Acts of the Apostles 8.26-40
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC
Fort Collins, Colorado
April 29, 2018
 
Sometimes I wonder how certain stories made it into the Bible. This particular episode in the Acts of the Apostles, for instance, involves including someone who to the religious authorities of the day would have been an outsider and an outcast, not so much because of his African heritage, but because he was a eunuch, and therefore would be exempted from the Temple and from making sacrificial offerings. It was not simply his inability to reproduce or that he was androgen-deprived…he was considered to be ritually unclean.

Why would the author of Luke’s gospel and its companion volume, the Acts of the Apostles, have chosen to include this story? The function it serves is to show that people who previously had been excluded from the circle of those whom God favored are now included…the circle has expanded beyond just the people of Israel to include gentiles and not just some of them, but all of them...no one gets left out. No one is outcast. No one is less-than. No one is second-rate. No one is exempt from God’s love…not even you.

I’d like you to turn to a neighbor and tell them something. I know this will make a few of you uncomfortable…but give it a try anyway. Look them in the eye and say, “God loves you, and there is nothing you can do about it.” That isn’t original…it’s something Jane Anne’s dad used to do in congregations he served. And it is true.

The function of this sermon in our time, especially among progressive Christians, is to illustrate that no one has the prerogative to exclude people from full life in the church because of their sexual orientation or their gender or gender identity.

We in the UCC have been on the vanguard of the movement to extend a welcome to LGBT people for many years…from the ordination of Bill Johnson in 1972 to our national Open and Affirming declaration in 1985 to Plymouth’s adoption of its own Open and Affirming resolution in 2001. One of the most memorable moments for me as a young adult (having been away from the UCC for a dozen years) was walking into the narthex of First Congregational UCC in Boulder and seeing their Open and Affirming Declaration and thinking “Everyone is welcome here…I am welcome here.” In the fullness of who I am, they accept me, and God accepts me. Being Open and Affirming was new for the UCC back then. Think for a moment: is there a part of who you are that you think God finds unacceptable? Wrong? Not quite worthy? It doesn’t have to relate to your sexuality or your gender. God loves you, and there is nothing you can do about it.

Another memorable moment for me was speaking in favor of a same-sex marriage resolution on the floor of the UCC General Synod on July 4th, 2005. To stand up for all of my sisters and brothers who wanted to enjoy the blessing of marriage, regardless of the gender of their beloved, was profoundly meaningful. And it was costly. The Puerto Rico Conference of the UCC voted themselves out of the denomination in response. (I’ll post that online with this sermon if you’d like to see it.)

I want to take a moment to say thank you to the people who were here in 2001, who helped Plymouth to walk through the yearlong process of discernment and to those of you who may have helped another congregation to realize its mission of becoming Open and Affirming. And to those of you who wrote letters to the editor and to representative in the legislature and Congress asking our government to affirm marriage equality for all couples…thank you.

You were the people like Philip who saw that God’s love and blessing extends to all people, not to a select few, and you used your prayers, your political influence to make sure that happened. Thank you!

And the work is not done. The United Methodist Book of Discipline reads: “The practice of homosexuality is incompatible with Christian teaching. Therefore self-avowed practicing homosexuals are not to be certified as candidates, ordained as ministers, or appointed to serve in The United Methodist Church.” and “Ceremonies that celebrate homosexual unions shall not be conducted by our ministers and shall not be conducted in our churches.”

I have a feeling that our Methodist sisters and brothers will get there…they just have more folks who need to hear about the Ethiopian eunuch and the gospel of inclusion!

What you may not realize is that our leadership in the UCC has helped to influence others and to heal the spiritual lives of LGBT Christians not just in our denomination but in others as well.
Back in 1985 when the UCC General Synod passed our Open and Affirming resolution, we were alone among mainline denominations. Thirty-four years later, the General Convention of the Episcopal Church USA resolved in 2009 that ordination to the priesthood should be open to all. The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has been open to ordaining LGBT folks since 2010. The Presbyterian Church USA only in 2011 allowed its presbyteries to decide whether or not to ordain openly LGBT clergy.

We still have work to do…becoming truly Open and Affirming is more than a vote in 2001 and a moniker that we claim…it is something we need to live into every day. There may be some of us who don’t fully understand what it means to be transgender or gender-fluid. I remember a year ago when a CSU student introduced herself to me on a Sunday morning and told me that her pronouns are “they, them, and theirs.” And being the grammar nerd I am, I thought to myself “Well, plural pronouns simply don’t reflect singular individuals. How will that ever work?” The pronouns aren’t the issue, it’s how one understands oneself…as female, male, some of each, or neither. And at Plymouth we affirm that is totally okay! We have trans folks who have grown up at Plymouth as boys who now live as women. We have folks who embrace neither binary male-female gender, and we affirm that. God’s love doesn’t draw circles to delineate the loved from the unlovable…only we humans do that, and we do so to our own detriment.

The story of the Ethiopian eunuch is probably closer to including people of various gender identities than any other group. A eunuch may have appeared outwardly male but may not have considered himself as such. We do know that he and others considered him different, worthy of being categorized by his otherness.

In a child’s game, the children link arms tightly and as they move around together in a circle, they chant to the one child who is outside their group: “You’re out! You’re out! You can’t come in!” And they try not to let the one person break into the circle.

That is not how the kingdom of God works. We draw the circle ever-larger, acknowledging that each of us bears the imprint of God on our souls. And if we have a chant, perhaps it should reflect God’s love: “You’re in! You’re in! God won’t let you out.”

I’m going to guess that there are days when you have trouble finding hope that things are getting better…that God’s realm is breaking in…that we can make a difference.
And I’m here this morning to say thank you, because you are making a difference. You are changing lives. You are providing hope. You are bringing in a piece of the kingdom of God!
Amen.
 
© 2018 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.
 

Luke 24.13–35
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC,
Fort Collins, Colorado
22 April 2018
 
For as long as I can remember, this has been my favorite post-resurrection story. It presents the unfolding of faith as a journey of seeing the holy in our midst, which is the way it happens for most of us. I love the way Jesus walks alongside the two people without disclosing his true identity…just biding his time, interpreting scripture, continuing along the road to the village where the two people were heading. And then Jesus keeps on walking, but the two travelers call him back and ask him to stay with them since the day was reaching its end.

This is a key moment when the story turns: a moment of profound hospitality. What if the two travelers had not insisted that Jesus join them for the night? They might never have realized who he was or that he had been raised from death. In this country, we don’t have the same depth of understanding when it comes to hospitality that other cultures do, including the middle eastern culture in which Jesus lived. It wasn’t just a matter of being friendly or kind, but rather hospitality could have been a matter of survival. We just don’t get it – that kind of hospitality. Years ago when I was in South Korea as part of a UCC delegation, people went out of their way to ensure that we were comfortable and well-fed, offering me their beds, inviting me to a literal feast in a traditional home, and tuning in to where I was as a guest. For most Americans, hospitality is an afterthought.

Imagine yourself as a guest coming to Plymouth during our evening service. The sky is darkening, you pull into the parking lot and see lights on in the building…you go in and no one is there to greet you at the door, so you find your way inside and scope out the sanctuary. How could we do a better job as hosts? One way would be to have people greeting at the doors as we do each Sunday morning.
Now imagine yourself as a first-time visitor at Plymouth at one of our two morning services. Someone greeted you on the way in, and you enjoyed worship, but navigating the coffee hour can be intimidating, so you head over to the desk that says, “Welcome and Information,” but there isn’t anyone there. And you hope someone has noticed your blue coffee mug, but folks seem too busy talking with people they already know. My friends, I know we mean to offer better hospitality, and we can.

I would be grateful if one of you would step up and do these fairly simple ministries, and if you are interested, please be in touch with Jake and the Congregational Life Board. I believe that we genuinely mean to offer an extravagant welcome to people when they visit at Plymouth, and even though we will deliver a nice loaf of Great Harvest bread to your home if you visit and leave your address in the red friendship pad, we still have a lot to learn about how to make our guests feel truly welcome. Our welcome, no matter how we warm we intend it to be, seems less than extravagant, especially when compared to the hospitality Cleopas and his fellow traveller show Jesus. “They urged him strongly, saying, ‘Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is nearly over.’” How can we emulate that kind of open welcome as Christ’s family?

It strikes me as odd that Jesus, the guest at the table, takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them. Clearly, he switched roles and has become the host at the table. And his actions are recounted by Jake, Jane Anne, and me every time we celebrate communion: we take bread, bless it, break it, and give it. And it is in that moment of profound hospitality, in the breaking of the bread, that their eyes are opened and Jesus is made known to them. They have share a long, dusty journey together, and sharing the meal is the catalyst that enables them to experience the risen Christ.

Besides hospitality, eating is an important social phenomenon as well. In strictly hierarchical societies, people of different social classes don’t mix. You see it on Downton Abbey when those who eat upstairs would never eat with those downstairs. But think about where Jesus would be eating: Jesus, who defied the norms of purity by eating with sinners and tax collectors. This table — Christ’s table — is a representation of how the kingdom of God is meant to be for us: a table where there is no distinction because of class, gender, race, orientation, wealth, education, or ethnicity. It is a representation of God’s anti-imperial realm, where all of God’s children are welcome and no one is turned away.

The Emmaus story, the event at which Christ is made known to those who offer hospitality to a stranger, is a seminal event. We encounter the risen Christ in enacting profound hospitality. We encounter the risen Christ in the breaking of bread. We encounter the risen Christ in overturning the broken norms and assumptions of our consumer-driven, economics-obsessed culture.

Many of you will remember one of our visiting scholars, John Dominic Crossan, and many of you have read his work, including his latest called Resurrecting Easter, which Mark Lee is leading as one of our current adult ed. offerings.

Many years ago, I was reading his provocative book Jesus: A Revolutionary Biography, and there was a wonderfully pithy sentence about this morning’s scripture in it that I have long remembered: “Emmaus never happened; Emmaus always happens.” In other words, this story may never have occurred in the way that Luke describes. And for some of us, that invalidates the larger truth of the story, which is tragic.

Does there have to be a village called Emmaus for the story to be true? Do there need to be two disciples, one named Cleopas, for the story to be true? Does Jesus need to walk with them, explain scripture to them, and eat with them for the story to be true. No. What makes the story true is that we ourselves can experience it. We encounter the risen Christ when we act compassionately, when we extend an extravagant welcome, when we break down barriers between people, when we remember the presence of Christ living within us and among us when we come to Christ’s table for communion. How can you and I make Emmaus happen here at Plymouth in our worship, in our fellowship, and in our welcome? “Emmaus never happened; Emmaus always happens.”

I hope that for each of us, we have those moments when we have an encounter with the risen Christ, who continues to be with us. He is with us in the struggle for justice and peace, with us as we wrestle with scripture, with us in moments of deep hospitality, with us in the breaking of the bread.

“Emmaus never happened; Emmaus always happens.”
​
Amen.
 
© 2018 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint.
 

​April 15, 2018
Psalm 24: 1-7 and Job 12:7-10
The Rev. Jane Anne Ferguson

Psalm 24
1 The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it;
2 for he has founded it on the seas, and established it on the rivers.
3 Who shall ascend the hill of the LORD? And who shall stand in his holy place?
4 Those who have clean hands and pure hearts, who do not lift up their souls to what is false, and do not swear deceitfully.
5 They will receive blessing from the LORD,
and vindication from the God of their salvation.
6 Such is the company of those who seek him, who seek the face of the God of Jacob.
7 Lift up your heads, O gates!
and be lifted up, O ancient doors! that the King of glory may come in. ...
10 Who is this King of glory? The LORD of hosts,
he is the King of glory.
 
Job 12
7 "But ask the animals, and they will teach you; the birds of the air, and they will tell you;
8 ask the plants of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you.
9 Who among all these does not know
that the hand of the LORD has done this?
10 In his hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being.
 
Let’s begin today with a reminder of the place we live in.
Will you pray with me?

Holy and Creating God, we are grateful to be gathered here in the Big Thompson/Cache le Poudre watershed, which we share with a diversity of plants and creatures. We celebrate our neighbors here on the foothills and the prairies – Barn Owls and Northern Pygmy Owls, Prairie Falcons and Red-tailed Hawks, Red-winged Blackbirds, American Goldfinches, Great Blue Herons and Canada Geese, Single leaf Ash, Western Catalpa and CO Blue Spruce trees, butterflies to numerous to name, crickets, praying mantis, bees, black-footed ferrets, coyotes, fox, prairie dogs, greenback cutthroat trout, bears, soapwort, bittersweet, Indian Rice grass,  _______ (name a few species). We acknowledge that this land is the traditional territory of the Ute, Arapahoe and Cheyenne peoples with visitations from the Comanche and Apache. We celebrate our Plymouth ancestors in this valley, the industrious Russian German immigrants. May we nurture our relationship with all our ancestors, all our neighbors, and our shared responsibilities to this watershed where we gather today." Amen.

I want to acknowledge that I am well aware on this Environmental Sabbath day that here at Plymouth I am preaching to the environmental choir. Our congregation is chock-full of environmental scientists and activists. I do not have to convince the majority – maybe any – of you that climate change is real, that we are one with our environment, part of a great web of life, that we have major, perhaps dire, environmental challenges facing us. So this is not a sermon about convincing or consciousness raising. I hope this will be a sermon of inspiration and support for the journey of activism and healing of creation that we are all on together.
“The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it,” sings the psalmist. “In God’s hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being,” Job explains to his doubting friends. The question before us today is how will we live taking these faith affirmations of the psalmist and of Job to heart? Yes, we will recycle, reduce, reuse, etc....but how will we live in the deepest places of our hearts and souls? How can our faith sustain us in the struggle?

The faith confession and affirmation of our scriptures is that everything belongs to God, was created by God, is animated and sustained by the Holy Spirit of God. Perhaps, as people of faith and science, you get stymied by the image of an anthropomorphic Creator God, an image that can be easily reduced to a puppet master of the world. This is not the image of God I claim. Acknowledging the amazing laws of physics, astronomy, chemistry, biology, and geology, etc., that keep the universe in motion my image is that God is the Mystery behind all the laws, rather than an old white  guy with a beard in the sky orchestrating everything. Yet this Mystery is not aloof from creation. Mystery does not stand back and merely observe. It is intimately in relationship with the workings of the universe, infusing atoms and neutrons, cells and mitochondria. It is in dark matter, as well as stars, in hurricanes as well as life-giving showers. In the tiniest insects and the largest mammals and all shapes, sizes and species in between. In the smallest of newly planted seeds and the oldest of trees. The Mystery of God is in every human being. The created universe and all its beings are not God...but all are infused with God.
John of Damascus , a 7th and 8th century Eastern Christian theologian and patron saint of icons, wrote, “The whole earth is a living icon of the face of God." Now a religious icon from the Eastern Orthodox tradition is not a painting, it is a prayer writing. Its intent is to be an meditative opening, a window, onto the face of God through the face of a beloved saint, the Virgin Mary and Holy Child, or Jesus the Christ.  Think of this for a moment. Because creation is infused with God’s Spirit .....“The whole earth is a living icon of, [a window onto,] the face of God.” “The earth is the LORD's and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it.” “In God’s hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of every human being.”

The confessions of faith made by Job and the psalmist in our texts today can guide and inspire us spiritually as well as in our religious, environmental, and political practices. Confessing that all belongs to God leads us into God’s righteousness, God’s ways of living, and into blessings for all creation, including ourselves. Trusting that all of the universe is animated and infused with the Mystery of God we can affirm that we are One in creation with God. Being one with God we come into God’s presence as the psalmists invites with the blessings of clean hands, hearts and souls, living in the ways of truth. I believe this includes coming into God’s forgiveness as well. Forgiveness for ways we have to lived in that are not accordance with God’s love and justice. Blessed by God as clean, pure and forgiven we work for the goodness, the purity of God’s creation.

It is a circle of oneness...as we seek God and God’s ways we are empowered by the same energy of the animating Mystery that empowers the laws of the universe to find God and to work for God’s creation. We cannot do it all on our own, We can only work for God’s creation in co-creation with the power of God. This is righteousness and blessing. This is living in faith in its largest context. These are affirmations of spirituality and guiding practical principles.

Confessing our faith with the psalmist and Job informs how we live in the Body Politic, within our cities, counties, states, nations. It challenges how we live operationally in the world. Revered Hebrew scripture scholar, James May, wrote, “To whom do we think practically and operationally the world belongs? To a roster of nations? To the state? To corporations? To whoever has money to get title to pieces of it?”[1] No! Ultimately and existentially it does not belong to corporations, to individual nations, to individuals. It is not for the exclusive use of whichever generation of human beings happens to be in power. The world and all that is in it belongs to God, the Creator and the Mystery, behind and within everything.

This is the affirmation of faith that sustains our stewardship of creation and activism for environmental justice. Ask the animals of the earth, the birds of the air, the growing plants of the fields, the fish in the lakes and streams ,rivers and oceans – they will tell you. Ask the red-tailed hawks and great blue heron, the cutthroat trout, the sage brush, the blue spruce, the white-tailed deer and raccoons and coyotes that share even our urban areas with us. “In God’s hand is the life of every living thing!” And is not everything living in some manner of speaking as it is infused with the Mystery – even Horsetooth, its reservoir and its rock formations in our foothills, even the prairie soil where we grow food, even infinitesimal quarks that energize all matter and the deep energy of black holes. “In God’s hand is ... the breath of every human being.”

How will we live?

In fear of all that is happening around us? Or in faith that the empowering Mystery of God behind and within creation will lead us to healing action for the world and all that is within it?
​
            Lift up your heads, O gates
Lift up your doors, O ancient Ones
That the Compassionate One may come in!
Who is this Compassionate One?
            The Beloved, Heart of your heart,
                        Life of your life,

This is the Compassionate One.[2]
​
Amen.
 


[1] Mays, James L., Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching Psalms, (John Knox Press, Lousiville, KY, 1994, 120.)

[2] Merrill, Nan, Psalms for Praying, (Continuum Publishing, New York, NY, 1996, 41).

The Rev. Jake Miles Joseph
April 8, 2018 (Lectionary)
 
Will you pray with me? May our meditation on the idea of sacred community together, the words of my mouth, the silences we share, the music we sing, and our time together today help us all to live in unity and compassion with all your people. Amen.
 
How very good and pleasant it is
    when kindred live together in unity!
 It is like the precious oil on the head,
    running down upon the beard,
on the beard of Aaron,
    running down over the collar of his robes.
 It is like the dew of Hermon,
    which falls on the mountains of Zion.
For there the Lord ordained his blessing,
    life forevermore. -Psalm 133
 
A meditation is different from a sermon in much the same way that today’s Psalm is different from other lectionary readings of Scripture: it is shorter and more focused...purposeful. Rather than being a long, showy narrative, a meditation has the simple goal of helping us unfold a specific image, word, or idea for our spiritual wellbeing and nourishment. Today, I want us to meditate on this one sentence and to allow it to empower our living: “How very good and pleasant it is when kindred live together in unity!”
 
I want to tell you the story of one place on earth that has striven to turn Psalm 133 from a poem into reality: a place of living Biblical poetry. In the wake of one of the darkest periods of human history, The Second World War, a monk named Brother Rodger returned to a small village in France to begin a grand experiment in grace. It was the same village where he had with his sister, during the war itself, helped rescue refugee Jews and others from the grips of the Nazis and the Vichy Regime. After being found out to be part of the resistance, he was forced to flee, but after the war he was called back to that small hilltop rural setting to start something new: The Taizé Community. It is a place that I call a grand experiment in living grace. Brother Roger was raised in the Protestant tradition in Switzerland, but he had discovered his true faith in ecumenism—a word that is the living out of the idea that it is good and pleasant when kindred live together in unity. He is reported to have said when visiting with the pope that, “I have found my own identity as a Christian by reconciling within myself the faith of my origins with the mystery of the Catholic faith, without breaking fellowship with anyone.”
 
Brother Rogers’s vision started small in nothing more than a rural French farmhouse in an extremely isolated corner of the country. Believe me, the only thing within an easy distance is a small farm that sells cheese and bread to pilgrims. This small vision for a place of meditation, of welcome, of poverty, hard work, and radical grace started on the smallest of scales, but then it grew into something that has changed the face and sound of Christianity the world over. On Easter Sunday of 1949, Rodger and 9 others committed themselves to lives of mercy, hard work, and simplicity. Now over 100,000 pilgrims (mostly young adults under the age of 30) make their way to this small village in Southern France every single year. They sing simple, joyful, corporate, deep, amazing a cappella songs, work hard, and engage in meaningful Bible study and conversation with each other and the monks in what seems like 100’s of languages and traditions.
 
I was one of those pilgrims once. I took my spring break from university on the other side of France to journey on an all-day train and bus ride from Nantes through Paris and down… way down to Macon-Village and Taizé. I arrived in the middle of a March rainstorm during evening prayers. I remember standing outside the giant pilgrimage-church and hearing the chants flow through the open doorway… the flickering of candles lighting the way inside. Once inside, I was immediately surrounded by a sense of peace and welcome. “This place is your place. This is a place where all kindred live together (eve if only a week at a time) in unity!” Oh, friends, how good and pleasant it is!
 
It is like God, through the tradition of the lectionary, knew exactly what we needed on this Second Sunday in Easter in the year 2018. Even as it is now Easter, I have to admit with the news around the world and in our own community (on campus); it still feels very much like Lent—a time in need of prayer and reflection. We need this reminder both in scripture and in collective song that a better world where people live in harmony is in fact possible and promised. We too are called to begin small experiments of radical grace and mercy in our own time that sometimes looks very dark and cruel indeed. This vision of a world where all live together in unity should inspire us, yet our pessimism has gone from being occasional and short lived to chronic and epidemic. Today, as we continue on our Eastertide Journey of hope and resurrection with Christ, let the story of Taizé, its music, and its legacy give you hope. May the vision of a place where all God’s people gather in peace give us pause to look at how we are seeking to create those spaces in our lives and in this congregation.
 
We need this reminder both in scripture and in collective songs together that a better world where people live in harmony is in fact possible. That is if we believe in the promises of God. I know it because I have seen it, and I don’t mean in a dream or as a metaphor but in a real place. I have seen this vision enacted on a hilltop surrounded by cows… and this time I am not (for once) talking about Iowa.
 
Picture yourself deep in the countryside in the smallest of all imaginable towns perched on small hill: farms, barns, cows, lots of cows, sheep, goats, and all of the smells associated with them. Picture yourself on a hill in the French countryside. Picture an old church. Picture now a tall gate with a bell tower perched at its peak. This is where God’s dream is possible.
 
Now picture yourself in your own home, how can you start small to create your own communities of peace and hope? What are you doing at Plymouth or in your own life that welcomes diverse people into your space? You don’t have to be a French monk to live a life of Taizé. You simply have to be ready to experiment with mercy and take risks with grace. This is also where God’s dream is possible.
 
How very good and pleasant it is
    when kindred live together in unity!
Amen.

Mark 16.1-8 
The Rev. Hal Chorpenning, Plymouth Congregational UCC 
Fort Collins, Colorado 
Easter, April 1, 2018 

During the season of Lent, our Seekers group here at Plymouth has been studying a wonderful book by Marcus Borg and Dom Crossan called The Last Week. The authors use only Mark’s story of the week between Palm Sunday and Easter. We usually get the mix-and-match approach with a bit of Mark, a chunk of Matthew, a smidgen of Luke, and a whole lot of John. Mark’s gospel is, of course, the earliest in the New Testament, and it’s fascinating just to read this account on its own, because it is the first known literary interpretation of the story of Jesus. This is the story you’d have had at your disposal if you were, say, a Christian in Syria in the year 75.

This may be news to you, but Mark was not a Hollywood screenwriter…or even a Victorian novelist. His prose is blunt and rough, and Mark’s entire gospel abruptly ends with today’s passage…just like you heard it: “They went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” That’s it. Full stop. Signing off. End of gospel. 

In subsequent centuries, two separate editors added their own endings to the gospel, wrapping things up more tidily, manufacturing a denouement on Mark’s behalf. 

But Mark leaves us with an empty tomb and scared, silent witnesses. That’s a bit unsettling, isn’t it? It makes us uncomfortable. Having read the other gospel accounts and Paul’s experience of the risen Christ, we want a bodily resurrection, a spiritual resurrection…something! We want a conclusive ending, but that isn’t what we get. And because there is no ending to the story, we each have to imagine our own. 

John’s gospel provides the wonderful images that we often relate to: being a critical thinker like Thomas, who needs the empirical evidence yielded by poking his fingers in Jesus’ wounded hands, in order to grasp that Jesus is physically present. And the two dejected followers who are walking on the road to Emmaus, who fail to recognize Jesus as he walks alongside them, but who is made known to them in the breaking of the bread. But all Mark leaves us with is an empty tomb! 

So, what conclusion do you imagine for Mark’s gospel? What happens to the risen one? …to the women who find the empty tomb? 

The earliest biblical accounts of resurrection are actually not in the gospel accounts that we read every Easter, but rather from Paul, who wrote before Mark. Paul has a different story of what resurrection is all about because not only did he miss the Sunday of Jesus’ resurrection, he never even met the man who was a walking, talking, teaching, breathing, preaching, table-turning prophet. The only encounter he had was with the risen Christ on the road to Damascus, years after the crucifixion. He wrote to the church in Rome about 25 years after Jesus’ crucifixion saying, “Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in the newness of life.” (Rom. 6.4)
​
In what ways has the risen Christ been present to you? How are you experiencing the “newness of life?” How have you died to an old way of thinking or living only to discover new life? Have you encountered transformation in the midst of your everyday life? The story of resurrection is not over! It’s an ongoing drama; your life is the stage, and you are the actors. 

Going back to the story, did you notice what happened to the disciples – “the Twelve” – in this narrative? They’re long gone; they’ve fled. Joseph of Arimathea provides the tomb, secures Jesus’ body from Pilate, takes Jesus’ body down from the cross, wraps his body in a linen shroud, entombs Jesus, and he himself rolls the stone to seal the tomb. 

Did you notice that Mark not only fails to give Jesus any lines, he doesn’t even include Jesus in the scene? He is absent… only his empty tomb reflects its former occupant.  

Aside from Joseph – who is not a disciple, but a member of the council – it is the women who are the central characters in this narrative. It is they who demonstrate their faithfulness by staying near Jesus every step of the way. While one of the Twelve betrays Jesus, another denies him, and the rest desert him, the women stay the course. It isn’t the Palm Sunday crowd or the Twelve disciples we are meant to follow, it is Jesus and the women. 

Imagine for a moment being one of those women, what they witnessed on Good Friday. Imagine your intense grief on the following day, Saturday…the Sabbath: when you could only make plans to return to the tomb and anoint Jesus’ body with aromatic spices. This isn’t a pleasant task. If Jesus had died 36 hours earlier, you would expect some decomposition would already have taken place, hence the aromatic herbs. 

So, you gather the spices and set out for the tomb early Sunday morning. You steel yourself for the final act of devotion and honor, to anoint Jesus’ body. The sun is rising as you walk with two other women toward the tomb. And then you have an awful realization: you won’t be able to get in. The tomb is sealed with a very large stone, and you ask your companions, “Who will roll the stone away for us?” 

Let’s assume for a moment that it wasn’t a grave robber who rolled the stone away, but rather the “young man dressed in a white robe.” Is he an angel? If he’s an angel with superhuman ability, it’s no big deal to roll away stone. But Mark says nothing about him being anything other than a human. “A young man” does not necessarily an angel make. Mark uses the Greek word, neaniskos (young man), while elsewhere in the gospel, he uses the word angelos to describe a messenger of God. Mark leaves it up to us to determine who the young man was: for many of us have entertained angels unawares. And some of us have been messengers of God without even knowing it. 

What if you were approaching the tomb: who would move the stone for you? Sometimes, we need someone to help roll the stone way so that we can experience the risen Christ. And at other times we ourselves can help roll the stone away for others…rarely can we do it all on our own. Like that young man in the white robe, who contrasts the mourning all around him, we can be a voice of hope, saying, “He has been raised; he is not here.” 

You’ve probably read about some big-time stone-rollers if you’ve been around awhile: Gandhi, King, Mother Theresa, Desmond Tutu, and others. But where are the great stone-rollers of our day? Who is saying “no” to death and “yes” to abundant life? I have seen a few like The Rev. Dr. William Barber, the Disciples of Christ minister who leads Repairers of the Breach and the Poor People’s Campaign.  

But some of the mightiest stone-rollers I have seen have just walked through the Good Friday experience of a school shooting. They are young people with names like Tyra and Emma and David. They not obediently staying in the dark shadows of the tomb, but rather rolling the stone away.  

Whether the world sees us as Nobel laureates or nobodies, by virtue of our baptism and our faith, we are called to roll away the stone for each other. Each of us has the capacity to show up for our fellow humans and help create a new beginning, a new insight, even a new life. 
Will you pray with me? 

Holy One, you have showed us once more that death is never your final word. Help us to be agents of your grace and messengers of your peace, that in rolling the stone away for others, we, too, might experience resurrection. 

​Amen.

​© 2018 Hal Chorpenning, all rights reserved. Please contact [email protected] for permission to reprint, which will typically be granted for non-profit uses.