Followers [Easter Sunday - Luke 24:1-12]

 The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

Luke 24:1-12

 

Followers

Cathedral of All Saints

 

Unlike most preachers, Mary Magdalene was not worried about her Easter Sunday sermon.  Maybe she should have been, because, according to the Gospel, it was a flop.  But she wasn’t.  She had something else on her mind when she left the house early on Easter morning.

 

It had been a terrible weekend, the worst of her life.  And that is why she was dragging her listless body, her broken heart, and her satchel of spices down the barren road of a barren cemetery.  It was Easter Sunday and Mary wasn’t thinking about a sermon; she was thinking about death.

 

It was all she could think about.  Because what she saw on that Friday, she could never unsee.  That nightmare was burnt into her soul.  The immensity of the violence was overwhelming, of course, but the worst thing was that it was so personal.  Jesus was her friend.  She, and some other women, had been early adopters of the Jesus’ movement – pre-Transfiguration followers, there before the famous feeding-of-the-five-thousand.  Like Jesus, they came from Galilee; they witnessed his original healings, knew his early sermons.  They were so in that they are name dropped at the beginning of Luke chapter 8 – when it was just Jesus, the twelve, and some women; they were the some women.  The devotion was real; the relationship was special.

 

Over the course of his ministry, a lot of people came and went, but they stayed with Jesus.  And so, when he decided to hit the road, they followed him to Jerusalem because that’s what followers do: they follow.  They had no idea, at the time, that the journey to Jerusalem was a funeral march.

 

At first, it appeared to be a coronation.  The arrival in Jerusalem couldn’t have gone any better.  The crowds didn’t simply roll out the red carpet for Jesus; they threw their coats on the ground so that dust of the road would not dirty his donkey’s feet.  When Jesus showed up, they burst into song.  Because of Jesus they sang for joy, sang for freedom, sang for a better future.  They chose him.  They hailed him as a king, their king.  In the dark shadow of the oppressive Roman Empire, within earshot of the Emperor’s soldiers, they welcomed Jesus and the heavenly kingdom come. 

 

It was Good News.  The world was changing.  Magnificat was drowning out the drums of war.  Violence and cruelty were being trampled by a kind peasant on a little donkey.  This is why Mary Magdelene and the women followed Jesus.  This was the impossible ending for which they had long dreamed – and it was coming true. 

 

But then it didn’t.  A few dizzying days after the arrival, the dream became a nightmare.  The crowds turned on Jesus.  The same mouths that once shouted “hosanna” spewed cries of “crucify.”  The palms dried out; the songs went silent; the soldiers pummeled his kind face and mocked him with purple rags.  He was the prince of peace and so they condemned him to death.  In a flippant act of violence and cruelty, the Empire hung Jesus as a warning sign for all future challengers.  The story seemed like it would have a happy ending, but the ending was as twisted as the thorns that formed Jesus’ crown.

 

And now the story was over.  And that is why Mary spent Easter morning in a cemetery. 

 

On that bleak Easter morning, despite the shadow of death, Mary, and the other woman, never stopped following Jesus.  Like they followed him throughout his life, they followed him to the cross.  They followed him when he was laid in the tomb.  They followed until the stone sealed him away from them.  And on Easter morning, they decided to follow Jesus one final time – this time to his silent grave.  Because that’s what followers do: they follow. 

 

They knew what they would find on Easter morning: they would find death.  Their expectations were low.  The only miracle they hoped to find in that cemetery was maybe some help moving the stone.

 

Only the stone was missing.  That is what they first noticed.  The next thing they noticed was even more surprising: the stone wasn’t the only thing missing – so was the body.  The Gospel says they were perplexed about this; I suspect that is true.  

 

It seems the ending wasn’t done twisting.  That became abundantly clear when the two spontaneous men dropped the most unexpected line of all: “Why do you look for the living among the dead?  He is not here, but has risen.” 

 

According to the mysterious visitors, the signs had been there all along.  The women just missed them.  But of course they did.  No amount of hints, or subtle theological wordplay, can ever prepare one for the resurrection of their crucified friend.   

 

As exhausted altar guilds around the world discovered this week, a lack of preparation does not stop the resurrection.  The women found life in that barren cemetery.  And this is when Mary Magdelene starts thinking about her Easter sermon.  Because things just got good.  And she was the one called and commissioned to proclaim that Good News.

 

It had all the makings of a successful sermon, but, it turns out, the crowd was ridiculously tough.  This was a Gospel message inspired by the same Spirit that raised Christ from the dead; it was dictated by some holy angels of God; it was written in THE empty tomb.  It was a story of hope – a story of love’s triumph over violence, of life’s victory over death.  It was the promise that Easter morning refutes every Good Friday.  It was the pledge that the Risen Christ is bringing new life to every barren place.  But that congregation was not moved or impressed.  They had not yet encountered the Risen Christ.  And so instead “these words seemed to them like an idle tale, [useless chatter], and they did not believe [the women].” 

 

But the women were right.  And the men were wrong.  And the tale was anything but idle.  And the disciples would have known that had they just had the courage to follow Jesus – even when it looked like the road was a dead end.

 

When the cross showed up, the disciples scattered.  But Mary and the other women never gave up. When everyone else wandered away, they followed Jesus.  When the world was overshadowed by Good Friday horror, they followed Jesus.  When the Empire threatened them with violence, they followed Jesus.  When the cost of discipleship became terribly clear, they didn’t hide in their rooms, they followed Jesus.  Even when hope was lost and their faith was exhausted, even as despair and death took a victory lap on their trampled hearts, they followed Jesus.

 

Mary and the women were the first witnesses of the resurrection because they were the ones who followed Jesus to the finish.  They were the only ones left – the only ones willing to show up at the tomb.  They were the tiny sparks in the ashes of their age.  And God used them to light up a Good Friday world with Easter fire.

 

We are the children of their spark; we are the heirs of that fire.  We are the followers of those first followers.  We are the stubborn citizens of an Easter world.  And like Mary we have encountered the Risen Christ in this Easter world.  We have felt him breathe life into our souls, heal our broken hearts, touch our listless lives.  The powers of this world tried to end him, but Jesus is alive – in this world, in our lives, in our hearts.  We are living in a resurrection reality. 

 

Resurrection is the truth even when the world is overshadowed by Good Friday horror.  Even when violence dominates the news.  Even when hope feels lost and your faith is exhausted.  Even when despair and death break your heart.  This is an Easter world, we live in an Easter world, even when times are tough.  The Risen Christ is with you – always and forever – even when you feel helpless and alone.  When things look bad, remember the Easter story: remember that love always wins. 

 

That truth was at the heart of the first Easter sermon.  Mary’s sermon was not an “idle tale;” it was not mere optimism.  It is the salvation story – a story so powerful and profound that it can change the world.  And we know it can change this world because it has changed our lives.  That Easter story is why I am standing in this pulpit, following Mary’s example, preaching an Easter sermon.  That Easter story is why you offer your children at the font, why you lift up your hearts in prayer, why you burst into Easter song, why you sing your Alleluias at the grave, why you see a victorious king when you look on the hard wood of the cross.  This is the story the gives the people hope – a story of love’s triumph over violence, of life’s victory over death.  It is the promise that Easter morning nullifies every Good Friday this world can muster.  It is the pledge that the Risen Christ is bringing new life to every barren place.  It is the conviction that the story ends with God wiping away every tear and making all things new.   This is an Easter story.  This is our story and it is the greatest story ever told.

 

On that first Easter morning, Mary had no intention of preaching an Easter sermon.  But by the amazing grace of God, she did.