One of the things I love about rewatching a tv show, or rereading a book series, is the delight of remembering and noticing and connecting the dots as we encounter the story again in a new way. Within the context of the whole series, suddenly we can see clearly the trajectory of character development, and appreciate the deft foreshadowing that just went over our heads the first time through.
It is this experience of remembering, of the light bulb blinking on and dots connecting that comes to mind as I hear Luke’s Easter story.
It was at least five women who had awoken early that Sunday morning, meeting in the fading darkness to go to the tomb. As the sun began to rise and brighten the sky, they carried with them spices they had prepared for the somber work of anointing the body of their dear teacher and friend.
Arriving at the tomb, they found the stone rolled away and body nowhere to be seen. The women - or, as my favorite Lutheran band Lost & Found refers to them, the Spice Girls - are perplexed. But before they could even attempt to make sense of this, suddenly there were two men in dazzling clothes standing beside them. Confusion turned to terror and the women bowed their faces to the ground - in reverence, or fear, or self-preservation.
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| He is not here - Hanna Varghese |
I imagine their perplexed expressions returning as the heavenly messengers began to speak. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen.”
Wait, hold on - ‘the living’?! What do you mean he’s not here? He had been there. The women had been there. They had kept vigil at a distance as Jesus died, had followed his body in procession, had watched as he was laid in that very tomb on Friday afternoon.
I imagine the heavenly messengers speaking with great compassion and growing excitement as they nudged the women to remember, to connect the dots, to see the whole picture of this glorious, surprising, amazing good news.
“Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son-of-Man must be handed over to the hands of sinners and be crucified and on the third day rise again.”
The women did remember. Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary and the other women remembered Jesus’ words about what would come about, describing pain and promise, death and life. Three times in Luke’s Gospel we hear Jesus tell his disciples very clearly and explicitly what would happen to him. And each time we hear that the disciples didn’t understand. The meaning was hidden from them, the words didn’t make sense, they could not connect the dots.
But now? Now the women remembered his words. It was all true! Jesus had been handed over to the hands of sinners, had been crucified, and now it was the third day. Of course he’s not here! Of course he has risen! It’s just like he told us. As the meaning sinks in, as their memory solidifies, I imagine them lifting their faces from the ground, looking at one another with eyes full of recognition and hope. They remembered. And then, returning from the tomb the women told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.
As the news of Jesus’ resurrection spread to his friends and followers, it was always the remembering that did it, the remembering, the connecting to their earlier experiences that convinced them it was true, that Jesus really had been raised.
The risen Jesus appears to his followers twice on Easter evening in this final chapter of Luke’s Gospel - once, to some followers on the road to Emmaus, and then to his disciples, gathered together discussing the unbelievable rumor of his resurrection. Even then, though, as Jesus stands in front of them in the flesh they do not recognize him; they find it hard to believe. They do not recognize him until they are invited, nudged, to remember.
There, in that familiar way, Jesus opened the scriptures to them and taught them, just as he had done so many times before - and they remembered; their hearts and minds were opened. As he had done all those times before, Jesus took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them - and in that action, in the breaking of the bread, they remembered and recognized him. As he had done all those times before, he took some fish and ate in their presence - and they remembered and knew it was really him, really alive, and not a ghost.
For however familiar this Easter story is for us, the proclamation that Jesus has been raised is still perplexing and hard to believe. Can it really be true that death is defeated when there is so much violence and destruction, when we still find ourselves shrouded in grief? Can it really be true that God reigns victorious when injustice and evil seem to have the upper hand? Can it really be true that we are forgiven and loved just as we are when the voices of shame and despair try so persistently to convince us otherwise?
On this Easter Day, we, too, are invited to remember Jesus’ words, his promises, his familiar actions, and, in remembering, to recognize him, believe, and share the good news.
When the scriptures are opened to us, we remember the stories of salvation history - the stories of God leading God’s people from enslavement and exile into freedom and life; the stories of God making a way where there seemed to be no way; the stories of God doing a new thing; the stories of God’s gracious provision and abundant mercy.
When the scriptures are opened to us, we remember Jesus’ life and ministry. We remember how he was anointed with the Holy Spirit; went about doing good; healed the sick and dying and demon-possessed; welcomed the poor and outcast, the disregarded and despised; and called and sent out disciples to share in the work of proclaiming God's presence and peace.
When the water is poured, we remember. In the waters of baptism we die to sin and are raised to new life, joined to Jesus in his death and resurrection. Claimed as God’s children, we are forgiven and loved and belong to God forever.
When the bread is broken and the cup is shared, we remember. In this meal - given and shed for you - the risen Jesus is present, granting us salvation, forgiveness, and life.
When we gather in community as the Body of Christ, we remember. We recognize Jesus in the needs and gifts of our neighbors as we follow his command to love. We offer and receive encouragement and prayer, worship and serve and share meals together so that we might be reminded of Jesus’ presence in our midst.
In just a bit, we’ll hear these words in the prayer of thanksgiving as we share in communion: “Remembering, therefore, his life-giving death and glorious resurrection, we await your promised life for all this dying world.”
As we await the fulfillment of God’s promises, we trust that the risen Jesus is with us in the midst of our grief and pain, our longing and our hope. When we remember and when we forget, when believing is easy and when it all seems like an idle tale, this good news persists: God’s love is stronger than division and discord and even death. God’s forgiveness, grace, and love are for you. Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed. Alleluia!
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