Sermons

Minister: Rev. Margaret A. Beckman | They had been saying to one another,
“Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?”
Gospel According to Mark, Chapter 16
READING  ~ Gospel of Mark, Chapter 16
When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. 2 And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. 3 They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?”
READING ~ An Upside-Down Easter Meditation, Parker J. Palmer

Years ago, I stumbled upon a little book by Julia Esquivel, the Guatemalan poet and social justice activist, titled “Threatened with Resurrection.” Those few words had a huge impact on me.

I’d been taught that death is the great threat and resurrection the great hope. But at the time I found Esquivel’s book, I was experiencing the death-in-life called depression. Her title jarred me into the hard realization that figurative forms of death sometimes feel comforting — while resurrection, or the hope of new life, feels threatening.

Why? Because death-in-life can bring us a perverse sense of relief. When I was depressed, nobody expected anything of me, nor did I expect anything of myself. I was exempt from life’s demands and risks. But if I were to find new life, who knows what daunting tasks I might be required to take on?

Sometimes we choose death-in-life (as in compulsive overactivity, unhealthy relationships, non-stop judgmentalism aimed at self or others, work that compromises our integrity, substance abuse, pervasive cynicism, etc.) because we’re afraid of the challenges that might come if we embraced resurrection-in-life.

Every religious tradition is rooted in mysteries I don’t pretend to understand, including claims about what happens after we die. But this I know for sure: as long as we’re alive, choosing resurrection is always worth the risk. I’m grateful for the people and experiences that continue to help me to embrace “the threat of resurrection.”

My Easter wish for everyone is the ability to say “YES!” to life. Even when life challenges us, it’s a gift beyond all measure…

SERMON

It is early on the morning following the end of the Sabbath and work may resume among the practicing Jews. All that been left undone as the sun set on Friday would be completed now. A Sunday morning like every other Sunday morning for the women of Jerusalem. Except that for the two Marys and Salome, it was anything but typical. Their friend and teacher, Jesus, was dead.

Let me set the scene as it might have been. Jesus died on the hill of crucifixion Friday late in the day – well after noon. Being shortly before sunset, they had to hurry to find a place to lay the body for safe keeping. A wealthy man offered to let the friends use a tomb in his own family burial ground for this purpose. And they did.

The tomb. What does such a tomb look like? A tomb would be hewn out from the rock of the hillside. A large tomb might have two or three chambers. The tomb was cut to be slightly below grade and had a low entrance so that to enter the tomb one had to bend low and step down. Inside, generally, there would be a bench cut into the wall of the rock or perhaps a stone table where the body would be laid. Once the mourners were ready to leave the place where their loved one had been laid, they would exit and the tomb would be closed by placing a large stone cut for the purpose across the entrance, presumably forever.

There were two ways to close the tomb. One required a stone specially cut to be fitted into the entrance as a cork fits into a bottle. The other system required a round stone, a disc that would be rolled across the entrance and fixed in place. This system used a sloping trench that was cut in front of the entrance. The stone disc would be fitted into the trench at the high end and rolled downward until it came to rest across the entrance where the trench ended.

We don’t really know what kind of tomb was used by the friends of Jesus as a borrowed resting place, but it was probably one of these two types.

So, now it is early Sunday morning and the women – Mary Madelene, Mary the mother of Jesus, and Salome – returned to the tomb to wash, anoint, and properly wrap the body. They wondered among themselves who would be nearby who could help them roll away the stone from the tomb entrance so they could enter. Then they saw that the stone had already been rolled away from the entrance.

Who rolled away the stone?

There are three applications of the question that I want to share with you morning… the Preserved, the Personal, and the Prophetic.

The Preserved story of the Christian faith.
As a story about our own lives… a Personal application.
As a call to action for us now… a Prophetic call.

The Preserved Story.
Jesus is laid in the tomb and the tomb is closed from the outside by rolling the stone into place. Inside the tomb – utter darkness. There is no light; absolutely none. Jesus is alone; completely alone. Then, he comes to life. Jesus must have been terrified to find himself in complete darkness, naked and alone.

The women expect to find Jesus lying on a cold rock slab once they get help to roll away the stone and gain entrance to the tomb. They bring all the materials for the sacred rituals of burial as their faith demands. They have come, grief-stricken and confused over the death of Jesus and plenty afraid of the Roman soldiers and the Jewish high priests and scribes – all of whom are looking for the followers of this man that they too might be arrested and persecuted for blasphemy or sedition.

When they draw near, they see the stone has already been rolled away.
The tomb is open, and Jesus is not there.
They are terrified and they flee for their lives.

Someone rolled away the stone. Who was it? Why did they do it?
Did someone know that Jesus would be alive and trapped alone and frightened in complete darkness and confusion?
Did an agent of God supernaturally move the stone aside signally the fact that Jesus was no longer held in death?

The Preserved Story tells us nothing about who rolled away the stone and we are left to wonder. For 1500 years people have been wondering and devising simple or complicated explanations to suit their underlying faith narrative.

Without someone to roll away the stone from the tomb, Jesus dies and does not reclaim life and everything ends right there. But someone did roll away the stone and resurrection came not only to Jesus, but to all of us, however we interpret that.

Light floods into the cave. Jesus is no longer alone. Life is restored.

This is the Preserved Story of Easter.

Now, a Personal Story.
In the reading from Parker Palmer – An Upside-Down Easter Meditation –

Parker recalls a time when he was experiencing the “death-in-life” of clinical depression.

He was completely alone and in utter darkness.

In that tomb, he would either give in to the aloneness and darkness and surrender to death, or, someone would come and roll away the stone from his tomb and bring light and life and love.

Parker Palmer was saved, in part, by a friend who came to him every afternoon for weeks on end and sat with him in his darkness. His friend did none of the things most of us do when someone is depressed. He did not scold or shame. He did not cajole or convince. He sat, quietly, and rubbed the feet of Parker Palmer – bringing the warmth and restoration of human touch into his body through his feet.

Parker Palmer’s friend rolled away the stone that trapped him and helped him find his way out of the darkness and solitary confinement of his tomb.

Palmer reminds us that there are many versions of a “death-in-life” tomb. It might be compulsive overactivity, unhealthy relationships, non-stop judgmentalism aimed at self or others, work that compromises our integrity, substance use disorder, pervasive cynicism, etc. It might be trauma, fear, anger, hate – etc.

When sealed in our “death-in-life” tomb, we cannot open the tomb from the inside. We cannot roll away the stone without willing helpers on the outside; helpers who can and will stay with us and put their shoulders to the stone for as long as it takes for the stone to budge and for light to begin, once again, to flow into the darkness of the tomb with the life of fresh air and the love of companions.

Finally, the Prophetic Story.

In ancient times, when there was trouble for the Jews, when the people strayed far from their relationship and covenant with their God, when things looked grim to the point of hopelessness, God called out from among the people a prophet. The prophet was not one who was highly situated, not one who was well known, not one who was particularly pious. God’s prophets were ordinary people living ordinary lives who were chosen to do mighty things. Most of the prophets were reluctant to serve, thinking that they had little to offer in the face of the challenges of their time and place. Yet, when they took up the call, they did amazing things.

God came to Isaiah in a vision and called him to step up and be amazing. God describes the problem with the people and outlines the task ahead. Isaiah turns away from God because he knows he is not fit enough or talented enough or determined enough or spiritual enough or enough in any way to be God’s representative in human affairs.

God replies that he is enough. The people are suffering. They have been cast out from their homeland. They are exiled and trying desperately to make a life for themselves anywhere and any way they can. They are not welcome in the land where they have arrived after long journeys and they cannot return to their former land because of violence and almost certain death.

The people are desperate. They are locked in a tomb of total darkness and they are alone and they are frightened. Some of them misbehave in their confusion and desperation. Others perish from lack of food and water. The rulers of the new land despise them and make life harsh and difficult.

All this was known to Isaiah, and he was troubled by it. And then in his vision, this happens …
8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!” (Isaiah 6:8 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
Here I am; send me. This is the prophetic story.

It is our story.

There are people suffering. There are people who are sealed in a tomb of darkness, loneliness and despair because of their situation. They are frightened and helpless. They languish at the border of a land where they have fled to save their lives, hungry and exhausted. They do not find a welcome, they find a wall and razor wire and fences whose gates are locked against them. They have fled here for safety and a possible future for their children. Despite the harshness they experience at the border, they cannot go back because there is nothing there for them other than the violence, rape and murder from which they fled. They ask only for safe passage and the possibility of making a new life in a strange but safer land.

They need someone who will come out at the first light of day following the Sabbath bearing herbs of comfort for their wounds and food and water and clothing and open arms. They need someone who will roll away the stone.

Who rolled away the stone?

That first Easter morning, we don’t know who it was or how it happened, but it did, and history changed. Life was restored and there was a new beginning, then and now.
When one of us is captive in a death-in-life tomb of depression or addiction or violence or poverty or loneliness, a friend or a family member or a case worker, someone, anyone, maybe you, will come and simply put shoulder to the stone and roll it away from the entrance so that light and life and love may enter there. Life is restored and there is a new beginning.
We now live in land that does not welcome the stranger, the migrant, the immigrant. We do not feed the hungry or clothe the naked or heal the sick or visit the lonely. We do not make room at the table of our abundance for those who suffer. Who will see that the tomb of desperation is sealed from the outside and the people cannot by themselves escape into freedom?

The promise of Easter is that new life comes.

The decision to roll away the stone is a decision of faith – faith in ourselves, faith in each other, faith in the future, and faith in life itself.

My dear Spiritual Companions, as we hear the still small voice calling us to rise up and roll away the stone; to remove the heavy rock that seals the entrance and keeps our neighbors locked in a tomb of darkness and despair, to put our shoulders to the boulder and move that stone and set the suffering people free, may we, together as a whole people of faith, say, “Here I am, send me.”

Blessed Be. I Love You.   Amen.