Here is what we do not know: almost everything

Text: Matthew 28:1-10

We are creatures of a moment. Our lives are small bits of encapsulated time. Seemingly bounded on both ends, mortals with beginnings and endings. Here is what we know for sure: we go from ashes to ashes, dust to dust. We say on Ash Wednesday: Remember that you are dust. And to dust you shall return. As if we needed reminding. We are assembled in the beginning from the ashes of long-dead stars. We are disassembled in the end to become the dusty raw ingredients of some other new life. Here is what we know for sure: birth, life, death. For all of us, it is the same. The same story.

Both ends oddly are times of both fear and joy. These two feelings filled the hearts of Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. Fear and great joy, it says in Matthew’s version of the Easter story. When a child is born, as when Mary the mother of Jesus looked on her son, as all parents look on their children, they wonder: will this child be all right? Will this child be happy? Be safe? Be loved and love in return? Will this child be fed in the spirit? What will this child’s life be? Parents filled with anticipation and apprehension in equal parts. With worrying-ahead and with great joy in equal parts.

And at the end of lives, though we who remain mourn our loss, those who go, go with fear and joy, though perhaps not in equal parts, some more one way than the other.

As parents and as mourners, here is what we do not know: what comes next? what will be?

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to the tomb where the body of Jesus had been placed on the day of the previous Sabbath. Where he had been placed, dead, his death having been clear to everyone and attested to by the soldiers who went out to make sure. The two women went to watch the tomb, in Matthew’s story, not to anoint the body—that is in another Gospel. But to keep a vigil, to keep watch. Here is what they knew: Jesus was dead. The story of Jesus was over, except in memory. The once-promising story was ended, the closing scene had closed, fade to black, the credits had rolled off the screen. Were the two women sad? Of course they were, though it does not say so. How could they not have been saddened by both losses: both the loss of this man they loved and also the loss of everything everyone thought he was to bring: victory for Israel, freedom for the captives, a new world order. Finally, so important to Matthew, a good king of the line of David.

It turns out that the foundation of what they knew was shaky. The earth shook as they were at the tomb. It was scary, as earthquakes are. And scarier still: an angel in a white outfit suddenly appeared. It was a messenger—that’s what the word “angel” means—with a message for the two of them. The angel saw they were frightened. Who would not be? Do not be afraid, was the first thing the messenger said. As if they could not be. As if that would comfort them. Or maybe the angel meant to say: there is no reason to be frightened of me. I am just a messenger. The angel knew that they were seeking Jesus. And the angel said that Jesus was not there. Three clearly apparent things—their fear, their mission, and the empty tomb—one of which was astonishing.

Where was Jesus? He is not here, the angel said. Why not? Perhaps there were possible, reasonable explanations: Perhaps someone spirited him away (as the guards later think in verses we did not read). Perhaps this was the wrong tomb (probably not). Perhaps Jesus had only appeared dead (though they knew otherwise).

None of those things is the reason, says the messenger. Here is the message: Jesus has been raised. That is the reason Jesus was not there. Here is the same message again: Jesus has been raised from the dead. Here is the same message in a different form: You will see him soon, here, on this earth. As they did.

If you have come to Matthew’s Gospel looking for an explanation of what happened on Easter morning, you have come to the wrong place. There is no explanation. Matthew is big on history and genealogy, but not big on theology. Matthew’s is not like the Gospel of John. There is no theology here.

You may find that this text implies all sorts of things—in fact, people have been finding those things since the first century—but in this Gospel itself there are no implications drawn. There are only statements of fact. From this Gospel passage, here is all we know: the tomb was empty, Jesus was raised from the dead, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary saw him, Jesus spoke to them; and right after that the other disciples saw him, too, and he spoke to them. Aside from this, there is no help in Matthew for understanding Easter.

What did Jesus say to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary? He said “Hey, great to see you.” That’s really what the text says in Greek, which is translated in our Bible as “Greetings!” And he told them not to be afraid. What did Jesus say to the other eleven disciples? He gave them a command: go and baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Which we here, 2000 years later, are about to do. And he told them to teach others all that they had seen and heard.

Most of the Gospel of Matthew is full of prophecy and prediction and foreshadowing, as we have talked about these past Sundays. But in the end, at the end, the message is this: keep your eyes and ears open, let Jesus greet you, tell everyone about it. Without elaboration or explanation. And tell them to do the same.

We are creatures of a moment. Here is what we do not know: almost everything. The story rarely turns out the way we think it will. The story is rarely over when we think it is. The boundaries are rarely as established as we think they are.

The Gospel of Matthew ends as Jesus meets with the disciples. But their experience of Jesus did not end there. The discovery of the empty tomb, the risen Christ, the appearance of Jesus gave energy and courage to the followers of Jesus to do as he ordered, telling the story over and over again. As we still do. Something happened—and continues to happen—with Jesus to transform people and shape their lives.

If we—like Mary Magdalene and Mary and the other disciples—if we follow Jesus, here’s one thing we know for sure: we will be surprised.