April 9, 2023 - Easter Sunday
Rev. Mary Erickson
Hope Lutheran Church
Matthew 28:1-10
Easter’s Ray of Hope
Friends, may grace and peace be yours in abundance in the knowledge of God and Christ Jesus our Lord.
The dawn was slowly eroding the darkness of the night. When the women left their homes, the early morning was still quite dark. They carefully crept along their way. But as the women progressed towards Jesus’ tomb, the gray morning was dawning. Each step brought more light. The first rays of the morning’s sunrise were beating back the darkness.
And there, at the tomb, it became even brighter. They saw a heavenly angel. He was as brilliant as lightning. He rolled away the impossible stone blocking the entrance to Jesus’ tomb. But Jesus wasn’t inside! He was already gone! He had risen from the dead!
Easter dawns with a ray of hope. Where once there was only darkness, Easter brings light. Easter proclaims that Jesus has overcome all of our greatest enemies. Sin has been defeated; death has been overwhelmed; the gates of hell have been broken down.
We come here this morning to retrace the steps of those wondering women. We see the scene through their eyes, their witness:
• The gray morning light
• The heaviness in their hearts
• The shock of the quaking earth, the fierce angel
• And the unbelievable news: Jesus isn’t there. The tomb is empty.
• And then the presence of the risen Lord
Easter dawns with the rays of hope. Its hope speaks into the shadowy corners of our lingering despair. In this life, the darkness will never be fully beaten back. But, despite the fear, regardless of death’s reach, Easter’s light and hope shines through.
When we watch the evening news, it seems that the horizon is darkening before us, we’re careening towards the night. The shadows are lengthening: school shootings, devastating tornadoes, endless wars. It seems like evil is gaining the upper hand. But because of Easter’s dawn, we look at evil knowing it’s already been vanquished. In Easter’s rays of hope, we sing before evil, “We shall overcome.”
We awaken this morning like the women, surrounded by our half-darkness. The old fear still lingers. The continual drumming of fear and dread beats around us.
But with Easter’s dawn, a new and lively rhythm pulsates as well. It’s the heartbeat of new life, of life eternal. It’s the rhythm of resurrection. Our steps towards the empty tomb quicken to its beat. And now we can dance to the beat of a different drummer. Not to fear and its terror and dread, but we dance to Christ’s heartbeat. We dance to the pulsating new life that cannot be destroyed.
As we wake up this morning, we still live in the midst of fear and suffering and death. Easter is here this morning, but still we grieve our dead.
However, now, with Christ stepping from the tomb, the ground beneath our grief has shifted. The quake of that first Easter morning has shifted the ground of grief’s bedrock. We know that the tomb has been opened. Death has been conquered in the dawning of Christ’s new day.
So our weeping may last for the night, but we know the night will end. There is a new day, a new day in Christ, and joy comes in the morning.
