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| Vol. 3, No. 4 (March-April 2004) | |||||||||||
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Table Talk The
Resurrection of our Lord Dear hearers of the word: grace to you and peace from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. “Why do you seek the living among the dead? Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on the third day rise.” So spoke two men in dazzling apparel to some frightened women in a tomb looking for the dead body of Jesus. And with those words the news that was to take their world by the throat and shake it was out. The news still has power today, here and now, even after practically two millennia. Listen! Christ is risen. He is really risen. The forces of evil could not hold him. Sin, death, and the devil could not defeat him. The war is over and Jesus has won. He is risen and will never die again. Halleluia! These are powerful words, and I bet that none of you is going to leave this church today—after the singing, proclaiming, praying, and celebrating is done—untouched by the power of the Easter message. I would also wager though that none of us fully realize the impact and meaning these words have for us. For if we did, we would not only be singing, but we would be trembling in our boots for fear just like the woman in the gospel story. They knew what it meant. They knew deep down in their bones what it meant, and they were frightened. Now I imagine that the word “fear” has not been one of the words in your Easter vocabulary. “Joy,” “hope,” “comfort,” “victory,” “life,” yes. But “fear,” no. What is there to be afraid of? Jesus is risen. The war is over. Everything turned out the way it was supposed to. We tend to walk out of church on Easter Sunday impressed and inspired, with perhaps a vague sense of immunity from the dangers of life. What can really hurt us if Jesus is risen? We do not walk out afraid. Why would we even want to? But the fact of the matter is that that is exactly the reaction of the people who were closest to the event itself, the people who really heard the news of the resurrection. Read Matthew’s and Mark’s accounts too. The same thing happens. The news is not greeted with shouts of joy but rather with fear and un-belief. It really shook them up. The fact that it doesn’t do the same to us simply indicates that we’ve developed a sense of being removed from the whole thing. We have trouble seeing ourselves really involved in what is happening. We watch. We have not been personally involved with Jesus’ death on Good Friday—or so we think—so it is really impossible for us to be involved now. We have to go back. Back to Jesus’ death on that garbage heap outside of Jerusalem. What really happened there? What really happened on Good Friday? Sometimes I think we are in so much of a hurry to make sense of the whole ugly event that we don’t stop to look at it as it really is. We refuse to take in the facts as they are on their face. We move too quickly to talking about the death of Jesus as a sacrifice for sin, as the greatest expression of love, as a battle against the forces of evil. Now that is not to say that Jesus’ death wasn’t all of these. It was. But it is to say that it becomes all too easy for us to admire the interpretation from afar and keep ourselves clean out of the picture. Which is exactly what we want to do. To really put ourselves into the story is to make the resurrection begin to sound downright scary. What happened on Good Friday? The plain fact of the matter is that a murder happened on Good Friday, and you don’t have to have a degree in theology to understand that. It is very simple. Jesus had become a threat, and so he was killed. He was brought up on false charges before a kangaroo court, sentenced to death and lynched. Read the story, especially in Luke, and you’ll see that that is exactly what happened. Everyone, from the chief priests and scribes of the Jews to the Roman governor and his soldiers to the crows in Jerusalem to Jesus’ own disciples were accessories to the killing. None get off untainted. The centurian’s cry condemns everyone. Certainly this man was innocent. This man was innocent, and we killed him. Why was Jesus killed? Why was he a threat? Because of what he did. He came into a world like ours, that measures people by how much they can achieve and acquire [how they make “us” look compared to them] and its justice by an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, preaching forgiveness and mercy. There was bound to be an explosion. One of them had to go. No, you might say. We all want forgiveness and mercy. Who would kill because of that? You would. And I would too. Forgiveness and mercy are wonderful ideas until they are acted out in real life. Then they very quickly become not so wonderful anymore. Think of it using real situations. How would you feel, if you were the man who had just been ripped off by the local tax collector, when you saw Jesus go in as his dinner guest and then choose him as his disciple. How would you feel, as a mother whose daughter had been raped, hearing Jesus say to the creep you’d like to strangle, “My son, your sins are forgiven.” C. S. Lewis tells the story of a man who was in hell who demanded that God let him go to heaven in order to prove that he was really a God of forgiveness and mercy. Fully expecting God to refuse, he waited for his chance to call God a liar. Suddenly he hears the amazing news that God has decided to grant him his request and send him straight to heaven. No strings attached; the bus is outside. When he gets to the gate of paradise, though, a shocking thing occurs. Standing at the gate with his arms outstretched to greet him is the man who murdered him to end his life on earth. He immediately turns around and goes straight back to hell where he spends eternity protesting against the God who was unjust enough to send his murderer to heaven. When it comes to life in the real world we want justice not mercy. We want our pound of flesh from those who hurt us. We want our “rights.” And ultimately we will get rid of anyone who stands in our way. Even Jesus. Especially Jesus. Good Friday was a murder. And we did it. And now perhaps we are ready to sense some of the impact of the news of the resurrection. And maybe we will be able to sense some of the fear as well. We killed Jesus. And now we hear that God has raised him from the dead and given him power over us. WE have got blood on our hands. And now our victim has come back. Now victims are dangerous critters when they return, especially when they come back with the upper hand. The sweet smell of revenge is in the air. We killed the Son of God and now we stand before our victim and our Creator awaiting judgment. When Peter preached on the resurrection that is exactly the reaction he got. “This Jesus, God raised up, and of that we are all witnesses.” “Let all the house of Israel therefore know assuredly that God has made him both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.” Now when they heard this they were cut to the heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, “Brethren, what shall we do.” What shall we do? Christ is risen. What shall we do? That is the real Easter question. As a professor of mine has put it, we’re caught. Caught in the act. What do we do now? The answer that may surprise you, but I believe that it is what Peter meant when he told the crowd he was preaching to to repent. It is the key to opening up the miracle and joy and comfort of Easter. What do we do now? Nothing. There is nothing we can do. We’ve done quite enough already! We are caught. The house is surrounded and we are out of ammunition. What can you do to someone who rises from the dead? We cannot get rid of him. The war is over. Jesus has won and we have lost. Our world is coming to an end. His kingdom has begun. We have had it. All that is left is to give up, stand before our judge, and hear our verdict. And here it is: This Jesus whom you crucified, who is risen from the dead and now sits at the right hand of his Father to judge the world, pronounces you . . . says to you, “My son, your sins are forgiven. My daughter, yours sins are forgiven.” That is his verdict. He has not changed a bit. His pleasure is not judgment but mercy. He loves us. After all we have done. And now the one who has the victory over sin, death, and hell even when they come through us chooses us not for condemnation, but rather to live with him in everlasting righteousness, innocense, and blessedness just as he is risen and lives and rules eternally. Come to the table and receive Christ’s own pledge that this is most certainly true. And then go out of here in the freedom of the knowledge that nothing can separate you from his love. The war is over and we have lost and therefore won. Halleluia! Amen. CH (MAJ) John H. G. Rasmussen serves in the United States Army at Fort Bragg, NC. You may contact him at john.h.rasmussen@us.army.mil The Gospel According to Luke 24:1-11 [RSV]
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