Matthew 28:1-10
28After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb.

2And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it.
3His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men.

5But the angel said to the women, ‘Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he* lay. 7Then go quickly and tell his disciples, “He has been raised from the dead,* and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.” This is my message for you.’

8So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9Suddenly Jesus met them and said, ‘Greetings!’ And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him.

10Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’

This is the Word of God. Thanks be to God!

Earlier this week, I was over at the coffee shop on the East end of Main and I was going through the cacophony of fliers and leaflets on their bulletin board, advertising everything from concerts to nannies looking for work.

There was a hand-written poem posted on the wall that caught my eye. Those of you who know anything about poetry can laugh now when I tell you that I wondered if the author, Czeslaw Milosz, was a local Beaconite. A quick glance at Wikipedia revealed that this poem was written by one of the titans of 20th poetry, a Nobel-prize winner, originally from Lithuania who wrote in Polish, a critic of the totalitarian nation-state, and a champion of freedom.

But, before I knew any of this, I was captured by the raw power of the words to his poem, hand-written among all the paper clamoring for space on the coffee shop bulletin board.

The poem is called: This World

It appears that it was all a misunderstanding.
What was only a trial run was taken seriously.
The rivers will return to their beginnings.
The wind will cease in its turning about.
Trees instead of budding will tend to their roots.
Old men will chase a ball, a glance in the mirror -
They are children again.
The dead will wake up, not comprehending.
Till everything that happened has unhappened.
What a relief! Breathe freely, you who suffered much.

Of course, I had resurrection on the mind when I stumbled upon these words… and I saw an immediate connection: The dead will wake up, as well as the reassuring: Breathe freely, you who suffered much. Resurrection imagery to be sure.

I loved this image of a return… a starting over. Old men chasing a ball looking in the mirror to see that they are children. What relief in going back to the beginning. What a relief in starting over.

We all want to start over in life sooner or later, don’t we? Go back to when we were younger, when things were easier. Go back to the time before we made those mistakes or before that person did that horrible thing to us. Before the war... before the divorce... before he died.

After they got over their initial terror, I imagine the women in our scripture feeling such amazing relief when they first saw their Lord... alive!

Time to go back to Galilee. Time to start over.

It had started out so good three years ago. Though the crowds came and went, it was really just a small group of them who stuck with Jesus all the way. Like everyone else, their lives made sense when they were with him. They were whole. They were home.

But, unlike the crowds, they didn’t go back to their homes. They left what they had known behind. That faithful band of friends left their hometowns in Galilee – places like Magdala and Tiberias – and followed him all over... over to Decapolis, up to the land of Tyre and Sidon, and eventually, down to Jerusalem.

Throughout the travels, they watched him heal. They listened to him preach. They believed him when he said that they, too, could do the good that he did – even more – even though they were simple Galileans, not rich like the merchant traders of the Mediterranean port cities or powerful like the Roman politicians or righteous like the scribes of the Holy City.

These down-home Galileans followed him with all the way to that Holy City, Jerusalem. It felt so far from home, and of course, it was there that things started to go bad.

They were used to the conflict he stirred up. There were always those who resisted, who tried to oppose him. But, in Jerusalem, it was different. He caused a scene when he threw the money changers out of the Temple and he just wouldn’t back down every time he saw the scribes or the Pharisees.

The rest was a blur… like all trauma... especially when you lose someone you love. The soldiers in the garden and Judas’ kiss… the joke of a trial… the lashings… the crown of thorns… carrying the cross through the streets. The awful hanging up there until he breathed his last breath.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he was rushed into the tomb before the Sabbath. They didn’t even have enough time prepare his body with the proper spices and ointments. That’s why the women had come that morning... to give the body a proper burial.

In all the other gospels, the women come to find the stone rolled away from the tomb, but in Matthew’s gospel that we read today, the scene is much more dramatic and traumatic.

There was a great earthquake and an angel of the Lord came down from heaven – dazzling white, like lightning – and rolled back the stone. And, the angel sat there – right on the stone – as the terrified guards shook and became like dead men.

But, from up on his perch, the angel said to them, ‘Don’t be afraid; I know that you’re looking for Jesus who was crucified. He isn’t here. He has been raised like he told you. Look inside the tomb where he was laying. Then go quickly and tell his disciples that he has been raised from the dead. In fact, he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there... back home, you’ll see him for yourselves.”

And, the Bible says that the women left the tomb quickly with that mixture of fear and great joy, running to tell the disciples the good news.

But, then, there he was… the risen Lord. Alive... right there... before their very eyes. They fell at his feet and grabbed a hold of him, worshipping him. Then they heard his voice, so familiar, saying, “Don’t be afraid.” And then he said exactly what the angel had told them, “Go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”

Back to Galilee. Thank you Jesus!

I imagine them running to tell the rest of the disciples, and then, in my mind’s eye, I can see the whole gang - the whole crew of disciples, men and women - walking those 60 miles or so from Jerusalem to Galilee… about the same distance from the city up here to Beacon.

I imagine a mix of hope and doubt... of bewilderment and trust... as they made the journey. But, mostly, I imagine how much - deep in their bones - they were glad to be going back to Galilee.

“Thank God we’re leaving Jerusalem,” they must have thought, “with those awful crowds and those corrupt leaders. They didn’t understand him… they didn’t believe him… they tried to kill him. Yes, Master, back to Galilee... back to where it all started. It’s time to start over.”

I can imagine the feelings of those disciples would resonate with the sentiments of the Milosz’ poem as they walked those dusty roads: It appears that it was all a misunderstanding. What a relief! Breathe freely, you who suffered much. Breathe freely, you who suffered much.

The scripture continues with the disciples having returned to Galilee, to a mountain Jesus had directed them. They found him there and worshipped him, though - even then - some doubted. And, on that mountain, Jesus came and said those famous words:

All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.

And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.

So much for starting over. So much for going back to what they know. When the rest of the disciples saw the risen Lord, they realized that everything was changed... for their lives and for the world. Jesus had brought them back home - back to where it started - only to send them farther beyond anything they had ever experienced. If they thought that Decapolis was exotic, if they thought Jerusalem was intense, they were being sent out to all the nations.

It wasn’t like the poem at all. They weren’t starting over. It wasn’t a trial run. Everything happened for a reason, and now it was being fulfilled. Their time with Jesus was a careful preparation for where their lives were now going. They had been brought home only to be sent out further. They were not children at all. They had been formed... through the struggle... through the agony.

And, most importantly, when they left the familiar... when they left what they knew... when they left home... they would not go alone.

Jesus’ words would live within them, “I am with you, always, to the end of the age.”

Friends, this Easter season, may you - like the disciples - receive an invitation to return to return to what you know. May you be restored by the people you know, the foods you love, the familiar stomping grounds... especially if you’ve been finding yourself struggling and overwhelmed.

But, as you go, know that the Risen Christ goes before you, and because of that you are not the same person. You’ve been changed by the journey... and by what the Risen Christ has done for you. And, because of that, God has so much more in store for you.

“Breathe freely, you who suffered much,” Jesus says. “It wasn’t a trial run. It all had a purpose, and it’s only beginning. You’ll go places you never imagined. And, I’ll be with you... always.”

Hallelujah. May it be so. Amen.