Nothing to It

Mark 16:1-8

Today is a big day! On the church calendar, a high holy day. For church members, a major attraction. If a stranger happened to wander into our church today, and saw all of the lilies and white and gold decorations, the fancy clothes and hats, crowds of people, and heard the stirring music, they would no doubt say: Something is happening here today!

But what? What would you say?

It’s Easter, of course. But what does that mean?

When a young boy was asked this question by his Sunday School teacher, he said, "Easter? That’s easy. That’s the day that Jesus rises from the dead, comes out of the tomb, and if he sees his shadow, we’ll have 6 more weeks of winter."

Easter is difficult to explain, let alone understand.

It’s not like Christmas. Now Christmas is easy. The Bible tells a memorable story that takes chapters to describe the full cast of colorful characters: there’s Mary and Joseph, the angel Gabriel and the whole heavenly host, there’s the innkeeper and the shepherds, Herod and the wisemen, even animals in the hay. There’s a star, and gifts, and a journey that ends in a stable, at a manger, where they behold something amazing: a baby, but not just any baby, the Christ child, God’s Son born unto us.

Everybody loves a baby. We know about babies—we’ve witnessed the birth of our children, grandchildren. We’ve held babies of neighbors, friends, and beheld the mystery of birth.

Everybody loves the story. We know well the characters in our nativity sets—the manger is as familiar to us as home.

Everybody loves the extras—we’ve added carols and cookies, the Christmas tree and presents. And who doesn’t like presents?

Everybody loves Christmas!

But, Easter is a big day! A major attraction! Nothing will simply not do. We need something to show that something is happening! And so we have created minor attractions around it; something to fill in the nothingness—there’s Easter eggs and Easter baskets, Easter bonnets and Easter bunnies hopping down the bunny trail. And there’s Easter candy galore—yesterday at the Easer Egg Hunt, we gave out over 14,000 thousand pieces of candy! And it is estimated that the number of Marshmallow peeps that will be consumed this Easter is 800,000,000!

But, in the Bible, the story only talks about an empty tomb. But, nobody likes a tomb—it reminds us of death. Nobody knows much about death; and what we do know we don’t like—most of us are admittedly afraid. Nobody likes a tomb—even if it’s empty. You can’t depict emptiness—and you certainly can’t hold it in your hands. And so we have found other Easter symbols, like lilies and flowers, butterflies and baby chicks—friendly symbols that remind us of life and won’t soil our Easter clothes or our mood on this Easter day.

Of course, the most visible symbol of the resurrection is the cross—and the bigger the better, or so it seems. I read a newspaper article about a church in Terra Haute, Indiana that constructed a nearly 50-foot tall cross, with a 35-foot crossbeam that says, "Jesus saves." Some of the neighbors were irked. One said, "It overpowers our property. . It is good to have some type of religion, as religion is good for the human soul, . . . but this is overkill." However, the Pastor of the church believes it is necessary, claiming, "I couldn’t preach a better sermon that what that cross is doing." (I guess it depends on the sermonJ )

But of all of the big ways God could have announced the salvation of the world, God chose an empty tomb, silent witnesses, and a short write-up in the Gospels. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing to it. Nothing at all. Nothing, but that God allowed God’s son to suffer and die on a cross, be buried in a tomb, and then raised him from the dead. Nothing but that Jesus allowed his body to be broken and his blood to be poured out for us and for our salvation. Nothing but that God loved the world with such great love—gracious, merciful, eternal love—greater even than death.

That’s Easter. You can’t string it with lights or dress it up with tinsel. You can’t make it into a pageant with a cute cuddly infant no crying he makes. It doesn’t move people to give presents or sing songs of Deck the Halls, or What Child is This. It doesn’t lend itself to rhyme or song or a story with charming characters that Disney could sell.

Easter—it’s really not much of a story when you come right down to it—but of course, that’s the power of it. As one theologian said, "It doesn’t have the ring of great drama. It has the ring of truth."

Today is a big day! Something is happening! Lilies and decorations, fancy clothes and hats, and stirring music. But, really, what’s all the fuss about? It’s Easter. There’s nothing to it, really.

So, then what are we to say about these things?

If we dare to peer into the empty tomb, we may find nothing; but we also find that nothing has something to say. The message of the empty tomb is just that: nothing—that is, nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Nothing—not angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation—not our nagging doubts nor our stubborn waywardness, not our deep pain nor our raw grief, not our broken heart nor our sin-sick soul, not our cancer diagnosis, no, not even our death—nothing, nothing at all will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. That’s the truth of Easter.

Years ago, I was visiting an older woman in the hospital. She was a faithful church member, and a believer. And yet, having had a heart attack, she was shaken as she contemplated her own death. She said to me, "I’ve been to church all my life. I’ve heard countless sermons, sang numerous hymns and prayed many prayers. But, right now I’m not sure about anything. Could you just tell me again what is really true, something—anything I can hold onto as I face whatever comes? That’s what I most need to hear from you now."

I told her then—and I’ll tell you now—the story of Easter. For it’s the truest thing I know. Jesus rose from the dead leaving the tomb empty. Since then, life has never been the same again. Neither has death. So then it’s true, nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

Now that’s something!

Glory, Glory, Glory be to God!