Sermon on Matthew 28:1-10

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

We celebrate new life today, but the story of the first Easter begins with death.

Jesus was dead. There’s no Easter without the violence of Good Friday and the grief and helplessness of Holy Saturday.

Two of Jesus’ disciples, both named Mary, went in the first light of that Sunday morning to the tomb where Jesus had been laid.

And they weren’t alone there. The Gospel of Matthew spends a lot of time before and after our reading talking about the guards who had been posted at the tomb. According to this account, Pilate was concerned that Jesus’ followers would steal his body so they could claim he had risen from the dead.

As if Jesus’ death weren’t enough, the authorities used guards to make sure Jesus’ story wouldn’t be told as anything but failure, humiliation, and death.

It seemed like the Beloved Community had failed. It seemed like death and the status quo had won and that Jesus wouldn’t be remembered as anything but a failed radical phony rabbi. It seemed like it was all for nothing.

We talked throughout Lent about God’s love for this worldand our broken relationship with creation. We started learning about lament, talked about microplastics, and took a trip to the landfill to learn about what can be done with waste.

When learning about climate change, it can feel like death has already won. It can feel like our attempts at recycling or replacing a lawn withdrought-resistant plantsarea total waste. It can seem like nothing can overcome the status quo of overconsumption and pollution. It can seem like death has won.

But Easter is about remembering that death hasn’t won.

As those two grieving Marysmade their pilgrimage to the tomb, risking their safety by being alone with the guards in a secluded place, suddenly there was an earthquake that caused the great rock in front of the tomb to move. The earth moved the stone when Jesus’ followers weren’t able to. The earth cooperated in releasing Jesus from the tomb.

And on top of the stone was a supernatural being so bright their eyes hurt.There’s a reason divine messengers almost always have to tell people not to be afraid—they’re terrifying! It says the guards posted at the tomb “shook and became like dead men” upon seeing the angel. Professional soldiers fainted at the sight.

The agents of the status quo weren’t a match for God’s power of life. The giant stone they had sealed up Jesus’ body with wasn’t able to prevent life from bursting forth.

Though the Gospel of Matthew says the religious leaders bribed the guards to say that Jesus followers had removed the body, the authorities weren’t able to stamp out the good news of the Beloved Community. If they had, we wouldn’t be here together today. The Way of Jesus would have died out then.

Jesus rose from the dead, defeating death and bringing Good News of new life to the world.

And our God of new life is still at work.

We’re no match for the forces of death and destruction on our own, but God’s working with us every step of the way, guiding us, inspiring us, strengthening bonds between us as we do what we can to bring life to the world around us.

As I mentioned, some of us toured our local landfill week before last. We learned that the Olinda Alpha landfill in Brea receives 3,000 tons of waste a day. The hills we drove around were made up of compacted waste covered in dirt and native plants. They have devices for collecting the methane released by the buried waste and converting it into electricity. To a certain extent, they sort the waste, diverting some metal and wood for recycling or composting.

We drove to the highest point of one of the hills, where the waste was exposed, and massive excavators and other heavy machinery drove in and around it. It was sobering to see the waste instead of just imagining the masses of it under our feet.

Our tour guides informed us that seagulls create problems by swooping in and grabbing bits of toxic waste and migrating, dropping the waste all over—the beach, people’s pools and homes.

In the past, they would fire guns to scare away the seagulls, but what goes up must come down, so that wasn’t a safe solution.

Now, they bring in hawks and falcons to scare them away. We got to meet with two falconers, who had brought Harris hawks with them. These powerful and beautiful birds contrasted so sharply with the masses of garbage.

One of the falconers had a cross around his neck, so we asked him and his partner, who’s also a Christian, how their faith informs what they do. I wish I could tell you her exact words, but the partner said something to the effect of: it’s hard to be around the waste all the time, but working alongside creation in those birds helps her feel like she’s a partner in doing what she can to protect people and provide a safe and natural solution to the seagull problem. She sees God in everything around us.

Her words were a powerful reminder that there are things we can do to work alongside God even when it seems like death has won.

I’ve often heard Christians described as Easter people, and that’s beautiful. But I think part of a life of faith is holding the truths of Good Friday and Easter together.

Easter makes no sense without Good Friday. There’s no resurrection without death.

There is death. There is also new life.There is waste, and there is also compost that nourishes.There is violence, and there is also compassion that heals.God is present in all of it, weeping, rejoicing, comforting, guiding, inspiring.

It’s such an abrupt shift emotionally from Good Friday to Easter. It’s dramatic, but it can also feel dissatisfying to celebrate Christ defeating death when we still feel death’s effects so profoundly.

There’s still so much wrong with the world—violence, hate, and destruction. And we celebrate that God works in and despite that to create new life and hope and love.

It would be irresponsible of us to talk throughout Lent about our broken relationship with creation, and then turn around and pretend like everything’s fine because it’s Easter.

Easter doesn’t mean we stop talking about the hard things, the broken things, the things that make us want to crawl back into bed and never leave.

Easter means we acknowledge the hard things about life, do what we can that’s life-giving for our neighbors and the world, and trust in our Savior who faced the world’s death-dealing forces and whose love burst forth into new life.

Our Creator is everywhere we look.

Jesus brings new life.

The Holy Spirit brings healing to our relationship with the earth and hope for a future where all life flourishes in the Beloved Community.

This is why, even as we tell the truth about what is hard, we can still proclaim, “Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia!”