Easter Sermon 2025. Scripture, Luke 24:1-12 (CEB):
24 Very early in the morning on the first day of the week, the women went to the tomb, bringing the fragrant spices they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. 4 They didn’t know what to make of this. Suddenly, two men were standing beside them in gleaming bright clothing. 5 The women were frightened and bowed their faces toward the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? 6 He isn’t here, but has been raised. Remember what he told you while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Human One[a] must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words. 9 When they returned from the tomb, they reported all these things to the eleven and all the others. 10 It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles. 11 Their words struck the apostles as nonsense, and they didn’t believe the women. 12 But Peter ran to the tomb. When he bent over to look inside, he saw only the linen cloth. Then he returned home, wondering what had happened.
The great 20th century Protestant theologian, Karl Barth, once declared that pastors should preach with the Bible in one hand and the newspaper in the other. I wonder what he would say during times like these? How much time do we have?
There’s a lot going on, and much of it connected to who WE are and what we are doing today, but we’ll get to that in a minute.
A few weeks ago, my husband and I were looking for a movie to see, out, in a theater. Between New Year’s and Easter is a time for when we are not so much anticipating seeing a particular new film, or two. We are more apt to check out what the Maine Film Center is offering and pick one—sometimes a film that looks really good to us and sometimes the film that seems the least bad. A few weeks ago, I found myself unfamiliar with the offerings for that weekend. So, I started looking at reviews. For one of the films, the New York Times reviewer didn’t exactly give it a glowing review, but commented that it was “winsome and inoffensive.” Bingo. That’s the film we needed to see. Winsome and inoffensive. Just the thing, especially in times like these.
Winsome and inoffensive is a perfectly reasonable quest when choosing a film, or a television show, or a book, etc. It’s not something that any of us should be searching for, though, this morning. Let’s be clear about that. Easter is not winsome, and it is not unoffensive.
We may be gathered in a lovely sanctuary, with colorful plants. We may find ourselves charmed by familiar music, the pastels that are featured on many an outfit, the hats on some of the ladies, so we may be lured into thinking that today could very well be about something winsome and inoffensive. It is not.
Let’s start with the women. In Luke’s story, there’s a small group of women—Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary, mother of James and others— who bravely venture to the tomb. They are going there to care for the body, possibly the spices are meant to cover the odor for people who want to visit the tomb, to spend some time in prayer and devotion regarding the terrible events that led to the crucifixion. But, of course, the tomb is empty. Once they are informed by the two men in gleaming clothes that the body is not there because Jesus has risen, the women then go to the apostles, who have locked themselves away, fearing that they will be next, to share the important news.
The men receive the news with more than skepticism. The translation says “nonsense.” Other translations say “idle tales,” or something along those lines. Some commentators suggest that the word here is meant to convey something like 1st century “BS.”
This is not a winsome and inoffensive moment. In the 1st century and before and since, there’s a terrible habit to view women as generally untrustworthy when it comes to matters of importance. It’s not only a problem, it’s not backed up by scripture. Luke’s Gospel champions women, especially those women connected to Jesus, from beginning to end. Women are trustworthy and more than that, if it hadn’t been for the women, Christianity may never have gotten started, with no one to tell the tale of the empty tomb.
Now, let’s turn to the question that is asked of the women by the strange men in gleaming bright clothing, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” This is a question of profound significance and one that leads us into places where we find that the message, again, is not winsome and it is definitely not unoffensive.
One of the Bible commentaries that I read this past week offered something that I found especially thought-provoking:
The risen Jesus is particular. Unlike some all-encompassing, cosmic force—the resurrected Jesus is not everywhere, all at once. He has gone missing from the place one expects him to be. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” the two lightning-clad men ask the women. “He is not here” (verse 5). The weighty corollary to Easter faith is that, if our Savior lives, the tombs of certainty, finality, and respectability that we have gifted him will no longer be his dwelling. To encounter a living God, embodied and active in the world, requires that we face something more profound than a happy end. It requires that we face a Love stronger than death, particular in its commitment to lives lost and witnesses disregarded. [Jerusha Matsen Neal, workingpreacher.og]
This perhaps jumped out at me as we observe, through a stunning number of stories that have made it to the news media, even as so many have not, the disregard of persons, the aggressive assault on humanity, all supposedly in the name of freeing our country from very bad people who have come to this country, in so many cases, to escape war, natural disaster, terror, violence and chaos. It’s one of the things that so often gets lost in the debates about immigrants—legal and illegal—that most of them very likely would have loved to have stayed where they were, where they were born perhaps, or close by, a place where their families were and maybe still are, where they had roots, but then something happened—occasionally something related to natural disaster, but more often related to human made disaster that brought violence, war, fear, terror and chaos, a possible forced departure from home, or in other cases a lack of food and clean water, etc, etc.
In the radical determination of the current Administration to rid our country of these supposed undesirable people—again, some here illegally, but many here legally and following the rules—we are witnessing a brazen assault on persons, on humanity, that people are being picked up and, in an alarming number of instances, have then disappeared. There are others who have received emails informing them that they must leave the country within ONE WEEK. In some of these instances the person is a US citizen, born and raised here. Yet the notice declares that the government will find the person and kick them out, without a hearing, without any due process. These notices offer no method of contact to clear up the error that was made.
Let me be clear here. We, in the United States, have plenty to figure out when it comes to migrants, immigration, etc—legal and illegal. What I’m talking about here is the treatment of, the perception of, the rhetoric regarding, those deemed “other,” that it has become all too common to treat those “others,” to talk about others, as less than human, as undeserving of any sort of respect or dignity, and certainly not kindness or compassion.
If this were some blatantly secular Administration, it might be one thing. But, the current Administration boldly declares itself as closely tied with Christian values, Christian teachings, Christian morality. In fact, the White House Faith Office is located in the West Wing. Conservative and evangelical pastors are basking in their newfound access to the President.
Last Sunday, April 13, the White House issued a bold proclamation for Holy Week. Here’s a bit of that proclamation:
This Holy Week, my Administration renews its promise to defend the Christian faith in our schools, military, workplaces, hospitals, and halls of government. We will never waver in safeguarding the right to religious liberty, upholding the dignity of life, and protecting God in our public square.
As we focus on Christ’s redeeming sacrifice, we look to His love, humility, and obedience—even in life’s most difficult and uncertain moments. This week, we pray for an outpouring of the Holy Spirit upon our beloved Nation. We pray that America will remain a beacon of faith, hope, and freedom for the entire world, and we pray to achieve a future that reflects the truth, beauty, and goodness of Christ’s eternal kingdom in Heaven.
And, then the following DAY, on Monday, the President met with the President of El Salvador. That visit included time with the press—perhaps you’ve seen some of it. And, during that time, the Kilmar Obrego Garcia situation came up, the man who was mistakenly deported to a prison in El Salvador. There were a lot of noteworthy dimensions of the ensuing conversation, if you will, that were disconcerting and unsettling, but for me, I noticed how Mr. Obrego Garcia was talked about and treated as if he were not quite fully human. There was not one shred, not one hint, of compassion for this individual, his family, his situation. The disconnect with the lofty notion of the US being a beacon of faith, hope and freedom, and the reality of what’s happening with immigration is astonishing.
Christians around the world gather today to declare a bold Alleluia in response to the amazing and remarkable story of our resurrected Messiah. Many will wonder and debate what truly happened on that first Easter. Some will maybe not think about it so much, just going through the motions of what seems expected of them. Some will make bold assertions and then declare that those who are not able to make the same are somehow not worthy of God’s love.
The challenge of Easter—this Easter, last Easter, next Easter, the first Easter—is to recognize and appreciate that this isn’t about one single, mysterious, earth-shattering event. It’s about a whole bunch of mysterious, earth-shattering events, when we realize that resurrection is really about a whole bunch of moments that pull us in and then ask the same terrible question, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?”
So much of our lives, whether we realize it or not, are spent in that not so wondrous and inspiring place, looking for the wrong thing. We want things to be not so challenging. We generally want life to be winsome, easy-going, inoffensive. That’s fine for a movie. It’s not when it comes to faith.
Our faith calls us in to ask us this question that will move us out of ourselves and the small tombs that outline our lives, pushing us into a new awareness that is life-giving and life-affirming, but also hard and demanding, often asking that we engage fully, joyfully and unabashedly with a Savior who, at first, looked to have been defeated, crushed by the then Empire. But through suffering and profound agony, offered a new way, a reminder that God’s intentions for humanity are not to be found in the earthly ways of power and authority— of Empire— but in service, in relationship, in community, in a love that pushes us into ways of being that so often makes us squirm.
We are called to ask ourselves the question: Why do we look for new life in the midst of old, tired ways of being? Why do we look for assurance in trampling on the humanity of those who seem different from us, instead of following Jesus’s example of compassion and community? Why do we look for safety and security in the creation of the “other” who can then be treated as somehow “less than,” rather than pursuing justice through respect, dignity, and compassion for all people? Why do we look for the living among the dead?
To declare ourselves Easter people is to recognize—maybe for the first time, maybe for the 100th—that we follow a savior who is always just ahead of us (did you notice that the Risen Christ isn’t even in today’s scripture passage?) beckoning us to follow, even into the challenging dimensions of life and faith, that, while difficult, are fulfilling, rewarding and life-affirming. Our Savior is not to be found in the old and dead places, but in the moving forward, with all of our doubts and uncertainties, with all of our wavering, yet willing to take the risks of faith, a willingness to offend those in positions of power and authority, to offend those who wish to build a hierarchy of persons, with only some deserving of respect, to offend those who claim the title “Christian,” but then act consistently in ways that undermine the essential qualities of the Christian faith.
The invitation today is an amazing one, but it is also a daunting one. Yet, it doesn’t take much looking around to realize how significant it is to be about this holy work, of following, even as we falter and stumble, as we strive: to see each person as a created child of God, and to demand that others do so as well; and, to feel and to know that the faith that is here in this sanctuary among these our friends and companions, that we may then go out of these doors, to live as compassionate people who see the dignity and worth of each person.
That is the invitation. That is the call.
Thankfully, we don’t do it alone. We have each other and we have Christ as our companion.
Let us trust that Christ indeed is with us. Amen.
Hope in the Wilderness 