Easter (C) + Shock and Trust + 3.27.16

M. Campbell-Langdell

All Saints, Oxnard

(Isaiah 65:17–25; Ps. 118:1–2, 14–24; Acts 10:34–43; Luke 24:1–12)

Towards the end of the movie, “The Big Short,” a man named Mark Baum, an investor, speaks. He says:  “We live in an era of fraud in America. Not just in banking, but in government, education, religion, food, even baseball... What bothers me isn’t that fraud is not nice. Or that fraud is mean. For fifteen thousand years, fraud and short sighted thinking have never, ever worked. Not once. Eventually you get caught, things go south. When … did we forget all that? I thought we were better than this, I really did.”[1]

Fraud is a common problem in our world, and it is very real in the case of this movie, which talks about the housing market and how a small group of folks perceived fraud in the mortgage bond sales and bet against them, winning big but also feeling very depressed as a result. They could not believe that our society had allowed such fraudulent behavior on the part of big banks and all those involved in the mortgage crisis. (A little disclaimer here—the movie is quite crude at times in language and sexuality so it is only recommended for adult viewing, and not recommended for anyone of a delicate disposition.)
But, back to fraud. Fraud is real, in our country and in different parts of the world. And so, it is no wonder that in one of the synoptic gospels, Matthew, the chief priests are concerned that Jesus’ disciples will commit some kind of fraud and steal Jesus’ body and claim that he has been raised from the dead.

And yet, as we see in Luke’s gospel today, there is no fraud. The shocking truth is that Jesus has come back to life! And yet, we understand why the incredulity. The Jews had a strong tradition of discussing the resurrection of the dead, but this was often done in a center of debate, about a future eschatological time. No one imagined that someone could be raised from the dead at that time and place, a time and place so ordinary and so bound still by the oppression of Roman rule.

And yes, there was the troublesome matter of Lazarus. He had been raised from the dead, it was said. But we have all heard stories of some poor soul who sank into a coma, was considered practically dead for days or even months, and then by some miracle came to life. This, surely is not the same thing, is it? Lazarus’ raising from the dead was a story that raised the hopes of many and brought many to believe in Jesus and in the Kingdom he was proclaiming. But for others it just raised doubts. Like the stories we hear of and see in recent religious movies, of children miraculously healed, coming back to tell us about heaven. There are always those for whom these stories invite faith restored and then there are those who doubt, who can only see such Pollyanna moments as fraud. So Lazarus was a moment that brought some to faith and some simply to confusion.

But Jesus—he was dead! Beaten to the point of extreme blood loss, and then further exsanguinated at his death on the cross. A death that was in itself brutal, body breaking. No chance he was in a coma. No brain nor body could have survived.

So, they took what remained of a very lifeless body and lovingly buried him—a last gesture of love for one in whom they had believed, but who now, inexplicably, had left them. They may even have felt abandoned, as do many of the bereaved, but they loved him all the same and between near-strangers like Joseph of Arimathea and close friends such as the women who accompanied him faithfully, they laid him in the tomb and began the preparation for this burial. Spices and ointments. Something they could do.

Then, in the morning, the women, drawn by love and weighed down with grief, approached the tomb, carrying all the burial necessities. But something was wrong!

The stone was rolled back. Had someone tampered with the body? Surely not such an indignity, after such a death. Where was he?
And then who did they see, but ANGELS!

And it must have all been too overwhelming. Because they fell down, bowed their faces to the ground. Was it out of fear, or reverence, or simply this being the last straw? Perhaps it was all of this, and more.

Now angels, then as now, are not a common occurrence. They tend to show up in scripture, as in life, when something big is happening. Just as thirty-some years hence, an angel had heralded Jesus’ arrival to one Mary, his mother, now two angels (doubled as to the doubly bewildering news?) were telling the news to two other Marys and a Joanna. Jesus was returned to life! A body so broken, made whole, restored?

And then the angels—uncharacteristically not telling them not to be afraid—perhaps it was beside the point, for once? – remind them about what Jesus had said. Almost like strict schoolteachers who believe the students have not been paying enough attention. Remember, he told you about this. How he would die and then on the third day rise again? Any of this ring a bell? Beuller? Beuller?

It was as if the angels were reminding them of something, thought the women, but the trouble was, this felt like the first time they really heard it. It had not been clear before. He was with them, and he mentioned these things, yes, but surely they were figurative, just things we say. I mean, it was shocking! We talk about resurrection, they thought, but we always mean at some later time or place. (A bit like mortgage bonds never fail.)

But slowly but surely, the women heard this news anew and it began to dawn. Something big had happened. A shocking truth was real. Jesus was alive! (Why do you look for the living among the dead? He had said.) All these confusing things began to fall into place like the most beautiful, complex and wonderful puzzle you ever saw.

And so, they hurried to the apostles, eager to share the news. But they hadn’t been there with the angels. They didn’t believe it. When you think about it, all of us have been through this. Had a truth to share. God has somehow allowed our eyes to be opened to something, but others are not there yet. It can be disconcerting, to hold an as-yet uncommon truth. The women in the gospel experienced this. In fact I hear that the word used for “idle tale,” leros, is a Greek word meaning “trash.” It is the only time in the gospel that it is used.[2]
The apostles not only did not believe the women, they thought the story was garbage, a load of hogwash. The chirping of chickens. Or their manure. Something so ridiculously lacking in import that they used a special word to describe it . This “tripe” only appears once in the whole gospel!

But shockingly, it was true.

Peter, always the active one, plus obviously feeling convicted, having denied Jesus, had to go check it out. So off he went and he saw in the empty tomb evidence of the shocking reality. Though interestingly he did not yet see Jesus. He would see him later.

We are a bit like Peter at the end of this gospel passage. We have not Jesus yet, but we begin to believe this shocking truth in our hearts. Sometimes it dawns slowly, with incredulity, a willing suspension of disbelief.

And then, like a sudden earthquake of the heart, a stone is rolled, and joy enters in, and hope.

But in the meantime, we live in this world. A world where the temperature is rising and markets are engineered for the benefit of those who already have so much. So that people can lose homes, sometimes even die, due to others’ irresponsibility. A world where some do not have clean water to drink.

Some of this is not new. Isaiah is directly responding to such realities in the passage we hear from him today. Why else would he need to affirm that people would not die young, if his people were not seeing death at young ages? Why else would he need to affirm that one would not plant and another eat, or build houses and another inhabit, if it weren’t for the fact that in his day some were taking advantage of others, and all were not seeing the fruit of their own labor?

So, knowing that these problems, in some cases increasing today, but age-old, how do we live in hope in this world? As resurrection people?

We can look for evidence of the good news by living, insofar as we are able, in a way that does not harm others or the earth. We can remember that our choices are not in a vacuum. We can resist living into the fear and cynicism that prevail in our culture, and that tells us to other-ize whole groups of people-be they immigrants or Muslims or transgender persons or conservatives. In God there is no partiality. We can resist a narrative that encourages violence and greed. We can remember that sometimes the common good is more important than being right, or upholding the bottom line.

But also-we know it is ultimately not about what we do. That is really just for us. So we can live into our identity as God’s people.

Because a God who could bring that very broken Jesus back to life will renew us, too—if our hearts are open to it. Even if at first we think it an idle tale, if our hearts, overwhelmed by the world, wants to through that truth out like so much garbage, we are asked to trust. To know that something bigger than us is at work, and that we are simply the collaborators with the creator, who is putting back together the puzzle pieces of this world, so that ultimately it will be the most gorgeous design of all. Now the green blade rises. Love is come again, and love will have the last word. Amen. Alleluia!

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[1] “The Big Short,” 2015, as quoted on IMDB.

[2] Karoline Lewis in Karoline Lewis, Matt Skinner, Rolf Jacobson, “Sermon Brainwave Podcast 476: Resurrection of our Lord,” https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=738 (For March 27, 2016).