The Rules Have Changed

Easter Sunday – Year B

April 5, 2015

Mark 16:1-8
When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, "Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?" When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, "Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you." So 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.

Death sucks. Pure and simple. Death sucks. Yesterday my dog, Luther, died. Last year Missy's dad died. If there is one thing that each and every one of us has in common other than being born, it's that death is a part of our lives. We lose friends, we lose spouses, we lose parents, we lose children, we lose pets. We suffer through loss, and we do the best we can to be there for those closest to us as they also grieve the loss of those they love. There is no way to sugarcoat it, no way to make the pain go away, death sucks. We all know it. How does the saying go? “There are only two sure things in life: death and taxes.” Death is one of those rules of life.

There are, what are sometimes called, 'the rules of the universe'. For example: when we throw a ball into the air, we expect that it is going to come back down. There's this thing called gravity, and we expect the ball to play according to the rules of gravity. What goes up, must come down. If you get a deep cut in your finger, you expect it to bleed. If you spin around in circles fast enough, you will get dizzy and maybe even fall down. As you get older, you expect to get bigger and stronger as you move into adulthood; then as you enter into older stages of life you expect your body to not work quite as well as it once did. There are expectations, rules that we expect to be followed, that go along with life and with death.

For the women in our Gospel text today, there were rules about death they expected to be followed. In first century Judaism, there wasn't agreement among the religious elite about what happened when you die. The Sadducees did not believe life went on after death. Life was life, death was death; when you died that was the end of the story. The Pharisees believed in resurrection, but for them resurrection was a part of the end times, the coming of the Messiah. At the end, when the Messiah came, God would create a new state of affairs in the space-time world, bringing about justice, overthrowing oppression and wickedness; God would raise the righteous to be the citizens of this new world. They expected a large-scale, simultaneous opening of the graves.

On that morning, the two Marys and Salome go to the tomb, understanding the rules. Dead is dead, and even if they believed as the Pharisees did in resurrection; there had been no opening of the graves; Abraham, Moses and David were not wandering the streets of Jerusalem. No, they went to the tomb that morning knowing the rules. Jesus was dead, and his body was lying on the cold stone of the grave table. They were dealing with the rules they knew. They had purchased spices to anoint the body, to try and keep the stink of the dead body from becoming overwhelming as it rotted in the grave. They were worried about being able to move the large stone that sealed the tomb. The last thing they were expecting was an empty tomb. It went against the rules.

Look at they way our gospel text from this morning ended: “So 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.” Seriously, that's our gospel message of hope for Easter? Fleeing in terror? Happy Easter! Run!

Yet, that is exactly the way the writer of Mark's gospel ends his account. The verses that continue from this point were added on at a later point by someone who didn't like the way he ended his account. The account started pretty good though, it has a beginning we can understand, a beginning we could expect. The women go to the tomb, early in the morning, with their spices. Deep in grief, few words being exchanged, other than wondering about the stone, and likely a few words about how death sucks. They arrive at the tomb and are surprised to find the stone has been rolled away – what's happened? Was someone expecting them? Had another of Jesus' followers arrived ahead of them? Had the tomb been desecrated?

Yet, they go right in. Upon entering into the tomb, they encounter a young man dressed in white. Now they are alarmed. Now?!! A little late ladies! This is a story about dead bodies, taking place in a graveyard, with things happening that shouldn't have happened. If it was a movie, lot's of popcorn and pop would have been spilled all over the floor when the young man appeared. Alarmed?? I might have peed my robes. Then we hear the declaration, the words we may have memorized, the words we associate with Easter: “Do not be amazed, don't be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.”

Now, that's the Easter message we came this morning to hear, right! 'Do not be afraid, he is risen. He is not here.' That's the story we know, that's the comfort we seek, the hope we want to hear proclaimed. But, that's not the way the story ends in Mark. Even though they have seen the stone rolled away, even though they have seen the empty tomb, even though they have heard the declaration of the messenger dressed in white, even though they had been instructed to 'go and tell', in spite of all this, they fled from the tomb in terror and amazement, and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

Happy Easter! Seriously, is this any way to write a resurrection story? Is this any way to end an Easter proclamation?

But, if you have ever encountered death? And, who among us hasn't? If you have ever stood at an open grave gazing into the damp and dark earth, you know that two emotions are twisted up together inside of you: terror and amazement. And you also know how hard it is to talk about. How hard it is to share with another how the one who you love is dead, yet lives. Death sucks.

The women in our gospel text come to the tomb, knowing just that: death sucks. The spices they carried was the proof. They were not expecting a stone rolled away, an empty tomb; they lived in world where death was a sure thing, and the tombstone was the proof. They came perhaps to give Jesus the burial they thought he deserved, maybe they came to pay respects, maybe they came to share some final memories, maybe they came out of duty, maybe they came to try and make sense out of all that had happened in those crazy, chaotic last days. One thing, I'm sure is they didn't come expecting that all they had ever known about death had been turned on it's head. None of them came with the expectation of resurrection.

Why did you come this morning? Why did you come here, today on Easter? Did you come out of habit? Did you come out of duty? It's Sunday, it's Easter – it's what we do. If that's why you came, great! I'm fine with that. Maybe you came this morning to reconnect. Maybe you grew up in this church, or another, and have drifted away in the years since. Maybe you felt the church was a place you no longer felt welcome at. Maybe you came seeking to fill an emptiness, a need. Since Easter last year, life has changed for you. You lost a job, the love of your life died, a family member died, you or a loved one faced terrible illness. Maybe you came, hoping that the sights and sounds of Easter morning might fill the emptiness you feel. I'm okay with that, too. Maybe you came this morning to try and make peace with, to find answers for all the things happening in your life, and in the world.

I don't know why the women went to the tomb that morning, and I don't know why you came this morning. I don't know if you came this morning knowing that the rules you have lived by, the rules you have died by, have changed. Did you come this morning morning ready to hear that everything you thought you knew about life, everything you thought you knew about death was overturned in the night? Did you show up this morning ready to deal with the new reality that the rules have changed, that you have a resurrection coming?

“You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here.” The grave is empty, and the rules aren't the rules anymore. In a world where death is the promise, and graves are the proof, there is a new promise in play, a new rule in effect; in the church we call it resurrection. Resurrection isn't just about some reward for a life you never had, but a restoration of the life you always wanted. Resurrection is the promise of God that the life you have always wanted, will one day be the life you will always have.

Easter is the confirmation, the proof, that God is able, and not just able, willing and desires to fix a broken world, and a broken you. Resurrection isn't just a nice sweet metaphor, a nice idea we can look toward; that's not what this is about. We are talking about the reality of hope. Not a vague hope, but the reality that death has no power to take you from the reach of God. Guilt cannot separate you from God. Whatever bad news you face is transformed by the news that you have a resurrection coming.

You who are aging, or facing an illness or disease; you don't have to live in fear of your health failing. You who are facing the reality that the love of your life didn't work out the way you had hoped, you don't have to live with that heartache. You, the parent whose child has wandered far from home, falling into the trap of drugs or depression, jail or death, you don't have to live with the blame or shame anymore. You anxious about your job, your retirement, about food prices, and gas prices, about terrorists or the threat of war, you don't have to be anxious anymore. You lonely, walking alone through the dark valleys, seeking and hoping to find that lasting love, that sacrificial love that we all hope for; I want all of you to hear the promise of God this morning: the rules have changed, you have a resurrection coming.

There is a new reality at loose in the world, it is called the risen spirit of Christ. Where once the promise of death was a gravestone, now the promise of life is a new reality. No event in your life can imprison you. Wherever you are in this journey of life, you have a resurrection coming.

The women left the tomb terrified and amazed, and said nothing to anyone. But they were not alone. There is one other person who has heard. There is one other person who has seen. There is one other person who journeyed with Jesus, hearing his words, experiencing his miracles. There is one other who heard his predictions of death and resurrection. There is one other person who experienced his betrayal and crucifixion. There is one other who sees the empty tomb, and heard the command to, 'go and tell.'

Do you know who that is? It is you, it is I. The story didn't end on that first Easter Sunday, with the women fleeing terrified and amazed. Someone told. Someone told about the new reality that had been set loose in the world. Someone, in spite of their terror and amazement, someone told, someone shared, 'he is not here, he is risen', and because of that there is a new reality in the world, the rules have changed, and you have a resurrection coming.

Friends, we all of us have a resurrection coming. Go and tell; if not you, then who? If not now, then when? Go and tell. The rules have changed. Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed. Hallelujah! Amen.