Missing Out on the
Experience
I have an aunt and uncle who are diehard Kentucky basketball fans. They don’t just watch the games. They read every scrap of news and rumor that they can find. But there is a tragic affliction in their fandom. The pain of losing is so great for them, that they cannot bear to watch any of the games live. What they do instead is record the game, check the score afterward, and then watch the game only if Kentucky wins.
It's a little bit like watching a movie only after you’ve read the spoilers. I have a friend who does this. She insists on reading detailed summaries of a movie’s plot before she agrees to watch it, because she wants to be prepared for unexpected tragedies.
But I wonder. Is something lost in the experience if you already know what will happen? I wonder if my aunt and uncle shout at the players on the television screen, if they argue with the officials’ bad calls, if they bite their nails in the final few minutes. I wonder if my friend jumps out of her seat when danger leaps out of nowhere, if she tears up at unexpected departures, if she breathes a sigh of relief at a happy end.
And I guess I wonder the same thing about us at Easter. We think we already know the story. Could it be, then, that we are missing out on the full experience?
Because it seems to me that everything in the Easter story hinges on experience rather than knowledge. It seems to me that Easter is not about some objective event that we either believe happened or didn’t happen, but about a transformative encounter. Have you ever noticed that the gospels never show us the moment that Jesus himself rises up in the tomb? If Easter were all about that decisive historical moment, then surely the gospel writers would have told us about it. But instead they leave that moment blank and show us what happens afterward. They show us the disciples’ encounters with the risen Jesus. In their estimation, those are the decisive moments. What matters most is the disciples’ experience of the risen Jesus.
If we count ourselves as disciples, then surely that is what matters most for us too. If the Easter story is only something we know about, and not something that we ourselves experience, then we may be missing out on the fullness of the good news.
Jesus Is Risen, But
No One Can See It
To experience Easter and the fullness of the good news, we must begin with the crucifixion. It’s not a scene that anyone of us would ever wish to watch in a movie, but it is a fundamental experience for Jesus and his disciples. And it is no different for us who also live in a world filled with violence, injustice, and terrible suffering, a world of lynching trees, concentration camps, war, ghettos, astounding inequality, disease, hunger—the list goes on. It is no accident that every piece of ancient art depicting the resurrected Christ is sure to show him with a cross nearby and often with visible wounds in his feet and hands. We are never allowed to forget that the resurrected Christ is always also the crucified Christ.
So the experience of Easter begins with the experience of the crucifixion, which casts a dark shadow on the world. Now, everything that follows hinges on the disciples. Christ is risen, yes, but if they do not recognize the risen Jesus, then the resurrection will have meant nothing. In John’s gospel, we first arrive at the tomb with Mary Magdalene and then Peter and another disciple. John tells us that it is “still dark” (20:1), meaning not only that it is literally dark but also that the disciples live in the shadow of the crucifixion. Jesus is in fact already risen, but in the darkness of the terrible crucifixion no one can see it.
Mary sees the stone removed from the tomb, but she doesn’t even peer in to see what’s happened. She assumes the worst, that the body has been stolen (20:2). Peter and the other disciple do peer into the tomb, but they also do not understand (20:9). Like Mary, they live in fear and uncertainty. Again, Jesus is already risen, but in the midst of doubt and fear no one can see it.
After Peter and his companion leave, perhaps to retreat to behind closed doors where they feel safer, Mary stays at the tomb and weeps. Soon Jesus is standing right in front of her. There is no doubt for the audience. Jesus is risen. But in the blurry vision of grief, no one can see it. Not even when he is standing right in front of them.
I don’t think all of these failures to understand or see the risen Jesus are meant as a critique of the disciples. If anything, I think these failures are meant as good news for us. Because it is a fundamental human experience to live in darkness, to live in doubt and uncertainty, to live shrouded in grief. The crucifixion is real. Its scars are all over our world. It cannot be escaped. The good news of Easter is not that we will live happily ever after, and never doubt or be sad or worry again. The good news of Easter is that even when we do find ourselves in darkness or doubt or grief, God’s love is alive and afoot in our world. It may even be staring us right in the face, calling our name.
The Surprise of
Easter: Resurrection Now!
That is much better news than the conventional message that I have often heard at Easter. The message that I hear regularly at Easter is pretty simple. We know Christ has risen; therefore we believe in Christ as the son of God; and therefore we too will be raised up at the end and will live forever in heaven.
But that is not the good news of Easter. It may be true, and it may be good, but it is not news. Many of the Jews, specifically the Pharisees, already believed that there would be a universal resurrection at the end of time (cf. Dan 12:2). Remember what Martha says when her brother Lazarus dies? “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” (John 11:24). Like many of her Jewish brothers and sisters, Martha already believes in a resurrection, when God’s kingdom will come and justice will be done and the faithful will live forever in paradise. The good news of Easter is not what Martha and her Jewish brothers and sisters already believe.
The surprise of Easter—its real good news—is that resurrection is now, in the midst of time, rather than later, at the end of time. This is why Paul declares that Jesus is the “first fruits” (1 Cor 15:20). His resurrection is not just a singular, heroic ascension, like when God took Enoch and Elijah to be with him in heaven. It is part of something larger happening right now. It signals a universal harvest. It marks the beginning of God’s justice and restoration now. It is the commencement of a new creation.
All through Lent, we have been extinguishing candles as we have let go of unhealthy thoughts that distort life and our true identity. When we die to these thoughts, we do not lose ourselves. Rather, we find our true selves in Christ. We are, as Paul says, “a new creation.” I am struck by how often Paul makes the contrast between our old lives and our new lives. It is a beautiful portrait, I think, of the resurrection unfolding right now in us. It is a glimpse of God’s love raising us up and drawing us into a new world right now.
A World of Difference
I have included in your bulletin insert the picture of a sixth-century fresco found in a church in Italy. You’ll notice the cross above Jesus, reminding us that the resurrected Christ is the crucified Christ. But what I also want to point out is the vibrant and lush life that surrounds Christ. It is an earthly paradise of sheep, shrubs, doves, calm waters, and starry skies. The message is clear, and it is one that we see again and again in the ancient art of our faith. Christ is alive, and all the world in him. (Or as Ambrose, the fourth-century bishop of Milan, puts it: “In Christ, the world arose.”) Paradise is not confined to some heavenly afterlife. It is now, for us who trust and follow in the way of Christ, a way of crucifixion and resurrection.
Sure, we can also believe in an afterlife of happiness. But that is nothing new. What is news this Easter is that the resurrection is already here. God’s love is alive and not in vain, even when it has been crucified, even when we dwell in darkness, doubt, or despair and cannot see it. In fact, it is precisely at these moments that God’s love may be staring at us in the face. How we respond…well, it makes a world of difference.
Prayer
Whose love is crucified in our world
And all the more alive—
Help us to take heart
In the experience of the first disciples,
To trust that moments of darkness, doubt, and despair
Do not define our lives
But may be the very scenes
In which we encounter
Your life-giving, life-transforming love.
In Christ, crucified and risen: Amen.
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