“A New Beginning”— Rev. Brent Gundlah
First Reading (Colossians 3:1-4, NRSVUE)
Gospel Reading (Matthew 28:1-10, NRSVUE)
About this time of year back in 1957, Elvis Presley — the “King of Rock and Roll” — released a song that was number one on the Billboard Top 100 for nine weeks and eventually went double platinum. That song was titled “All Shook Up,” and the second verse of it goes as follows:
“Oh, well, my hands are shaky, and my knees are weak. I can’t seem to stand on my own two feet. Who do you thank when you have such luck?”
Well, according to today’s reading from Matthew, which tells us what happened on the first Easter morning, you’d have thanked an earlier and far greater king: “The King of Kings” — you know, Jesus.
He’d been crucified a few days earlier and that evening his body was wrapped in linen and placed in a brand new tomb. As Mary Magdalene and the other Mary (who was probably the mother of James and Joseph) sat across from the tomb watching Jesus be laid to rest, a giant stone was rolled in front of it — though it’s not clear whether this was meant to keep people out or to keep Jesus in.
You see, he made it pretty clear that he planned on coming back after he’d been killed: “After three days I will rise again,” are the exact words he used. The chief priests, the Pharisees, and Pontius Pilate — who all were complicit in Jesus’s death — are afraid that the disciples will come and steal Jesus’s body in order to claim that he had, in fact, been raised from the dead (or at least that’s what they say they’re afraid of); so Pilate orders some Roman soldiers to make the tomb secure by sealing the stone that had been rolled in front of it and by standing guard over it.
As our story begins, the first day of the week (which was the third day after Jesus had died — the one on which he said he was going to rise again) is dawning and the two Marys go to see Jesus’s tomb. And that’s when things get, as Elvis might have described it, all shook up.
Suddenly, there’s a great earthquake; an angel of the Lord (with an appearance like lightning and clothes as white as snow) descends from heaven, rolls back the stone and sits on it as he waits for Mary Magdalene and the other Mary to come and have a look inside (though we all know what they’re going to find in there). Matthew says that the terrified guards — these well-trained, heavily-armed, battle-tested Roman soldiers — shook and became like dead men.
It makes sense that these soldiers were a little rattled; after all, it had been a rather seismically active week in the Holy Land. If Matthew is to be taken at his word, there had been another earthquake just a couple of days earlier right after Jesus had taken his last breath on the cross. But there’s way more for them to be shook up about than that. Earthquakes are one thing (they do happen in this world from time to time), but the appearance by that angel is on a whole different level.
When the angel arrives, he tells the two Marys not to be afraid (though when has that ever made anyone who was afraid less afraid?);
then he informs them that Jesus isn’t in the tomb (though it kinda seems like they already had an inkling that he wasn’t);
then he invites them to come have a look inside for themselves (though they probably would have done that anyway);
then he proclaims that Jesus has been raised from the dead (to which they likely replied: “Duh!”);
and then he orders them to go share and the good news with the rest of the disciples (as if they really needed to be told to do that).
As the women are running from the tomb with great fear and great joy to share what they’ve just experienced with their friends, they happen to run into Jesus along the way. He greets them, they worship him, he also tells them not to be afraid, and commands them to tell the others to go to Galilee, where they will see him.
Now, in this story, fear seems to come in different shapes and sizes. Both the angel and Jesus tell the two Marys not to be afraid, but their particular variety of fear seems more like a marvelous kind of awe, really.
In fairness, they’ve also had a pretty eventful few days; their beloved Jesus was crucified (as he said he would be), there was an earthquake, they went to the tomb to “see” (perhaps to “see” if the other part of what Jesus said would happen had happened which, of course, it had).
A dazzling angel appeared out of nowhere (and that kind of thing doesn’t happen every day) to tell them that it had, in fact, happened (though they would have figured this out for themselves in another minute or two) and then there was another earthquake. Next they met up with Jesus, who was supposed to be dead but clearly had risen like he said he would (and that kind of thing doesn’t happen every day either).
Was this all terrifying? Sure, but terrifying in a good way — terrifying in the best possible way, really (well, except perhaps for the earthquake part because they’re just plain scary).
But those soldiers who were guarding the tomb were grappling with a different set of fears. Jesus somehow managed to leave the tomb right under their noses, and so they clearly have some explaining to do to the powers that be. As they are headed into Jerusalem to face the music, these soldiers must have been wracking their brains trying to figure out what to say, which must have created quite dilemma for them. This part of the story is not part of the traditional Easter reading from Matthew but it is worth thinking about.
These soldiers had been right there with the Marys and experienced a lot of what they experienced — the earthquake, the mysterious angel who swooped down and moved the stone away from the tomb. These soliders were professionals — they knew that no one had sneaked past them and taken Jesus’s body; but they also knew that if they told the authorities what had actually happened, the authorities would have thought they were crazy.
However, these soldiers also knew that if they didn’t tell the authorities what had actually happened, they would have been seen as incompetent and probably court-martialed for dereliction of duty. According to Matthew, the soldiers decided to go with the prize behind door number one; they must have discerned that it was better to go with the truth (which is generally the right choice) and just let the chips fall wherever they may. Telling the truth means they wouldn’t have a bunch of lies they’d need to keep straight — and besides, they saw they what they saw, right?
But the priests and elders and Pilate are a whole different kind of afraid after those soldiers tell them what happened out there at Jesus’s tomb. It appears as though they might actually believe that what the soldiers tell them is true — at the very least, they definitely believe that a lot of other people are going to believe that it’s true — and they’re quite scared about that.
Because if enough people believe that Jesus has risen, that the Messiah has conquered death just like he said he would, then the entire system of oppression they’ve partnered with the Romans to create and perpetuate is pretty much doomed. So these terrible leaders do what such leaders throughout history have dependably done when they feel threatened: they lie and they bribe, they concoct and they scheme, so they can continue to exploit the people they’re supposed to be looking out for.
They promise the soldiers that they’ll keep them out of trouble as further compensation for their dishonesty if the governor ends up hearing about all this (how could he not end up hearing about all of this?). So, one can only wonder what happened when the whole house of cards came tumbling down; did everyone just start pointing fingers at everyone else (because the powers-that-be have dependably done that throughout history too).
And make no mistake about it — the house of cards did, in fact, come tumbling down; for if it hadn’t, this story would have remained hidden amidst a web of lies and we wouldn’t be talking about it two thousand years later. Jesus didn’t stay dead and his story didn’t die either. Because no matter how hard people may try to hide the truth, they can’t ever manage to do so for very long.
A system built upon injustice and violence and lies will always be exposed for what it is really is, at some point. And we should find some hope in this, as people always have, even in the darkest of times.
Because the promise of the One who lived and died and rose to eternal life is that the status quo will once again be all shook up — and that justice and peace and the truth will someday prevail.
So, on this Easter Sunday, as we gather once again to celebrate that promise, let us give thanks to God for that good luck.