"The risen Jesus is not ‘The Man Upstairs’... a celestial gas or the invisible honorary president of outer space. His resurrection was not an escape into the Great Beyond while the band played, ‘Up, Up, and Away.’ His breakthrough into new life on Easter morning unfettered Him from the space-time limitations of existence in the flesh and empowered Him to touch not only Nepal but New Orleans, not only Matthew and Magdalene but me. The Lion of Judah in His present risenness pursues tracks and stalks us here and now. When we cry out with Jeremiah, ‘Enough already! Leave me alone in my melancholy,’ the Shepherd replies, ‘I will not leave you alone. You are Mine. I know each of My sheep by name. You belong to Me. If you think that I am finished with you, if you think I am a small god that you can keep at a safe distance, I will pounce upon you like a roaring lion, tear you to pieces, rip you to shreds and break every bone in your body. Then I will mend you, cradle you in My arms, and kiss you tenderly.”
This thought comes from former Franciscan priest Brennan Manning who says in his book The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus, that “The Lion and the Shepherd are one in the same. Ferocious pursuit and unwavering compassion are dual facts of the tremendous Lover who knows not only what hurts us but also how to heal us." (Brennan Manning, The Relentless Tenderness of Jesus, p.148-149)
The Lord, Isaiah tells us, will prepare a feast, destroy the shroud cast over us, swallow up death forever, and therefore wipe every tear away from our eyes. This process is not an easy waltz into Christianity - or for that matter into any religious consciousness. Our real encounters with the holy are anything but tame.
The end of Mark’s gospel, in some of its earliest forms that we know, ends at verse 8 with the three women leaving the tomb in terror and amazement saying nothing to anyone. So it’s not exactly the most evangelical of the gospels. Neither does it seem to be as embellished as the other gospels or even the later editions of Mark itself. In this version, there are no accounts of the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus. Also, this gospel doesn’t exaggerate the role of the messenger who lets the women know that Jesus is no longer in the tomb. He isn’t described as an angel. His robe is not described as dazzlingly white. He’s just a guy in a white robe with some strange words who happens to startle the women when they find him sitting in this cave of the dead.
In Mark’s gospel the readers or hearers are supposed to “get it” for themselves. Mark seems to be jabbing at us, saying, See! The empty tomb is enough. Jesus has suffered and died so that we can live. Even the grave cannot hold him. It is an amazing story. It is a terrifying story – one that often leaves us afraid and speechless as well.
When we finally have that breakthrough moment and realize that the Lion has us by the throat, and our lives will never be the same, it’s hard even to pray. I remember some angry prayers as the living Christ seemed to hold back my arms from beating the air. I came into the ministry, really into Christianity itself, not with joy and serenity, but with much kicking and gnashing of teeth. Who wants to be captive to this story (A story that seems to articulate a cruel and jealous God who’s willing to sacrifice the very best gift of all – the gift of a child)? Who wants to promote the retelling of ghostly appearances of Jesus of Nazareth when we know that human beings die, and ghosts belong in the realm of the paranormal at best?
But the gospel will not let us go so easily. The self-consciousness of being human makes us wonder about the big questions. Is God real? Does God love me? Does God love other people too? What happens to us when we die? We are looking for hopeful answers to all of these questions. It can be comforting to know that there’s a force to be reckoned with much more powerful than we are, and yet it can also be discomforting to know that that same force is intimately, personally involved in our lives.
I wish I could explain to you exactly how, and why in such a way that you could have that “Aha” moment for yourselves. But the words that even get us close to understanding God are always couched in metaphor and escape literal translation. The empty tomb itself – with or without any evidence that Jesus is walking around and will catch up with us in Galilee, or Tennessee is still to be a sign for us that life is affirmed.
The time of pain and suffering has been transformed. God will wipe away the tears from our eyes. Our tears of grief and sadness become touched by amazement and overwhelming love.
“Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!” These are shouts of joy to the God who goes beyond the limits to reach us and save us. We worship and adore the living Lord who has endured the highs and lows of human life so that we can be more human ourselves. Jesus endured great suffering so that we might recognize the power and influence of evil in our lives and stop short before we reduce the spirit of love to an empty sentiment. The compassion, the very heart of God stalks us, grabs us, and will not let us go.
In C.S. Lewis’ story The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, now the Narnia movie, Lucy asks Mr. Beaver about Aslan, the Lion who represents God’s fierce love, “Is he safe?” Mr. Beaver responds, “Safe? Don't you hear what Mrs. Beaver tells you? Of course he isn't safe... but... he's GOOD... He's the King.” God’s love may not be safe for us, but God is love, complete and absolute, God is love.
Amen.