Scripture: Matthew 28:1-10
After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And look! There was a great earthquake, for a messenger of God, descending from heaven, came and rolled away the stone and sat upon it. Its appearance was like lightning, and its clothing white as snow. For fear of the messenger, the guards shook and were as though dead. But the messenger responded to the women and said, “Fear not; I know that you all are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, just as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and see, he is on to Galilee ahead of you; there you all will see him.’ This is my message for you.” So the women left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy and ran to tell his disciples the news. Then all of a sudden Jesus met them and said, “Shalom!” And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and bowed down worshipping him. Then Jesus said to them, “Fear not; go and tell my sisters and brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
Translation from A Women’s Lectionary for the Whole Church, Year A, by the Rev. Dr. Wilda A. Gafney.
Sermon
I know you won’t believe me.
You won’t believe what I have to say, what we have to say, but it’s true.
We swear to you on all that is holy. This is what happened.
We rose early, the day after the Sabbath. And we looked at one another, and we knew what we must do.
The Sabbath—the day of rest, the day of joy, the day of God reminding us that we are worthy of rest and joy… it is supposed to be a day of sweetness, a day of respite. But it had been terrible, excruciating. All there was for us was the cross. We lit the candles and said the Sabbath prayers on Friday night, but the cross loomed in our hearts, burned in our memories. His face. His arms. His feet. There was no joy. We broke the bread and barely touched it. Our exhaustion and horror at what we had witnessed, what they did to him… it broke us. It broke the sweetness of Sabbath. There was only the cross.
And there was nothing to do. There was nothing we COULD do, except move from one end of the upper room to the other, from chair to chair, endless meaninglessness. To look at one another blankly, and say, again … I can’t believe it. I can’t believe he’s gone.
That is what we did for many long hours. Our bodies, our minds, our hearts, were exhausted. Finally, Saturday night, we slept uneasily, terrible dreams haunting us.
So on the first day, when the Sabbath was finally over, there was only one thing to do. We went to the tomb.
Why go to the tomb? To be near him. I know, he wouldn’t be there, not really. Just a crushed body, barely recognizable when we’d last seen him, now wrapped in linen, behind an immovable stone. Not breathing. Dead. But we wanted to be near him, all the same.
It was still dark when we left the house, but we didn’t care. The streets were cool and quiet and we found our way.
And just as we arrived, we felt it—the earthquake. Surely you felt it too? It was just as it had been on the day of the cross. The earth rumbled, the ground shifted. We lost our balance and clung to one another.
And then, a brightness that hurt the eyes, that seemed to alight over the tomb. When we looked, we could see that it was… it must be… a messenger from God, an angel? So bright we kept looking away. He sat on the stone—the great stone that had sealed the tomb, which now stood open. He sat there, and he smiled at us.
Before we could rail at him—how could even an angel smile in the face of this devastation?—he spoke.
Do not be afraid.
(We never thought to be afraid, we were too angry.)
I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.
(And now, we looked at one another. I felt a tingling in my spine. Fear. Hope. Dread.)
He is not here, he has been raised; come, see the place where he lay.
(And now, another earthquake, but this one within—we both felt it. We both said, No. Surely—this was a trick. But…)
We went. We saw. Nothing there but white cloths, with pinkish stains. Hardly proof that he had been raised. More likely proof of the mischief of the Roman guards… and we looked around. Where were they, anyway? Everyone had seen them, stationed there, to prevent US from creating mischief, allegedly. Finally. We saw them, on their knees, looking as if they were about to faint. Or run.
Go! the messenger urged us. Go! Tell his brothers and sisters. Tell them he has been raised, and he will meet you in Galilee.
Galilee… but… that was where it all had started. Why did Jesus want us to go there?
Then I realized, I was actually entertaining this idea, that he was raised. More anger, but suddenly I could tell other emotion was competing with it. Joy. Joy AND fear. What if… what if…
Mary grabbed me by the hand and said, COME ON.
And we started to run.
I know you won’t believe me, but this is true.
Almost as soon as we began to run, there he was. Again, an earthquake inside… a dizziness in the head, a rush of joy that almost toppled us over.
And he said, in that voice, that beautiful, unforgettable voice:
Shalom. Peace.
And then we were on our knees, crying and calling out thanks to God and holding tight to his feet—his beautiful, wounded feet.
Again, that voice.
Don’t be afraid.
And his hands… we could see where his wrists had been pierced…his hands reached down to invite us to our feet.
Don’t be afraid. Go to Galilee. Tell everyone. Go to Galilee, and there we will all be together again.
I know. I know…It’s impossible, impossible to believe.
But listen. Listen to me. What did Jesus preach? What did he teach? Jesus preached the reign of God… how close it is, how it is almost here. What better way could there be for us to understand the reign of God is here than this: He is risen. It is a reign in which death is defeated. Death is no longer victorious. He is risen.
Death is all around us. We have all felt its pain. The death of a child, a friend, a parent. The death of a woman as she brings life into the world. The death of an innocent man, like Jesus. The crosses, always there, the instruments of death to keep us in line. The death-dealing power of a government such as Rome, that does not care for its people, but only cares about enriching itself. Didn’t Jesus tell us about all these things? Didn’t Jesus do all he could against all these things, against death… Didn’t he raise a little girl to life, and many others? Do you remember all he did? The blind received their sight, the lame walked, those with a skin disease were cleansed, the deaf could hear, the dead were raised, and the poor had good news brought to them…
Why shouldn’t Jesus be raised from the dead? Jesus fought death in life, and he fought death in death.
But don’t believe me. Don’t believe us. Don’t take our word for it.
Go. Go to Galilee. Go back to the beginning… the time when you met Jesus, became aware of him. The time when you wondered, Who is this Jesus? How can I get to know him?
Go back to the beginning, because that is where he has promised to meet us. To meet us in that place where he called you from your fishing boats, or your tax booth, or your sporadic work as a day laborer. You, Peter, Andrew. You, James, John… That place where he gave you an invitation you somehow couldn’t refuse. “Follow me.” The place where he began his work of preaching, and healing, and feeding the hungry, and bringing living water to the thirsty. Go back to the beginning, because that is where we will find the risen Jesus, our risen Christ.
Don’t believe me. Go back to where it all began for you, and meet Jesus there, again, and then you will know. Then you will trust this good news. Then you will join in his work, all over again.
Don’t believe me. Believe him, and go. He is risen.
Thanks be to God. Amen. [1]
[1] Sermon informed and inspired by Matt Skinner, Commentary on Matthew 28:1-10, Resurrection of Our Lord, “The Messiah’s determination to spread mercy must not slow down,” April 5, 2026, Working Preacher, https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/resurrection-of-our-lord/commentary-on-matthew-281-10-14.