WHERE IS JESUS?
a
sermon based on Luke 24:1-12
by Rev. Rick Thompson
One of the most famous battles in European history took place on June
18, 1815, at the village
of Waterloo
in Belgium. Napoleon was on the march, and all Europe was
terrified by the dictator’s rapid advance. British General Wellington
led allied troops against Napoleon. Anxious British citizens awaited
news of the outcome, which was transmitted across the English Channel by
signal lights.
Through a typical English fog, the English could barely make out the
message. The signal lights spelled it out: “W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N
D-E-F-E-A-T-E-D.” The dreadful news spread quickly through
England, and the nation was plunged into deep despair.
Early on a Sunday morning, some women made their way to the tomb of
Jesus. They were deep in grief and despair as well. On Friday, they
had witnessed the tragic and horrendous death of their Master. They had
been following him for a long time, supporting him and his disciples
financially and spiritually. And, now, their Master was dead. They had
watched where he was buried, and they came that Sunday morning, at the
crack of dawn, to carry out one final, loving act. They brought spices
and ointments so they could anoint his body in death.
You know what that would be like, because you’ve been there. You know
the power of death. You’ve stood at the final resting place of a friend
or relative or loved one, and you’ve experienced the emptiness and
helplessness that are the companions of grief. Like the women at the
tomb of Jesus with their spices, you’ve brought flowers or other
tributes to express your love and affection for the one who has died.
Perhaps you’ve even talked to that person, and found some comfort in
it–as well as sadness. But the reality is, as much as you’d like to see
that person, touch that person, laugh and eat with that person again,
nothing you do can bring that person back. Your loved one, your
relative, your friend is dead–and, as St. Paul reminds us in the second
reading, death is our last, and most formidable enemy. It is real. Its
power intimidates and paralyzes us, so that we are afraid to take risks,
sometimes afraid even to step, even tentatively, into another day.
We don’t have to be very attentive to know that we’re surrounded by
death: car accidents, wars, cancer, starvation, disasters, violence.
Day after day after day we hear about and see the power and reality of
death. And it’s easy to believe that death has the final word, the
ultimate power.
Even one with such a strong faith as Martin Luther could not always hold
onto hope and courage in the face of the challenges of his life.
Luther once spent three days moping around the house, deeply depressed
over something that had gone wrong.
Finally, his dear wife, Katie, had enough. That day, Katie got up, got
dressed, and greeted Martin. She was dressed in black–the color of
grief and mourning. “Who died?” Martin asked, more than a little
shaken to see her dressed that way.
“God died,” Katie replied.
Luther rebuked her. “That’s absurd! What do you mean, God is dead?
God cannot die!”
“Well,” replied Katie, “the way you’ve been acting, I was certain
God had died.”[1]
When we notice the world we live in, we can understand Luther’s despair.
And we can understand the despair of the British when they were
convinced that their forces had been defeated by Napoleon.
And we can understand the deep sadness and sense of loss of the women at
the tomb of Jesus, who believed that all they could do, now, was show
their love for their dead Master by visiting his tomb and caring for his
body.
But there’s more to the story of the Battle of Waterloo. If you know
much about history, you know that Napoleon’s mad quest for dominance of
Europe was ended there. You see, that fog over the English Channel had
prevented the British people from receiving the entire message sent by
the signal lights. When the fog cleared, they could see the whole
message. It didn’t say, “Wellington defeated.” It read,
“W-E-L-L-I-N-G-T-O-N D-E-F-E-A-T-E-D N-A-P-O-L-E-O-N.” That clear
message changed everything, in a moment, for the British, didn’t it![2]
And, as we read, there’s more to the story of the visit to the tomb of
Jesus. The women were in a fog, too–their vision limited by the shroud
of grief. They had forgotten a promise they had heard Jesus speak.
And, when they got to the tomb, they were jolted by their discovery that
the stone sealing the tomb had mysteriously been rolled away, and
that the body of Jesus was gone. Where was Jesus?
Inside the tomb, two heavenly messengers spoke, chiding the women: “Why
do you seek the living among the dead? Don’t you remember? Don’t you
remember when he told you, way back at the beginning of your journey
from Galilee,
that he would be betrayed and crucified in Jerusalem–and
that he would rise from the dead on the third day? Don’t you
remember?”
Well, after hearing that, they did remember. And they ran and
told the others the startling discovery they had made! But the
men–Peter and the others–thought it was nonsense. How could such a
thing be? They knew death held the power. And these were women
telling the story, after all–untrustworthy witnesses in those days, even
though they had been devoted to Jesus for as long as some of the men.
And, besides that, if Jesus wasn’t in the tomb, that didn’t mean
he was alive. After all, someone could have stolen the body from
the tomb–a not uncommon occurrence in those days.
Where was Jesus?
Later that day, they would be given the answer. Jesus was alive!
Death had been stripped of its power!
Two of them, still overcome by grief and despair, decided to go home to
Emmaus, a few miles away. They were joined by a stranger as they
shuffled along, and they shared how their hopes had been dashed by the
death of their Master, Jesus of Nazareth. They told the stranger how
the women had gone to the tomb, and reported the angels’ message, and
the men had raced there too, and all agreed the tomb was empty–but
where was Jesus?
And the stranger replied, “Don’t you remember your Bible? Don’t you
read there that the Messiah will be crucified and then rise from the
dead?”
The two forlorn disciples arrived at their home, the stranger still with
them. Keeping the custom of hospitality in that culture, they invited
the stranger in for a meal and lodging for the night.
And then something astounding happened! The stranger–the
guest--became the host! He took bread, and broke it, and
blessed it, and gave it to them–and then they knew where Jesus was!
Then they knew–JESUS WAS ALIVE, AND HE WAS WITH THEM STILL, AND HE WAS
GIVING THEM THE POWER TO KEEP ON BELIEVING, KEEP ON LIVING WITH HOPE,
AND TO SHARE HIS MESSAGE WITH THE WORLD!!
Jesus was alive then, and he is still alive now, and still meeting his
people, his church, just as he promised–in the words remembered, and in
the meal shared, where he serves as host.
Word and Meal. That’s where we meet Jesus. And, when we take in his
Word, and take in the meal, he lives in us!
And we
are fully alive!
Where is Jesus? He is with us! And, by the power of the Holy
Spirit, he is in us, each day, as we go into the world. He is
with us, reminding us that life–the life God gives–is indeed
stronger than death! He is with us, giving us the faith and courage and
hope to live joyfully in a world filled with despair, to live as if
death has no power–because it is true; death HAS no ultimate power
over God and those who belong to God in Christ!
Where is Jesus? In us. With us. And, through the message we carry–“Christ
is alive, and forgives sins, and gives life to the dead”–and through
the lives we live, empowered by that message, Christ is in the world.
So where do you think you will see Jesus, this coming week, as
you go in his name?
I
can tell you that you’ll see Jesus, but I can’t tell you where.
I
can promise you this, though: when you come back next week, and
the week after that, and the week after that, and bring your story with
you, and you open yourself to that place where your story is met by the
ancient stories from the church’s book, and you receive the meal in
which Jesus promises to be present–well, you will meet Jesus
there.
Now, we won’t have brass players next week, and most of the beautiful
flowers will be taken home, and we won’t likely all be dressed in our
bright Easter clothes, but we will have the essentials: God’s
Word, God’s meal, and God’s people, gathered in one place.
And when that happens, we can be sure of this: Christ is alive! And
Christ is with us!
Yes, Christ is alive. And how do we know? Because he keeps his
promise. Christ comes to live in us, and to go with us and lead us into
the world, confident, hopeful, bubbling over with the news that our
God–the God we know in Christ–our God is a God of life.
Abundant, eternal, life!
AMEN!!
