“With Fear and Great Joy”
Isaiah 43:1-2; Matthew 28:1-10
Rev. Dr. Deborah L. Clark
March 27, 2016–Easter
“Do not be afraid,” the angel spoke to Mary and Mary. Right… The big tough guards shook with fear and became like dead men. There was a massive earthquake. The angel told them Jesus’ body was gone and he had been raised from the dead. And they were supposed to not be afraid?
Those were outrageous words. They were also familiar words, for the women would have grown up hearing them–in the synagogue and around the dinner table as they learned the stories of their faith. They would have known by heart the words Isaiah sang to the people despairing in exile: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” They would have remembered what God said to Abraham and Sarah–Do not fear, for I will make of you a great nation. They would have learned what Moses said to the former slaves wandering in the wilderness: “Do not be afraid, stand firm.” They would have thought about how many times Jesus said similar words to them—“do not be afraid, for you are of more value than many sparrows….”
According to Google, “Do not be afraid” is the most repeated phrase in the entire Bible. It is at the heart of our faith.
It is a phrase that both inspires and perplexes me. It inspires me because I know how different my life is when fear does not hold me back. It perplexes me because it seems Jesus and Isaiah and Moses are asking me to do something impossible.
Fear is a natural human emotion, a gift from God. At its root, it is a warning system, a life-saving signal that there is trouble at hand. We know, though, how easily fear goes awry–giving us the wrong signals, calling upon our fight-or-flight reflex when neither is a helpful response. Fear, instead of alerting us to danger, can itself become the danger. It is especially dangerous when we try to deny its reality in our lives.
“Do not be afraid.” They words seem especially perplexing–and especially powerful–in our world today. There is good reason to be frightened. A terrorist attack in Belgium in the middle of Holy Week awakens us to our vulnerability. The nightly news reminds us of the terrifying power of demagogues, who play on anger and despair. Wild weather highlights the damage climate change is already doing to our planet. In our personal lives, too many of us face fear of cancer, financial insecurity, loss of the people we love. Some of our fears are blown out of proportion; some are understated. All of them are real.
In the midst of all these reasons to be fearful, we hear the voice of the angel. “Do not be afraid.” What do we do with this message? We can’t will our fear out of existence–and it’s not healthy to try. Even with Google’s calculations about the prevalence of this phrase in the Bible, I refuse to accept that if we only had strong enough faith, we would never be afraid.
Instead I look to our two Mary’s as examples of faith. How did they respond to the angel’s words? The gospel writer tells us:“They left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy.”
“With fear and great joy.” They were still frightened. What changed was now they were also joyful. Jesus was alive! Finally they understood what he had tried to teach them during his life: God’s love is more powerful than hate and fear, more powerful than abuse of power or betrayal by a friend, more powerful even than death on a cross. Jesus’ message could not be destroyed.
They had just witnessed an earthquake and talked with an angel who looked like lightening. Their fear was real. Their joy, though, was great–greater than their fear. They ran–not running away in fear, running because the good news they had to tell was so wonderful they could not possibly just walk.
Mary and Mary’s example prompts me to hear the angel’s words in a new way. Perhaps he is not talking about fear as a feeling or an experience, but about fear as a self-definition. Do not be afraid. Do not become your fear. Do not let fear control your actions or define your life.
Faith, the story tells us, does not take away our fear. Faith gives us courage to refuse to be defined by our fear. That is good news. But the Easter news is even more wonderful than that. Because the tomb was empty, because they now understood that God’s love was more powerful than anything they might ever fear, Mary and Mary claimed a new self-definition: they were defined by joy.
What does this story mean for us today? In a world filled with reasons to be afraid, how do we live as a people defined instead by joy?
A few weeks ago, twenty-five people gathered in Edwards Hall for a multi-faith gathering, “Songs and stories for healing, peace, and courage.” It was our alternative to the fear and fear-mongering dominating the news cycle. After a short opening, we invited folks to offer music, poems, or stories. We heard Israeli peace songs played on an accordion. I sang a gentle hymn from the New Century Hymnal. Someone read a poem. Rabbi Katy told a Hasidic folk tale.
And then Mary, a quiet Muslim woman, pulled out her guitar. She explained that she had written this song after the San Bernardino attack, a song addressed to ISIS. She sang–a powerful NO to those who twist her religion to justify hate, a poetic YES to the faith that gives her life meaning and hope. We sat in stunned silence, overwhelmed by her passion, her courage, her faith.
Later, as we stood around drinking tea and eating brownies, she told us she planned to record her song and post it on youtube, so ISIS would see it. “Doesn’t that frighten you?” someone asked. “Yes,” she answered, “but I’m going to do it anyway.” A few minutes after that, she pulled out her guitar and played another original song. This one was light-hearted, with almost a country-western twang. We all laughed. With the support of these new friends, May had found courage to sing her truth. Her courageous act lightened all our hearts. “With fear and great joy.”
On Thursday morning, we held a funeral for Peg Walenski. Peg, the oldest member of our church at 95, led an amazing life–a poet, an army nurse at the Battle of the Bulge, an intrepid traveler, a faithful Christian. As we gathered, we honored the sadness of loss. And we called forth joy: joy at the gifts Peg shared with our world, joy at the assurance that she is at peace. There is a quiet joy in our coming together, proclaiming that life is a sacred gift, trusting that our being there for each other can bring comfort and healing.
Next Sunday, during worship, our middler Church School class will make Syrian cookies for the Jam for Bread benefit concert. This remarkable class of young men, led by the equally remarkable Stephany Duplessis, doesn’t want to sit around talking every Sunday morning. They want to do something to make a difference. When we look at the troubles of our world, our fear is that we are powerless. There is joy in refusing to give in to that fear. There is great joy in trusting that what we do matters. There is even greater joy in the discovery that when we work together, our efforts are multiplied.
This is what it means for us to be defined not by fear but by joy. We support one another in finding the courage to say no and to say yes–and we celebrate the transformation it brings. We gather to honor the gift of life and to offer comfort and encouragement and the promise of healing. We dare to trust we can make a difference–and we act on that trust. We live our faith in the Easter promise–God’s love is stronger than anything we might fear.
Sometimes the joy that defines us is a feeling–that makes us laugh and leap and run and sing. Sometimes joy is a promise–that new life will emerge out of loss, that we can heal, that what we do matters even when we can’t see it. A feeling, a promise–whatever form it takes, the joy of our faith is great indeed.
Do not be afraid, the angel says to Mary and Mary–and to us. Do not become your fear. Christ is arisen; hope is alive! Dare to trust in the promise of new life. Dare to be joy. Amen.