Creekside Church Sermon of March 30, 1997 "The Fact of Failure and the Sunday Surprise" Mark 6:1-8	Rev. David Bibbee
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It's victory comes precisely at the point where we hold Easter faith up to the fact of failure. If you think that failure is not an appropriate theme to consider on Easter Sunday, let me remind you that the dark clouds of fear, futility, and failure hung heavy over the first Easter as three women made their way with sad, heavy steps to the tomb, rehearsing the events of Friday which brought their hope to an abrupt end. All Jesus had said, all Jesus had done, all he had promised, was mocked by an immovable stone that sealed Jesus' tomb. No failure had ever seemed so final.

It was a cold January morning in New York City's infamous Bowery. Home to blighted buildings and blighted lives. In one of these boarding rooms lived a shell of a man. He lived to drink and he was starving. That morning he staggered to the wash basin and fell. The basin shattered. When they found him, he was lying naked in a pool of blood from a gash in his throat. A doctor was called. No one special. He asked for thread to suture the wound. Someone got a strand of black sewing thread. While the doctor sewed, the bum begged for a drink. The police wagon came and he was admitted to Bellevue Hospital. He had a fever, had lost much blood, and was malnourished. No one was particularly moved by his plight. They had seen many like him before. On the third day he died. He was only 38 years old.

A friend came for him and was directed to the morgue. Recovered from his pocket were 38 cents, enough to keep him one more night in the Bowery, and a slip of paper. All his worldly possessions. On the paper was penciled five words..."Dear friends and gentle hearts." Someone suggested it was the title of an unwritten song. He was just another drunken derelict with no prospects of turning his life around. He was an abject failure, even though years before his death in 1864 he had made the world sing what he had written...Camptown Races, Old Susanna, Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair, My Old Kentucky Home, and many more. His name was Stephen Foster...born a gifted composer, died a failure.

We don't need to get to such a sad state to know failure, do we? To be human is to know failure. Each of us comes here today carrying the weight of things that didn't work out. A surefire thing that backfired. A dream that died. We fail in school, on the job, and in the home. We fail in our relationships. We fail in our discipleship. We fail others. We fail ourselves. I stand here today before a sanctuary full of people who are personal acquaintances of failure.

The danger of Easter is that we will celebrate it in isolation from the frustrations and failures we face in life. Jesus' resurrection was a shock precisely because no one expected it. In Luke, the disciples respond to the women's announcement of Jesus' resurrection by calling it "an idle tale." Consider as well that in the world's eyes, Jesus was a failure. The King of kings and Lord of lords was born in a cattle stall and was buried in a borrowed grave. He drew great crowds, but few followers. He preferred the company of people who were failures over the blue chippers. His family thought he was disturbed and wanted him to come home and settle down. His disciples denied him, betrayed him, and ran in his hour of need. Crucified between two thieves, he felt that even God had forsaken him. The Apostles' Creed sums his life in a short sentence: "Born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried." Some epitaph.

This is what the women took with them to the tomb. No expectations of a Sunday surprise. Just the problem of a stone, Roman guards, and a cold, hard duty to perform. But when they arrived, the stone had been removed. Jesus' body was gone, and a man robed in white sat in the tomb and said, "Don't be afraid. The one you are looking for has been raised. He's not here. Tell his disciples he's going ahead to Galilee. They will see him there." And they fled from the tomb and they said nothing to anyone for they were afraid. Here ends the Easter story according to Mark. The oldest manuscripts of Mark don't contain verses 9 through 20. Evidence is that those verses were not added until the next century. No one is certain why, nor do we know where the later ending came from. The original ending makes it seem the word of the Resurrection is held hostage to fear. "They fled the tomb and said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid."

There is a part of us that understands why. Failure can do this to a person. Recovery from some blow seems all but impossible. Jesus was their last hope, but hope died on Friday. "It's all over. We'll never get over this." But with God's Sunday surprise, failure isn't final. Winston Churchill once said there are two things in life that are never final, one is success, and the other is failure. If this day makes one thing very clear, it is that success and failure are redefined since the Resurrection. The Cross, the symbol of shame and defeat, has become a plus sign. If death is not ultimate, then our failures aren't final, and by faith in the risen Lord, failures can be the occasion for learning and growth and a new start.

Too many people live by the motto, "If at first you don't succeed, you lose." But who said there are no failures on the path to success? Babe Ruth hit 714 home runs, but he also struck out 1,330 times. Reggie Jackson holds the all-time strikeout record at 2,000. Would anyone say he was a failure as a baseball player? The English novelist John Creasey got 750 rejection slips before he published 564 books. The disciples went to towns where their message was rejected. "Hey," Jesus said. "It happens. Shake the dust from your feet and move on." Jesus wasn't always successful himself. He was run out of his home synagogue when he preached his first sermon. There were towns where he couldn't heal anyone.

If the wonder of the Resurrection really grabbed us, you know what would happen? We would be making mistakes left and right. Why? Because we wouldn't be afraid of failing, and therefore wouldn't be afraid of trying. We would try new ways of relating and living. We would take more risks because we would believe that nothing ventured for Christ will ever come back empty.

While in Bermuda, Bruce Larson watched some grizzled fishermen gathered around a wharf, watching a young man shove off in a 20-foot, old, double ended sailboat. "You know where that crazy buzzard is going?" one of them asked. "He's sailing to England." As the little boat sailed out from the harbor, the old veterans of the sea shook their heads in disbelief. "Somehow the sight of that old craft with its lone crew stirred something deep in me, and, without meaning to, I found myself waving and shouting, "Bon voyage." Surprised and obviously encouraged, the young captain waved back and continued to do so until his boat was out of sight."

Then Larson adds: "For that young man, getting there wasn't a necessity. He might not make it. But he had to start out. That's what life is all about. As Christians, whether we arrive of not is not the issue. It's okay to fail as long as we launch out. Don't stay in the harbor."

The purpose of this morning isn't to prove the reality of the Resurrection. In the Gospels it's dealt with as fact. The overriding concern is, "What difference does it make?" My job puts me in contact with people who daily decide how they will respond to life. Some people are afraid to live. Better to be safe than sorry. Don't venture out too far too often. It's too uncertain. There are others who have experienced some bitter blow along the way and for all practical purposes have locked themselves behind some door of disappointment and failure, and stopped living. I want to say, "Do you believe in Easter?"

Mark's version of Easter used to be my least favorite. It had none of the details or face-to-face encounters with Jesus like the other gospels. But Mark's version comes closer to how we sometimes feel. "Let's go to the tomb and give dead Jesus a decent burial." It's too much to believe he is alive. We'll just keep on living the way we did before Jesus came along. They ran from the tomb trembling. They said nothing to anyone. It's easier this way. You see, if he is alive, it changed everything. If I believe he is alive, I can't live by excuses. I can't remain a cripple because of bad breaks, a painful past, or a file full of failures.

I used to not like Mark's version of Easter. Now it's my favorite. It's true to our experience of life which seizes us with fear and resignation. But it is also true to Jesus. He won't be found in the tomb. He's gone ahead of you to Galilee, into the world. Mark's story ends without a resolution. The resolution was added later, out of the Church's experience of the risen Lord. And we do the same.

Mark doesn't give us a resolution because we are the resolution. He didn't stay in the tomb. He's out ahead, calling us to follow from the surprise of Sunday to an unknown Monday where risks must be taken and mistakes will be made. And when in faith we move on we will meet him. Scary? You bet. That's why Mark's Easter ends with the words..."They were afraid."

Now let me offer you this image. One clear, cold Saturday morning a boy was standing in front of an old Italian tailor shop, his nose pressed against the glass. On display for Easter was a replica of Jerusalem. As he took in all the little buildings and narrow streets, a derelict came stumbling by and noticed the boy's excited attention, so he unknowingly looked on. The boy pointed out the different places and shared what he had learned about them in Bible class.

"There is the temple. Jesus taught there. There is the Pool of Siloam. Jesus healed people there. There was a man there who had been sick for 38 years. Jesus told him to get up, and he was all better." The man reflected. Thirty-eight years ago he had left his home, wife, and children. Wouldn't it be wonderful if he could be healed of his alcoholism?

The boy pointed to the Upper Room. "This is where Jesus had his last supper with his disciples. He gave them communion. Jesus is still with us in the Eucharist." There was a glimmer of hope in the old man's weary heart. Still with us? It is possible?

The boy went on showing the garden where Jesus was arrested, then falsely accused and tortured and given a cross to carry. Then he pointed to Golgotha where Jesus died. The elderly man walked away, stooped with the weight of sadness. The only one who could help and heal had been rejected and killed. So what hope is there? Then he heard the sound of running feet behind him. He turned and looked into an excited little face. "Oh, mister...you left before I finished. He rose again."

Failure is a fact of life. But no failure is final, because death itself is not final. Mark gives us no resolution because we are the resolution when we, like the women, are told to forget the failure and seek him among the living. "There you will see him.. Go and tell."

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