Lets think about
the scene Matthew sets in the reading we just heard. It is early dawn on Sunday morning. As few as two guards (if they are from the
temple detachment) or as many as sixteen (if the outfit is composed of Roman
soldiers), are keeping watch in a Jerusalem cemetery. They arrived sometime on Saturday, inspected
the tomb containing Jesus’ body, found it to be as it should, rolled a large
stone across the entrance, and sealed it.
There is concern Jesus’ followers will unleash an attempt to steal the
body in order to perpetuate a hoax about a resurrection.
Two women –
followers of Jesus – approach. Matthew
tells us they want “to see” the tomb.
Unlike other gospel accounts, they are not carrying burial
ointments. They want to see the
tomb. Matthew’s lean description hints
the women are not coming to the tomb to grieve nor are they here to tend to additional
burial treatments. They are here “to see”…
presumably to see if anything has happened.
While the other disciples (and by other I mean the men) fail to grasp
Jesus’ teaching he would die and rise on the third day, these women have heard
it and are here to see… to see if only maybe, the horror they witnessed on
Friday has been undone.
The approach of
the women puts the guards on high alert.
This could be the first stage of an elaborate plot to steal the
body. Still, even if it is only two
guards, the women in and of themselves do not pose a threat. These men are trained security personnel who
are more than capable of defending themselves against the women, or even a
small band of Jesus’ followers.
What happens next
would have been difficult for the women and the guards to process.
Forensic
psychologists who attempt to understand why eyewitness accounts of a single
event often differ provide critical insight.
When confronted with a sudden, dramatic event (such as a crime or
accident or tragedy), the human brain does not record the experience in a way
resembling a motion picture, but rather as a series of snapshots or
snippets. Years ago, I had the
misfortune of navigating my mountain bike off a footbridge over a shallow
ravine. I still have a vivid memory of
what happened, but not like that of a film.
It was snapshot – I have turned too sharply as I ride onto the bridge so
I brake. Snapshot – my bike has stopped,
but my body has not. I am flying over
the handlebar. Snapshot – twist and turn
in midair. I don’t have any conscious
remembrance of making this decision.
Snapshot – it is dark, but my hands have caught side of the footbridge breaking
my fall. Snapshot – I feel safe, but
wonder where my bike is. Final snapshot
– I am laying in the ravine after my bike come over the bridge and hits me in
the head. I am none the worse for the
experience. My bike, however, is beaten
up pretty bad.
Have you ever had
an experience like this - a snapshot, snapshot, snapshot moment? If so, you have an insight into what happens
at Jesus’ tomb.
As Matthew tells
it there is a great earthquake as the women approach. An angel descends from heaven. Now, we may think of angels as being sweet
little cherub-like creatures, but in the bible they are much more fearsome and
intimidating. Matthew describes it as
being like a bolt of lightning. Have you
ever been close to a lightning strike?
It gets your attention, doesn’t it.
Your body reacts to it. Your hair
stands on end. Your heart rate goes off
the chart. You duck involuntarily and
turn away. This angel event, whatever it
is, stuns the guards. They become like
dead men. The women are terrified and
the first thing the angel says to them is “Do not be afraid.” The angel then proclaims Jesus has risen and
commissions the women to take a message to his disciples.
Here is what is
interesting: up until this point in the narrative, the guards and the women
have participated in the exact same experience.
The only difference is the guards are here to guard and the women are
here to see.
The forensic
psychologists who study the human brain’s processing under difficult
circumstances note our tendency to fill in missing information lost in the gaps
between the snapshots we remember. It
turns out the brain does not like an empty vacuum so it will manufacture
information, or even appropriate the memories of others as its own. Police investigators deal with this all the
time when they interview multiple witnesses of a single event. Discerning reality can be a tremendous challenge. The two groups do not hang around to process
their varying experiences and no investigator will be able to interview the
women and the guards together.
The women leave
the scene quickly and then experience another “sudden” event. Jesus meets them and speaks to them:
“Greetings.” They touch him and worship
him. They hear him speak to them.
“Some” of the
guards leave the cemetery as well. They
report to their superiors the tomb is open and empty. The superiors concoct a story about the body
being stolen and pay off the guards. I
suspect the guards have no idea what happened.
They have mental snapshots of something like two women approaching, a
lightening bolt, an open tomb, and an empty tomb.
On the other
hand, the women have more mental pictures and are trying to piece together some
kind of description of what has happened.
Matthew’s narrative reads like snapshots – angel, “not here”, “risen”, “go
and tell”, “Galilee”, “greetings”.
Ultimately it is not the story they tell, but the experience they relate
that becomes important. Matthew’s gospel
does not record the exchange between the women and the disciples, nor does it
detail any encounter the disciples have with the Risen Jesus until they go to
Galilee and see him there. We can only
surmise the women are very convincing.
Here is the irony
of Matthew’s story. In the courts of the
day, a woman’s testimony is considered unreliable and therefore is not
permitted. On the other hand, the
testimony of a guard is considered to be beyond reproach. As we gather this morning, I invite you to
consider one certainty and two possibilities.
Based on Matthew’s account, this much is certain: the tomb containing
Jesus’ body is empty by dawn on Sunday morning.
No one in this account, or in any of the other gospel accounts, disputes
this.
How the tomb came
to be empty is disputed. Either the
defeated, fearful disciples who fled at Jesus’ arrest on Thursday night reorganize,
overwhelm the well-trained guards (who, by the way, have no wounds to account
for how they lost such a skirmish), steal the body, move it to a secret
location, never reveal to anyone where it is hidden, and travel the known world
proclaiming a lie for which each is willing to die, or the dead body of Jesus
is resurrected and released from the sealed tomb though a means which we cannot
explain apart from the power of God.
I am intrigued
this morning by how different people can be at the tomb on Easter morning,
experience much of the same thing, and come away with such differing accounts –
and therefore differing meanings – of what happened. Here we are, participating in that moment through
our hearing. We are being challenged to
take these snippets and formulate some kind of sensible story. Why is the tomb empty? Why do Jesus’ dispirited disciples rally to
change the world?
Did somebody or
some group overpower the guards and move the body to a secret location never to
be discovered? Or…
Alleluia,
Christ is Risen!
The
Lord is Risen indeed!
