Running to the Tomb

Luke 24:1-12

The women – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and some others – went early in the morning. As soon as the sun’s rays broke over the horizon, they took off for the garden tomb. It was the third day since Jesus died, but they had to hurry and close the tomb the night that he died as the sun set because with sunset came the Sabbath. Now that Sabbath was over, and the light had broken, they had to complete the burial rituals.

When they arrived, they found the stone that had sealed the entrance to the cave-like tomb had been rolled away. It strikes me that they didn’t even slow down. Luke writes, “when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord Jesus.” They didn’t even think about the possible danger the removed stone signaled. When we are stressed or anxious, we lose our situational awareness…our ears tune out background noise, our eyes shut out what is in our peripheral vision, and our mind focuses on the one thing that has us anxious…it’s called tunnel vision.

We all can get tunnel vision, especially when we are focused, stressed about one thing and then something unexpected happens. Shortly after we were married, Chris and I moved into a rental house. We emptied the truck, got pizza and spent the night with my parents. The next morning, Chris went to to the high school to meet his new principal in person and I went to begin organizing the house. As I walked up to the carport door, I noticed that there was a hole in the glass, about the size of a baseball, my hand fit through the hole and I was surprised to learn that the handle was unlocked. In I walked, and as I stood in there between the kitchen and the breakfast room, I can remember reality beginning to take form in my thoughts as I wondered about all these open, dumped boxes…we had been robbed. The next thing I did was begin to walk through the house to take stock…until suddenly I realized, someone could still be there. Focused, anxious, shocked, I did not slow down to calculate the risk I might be taking.

When the women arrive and the stone is rolled away, they are so focused on wrapping Jesus’ body with the spices, so anxious to complete their task, so shocked at the open entrance, that they find themselves standing in the tomb looking around and then all of a sudden they realize that they are NOT alone and they fall down, faces to the ground, as two men in white clothing stand before them and ask, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen!”

All of a sudden, the women remember Jesus’ words, how he had said that “The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.” And they go back and tell the disciples who – the nice translation says “don’t believe them.” A more accurate translation would be had if we used the word our British tour guide in New York City taught the high school kids to say, “Pants! That’s pants! Absolute rubbish!” The Greek makes it clear that it isn’t just that the disciples don’t believe them, the disciples think they are talking complete nonsense.

Except Peter, who takes off running. Peter, who – the first time Jesus shared with his disciples that when they got to Jerusalem, he would be arrested and killed and on the third day rise to new life – declared “Never Lord! This shall never happen to you!” Only to be rebuked by Jesus, “Get behind me. Don’t tempt me like Satan. Don’t get in my way.”

Peter, who – on the night of Jesus’ arrest, in the Garden of Gethsemane – met the crowd armed with swords and clubs who had come for Jesus with his own sword drawn and cut off the right ear of the high priest’s servant – and Jesus commanded him, “Put your sword away! Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?”

Peter who proclaimed he would lay down his life for Jesus and then denied he knew him, not once, but 3 times before the rooster crowed on the night Jesus was arrested. Peter, who was not there when Jesus died.

Peter ran to the tomb.

I just imagine Peter’s thoughts were racing as fast as his feet: “Could it really be?” Notice how Peter’s doubt and denial are overwhelmed by his hope. Peter runs with hope on his heels.

I expect we can all imagine how Peter felt when that rooster crowed, because we’ve done it. We’ve held our tongue, seen or heard something that wasn’t right and not intervened or corrected it, and then regretted it. We’ve let things slide…and known that our silence amounted to condoning the words or behaviors we didn’t confront. We’ve doubted God’s power to really transform our world – I mean, look at the problems in our world! We are so messed up! And yet, Peter ran to the tomb.

Can you imagine how Peter felt? No fear. No shame. After all that he has done, Peter runs toward, not away. And shows us that we can, too.

Here’s the thing though…a lot of us gathered here today are thinking. Nice Easter message. Nothing is changing tomorrow. We will go home this afternoon and at some point it will be reality again – time to move over the laundry, empty the dishwasher, mow the grass, get ready for tomorrow. We are habituated, accustomed to a certain rhythm of life.

Remember Brooks, from The Shawshank Redemption, the prison librarian who has been behind bars for 50 years? It seems to me that we have a choice in life to either be like Brooks or like Peter. Brooks is habituated to life behind bars. When he is paroled, and he panics. He does not know what to do outside of the walls of the prison. He knows the oppression he will face there, and the injustice and oppression, the disappointment and divisiveness, the loneliness and the fear. But it is what he knows. Another prisoner, Red explains it, “This is all he knows…These walls are funny. First you hate ‘em, and then you get used to ‘em. Enough time passes, it gets so you depend on ‘em.”

Sometimes, when the news that the tomb is empty reaches us, we respond more like Brooks than Peter. Pants! Rubbish! We have gotten used to things the way they are. We might come to church for Easter, but nothing is really going to change.

What if we followed Peter, though? What if we let hope kick up our heels? What if, like Peter, we gaze inside the tomb and see that it is filled with light, the graveclothes are left behind, and we marvel at what has happened?

What if, we live not like Brooks, in the certainty of prison days that file one after another without surprise or joy, but like Peter, marveling, amazed at the love of God that broke the bonds of death itself? What if we live in wonder, open to how the God of resurrection truly can change the world…and us.
What if we take off running…and find the tomb empty?