**sermon art: Women at the Tomb by Graham Braddock
Pastor Caitlin Trussell with Augustana Lutheran Church (Denver) on April 20, 2025
[sermon begins after the Bible reading]
Luke 24:1-12 On the first day of the week, at early dawn, [the women] came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. 2 They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in, they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. 5 The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” 8 Then they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. 11 But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. 12 But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened.
[sermon begins]
Where’s the BODY?! Jesus’ BODY? Did someone take Jesus? Where did they put him? Is any BODY there?! The perplexed women—Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary mother of James and the others—saw so much as part of Jesus’ ministry, especially in those last few days. They watched Jesus be put to death on a cross by politically and religiously powerful people. They watched Joseph of Arimathea take Jesus off the cross and put him in the tomb. They packed spices and ointments with which they’d return after resting on the Sabbath “according to the commandment.”[1]
The women were faithful, courageous, and diligent through the previous days of tragedy, confusion, and grief. When so many disciples fled, or otherwise fell apart, these women stayed and saw it all. But the BODY is gone! There was no BODY to see. No BODY to tend. They had seen Jesus’ body laid in the tomb, so they were ready to anoint his body with oil and spices, to say thank you for his life, and to say a loving goodbye after his death. Instead, they encounter a couple of razzle dazzle dudes of the divine kind. The women react to their dazzling divinity by bowing their faces to the ground.
Although, what the two dazzling men do next is fairly ordinary. They remind the women what Jesus taught them when he was alive. And what he taught them fits with what they saw him go through on the cross. The women saw ungodly violence and sifted their experiences through what Jesus said before he died, and through what the two dazzling dudes in the tomb are saying now. Their reminder makes sense of things. That’s way this works. We hear something that gives our experience a new or different meaning—not explaining the grief away or making heinous suffering magically better—but gleaning from suffering and grief in a way that feels like a gift.
This gift of gleaning is no small thing. The Dalai Lama of Tibetan Buddhism and Desmond Tutu of Anglican Christianity reflected together on joy and suffering from their respective traditions.[2] These two wizened elders talked about living in deep joy even though we experience suffering. Neither they, nor any of us here, must go very far personally or culturally to find tragedy, confusion, and grief. From personal illness to the death of a loved one, to international genocide, to innocent immigrants deported to horrific prisons, to queer youth vilified or worse, to whatever you’d like to add to the list, we totally get tragedy and grief. We get it deep in our gut, in our heartache, in our BODY.
Our bodies just aren’t designed to hold it all. Our bodies are designed to hold a village-worth of news, not a world’s worth of news. It’s tempting to numb our suffering in the sizzle-and-fizzle dopamine cycle of food, alcohol, or doom-scrolling as we try to make our bodies feel better. The problem with the sizzle-and-fizzle strategy is that we humans tend to put those behaviors on repeat. We entomb ourselves in the things that bring temporary relief. Tombs of our own making that wound our bodies, isolate us from each other, and steal our joy.
Living in deep joy while we experience suffering SOUNDS nice. Actually, a little better than nice. And lots better than how we often handle suffering. Take Jesus’ apostles who weren’t at the tomb with the women. They were hiding out. Not unusual in dark times to lay low and go silent. They too had been through terror and grief in the last three days. From their vantage point, of course Jesus’ BODY was still in the tomb. They knew he’d died. They’re terrified that they’re next in line for the death penalty. When Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and the others shared what they had heard at the tomb, the apostles called it an “idle tale”—which is a G-rated translation of that Greek word, by the way. BODIES don’t just disappear, and they certainly don’t just rise. Except…there’s the apostle Peter.
The very same Peter who denied that he knew Jesus three times during Jesus’ crucifixion trial. Peter ran to the tomb despite the women’s “idle tale.” Perhaps he was more concerned that the women were telling the truth, worrying what his friend Jesus would say about Peter’s denials during the trial. It could be hope or fear or both that sent Peter running to the tomb to see if any BODY is there.
Regardless, Peter’s dash to the tomb depended on the women’s story. That can be a frustrating thing about resurrection faith. We have no access to it outside of the witness of other people, the witness of the wider church that is also called the BODY of Christ.[3] Like Peter, we’re dependent on each other for resurrection faith. Like Peter looking into the tomb himself, ultimately the witness of the church is not enough, and people need their own encounters with Jesus and the empty tomb.
Where our individual experiences connect with the resurrection faith of the church is part of what the empty tomb is about. Like Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Peter, we do not solve the mystery, we enter the mystery of resurrection faith – God bringing us through cross and tomb into new life because we are God’s children, broken and beloved, resurrected into the BODY of Christ through Jesus’ death and resurrection. Resurrection faith trusts that there is enough for every BODY—enough resources, enough love, enough life—as we extend Christ’s arms of love and grace, so that Jesus’ joyous welcome through us nourishes the world into community.
New life literally abounds as Easter and Spring happen simultaneously this year. The new snow soaks into tree roots. Perennials pop up green and budding while birds fly back to our latitude for nesting and nectar. Perhaps your suffering, confusion, and grief make it difficult to see life at all, to feel any joy. Life doesn’t conveniently align with the season of the earth or the season of the church. One gift of the BODY of Christ is that the prayers, practices, and people of the church’s resurrection faith cocoon us while we grieve or heal, holding space for joy until we can feel it once more. When we’re too broken to pray, our church community prays for us as the risen BODY of Christ for each other and for the world. Our BODIES are not designed to hold it all, BUT the BODY of Christ, the church, is designed to hold it together.
On a wider scale, being the church, the BODY of Christ, calls us to be the love that we receive however imperfectly we reveal that love. We donate land for affordable homes just down the hill. We welcome the stranger with our refugee support teams. We pray for our enemies while holding them accountable for the dignity of each child of God. And we love our neighbors as ourselves by accompanying them in advocacy and amplifying their voices with our own.
The good news of Easter reminds us that God loves the world and does not leave us alone – the dazzling men in the tomb reminded the women that Jesus had already told them this good news; the apostles heard the good news of the resurrection from Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and the others; and today, Easter Sunday, and for the next 50 days of the Easter season, we remind each other that there is good news of defiant joy and hope in the face of suffering.
Our suffering is joined by the risen Christ who knows suffering personally, who rolls open the tombs we make for ourselves, and draws us into new life, into the BODY of Christ. Where’s the BODY? Is any BODY there?! Yes. Right here. We are the BODY made new yet again today in community from the newest visitors to the longest time members. God brings us through cross and tomb into the joy of new life solely because we are beloved children of God. Each one of us, EVERY BODY, is unconditionally beloved. By that very love, you are welcome here. The church gets to be the love we receive for the sake of the world and remind everyone that they are loved, too. This means that there is nothing you can do or not do to make God love you anymore or any less. That’s the way unconditional love works. Happy Easter!
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[1] Luke 23:50-56
[2] Dalai Lama, Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Abrams. The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World. (New York: Avery, 2016).
[3] Matthew Skinner, Professor of New Testament, Luther Seminary. Podcast on Bible readings for Easter Sunday, April 21, 2019. https://www.workingpreacher.org/brainwave.aspx?podcast_id=1129
