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Luke 24:1-12
The tomb. Angels. Celebration. Daffodils. I wrote the words on newsprint. It was Wednesday evening, a week and a half ago. The Bible Study group had made our way through Luke’s gospel in time to study his account of the resurrection just before Easter.
Before we read the text, I asked the group to call out words or images that come to mind when we think of resurrection. We started with words we often hear at Easter: new life, hope, sunrise. Someone said, “What’s that thing you always say? Love is more powerful than hate…something like that.” Pleased to be identified with that proclamation, I wrote it down. Finally, almost apologetically, one of our scholars added the word skepticism.
At first the word seemed out of place in our otherwise joyous list. Then we read the scripture. There is skepticism all over this gospel story.
All of Jesus’ disciples—women and men—had heard his promise at least three times: he would rise again. I don’t know whether Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James were skeptical of this promise or whether, in the depths of their grief, they simply forgot it. Whichever it was, it took the words of angels in dazzling clothes to turn their sorrow to joy.
The skepticism of the men ran deeper, exacerbated by fear. They concluded the women’s report was an idle tale, and withdrew even further into their despair. Only Peter mustered up enough curiosity to go see for himself.
Fortunately for the disciples who were trapped in their disbelief, the gospel story doesn’t end there. The risen Jesus seemed to understand that they needed clarity, and so he appeared to them—on the road to Emmaus, in the room where they were hiding away. Each in their own way, each in their own time, they opened themselves to the good news; they found strength to go out and continue Jesus’ ministry.
The more I study the gospels, the more convinced I become that the authors intend for us to identify with the disciples. The disciples are human beings who are often confused and frightened, ordinary women and men trying to do extraordinary things and making lots of mistakes. They are a lot like us, and the gospel writers challenge us to be like them.
What that means for us today is that, wherever you are in your skepticism and your faith, this story is for you. Are you like the women, grieving so deeply you have forgotten the promise of new life? Are you like the men, overwhelmed by fear that keeps you from trusting your friends? Maybe you are like Peter, needing to see it for yourself.
Wherever you are–whether the resurrection feels like an idle tale or profound truth–, you are in this story. You are not alone. You are part of a community of disciples–going back as far as that struggling group of Jesus’ friends, spanning generations to include this group gathered here today. Each in our own way, each with our own process, we walk a circuitous faith journey of skepticism and trust. The depiction of the disciples in Luke’s gospel remind us that God does not call us to be anything other than human; at the same time, the perseverance of the disciples challenges us to stay in the struggle, to keep trying to open ourselves to the good news.
In today’s world, our skepticism about the resurrection has at least two layers. The first is about the event itself: our scientifically-informed minds tell us that dead bodies simply cannot come back to life. The second layer, which feels more important to me, is about what the resurrection means for us today.
As the Bible Study group reminded me, I love to proclaim what I understand to be a central meaning of the resurrection: God’s love is more powerful than hatred, more powerful than fear, more powerful than death. Even as I say it, I feel my own skepticism. When we have lost someone we love, death feels dangerously powerful. In our world today, fear and hatred seem overwhelming. Does Jesus’ resurrection change anything?
How do we honor the reality of our skepticism without being paralyzed by it? How do we travel on that circuitous road of skepticism and faith?
Everyone’s journey is different. This morning I want to share a piece of what I have learned on my journey, in hope that it might be helpful to you.
Sometimes, on this life-long path of skepticism and faith, the only way for me to move forward is to take a leap of faith: to make a choice to act in faith even when I feel skeptical. I choose to try to see the world through the lens of the resurrection. In part because I cannot imagine how I could survive if hate and fear have ultimate power, I choose to try to view the events of my life and this world from the perspective that love is more powerful.
I am not talking about looking on the bright side of life. Jesus didn’t pretend everything was okay. He looked straight into pain and injustice, and then he looked deeper, to see the potential for new life, the hidden ways God’s love was at work. The resurrection story challenges me to perceive the world a little bit more like Jesus did.
It’s not about putting on rose-colored glasses. The best analogy I can find comes from my experience taking water color lessons a decade ago. With every painting I attempted, I could feel my perception sharpen. I began to notice that the sky is never one shade of blue; it is many subtle gradations of many colors. While I will never become a famous painter, I now see beauty I never before noticed.
The story of the resurrection does not, in a dramatic instant, change my experience of the world. Instead, it challenges me to practice looking deeper into the world. It give me courage to face the brokenness long enough that I can begin to glimpse potential for wholeness. It assures me that, the more I choose to practice a new way of perceiving, the more beauty and hope and love I will perceive. It helps me trust that, even when I cannot see it, God’s love is at work.
Let me share some of what I have seen in the last month, here at Edwards Church. Three weeks ago, we put together backpacks for Syrian children who are refugees in their own country. That morning, we were joined by the AlJalou’s, the family living in our parsonage who are themselves refugees from Syria. As I watched church members help Adary and Ghzlan build backpacks, I saw the power of God’s love at work. No matter what we ourselves have been through, we each can do something to help. Everyone has something to give that the world needs, and our gifts, by the grace of God, matter. Love is more powerful.
Over the last few weeks, I have been struck by the impact of cancer on our extended church family. It feels overwhelming. What I have learned, though, is that many cancer survivors in this congregation have been reaching out to offer support to folks who are in the middle of the struggle. It matters to know you are not alone. Love is more powerful.
Last Sunday, we held our Palm Sunday parade, four churches, a very cool banner and a pony. This year we became aware of mistakes we made in the planning–communication errors and cultural assumptions that could have made it all fall apart. Grace abounds, and we figured it out. I knew it was worth the effort as I sat at lunch with Jorge and Heidy, the young man and his five-year-old daughter from Guatemala who are seeking asylum here.
They were separated at the border and spent several months apart–Jorge in detention in Arizona and Georgia, Heidy in foster care in New York state. Reunited in Framingham with the help of Metrowest Immigrant Solidarity Network, they are slowly healing from terrible trauma. As we tried to make conversation with my broken Spanish and his rapidly improving English, Jorge pulled out his phone. With a huge smile on his face, he showed me a video of a laughing Heidy riding Locket the pony. When we can laugh, we can heal. God’s love is more powerful.
I could go on and on. This congregation is a wonderful place to practice viewing the world through the lens of resurrection. There is, here as everywhere, too much pain and brokenness. And the healing, transformative power of God’s love is at work in such amazing ways. Can you see it? Will you join me in looking for it?
It is wonderful to perceive the world through the lens of resurrection. And there is more. Once the disciples dared to trust, they leapt up to continue the work Jesus had started–healing the sick, feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, proclaiming through their words and deeds that God’s love is more powerful.
We are called to join them. Even as we are still learning to perceive and trust the good news, we are called to live it. We are called to make backpacks, to ride ponies, to support one another. We are called to work for justice, to welcome those who have been excluded, to heal our planet. We are called to live the Easter promise. God’s love is more powerful than hate or fear or death. We are part of the power of God’s love. Let us claim it. Let us proclaim it. Let us live it. Amen.