. You are made of death and rebirth! The you that you are today is not the you that you once were, nor is it the you that you will become. You are made of death and rebirth. You are death and resurrection.

If this is who you are, which I believe is the case for all of us, spotting death and resurrection would seem an easy task, but somehow we miss it or part of it. We easily observe death, just turn on CNN, open your paper, or check out a news website. Death drives sales! Yet, all this death tends to dry us out. We end up like the bones from Ezekiel’s valley. We are breathless. So what do we do? How can we mere mortals catch God’s breath? We can’t. Not because we are unworthy or bad or wrong, but because God’s Spirit already resides within us. Yet, if this breath is in us how can we get so lifeless? We need Resurrection.

A long time ago there were two women. Although they did not appear in the foreground of Matthew’s account of the Good News about Jesus of Nazareth until the very end, they had been with him since the beginning at Galilee. They have provided for him Matthew tells us. This is an interesting word for it is not used all that often except to describe angels, Peter’s mother-in-law, and Jesus himself. They provided Jesus with comfort, food, and fellowship. They gave life, but how?

Now on the first day of the week after the day when Jesus was crucified and after the Sabbath when Mary and Mary had been starring at the place where Jesus rest, they decided to go see the tomb. These women act strangely at first glance, why would you sit and stare or go to look at a sealed grave? Recall that Jesus foretold of his Resurrection, well these two actually heard it and remembered it. They were not going to look at an enclosed cavern they were coming to see the Resurrection. They were on the hunt for Resurrection. They understood that they were not going out to look at death for they brought no spices to adorn the dead. They went out actually looking for Jesus to be raised from the dead.

To be here at the Easter Vigil I imagine that you are pretty serious or pretty curious. You are either pretty serious about following Jesus or you are pretty curious about what following Jesus actually means. Following Jesus means recognizing the substance of your being comes from death and resurrection. Following Jesus means being like these women who provided for Jesus, except that when we provide for Jesus now that means we provide for everyone who makes up his body now (i.e. the least among us). Following Jesus means that we do not remain dry and breathless in the face of death, but in the face of death we expect God’s resurrecting power.

On this most Holy night remember that you are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, atoms, stardust, death, God’s breath, and Resurrection. Know that your call in this new glow of Easter is to be like Mary and Mary. Go out and provide for Jesus wherever you meet Him. And, most importantly expect Resurrection! Expect to find Resurrection wherever you may see death! Be Resurrection, provide for the Resurrected Lord, and expect Resurrection!

In the name of the Resurrected Lord who is Father, Son, and Spirit! Amen.

Go. Tell. See.

Listen to sermon audio here.

In the beginning of the first day, Mary Magdalene sits in darkness. Her eyes can cry no more tears, so she just is, with the other Mary. They spent all of yesterday, the Sabbath day, weeping, unable to eat or sleep. Whenever the woman from Magdala stopped sobbing long enough to lay down to sleep, the images flicked on again in her memory: the soldiers mocking, the criminals groaning, and his body sinking. She could not stand to watch as he breathed his last on that horrible cross, so she collapsed in a puddle of humanity beneath it. There is nothing left for these women, except each other. They put all their hopes, their dreams, their future in him. Now he is dead.

As the flood of emotions continues to pour over them, the vessel keeping them afloat, their faith in him, feels like it is being tossed and blown away by the storm of the last forty-eight hours. Mary Magdalene in desperation suggests that they go to the tomb. The other Mary thought, “Why? There’s nothing we can do. He is dead, his body has been anointed, and buried. Are we to just look at the sealed tomb?”
Yet, she was too exhausted to put up any fuss. And, maybe this would give them some finality. Nothing though could deliver them from this hopelessness; nothing could bring them out of their painful captivity. Early in the morning Mary and Mary walk on not buoyed by hope, but drawn by their love for their teacher. They went simply to see the tomb.

In the bleakest darkness Mary and Mary slowly near the place where he lay. As they grow closer, Mary Magdalene hears the snoring and snickering of the guards whom the high priest had dispatched to ensure no followers would steal the corpse. Just as she begins to worry about what they will do when the soldiers see them, suddenly an earthquake startles the placid night. The entire earth shakes in the darkness. At the same moment an angel flies across the sky to the resting place, forcefully flinging wide the entrance to the tomb. The messenger’s appearance blinds those nearby like a lightning bolt. The Marys hide their faces, but instead of a tremendous thunder clap they hear the toppling of the guards.

Trembling out of fear and exhaustion Mary and Mary lie faces down on the ground. “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for him who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples.”

The women timidly approach the gapping entrance. Mary Magdalene steps inside to see the linens that once enveloped his body. The other Mary touches the massive stone, which had stood sentinel sealing in the Savior. “Where is he?” she thinks, but before they can say anything, the messenger speaks again. “He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” Not wasting a second, Mary and Mary sprint away from the surroundings of death.
They had never known such conflicting emotion. Great joy wrapped in fear pushes them to run with a reckless abandon through the darkened streets of Jerusalem. In the pre-dawn haziness Mary nearly runs into a figure so familiar that he seems foreign. Before the women can catch their breath he speaks, “Greetings!” Immediately they know.

Jesus Is Alive. Living, breathing, speaking to these most courageous disciples. They walk to him, take his feet, and worship him. The messenger had told the truth, then Jesus echoes the angel’s words, “Do not be afraid, go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
Go. Tell. See. This is the simple message of Our Risen Lord. And, through the journey of Mary and Mary we discover the fullness of this good news.

We still experience deep hopelessness, as we endure this life’s flood and our own sinful captivity. We are invited to bravely walk with Mary and Mary to the tomb. All their broken dreams and shattered dreams rested inside. Every bit of our sorrow, shame, despair, and sin rests inside that tomb with the dead body of Jesus. To approach the place where all our brokenness lies is like revisiting our darkest moments, those actions we pray will never meet the light of day, and those times when we did not do what we could have done. To know that our Savior is dead, locked away, and guarded makes it seem as though that hopelessness wins.

Yet, in the predawn we encounter not only a messenger, but our Savior. The angel from God brings light into the darkness and opens wide the place where all that we fear was buried. The tomb though is empty. All that keeps us paralyzed in a straightjacket of shame has been transformed by the power of Our Resurrecting God! Jesus whom we then meet says, go, tell, and see.
We must go. We cannot just keep this good news to ourselves. We cannot keep Jesus in the Church, just like we cannot keep Jesus in the ground. We must leave here and tell others!
We must tell. We must share the good news with all whom we meet. Jesus is not in the grave, and neither is all that stuff that we keep locked away in our tombs of shame. Everything that we find wrong with our lives is not somehow magically fixed by the Resurrection, but once and for all we are certain that nothing can keep us from God. This is the good news. Nothing, not shame, not sin, not death, not a single thing keeps us from God.

We must see. Mary and Mary almost run into him. They recognize him though, and they kneel down, touch his feet, and worship him. We can almost run into him as well. We meet Jesus out on the way to Galilee or Birmingham or the grocery store. He is in every stranger we meet and every friend too. He is in all of us for he has redeemed all of us. We see him in those we run into.

The tomb is empty… empty of our sin, our shame, our death, and Our Lord. He is not here. He is risen. Go and tell the good news, and see the Risen Lord! Amen.