“Christ in Disguise”
Rev. Bob Olmstead  

 “…but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear,

  to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses,

and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead.” (Acts 10:40-41)

 “When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there,

but she did not know that it was Jesus.”   (John 20:14)

A first grade Sunday School teacher was talking to her class about Easter.  She asked them if they knew what Easter was about. Several eager hands shot up.  The first child said, “That’s when we put lights on the tree and give presents.” “No,” said the teacher, “That’s Christmas.”  Another child said, “I know. It’s when we go to the park and shoot off fireworks.” “That’s the Fourth of July,” the teacher answered. Finally the pastor’s kid raised his hand and the teacher breathed a sigh of relief. The boy said, “Easter is when we remember how Jesus was crucified and put in a tomb and a big stone put in front of it. And on Easter the stone is rolled away and Jesus comes out, and if he sees his shadow….” [1]  

How about it?  Did the risen Christ cast a shadow?

Jesus was buried in a rich man’s tomb.  It was nearby, sundown was approaching, and the rich man was a secret follower.  There was even a gardener.  On Easter morning grieving Mary looks full in the man’s face . . . and doesn’t recognize him.  She asks where they have taken the corpse.  Only when she hears him speak her name does she recognize the resurrected Christ. (John 20:11-18)

Two men walking the seven miles from Jerusalem to Emmaus are joined by a third – a man they’ve never seen before.  The three discuss the Bible and recent events in Jerusalem.  When they reach Emmaus the stranger prepares to go on alone but they invite him to join them for supper.  After all that talk it is only when he breaks bread that they recognize the resurrected Christ.  (Luke 24:13-25)

Their leader gone, several of the disciples return to fishing. An economic necessity I suppose.  A stranger stands on the shore in the light of dawn and points, showing them where to let down their nets.  They bring in their catch.  The man cooks their breakfast there on the beach; they know in their hearts who it is but they wait for him to speak before acknowledging it.  (John 21:1-14)

Do you notice a pattern? The resurrected Christ appears as a gardener up early to prune the roses, as a vagabond on the road to Emmaus, as a lone figure on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias offering fishermen free advice. 

            What’s the lesson here? Christ is teaching his friends that he will be with them always - as he promised - but it will be in the world at large and in the faces of strangers. [2]

I have read that Rembrandt painted multiple renditions of the mysterious meal after the walk to Emmaus when two disciples realize they are entertaining the risen Christ.  As a young man Rembrandt painted the scene several times, using his fabulous ability to create dramatic lighting effects – infusing the entire scene with mystery and magic.  As Rembrandt matured he painted the scene yet again, but he abandoned the special lighting effects; there is only the awakening reflected in the eyes of the suddenly aware disciples.  In Rembrandt’s final painting of this event you see the single disciple’s dawning recognition glimmering in the light of one eye at the very moment a servant offers a plate of food to the guest and appears to see nothing remarkable about him. [3]

Christ will be with us always - as he promised - but it will be in the world at large and in the faces of strangers.  Some will see it; many will not.

To understand the resurrection we must stop pouring over the coroner’s report and focus instead on the gleam of recognition in a disciple’s eye.

The little boy in the story may have been onto something.  If you have ever been up to watch the dawn then you know that shadows are longest just as the light first appears.
           

Easter is the dawn of a new light on the horizon of history, and it makes the shadows appear all the longer.

September 11 still casts its long shadow. Some lost loved ones, some found their jobs impacted.  Most of us gulped down tears of compassion, fed for a while on stories of human heroism and then went on about our business.  What other options were there?

Well, imagine if your ‘business’ was being a comedian?  That’s how Jon Stewart makes his living.  He’s a comedian.  That’s how he puts bread on the table.  I preach sermons; he makes people laugh.  What was he supposed to do in the days and weeks following September 11?  That question makes for a fascinating article in a recent New Yorker magazine.

He reflects on when it felt OK for people to laugh again.  He ponders how he felt making people laugh.  He ruminates about the role of laughter in a tragic world.  Jon Stewart, comedian, nine days after September 11, gave one of the finest sermons you will ever hear.  He appeared on TV, the camera focused on him sitting at his desk, his hands fiddling with a pen.  He explained that he was there because “they said to get back to work.  And there were no jobs available for a man in the fetal position, under his desk, crying, which I gladly would have taken.”  Then tears came to the comedian’s eyes and he said I’m here because “I wanted to tell you why I grieve, but why I don’t despair.” [4] With that his voice broke and he had to pause for several seconds to compose himself.

I had to put down the magazine at that point.  “Easter!” I thought.  “Easter!  This Jewish comedian is talking about Easter!”

“I wanted to tell you why I grieve, but why I don’t despair.”

Easter is not about daffodils.  It’s not about rabbits.  It’s not about ladies’ hats though I love them and would gladly encourage their wider use.  Easter is not about botany and the return of spring.  It’s autumn in the Southern Hemisphere and the days are getting cold and short.  But today is still Easter!

This year I found Maundy Thursday and Good Friday easier than today - Easter.  Because I am sad . . . I am profoundly sad about the state of the world and the rumors of war and renewed talk of nuclear bombs and news of priests preying on altar boys and the blunt fact of 130,000,000 hungry children.  The mood of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday matched my sadness, but Easter has come and “I want to tell you why I grieve, but why I do not despair.”

It’s because the light of Christ dawns over the horizon of our sad human history, and it is the beginning of a new day . . . for those willing to see.

When will the sun burst above the trees and all the dark places be brightened?  That’s not for you and me to know.

For you and me the Easter question is whether we will live in the shadow of death or the shadow of Christ.

It makes all the difference.

Palestinians and Israelis alike have chosen the shadow of death, each convinced that only violence will guarantee them the security and freedom they crave.  But I think of Sandy Olewine, a United Methodist missionary in Bethlehem, celebrating the Sacrament of Holy Communion this past Thursday night, just as a suicide bomber detonated an explosion killing 28 people who were at their Passover meal.  Sandy got up the next day and went to her task of teaching Palestinian children in a school that has been shelled by Israeli tanks.

Does she live in the shadow of death?  No, she lives in the shadow of Christ.

And so can we.

Teen-agers can turn to drugs or turn to family and friends: the shadow of death or the shadow of Christ.

Families can turn on TV or practice playing with each other: the shadow of death or the shadow of Christ.

Elders can remember how wonderful things used to be or work for the future that ought to be: the shadow of death or the shadow of Christ.

Mary Magdalene ran from the tomb and told the disciples, "I have seen the Lord.”  We who live in later times probably have not seen the risen Jesus, but we have seen his shadow.  And in that shadow there is such life that though we grieve, we need never despair.