"Who do you say
that I am?" Jesus asked. Simon Peter answered, "You
are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." And Jesus
answered, "Blessed are you, Simon son of Jonah! ... You are
Peter (petros), and on this rock (petra)
I will build my church..." Jesus then began to speak of
the rough road ahead. And Peter took him aside and rebuked him... "Get
behind me, Satan!" Jesus replied. "You are a stumbling
block..." (Matthew 16:13-23) May these words of this Peter be like a rock, |
“Expressing the Inexpressible”
Message preached April 20,
2014
Long Green Valley Church of the Brethren
Glen Arm, Maryland USA
based upon
The grown son of some long-ago friends of mine died quite unexpectedly this
week, and I struggled to find words to express in a note what was on my heart.
Have you ever had that trouble? Words feel so inadequate in the face of such a
loss. It seems more appropriate just to sit quietly with those who mourn, as in
the Jewish practice of sitting “Shiva,” or grieving together for seven days.
This young man’s now-retired father had faithfully proclaimed the gospel for
many years as the pastor of several churches. How many Easter sermons had he
preached? How many have I? No matter how much wisdom or talent we bring to the
task, it always seems less than adequate to convey the message. How do you
express the inexpressible, after all?
The story behind this day begins with women faithfully doing what needs to be
done. In the face of death, love propels us to action. What’s the first thing
that usually happens when there is a death in the family? Dishes of food start
appearing. Or chores get done by other folks. The hands of friends and loved
ones get busy when words are hard to come by. It was so on that first Easter.
According to scripture, Jesus died before the sun set on Friday. He was buried
too quickly for adequate preparation, so that the Sabbath would not be violated.
With darkness came the beginning of the second day of his death, and until the
sun set 24 hours later, no hands were allowed to work. What a terrifying day of
rest that must have been?
Once the Sabbath was over with the setting of the sun, work could begin again on
the third day. Thus the women came to the tomb while it was still dark. Of
course, our varied Gospel accounts differ on who and how many hands were
involved. Following John’s gospel, as we did this morning, only the hands of
Mary Magdalene are mentioned, though when she brings the startling news of an
empty tomb to the disciples, Mary speaks for more than just herself, saying “we
don’t know where they have laid him”
(John 20:2b).
Women’s hands were at work on that first day of the week long ago, their feet
taking them to do what must be done, as women had done for generations before
them. In the face of death, after all, love propels us to action. No doubt it
was hard enough to express in words what they were heading to the cemetery to do
on the first Easter morning. Were they prepared for the task of preparing his
body for proper burial? No, but you do what you have to do. Love demands no
less.
And then, the unthinkable happens. The body of Jesus was gone, perhaps stolen.
Can you imagine the titanic shifting of emotions that brought about? Some of you
probably can, for you have faced your own heartache. But how do you express
something so inexpressible? Mary tried. “They’ve taken his body … I … we don’t
know where …?” It doesn’t make sense. Of course, that was the general theme of
the day: so much just plain didn’t add up. Racing to the grave, what were those
disciples supposed to make of a bunch of sheets without a body wrapped up in
them? That was how the first Easter began – with a huge question mark.
And then it became personal. In the account we heard earlier from John’s gospel,
Mary has returned to the tomb, following Peter and the beloved disciple, and
remains after they left. Amid her tears and fears, she peers into the darkness
of that cave of a tomb. Angels are inside. I recall a sister among us recently
talking about seeing angels during her husband’s hospitalization, and I thought
she meant the human variety. I was corrected. How do you express something like
that? Did Mary know what she saw at that moment on ground zero resurrection day?
The questions remained.
“They’ve taken him, I don’t know where,” she replied when asked why she is
weeping. As she spoke, she turned from the angels and the empty tomb – both of
which she did not understand – and saw
Jesus, only she didn’t really see him. “Why are you weeping?” he repeats the
angels’ question. “For whom are you looking?” Thinking he is the cemetery
caretaker, she cries out, “did you take his body? If so, tell me where so that I
can get go and get him.” She was still locked into her original task, preparing
his body for burial.
“Mary,” Jesus then said, calling her by name. That was the moment Easter began
for this woman. Did she understand? Did everything suddenly add up? If anything,
I’m guessing that all sorts of new questions started popping up in her head. She
had witnessed his death. She had helped with his burial. She was there to finish
the job of preparing his broken and decaying body for the final journey. But
here he was standing right in front of her, calling her name. All she could do
was reply, “Rabbi,” and want to reach out and hug him.
How do you express the inexpressible? That was Mary’s task when she left that
cemetery as the first witness of the risen Christ, according to John’s gospel.
That has been the preacher’s question ever since. Easter is not something we can
explain, as much as we may try. We may make it sound all nice and tidy by
speaking of God rolling away the stone and raising Jesus from the tomb, and that
in Christ the dead shall be raised, but in that mouthful we have more than we
could ever fully comprehend. Even the apostle Paul, in trying to explain the
resurrection of the dead at length to the folks in Corinth, ended up referring
to it as a “mystery”
(1 Corinthians 15:51),
a change that happens in an instant, in the blink of an eye, at the blast of a
trumpet.
How do you express the inexpressible? You simply tell what you’ve seen, blinking
away the tears as you go, like Mary. You say what you’ve heard, blowing away as
much of the confusion as you can, like Mary. You step into this new day God
gives with eyes wide open, looking up, again - like Mary. That’s how she did it
on that first Easter. How about you?
Let me close with the words of the apostle Paul to the folks in Colossae: “You
have been raised to new life with Christ (whether or not you fully
understand it all). Commit yourself to
the things that belong to such a life. Look to Christ — God’s right hand man —
and take your cues from him. Concentrate on the things that matter to Christ,
and don’t let yourselves get hooked into the agendas that preoccupy the world
around you. Your old life is behind you — dead and buried — and your new life
(no matter how much or little of it you grasp)
is intimately bound up with Christ, and lived in God. The full reality of this
new life is not visible to the general public yet (maybe not even fully
visible to you, either), but it will be.
Because your life is now bound to Christ, when Christ makes his triumphant
return to the public stage, you will be there with him, in all your glory, for
all to see”
(Colossians 3:1-4, Laughing Bird version).
©2014 Peter
L. Haynes
(you are welcome to borrow and, where / as appropriate, note
the source - myself or those from whom I have knowingly borrowed.)