April 24, 2019
Luke 24:1-12
As I said in our Council meeting last week, in my whole life, I’ve only had to have a Sunrise service be moved inside once. Early forecasts had today as a… less than ideal day for an outdoor service. But I am so glad that the weather held out. It is a beautiful morning. And I’m thankful to be out here, proclaiming “Christ is risen” with you all this morning. Sunrise services have been part of my Easter since I was a small child. We’ve been in the cemetery in the rain, after a fresh snowfall, in the chill of Pennsylvania springs. And I wouldn’t give up this service for the world. I joke with folks that I’m not an early morning nor a late night person; I’m a “is the sun up” kind of person. But this one day per year, I’m energized as I get out of bed, and go to the tomb, sing familiar and joyous hymns, and proclaim that “he is not here, but has risen.” Because it is here, surrounded by the people of God, living and dead, singing “Christ is Risen, Alleluia” that I found faith again and again.
There’s something about proclaiming that message in this place - surrounded by the tombs of our ancestors - known and unknown to us. There’s something about going to the tomb, like the very first witnesses to the resurrection, like the women who first saw the empty tomb. Here in the cemetery, is where, in the words of Joy Moore, “the beginning meets the end.” Or said another way, the end meets a new beginning.
In our first reading from Ezekiel, the prophet is looking at the death of his people. He is looking over the graves of those literally lost in battle. But he’s also looking at what seems to be the death of his people as a whole. His people have been defeated. They have been scattered, placed in Exile. Here, in Ezekiel’s prophecy, God promises that what looks like death isn’t the end. The people of Israel will rise again. And they do, shaped by the experience of exile. There comes about a new way of being God’s people in the world - even separated from the Temple that had become their place of worship and had housed their God. God makes ends turn into new beginnings.
The women who went to that tomb on that very first Easter morning were going to prepare Jesus’ body. There was no time to properly care for Jesus’ body before it was laid to rest. They had to quickly entomb his body so that they could observe their sabbath, their day of rest. As someone who has lost loved ones, I can imagine their heartache. Their Lord, their teacher, their friend was now gone. Taken by a cruel and grueling method of torture. It was now time to say goodbye to this person that loved them and that they had loved to the end (it is no accident that the women who stayed to the end were the ones that came to the tomb that morning). But the body that they had laid to rest just days ago was now gone. I can imagine that briefly panic ensued. Had someone stolen the body? Then, they were greeted by men in dazzling white - angels - literally messengers of God. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but he has risen.” In that moment, sadness, grief, panic turned to hope, to joy, to life. Their expectations had been turned upside down. They go to the tomb - that place that houses the dead - and instead find life. The tomb stone, that heavy, seemingly permanent boundary between the living and the dead was gone. What has seemed to be an end - a crucifixion and the death that followed it - meets a new beginning - a new life, a new start.
In this place, surrounded by our own tombs, holding the bodies and the remains of our loved ones, when we pronounce the good news of this morning, it is an act of defiance. Defiance to the death-dealing ways of the world. Defiance to all that tells us that these tombstones represent the end for us and for our loved ones - even as we are in the place of “Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.” It is an act of trust. It is an act of hope. Today, we clearly say that here death has been destroyed, and while these tombs are now literally full, we trust that because Christ has risen, death and these tombs do not have the final word. We declare that what seems to be end is only the beginning. We trust that the love of God brings about light and new life.
In a few moments, together we will affirm our baptisms. I can’t think of a more appropriate time or place to do that. Because it is in our baptism that we are linked - both with Christ’s death and his resurrection. It is our baptisms that seal us and that assure us of that resurrection promise of new life. Elizabeth Eaton in her address to us this Easter puts it this way, “Easter makes it possible for us, even at the grave, to sing alleluia. Christ is risen. Alleluia.” Even in our fears, in our doubts, in our grief, when our hope is lost, in our death, we proclaim here that none of that has the final word. Instead, we are met with risen Christ and the empty tomb - and God’s yes to us and to life. With the empty tomb, we see that God’s final answer to God’s people is yes. God’s final answer is one of life. God’s final word is one of unconditional love and an unbreakable relationship. We trust that God is always working to upend our expectations, to create life where we expect to find death. And that indeed is good news this morning. With God, in Jesus, the “end” or what seems to be “the end” will always lead to new beginnings.Thanks be to God for that.
Christ is Risen! Alleluia!
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