Just imagine.

They thought the world had ended. Everything they believed had fallen apart. The man they trusted, the man they followed, leaving their families and work behind, had died, and it was not a dignified or gentle death. They were unable to comfort him as he left. They mourned. They were afraid, hiding behind closed doors, unsure if they would be next. People gossiped. A poor man, a good man, had died, and the powers that be were ok with that. The world was dark. There were earthquakes.

This was not the plan.

And then, Sunday morning. Just imagine. A garden, blooming with flowers, shining and green, and a woman, alone, grieving, walking in that bright place, perhaps thinking how strange it was to see such beauty and feel such sadness, to be surrounded by life and growth when Jesus was dead.

It’s no wonder that the open tomb made no sense. It’s no wonder that the disciples took one look and went back home again. It’s no wonder that Mary Magdalene didn’t even recognize Jesus when he spoke to her, that she mistook him for the gardener. Because why in the world would the tomb be open unless someone had taken his body? Why in the world would Jesus be walking around on a Sunday morning as if all that devastation had never happened, when she had clearly seen him on the cross just days before?

In the world’s logic, Easter Day doesn’t make sense. People don’t leave their tombs once they have died, least of all radical, controversial, itinerant teachers who make the Romans nervous, who touch lepers and have dinner with tax collectors and turn over the tables in the temple and preach on mountainsides. Nothing good comes out of Nazareth, after all. So all these rumors that he is the Messiah, the Son of God, seem a bit crazy. And resurrected? Impossible.

But in God’s logic, Easter Day makes all the sense in the world, because Jesus touched lepers and had dinner with tax collectors and turned over the tables in the temple and preached on the mountainside. It’s not by accident that the first person to truly see him, resurrected, is a woman, one of the least powerful and least important people in society at that time, 2,000 years ago. It’s not by accident that Jesus healed the outcasts, the beggars, the children. It’s not by accident that he called normal, everyday, imperfect people to be his disciples, wandering around, essentially homeless, spreading the word of love. It’s not by accident that after he is resurrected, we learn that the first things he does are nothing dramatic – he spends some time in the garden; he gives his friends fishing advice and makes a campfire by the lake; in the Gospel of Luke, he asks them for something to eat.

It’s no accident that Jesus’ final commandment to his apostles, the night he is arrested, was this: Love one another, as I have loved you. And on this morning, this brightest of mornings, he comes back to those he loves, even though they fell asleep in the garden, denied knowing him, and hid from the authorities when he was crucified. What does he do? He walks with them. He names them his brothers. He makes them breakfast. He never stops loving them.

We know something of what the disciples felt in those days following Jesus’ death. The world right now feels strange and uncertain to us. We are staying behind closed doors, we are separated from one another, unable to be with each other even if we are critically ill. We don’t know what comes next. We look outside and the dogwoods and the redbud are in bloom, the skies are blue and bright with sunlight, and it is strange to see such beauty and feel such grief. How can we think about resurrection?

Easter surprises us, every time. Just when we think that winter will never end, spring starts to bloom. Jesus’ life and death and resurrection were all surprises, nothing that made sense, but in God’s logic, they make all the sense in the world. So what do we take from that?

We walk in the garden, and remember that rebirth always will come. No matter how brown and bare the trees are, green leaves and blossoms sleep in them.

We remember that we are loved by a God who lived with us, died with us and rose to never die again, and we carry that love throughout this lifetime.

And we also remember his commandment. He loved us, not just so that we can hold onto that love for ourselves – he loved us so that we would know how to love one another. Now more than ever, when it is hard to see Easter in our isolation and our fear, we practice Easter by loving one another.

If we are healthy, then who is not? If we are safe, who is not? If we are able to stay home and have a home to stay in, who does not?

How can we love each other in this time when we need it more than ever?

We can share our resources. We can sew masks, send cards, give blood, donate to food banks, volunteer to tutor children, call and check in with our neighbors, especially those who live alone; give thanks for nurses and teachers and garbage truck workers and pharmacists and grocery store clerks, who are putting their health on the line every day.

Tombs and closed doors and crosses and pandemics will not stop love.

We celebrate the Resurrection because it is with us always, no matter what – even and especially in times when it’s hard to see the light in the darkness.

Most of all, we celebrate the Resurrection by being the Resurrection – by carrying and sharing the love which is Easter with us, all year round.

Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Christ is risen indeed!
Amen. 

This was written and recorded for Easter Day at Leaksville United Church of Christ, during the 2020 pandemic.

Lectionary for the day can be found here.
Image: Appearance of Jesus Christ to Maria Magdalena by Alexander Andreyevich Ivanov, 1835

Part 1, Easter service for Leaksville UCC:

Part 2, Easter service for Leaksville UCC: