"JESUS IS THE LEDE TO THE STORY"

 Sermon preached by the Rev. Michael Anderson Bullock

[Acts 2:14a, 36-41; 1Peter 1:17-23; Luke  24:13-35]

That first Sunday of Resurrection must have been a perplexing swirl for the followers of Jesus.  From the accounts of the four gospel writers, there was a lot going on that day – and it would seem that it was all happening at once!  Like “Eyewitness News” reporters, the gospel accounts of that first Easter emerge in rapid-fire succession to form a collage of stories, involving various characters and their experience with Jesus’ resurrection.  Yet, as we ourselves know, storytelling always reflects the perspective of the storyteller; and this is very apparent as we move through the gospel accounts of Jesus’ post-resurrection appearances.  Varied as these experiences are, a singular narrative holds at the center: that is, “Jesus is risen from the dead”.

In the context of formal journalism, this proclamation that “Jesus is risen from the dead”, is the “lede” of the story.  It is the headline which focuses all the specific details from all of the specific sources.  And when it comes to good journalism and to good storytelling, the “golden rule” is: “don’t bury the lede”.  (As an aside and as a nod to the careful listener, I accept the pun: That journalistic rule ironically and profoundly also applies to Jesus!  In him, the lede is not buried!)  So it is that in concert with one another, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John – all four start their accounting from the early morning on that “first day of the week”.  What follows from this beginning is, as I say, a “swirl” of outstanding and unexpected events.

Relying on Luke as the first source, Mary Magdalene is the first to be reported.  Joined by her female cohorts, she came onto the scene by virtue of intending to finish the work of properly burying Jesus.  Standing just outside the empty tomb, the Magdalene is heart-sick because (adding insult to injury) Jesus’ dead body is nowhere to be found.  The tomb, inexplicably opened, is empty.

Fearing nefarious play at work, her worst fears evaporate at the tender utterance of her name.  Jesus, risen and alive, calls out to her with a knowing tenderness that completely changed her experience of the story completely.  Turning on a joyful heel, she ran (as the Risen One had instructed her to do) to tell the men of this stunningly wonderful news.

We can hear the “Eyewitness News” reporter close his live telecast from the empty tomb site with a solemn summary, “It’s not the gardener!  Stary tuned for more!”

John (for his part) has his gospel move away from the timeline that Luke’s reporting sets.  He editorially compresses the Resurrection story and its ultimate Pentecost-event into a single day – or more precisely into one evening.

Seeing Jesus’ male followers hiding in fear from their Judean enemies and gathered behind a securely locked door, the Fourth Gospel narrates that the Risen Jesus came among the disciples.  Revealing the wounds of his resurrected body, the disciples swiftly recognize (but don’t understand) that Jesus, having been crucified, dead, and buried, is now very much alive and in their midst.  Then in quick and stunning succession, the Risen One proceeded to grant the disciples their apostolic inheritance, commissioning them not only to present the Risen Christ to the world but also to share with all the gift of his forgiveness, peace, and new life.  That this compressed story gets replayed when Thomas finally shows up only amplifies what for John is the purpose and impact of the Easter event.

Our Eucharistic Prayer – the one we use during Eastertide [that is, Eucharistic Prayer IV] -- speaks directly to this this purpose and the impact of Jesus’ resurrection this way: And, that we might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and rose again for us, he sent the Holy Spirit, his own first gift for those who believe, to complete his work in the world, and to bring to fulfillment the sanctification of all.[1]

So, the reporter from the Upper Room closed his telecast with this epilogue: “And so, Creation continues.  Back to you, in the studio.”

The Easter story that forms our gospel lesson for this day tells us of the resurrection experience from another perspective with another story.  Two of Jesus’ followers were walking home from Jerusalem to the Village of Emmaus.  The news of Jesus’ rising had quickly spread among this central group, and the homebound two were trying to integrate this surprising news for themselves.

This Emmaus story belongs uniquely to Luke, where the Beloved Physician takes us into a quieter setting of Easter Day’s headlines and details.

Quite frankly for me, this story grabs my attention and my heart the most.  In it, I find myself becoming an eager and willing eavesdropper on what Cleopas and his unnamed companion are saying about their struggle over the news of Jesus’ resurrection.  For the sake of rounding off the humanity of this particular account, I join the faithful consensus that identifies Cleopas’s companion walker as his wife, Mary.  Traditionally grouped as one of the “Three Marys” in the Holy Week story, This Mary (the wife of Cleopas) is specifically mentioned as being a witness to Jesus’ crucifixion and among the cadre of faithful women who (given the opportunity) intended to bury Jesus properly.[2]  But irrespective of individual identities, the expression of “We had hoped that he was the one…” speaks to something all of us need to absorb and recognize.  Quoting the Prophet Isaiah, “My ways are not your ways, says the Lord …”

Cleopas and Mary are clearly disappointed by the news of Jesus’ death.  Confused by the swirling stories emanating from the followers of Jesus, they are dubious about the report that these colleagues in faith have seen the Lord alive.  Hence, their deep grief conveyed by their confession: “We had hoped that he was the one…” and the unspoken sentiments of their hearts: “What’s next?”  Yet, as Cleopas and Mary will soon learn, there is another way to read the story, one that surprises and upsets what they and very often what we expect.

Luke reports that Cleopas and Mary met a stranger on their route home.  Surprisingly, they openly share with this man the intimacy of what they have heard and felt about the story of Jesus and his death and resurrection.  Summarizing their own grief, they confess: “But we had hoped that he was the one…”.  We had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”[3]

The level of disappointment (not to mention what I suspect contained no small amount of anger) resounds with the pangs of death itself.  And I can resonate with this, and I know you can, too.  “Your kingdom come, your will be done…” is easy to say, easy to pray until it clashes with our expectations and our interpretation of the story we are living.  “But we had hoped he was the one …”

Historically, Israel’s story and expectation for the Messiah generally went like this.  The Messiah would liberate God’s covenanted people, freeing them finally and completely from exile.  With such freedom, the Messiah would also then restore Israel to its rightful place in the world.  As a sign of this homecoming, the Messiah would rebuild the Temple in Jerusalem, which would signify that God had returned to be with the people.  And finally, with all these pieces in place, God’s justice would be the norm of life.

This was the pattern of messianic and prophetic movements in the centuries before and after Jesus.  It tells of a clear and consistent story and expectation that focused on holiness of life and zeal for God and God’s law, fomented by military revolt.[4]  In this, we should be able to hear familiar echoes of this messianic pattern and its expectations in our own day, expressed publicly in the words and attitudes of our own national leaders.  We even have the “benefit” of being given AI-created pictures of what this expected “Messiah” looks like, along with the daily news, describing how these expectations are being enacted in our midst!

Given this common understanding and expectation – even now -- how could Jesus be the Messiah?  No true Messiah could be killed and, thereby, eliminated.  Moreover, Jesus’ life had not had liberated Israel from its foes.  Rome’s foot remained mercilessly on the people’s neck.  As to being raised from the dead, for more than two centuries it was Jewish orthodox belief that at the end of time the righteous would be raised, but not just one man – and not in the middle of history.  Besides this, the Temple had not been rebuilt, and justice was certainly still served at the end of a sword.  “We had hoped that he would be the one…”

“Silly ones,”, the stranger said, “you’re looking through the wrong end of the telescope!  You’ve got all the right pieces to the puzzle but not how they all fit together.”  And then the stranger reviewed the biblical God-story, making the point that the story was never about Israel beating up her enemies and becoming established as the high-and-mighty masters of the world.  Rather, the story was always about how the Creator God, Israel’s covenant God, would bring his saving purposes for the world to birth through the suffering and vindication of Israel, thereby overcoming fear and death.[5]  And beginning with Moses and the prophets, the stranger interpreted the scriptures, giving them a new story-line, a completed story-line: One that spoke boldly that God had done what Israel and the world could not do for themselves.  The cross was not one more example of the triumph of paganism over God’s people but was actually God’s means of defeating evil once and for all, God’s means of demonstrating God’s faithfulness and unbreakable love for all of creation.[6]

It was nearing sundown, and it was clear to Cleopas and Mary that the stranger was intending to go on into the night with no apparent accommodation plans.  So, they invited the stranger to accept their hospitality, which he did.  But at the table, expectations were once again rearranged, as curiously and surprisingly, the guest gently acted as the host.  He took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and then gave it to Cleopas and Mary.  At which point, the two recognized their guest as Jesus, risen and among them, at which point Jesus also immediately vanished from their sight.

“Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, as he opened the scriptures to us?”  Their answer came in the form of jumping up from the table and heading directly back to Jerusalem, where they could add their resurrection realizations to the experiences of the others.

In Christ’s rising, the Creator of heaven and earth tells the story we don’t expect.  Being loved like as God loves us is always a surprise.  Being given life beyond fear and death can sound too good to be true.  But, “Christ is risen.  The Lord is risen indeed” is the lede of this God-story.  Speechless and overjoyed as we rightly are at God’s revealed truth that in Christ fear and death no longer define our life, at this point all we can say is “Alleluia!  And keep asking one another to share our story about Easter, how this story is working in our lives and lives around us.  “Alleluia!”  Amen.

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[1] BCP. p.374.

[2]  John 19:25; Matthew 27:56; Mark 15:40

[3] Luke 24:21.

[4] N. T. Wright. The Challenge of Jesus. “Walking to Emmaus in a Postmodern World”, p.159.

[5] Wright. P. 161f.

[6] Wright. P. 162.