April 11, 2004

Rev. Henry Ticknor
Unitarian Universalist Church of the Shenandoah Valley

Resurrections Great and Small

On this Sunday afternoon the old story bears retelling. It is a story that some find comforting; while others find implausible. It is a story that is found in many traditions; and yet it is a story that defines one specific tradition. To some it is a matter of fact; to others an ancient myth retold. According to one writer the story goes like this:

“Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have lain him.” Saying this she turned around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have lain Him, and I will take him away. Jesus said to her, “Mary, “ she turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbi (which means teacher). Jesus said to her,” Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to my father and your father, to my God and Your God.” Mary Mag’dalene went and said to the disciples, “I have seen the lord”; and she told them that He had said these things to her.

Now I think that this is one of the most poignant and instructive stories in Christian scripture. The story tells of a devoted disciple immediately after the death of her beloved “teacher.” For just moments consider the surprise she must have felt when first she saw that the body of Jesus was no longer in the tomb. This is not what her life experience has told her should happen. Expecting to see the body of Jesus she is quite understandably taken aback by the empty tomb. In her grief she envisions two angels who ask why she is crying. She responds with the only logical answer she can come up with. She responds that she is upset that the authorities must have removed the body of her beloved teacher. A normal and reasonable response, I think.

Then she turns to see another person standing behind her whom she assumes is the cemetery gardener, and she asks him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have lain him, and I will take him away.” Again, a rational response to what her life experience has taught her. Surely, some person has purposely removed the body from the tomb.

So far nothing Mary has said is out of the realm of ordinary life experience. Imagine your feelings of going to a funeral of a loved one only to learn that somehow the body has gone missing. What a jumble of thoughts and feelings would result—anger and disbelief would be added to our grief. Nothing in Mary’s life experience or our own could prepare us for such a sight.

It is at the end of the story that the Gospel writer created a very poignant scene. Jesus responds to Mary saying, “Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the father…” Do not hold me, but let me go.” He seems to be telling Mary, “Remember my living; do not dwell on my dying. Do not hold me, but let me go.”

I wonder how often each of us been tempted to hold on to our losses, unable to see beyond our immediate pain. We hold on to, we put our energies into, our grief rather than into our healing. In all of our lives there are uncountable losses—the deaths of people close to us, friends who move away, children who go off in pursuit of there own lives, loss of jobs, and for some, even retirement represents the end of one way of life. In every case we have a choice, we can either hold on to our negative emotions or we can let them go. In our reading Jesus tells Mary let go and move on to the next thing life brings.

For me this is the essence of the Easter story. Holding on and letting go. Holding on to “everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes,” and letting go of that which holds us back. This is the story of the resurrection; the freeing of our selves to be open to what comes next. To be open to the love, truth and goodness that live on even after a painful loss. We should note, however, that Christians are not the only religious tradition that contains a story of death and resurrection.

Long before organized religion, humans celebrated the death of winter and the return of spring with rituals to the gods and goddesses. These rituals celebrated the return of the sun’s warmth and the emergence of new life. Since the beginning of time, every year the son of god or the daughter of the goddess was slain, died, and was dragged into the underworld. Humans mourned the loss. But the earth was restored and her people rejoiced. Over the ages Christians appropriated these celebrations and Easter came to symbolize the rebirth of humankind through the death and resurrection of Jesus. Just as many of the Christmas traditions have their basis in pagan rituals so does Easter.

To the pagan community, Eostre begins the time of preparing the garden and selecting seeds for planting. The earth is plowed and prepared to receive the seed, a ritual act of fertility. For some, the spring equinox celebrated the goddess’ ascent from the hidden realm of shadows. Longing for her children and the light of the sun, she emerges. As she returns the earth awakens and her children rejoice. The Romans, Mesopotamians, Babylonians, Palestinians all told stories of death and rebirth.

Easter celebrations were held hundreds of years before Jesus was born as festivals of spring honoring Eostre, the great mother goddess of the Saxons. This name was fashioned after the ancient word for spring, Eastre. The goddess Ostara was the Norse equivalent whose symbols were the hare and the egg. From this comes our modern tradition of celebrating Easter with eggs and bunnies.

In the Mediterranean region, there was a pre-Christian spring celebration centered around the vernal equinox that honored Cybele, the Phrygian goddess of fertility. Cybele’s consort, Attis, was considered born of a virgin and was believed to have died and been resurrected three days later. Attis derived his mythology from even earlier gods, Osiris, Dionysus, and Orpheus, who also were supposed to have been born of a virgin and suffered death and resurrection as long as 500 years before Christ was born. The death of Attis was commemorated on a Friday and the resurrection was celebrated three days later on Sunday.

There are other Easter traditions that are pagan in origin. The Easter sunrise service is derived from the ancient pagan practice of welcoming the sun on the morning of the spring equinox, marking the beginning of spring. What we now call Easter lilies were revered by the ancients as symbols of fertility. The ancient Babylonian religions had rituals involving dyed eggs, as did the ancient Egyptians.

Our use of Easter Eggs and Easter bunnies were derived from the pagan culture where the egg and the hare were both symbols of fertility and new life. Ancient Egyptian, Persian and Chinese civilizations used the egg as the icon of new life. The Anglo-Saxons who venerated the hare as a symbol of fertility brought the bunny connection with Easter to England.

Even the custom of eating hot-crossed buns is also said to have pagan origins. The Saxons ate buns that were marked with a cross in honor of the goddess. The ancient Greeks also consumed similar bread in their celebrations of the goddess of the hunt. There are differing opinions as to what the cross symbolizes. One suggestion is that horn symbols were places on the cakes to represent an ox which was sacrificed in the spring while others suggest that the cross marks on the bun relate to moon worship, where the bun represented the full moon and the cross its four quarters.

And so the story of Easter is a complex melding of Christian and pagan traditions—a matrix of history, mythology, fact and fancy, theology and tradition.

One commentator has written, “But underlying this matrix, there seems to be a persistent and common theme. The Easter story says that there is a destructiveness in life, a real agony and terror, and evil that is demonic; but there is also life renewal, a creativeness, and a persistence of goodness, even godliness. ”

Earl Holt writes, “ Resurrection is real for all people—Christian or not—or it is real for none. Jesus died. His death meant exactly what every death means: the end of life’s promise, the end of his hopes, the end of his dreams, and also the hopes and dreams which others had of him and for him—of what they hoped he was, of what they wanted him to be. Something happened in the minds and hearts of Jesus’ disciples, for whom everything had been lost. A transformation occurred, a radical shift from absolute despair to renewed hope, from a sense of utter absence to a feeling that Jesus was still with them…”

I like that phrase “Resurrection is real for all people.” The possibility of transformation and renewal is within each of us. I’m sure every one here has experienced that dark despairing time known as the dark night of the soul. We have experienced life without hope. And yet, in the dawning of a new day hope has been restored. It has transformed us. It has redeemed us.

All around us are people we know whose lives in large ways and small have been transformed and renewed; who have overcome unimaginable losses. Those who have defeated alcohol or other drugs: those who have done the right thing even when it was the harder thing to do. All around us are people who have faced serious illness and yet have managed to demonstrate that living is more important than dying. All around us are people whose dreams have been shattered; whose fortunes have disappeared, whose expectations have been dashed; and yet all around us are people who are not holding on to the past, but saying yes to life. Each story of life over death is a repetition of the Easter story.

This is why Easter is so important. Each of us must learn to hold onto life and let go of death. This is why I chose to read these words from e.e. Cummings: “(I who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun’s birthday, this is the birth of life and of love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth.” After the dark winter months, after the dark night of our souls, with the coming of spring we are indeed alive again.

I once heard an African-American Baptist preacher talk about the connection between Good Friday and Easter. His refrain throughout the sermon was “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming.” When it’s the Good Friday of our souls we are alone, isolated and full of despair. But when Sunday comes we are alive again and open to the warmth of community, the love of others and the hope that comes with being fully alive.

When our children are involved in dangerous behavior it’s Friday; but when they are healthy again, it’s Sunday. When someone loses their job, it’s Friday; but when your back to work, it’s Sunday. When a loved one dies it’s Friday; but when you can let go of the bad memories and embrace the good; it’s Sunday.

Today is Easter Sunday. The pain of Friday is past. The dark days of winter are past. The hope of spring is present.

The little deaths we experience every day when a child goes back to school, when we talk to an aging parent not knowing how much longer we can just chat, when a pet dies, a friend moves to a new city, a favorite sweater finally must go because it is worn beyond giving even to the salvation Army—these little deaths each hurt, each cause us to grieve; each make us aware of our own mortality.

Today is Sunday. The pain of Friday is past. Let us resolve to put all of our resentments, all of our failures, and all of our broken relationships behind us. Let us look forward to the healing, the reconciliation, and the hope that is the message of this day.

“If nothing else,” writes Carl Nelson, “If nothing else Easter is a season celebrating the dividends of one’s hope. It’s not a celebration of hope itself, but of its first fruits—early blooming flowers, budding trees, returning birds. Endlessly without fail, the natural world renews itself following the barrenness of winter.” He continues, “And, too, in the less tangible world of human emotions, we are periodically renewed. Out of tragedy often comes a chastened spirit; out of hate, an ability to love. Beneath the myth and ceremonies of every land and culture, this seems to be the message of the season. Take heart! For hope inevitably will bring about springtime in the human spirit.”

Indeed, take heart, friends, for the goodness in life will always win out over death.

Amen