Luke 24:1-12

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking with them the spices they had prepared. They saw the stone rolled away from the entrance to the tomb, but when they went in, they did not see the body.

While they were perplexed about this, suddenly there appeared before them two men, in dazzling white. The women were terrified and they bowed their faces to the ground. But the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, he has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must suffer at the hands of sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day, rise again.” Then they remembered his words and they left the tomb and told all of this to the eleven and all the rest.

Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James who told this to the disciples. But their words seemed to them and idle tale and they didn’t believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb. Stooping and looking inside, he saw the linen cloths lying there. And he went home, amazed at what had happened.

As usual, I’ve been stewing about an Easter Sunday sermon or a few weeks now, wondering what new, different, noteworthy thing could be said about the Good News of it all, again, this year. I’ve been noodling this version of the story from Luke 24 around for days, wondering what word or turn of phrase would get my attention and be meaningful and have something to say for us. Words like “perplexed,” “dazzling white,” “terrified,” “amazed,” all have emotions and images attached to them that gave me some possibility, for sure. But, I imagine academic, exegetical, theological treatises and sermons and volumes have been written and preached and taught about all of that ad nauseam over the years. So, I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired to add to it.

And then I remembered something. If you were here last week for the 10:45 a.m. Children’s Sermon, with “The Box,” you might have noticed. Kyle Stamper had loaded “The Box” with super-heroes – Iron Man, The Hulk, Captain America, and Wolverine, to be specific. And it made a nice children’s sermon, I thought, about how Jesus is the real, surprising super hero in all of this, Lenten/Easter stuff, because he’s weak, not strong; he’s humble, not proud; he’s gentle, not mighty. In other words, Jesus’ superpowers aren’t anything comic books would consider powerful or mighty or worthwhile, in any way, really.

And as I was doing my best to share all of that with the kids during the Children’s Sermon last week, Kyle kept interrupting me and talking over me and adding his own two cents in the cutest, most profound and persistent way. He just kept saying, “but guess what…” “but guess what…” “but guess what…” (It’s much cuter when Kyle says it.)

And I decided, in some ways, there’s nothing more or less than that to Easter’s good news.

“BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.”

If you didn’t catch it the first time around, that’s how our Easter Gospel begins for today…that little three-letter word…and that’s how Easter’s Good News is always supposed to sound for us. “BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.” And guess what…

See, that little three-letter word matters, because just before what we heard this morning some horrible things had happened, right?

Jesus was betrayed. Jesus was arrested. Jesus was denied by his friends. He was whipped and crowned with thorns and spit upon and pierced and crucified and left for dead on the cross. Jesus was wrapped in linen grave clothes and buried in some stranger’s tomb. The disciples were likely in hiding, afraid for their lives. The women left him in that tomb and went home to rest on the Sabbath, because that’s what good, faithful Jewish women were supposed to do, even in their grief.

“BUT, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb.” And guess what?

This is the good news of Easter, people: “But, guess what…?” “But, guess what…?” “But, guess what…?”

There’s been another terrorist attack in Belgium. Dozens have died. Hundreds are injured. BUT… on the first day of the week…they went to the tomb. And guess what?

Our country is confused and confounded about who our next President should or should not be. It seems at least half of us are going to be disappointed, no matter which way this all goes. BUT…on the first day of the week…they went to the tomb. And guess what?

He still can’t find a job… her relationship is failing…the cancer won’t go away… … the addiction seems to be winning…they lost the baby. But, guess what…? But, guess what…? But, guess what…?

Now, don’t get me wrong. None of this is that easy. I don’t mean to minimize or simplify or pretend that the struggles of our daily lives and the fears that keep us up at night can or should be dismissed with a simple “but…” because we all know things are never that easy.

But, guess what? It’s always been that way. And that’s been faith’s story and God’s promise and humanity’s hope, since the beginning of time.

The story of Adam and Eve tells us they were banished from the garden, but guess what? God wouldn’t lock them out forever. The flood happened in the days of Noah, and all hell broke loose, but guess what? God promised never to let that happen again. The chosen ones wandered in the wilderness for a really long time, but guess what? God fed them and led them and showed them a way home. And then there was Jesus – again crucified and left for dead – but guess what? He wasn’t/he isn’t in the tomb any longer, and we don’t have to be either.

God’s good news for us at Easter is as persistent and as earnest as a child’s best intentions: “But, guess what?”

It’s not trite. It is the Truth.

In response to our darkest days, our greatest fears, our deepest misgivings, our loneliest moments, our ugliest sins, our most profound failures – and we all have them – we are invited to show up at the empty tomb and hear God say, “But, guess what…?”

Guess what…none of that is here – not the darkness any longer, not the fear, not the sins, not the failure. Guess what? It’s been obliterated, forgiven, undone, raised – as far as God’s concerned – and it doesn’t need to hold sway over your life anymore.

So let’s consider Good Friday’s cross in the light of this new day. Let’s remember or see there all the ugliness that was heaped upon God’s very own self, in Jesus. Let’s acknowledge the sadness and shame of whatever that means for each of us – and let’s acknowledge the death – literal and figurative – that it leads to for all of us. And let’s be as surprised and as amazed and as filled with joy as those women, and as Peter, and as the first disciples, too, once they finally received the news: because guess what… God always wins. Love always wins. Light and life and forgiveness and mercy and second chances always win, in Jesus Christ our Lord, crucified and risen for the sake of the world.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

John 13:1-17, 31-35

Now before the festival of the Passover, Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart from this world and go to the Father. Having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. The devil had already put it into the heart of Judas, son of Simon Iscariot, to betray him. And during supper Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, got up from the table, took off his outer robe, and tied a towel around himself. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was tied around him.

He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, ‘Lord, are you going to wash my feet?’ Jesus answered, ‘You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.’ Peter said to him, ‘You will never wash my feet.’ Jesus answered, ‘Unless I wash you, you have no share with me.’ Simon Peter said to him, ‘Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!’ Jesus said to him, ‘One who has bathed does not need to wash, except for the feet, but is entirely clean. And you are clean, though not all of you.’ For he knew who was to betray him; for this reason he said, ‘Not all of you are clean.’

After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, ‘Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord—and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants* are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.

When [Judas] had gone out, Jesus said, ‘Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, “Where I am going, you cannot come.” I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.’

As much as I’ve bemoaned the timing of Spring Break this year, because of the way it leaves us guessing about who/how to plan for all of our events and activities this Holy Week and Easter, the fact that it inspired us to change our focus for tonight is kind of cool. In case you haven’t heard, instead of celebrating First Communion with some of our youngest Cross of Gracers, like we’ve done for years as part of this worship service, tonight we’ll be focusing on the other part of what Jesus was up that night long ago, when he celebrated his last Passover before his crucifixion.

I’m talking, of course, about how he washed the feet of his disciples. And tonight, rather than simply taking off our shoes and walking around barefoot, which is usually the extent to which we pay homage to Jesus’ grand act of humility and service, we’re going to do the deed. Pastor Aaron and I are going to get our hands dirty, as it were. And you’re going to get your feet cleaned, if you choose.

And a lot has been said over the years – for generations – about what Jesus was up to in this; why he did what he did; what he meant to convey; what his disciples were – what you and I are – supposed to learn from it all.

The obvious point was his message of service and humility. That Jesus, the Son of God, came to serve, not to be served. That we, as children of God, like the Son of God, are called to serve, not to be served. That God’s kind of service looks like humility. That God’s kind of power looks like weakness. That God’s kind of service and humility and power look like death on the cross, even – for which this foot-washing stunt was just a prelude.

And I don’t mean to minimize all of that. It is foundational to who/how we are called to be as disciples of Jesus, as Christians in the world, as Partners in Mission, even, at Cross of Grace. Generous. Gracious. Humble. Servants. But I feel like we’ve heard that story before.

And I even read a blog this week about how we shouldn’t bother with the washing of feet in worship, like so many churches do, like the Pope, even, does as part of his Holy Week journey, because it cheapens the power of what Jesus was really up to that night around the table with his disciples. The assumption is that, in this day and age, we can’t accurately replicate the depth or fullness of the foot-washing Jesus offered up way back when. And there’s truth to that.

First of all, none of us is Jesus. None of us is the Son of God. None of us is rabbi, or teacher or Christ or Messiah in any of the ways that make his humble, stooping, service as surprising or compelling or instructive as it was for those who first experienced it. Secondly, none of us has feet like the ones Jesus likely washed that night. Remember, those disciples weren’t wearing wing-tips or Nike high tops or tube socks with their sandals, even. And they weren’t walking on sidewalks or paved streets, or Berber carpet, either. They were walking on and through and stepping over dust and dirt, and mud and muck, and whatever the local livestock and beasts of burden left behind, if you know what I mean. These were some feet that needed washing.

As Pastor Aaron said, last year, I think, it might be more instructive, more accurate, more relevant, comparatively, were we to wash your underwear, than to pretend it’s all that humbling to bend down and poor some water over your feet this evening.

So in thinking about all of that – and in talking about tonight’s plan with many of you the last week or so – it seems like a shift has happened in the hearts and minds of Christian people when it comes to the emotions this foot-washing stuff inspires. What I mean is, we’ve stopped focusing on Jesus and what it meant for him to humble himself as he did, and we worry more about what it means to take our shoes off in front of our pastors in the church sanctuary. To a person it seems, the anxiety or distaste about what we’ll do here has been about our feet; our modesty; our uncomfortability; our “whatever” that makes this so strange and difficult.

And maybe that’s as much Jesus’ point as anything else.

I think a lot of this is about letting ourselves…letting our soles…letting our SOULS…be seen; laid bare; touched by grace; washed with water; wiped clean; and so on.

And I think Jesus knew that before we can get about the business of getting our hands dirty for the sake of others who need it, we’re called to recognize that we need the same sort of cleansing, ourselves. Maybe this foot-washing – for the first disciples, then, and for us, still today – is as much about who’s feet are being washed as it is about who’s doing the washing.

It’s about acknowledging what stinks about us; it’s about revealing what we’d rather not; showing what we try to hide; receiving care for what we’d rather ignore or deny, maybe. It’s about accepting grace…ministry…generosity…self-lessness…forgiveness…sacrifice…and everything else that God pours out through Jesus on the cross in the days to come, for the sake of our Sin.

To put it plainly, if the disciples couldn’t let Jesus wash their feet, how in the world were they going to let him die for their sake?

It reminds me of a shoe-shiner I sat near once in the airport. His name was Moses, which is why he got my attention in the first place. That, and it was 6 o’clock in the morning and here was this elderly African-American guy at the airport drumming up business with a wide smile and a hearty laugh and an evident joy in work that would be beneath a whole lot of people – his clients, in particular, I imagine.

Anyway, one of those clients climbed up into Moses’ chair, presented the shoe-shiner with some filthy looking wing-tips, and asked, “Do you think you can do anything with these?”

“Do you think you can do anything with these?” A question with some humility, some confession, a little bit of doubt, and some measure of hope mixed in: “Do you think you can do anything with these?”

I think that’s the same kind of question with which we are called to present our feet – our soles – our SOULS – to the Messiah who would wash them clean for our sake. And we are to present ourselves tonight and in the hours ahead as we follow him to the cross, with no small amount of humility, confession, misgiving, and hope, too, that yes, much to our surprise, God, in Jesus, will do something – something holy, mighty, gracious, loving and full of forgiveness – with whatever … whatever … we put before him at the foot of God’s cross

Because God’s hope – and Jesus’ point that night so long ago – wasn’t just about cleaning feet. It was about moving his disciples to acts of love in return for the love they would receive; to return blessing for blessing; forgiveness for forgiveness; mercy for mercy; grace upon grace until all the world would come to know that Jesus Christ, this washer of feet, this suffering servant, this lamb of God, is still the King of kings; still the Lord of lords, and always hope for the sake of the world.

Amen

"But, Guess What?" - Luke 24:1-12

"Shoe-Shiners and Foot-Washers" - John 13