Holy Terror




Homily:

Lord, we pray for the preacher, for You know his sins are great.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Grace, mercy, and peace to you from God our Father and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Flowers, chocolates, eggs, pastels—let’s do away with all that for the moment. Let us denude ourselves of the patina of sentimentality in which we wrap our Easter celebrations, so that we might imagine instead what it must have been like on that Day of Resurrection. Chaos, confusion, wonder, terror—these are what we witness in the pages of our Scriptures: a catastrophic breach in the fabric of our world: reality as we know it upside-down.

For three-and-a-half years they followed Him, through Galilee, Judea, Phoenicia, Samaria; three-and-a-half years of teachings, healings, exorcisms, and miracles. In an age when the Galilee was known for wonderworkers, this enigmatic rabbi gathered fishermen and tax collectors, preaching a radical Gospel of the coming Kingdom of God. They must’ve known it was dangerous work; they’d seen what Rome had done to so very many messiahs before Him. Yet there was something different in this Man, something more.

He accomplished impossible things, and taught scandalous truths, opening their minds and hearts to God within their midst. And so when He rode into Jerusalem on a donkey like a King, when He taught about the toppling of the Temple, His Apostles must’ve known their adventure was coming to a head. The whole city was a powder-keg, and Jesus was the match. But if anyone could do it, if anyone could survive the machinations of Jerusalem and the cruelties of Rome, it would surely be Him, surely be Jesus.

Yet suddenly the whole thing fell apart. The Passover, which they’d come to the city to celebrate, and which they’d had to eat at a secret location in the night, became something more: a last testament, a last command from Jesus. In the midst of it, Judas up and left, and soon thereafter Jesus. He hiked them out of the city, in the dark, through a valley full of tombs, and then up the Mount of Olives, a rather steep ascent. It had to have been terrifying, knowing any moment they could die.

And then Judas called the cops, who came with swords and clubs, such that all of the Apostles ran away, scattered into shadows. The authorities railroaded Jesus through a kangaroo court and crucified Him right outside the city. The earth shook, and the sun was blotted out. Yet none of that kept Him from dying. None of that kept Him from being taken down, hastily wrapped up in linens and spices, and thrown into the tomb of a stranger.

Then what? Well, the next day was Saturday, the sabbath. Travel was forbidden; people couldn’t walk but half a mile. And so the Apostles stayed holed up and hidden, behind locked doors, fearing those who’d murdered Jesus might come for them as well. I wish we could’ve known what all they said, what that day must’ve been like for each one: their agony, their loss, their fear and grief and shame. Things only got weirder from there.

Early Sunday morning, before the sun had risen, Mary Magdalene, and other women from amongst Jesus’ disciples and His family, set out for His tomb in order to properly care for His corpse. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea had spared no expense on Friday night, but it was a rush job. The women were going out in order to do it right. This took a lot of guts. Pilate sealed the tomb and stationed guards. How would they roll back the stone? Or what if the armed men decided to make an example of them there and then?

But soon the women came running back, not because they’d lost their nerve, but because of what they’d found: the guards gone, seals broken, tomb opened; and angels dressed in white who said, “He’s gone. He isn’t here. He has risen.” Peter and John, flabbergasted, ran out to the tomb, to find exactly what the women said they’d seen: the burial cloths folded and lying to the side; Jesus’ body missing. Here John began to believe.

The boys wandered back whilst Mary lingered at the tomb, where something even stranger then occurred. Again she came running, breathlessly proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!”  Jesus had met her by His tomb, she declared. Yet how could they believe her crazy tale? It must’ve seemed the rantings of her grief.

At this point, Clopas, one of Christ’s disciples, along with a companion who would likely be his wife, had perhaps the most relatable and human reaction to all of these events: they ran. They had seen Jesus die when they had hoped He’d be their king. Now, two days later, people were babbling about the dead coming out of their graves? These two might not know what the heck is happening, but they get while the getting is good. They skedaddled out from Jerusalem up the road to Emmaus.

But they didn’t get very far. Along the way they encountered a stranger, who spoke to them of the Christ, setting their hearts aflame. And once they stopped to break their bread with Him, something like scales fell from their eyes and they could see that He was Jesus. No sooner did they realize this than He vanished from their sight.

Immediately, despite the fact that it was now evening, when decent people did not travel the roads, Clopas and his wife ran straight back to Jerusalem, transformed from fearful to fearless, proclaiming to the Apostles that Jesus Christ is risen! And in response, the Apostles tell them, “Yes, we know. He has appeared to Simon Peter.” Now, we have several references to this meeting in the New Testament, but no direct account. Would that we had! I’d love to hear what Jesus had to say to Simon Peter.

Imagine how insane this must have been. Right on the heels of violence, the terrors of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday, suddenly we have breathless accounts of people who knew Jesus, who loved Him, now encountering Him everywhere. What was going on? What did it all mean? Were Mary and Peter and Clopas lying? To what end? Perhaps they’d all gone mad! Mind you, it’s still Sunday; this is yet a single day.

And as they’re comparing notes, as they’re repeating their stories, eyes wide, pulses racing, still behind closed doors, still locked away for fear of the authorities—suddenly He is here! Jesus appears among them, with holes in in His hands, with a gash in His side. And I have to imagine that all of them are terrified! How would you feel, if you’d abandoned your friend, your mentor, your teacher; if you ran off into the night to leave Him to His fate; scourged with the lash, crowned with thorns, nailed to a cross, impaled by a spear?

Do you think He’d be in a good mood once He got back up? Or do you imagine that this Jesus, whatever the heck He is—god, man, or something even more—might still have some scores to settle? We killed Him in the worst way we knew how. We threw everything at Him except for the kitchen sink. We made sure He was dead-dead; we cast Him down to hell. And He just got back up? Are you kidding me? What, is it His turn now? Is Michael going to come with all of Heaven’s hellions?

Once you kill a God, you don’t want Him coming back.

But what He says is: “Peace. Peace be with you. My peace I give to you. I forgive you all your sins, that you may forgive all the rest. And I breathe My Spirit into you, My Life, My Breath, My Power. It is not only I who have risen, for you now are raised within Me.”

He did it. He beat death. He conquered hell. He liberated every soul from every ancient sin. And now He is with us again: our King, our Lord, and our God; bearing the scars that we gave Him; pouring out His own life for the damned. This is the feast of victory for our God. Alleluia.

In the days and weeks ahead—the centuries, millennia—we will struggle to understand the implications of this night, the remaking of the order of the cosmos. Yet for this Easter Sunday, let us sit within our wonder. Let us marvel at the triumph of our King.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In the Name of the Father and of the +Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.







Pertinent Links

RDG Stout
Blog: https://rdgstout.blogspot.com/
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Twitter: https://x.com/RDGStout

St Peter’s Lutheran
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Website: https://www.stpetersnymills.org/
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Nidaros Lutheran
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YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@nidaroschurch6026

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