Easter's Fear

Matthew 28:1-10

After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. Suddenly, there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightening and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.

But the angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid. I know you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where they lay him, then go and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead and is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him,’ this is my message for you.”

So the women left the tomb quickly, with fear and great joy. Suddenly, Jesus met them on the road and said, “Greetings!” They came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid. Get up and go tell my brothers that I am going ahead of them to Galilee. There they will see me.”

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Apparently, our fear matters to God. Maybe you’ve seen or heard about the notion that phrases like “Fear not” and “Do not be afraid” appear exactly 365 times in the Bible – once for every day of the year. That’s just cute enough to make me suspicious of it, but I’ve never actually counted, so don’t really know – or care – how true it may actually be.

But True things aren’t always cute and Matthew’s Gospel got me thinking differently this time around. Because, the more I spun this Easter Gospel around in my mind, the more I just kept hearing about the fear that seemed to be so much a part of what happened that first resurrection day, according to Matthew’s version of the story, anyway.

What I mean is, this all took place in relative darkness, remember, just as day was dawning. And, as Matthew tells it, an angel showed up in a flash of lightning. The earth quaked. The guards at the tomb shook and then froze with fear. The women, both of those Marys, must have looked terrified because they’re told two times not to be afraid – once by that angel (who I’ve come to imagine as a First Century Mr. Clean, all shiny and white, crispy and clean), and once again by Jesus (who, I imagine, looked and smelled just exactly the opposite, after his murder and a couple long days in the grave).

Who wouldn’t have been afraid in the middle of all that?

But when I hear a lot of Christian people preach and teach or talk and post things about “fear” as it relates to faith… God… Jesus… and days like today, the “fear” too many of them are trying to protect me and you and others from isn’t the same as what I hear from Jesus.

For instance, I saw this little ditty in my Facebook feed just this week:

If you end up in a burning hell for all eternity, it won't be because you have a tattoo, or because you have a nose ring, or because you drank beer, did drugs or smoke cigarettes, or because you spent time in prison.

It won't be because you didn't do enough good deeds. It won't be because you didn't belong to the right church. It won't be because of that dumb thing you did that you don't want anybody to know about.

It won't be because of what anyone else did to you.

It will be because you refused to receive Jesus Christ (God the Son) as your personal Lord and Savior!

HE has already paid for all the stupid and crazy things you have done and all the stupid things you are going to do when HE died FOR YOU on the cross and rose again!

HE offers salvation as a FREE GIFT because, let's face it, if it was up to us to earn it, we would have no chance.

The gift of salvation is there for you to receive. The DECISION is TOTALLY UP TO YOU. The price for your sins has been paid, the way to heaven for you has been made.

Know this - Not making a decision IS making a decision.

[And this is how you know it must be true.] Copied and pasted. You should too.

It’s very well-intended. And I understand what is trying to be shared – the idea that the love of God doesn’t have anything to do with tattoos, nose rings, good deeds or religious affiliation. But the premise of it all is as impossible as it is hypocritical: that our eternal salvation is a.) “personal,” and b.) that it depends on a decision we were just told we are incapable of making. It’s theology my dad would say is a mile wild and an inch deep. And what makes me really afraid, is my suspicion that it’s being preached in more churches than not out there this morning.

Because, I say, don’t come at me with the threat and potential of ‘burning in hell for all eternity’ and follow it up with words of grace and the promise of a free gift, ONLY IF I’m smart or strong or faithful enough to make a right choice. One of these things is not like the other. You can’t have it both ways. This is religious fear-mongering. It is theological whiplash. It is a lie. And it’s nothing like what Jesus ever says or does – especially not on that first Easter morning.

The point of today – the message of Good Friday’s cross and of Easter’s empty tomb – is precisely that we are not up to this challenge, you and I. We can’t muster this kind of faith. We are terrible at choosing wisely or faithfully, all of the time. And because of that, God, in Jesus, made a choice on our behalf. God chose the HELL of suffering and death that was Jesus’ crucifixion so that we could see the depth – not of HELL, but the depth of God’s love for us. God made the decision that finds us here today, because humanity has proven incapable of it again and again and again.

So, this morning, when Jesus tells the women not to be afraid, I imagine some of it had to do with the earthquake and the glowing angel and their presumption that they were seeing a ghost. But I wondered, too, this time around, if what he really wanted them to not be afraid of was life as they would come to know it, now that they had encountered LIFE, instead of DEATH, on the other side of the empty tomb.

In other words, as I like to say it, Jesus wasn’t ever trying to scare them away from Hell. He was always … only … trying to love them into Heaven.

Jesus isn’t trying to scare us away from Hell. He’s always … only … trying to love us into Heaven.

And our response to life on the other side of that kind of grace can be scary sometimes. So, I hear Jesus saying to the Marys today:

Do not be afraid, but things are about to get real…

Do not be afraid, but things are about to change for you…

Do not be afraid, but everything is different from now on, for you … and me … and us … and the world … now that THIS has actually happened.

Do not be afraid, but you might find yourself doing things and saying things and going places you never thought you’d do or say or go, before.

Do not be afraid, but go and love those people who did that to me on Friday, that’s the only way they’re ever going to believe it.

Do not be afraid, but go and forgive Peter – and “my brothers” – for denying and deserting and doubting me.

Do not be afraid, but go and do justice and love kindness and walk humbly in a way that should have even more meaning for you now.

Do not be afraid, but go and forgive your enemies and love your neighbors and feed the hungry and comfort the lonely and set the captives free.

Do not be afraid, but go and remind everyone – again and again and again, if you have to – that you women were the first to hear this Gospel good news. It’s your story to tell, just as much as it is theirs.

Do not be afraid, but go and beat your swords into plowshares and your spears into pruning hooks and your weapons of war – no matter what you call them or how much you love them – into garden tools and instruments of peace, instead.

Do not be afraid, but let your light shine into the darkness of racism and through the shadows of homophobia and more brightly than oppressive systems wherever you find them until equity and justice and fairness rule the day.

Do not be afraid to work for a purpose, not a paycheck. Do not be afraid to be more generous than seems reasonable. Do not be afraid to be who and how God created you to be.

Do not be afraid to rest when necessary, to say “no” when you must, to ask for help when you need it, to grieve deeply, to hope desperately, to trust that God’s got this … and that God’s got you … especially in those moments of darkness, just before dawn, when you’re not sure that could possibly be true.

Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid. Do not be afraid.

Everything is different on the other side of Easter’s empty tomb. And as unsettling and as scary as that may be, God’s good news is that the only things “banished to Hell’s eternity” are the sin and shame and death and fear that breed there but that should not… cannot… will not… keep us from living most fully into God’s grace-filled, justice-laden, hope-infused, peace-ful new life, that’s promised to and meant for all people, on this side of Heaven and beyond.

Amen. Alleluia. Happy Easter.

Little Piggies

John 13:1-17, 31-34

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 decided that Judas son of Simon Iscariot would betray Jesus. 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 supper, 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 reclined again, 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, slaves 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,[a] 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.”

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For the last seven weeks, Katelyn and I have gawked over Clive: from his chubby little cheeks, his ever moving hands, his blue (hopefully turning brown) eyes, to the slow growing hair on his head. But there is nothing we have gawked at more than his feet. Not a day goes by when both of us, likely multiple times throughout the day, gleefully squeal, “look at those piggies”! And if you’ve ever spent time around a newborn, I think this is normal behavior. Or maybe we’re just crazy because we really think his little feet are so cute and small and soft! Nearly every night, we wash those feet, taking them gently in our hands, cleaning them with soap, drying them off, and rubbing them with lotion.

It’s one thing to wash or touch a baby’s feet, but as adults, that becomes a little more awkward. There's not quite the excitement or joy around adult feet as there is for a newborn. When I wear birkenstocks, no one comes up to me gleefully squealing “look at those piggies!” And for good reasons! Both parties would be embarrassed, I presume. And my feet aren’t like Clive’s; they aren’t soft or small, and I couldn’t tell you the last time lotion touched them, if ever. As adults, our feet become hard, calloused, and cracked; they might be discolored by disease; gnarled from years of ill-fitting footwear; and surely they’re smelly at the end of the day. From heel to toe, we feel there is much to be embarrassed about. So, unless you get a pedicure often, we keep our little piggies hidden, covered, and under no circumstances, perhaps other than tonight, do we let people touch them.

Why then, may we wonder, does Jesus wash the feet of his disciples and even worse tell us to wash one another’s feet?!

If you think feet are filthy now, they were likely worse in the time of Jesus: walking, nearly everywhere, in sandals on sandy roads and rocky ground. Feet were the dirtiest, dusty part of one’s body. As a sign of hospitality, a host would leave water near the door for guests to wash their feet off. Often a slave would do it. On a more rare occasion, a student would wash the feet of their teacher. But on Jesus’ last night with his disciples, he flips the script, humbles, or more like humiliates, himself and washes the dirty, dusty, smelly feet of each disciple.

But what does this act mean, both for the disciples and for us? What makes it so important? Is Jesus simply calling us to wash feet because they're dirty and smelly? Or is there something more going on here?

Peter, both horrified that Jesus would take the position of a slave and likely embarrassed that Jesus would see and touch his feet, replied how I imagine many of you did when you heard this was a foot washing service, “you’ll never wash my feet”. Yet, when Jesus says “if I don’t do this, you won’t be a part of what I’m doing,” Peter takes the washing with astounding literalism asking Jesus to wash his whole body. Yet it’s not about the feet or the washing.… It’s about love and what Jesus is about to do for the disciples and for us on the cross.

In washing their feet, Jesus is saying to everyone, (to you) give me the dirtiest, dustiest part of yourself and I’ll make it clean. Reveal the part of you that's broken and bruised, hurting and aching and I’ll heal you. Show me the part of yourself that you keep covered, that you don’t want anyone else to see and I promise I will still love you.

We all have that part of us, that memory, that trauma, that hidden secret, that we don’t want others to know or see or embrace. But that’s the part that Jesus wants to hold, to bear, to cleanse. And that’s exactly what Jesus does on the cross. He willingly takes from us all our sin, our shame, our guilt, and we are made entirely clean.

And because we have been washed, because we have seen and felt the example of Christ and his love, we can be foot washers, too. By this, Jesus isn’t calling us to be pedicurists in a literal sense, nor to be killed on a cross, of course. Rather, he is inviting us to love and be loved, which looks and feels a whole lot like washing feet: because it means dealing with the dirt in other’s lives and in your own. It means holding the brokenness and burdens of your neighbor while they carry yours, too. It means revealing the hard, calloused, and cracked parts of your life that you would rather remain covered. And doing all of this for a person or people whom you can’t stand or who may have even hurt you. Notice Judas was at the table that night and his feet got washed, too.

So tonight you are invited to get your feet washed, not because they need bathed (though they may), but so that we remember and experience, if ever so slightly, the humbly, cleansing love of Christ shown on the cross. Will it be awkward or embarrassing; it might. Will it be intimate, most likely. But so is loving your neighbor. Which is exactly what we disciples are called to do. Amen.