| Rector’s
Sermon
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| It was dark in there. Her leg was held fast by a small concrete beam which restricted her movement, not that she had much space to move in anyway. Her hearing aid had fallen out so she could not hear if anyone was looking for her. She thought about her life, she thought about her classmates, she thought about her family, whether or not she would see them again. “Will I die here? Will anyone look for me? Lord Jesus, be with me, for I am afraid.” I can well imagine that’s what went through Eleonora Calesini’s mind as she lay trapped in the rubble of an earthquake in L’Aquila, Italy. She was trapped for 42 hours when the apartment building in which she and some other fellow students of the University in L’Aquila collapsed. But somehow a pair of fallen concrete pillars created a small survival space for her, a space, however, that became her worst nightmare with the thoughts and fears that come with being buried alive. She would have perished save for the efforts of her father who rushed to L’Aquila from their hometown near Rimini in an effort to find his daughter. He spotted a piece of furniture that he recognized in the wreckage of the apartment building and directed rescuers to begin clearing out the debris, first by hand, then by using big earth-removal machines. As nightfall drew close and they had given up any hope of finding her, a firefighter stuck his head under the rubble and began to shout, “She’s alive! She’s alive!” Eleonora was saved. Two thousand years before this dramatic rescue another young woman was confronted with the prospect of death and a great stone that needed to be moved. It was Mary Magdalene who came to the tomb of Jesus wondering who would move the great stone blocking the entrance to his tomb so that she could anoint his body with spices and ointments, a task that had been postponed because of the Sabbath the day before. What was Mary Magdalene thinking as she approached Jesus’ tomb? Death was certainly on her mind because she had witnessed the brutal crucifixion of Jesus the Friday before and perhaps feared for her own life as one of Jesus’ disciples. Perhaps she worried about the loneliness Jesus must have felt on the cross when most of his disciples kept a safe distance from the Roman soldiers and the nails they used to keep the body of Jesus in place as the cross was raised for him to hang upon. But on Sunday morning that great, unmovable stone would block her way from reaching Jesus, and it was a problem. In these two dramas in which we have found Eleonora Calesini and Mary Magdalene, an earthquake is something of a common denominator. Certainly we are aware of the tragic character of the earthquake that caused so much damage in central Italy last week, but we might be less aware of St. Matthew’s description of the stone being rolled away from the tomb of Jesus. He writes, The Bible often associates earthquakes with important events signifying God’s presence. When Jesus died on the cross, Matthew records, Earlier in the Bible we might remember the experience of Elijah, God’s great prophet, who fled his enemies and found refuge in a small cave in a mountainside. Elijah is desperate to hear God’s voice. A favorite hymn, “Dear Lord and father of mankind,” enshrines this experience with this verse: For Eleonora Calesini, when the rock of her captivity had been removed she found her father in the sunshine of her freedom there to embrace her. For Mary Magdalene when the stone was rolled away for her, she found the Sun of righteousness there to offer her a freedom she could never have imagined. Both for Eleonora and for Mary, death was not the victor in those instances, and that’s why today despite the Good Fridays that confront all of us, despite the inequities of justice that confound our sense of what’s fair and what’s not, despite our fears and our anxieties, we can say, “Alleluia, Christ is risen.” Mary Magdalene has received a fair amount of attention in recent years beginning with the Da Vinci Code’s assertion that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married and had a child. The Da Vinci Code was on the New York Times Best Seller List for months and months, if not several years, but I would remind you that the category is “Fiction” as opposed to “Nonfiction.” The more scholarly side of celebrating Mary Magdalene’s place and witness in the Early Church had to do with the discovery of a so-called “Gospel of Mary Magdalene” consisting of some papyrus fragments of about 50 verses ascribed to Mary with a description of a special revelation given to her by the Risen Lord as well as a dialogue between Mary and St. Peter. That Mary Magdalene held a special place in the life of the Early Church, we can have no doubt. That Mary witnessed something extraordinary after Christ’s death, we can also have no doubt. Jesus was for Mary Magdalene fully human in his friendship, in his inclusion of her in his inner circle, in his dying, and in his death. But Jesus was also for Mary Magdalene truly divine in his resurrection, in his sending her forth with a ministry of proclamation, in his love and forgiveness. I have no idea exactly what Eleonora might have been thinking during those forty-two hours trapped in the rubble of an earthquake, but I can well imagine her need for the human Jesus who shared her pain, who kept vigil with her, who comforted her. But I can also well imagine her need for the divine Christ who challenged death’s grip, who led her father and the firefighters to find her, who insists that he is “the way, the truth, and the life.” I, too, need for Jesus to be truly human. I need to know the stories of his life and his teaching. I need to believe that he is a friend, that he felt, that he had questions, that he struggled with what was the right thing to do. But I also need for Jesus to be the Christ, for Jesus to be divine, for Jesus to be the Messiah because I need to know that the way Jesus loves me is the way God loves me. And so just like Eleonora and just like Mary Magdalene, I have rocks or boulders or slabs of cement that keep me trapped or fearful or confused, that block my way to the truth. How about the economy? Does that qualify for a rock or a boulder or a slab of cement? For those who are out of work it would certainly qualify. But what about the smaller stones or the pebbles that at first seem so insignificant but tend to pile up in our lives and ever so gradually become cemented together behind our backs, or even right in front of us, but we don’t want to see them? One small indiscretion piled upon another. One bit of dishonesty followed by another. One instance of abuse that becomes a pattern. Just like Eleonora who wakes up from her sleeping to discover herself pinned down and utterly helpless. Just like the sheep in one of Jesus’ parables who simply “nibble themselves lost.” This is when I need Jesus to be divine. This is when I need a savior. This is when I need the Resurrection to be real. And I have found that in my life, not just because I’m a priest and am supposed to know that, but because just like you I’m a human being in need of forgiveness, in need of what only God can provide, in need of crying out, “Who will roll this stone away for me?” Is it like that for you? Have you come here this morning with that same need for God to be real and for Christ’s Resurrection to be something more than a good feeling? Is there a part of your life that’s out of control or barren or somehow hopeless? Name the rock to be removed so to find the freedom God intends for you, new like only God’s victory in Christ can provide. New faith. New hope. New love. It’s there, it’s right there. God wants you to have it. Jesus died for you to have it. And the Spirit, oh that Spirit, will empower you beyond measure to have it. Amen. |
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