Text:  Mark 16:1-8 (1 Corinthians 15:19-28)                                                U The Feast of the Resurrection

The Fear of Finding Things Open

            In the name of him who by his death conquered death for us, dear friends in Christ: Some months back in a sermon message, I spoke of having come across a rather extensive list of phobias on the internet.  Perhaps some of you remember that (or maybe I’m only fooling myself by thinking that someone was paying attention).  But even if you don’t remember or, perish the thought, you missed that week, you probably already know that a phobia is an excessive fear of something.  Now, it’s entirely appropriate to have a certain amount of fear some things.  The list I saw included such phobias as the fear of rabid dogs, of drinking poison, and of contracting certain fatal diseases. You’re supposed to have a healthy apprehension of such things – that’s what helps you to avoid them.  Of course what makes it a phobia instead of a normal, healthy fear is that with a phobia the dread of whatever it is becomes irrational, paralyzing, and completely overwhelming.

Still, I think if you had a phobia with respect to something that really could conceivably hurt you, you could probably still get by in the world all right.  I mean, if you over-react to seeing a spider, knowing that spiders do bite and that some are dangerous, people who know you will get used to it.  But some of the things listed for which people demonstrate phobic behavior are really way out there.  Just for example, some people are deathly afraid of flowers.  It’s called Anthophobia.  But c’mon, what’s a flower going to do to you? Then there’s Barophobia, which is the fear gravity.  You’d think it would make more sense to be afraid of losing gravity, because that’s what holds you to the earth.  I guess the only way for a barophobic person to feel secure would be to become an astronaut permanently assigned to an orbiting space station – but it’s a catch-22, because such a person would never pass the psychological tests necessary to become an astronaut.  Oh well.  One that I really thought was funny was Alektorophobia, which is the fear of chickens.  Like flowers, chickens have never struck me as being particularly ferocious … but imagine going through life being called chicken of chickens.

            Well, anyway, inspired by something suggested in today’s Gospel reading, I went back to look at the phobia list this last week, and I was surprised that something I think has the potential to be truly frightening was not listed.  I call it the fear of finding things open.  And if I understand the way the nomenclature works, that would turn out be something along the lines of eurekanoigophobia.  But whatever it might be called, think about it:  after returning home after several days away, one thing you don’t want to find is the front door of your home standing open.  That could really cause some concern.  You’d be thinking, how long has it been like that?  Who’s been inside?  What might they have they taken?  Or how about going into the kitchen and finding that the door to the refrigerator or freezer has been left open for who-knows-how-long?  What might have spoiled or thawed out?  Perhaps some of you who raise livestock can relate to the feeling that comes over you when you come along and discover that a gate has been left open.  Isn’t it amazing that no matter how dumb animals are, or how large an area they’re confined in, they seem to know in an instant when a gate fails to latch properly? Or how about that jar of home canned green beans in the panty that opens way too easily?  Are you going to serve those for supper and risk a case of botulism poisoning?  (Maybe it depends on who will be dining with you, eh?)  Or what about that bottle of aspirin you bought only to discover that the safety seal wasn’t quite sealed.  After the infamous Tylenol case a few years back, are you going to take one of those for your headache?  I don’t think so.

You see, this fear of finding things open would be at least a legitimate phobia in that there’s something there worth being afraid of.  But if you’re not convinced yet, I’ll give a couple more examples.  Here’s one I’m a bit reluctant to mention, but it happened a few years back that in preparation for a long drive, I changed the oil on the family van.  Then after driving for several hundred miles, I pulled over for a break only to notice the very strong smell of burning oil.  Yes, you guessed it:  I had neglected to put the oil cap back on.  The good news is that after all that distance it was only about a quart low … but it sure made a mess under the hood.  One more:  a friend of mine once told me about how this fellow he knew had to address a group of business people from a rival company.  There had been some bad blood in their dealings in the past, and so he was pretty nervous about meeting with them; but as he’s doing the presentation, he was surprised at how well things were going.  They seemed to be an especially jolly bunch who just laughed and laughed at his jokes – even the dumb ones.  He thought maybe he had them all pegged wrong.  It was only afterward that he discovered that the whole time he was making his pitch, his fly was open.

Okay, my point is this: there are some things out there that you definitely want to find closed.  That’s the way they’re supposed to be.  And when you find them unexpectedly open, it’s something to worry about.  Now, whether or not the fear of finding things open deserves to have a phobia officially named after it, I don’t know; and it really doesn’t matter.  But obviously there are degrees or levels of concern here.  That is, there are some things that you don’t want to find open more than others.  And I think we’d all agree that somewhere near the very top of that list are tombs.  If anything is meant to be kept closed, it’s the graves of those who have died. There is something sacred about them. Their sealing is meant to be final.  To open a tomb without proper purpose and authorization is more than just wrong, it’s sacrilegious … it’s an act of defilement.

And with this in mind, we can begin to appreciate some of the horror and fear that must have swept over the three women who came to the tomb of Jesus that first Easter morning. He had been hastily buried late Friday afternoon.  Joseph of Arimathea had secured permission from Pilate to take custody of the body then still nailed to the cross.  As soon as he did, he and Nicodemus had done something of a rush job, getting the shattered corpse down and wrapping it in spices and strips of linen according to the Jewish custom.  They had to work quickly because the Sabbath began at sunset, and once it began no work of any kind was allowed.  Fortunately, some months before, Joseph had ordered the excavation of a new family tomb in a limestone hillside not far from the site of crucifixion.  The two men were able to get the body of Jesus there in time so that just as the light of day was waning, they were able to place it safely inside and roll the heavy stone door in front of the entry.  With a solid, final thud they heard it drop into the key slot that secured it in its place.

The women had stood off at a distance watching them.  They didn’t know Joseph or Nicodemus very well, and they had good reasons not to trust them.  They were both members of the high council – the same group of leaders who had condemned Jesus to death and handed him over to the Romans.  They had also been secret followers of Jesus.  They didn’t agree with the sentence handed down on him by the rest of their group; but they’d been afraid to openly associate themselves with him.  They were intimidated into silence while he lived, fearing for themselves and their noble reputations.  Now, perhaps shamed by their failure to speak in his behalf, they did the only act of kindness that remained to be done for him in order to soothe their accusing consciences.

The women, of course, could not have known this.  All they knew was that these two high ranking strangers had, for unexplained motives of their own, taken the body of Jesus and buried him in a hurry.  Because they had loved their Lord, they wanted to make sure that the job was completed correctly.  So they had spent the Sabbath day preparing the spices they would use to anoint his body. Now that the Sabbath was over, they gathered just before sunrise and they set out together to go to the tomb—which they expected to find thoroughly closed and tightly sealed.

In fact, they were so certain that it would be closed that as they went on their way they wondered aloud how they were going to open it.  The stone was very heavy, and it had taken two grown men to maneuver it into its place – and that involved rolling it down into the key slot, which was several inches deep. Now it would have to be rolled up and out of that slot, so it would take quite a bit more effort to move it.  Knowing that they would not be equal to the task by themselves, they worried about whether they would find someone who might assist them.

But when they approached the tomb they were shocked to discover that that was the wrong thing to be worried about.  The stone had already been cast aside, and the gaping black mouth of the tomb was standing open before them.  It must have been a truly terrifying sight.  Imagine what they would have been thinking:  what frightening thoughts would have passed through their heads.  Who would do this?  What were they up to?  What might they have done to the body?  What critters or other vermin might have gotten in there?  The possibilities would have been many; but none of the ones they would have come up with would have been good.  It must have been with filled with a sense of revulsion and foreboding that they came close enough to actually peer inside, bracing themselves to deal with and attempt to repair as best they could whatever gruesome sight met them.

And I think that that would have made the shock and surprise of what they did find that much more exaggerated.  They’re expecting to find something unspeakably horrible.  They’ve taken a moment to mentally prepare for it.  It’s going to be awful, but now that they have in mind what to expect, they’re ready to take it in.  But instead of the scene of horror they anticipated, here’s this smiling young man dressed in an impeccable, dazzling white robe sitting there peacefully as if he’s just been waiting for someone to come along and stick their head inside the tomb.  And he says, of all things, “Don’t be alarmed.”  And the word he uses there actually means “Don’t be shocked or surprised.” And the way he says it is like they’re supposed to respond, “Oh, right, how foolish we are.  We should have seen this coming.”

And there is a sense in which that’s true.  Jesus had told them repeatedly what to expect.  He told them that he had to be arrested, tried, condemned, and crucified; and that he would rise from the dead on the third day.  But they really hadn’t listened to him.  And the few times they did listen, they hadn’t believed him.  What he kept telling them didn’t fit in with their preconceived notions about what to expect.  And on this particular morning, precisely because they hadn’t believed him, what they expected to find was a corpse contained in a closed tomb. They were counting on it.  After all, that’s what tombs are supposed to be: closed up and sealed.  Forever.  They thought that to find one open would be a frightening thing indeed.

And they were frightened. Even after the angel had spoken to them, they remained frightened.  Despite what Jesus had told them and the good news they heard from the angel saying that he had risen from the dead, the Gospel lesson this morning ends with these less than encouraging words:  “Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb.  They said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.” But they need not have been, not any more.  In fact, although they didn’t quite understand or believe it yet, because they found this particular tomb open, they really didn’t need to fear anything ever again.  And sometimes I wonder if we really understand and believe that.

As I looked over the list of phobias, all those things that people find so terrifying, it occurred to me that the worst thing that any one of those threats, real or imagined, might do to you is kill you.  Death is the greatest fear that we all have.  Death, and of course, the judgment that follows.  But in the open tomb of Jesus, instead of finding a defiled corpse like they thought they would, the women discovered a messenger sent from God with an important message for us all.  The upshot of this message is what Paul is dealing with in today’s Epistle reading. And what he says is this:  because Jesus Christ has risen from the dead, so too will you.  You can be absolutely sure of it.  Christ Jesus is the first fruits of those who have fallen into the sleep of death.  What that means is that because on this day his tomb was found open, you can be certain that the day will come when all the tombs will be found open, and those who sleep in the dust of the earth will rise and live again.

What’s more, those who lived their lives trusting in the sacrifice that Jesus made for the sins of the world – those who by faith are found in him – will rise to discover that they have already been judged.  Their judgment fell on Christ when he suffered on the cross and was forsaken and damned by his Father.  And because he paid the entire penalty of their sins, they are declared righteous in the sight of God through faith in him.  You believe that.  And because you do, there is nothing you ever need fear not now, not in the future, and not when you face the hour of death.  And if the day ever comes that your loved ones place you in the tomb, let them know in advance not to get too carried away in the task because it’s a job that’s going to be undone.

Christ is risen!  He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!  Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria!