Great Endings [Trinity Sunday A - Matthew 28:16-20]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Matthew 28:16-20

 

Great endings

 

What makes for a great ending?  Well, I suppose it should leave the reader, at once, feeling satisfied and yet still wanting more.  I suppose it should emerge naturally from all that came before, hinted at in subtle ways throughout the story but also spontaneous to the touch.  I suppose it should stir powerful emotions in the soul of its audience.  I suppose it should, finally, make the reader dream up the sequel, imagine a world beyond the back cover.

 

All four Gospels have great endings.  Mark’s Gospel concludes with a dramatic cliffhanger: “So [the women] went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”  And that would be a sad ending to Easter Sunday – except that we know that there is more to the story.  The word did get out.  We, the readers, got the word.  We know the Easter story.  And so we can be assured then, that the women were not silent for long.

 

Luke’s Gospel, like a Marvel movie or a Fast and Furious, skillfully sets up the sequel, the Book of Acts: “While [Jesus] was blessing them, he withdrew from them and was carried up into heaven.  And [the disciples] worshiped him, and returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God.”  The disciples did return to Jerusalem but they did not stay in the temple forever.  They first moved the party to the Upper Room.  And then they got very busy and carried the Gospel all over the place.  Acts is an action movie; it’s on the go.  The wind blew, the fire danced, the Holy Spirit showed up, and Pentecost happened.  And then kept happening.  And even though Jesus’ face isn’t on the posters for part two, his Spirit is all over the book of Acts.

 

John’s Gospel poetically captures our imagination at the ending: “There are also many other things that Jesus did; if every one of them were written down, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.”  What other things?!  After reading an entire Gospel, one packed with stunning signs of divine activity, we are left to wonder of all the amazing deeds of Jesus shrouded still mystery – the ones that didn’t make the final cut.  And we are left to wonder: what might the Risen Christ still be up to in our world?  What might he do in our lives even today?

 

And then there is Matthew.  Matthew’s ending is so great, it is called the “Great Commission.”  “The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted. And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’”

 

It is a great ending – one of those endings that leaves us imagining a world beyond the back cover. 

 

But for the disciples, in that moment, imagining anything beyond the back cover, any semblance of a coherent future, after the emotional rollercoaster they were riding, probably felt like a fool’s errand.

 

It is actually a miracle that the disciples even show up.  They are told to go to a certain mountain to rendezvous with their dead friend.  It feels unreal, like a prank, like a cruel joke. 

 

But they show up.  Because of faith.  Or because they are simply looking for something to believe in after all of the meaning had been stripped from their lives.  The disciples arrive on the mountain in a fog.  They were, undoubtedly, still stunned.  Holy Week was a whirlwind, a tornado that ripped through their lives and left everything in shambles.  Within a matter of days, the crowds turned and the mood changed; the shouts of joy became screams of jeer and murder.  A happy Passover meal became the solemn Last Supper.  Controversy devolved into condemnation sometime between Thursday night and Friday morning.  And before rush hour on Good Friday, Jesus was dead, being pulled off of a bloody cross by some bored Roman soldiers. 

 

And Judas… Lost in everything that happened to Jesus, is that one of their closest friends was also dead.  Judas had been their companion, one of the gang.  They could have never suspected someone who had seen all of those miracles and heard all of the teachings and experienced all of that amazing Jesus’ love.  All thirteen dined together on Thursday, by the weekend, they were down to eleven.  Jesus dead because of Judas.  Judas dead because of Judas.

 

And then, in a twist that cannot be explained but only experienced, back to twelve.  Because Jesus, who died on a cross, who died a painful and terrible public death, who was buried in a tomb, is now alive.  And standing right in front of them.  And what do you do in that moment?  They worshiped but some doubted.  Of course they did.

 

They were eleven nobodies with an impossible story.  And a Lord who was leaving again – though under far happier circumstances.  And with an overwhelming mission: a mission to save the world.  And with a promise – a promise these battered men needed more than the air they breathed.

 

Matthew’s Gospel was written down about fifty years after this ending, five decades after Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension.  Five decades after the Great Commission was dropped in the laps of those remaining eleven.  This Gospel was written to a small group of Christians in Syria, far away from Jerusalem, far away from Galilee, far away from the footprints Jesus left on this earth.  Like the disciples, they were just a handful of nobodies with an impossible story – one that was proving to be a cause of persecution and ridicule. 

 

But the difference between the little first century Church and that band of original disciples was: fifty years later, there was no Jesus in sight.  The same was: they too had their doubts.

 

And yet they stood at the end of the age, white-knuckling the little bit of hope they could muster.  With this great commission compelling them to tell that impossible story of that unseen Risen Lord, compelling them to lead people to the water and drown their desperate souls to life in a Triune mystery.  They stood at the end of the age, poor, ridiculed fools, humbly holding in their hearts the power of heaven and earth.  All because of a promise: “I am with you always.”   

 

What makes a great ending?  I suppose it should leave you, at once, feeling satisfied and yet still wanting more.  I suppose it should make you imagine a world beyond the back cover.  

 

The Gospel ended.  And then the disciples walked away from the mountain and laid the foundation of heaven on earth.  Matthew’s people carried the Spirit of Jesus into the wild frontiers of the world.  Generation after generation of disciples have found divine companionship in enchanted waters.  Generation after generation of disciples have found that Jesus does not leave his children alone – even at the jagged edge of the age.

 

What makes a great ending?  Sometimes it is what comes next.  In this case, it is you, standing on the edge of the apocalypse, with a head full of dreams and a heart full of Jesus.