Sermon for Sunday, April 5, 2026 || Easter Day A || Matthew 28:1-10

Dear friends, welcome to St. Mark’s on this special feast of the Resurrection that we call Easter Sunday. Every Sunday is technically a feast of the Resurrection, but this one is extra special because it comes on the heels of our week of walking with Jesus during the difficult days of his Passion: his arrest, trial, condemnation, walk to the cross, crucifixion, and death. And now, three days later, we celebrate his rising in the power of the promise that nothing, not even death, can ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

This fundamental truth of Creation is worth celebrating every single day, this truth that nothing can separate us from God’s love. We sing “Alleluia” today for the living and for the dead and for generations yet to come, all of whom God loves in the eternal NOW of God’s presence. We praise God today – for that is what “Alleluia” means – because God is faithful and fulfills the promise to be with us always.

This overarching promise to abide with us, to remain with us, to be present with us creates a particular chemical reaction in our souls that goes by the name JOY. Joy is the presence of God turned into an emotion. Joy has no synonyms. Joy is not happiness because happiness is too fleeting and ephemeral and context-specific to be called joy. Neither is Joy contentment because contentment is too passive and satiated to be called joy. Joy is both full and hungry at the same time: full of God’s presence and hungry for more, the more of the cup that runneth over, splashing joy everywhere like the Sower flinging seeds wide and far.

Joy. That’s why we’re here today. We’re here today because when you notice that chemical reaction in your soul, you want to share it with others who feel the same reaction. And you want to help catalyze that same reaction in those who don’t yet feel it. That’s called evangelism, the sharing of the Good News.

The Risen Christ commissions the two Marys to be evangelists in today’s Gospel reading. They have come to the tomb to find it empty and the guards comatose and a divine messenger ready to send them off with a proclamation: “[Jesus] has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.”

The two Marys leave the tomb quickly, Matthew tells us, with “fear and great joy.” Notice how these two emotions can coexist. This is not normal with fear. Fear is one of those troublesome feelings that tends to override all others. It’s hard to be loving or curious or generous or welcoming when you’re afraid. Fear short-circuits our brains and sends us backwards in our evolutionary journey into Fight-Flight-or-Freeze mode. Authoritarian leaders stoke fear because it is the easiest emotion to instill that can make people pliable to the leader’s whims. Some expressions of religion use the fear of eternal punishment to control their adherents. Fear is a potent weapon in the hands of those who seek power over others.

I wonder why the two Marys are afraid. Are they afraid because they experienced an earthquake and talked to a person with a face like lightning? I’d be scared. Or were they afraid because they didn’t see Jesus’ body and, despite what the messenger said, it’s safer for them to fear foul play than to hope for Jesus’ promises to come true?

No matter the source of their fear, it lives alongside their joy…and not just their joy but their great joy. The Greek word here for ‘great’ is MEGA! They have MEGA JOY! While fear can push away most other emotions, fear cannot dislodge joy because joy comes from the abiding presence of God, and the abiding presence of God does just that – it abides. The presence of God cannot be dislodged, no matter what. That’s the promise of the Resurrection.

The Psalmists, who experience every emotion under the sun, knew this truth about joy:

You will show me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy,
and in your right hand are pleasures for evermore. (16:11)

Weeping may spend the night,
but joy comes in the morning. […]
You have turned my wailing into dancing;
you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.  (30:6, 12)

Joy coexists with fear. Joy coexists with sadness and grief and desolation. I imagine the two Marys were feeling all of this when the Risen Christ met them on the road. If you’re anything like me, you are feeling all of this right now. I invite you, in your Easter celebration, not to see your joy as a dereliction of your duty to bear witness to the suffering of the world. Rather, see your joy as a companion to that witness, for your joy is the eternal part of you standing alongside the temporal part of you.

As I was writing this sermon, our puppy Wicket was sitting on my lap in the comfy chair in our living room. And I realized that 18 months ago, God gifted my family with a tangible reminder of joy. We were going through some rough times, and I suggested we get a dog. This flabbergasted Leah because I had always been vehemently anti-dog. But a month or so before, we had met Taxi the Australian Labradoodle at the parish picnic and fallen in love – and bonus, she was hypoallergenic! Wicket was born in October of 2024 and we brought her home right before Christmas. And from that day on, this tangible reminder of joy has made us her pack. Whenever I come home, I walk up the stairs and there is her little head poking up over the top of the couch. She can barely contain herself as I take off my coat and put my bag down. And then the scritches happen for many, many minutes. And the next time I come up the stairs – whether I was gone ten minutes or a week – the process starts again. This is joy incarnate, and I am so glad to have her in our lives as a reminder of God’s eternal presence.

On this feast of the Resurrection, I wonder what brings out your joy, especially joy that lives side by side with other, more difficult emotions. As you ponder this question, I’ll leave you with the wonderful words of poet Mary Oliver, which are as potent and prophetic today as they were the day she wrote them:

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy,
don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty
of lives and whole towns destroyed or about
to be. We are not wise, and not very often
kind. And much can never be redeemed.
Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this
is its way of fighting back, that sometimes
something happens better than all the riches
or power in the world. It could be anything,
but very likely you notice it in the instant
when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case.
Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid
of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb.