Dr. David D. Young
April 8, 2007 – Easter
Isaiah 60: 1-6
Luke 24: 1-12
"The Is So of It Ain’t So"

In a play called The Boy With A Cart, the American Playwright Christopher Fry puts these words into the mouth of one of his characters:

"What of us who have to catch up, always to catch up with the high-powered car, or with the unbalanced budget, to cope with competition. To weather the sudden thunder of the uneasy frontier? We also loom with the earth over the waterways of space. Between our birth and death we may touch understanding as a moth brushes a window with its wing."

To touch understanding is both the frustrating enigma and the joyful promise of an Easter morning. We are such fragile creatures of longing and skeptical denial – that our presence as Easter listeners is a testimony both to our fascination with the Resurrection Promise and our inner reticence and resistance to being taken in by a promise which in part of our being we suspect may never be fulfilled.

The issue this morning, as it has been throughout our Lenten journey is: "Who is Jesus, Really?"

The message of Easter seems too good to be true when we think about it logically and amidst the conflicting truth claims of all the complex voices around us. In our identity search, we have explored Jesus as initiator and seed planter, judge and exposer, challenger and prophet, pointer and teacher, connector and healer, Messiah and king.

And we remember how one day while they were "on the way" – Jesus asked his disciples – "Who do people say that I am?" And they answered, "some say John the Baptist and others Elijah and still others one of the prophets." And he asked, "But who do you say that I am?" Peter answered him, "You are the Messiah." And Jesus answered, "Blessed are you Simon Bar-Jonah."

But what if Peter were a modern theologian and scholar? The scene might have gone something like this:

"Jesus said to them, ‘But who do you say that I am?’ Simon Peter replied, ‘You are the Incarnation of eschatological hope. The theological consummation of the Suffering Servant motif.’ And Jesus replied, ‘What?’"

There is a part of us that wants to believe everything we’ve heard about Jesus – and yet, there’s another part of us (if we are really honest) that wonders if it can be true at all. What if things are after all, as they so often seem to be, and there is at the heart of the universe only a great hole through which all the sacrifices, all the loving and loyalty – all the yearning of humanity pours age after age and is lost. What if whatever we do, it all comes to the same thing – and is for not in the end. The deepest people I know neither ignore doubt nor are they immobilized by it. They explore it and admit it. Commitment is strongest when it is not without doubt, but in spite of doubt.

Out of history comes this true story of 142 years ago,

In 1865, in a small town in Wisconsin, five-year-old Max Hoffman came down with cholera. Three days later, the doctor pulled the sheets over the boy’s head and pronounced him dead.

Little Max was laid to rest in the village cemetery. That night, his mother awoke screaming: she had dreamt that her son was turning over in his coffin, trying to escape. Trembling with fear, she begged her husband to go to the cemetery immediately and raise the coffin. Mr. Hoffman did his best to calm his wife, assuring her that while her nightmare was indeed hideous, it was still just a dream. Assuaged, Mrs. Hoffman returned to bed.

But the next night, Max’s mother had the identical dream, and this time she would not be denied. Resignedly, Mr. Hoffman asked his eldest boy and a neighbor to help him exhume the corpse. They dug up the coffin, opened the lid, and incredibly, there was Max, LYING ON HIS SIDE! Though he showed no signs of life, Mr. Hoffman brought the boy back to the house so the doctor could have one last look at him.

At the Hoffman home, the physician labored to revive him. After an hour, Max/s eyelid fluttered. The doctor immediately placed heated salt bags under the boy’s arms, rubbed his lips with brandy, and watched for signs of recovery.

Recover Max did. After a week, he was out playing with his friends. And the boy who died at five lived well into his 80’s in Clinton, Iowa. For his entire life, Max Hoffman’s most treasured memento was the metal handles he had taken from his own coffin.

Friends, that story begins to get at "The Is So of It Ain’t So."

Let’s turn now to our Gospel lesson. You recall – how it was the first day of the week when the women went to the tomb. The hole at the entrance of the tomb was empty and Jesus’ body was gone. Two figures startled them and asked, "Why do you look for the living among the dead. He is not here: He is risen!" "Do you not remember he had told you this would happen." And upon remembering – they dashed back to tell the disciples. And when they did, the apostles thought it to be an idle tale. They told those half-crazed women – "it ain’t so!" But the women were the bearers of the "Is So of It Ain’t So." And hasn’t that been the dilemma of decision down through the centuries.

He is either Lord of the living and the dead or he isn’t. Yet, to go back to our opening thought, "Between our birth and death we may touch understanding as a moth brushes a window with its wing."

How is one to know for certain? I’m not exactly sure how the developing process of polaroid film works – but I know that as it is exposed to light the grey blurred film begins to produce a clearer image. You keep looking and eventually see what was there in the first place.

Could that not be what happened with the disciples? Slowly, over a period of time they learned more of who Jesus was. They began to see clearly for themselves. It did not happen all at once. As they exposed themselves to the light, slowly the truest image there ever was began to form. It was not until after the light of his resurrection that they could recognize him as Lord.

But before being "It is so" it is "It Ain’t So!"

It is so easy to go with the tired and true – the safe and known. Logic and experience tell us people don’t rise from the dead. Jesus’ enemies thought they‘d done him in for good. At first, the disciples thought it all to be an idle talk, sheer imagination – and they did not believe it.

A minister friend of mine out in Seattle, named Tony Robinson, wrote a little piece entitled, Resurrection Is a Word I Like, and I’d like to share it with you,

"Resurrection is a word I like.
In the Sunday papers there are pages of ‘Easter Bunny Specials’,
Soft, sweet, and safe. Resurrection is not safe.

On Sunday morning they thought he was safe – safe, dead and buried,
Over with, finished, done – finally.
The One who put the question,
The One who spoke the promise,
The One who said ‘follow thou me,’
The One in whom the new creation came near
Was dead and buried, safely.

Bring on the bunnies, flowers, candy, sports spectacles and
Other safe substitutes for Life.

Resurrection is a disturbing word, which says, we’re never safe
From God
From the new
From life
From love.
A disturbing, hopeful word;
Resurrection is a word I like."

Resurrection newness is what Easter is all about.

So beyond the bunnies, baskets and special meals we will have today – Easter faces us with a decision. For as we explore and struggle with the question, "Who is Jesus, Really?" - the real issue is how will we live our life in response to who he truly is?

I neglected to mention earlier – that there are two words in your bulletin that don’t go together. If you look at the announcements at the back – at the bottom are two words in a box No Lord

I’d like you some time today, either in your minds eye or literally to cross one of the words out. The two words are incompatible. And once you do – you will have your answer to Easter.

Our life’s efforts and energies either go into a hole at the heart of the universe – and everything is for not in the end – or – our life’s meaning and purpose come out of a hole – a tomb all because Christ is Lord.

In closing, hear now Easter words of the poet, Tom Lane,

"When the shouts of Hosanna are stilled
and the palms are dust on the road:
When the left-over bread becomes stale,
and wine sours in uselessness:
When the bleak cross has become silent,
and the crowds have returned home.
When the awesome tomb is found empty,
and the moving of the Spirit is felt:
Then Easter begins.
When the heart affirms
each morning,
each evening.
‘Christ the Lord is risen today!’"

The women went to the tomb and found it empty. They were told Jesus had risen. So they ran to share the good news with the disciples. But they thought it an idle tale – and did not believe them. Oh…later they did – but not at first. And friends, I’m here to tell you that’s "The Is So of It Ain’t So!"

Amen!