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FOR MARY MAGDALENE and the other women, it seemed the Judean night would never end. The day before the Sabbath they had laid Him in the tomb in haste, and then begun the preparation of spices, ointments, and winding sheets so that He could have a proper burial. The Sabbath itself had been long enough, but how unceasingly, interminably long had been the night!
Now, even before the first rays of the rising sun had touched the far Judean hills, as John so quaintly puts it, "when it was yet dark", Mary Magdalene started for the burial place in the garden of Joseph of Arimathea.
"When it was yet dark." Dark, indeed, was their world, their night. Angry men had put their Lord through the mockery of a trial, and in hate and unbridled violence nailed Him to a cross. He had been the victim of mob action, of rioting. A criminal had been released in His stead; men had cried "crime before justice!"
"When it was yet dark." When the trusted leaders of the little flock had sunk beneath a load of discouragement and defeat, and were ready to leave their ministry and return to their nets. Confused, bewildered, saddened by the sudden sweep of events that had turned the tide of human opinion so viciously against them and their Leader, they did not see how they could go on.
"When it was yet dark." When, despite their bright hopes only a short while before, the heel of Roman domination still grated upon their necks. When that same Roman authority, embodied in Pontius Pilate and the cruel, mocking soldiers, had played such an ugly role in the death of their Lord and Master.
Indeed it is dark, Mary, as you walk toward the cave in Joseph's garden. But scarcely less dark is the world we live in today. Look at its blackness with me for a few moments.
A few short years ago, our world was shadowed by the cry of serious and studious young theologians who declared that our God was dead. But their declarations alone were not enough to bring darkness. They were joined by a host of others, before them and after them, who have declared our world to be in a "post-Christian" era. We are constantly told that our faith is not relevant, that it has no meaning to the man in the street.
We are told that the church is failing to communicate. Indeed, we are told in all seriousness that the church is an outmoded institution and must be replaced by some undefinable, misty, vaporous something that can "engage in meaningful dialogue with our fellow-man in a relevant manner." The church of the Lord feels the same kiss of Judas that He felt in the garden of Gethsemane. His Body again is betrayed in the house of His friends.
That we cannot dismiss these things lightly is evidenced by the simple fact &emdash; and it is a fact &emdash; that many ministers are leaving the ministry today. Not just liberal, unbelieving skeptical "professionals", but men who are solid in their theology, men who began their ministry with a devout sense of a divine call, too. They are leaving because they are discouraged, beaten, defeated, misunderstood; leaving because a sense of utter futility has gripped them; leaving because their best efforts have been misunderstood, or, even worse, simply ignored.
Dark indeed is our night.
But that is not all. Our college campuses are convulsed by confusion. Staid old Ivy League campuses, citadels of learning and tradition, have become the battlegrounds of a massive conflict of ideologies. Humanism has elevated man to the place of God. The only absolute is that there are no absolutes! Truth is sacrificed on the altar of political correctness.
And while this battle goes on for the mind of man, there is another revolution, quiet but powerful. It is a revolution in morals. Firm convictions held for centuries past have crumbled before the eroding force of the Playboy philosophy. Not only the junkie and the gang-banger and all the other unwashed multitude, but the gentleman in the business suit and the honey -haired girl in the mini-skirt ... they too are swept up in this revolution. It is encouraged by counselors, psychologists, even clergymen who celebrate the fall of "Victorian moral codes of the past" and hail the advent of "responsible love as the only criterion of right and wrong". They have taken moral judgment away from Almighty God on Sinai, and given it to two immature youths in the back seat of an automobile!
And the night deepens. Crime stalks our streets, too, as it did in your day, Mary. Your judges loosed a criminal and crucified Truth, and many of us today feel that some of our judges have done the same. Our streets, and parks, and beautiful gardens, like your Mount of Olives, are unsafe to walk in at night, too.
Clarence W. Hall tells in a Readers Digest article ( April, 1957) of an Easter morning he spent in Jerusalem. His Arab friend, Abdul, came to awaken him early to lead him to the sunrise service at the Garden Tomb. It was pitch black, chilly and damp, and Hall had slept little. As he rose, he querulously wondered aloud whether the night would ever end. His Arab friend's face in the candlelight rebuked him. "Never fear, my friend. The day will come. You can't hold back the dawn."
Mary discovered the marvelous truth when she reached the tomb on that morning after the Sabbath and the long, long night. You can't hold back the dawn! Death cannot hold the Sun of Righteousness.
That He had died was beyond question. The centurion said, "He is dead." The disconsolate disciples said, "He is dead." The weeping women said, "He is dead." His mourning mother said, "He is dead." Pilate, too, said, "He is dead" and doubtless his cry was picked up and echoed and reechoed through the chambers of hell "He is dead."
But, that He is alive is also beyond question. Yes, we have the testimony of disciples, of apostles, of above 500 at one time who saw Him. We have the sure word of Paul, the converted Pharisee. But we also have His own testimony, "I am He that was dead, and behold, I am alive forevermore!"
This is what our night needs. Just such a dawning as Mary saw. We do not so much need to grasp this truth, as to be gripped by this truth. Our God is not dead! Words of men, the winding sheets of theology, cannot Keep Him in their tomb. He lives!
He who placed strong hands on Peter's shoulder and turned him from washing nets to winning men is alive today! He still calls men to His service, and if, in a time of discouragement, they go back to their nets, he bids them "come and dine" on His provisions, grants them a second touch and sends them back to His service.
He is alive who said "upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it." The problems the church faces today are very real. Too often our message is cloaked in the garb of irrelevancy. Often we do speak when no one listens, or answer questions no one asks. But with it all, be assured, His church will triumph. It will endure. No blast of man will blow it from its foundations, nor will all the forces of evil loosed against it today bring its downfall.
Let us see in His dawning not so much a balm for society's ills as a cure for each man's sin. He did not come to take men out of the slums, but to take the slum out of men. He did not come to redeem society, but to save sinners. The answer to the revolutions that rock our centers of learning is for men to find Him who is the Truth. And He is there. There is another quiet revolution on our campuses, and it is going on in little groups who meet for prayer and Bible study in dorm rooms, in fraternity house parlors, and around tables in student centers.
You can't hold back the dawn. You can nail hope to a tree, but Hope will rise again. You can wind truth in the winding sheets of dead theology, but Truth will burst from the tomb. You can bind life with the chains of sin and death, but Life will break the bonds asunder.
We come first to the tomb and standing without, look in. The grave is empty, the winding clothes lying upon the bier like an empty cocoon. Then, let us turn and looking from within the cave, look outward. The rays of a golden sun pierce the purple of the night with streaks of glorious light. Hope, surging like a current through our beings, becomes resolute faith at the sight of our Risen Lord. Then, Joy like a sunrise in the soul, spreads light and warmth and dispels all gloom. Let heaven and earth rejoice, and all the hosts of hell be warned: You can't hold back the dawn!
© 1995