“But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.”
I wish I’d had the guts, or at least the foresight, to conclude the Easter gospel with that phrase. “But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.” That’s what Luke says was the reaction of the disciples to this report from the women, and I suspect something in my own subconscious rebels against the thought that here we are, in church on the holiest day of the year, all dressed up—and you look great, by the way—gorgeous flowers, triumphant and stirring music, this very dramatic Gospel procession to announce the most glorious truth of all that Christ has been risen and then to add, “Well, maybe.” But that’s exactly what the disciples said perhaps if even in more emphatic and colorful language.
Frankly, the candor of the New Testament accounts of Jesus’ resurrection is comforting. We’ve just noted Luke’s reference to the disciples’ skepticism, and Mark is especially enigmatic about the resurrection when he writes, “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid.” In fact, Mark ends his gospel there which suggests that if Mark were the only gospel this whole Christianity thing might have never gotten off the ground.
John’s gospel has the famous story of Doubting Thomas who is perhaps the patron saint of all skeptics and maybe even all scientists. The FDA comes to mind: years of clinical trials before a drug is deemed safe and effective but even then, “caveat emptor,” or, “buyer beware.” But that was the context the New Testament is completely honest about. The concept of resurrection wasn’t new in the First Century. But here was the first test case, as it were. Jesus’ death wasn’t a question, the scriptures are brutally clear about that, but you tell me, how easy is it to believe that someone you’ve just seen publicly executed is now walking around, large as life, and, after all, it’s only women, typically hysterical, who are providing the news. (Boo, hiss, Rector)
Let me suggest that perhaps the Resurrection wasn’t the most important miracle here but rather the miracle of belief. What was it that turned these frightened, cowering disciples into those who were willing to risk their lives in the belief that Jesus had been raised. In fact, that’s the miracle of the Church, it’s the miracle that you and I are even here today, that we are willing to take the time and the energy and the fortitude to dare believe as well.
But let’s return to those disciples and linger with this business of being afraid. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John are all insistent that fear was the first obstacle to belief. The women who come to the tomb are fearful, even terrified, and the rest of the disciples were fearful for their own lives because if Jesus could be crucified, so could they: guilt by association. Palestine in the First Century had a culture of fear because of the Roman occupation. It was a police state. Anger, fear, resentment, terrorists: we didn’t invent these in the 21st Century, they were all there in the lifetime of Jesus and in the Early Church. And yet, just as Mary and the shepherds were told by the angel at Jesus’ birth not to be afraid, so it is that at Jesus’ death and resurrection the angels are equally insistent, “Don’t be afraid.” But to be sure, twenty centuries later, we are still in a culture of fear and anxiety. The environment, Iraqi occupation, terrorism, debt, global poverty, hunger and disease—you and I have every reason to be afraid. But I find in my own life even though those outward things press upon me, it’s the inner things that can be truly bedeviling, the inner fears that freeze me and are the more significant obstacles to faith and trust.
So what are we afraid of? What am I afraid of? Probably lots of things. For those of us who are extroverts I think we’re always afraid of what other people think. I imagine the disciples felt the same thing when people thought they were crazy. Lots of us are also afraid of losing control, of allowing our emotions to peak out from behind a stiff upper lip or a confident demeanor. Maybe there are secrets in our lives we’re afraid might be revealed. In fact those secrets often have a multigenerational stubbornness about them the Bible certainly acknowledges when it says that sins of the parents are visited upon the children from generation to generation.
We could name a few more, but one fear that I believe is truly universal and maybe sums up all the rest is the fear that we are unloved or that we are unlovable. That fear has many guises: loneliness, poor self esteem, inflated self esteem, not being picked for the team, being ignored, being abused. Honesty suffers because of that fear since if others know us for who we really are, we’ll be rejected or at least we fear we will. I wonder if the disciples were afraid because if Jesus were alive it would expose their denial of him, their disloyalty, the thin veneer of their friendship, that it would expose the shame they felt that they had been unworthy of his love for them.
I received a letter last week from someone who has struggled, perhaps his whole lifetime, with the fear of inadequacy, the threat of failure, and a nagging inner voice that tells him he’s not worth loving. He wanted to wish me a joyous Easter and to report that his life has been changed by the daily decision to give his life and his will over to the care of God. He writes,
And how wonderful to embrace…“thy will be done” and believe it, want it, exalt in it! More and more it’s coming naturally to me to be joyous and good. When I make a mistake I try to realize it and if possible correct it, or at least acknowledge it. Today, every day feels like a miracle, a rebirth.
And then he concluded with a meditation that had particular meaning for him:
There are no part-time contemplatives, just as there are no part-time Christians, nor part-time people. From the day that we begin to believe in Christ and acknowledge him as Lord, there is no moment—awake, asleep, walking, sitting, working, learning, eating, playing, that is not marked by God’s hold on us, (there is no moment)which is not lived in the name of Jesus and the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. (Prayer by Abhishiktenanda, Delhi, 1967)
There is a hymn somewhere that begins, “Oh love that casts out fear.” I think that’s what the Resurrection is fundamentally all about. I can’t be especially energized by debates that try to apply some sort of scientific analysis on the nature and DNA of Christ’s resurrected body because, frankly, Scripture doesn’t care. What Scripture says, is that despite all odds, despite every reason to the contrary, Christ’s resurrection transformed a fearful people into a force for love. You and I, can you believe it, are living proof of the resurrection. And so this very same love that casts out fear is a personal gift offered to me and offered to you, a gift I’ve not especially earned, a gift that comes often as a surprise, but a gift nonetheless that allows me also to know that there is no moment in my life “awake, asleep, walking, sitting, working, learning, eating, playing, that is not marked by God’s hold on me,” that is not marked by God’s love for me. That’s the true power of the Resurrection. That’s the true miracle of the Resurrection.
And so wake up in the knowledge and confidence of God’s love. Go to sleep in God’s love. Walk, sit, work, learn, eat and play in God’s love. There is nothing and there is no one God cannot redeem so take heart, my dear brothers and sisters, take heart: if Christ has been raised so will we be raised. All is forgiven, death cannot win, and we shall inherit the Kingdom. Amen.
