An Idle Tale

Luke 24:1-12

Easter Sunday, 2019

An idle tale, told by fools; sound and fury signifying nothing?

And that’s what their closest friends thought; that’s what his closest friends thought.

Not an auspicious beginning for changing the world.

But, then again, world changing never sounds promising when it’s first proposed.

As it’s been said of such proposals to engage ambitious efforts to change the world, “first they ignore you, then they laugh at you, then they fight you, and then you win.”

It was true of Cady Stanton when she set out for Seneca Falls. It was true of Gandhi when he set out to march to the sea. It was true of King when he set out to march from Selma to Montgomery. It was true of Mandela when he set out to go from a prison cell to the president’s mansion.

On that first Easter morning, when the women returned from the empty tomb and told what they had seen, well, first they were ignored, and then they were laughed at.

It’s not difficult to imagine that, even when Peter and the other disciples became convinced of the truth of the women’s witness, most everyone else around continued to scoff at the whole small band of disciples. And when a few others joined them, and then, after that, a few more still, history tells us that they were resisted, abused, and kept in their place by the powers that be.

Nevertheless, they persisted.

On that first Easter, they began to witness to the reality that another world is possible because they had seen their own expectations turned upside down over and over again. They had seen the lame walk, the blind regain their sight, and the poor rejoicing at good news. They had seen sinners forgiven. They had seen the tables turned. They had seen life emerge where death once reigned.

Another world emerging, right before their eyes – why not tell this story to the world!

Well, to begin with, it is a foolish tale. Everybody knows that the way things are is the way things shall remain. The rich will get richer and the poor will get ignored. The powerful will remain enthroned and entrenched no matter which way the wind blows; the weak will inherit crumbs and the meek will inherit the whirlwind.

The dead and buried will remain that way, and nobody will listen to the testimony of women.

Everybody knows.

If there was a soundtrack to this morning’s story it would be Leonard Cohen, and it would be dark. Indeed, any soundtrack to our particular time in history would have to be dark, because it surely feels all too often that those things that everybody knows are, in fact, the simple truth.

Everybody knows that the rich get richer, and, heck, just to ensure that we’ll enact tax policies to reinforce it.

Everybody knows that the powerful will remain enthroned and entrenched, and, just to make sure, we’ll make it harder for people to vote, and we’ll bury evidence of the lies and misdeeds of the powerful beneath piles of propaganda and pages of redactions.

Everybody knows that the weak get crumbs, so we’ll systematically destroy the public safety net and bow down to the great god of the market whose invisible hand seems always to be empty when it comes to taking care of the poor, the sick, the elderly, and the most vulnerable members of our society.

Everybody knows that the meek inherit the whirlwind, so we’ll ignore all evidence of climate change and hope for the best as the storms rage and the waters rise around us hurting first and foremost the world’s poor.

Meanwhile, if powerful men have powerful friends it doesn’t matter what kinds of abusive behaviors they engage in because, everybody knows that nobody will listen to the testimony of women.

Everybody knows.

If I told you that another world is possible, it would sound like an idle tale, told by a fool, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.

Nevertheless.

Friends, another world is possible.

More than that, another world is inevitable.

Right now, in our very midst, another world is being born and born again.

There is actually nothing at all unusual about this. In fact, it is simply the way of the world.

I spent a little time in the garden this week, and a little more time with Mark Schnarr – and Mark Medrick and Cheryl Lederle – creating this “garden” for today. Some of these plants sprang up from single seeds that we planted during worship a month or so ago.

There was some soil, then there was a single seed. There was a bit of water. There was light – and it was good.

And now, where once was no thing, there is something, where once there was just some empty soil, soon there will be food.

The old world has not disappeared, but a new one is rising up from the soil.

The New Testament word we translate as “resurrection” simply means “rise.” Every morning we rise up. There is resurrection all around us.

The question is not, will resurrection happen again, for it does happen over and over and over again. The question always is “what for?” To personalize that: what will we rise up for? What will you rise up for? What will I rise up for?

You see, resurrection is not an idle tale. Telling it again this Easter Sunday may not feel like an auspicious beginning for changing the world. But changing the world is what we are about.

Don’t tell me that it’s impossible because I know it is inevitable. The first time I preached here on an Easter Sunday, back on April 11, 2004, Facebook was two months old, G-mail was 10 days old, and Mayor Gavin Newsome had just directed the city of San Francisco to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples.

Meanwhile, I seriously doubt that anyone now in this room had ever heard of Facebook or G-mail, and the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) was still seven years away from ordaining gay and lesbian pastors, and a decade away from sanctioning same-sex marriages even though our session had recently drafted its first overture on ordination and was preparing to send me and Travis to Richmond to advocate for it.

Offering an advocacy statement for such a change in 2004 might well have seemed like telling an idle tale. Such a change was inconceivable to the vast majority of the church. We were laughed at and scorned.

But we were rising. Again and again and again, to tell a story of the new thing God was doing in our midst, and to witness to the same old thing God has always been doing: bringing new life where people expect to find nothing but death and decay.

What are you going to rise up for?

Friends, we are witness to the reality that another world is possible because we have seen our own expectations turned upside down over and over again. We have seen the lame walk, the blind gain new sight, and the poor rejoicing at good news. We have seen sinners forgiven. We have seen the tables turned. We have seen life emerge where death once reigned.

Another world is emerging, right before our eyes – why not tell this story to the world!

Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed! Hallelujah! Amen.