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Knowing God Gospel: Matthew 28:1-10 The story of Jesus, his time here on earth, is like a story of bookends. It begins with angels, and it ends with angels. I'd been especially interested in pursuing that recently and have been doing a little reading in the field of angelology, which is fairly esoteric. The literature is both confusing and fascinating. There's very little agreement about angels. Everybody has a different idea of who they are, where they come from, and what they look like. There
is, however, general agreement that the angels are messengers of God.
They are sent to proclaim special messages of good news and importance.
Angels have a kind of hierarchy, and there's general agreement that cherubim
and seraphim are at the head of the pecking order. In much of the literature
there is conjecture about the size and shape of angels, and it's generally
agreed that cherubim and seraphim are somewhere between twelve and fifteen
feet in height. They have a lightning-like appearance, and when they touch
the ground, the earth quakes. These are, to say the least, impressive
figures. But
the interesting story is this: that whereas when the men see an angel
they are struck dumb, in every case where an angel comes to a woman, the
woman simply talks with him like he's an old friend. They aren't struck
dumb. They aren't like dead people. They carry on a conversation. In fact,
they're kind of impertinent, like, "Who are you?" "Why
are you here?" We have this interesting story of these two followers of Jesus who are on their way to Emmaus--a little town about twelve, fifteen miles outside Jerusalem--and they're walking along, and a stranger comes and joins them. This stranger says, "Where are you going, you guys?" And they say, "Well, we're going over to Emmaus. We're going to have a little meeting. It's sort of a strategy-thing to figure out what we're going to do. Because, see, we had been followers of this man, Jesus, and we had hoped that he was the Messiah. We had hoped that he was going to bring the kingdom of God. We hoped that he was the Christ, but, see? It didn't work out. They arrested and killed him. So it's kind of all over." Jesus said, "Well, that's an interesting story. Let me join you, and we'll just sort of talk as we go along. I know something about this." And he proceeds to talk to them. Well, I'll tell you what. It takes about two or three hours for them to get the picture. In fact, they are sitting there, having lunch, and Jesus takes the bread and breaks it, and, of course, they're the hosts; he's the guest. And they figure out--host, guest, duh. "This must be Jesus." The women have known it for a long time. In fact, these men say to Jesus, "You know, we had hoped that you would be the Christ, and we've been pretty shaken up here. The rug has been pulled out from under us. We may be arrested and killed ourselves. And the only thing that we have to pin our hopes on, there are some women who are going around telling people that Jesus has been raised from the dead, but, ha-ha, you can't believe that." I want to suggest to you that there's a good reason why the women hear the message the way that they do. Women are, in this culture in which we're talking, not allowed to think and talk. So they learn a different way of discovering truth. They learn this remarkable thing called listening and looking. They observe, and they see. "Blessed is she who sees." The men are busy talking. The women are listening. They're watching. And they're learning. We just got the wonderful news at our house on Saturday morning of the birth of a new grandchild in our family, Sarah Elizabeth--a wonderful baby, a gift of God. In a couple of weeks we're going to see Sarah Elizabeth. We're going to hold her in our hands. I probably won't check out to see how many toes she has. I probably won't start testing her intelligence. I probably won't want DNA samples. That kind of logical, rational way of thinking, which I'm given to--because, believe me, I grew up as a man in this culture--I won't do that, because I understand that Sarah Elizabeth is a priceless gift. I will receive her with love, and she will be mine. And I will know Sarah Elizabeth. I won't know about Sarah Elizabeth. I will know Sarah Elizabeth. You see the difference? The disciples wanted to know about Jesus. They wanted to learn about God. The women wanted to receive God. They wanted to know God, not know about him. Now, I don't want to start a lot of controversy at lunch today where men get very defensive and say, "Well now, was Bob suggesting that women are smarter or something?" It's not that women are smarter. It's that they're different. They are wired in such a way that they are not factual. They are not logical in the same way that men are. They are relational. They understand the ties of people. And that's why Jesus comes as the risen Lord to those who are wired to know him, not know about him. We can learn a lot about Easter and about life and about faithful, loving, trusting relationships from women. We need to recognize that the truth is not always in arguments in syllogisms. It's not A follows B; therefore, C. It's just given. Whether we're talking about the world, our nation, Memphis or Calvary Church, God is a gift that comes to us without any of the rational and functional issues. God comes to us in person. The power of that is so incredible. I read this story about how at the end of the Cold War, when the forces of Communism and the Free World were engaged all around the globe in this battle for people's minds and hearts, there was this political gathering somewhere in a city in Greece. It probably was Athens. The speaker was haranguing the crowd about the lies of capitalism and the untruths of religion, which oppressed people and kept them from their rightful place in life. He was going on and on, and a great crowd had gathered. In the middle of all this, from the very back, an anonymous woman shouted out in Greek, egeiro [Have you ever noticed in the last verse of "A Mighty Fortress is Our God," the line, "One little word shall fell him." Have you ever wondered what that little word is? It's one word in Greek, and it's the word that this woman shouted from the back.] It means, "He is risen." The crowd shouted back, "He is risen indeed," and then the crowd dispersed, and the Communist speaker was left alone in the square. "One little word will fell him." Egeiro! I greet you this morning in the joyous words of that Easter morning when those women recognized the Lord, and they said, "He is risen." And we say, "He is risen indeed. Alleluia." Copyright 2002 Calvary Episcopal Church Gospel: Matthew 28:1-10 |
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