Showing posts with label Year A. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Year A. Show all posts

Easter Sermon: Stumbling in the Dark with Mary

An Easter sermon, preached at St. John Lutheran Church of Prairie Hill, Easter 2011


Alleluia! Christ is Risen
Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia.

“After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb.”

It really is a little detail; one that we could easily overlook. On that first Easter morning, the women walked to the tomb in darkness. The four Gospel accounts of the resurrection can be a little sketchy – they seem to have a hard time describing this wonderful and amazing thing that has happened. But about this, they agree. The women walked to the tomb in the dark.

It’s not something that you and I do a whole lot of: walking in the dark.
Anywhere we go in this modern world of ours, we have light. Sidewalks and parking lots are bathed in the glow of streetlights and floodlights. If we walk away from those lights, we carry a flashlight. Rarely do we really walk in the dark.

But that’s what the women did that morning. Perhaps they carried a flickering candle, as they made their way through the darkness, but that’s all. Outside the city, away from the houses, into the graveyard. In the dark.

Can you imagine how frightening that must have been? Did they stumble as they walked in the dark? Trip on the rocks along the way?

Regardless, they made the journey. They had too. You see, the women that day were not just in the darkness of early morning. No, they were also making their way through the deep darkness of life. Trying to make sense of the events of the last few days, to find a way forward.

They were in the darkness of grief: Jesus, their friend and teacher was dead. They were in the darkness of hopelessness: Their vision of a better future died with Jesus. They were in the darkness of anxiety: What would they do next? Were they in danger too?  It could have been the middle of the day, and still they would have been in darkness.

We may have streetlights and flashlights, but this is the darkness that we still walk in. In this room, whose life has not been touched by the sharp pain of grief? Who has looked at the pile of bills on the counter and felt hopeless? Who has not looked at the lives of our loved ones – of parents, or children, or nieces and nephews – and felt anxiety about their future? Who among us has not walked in the darkness?

We know what the darkness is. We know what it is to stumble through the darkness of life, and struggle to find our way.

And so Magdalene and the other Mary walked. What else could they do? Sometimes it’s all you can do. Put one foot in front of the other. One day at a time. At least provide Jesus with a decent funeral – it’s the least we can do. Stumble on, through the darkness.
And they walked to the graveyard. And in a moment, everything changed.

The stone was rolled away, the tomb was empty – He is not here, he is risen! Those words, that fact, changed everything. He is risen!

Grief became joy.
Fear became love.
Darkness became light.
Death became life.

The only one who could show them the way; the only one who could restore their hope; the only one who could lighten their darkness; came to them – there in the dark, there in the middle of death, in the graveyard – came to them to bringing light, bringing life, bringing joy.

Sure enough, they still had to face the future, they still had a whole heap of challenges ahead, but they knew that they would be facing those challenges with Jesus at their side; they knew that they would be facing those challenges wrapped in the love of God.  He is risen! At that moment, they knew that not even death could separate them from God’s love.

And that is the promise to each of you this Easter as well. God knows the challenges we face: illnesses, work, family, money, hopelessness, loneliness, anxiety, grief, sadness, fear. God knows all about the darkness our lives.

You. God’s child. Made God’s own in the waters of baptism. You. God loves you so dearly, that nothing can keep God from coming and walking beside you, nothing can keep God from wrapping you in love.
 In the darkness of life, God is there with you. In the troubles of life, God is there with you. Nothing can keep God from your side. That is the promise this Easter. Not even death can separate God from you. That is how strong God’s love is for you.

He is risen, for you.
He battled against death and won, for you.

To paraphrase Saint Paul: If God – the God who raised Jesus from the dead – if God is for us, what darkness can overcome us? If God – the God who raised Jesus from the dead – is for us, what do we have to fear?  He is Risen!

The truth is, I don’t know what’s going on in your life. I don’t know what your struggles are. What I do know is this: God will not let anything – not even death – separate you from the love of Jesus.

Yes, there are still challenges in this life. This side of God’s kingdom there always will be. But today, we know how the story ends.

Christ is risen!
God’s love wins!
Light defeats darkness!
Life defeats death!

This is the day, Christ burst the chains of death.
This is the day, Christ broke the seal on the tomb
This is the day, Christ battled the powers of death, and won.
And he did it, he did it all, for you.
He did it all because of his great love for you.

Christ is Risen, for you! Alleluia!

Punctuation & Theology

This morning's Gospel lesson comes from John 9 - the story of the man born blind. It posed an important question for Jesus' disciples: Who was to blame? In the ancient world (and in the minds of many still today!), if something goes wrong in your life, you must have done something to deserve it. If you are sick, if your fortunes dry up, if you are affect by a tragedy or an accident, it must be because of some sin in your life. (It is worth noting that this is also the perspective of Job's "friends," who try to find out what sin it is that he hasn't confessed that is causing the tragedy in his life).

This man, however, was born blind. How could he have sinned before his birth, and caused his blindness? And so, they ask, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"

And Jesus answered: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work." (NRSV)

Jesus takes the blame off of the parents and the man himself. But, it appears that there is still blame. At least as rendered by the NRSV, the man is blind for God's purposes - if there is blame to assign, it appears that God is (at least implicitly) to blame.

But what happens if you move around the punctuation a little? If you re-think the editor's/translator's decisions about how to parse the sentence structure? You might wind up with something like this:

And Jesus answered: “Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind. But that God’s works might be revealed in him, we must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work."
A portion of uncial manuscript Codec
Sinaiticus without punctuation.
public domain image

A little change in punctuation, and you wind up with a much different theology. It's not that God made this man blind to show his glory. It's that this man was born blind. Period. End of sentence. Just a fact of life. This world is broken, and tragedy happens. The question is not about why he is blind or who is to blame. The fact is, he is blind. The question is what are we going to do now? "That God's work might be revealed, we must work the works of him who sent me." He's blind, what are we going to do about it?

How often in our lives do we occupy our time playing the blame game? Trying to figure out what went wrong, how it went wrong, and who's to blame?

What Jesus wants to know is, what are we going to in the face of the brokenness and tragedy of this world?