A sermon for Easter 2007 based upon
Luke 24:1-12
In the name of Jesus; amen.
What were they remembering as they made their way to the tomb?
Were they remembering the way to go? Which turns to make, what landmarks to pass? Were they remembering the ritual that they were about to perform? Did it remind them of other times they had done it?
Were they remembering the list of spices that they carried? Had they remembered to bring everything? Was something missing?
What were these women remembering as they watched the sun come up on their way to his grave?
Joanna had been a financial supporter, the wife of Herod’s steward she had supplied money for his ministry. Was she remembering putting the coins in his hand, the look in his eye as he thanked her?
And Mary, the mother of James, one of his disciples; what was she remembering? Was it the first time her son told her about this man he was going to follow? Did she remember worrying back then what might happen when she let him go?
What about Mary Magdalene? Was she remembering that moment when he had freed her from the demons that haunted her? Was that the moment stuck in her memory… or was it the moment when she had watched him lifted up on the cross? Was it the moment that she saw that he was dead?
What were they remembering as they went to the place they were sure he would be?
Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes it can sneak up on us unawares and make us giggle or bring a tear to our eye. It can bring on feelings of guilt once thought quelled or make us crave food we haven’t tasted in years.
There are memories I wish that I could retain and memories I wish I could forget. There is an incompleteness to memory. It only shares with us bits and pieces of what really happened. I always find it interesting to reminisce with old friends because I am amazed at the things that my mind has retained and the things it has forgotten.
Our memories as much as our past shape us; they create who we are and help us process who we want to be.
As they walked to the tomb these women’s memories were changing them. This is what happens when someone dies especially someone we hold dear, someone we have supported, spent time with, laughed and cried with. Because when someone dies you become uniquely aware that your connection to them is now only through memory.
They believed all they had left was yesterday and the time before that.
Whatever they were remembering, they had forgotten something.
When they came to the tomb they found that the stone had been rolled away. They had remembered that it had been put there. Certainly they remembered the size and shape of it; they must have remembered the sound of it grinding against the rock behind it as it was moved to seal the tomb. It must have been a noise etched into their memory, one that made them cringe when they thought of it.
They remembered that his body had been wrapped and placed in the cave. They had watched it happen… every agonizing moment, but when they went inside he wasn’t there and they were perplexed.
It wasn’t like they remembered? Had they gotten it wrong? Taken a wrong turn? Entered the wrong tomb?
“This is the place, isn’t it?”
And then suddenly two men in dazzling white appear and they are terrified… “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”
Where were their memories then? Because they remembered him dead… dead and gone. That was their last memory of him. He had been taken down from the cross, wrapped in a shroud and put in a tomb… there were no other memories.
“Remember… 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.”
Then they remembered… they remembered his words, the thing that he had told them and suddenly memory turned into hope and hope turned into joy. And it didn’t matter that the others found it an idle tale… their memories had been transformed into a vision of the future.
See, Easter isn’t about memories, but how our memories are healed and made new. Easter heals our memories.
It heals our memories of guilt and sin… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have forgiveness.
It heals our memories of sorrow and loss… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have the surety of newness and reunion.
It heals our memories of brokenness and pain… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we might have joy in our lives with him.
Good Friday is a memory, but Easter is a present reality. He is not dead, but is risen!
Do not forget.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! Amen!
What were they remembering as they made their way to the tomb?
Were they remembering the way to go? Which turns to make, what landmarks to pass? Were they remembering the ritual that they were about to perform? Did it remind them of other times they had done it?
Were they remembering the list of spices that they carried? Had they remembered to bring everything? Was something missing?
What were these women remembering as they watched the sun come up on their way to his grave?
Joanna had been a financial supporter, the wife of Herod’s steward she had supplied money for his ministry. Was she remembering putting the coins in his hand, the look in his eye as he thanked her?
And Mary, the mother of James, one of his disciples; what was she remembering? Was it the first time her son told her about this man he was going to follow? Did she remember worrying back then what might happen when she let him go?
What about Mary Magdalene? Was she remembering that moment when he had freed her from the demons that haunted her? Was that the moment stuck in her memory… or was it the moment when she had watched him lifted up on the cross? Was it the moment that she saw that he was dead?
What were they remembering as they went to the place they were sure he would be?
Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes it can sneak up on us unawares and make us giggle or bring a tear to our eye. It can bring on feelings of guilt once thought quelled or make us crave food we haven’t tasted in years.
There are memories I wish that I could retain and memories I wish I could forget. There is an incompleteness to memory. It only shares with us bits and pieces of what really happened. I always find it interesting to reminisce with old friends because I am amazed at the things that my mind has retained and the things it has forgotten.
Our memories as much as our past shape us; they create who we are and help us process who we want to be.
As they walked to the tomb these women’s memories were changing them. This is what happens when someone dies especially someone we hold dear, someone we have supported, spent time with, laughed and cried with. Because when someone dies you become uniquely aware that your connection to them is now only through memory.
They believed all they had left was yesterday and the time before that.
Whatever they were remembering, they had forgotten something.
When they came to the tomb they found that the stone had been rolled away. They had remembered that it had been put there. Certainly they remembered the size and shape of it; they must have remembered the sound of it grinding against the rock behind it as it was moved to seal the tomb. It must have been a noise etched into their memory, one that made them cringe when they thought of it.
They remembered that his body had been wrapped and placed in the cave. They had watched it happen… every agonizing moment, but when they went inside he wasn’t there and they were perplexed.
It wasn’t like they remembered? Had they gotten it wrong? Taken a wrong turn? Entered the wrong tomb?
“This is the place, isn’t it?”
And then suddenly two men in dazzling white appear and they are terrified… “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”
Where were their memories then? Because they remembered him dead… dead and gone. That was their last memory of him. He had been taken down from the cross, wrapped in a shroud and put in a tomb… there were no other memories.
“Remember… 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.”
Then they remembered… they remembered his words, the thing that he had told them and suddenly memory turned into hope and hope turned into joy. And it didn’t matter that the others found it an idle tale… their memories had been transformed into a vision of the future.
See, Easter isn’t about memories, but how our memories are healed and made new. Easter heals our memories.
It heals our memories of guilt and sin… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have forgiveness.
It heals our memories of sorrow and loss… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we have the surety of newness and reunion.
It heals our memories of brokenness and pain… because Jesus died and was resurrected so that we might have joy in our lives with him.
Good Friday is a memory, but Easter is a present reality. He is not dead, but is risen!
Do not forget.
Alleluia! Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! Alleluia! Amen!
No comments:
Post a Comment