A Fourth Church Sermon by Adam H. Fronczek

Easter Sunday, April 8, 2007 | 6:30 a.m.

Ordinary Resurrections

Adam H. Fronczek
Associate Pastor, Fourth Presbyterian Church

Luke 24

There is a story, retold in the recent novel Devil in the White City, about medical schools in the late nineteenth century being in dire need of cadavers and how medical students were commonly sent out as grave robbers. One medical school president in Kentucky suggested that in the late 1800s, any cemetery near a medical school probably didn’t contain a single body.

There is a story, told by the ancient poet Euripides, about how Heracles discovers that his friend’s wife has died, so he makes use of his superhuman strength to wrestle with Death until Death cries for mercy and agrees to restore the woman to life.

There is a story about a young woman with black hair who lives with seven little men, eats a poisoned apple given to her by an evil queen, and falls asleep until the love of a prince saves her from her deathlike state.

In the history of humankind, there is no shortage of stories about death, no shortage of stories about empty graves, and no shortage of stories about people who come back to life. This is understandable, because there is nothing in the world quite so universal as death, and so the idea that we might defeat it is an attractive one to speculate upon. We have stories like that of Heracles because we’d like to think that we can figure out how death gets defeated, and we have stories like that of Snow White because we like the idea that when death is defeated it is because love is stronger. And so it’s important, I think, on the morning that we tell and retell this story about the women who find the tomb empty that we ask what is distinctive about this story about death and resurrection and why is it so important to know it and to tell it.

There is a story of women named Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and their friends. One of their friends, their teacher, their companion, has been unjustly put to death, and according to their traditions, they will go to his tomb and anoint his body with particular spices. They have rested on Saturday, the day that is their sabbath, but the very next morning they leave early, they go to the tomb of their friend, and they find the tomb empty. They did not expect this. Jesus had been crucified; they had seen him taken away’ they had seen him on the cross, dead; they had seen his body removed by a man named Joseph, and they knew that Joseph had laid him in the tomb. How could this be? How could it have turned out so differently from what they expected to find?

As the women stand pondering what they have just discovered, two men appear. The women, understandably, are frightened. Who are these men? Are they grave robbers? Will they explain what has happened? The story does not tell us the answers to questions like that. What these men do say is that the friends of Jesus should remember what he said to them in Galilee: that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again. And to the already confused and frightened women, they put a question: Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here. but has risen.

So the women spend some time remembering. They think back to Galilee and their time with Jesus there. Galilee was their home. It was the place of everyday life for them. There they had eaten and drunk with Jesus, and they had heard him teach. They had watched him challenge unfair authorities and help out the lowly and the poor. In Galilee, Jesus told stories to illustrate points. He helped people think about how to use their money. He told a story about a father who killed the fatted calf for his wayward son and about a Samaritan who nursed a stranger back to health after he fell into the hands of robbers.

He was always talking about forgiveness and hospitality that way, and the other incredible thing about spending time with Jesus was that it wasn’t just a bunch of talk. Jesus actually lived his life that way. It seemed like every time Jesus ran into someone who regretted the bad things they had done, he would take the time to talk with them and see their sorrow and their pain and he would say something that would give them hope. He was always preaching and talking about big ideas, about the kingdom of God that would be coming soon, but he didn’t neglect the here and now. At a time in Galilee when 4,000 people came to hear him preach, the people listened to him and then he figured out a way to feed every one of them so that no one went home hungry. And in the midst of this flood of memories, the women couldn’t help but think about how in the midst of all of these amazing stories and acts, there were always naysayers and skeptics, there were always people challenging Jesus’ views and threatening him, there were always people who wanted to talk about death, and Jesus would listen, but you could just tell that what he really wanted to do was tell people about life.

The women did remember that he had said to them that the Son of Man would be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again. Other people wanted death even though Jesus wanted life.

In the flood of all these memories, the last few days became clearer. When the women thought about the way Jesus lived in Galilee from day to day, it was easier to understand why he did what he did in the last days.

They had had trouble understanding why he chose to spend his last meal with a group of friends who were about to desert him and betray him. They had heard that at that meal he washed their feet and gave them a new commandment: that they love one another as he had loved them.

They had trouble understanding how, after being mocked and flogged, he looked down from the cross and said, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they are doing.”

They had trouble understanding how he had looked at that common criminal who hung next to him and said, “Today you will be with me in paradise.”

Jesus always seemed to want to talk about life, and in those last difficult days, it had been hard to talk about life.

Sometimes it is hard to talk about life. It’s easier to be pessimistic, to be a critic and cynic. It’s easier to talk about hopelessness than it is to talk about hope; it’s easier to talk about ways that you feel stuck in the present rather than talking about the hopes you have for the future.

The reason that the story of the resurrection of Jesus Christ is so special has nothing to do with a poisoned apple or a kiss or a wrestling match or a bargain. It’s not explainable in human terms or through a clever reference to historical circumstances. What is distinctive about this story is that the women are told to remember. Remember where they have been and what Jesus taught them. Remember that in the midst of the everyday at home in Galilee, there were ordinary resurrections, little moments where Jesus saw hopelessness and despair and death and brought a message or deed of life. And in our own lives, there are moments each day for resurrection: there are moments for hospitality and forgiveness; there are moments for laughter and song; there are moments for celebration and reconciliation. Remember the things that Jesus said and did and make them a part of your own life. Remember that Jesus knows death is coming and he never ignores that fact, but he wants life for us.

Jesus, who had a body like every one of us, sat at a meal and took bread and gave thanks to God for the miracle of life and then he said, “This is my body, which is given for you. Whenever you eat this bread, do this in remembrance of me.” “Remember me as I was in Galilee and love one another as I have loved you.”

Amen.