Not Here
Luke 24:1-12

April 11, 2004

I was looking at our church web site recently and noticed to my chagrin that a number of my infamously short sermon titles have a negative in them - like today, “Not Here.” Thinking positively, it may mean that I am an apophatic preacher. Apophatic is a Greek expression that describes a way of thinking about God. Since God is infinitely different from humanity, the only legitimate way we can approach describing God is in the negative, by saying what God is not. Very popular in Eastern Orthodox theology. That may not excuse the following.

A piece of rope walks into a grocery store and goes up to the customer service area and asks, “Where can I find a kilogram of hamburger?” The customer service guy is just as puzzled as you are because ropes normally don’t walk and talk. “Uh, we can’t serve you anything. You’re a piece of rope!” The rope gets all upset tearing at its hair or fibers and getting all twisted up inside itself. But this rope is not to be deterred, so it marches back into the store and asks the same question.

“Wait a minute,” says the store person, “aren’t you the same piece of rope who was just in here? “Nope, I’m a frayed kNot!”

It’s Not over. When the women went to the tomb at the dawn of the third day, they were shocked to see an angel, even a couple of angels, who reassured them, “Be not afraid!”

It has been a long time since so many people have been talking about Jesus; movies must be the media that get us to talk. Maybe some of you are here to see if the rest of the story is real.

Certainly, Mel Gibson’s The Passion of Christ is full of realism. His suffering is very real, very graphic, but does it have any meaning? Jesus suffered a terrible death, but not really any more than a million victims hacked to death in Rwanda, or a couple of million in Cambodia whose skulls were neatly stacked by Pol Pot’s executioners, or those six million gassed in Nazi shower facilities. In fact, when you have sat beside a parent who is dying slowly and painfully over a period of months or years, who suffers more? Jesus suffered greatly and innocently, but the amount of suffering is not what validates his actions or our salvation. Jesus did not suffer more than us - he suffered like us. Jesus did not save us by outsuffering us, but by loving us. That is the real meaning of the Passion, that Jesus loved mightily in the midst of hate. Like the movie, we get so overwhelmed by violence that we are convinced suffering has the last word. Not so.

The reality is that Jesus was crucified and died on the verge of the Sabbath when no work was allowed and no dead bodies were to be touched and handled. So there was a rush to get Jesus buried and with the help of Joseph of Arimathea, a member of the Jewish council, it was accomplished. The Jews do not embalm, so Jesus’ body had an extra day to putrefy. So there was a delicate urgency on the part of the women in the Jesus company to get to the tomb with spices for the body as soon as the prohibitions of the Sabbath had expired and there was enough light to see.

This was a kind of cave tomb with a big stone rolled over the entrance. No one was supposed to open the tomb, a small detail. But the stone was rolled back and the tomb was empty. It didn’t make sense. But neither did the two men standing next to them in dazzling white clothing. It hurt to look at them, and a little frightening as well. “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here. He is risen.”

Not here among the dead. Among the dead the only thing that is real is suffering, pain, and violence. Among the living what is real is a love that will not let you go. Among the dead there is no hope, only a deadly, meaningless end. Among the living hope does not die, for love and compassion create a new world that does not allow violence to have the last laugh. Among the dead there is only power that can destroy the body and subjugate the spirit. Among the living the only power that really exists is the one that heals body and soul together in freedom and dignity.

We desperately want to insist that Jesus be exactly here, right where we can touch him and control him and have him do our bidding. So much of Christianity defines exactly who Jesus is, exactly who God is, exactly what a Christian must say and do. That’s when I start getting apophatic, the way of the negative. You expect Jesus to stand beside you in your favourite social issue, that you’ve got him figured all out? Jesus is a man for all people, but owned by none. You know what God is supposed to do as a good God? That’s no God, just your wishful manipulation. You know precisely how one is supposed to behave as a Christian? You’ve designed rules that prove one type of person is better than another? Those are not Christian ethics, but rules that work to exclude people from love rather than include all in the passion of Christ.

He is not here. We prefer him here, but Jesus is always a little elsewhere. I want a Jesus who is so high I can’t get over him. I want a Jesus who is so low I can’t get under him. I want a Jesus who is so wide I can’t get around him. I want a Jesus who is so narrow I can’t get through him. I have a Jesus who while he is not here where I can pin him down, he is there when I have no hope. He is there when I suffer outrageously through the whims of nature or the inhumanity of other human beings.

He is not here. He is risen. That’s what the women ran home to tell the other disciples, and those men thought it an idle tale, so much female chatter, thought they were making it all up. Peter ran back to peek into the tomb and see the empty linen burial cloths lying there, but he didn’t seem to convince anyone. The disciples were dead certain about what was really true.

Dead certain was the young Russian soldier during the heyday of the Soviet Union. He ran into a group of people in a small village who had gathered to remember Easter. An enthusiastic Marxist, the young buck scolded them that such gatherings were not allowed. He went on praising communism, the new savior, and ridiculing Christianity, especially the absurd idea that Christ was resurrected from the dead.

When he finished and that awkward silence of a subdued people followed, the young soldier felt his chest swell with pride that he had truly educated these poor misguided peasants.

From the back of the crowd came a voice with the words from the Russian Easter liturgy, “Christ is Risen!” The rest of the crowd responded, as by reflex, “He is Risen Indeed!” They had finished the Gospel.

Many will analyze that event and declare that those peasants were hopelessly antiquated in their faith, that they were shouting in a language no longer meaningful for a modern world. Voices are chiming from every part of society, declaring like that young Marxist that our Christian faith and words are nonsense and useless. Even in the church, there are people who say we are killing the gospel by speaking such an ancient tongue.

They are right. It is nonsense. He is not here. He is risen!

Preached by Robert Kitchen
Knox-Metropolitan United Church
Regina, Saskatchewan