When the Sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices so that they might go to anoint Jesus’ body. Very early on the first day of the week, just after sunrise, they were on their way to the tomb and they asked each other, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance of the tomb?” But when they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had been rolled away. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man dressed in a white robe sitting on the right side, and they were alarmed. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.’” Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
(Mark 16:1-8)
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I wonder how many times we’ve said “Happy Easter” already this morning? And, for that matter, over the last few days. It’s the secular greeting for the season - approved for use everywhere. But long ago, in the earliest days of our faith, the traditional Easter greeting wasn’t a simple expression of good wishes - it was an assurance of conviction. Christians would greet one another with the words “Christ is risen!” And the reply would be “He is risen, indeed!” Let’s try it now.
Christ is risen!
(He is risen, indeed!)
This morning we read Mark’s account of the early hours of the first Easter morning. Mark's Gospel - as it often does - gives us the barebones outline of the story, but nothing more. It's that way throughout the Gospel of Mark, so I suppose there's no reason to think that Mark would treat the Easter story any differently. What we know from Mark's account of the first Easter morning is that a few women went to a tomb to anoint the dead body of Jesus, they encountered something that they could neither explain nor understand, and their initial reaction was to be bewildered and frightened. Other Gospel writers filled in some details, but those are the barebones, with a lot being left to the imagination of the reader of Mark's Gospel. But Mark's Gospel itself is largely empty of details about resurrection morning, which - the more I thought about it - seemed appropriate to the occasion. All we really know is that an empty tomb was discovered - and that discovery set off a course of events that would change lives and the world, and that still is changing lives and the world. All because of an empty tomb.
We don't often connect Easter with emptiness, do we. Our culture has turned it into something to which the word "emptiness" seems quite foreign. Like Christmas, western culture has taken Easter and in many ways left it spiritually powerless. I suspect that for many people, when they awoke this morning their first thought was about chocolate, or maybe the Easter ham for dinner, or perhaps an Easter egg hunt. And all that's good fun and I don't condemn it or criticize those who enjoy it. But it misses the spirit of the original Easter. We think of Easter today as a simply joyful event, with (if you're a Christian, and you're able to set aside the distractions) the resurrection of Jesus being the central event. But I started to have a different perspective. What if we were to go back two thousand years. What if we were to put ourselves into the heads of the first disciples? What were they feeling; what were they thinking? I suspect that the joy we associate with Easter was slow to develop. In fact, as that first Easter dawned, I suspect that overwhelmingly what those first disciples felt was sheer and utter emptiness.” Morning dawned, but they were still numb from the events of the last few days, still paralyzed by the image of Jesus - beaten and bruised and bloodied - hanging dead on a cross. They were drained; they were empty. They were waiting to be filled. But with what?
In their emptiness, they were filled first with despair as they lamented that "it happened." In the stark reality of that first early Easter morning, the disciples must have been stricken with the memory of Jesus' words - that he would go to Jerusalem, be betrayed and arrested and beaten and crucified. At the foot of the cross on Friday, they must have thought "it happened." On the lonely Sabbath Saturday, confronting the absence of Jesus, they must have thought "it happened." In those early morning hours on Sunday, heading for a tomb, the women must have thought "it happened." It really happened. As hard as it was to believe after all they had been through together, it had happened. Jesus was gone. "It happened." Confronted by the empty tomb, despair filled their own emptiness.
But despair fell away before the reality of the emptiness of the tomb, and it was replaced with confusion. Suddenly, “It happened” became “what happened?” Expecting to find a dead body, the women found - nothing. Racing after them, Peter and John found only folded grave clothes. It was bizarre, to say the least. Bewildering. Mystifying. How many more words can we think of to try to get into the heads of those who made the discovery. Mary Magdalene assumed the body had been taken away by someone. The scene among the disciples must have been mass confusion at this point, and perhaps a little bit of fear. Now, confronted by the empty tomb, it was confusion and uncertainty that filled their own emptiness.
But it would fall away as well, and before the reality of the empty tomb the question “what happened” gave way to the sudden realization that “something happened.” They may not yet have fully realized what it was, but there must have been a growing realization in their hearts and in their souls that this was more than just a mysteriously empty tomb. Too much had happened over the course of Jesus’ ministry, and the disciples had seen too many things. It couldn’t just end with his body disappearing. Something more was going on; something had happened. Confusion was giving way to amazement. Something unbelievable and inexplicable had happened. You can imagine puzzled and fearful looks on the faces of the disciples suddenly becoming thoughtful looks as they contemplated this mystery they were confronted with. Now, confronted by the empty tomb, it was amazement that filled their own emptiness.
But there was one more step that had to be taken. Amazement would finally give way to assurance. The realization that “something happened” finally gave way to the certainty that “that happened.” Jesus had told them that that he would go to Jerusalem, be betrayed and arrested and beaten and crucified, but now, perhaps, they finally remembered. His words hadn’t ended that way. He had promised that his life wouldn’t end with being crucified. He had made them a promise: three days later he would rise again. They remembered. Finally, confronted by the empty tomb, their own emptiness was filled with assurance - the absolute conviction that what Jesus had promised them would happen had actually happened. He had risen! He was still with them! Death had not defeated him.
Still today, we don’t know exactly what happened. The Gospels don’t describe the resurrection to us. What they describe is an empty tomb, and the growing assurance and conviction of the disciples that death had not defeated Jesus. What they describe is the certainty of the disciples that he was still with them in some real and tangible way - not just in their memories, but as a part of their lives and as their guiding force. That’s the heart and soul of the Christian faith. Jesus lives! Death did not hold him! Nothing could hold him! Death will not hold us! Nothing can hold us! The story tells us that no matter how bad or tough or difficult or downright awful our circumstances at any given time might be - we will not be crushed, we will not be defeated, and we will always triumph, because Jesus has triumphed. So, join with me one more time in the traditional Easter greeting exchanged among Christian disciples:
Christ is risen!
(He is risen, indeed!)
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