Keeping Hope Alive in the Face of Hopelessness

 

 This is a really rough Easter season for anyone who is paying attention to news in the United States.  It is even tougher when you live in a part of the country where there are many who don't seem to want to believe that the administration currently in the White House is, well, fascist. 

This is not enviable place for those who are charged to preach hope. There are those who think we should not. That we should only live in Good Friday. 

Sorry, but I have lived through enough stuff that makes the grass grow green to throw in the towel and believe that unless I rend my clothes and sit in ashes, I am failing. 

Because even though we are in the ash heap of current events right now...I am not giving up on hope. 

I believe in the power of Love. And I believe that Love will not fail us in the end. 

See what you think.

Text: Luke 24:1-12

+++

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

My mother would always call me on Easter Sunday and that was the first thing she would say. And… good Episcopalian child that I was…I knew what to say in response.

I hadn’t put a lot of thought into the power…the liberation…the absolute sense of Love having scored a major victory that is embedded into that call and response of Easter in our liturgy.

The “Alleluia” is the Greek rendering of the Hebrew phrase “Hallelujah”…a shout of joy…and yelling from the roof tops “Praise the Lord!”

Praise the Holy One for raising Jesus from the dead!

Indeed…let us rejoice and be glad in this!! Praise the Lord!

I imagine this must have been what Mary Magdalene…Joanna…and Mary and the other women were shouting as they ran to tell the eleven apostles all that they’d seen. The men were huddled somewhere…and fearfully pondering their next move.

Things up to this point had been looking bleak.

They had witnessed Jesus’ arrest.

They saw how the Empire executed Jesus …nailing him to a Roman cross.

They knew their lives were in danger.

Meanwhile…the women who had followed Jesus…also knew that there was some serious work that needed to be done.

Jesus’s burial had happened hastily.

They knew Joseph of Arimathea had taken their friend’s body…wrapped it in a linen cloth…and put in a tomb.

But because of Passover…he hadn’t taken the time to wash the body.

So the women prepared the frankincense…the myrrh…and mixed it with nard oil.

Perhaps as they put together the spices…they consoled each other…mingling their tears with this fragrant ointment.

Everything had looked so promising when they entered Jerusalem a week ago.

Jesus had filled them with such hope.

How quickly things fell apart.

They went to the tomb still in a state of shock and grief and sadness.

And when they found the stone had been rolled away…their hearts probably dropped to their stomachs.

“No, no, no. Please, no.

Wasn’t it enough to have humiliated Jesus by killing him like a common criminal?

Where is his body?

Why have they taken him?”

And as they stood there…distressed and horrified to see that his body was gone…two men suddenly appear.

The women drop to the ground.

Who were these two strangers?

Could this be their end, too?

Could these men be coming to take them away for visiting the grave of the one who had so threatened the status quo?

The jar of spices…carefully blended with love…hits the ground and spills open…filling the tomb with sweet and pungent earthiness…as these women tremble before these two unknown characters.

One of these dazzling figures offers them words of comfort and assurance:

“Mary…Mary…Joanna…it’s OK. Please…don’t prostrate yourselves. Why are looking for the living among the dead?”

We can imagine a collective gasp from the women.

“Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

The women look around at each other.

Suddenly…the memories flood back into their heads of all that Jesus had said…everything that he had been telling his followers once he set off toward Jerusalem.

It’s all happened…just as he said it would.

He is risen!

Alleluia! He is risen!

They go to tell the men.

And…of course… the men don’t believe them.

There are some who have tried to argue that the men didn’t believe the women because Jewish men didn’t accept the testimony of women.

But New Testament scholar Amy-Jill Levine says this isn’t about sexism; this was about belief.

And as much as the male disciples said they believed…they needed help in their unbelief.

I think that’s a common issue among all of us who call ourselves Christian.

When our world gets so badly shaken…and turned inside out and upside down…our beliefs get tested to the breaking point.

Many of us are happier with concrete answers to difficult questions.

We do better with certainty than with ambiguity.

And death is a reality.

That was the same mindset of those who were these male followers of Jesus.

They knew what had happened.

They understood death.

But now these women have told them that what they thought was a fact…turned out to be a fiction.

Never mind that the women reminded them of Jesus’ promise that he would die and rise on the third day.

That’s all just talk…not reality.

Peter takes off and goes to the tomb and then confirms their story for himself.

He’s amazed.

And then he goes home.

Was this all too good to be true?

Jesus would later show himself…to the two disciples walking on the road to Emmaus …and then again to all of them as they gathered and were trying to make sense of what the women had already told them.

Jesus will open their minds to the Scriptures…and he will charge them to get out there and deliver a message of forgiveness…mercy…and love…because they have been witnesses that you can’t find the living among the dead.

Love can’t be killed.

And it will not be buried in a tomb.

Go! Get out there! Share!

I know that it’s hard sometimes to think of ourselves as evangelists…largely because that word has taken on a different and not always positive meaning in our times.

But the Easter story…this narrative that we have inherited from our ancestors…is about sticking with hope when everything seems hopeless.

And then walking alongside those who are feeling lost and afraid…reminding them that they are not alone.

Together…bound by hope…we will survive.

And when doubts arise in our hearts…as they will…return to our faith in that Source of Love who helps us to overcome our fears and guide us through those times when we feel as though we are walking a gauntlet.

Whether it’s uncertainty about the future of our job…a medical diagnosis… or even the grade on a test at school that will determine if we get to the next level of learning… our faith teaches us to not give into worry and despair when hope is always an option.

Right now… we are living at a time when it is vital for us not to keep Jesus in the tomb…but to dwell in the reality that Jesus is alive.

Tap into the liberation of knowing that Love will not be put down by the bullies and tyrants of the world…the purveyors of death… and the robbers of our joy.

Love is calling us to life.

Love is commanding us to choose life…real life.

To stand up…and keep loving…with courage…and mercy…and compassion.

When kindness is in short supply…we have faith in a God who has the means to meet the demand.

And it begins with us.

We can meet this moment…with God’s help.

May we carry this Good News in our hearts…keep hope alive…and shout it out…

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!