Orinda Community Church
Easter Sunrise Homily, March 23, 2008

“He has been raised; he is not here.”
Kirk R. Thomas, Reading

The gospel stories of the resurrection of Jesus are narratives of events.  What is missing are the stories of the participants, the private thoughts and opinions of the witnesses, people like you and me.  Here are my conjectures of such thoughts and feelings of a few of the people who witnessed the events of Easter morning:

THE LAMENT OF LAZARUS:

I’m a very old man now, nearing the end of my unexpectedly long life—a life that has been so amazing!  But I’m ready to go now.  Not like before when Jesus returned me from the dead.
You see, my two sisters, Mary and Martha, and I had been followers of Jesus since John baptized him in the Jordan.  Since we live in Bethany, 2 miles from Jerusalem, he and his companions would stay with us when they came down from Galilee to Jerusalem.
I had fallen gravely ill, you see.  They say that I even died and was entombed in a sealed cave for 4 days.  They tell me that Jesus wept when he heard of my death.
I don’t know, really.  I just remember hearing Jesus calling to me from far way, “Lazarus, come out.”  And I arose and followed that loving voice right out into the light of a new life.
Then there was the time my sister Mary anointed him with oil, wiping him with her hair.  Judas was so angry as he thought it should have been sold for the poor.  But Jesus said that Mary anointed him for his burial.  We didn’t know what that meant at the time.
When Jesus and his followers came to Jerusalem for the Passover, they stayed with Mary, Martha and I in nearby Bethany, while coming and going into the city through the olive garden.
People kept pointing to me on the street as one he had brought back from the grave.  Later I heard that the Temple priests planned to put me to death as well.
Sometimes I wish they had.  Then I wouldn’t have had to watch Jesus put to death on the cross.  We were shocked and so angry and outraged.  But mostly we were devastated that our wonderful rabbi was taken from us.
How could he have brought me back from life and not saved his own?
Then my sisters brought me the amazing news that Jesus wasn’t dead after all.  He had left his tomb, as I had left mine, and he was appearing to his followers.
My grief turned to joy.  Of all people, I should have known that Jesus had power over death!

PONTIUS PILATE’S WIFE

What do I, Claudia Procula, wife of Pontius Pilate, remember of those strange few days in Jerusalem?
Well, the emperor sent Pilate to be governor of the Judaean province in order to keep the lid on the perpetual restlessness there.  The unrest always increased during the Jewish holy days, when pilgrims poured into Jerusalem from all over Judea, other provinces, and other parts of the Empire.
Pilate was preoccupied with plans for the deployment of the security forces, so you can imagine his irritation when a large delegation arrived from the Sanhedrin to complain about an itinerant rabbi.
You see, my Jewish servant girl, Rachel, kept me informed about the excitement in the city, especially about the arrival of a holy man from the north who was said to be wiser than the priests and to have healed the sick and raised the dead.  Rachel would tell me what Jesus said, and I thought that his words were marvelous.
They asked Pilate to condemn the man, but he told them to judge him according to their own law.  Since this Jesus was a Galilean, Pilate sent him to Herod Antipas who ruled that area, but Herod found no guilt in him either, so Pilate planned to have Jesus whipped and released.
But the Jews demanded that he be punished for breaking their religious law, and Pilate, fearing a riot, had the crowd choose between Jesus and another malcontent.  I sent word to Pilate through a servant that he should have nothing to do with that innocent man, as I had troubling dreams about him the previous night.  Pilate wiped his hands in a basin of water to indicate that the blood of Jesus was not upon his hands.
How shocked I was when the Jews demanded that Jesus be crucified!  What had he done that was so terrible?  Given them hope?  Healed them and told them to love each other?  And for this they wanted to kill him?  But, since the law required Romans to execute, our legions took him away to be crucified outside the gates.
I felt ill at ease for the next two days, although Pilate seemed either to forget about the incident or ignore it altogether.  He was always good at that.
Then we got word that Jesus’ body was missing from its tomb!  Pilate was furious.  Those guards were taken to task, that’s for sure.  His followers said that he rose up from the dead and that they saw him alive.  They continued to meet in Jerusalem even after we left to return to Rome.
Although these events happened long ago—and pale compared to the tumult in Rome and in the Empire, and the uprising in the Judean province long after we left—I could never forget them.
I couldn’t forget that sadly resigned and dignified Jewish teacher Pilate crucified.  Maybe he was a king in a sense.  He certainly had the courage of one.  He haunts my dreams even now.
There is a small group of Jesus Jews in Rome, and I secretly am meeting with them.

THE CENTURION

My name is Flavius.
The authorities assigned me to the detail of crucifying the Jew who had troubled the Temple priests.
They gave me the job because I knew this Jew named Jesus.  He came from the hill town of Narzareth, to the west of the Sea of Tiberias, near where we were stationed.
His father was a carpenter, but his cousin was John, the wild holy man who baptized people in the Jordan River, but whom Herod beheaded.
I became friends with the Jews in the town of Tiberias and helped them build their synagogue.  They told me about Jesus—that he was preaching to throngs of people and had healed many.
When my dear servant lay dying, I sent word to this Jesus asking him to heal my servant by just saying the word, since I knew that he would be defiled to enter my house.
Jesus declared that my faith had healed my servant, and immediately my servant was well.
Then we were sent to the Jewish capital of Jerusalem to guard against riots during their holy days.  Little did I realize that I would have to put the good rabbi to death!
We arrested Jesus at Gethsemane and brought him before the governor.  I watched them question him.  Later Jesus was sent to the barracks where they mocked and beat him, against my express orders.
They made him carry part of his cross through the streets but, as the beating had weakened him, I impressed a Cyrenian bystander to help him carry it.
When my soldiers crucified Jesus together with two thieves, I had to stay distant so they would not see how upset I felt.  By some miracle, Jesus died quickly in a few hours instead of the many days that it usually takes.  And just as well too because the priests wanted the legs of the three men to be broken so they would die immediately and be buried before the sun set and the holy day began.  But Jesus was already dead so this was not necessary.
My Jewish friends told me that a member of the Sanhedrin named Joseph from the town of Arimathea was a secret disciple, so I sent him word to ask Pilate for Jesus’ body.  That is how Jesus came to be buried in the newly-hewn tomb nearby in the quarry.
My soldiers were ordered to guard the tomb so the body could not be taken.  But early in the morning I was called there by one of the guards who told me that the body had disappeared.  Somehow, both guards had passed out and when they came to they saw the stone was rolled away and the body was gone.
“Amazing,” I thought.  Jesus had thwarted both Pilate and the priests.  He had arisen from that tomb as he promised he would.  If he could save my servant from afar, why not cheat death himself?  Surely, this man was the chosen one of God!  I was quietly delighted.
Of course, Pilate was furious with me, so I was sent away to another post in distant Britain.  Not as bad as those two guards who were sent to the galleys.  But in Britain my servant and I eventually managed to obtain a large villa, and we joined a small group of Jews who followed the ways of the Nazarene.  Those days in Galilee and Judea had changed our lives forever.

THE YOUNG DISCIPLE

I was the one Jesus loved in a special way.  I followed him everywhere, and stayed as close to him as anyone could be.

I was reclining with him at the Passover supper when he said, “One of you will betray me.”  Peter asked me to ask him, “Lord, who is it?  Jesus said it was the one to whom he would give the dipped bread, which was Judas son of Simon Iscariot.

I fell asleep like the others when he insisted on spending the night in the Garden of Gethsemane.  I awoke in confusion when I realized that guards and police were everywhere and Jesus was being taken away.  When they lunged for me they grabbed at my loin cloth but I tore free and ran away naked into the night.

Eventually, Simon Peter and I followed as they took Jesus to the high priest.  Since I was known to the family of Caiaphas, I entered the courtyard, but Peter could not enter the gate.  So I went out, spoke to the woman who guarded the gate, and brought Peter in.  I heard that woman say to Peter, “Are you not also one of the man’s disciples?” but Peter said, “I am not.”

When we saw that he was to be condemned, we fled in fear of our lives.  But I could not stay away.  I followed the crowd as he was paraded through the streets to his place of crucifixion outside the gates.  And I joined his mother and the other women as we watched him suffer.  How we wept.  At one point, Jesus saw his mother and me and said, “Woman, here is your son” and to me, “Here is your mother”  From that very moment, I took Mary into my own household.

The four of us watched as Jesus finally died—his mother Mary and her sister Mary and Mary Magdalene.  I cannot describe the honor of those hours.  We wailed in abject grief.

After the Passover Sabbath had ended, the women set out early in the morning for the tomb to complete the funereal anointing of herbs, oils and scents.  We men were just arising when Mary Magdalene burst into our rooms and wailed to me and Simon that,“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb and we do not know where they have laid him.”

Alarmed, Peter and I ran to the tomb together, but I outran Peter and arrived there first.  When I looked into the tomb I saw the linen wrappings, but I didn’t go in.  Peter went in and I followed when suddenly we both “saw and believed” although we did not yet know he had risen.  We were overcome with an immediate sense of calm assurance and peace.

After Peter and I left, Mary remained weeping outside the tomb.  She thought she saw two radiant men sitting inside.  Then she saw a gardener and asked him what had happened to Jesus.  When he replied, “Mary,” she suddenly realized it was Jesus.  When she returned to us the second time, she said, “I have seen the Lord” and told us her story.  We didn’t know what to think, but Peter and I believed her.

Later, after we returned to Galilee we were fishing in Sea when Jesus appeared to us and we broke the fast with him.  Peter asked Jesus about me and Jesus told him it was his will that I remain until he comes.