Being There

A sermon preached with the people of Lordstown Lutheran Church in Lordstown, Ohio.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen!

This morning, we are celebrating in the dramatic fashion of Matthew’s gospel, complete with an earthquake and an angel that looks like lightning.

And we are celebrating with Mary Magdalene and the so-called “other Mary.” These two women get to be the first witnesses of the Risen Christ. The first to celebrate Easter. And the first to proclaim the Gospel.

These two women who were there. Who were always there. At the crucifixion, when the men had fled, they were there. When Joseph of Arimethea laid Jesus’ body to rest, they were there.

And this morning, after the sabbath, here they are. Again. Still faithful. Still there.

After days of trauma. Witnesses to violence. Full of the deep grief and sadness that loss brings.

When they arrive this morning, we don’t even know why they’re there. In Mark’s gospel, they’ve specifically come to anoint Jesus’ body, but here in Matthew’s version, they’ve simply come to “see.” Maybe they knew what they’d find. Maybe they absolutely understood that Jesus would be raised from the dead, and they wanted to bear witness to that. Or maybe they simply felt a pull to do what they have always done, so faithfully. To be there.

Whatever the reason, their insistence on being there continues to be brave. The tomb is watched by the guards of an empire that just put Jesus to death. Their safety is far from guaranteed.

And as they approach, the ground shakes as an angel descends from heaven, rolls out the stone at the entrance of the tomb, and then takes a seat on said stone.

The angel “looks like lightning.” What an image. The imperial guards become so frightened that they pass out.

 And the women? They remain steady enough for long enough to hear this embodied lightning tell them not to be afraid. 

 And then the angel tells them the best news that has ever or will ever be: Jesus has been raised from the dead. And then, the angel sends them off to preach that good news.

 And on their way to follow these directions, with both ”fear and joy,” the women meet Jesus. The risen Christ.

And they grab onto him. I imagine they do this with some desperation. I imagine the terror and tragedy of these last days flow out of them. I imagine tears. As they worship him. As they pray.

And Jesus, like the angel, tells them not to be afraid. And sends them off, again, to preach the good news. But they already had their instructions. Why did they need them again? I wonder if it has to do with being there.

With Jesus being there, in person, for these women. As they have been there for him. Presence. Being there. It seems to be an important part of this story.

 Matthew closes his Gospel with Jesus’ words to his disciples and to all of us, “I am with you always, to the end of the age.” That’s God’s promise to us, and it is what, we, as Christians, at our best offer to one another and to our communities.

 The truth is, this is a terrifying world a lot of the time. We experience earthquakes caused not by descending angels, but by tectonic shifts. We experience all manner of natural disaster, getting more and more common as a result of our own neglect of our planet. We experience cruelty and hate. War and genocide. Mass murder. We experience the kind of violence that led to the state execution of our God.

 And even through all of this, God and God’s angels tell us over and over again, “do not be afraid.” Because God is there. When the world is terrifying, and when the world is beautiful.

And we, like Mary and Mary, are called to be there too. With one another and with God. In desperate moments and joyous moments, To listen, to sit with, to wait with. Even when and especially when it’s scary and we don’t know what will happen.

I don’t know about you, but when I am about to offer my presence with someone who is very sick, or hurt, or close to death, or has died. Or someone who is experiencing an unimaginable grief, I get scared. I worry I will be one of the frozen Roman guards. It is in these moments I call on God and God’s angels. I hear their refrain, “do not be afraid.” And when I cross that threshold, I may be sad, I may be angry, I may feel all kinds of emotions. But I am not afraid. Not really. Because God is always right there.

You Lordstown Lutheran, are there. I’ve heard it these last few weeks and months! The way you show up for one another – this congregation and the community, through challenges and celebrations.

This being there is a glimpse – just a glimpse – of the promise of life in God’s Kingdom -- the everlasting life -- we celebrate today. The promise of God’s presence, forever.

 As we go out from this place on this Easter Sunday let us recommit ourselves to being there like brave Mary and Mary before us, with the assurance that the risen Christ will be there too, and will meet us on the road. Always.

Alleluia, Christ is Risen!