Easter
Mark 16:1-8
April 3, 1994
Since this is the day we focus on a Rabbi by the name of Jesus who lived near Jerusalem and was put to death by the authorities sometime in the first century, let me begin our thoughts with another Rabbi who lived in a small Russian town at the turn of the century. He also ran afoul of the authorities in his area – but I’m getting ahead of my story.
This Rabbi spent twenty years pondering the very deepest religious questions. Finally, he came to the conclusion that when he got right down to rock bottom, he just didn’t know.
Shortly after reaching that conclusion, he walked across the village square to the synagogue to pray. The local czarist cop of the little town was in a bad mood and thought he would take it out on the Rabbi. So he yelled: ‘Hey, Rabbi! Where the heck do you think you’re going?” The Rabbi answered: ‘l don’t know.” This infuriated the cop even more. ‘What do you mean you don’t know where you’re going?” he exclaimed in outrage. ‘Every morning at 11:00, you have crossed this village square on the way to the synagogue to pray. Here it is 11:00 and you’re going in the direction of the synagogue and you’re telling me you don’t know where you’re going?! You’re trying to make some kind of fool out of me. I’ll teach you not to do that!”
So the cop grabbed the Rabbi and took him off to the local jail. And just as he was about to throw him into the cell, the Rabbi turned to him and commented: “You see, you just don’t know!”
And so it was with the disciples of the Rabbi called Jesus on that first Easter morning. They came to the tomb with spices and flowers to cover over the stink of death. And they were amazed, for they found the tomb empty. You see – you just don’t know.
It has been three decades since I left the seminary, and I’ve recently made a great discovery. I’ve discovered I don’t know much about God. I no longer ask: ‘What do I know about God? I now ask: ‘What don’t I know?” Sometimes the questions are more important than the answers.
Take the Resurrection as an example. All we really know is that the tomb was empty. What happened to Jesus? Where might He be found? We just don’t know. And the only clue that we’re given is that He is not where we thought Him to be. He is somewhere ahead of us.
The story of the Resurrection is really a story of a certainty becoming uncertain. And yet even as we don’t know, we need not despair. For our faith tells us that Jesus is there in the future, in the unknown.
Robert Coles, writer and psychiatrist from Harvard, is one of my heroes. Recently, he was quoted in this statement: ‘If you ask me about the Resurrection and how God works, I just don’t know. I’m confused, perplexed, and confounded by it all. But I refuse to let the confusion be the dominant force of my life.” Coles, along with countless others, has understood the pull of the Resurrected Jesus to be out there, in the future, in the unknown. As the story in the Gospel goes: “Someone, a messenger in a white robe, says, ‘He is not here-he is going before you.'” So instead of standing up here and trying to give answers about the Resurrection, let me tell you a ] resurrection story. It’s about a young boy named Philip. Philip was born with Down’s Syndrome. He was a pleasant child, happy, but increasingly aware of the differences between himself and other children.
Philip went to Sunday School, and he was placed in the regular third-grade Class. This class was everything you would like to have in a Sunday School class. They were close. They really liked their teacher. They learned, they laughed, and they played together. The teacher put a lot of thought and imagination into the class. And the one discordant note was that Philip was not really accepted as a part of that group of ten children. Philip, of course, did not choose, nor did he want to be different. He just was.
Last year, on the Sunday after Easter, the teacher had a wonderful design for her class. She brought in those plastic containers that some brand of stockings comes in. They look like great big eggs. Each Child received one and was assigned the task of going outside on the church grounds and finding a symbol of Easter and then putting it into the plastic egg to share with the class.
Well, they all ran out and had a great, wild, chaotic time gathering symbols of Easter. When they got back in, they put all the eggs on a table, and the teacher opened them one by one. All the children oohed and aahed and made comments. One had a flower. One had a butterfly and one had a rock. There was much giggling and they all said: ‘What does a rock have to do with Easter?” The little boy whose egg they had opened said: ‘I knew all of you would get flowers and leaves and butterflies and stuff like that. So I got a rock because it was pretty and I like rocks.” They all laughed and went on to the next. And then they opened one that had nothing in it. The children cried out: “Somebody didn’t do it right. That’s stupid. Someone cheated. Someone’s a jerk!” About that time, the teacher felt a tug on her sleeve and found Philip beside her. ‘It’s mine,” Philip said, “It’s mine.” And the other children, as only eight-year-olds can, began to give him the business. “You don’t ever do things right, Philip.
There’s nothing there. You don’t even know what Easter is about.”
Philip came right back and said: “I did so do it right. I did. It’s supposed to be empty. The tomb was empty.”
Suddenly, there was a silence. And to those of you who believe in miracles, I want to tell you that one happened last spring. From that moment on, things were different. Philip became a part of the class. They took him in
Philip died several months later. His family had known since the time he was born that he wouldn’t live out a normal lifespan. Many other things had been wrong with his little body, and so when he got an infection that most children could quickly have shaken off, Philip died.
He was buried not far from the parish Church. On the day of the funeral, nine third graders marched right up to the altar – not with flowers to cover over the stink and reality of death – nine third graders with their Sunday school teacher marched right up to the altar and placed there an empty plastic egg.
“And they came to the tomb. And it was empty.
‘Do not be amazed. He is not here’
He has gone before you.”‘
AMEN.