Easter Sunday 2025
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© The Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 24:1-12
But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.
The cartoon is one frame. It shows the open doors of a fine-looking church, with lots and lots of people spilling out onto the sunny sidewalk. On the church’s sign board, it reads: “Happy Easter! Christ is Risen!” A man is shaking the pastor’s hand, while his rather mortified wife looks on. And the caption reads: “Nice sermon, pastor! But I have to tell you… every time I come to church, you’re always preaching about the same thing!”
That cartoon is a gentle jab at those folks who are not regular church-goers, except on this day. And so, if you’re one of those people I haven’t seen since this time last year, let me say two things: First of all, I am really glad to see you again. And second, don’t get your hopes up about the sermon topic!
Because it is always the same. And that is part of what makes an Easter sermon such a challenge. And then there’s the additional pressure of knowing that this might be my only shot at you until next year. And I only have about 15 minutes to say something meaningful about the cornerstone of the Christian faith.
So, there’s a lot of pressure on this day. But there is also another pressure, often left unsaid. And it’s simply this: I know… that you know… that this story is unbelievable. Resurrection is the doctrine that dares not speak its name. And so, we laden this day with beautiful music and banks of flowers and elaborate metaphors to make this claim more palatable: that Jesus Christ, executed by the Empire and laid in a borrowed tomb, was raised from death by the power of God, and is alive forevermore.
Unbelievable, right? But thus, it has ever been. Even on that first Easter Sunday, the very people who knew Jesus best, who heard his speak of his coming Resurrection, found the whole idea absurd.
Luke tells us that when Jesus’s closest friends first heard reports of Resurrection, they dismissed it as “an idle tale” – a phrase that can also be translated as “empty talk,” “a silly story,” “a foolish yarn,” “utter nonsense,” “sheer humbug.”
Well, what else were they to think? It was completely outside their experience of life and the world. And besides all that, the messengers themselves were suspect and not to be believed as a matter of principle.
I’m talking, of course, about the women. Some Gospels have one, two, or three at the empty tomb, but Luke has at least five: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other unnamed women (plural). And that detail about a group of women is absolutely consistent with Luke’s emphasis on the least, the last, and the lost.
Because that’s who these women were by virtue of their sex: least, last, lost. So diminished was their place in society that historians tell us that in the time of Jesus, a woman’s testimony was not even admissible in court. And the Mishna, part of the oral tradition of ancient Judaism, states: “From women let not evidence be accepted because of the levity and temerity of their sex.” Women weren’t believed then. Often they’re not believed now. And yet it was to women that the message of Resurrection was entrusted.
Well, these not-to-be-believed women went to find the men to tell them what they had seen and heard at the tomb. And I imagine that if I had that kind of news, it would spill out of me in a great gush of words: details about a boulder that had been mysteriously rolled away and a missing corpse and two men who wore glow-in-the-dark clothes, and a question that still haunts us 2000 years later: “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?
Now, I think that these women actually expected to be believed. After all, they were part of the band of disciples. They too had walked and talked with Jesus. Some of these women had even contributed to the ministry of Jesus out of their own resources. So, surely these men would listen. Or at least be kind – with an arm around a shoulder or a quiet nod of solidarity.
But instead of rising to the moment, well, boys will be boys! And these men fell back on old ideas, old prejudices. They dismissed their sisters in Christ as the unreliable witnesses that everyone said they were. One disciple rolled his eyes. Another stifled a giggle. And they were all in agreement that, as Luke says, “…these words seemed to them “an idle tale,” “empty talk,” “a silly story,” “a foolish yarn,” “utter nonsense,” “sheer humbug.” And then Luke reports this devastating conclusion: “they did not believe them.”
Do we?
And yet, here we are, in a church, on Easter Sunday. And here I stand, trying to make sense of it all, and make is easily digestible. Here I stand, thinking that my job today is to explain the Resurrection to you and somehow convince you to believe it. No wonder preachers sweat bullets on Easter!
But this past week, as those old thoughts once again crowded my mind, a new thought pushed its way in. And I wondered: what if all this Easter pressure I feel is actually far more about me and my expectations than it is about you? What if most folks don’t come to church on Easter wanting me to explain anything. Maybe, instead, they come to church wanting me to proclaim that thing they cling to, but don’t always have the words for.
Because we have all lived this story. We all know how to take a trip to the graveyard. Those we love die. We get sick and die. Our fortunes falter. Our children leave. The Republic totters. Creation groans. Sometimes, it seems like this old world will pull apart. And yet, we cling.
There was a woman in my church in Manhattan who was as plain-spoken as they come. She was a New England transplant, by the way. From Connecticut! On the surface, she sometimes seemed as if she didn’t believe much that could not be rationally explained. But over the years, as I got to know her, I discovered her deep and intelligent faith. And every now and again, she would actually speak the word of the Lord to me.
One year, about this time, we were discussing Easter preparations at church, when she quipped: “The Resurrection is just a miracle.” Puzzled, and a bit shocked by her comment, I asked her to say more. She looked at me as if I were rather dim and then said: “James, it doesn’t really take much to believe in a miracle. It’s believing the truth that’s underneath the miracle that matters.”
Believing the truth that’s underneath the miracle. Or as the great German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, put it: “Christ did not come into this world so that we might understand him, but that we might cling to him in order to be caught up in the immense event of Resurrection.”
And THAT is why many of us are here today - to be caught up in the immense event of Resurrection - the unbelievable, audacious, ridiculous, and glorious idea that even in this world, even in this moment, even in this present darkness - goodness actually IS stronger than evil; and love actually IS stronger than hate; and light actually IS stronger than darkness; and life actually IS stronger than death.
And to that idle tale, let us always cling! For the Lord is risen. He is risen, indeed.
First Congregational Church of Cheshire
© The Rev. Dr. James Campbell
Luke 24:1-12
But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.
The cartoon is one frame. It shows the open doors of a fine-looking church, with lots and lots of people spilling out onto the sunny sidewalk. On the church’s sign board, it reads: “Happy Easter! Christ is Risen!” A man is shaking the pastor’s hand, while his rather mortified wife looks on. And the caption reads: “Nice sermon, pastor! But I have to tell you… every time I come to church, you’re always preaching about the same thing!”
That cartoon is a gentle jab at those folks who are not regular church-goers, except on this day. And so, if you’re one of those people I haven’t seen since this time last year, let me say two things: First of all, I am really glad to see you again. And second, don’t get your hopes up about the sermon topic!
Because it is always the same. And that is part of what makes an Easter sermon such a challenge. And then there’s the additional pressure of knowing that this might be my only shot at you until next year. And I only have about 15 minutes to say something meaningful about the cornerstone of the Christian faith.
So, there’s a lot of pressure on this day. But there is also another pressure, often left unsaid. And it’s simply this: I know… that you know… that this story is unbelievable. Resurrection is the doctrine that dares not speak its name. And so, we laden this day with beautiful music and banks of flowers and elaborate metaphors to make this claim more palatable: that Jesus Christ, executed by the Empire and laid in a borrowed tomb, was raised from death by the power of God, and is alive forevermore.
Unbelievable, right? But thus, it has ever been. Even on that first Easter Sunday, the very people who knew Jesus best, who heard his speak of his coming Resurrection, found the whole idea absurd.
Luke tells us that when Jesus’s closest friends first heard reports of Resurrection, they dismissed it as “an idle tale” – a phrase that can also be translated as “empty talk,” “a silly story,” “a foolish yarn,” “utter nonsense,” “sheer humbug.”
Well, what else were they to think? It was completely outside their experience of life and the world. And besides all that, the messengers themselves were suspect and not to be believed as a matter of principle.
I’m talking, of course, about the women. Some Gospels have one, two, or three at the empty tomb, but Luke has at least five: Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other unnamed women (plural). And that detail about a group of women is absolutely consistent with Luke’s emphasis on the least, the last, and the lost.
Because that’s who these women were by virtue of their sex: least, last, lost. So diminished was their place in society that historians tell us that in the time of Jesus, a woman’s testimony was not even admissible in court. And the Mishna, part of the oral tradition of ancient Judaism, states: “From women let not evidence be accepted because of the levity and temerity of their sex.” Women weren’t believed then. Often they’re not believed now. And yet it was to women that the message of Resurrection was entrusted.
Well, these not-to-be-believed women went to find the men to tell them what they had seen and heard at the tomb. And I imagine that if I had that kind of news, it would spill out of me in a great gush of words: details about a boulder that had been mysteriously rolled away and a missing corpse and two men who wore glow-in-the-dark clothes, and a question that still haunts us 2000 years later: “Why are you looking for the living among the dead?
Now, I think that these women actually expected to be believed. After all, they were part of the band of disciples. They too had walked and talked with Jesus. Some of these women had even contributed to the ministry of Jesus out of their own resources. So, surely these men would listen. Or at least be kind – with an arm around a shoulder or a quiet nod of solidarity.
But instead of rising to the moment, well, boys will be boys! And these men fell back on old ideas, old prejudices. They dismissed their sisters in Christ as the unreliable witnesses that everyone said they were. One disciple rolled his eyes. Another stifled a giggle. And they were all in agreement that, as Luke says, “…these words seemed to them “an idle tale,” “empty talk,” “a silly story,” “a foolish yarn,” “utter nonsense,” “sheer humbug.” And then Luke reports this devastating conclusion: “they did not believe them.”
Do we?
And yet, here we are, in a church, on Easter Sunday. And here I stand, trying to make sense of it all, and make is easily digestible. Here I stand, thinking that my job today is to explain the Resurrection to you and somehow convince you to believe it. No wonder preachers sweat bullets on Easter!
But this past week, as those old thoughts once again crowded my mind, a new thought pushed its way in. And I wondered: what if all this Easter pressure I feel is actually far more about me and my expectations than it is about you? What if most folks don’t come to church on Easter wanting me to explain anything. Maybe, instead, they come to church wanting me to proclaim that thing they cling to, but don’t always have the words for.
Because we have all lived this story. We all know how to take a trip to the graveyard. Those we love die. We get sick and die. Our fortunes falter. Our children leave. The Republic totters. Creation groans. Sometimes, it seems like this old world will pull apart. And yet, we cling.
There was a woman in my church in Manhattan who was as plain-spoken as they come. She was a New England transplant, by the way. From Connecticut! On the surface, she sometimes seemed as if she didn’t believe much that could not be rationally explained. But over the years, as I got to know her, I discovered her deep and intelligent faith. And every now and again, she would actually speak the word of the Lord to me.
One year, about this time, we were discussing Easter preparations at church, when she quipped: “The Resurrection is just a miracle.” Puzzled, and a bit shocked by her comment, I asked her to say more. She looked at me as if I were rather dim and then said: “James, it doesn’t really take much to believe in a miracle. It’s believing the truth that’s underneath the miracle that matters.”
Believing the truth that’s underneath the miracle. Or as the great German theologian and martyr Dietrich Bonhoeffer, put it: “Christ did not come into this world so that we might understand him, but that we might cling to him in order to be caught up in the immense event of Resurrection.”
And THAT is why many of us are here today - to be caught up in the immense event of Resurrection - the unbelievable, audacious, ridiculous, and glorious idea that even in this world, even in this moment, even in this present darkness - goodness actually IS stronger than evil; and love actually IS stronger than hate; and light actually IS stronger than darkness; and life actually IS stronger than death.
And to that idle tale, let us always cling! For the Lord is risen. He is risen, indeed.
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