Rev. Kathryn Ransdell
Easter Sunday
"On how to change the ending"
Mark 16:1-8; Luke 21:1-12
You heard two versions of the same story today: in both stories, an empty tomb and a messenger. In Mark, the oldest of the gospels, the women fled in terror and amazement; they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid. In Luke, probably 40 years later, the women go from being perplexed as to why the stone is rolled away; then to terrified; but then they remembered, and they went home and told the others.
All thought it was an idle tale, except one--Peter--who ran to the tomb and what he found amazed him.
If nothing else, the fullness of their emotions gets me every time. Fear that leaves you speechless; being puzzled over how they will roll the stone and yet they faithfully go with the burial spices; terrified by the messengers; disciples who hear their report and think it an idle tale; and then Peter, the one who never quite got it, the one who then denied Jesus three times was amazed.
I live in my head so much that sometimes I wish I lived more fully into my emotions, not like wearing your heart on your sleeve, but being able to fully sink into what my heart is saying to my head and having my head listen to my heart every so often. 
It's like being around children, when they are not tired or hungry...they are fully in the present moment and fully living into their emotions of joy and happiness. In becoming grown-up, we detach from those emotions, cover them-up, learn to laugh politely, sit still and be good and decent citizens.
Our children's Christmas pageant comes from the beginning of Luke's gospel. We place our children in the role of Joseph and Mary, shepherds and wise men and sheep and donkeys, and we always expect at least one sheep to need his mom and one shepherd might need to make a run to the washroom, and there's always one boy who would rather be Mary than Joseph, so you just go with it.
Not only is this cute, but somehow it eases our over-holiday-stimulated selves and brings us happiness to see the kids...and somewhere in the midst of all that is holiness.
I've always wondered why when we allow our children to teach us the beginning of Luke, we also don't allow our children to teach us the ending of Luke. There is such a thing as Easter pageants, but we cast adults instead of children.
What would it mean for us adults to see four young girls carrying sachets of spices...a couple of the boys tussling over who gets to wear the sparkly white robe...to hear a young voice say, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?
How might it move our hearts when this group of young girls runs to find the little boys who are the disciples, some with runny noses, some waving to their parents, one who wants to go home...and then to hear one of the girls call out "Jesus is alive."
And then the young boy who is cast as Peter, runs to find the empty tomb, and he leaves amazed...probably skipping, jumping, cheering...
Somehow this is how it should be....there is happiness and holiness here...
And it's so different from the story of the gospel of Mark. 
When I'm given the chance to plan worship, I like to include a lot of big kids and little kids, and I like to do things that haven't been tried before. It started way back in seminary when I was the children's minister at Duke Chapel, a congregation and sanctuary that prided itself on excellent, traditional, and well-rehearsed worship services. I had about 12 children in the class, and all I knew was that sometime by the end of my year with them, I wanted the children to have the experience of singing in Sunday morning worship. Not possible, Not acceptable--this is not who we are...if we want children singing, we bring in a professional children's choir, not a bunch of kids led by a person who is not even a musician herself. But I kept asking and asking, until finally, we were given our chance. It was one Sunday...all 12 of us waiting in the wings until our cue...we walk out...and with a parent who was the pianist, we sang our song. I can't even remember what the song was, because in that moment, the beautiful, unrehearsed, squirmy children singing their hearts out, overwhelmed my heart.
And I remembered Jesus' words: Let the little children come unto me, for theirs is the Kingdom of God.
One lesson I learned that day...when we were waiting in the wings, and I was so nervous because I knew how much it took to even get this chance, and it felt like at the time so much was riding on this being "successful," that I gathered the children around me to have a prayer. And I prayed that God would take away our nervousness, fear, anxiousness and let us enjoy this time. After the prayer ended, and we were waiting a little bit longer in the hall, one of the dad's commented to me: you know that prayer you prayed? it wasn't for them; it was for you. The kids are happy and excited to sing; it is us adults who are nervous. What the kids want from you is for you to be happy and excited too.
Oh. I was living out the gospel of Mark, in complete terror, and the kids, were living in this amazement about what they were going to do.
One story; two versions: two very different endings: one in fear, the other in amazement.
One experience; two realities; two very different places of the heart: one --fear, the other -- happiness.
The poet Mary Oliver paints a beautiful picture with her poem, "poppies." the poppies throw into the air their bright orange flares. Against this beautiful image of them swaying in the wind as if they are levitating, she acknowledges that the indigos of darkness will come. For now, though, the green shines like a miracle and above everything else floats the yellow hair.
"Of course, nothings stops the cold...of course, loss is the great lesson."
Loss is the great lesson of Easter, which is why today doesn't make sense if we don't journey first through good Friday. We cannot refuse the lessons of loss. We cannot ignore them. We cannot debate the lessons of loss. 
It was the greatest lesson for those first followers. Did he really die? Because that's not how the ending was supposed to be. Good guy wins; bad guy loses. The Kingdom is to come, well, until your leader is taken, beaten, crucified and killed.
If we do not learn the lesson of loss, then we will end the story in fear...fear of losing more, fear of losing all, fear of trying, fear of failing, fear of succeeding.
He was supposed to live....each of us in our own ways have walked to a tomb--an ending--and we have told ourselves that story, "it shouldn't have ended that way."
It wasn't the empty tomb that changed history forever. Is the empty tomb proof of the resurrection? No. Even our Scriptures records the other reasons for why the tomb could have been empty: soldiers took the body; disciples took the body; and something involving aliens and Elvis.
Empty tombs don't prove anything except that not one of us will escape death.
What proves the resurrection is that they found the reality of an empty tomb, they encountered a messenger who said, "Remember how he told you when he was still in Galilee..." and then, verse 8 "Then they remembered his words."
Easter happened not when they found the empty tomb--that was just data, observations; Easter erupted when they remembered his words.
"In the beginning was the Word...so do not worry about your lives, what you will eat or drink or what you will wear...for in my Father's house are many rooms and I go to prepare a place for you and if I go to prepare a place for you I will take you to me...my peace I give to you, not as the world gives for I no longer call you strangers but friends...for a light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it.
Mary Oliver writes, "But I also say this: that light is an invitation to happiness and that happiness, when it's done right, is a kind of holiness, palpable and redemptive...I am washed and washed in the river of delight, and what are you going to do--what can you do about it--deep, blue night?
This is Easter...living in this place where you change the ending, and no longer being driven by fear of death, because instead of fear, it is a fact, and a fact is just that, an empty tomb, but it is in remembering what God says to us about who we are....resurrection happens. You can change the ending.
If you are living in the fear, by the power of the risen Lord, you can break through that fear because you remember that God said, "This day I set before you life and death: choose life."
There's lots of people living out their lives with a tired out ending. On the outside, they might look angry, or bitter, or mean, or unjust. On the inside, they are just afraid because someone or something told them right before they went out on the big grand stage of life, be afraid. So they've worked really hard their entire life masking that fear.
And then one ordinary day comes, a simple fact like an empty tomb becomes a place where remembering can happen, and deep inside that person comes that innocent voice of the child inside us all, "Jesus is alive."
And a happiness that done right is a kind of holiness begins to bubble in the soul, until it overcomes you, and a smile breaks out like you've never smiled before, and a laughter erupts like you've never laughed before, and a celebration begins like you've never celebrated before...
Easter is a grand celebration... Let the little child inside each one of us celebrate this good news.
Thanks be to God.
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