Sermons
When We Are Afraid
“When We Are Afraid” based on Isaiah 65:17-25 and Mark 16:1-8

(2024 Easter Altar)
I love Easter! I love Easter here with the Floral Cross and brass accompaniment and space for good theology. I love “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” with a passion that is a little weird. I have this memory of closing down in person worship in 2020 early in Lent and thinking to myself, “at least we’ll be back by Easter” and then gathering in person for the first time for Easter sunrise in 2021 and all of that has helped me attend to the true and utter delight that is worshipping God TOGETHER on Easter morning. I don’t take it for granted, and I try to savor it more than ever.
This year, when I sat down to write our worship service, and read the liturgy for Lighting the Candle of Peace, Hope, and Justice I found I simply didn’t want to include it. I didn’t want to start EASTER worship talking about Salvadoran Prisons that function as Concentration Camps. I even, I’ll admit, wondered if I could just… not. If we could do that liturgy next week and this week just have a “really nice Easter.”
I’m not proud of that instinct, but I’m telling you about it because I want to be honest. I didn’t want the world’s ugliness to interfere with the holiday where we celebrate that God is more powerful than the world’s ugliness.
Anyway, I didn’t follow that instinct, and we did read the liturgy for Lighting the Candle of Peace, Hope, and Justice and so here we are with a beautiful floral cross surrounded by stunning music and we started worship talking about people who have been trafficked to inhumane Salvadoran Concentration Camps. It is possible that you, too, didn’t want to, didn’t like it, wish we hadn’t. It isn’t really that strange of a human experience to want some unbridled joy on a holiday in the midst of struggles.
That said, the Easter stories we read start in the world’s ugliness. Easter doesn’t come out of joy and remain in joy, it starts in grief, fear, and dismay. In Mark, the women waited until the Sabbath was over to anoint Jesus’ body. To engage in the rituals of letting go. They had lost their friend, their teacher, their companion, their linchpin. (And in the case of Mary Magdalene, tradition wonders if that also included her husband and/or lover.)
Mark says that they were wondering about the gravestone as they walked. I’m curious about that. I wonder if it is simply a literary device put in place so we can notice the power of the metaphor of the stone being rolled away. Because, if we are pragmatic about it we would be able to notice that:
1. The stone was rolled into place and meant to be able to be rolled away, so it WAS mobile.
2. There were three of them, and three people can coordinate efforts.
3. If they really were going there alone as the three of them, presumably they assumed they could move the stone. If they didn’t think they could, they’d have brought someone else with them.
4. It just fits that a male writer would think about women’s weakness, whereas women are quite capable human beings.
Anyway, that’s a bit of an aside, I do think it is just a literary device. Truthfully, I think the stone itself is a literary device. The first Easter involved many of Jesus’ followers having some sort of profound experience of the continuation of Jesus in the world that shook them out of their grief AND their fear and empowered them to continue his ministry in the world. They became as committed to truth, to empowering the disempowered, to praying and connecting with God, and to following God faithfully no matter the consequences as Jesus had been.
No one knows what happened that first Easter. Maybe there was a shared vision, maybe a shared dream or a series of dreams, maybe someone just had an ah-ha moment and then it caught, maybe some quiet conversations ended up being transformational. Of course, while we’re putting maybes out there, maybe people encountered an empty tomb and instead of assuming grave robbers they assumed resurrection. I wasn’t there. But the specifics of how God transformed the lives of the disciples on Easter isn’t the interesting part to me, it is the transformation itself I am invested in.
I do know that SOMETHING happened and that SOMETHING was transformational and long lasting. Those who had scattered to the wind ended up becoming the steady rocks on which the church was built. AND, that something has been passed down to us, so that when we talk about the Church as the Body of Christ, we too are claiming that Jesus’ life did not end at his crucifixion because we too are able to continue his life and ministry in the world.
But, with that SOMETHING that happened, which was probably really hard to actually explain in normal human language (because that’s how God stuff works… and often why people are a little hesitant to talk about God stuff with others because it is so hard to convey), the way it came to be talked about was with an empty tomb. That was the metaphor that worked best, and must have felt closest to what they’d experienced. I see it, they were having all the “normal” experiences of grief and dismay, the ones that come both with losing someone you love, and with seeing the ugly power of the Empire’s violence up close and it CHANGED for them. They stopped feeling like he was gone and started feeling like he was with them. This is also, at least in the gospel of John, the way the Holy Spirit is described – as the one that showed up when Jesus left and filled that void.
They were sad, and then they weren’t. The world seemed like it ended, and then it came back! The power of violence stopped Jesus, but not for very long at all! It FITS this idea of he was dead and then he… wasn’t.
And so we have stories of empty tombs and rocks rolled away because it is the best way to state the inexplicable experience of transformation they had. So I’ll let go of Mark’s presumptions about women’s capacity to move heavy things and move on. Mark, or at least this first, original ending of Mark, has the best ending of all the gospels. We’re told those women who’d arrived sad and experienced the inexplicable left FLEEING and told NO ONE. Clearly, we know that not to be true BECAUSE WE ARE HEARING THE STORY, but it sets each of us up as a disciple to fill the space the women left. If they were afraid and told no one, will we be like them, or will we participate in telling the story so it gets heard? And, I particular, will we be stopped by fear or will we find the courage to respond with faith and love?
Easter exists in the midst of real life, of Empires killing innocent men, of the use of power to intimidate, and the work to separate people from each other. Jesus did this amazing work in reminding people that God was with them, and they were with each other. He took what the powers separated and reminded the people they could be for each other and do much better together. It was the power of his ability to connect to people, to connect people to God, and to connect people to each other that created such a disturbance that he ended up being killed as a revolutionary. Because the Empire does better when the people are separate and afraid. But God does better when the people are connected and courageous.
God meets us in the midst of the reality of life. God knows about domination systems, Empires, the powerful trying to break people apart, intimidate tactics, and lies, and God knows about injustice, racial profiling, and concentration camps. God knows. God has been through it before. God knows exactly how people can harm and kill each other.
But God, also, knows the rest of the human story. God knows about systems of equality and equity, about self-governance, about compassion and empathy, about solidarity. God knows about peace, justice, and hope. God knows about HEALING, and human connection across differences, and the work to create a world of justice and mercy. God knows about apologies and reconciliation, about truth telling and its power, and about means of grace and their power to transform.
When violence has its way, we can trust that God is at work to find the ways of kindness, compassion, healing, and restoration. When brokenness comes into being, we can trust that God is at work to smooth rough edges, to mold together broken pieces, and to create something anew. When death has its way, we can trust that God is STILL at work, finding ways to plant life and love despite it all.
There is nothing at all that is OK about people being trafficked to concentration camps. Nothing. It is completely and utterly immoral and atrocious. And, God is also not a peace with what has happened, and is working to change it. All the people motivated to speak up, to show up, to write, to call for change are a part of God’s work in the world. We don’t yet know WHEN the love of God and acts of compassion will change this reality. We know it has ALREADY been far too long, but we know that the love of God and acts of compassion WILL change this reality because God is not at peace with this, and the people of God are not at peace with this.
We say and shout and sing Alleluias today, praising God for God’s transforming power that we see in Easter and all around us. There is more work to be done, but Easter reminds us that God is at work and we are able to make a difference with God. LOVE WILL WIN IN THE END. That’s the miraculous reality the early Christians were trying to tell us about with an empty tomb and rolled away stone. That even death wasn’t able to stop God’s work in Jesus, God’s work of compassion, justice, and hope. Given all that, dear ones, I believe stones are about to ROLL. Thanks be to God. Amen
April 20, 2025 – Easter
Rev. Sara E. Baron
First United Methodist Church of Schenectady
603 State St. Schenectady, NY 12305
Pronouns: she/her/hers
http://fumcschenectady.org/
https://www.facebook.com/FUMCSchenectady








