1st Corinthians 15.1-11; Mark 16.1-8
Alleluia! Christ is Risen.
The young man dressed in a white robe, sitting where the body of Jesus once was, says one of the strangest things imaginable. “Do not be alarmed.” How is that possible? How could Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome be anything but alarmed? On Friday, these three women watched from a distance as Jesus breathed his last and was lowered from the cross. Now, on the first day of the week, they come to perform burial rites. They’re not looking for resurrection. There’s no sense in the Gospel of Mark that Jesus’ followers sat around on Saturday after Friday’s awful events saying, ‘Well, that was terrible, but it’ll all be better in a day or two.’ No. These women went to the grave for the same reason we visit graves: to pay respects, to weep, to remember. They went to the tomb and brought spices to anoint Jesus’ body after his death. Only how would they carry out that act of compassion with the stone in the way? So when the young man dressed in a white robe says, “You are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here,” what else could they be but alarmed—unsettled and astonished? Something new and unexpected has been done by God within the old world as they knew it.
Jesus’ resurrection is the climax of all the biblical stories of the mighty acts of God and of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. This is a day of cosmic significance: the reconciliation of all things in heaven and on earth, says the New Testament. But new life in Christ and reconciliation in Christ is also deeply personal, too. Note the instruction the women are given near the end of today’s reading, “Go, tell the disciples and Peter that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee.”
Only why mention Peter personally and by name? Why single him out from the rest of the disciples? It’s because, as you may remember, Peter had been through what you could call a truly awful weekend. The night before Jesus’ death, Jesus warned his disciples that they would all become deserters. Peter objected, said that even if everyone else deserted Jesus, he wouldn’t. But he did. And even though he stayed close enough to keep an eye on Jesus’ trial in front of the unhappy coalition of religious and secular authorities, Peter kept his distance. And when he did have a chance to speak on Jesus’ behalf, he denied three times that he ever knew who Jesus was, though he promised Jesus he wouldn’t, not once. Have you given a friend your word that you would be with them through a hard time, failed to follow up, ghosted them without explanation? Peter’s weekend was one of failure and betrayal.
“Go, tell the disciples and Peter that Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee.” What an unexpected and astonishing word of grace and redemption. There is no blame for past failings, no lecture, only a new beginning—forgiveness and renewed life given even before anyone would have thought to ask. Easter is a day of cosmic significance. But it is also deeply personal. “Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures. And was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and he appeared to [Peter], then to the twelve,” says today’s second reading. What’s true for Peter is true for us. The announcement of Jesus’ resurrection is a word of hope and of life made new for us, for you. No one is beyond Christ’s grace and forgiveness; no one beyond the life he gives. Christ is risen for you, too.
Go and tell that news. That is the message today from the young man dressed in a white robe sitting in the tomb. It’s also the message of the old man dressed in a white robe standing in this pulpit. Go and tell, go and live, that news. Do not be alarmed. Yes, you will have troubles and fears in this world, at times be unsure how to take the next step, the next breath, wonder what tomorrow will bring. Uncertainty and anxiety are part of this age. “In this world you will have trouble,” Jesus says at one point. “But take heart, I have overcome the world.” In a world marred by fear and suffering, sin and death, Christ is alive to remake the world in his image, with his life. And because Christ is risen, the power of sin, suffering, and death is a spent and defeated force, like the bluster of one last winter storm. This means that all that we suffer, our own fears and pain, all that we mourn, even the hour of our own death—none of it can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. Wherever you find yourself, Christ will meet you there. He goes before you.
Jesus’ resurrection is the climax of all the biblical stories of the mighty acts of God and of God’s steadfast love and faithfulness. Throughout the scriptures, God provides a way when there is no way, rescues people from suffering and sin, exile and defeat, rescues us from death. God does not abandon us in our heartache and sorrow but comes to strengthen, console, and give new life. And it’s all God’s work from start to finish. The unasked-for reconciliation of Peter and the disciples is just one example among many showing how the grace and work of God always come first. The removal of the stone is another. The stone has been rolled away not because someone had the power to break in but because the life of God has the power to break out. Make that stone an image of all our limits: every immovable obstacle; everything that stops us in our tracks when we wonder if we can go on; the stone as image of our death, the unavoidable truth of our death as the one limit we will never overcome now overcome by God—the work of God, the love of God—nothing in life or death will separate us from the life and love of God in Christ Jesus.
Today Christ is risen and goes before you. With the Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome at the tomb, with Peter and the disciples, the Risen Christ will meet you, to be with you, wherever you find yourself—not only when the blessings of God feel close and warm but also in suffering and anxiety, fear and death. And just as the Risen Christ made himself know to his disciples in the days after the resurrection in the breaking of bread, today he gives himself to you here in the bread and wine, in the sacrament of his risen body. And he sends you out from here with God-given purpose and Spirit-filled courage to live with grace, forgiveness, life, and hope. ‘Go and tell about this life,’ says the young man dressed in a white robe sitting in the tomb. The old man dressed the same agrees.
By the power of his resurrection, by his new life breaking out of the tomb, Jesus has defeated the power of sin and death for you, giving you a share in his life to share with others through your life. “By the grace of God, I am what I am,” says St Paul today in words that apply to us all. “By the grace of God, I am what I am. And God’s grace toward me is not a barren gift.” It is not a barren gift but a fruitful gift, a gift of life today and the pledge of full and unending life for your future. Alleluia! Christ is Risen.
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