Matthew 28:1-10 · The Resurrection
Prison Break
Matthew 28:1-10
Sermon
by Leonard Sweet
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Christ is alive! Can I get a witness?

Hallelujah!

Or as some of us learned in Sunday School, “Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelu, Hallelujah . . . Praise Ye The Lord.”

If Christ is alive, why aren’t we more alive? Why don’t we feel more alive this morning?

One word: agoraphobia.

Ever heard of it? Every know of anyone who had it?

Of all the dozens of phobias people can suffer from, one of the most debilitating is the fear of open spaces. Agoraphobia.

A friend born and raised in the Midwest described how she felt exposed, uncomfortable, as if she were going to “fall off the edge of the world” when she moved to the Pacific coast. The ocean expanse was too vast, too open-ended. It left her with an out of control feeling. She had to move back to the Midwest.

Other agoraphobic people have anxiety attacks when they venture out into the world. For many the phobia gets so bad that they never do—-and they become the ultimate “stay at home.” While the Internet has made it easier for agoraphobic individuals to have a job, keep up contacts with others, even “meet” and establish new friendships, their online existence cannot hide the fact that some people are prisoners in their own homes. Their fears keep them trapped behind the walls of their homes, just as surely as the walls of a prison keep the convicted behind bars and barbed wire.

Here in the USA agoraphobics have a lot of fellow “non-travelers.” While the U.S. has just 5 % of the world’s population, we hold 20% of the world’s population of prisoners. (Alan Eisner, From the Gates of Injustice [Prentice Hall, 2006]). Our prisoner statistics are disturbing.

Did you know this about US?

1 in 8 men has been convicted of a felony

1 in 20 men have gone to jail

1 in 5 African American men have been in prison

In fact more than 700 out of every 100,000 residents in USA are behind prison bars (some recent studies put the figure as high as 1 in 100). If we focus just on those over 16 and under 70, one out of every 80 US Americans are locked away behind jailhouse bars. And for those who are finally released, freedom is generally short-lived: over 2/3 of ex-prisoners are re-arrested and re-incarcerated within three years. (Michael Tonrv, Thinking About Crime: Sense and Sensibility in American Penal Culture [New York: Oxford University Press, 2004], 21, 188).

For a huge number of people, prison is a way of life. Prison is a revolving door experience that only succeeds, as someone has noted, in being “an expensive way of making bad men worse.” In site of the fact that Jesus instructed his followers to visit those in prison; in spite of the fact that Hebrews 13: 1, 3 teaches us “Let mutual love continue. Remember those who are in prison, as though you were in prison with them; those who are being tortured, as though you yourselves were being tortured:” in spite of biblical mandates to visit those in prison everywhere, prison ministry is all too rare in our churches. Dr. Steve Ayers is the pastor of Hilvue Heights Church in Bowling Green Kentucky. One of the sheriff’s deputies kids Steve because his church has “more convicts than converts.” Jesus is proud of Hilvue Heights Church.

But here’s our problem: there are a lot more “prisoners” in our communities and our country than can be counted in the state and federal penitentiary systems. Like those suffering from agoraphobia, these prisons exist without bars, and they lock us in and lock us down just as effectively.

Let’s name some of these prisons this Easter morning.

There are . . . .

prisoners of poverty
prisoners of ignorance
prisoners of rage
prisoners of neglect
prisoners of addiction
prisoners of hate
prisoners of despair
prisoners of loneliness
prisoners of fear

All these prisons, and the hundreds of others our stunted, sinful selves can create, work to make us “worse.”

That is why the story of Easter is such Good News! The resurrection is the ultimate “prison break!” Jesus breaks free from death. Jesus breaks the chain of sin and condemnation that stretched back to Adam. Jesus’ prison break offers us all a way to escape the solitary confinement of the self.

Like any good prison break (anyone a fan of the Fox series “Prison Break”?), Jesus’ escape from death went undetected by his jailors. When the two Marys arrive at the tomb early in the morning, the guards still stand in front of the bulky boulder that blocks entry and exit from that death chamber. Neither the women nor the guards have any reason to think Jesus’ body does not still lie behind that rock. Then the angel appears, as “striking” as “lightening,” dressed in robes as “white as snow.” The angel flexes some celestial muscle and rolls the stone away from the tomb. “Check it out,” the angel challenges the women. “He is not here! He is risen.”

Jesus’ prison break is secret no more. The angel trumpets the announcement: “He has been raised from the dead.”

But that is not all of the angel’s message. Not only is Jesus not in the tomb, not dead. Jesus is “going ahead of you to Galilee.”

Jesus isn’t just out of the tomb. Jesus is “on the road again.”

Now that Jesus has broken out of the prison of death, now that victory over evil and suffering has been won, the women are told to herald this news to the other disciples. And once they have done that, they are all to get themselves to Galilee to meet up with the risen Christ.

In our text this Easter morning, Jesus’ prison break enables the women to break free of their mourning, their fear, their self-pity, their lack of faith. Jesus’ prison break breaks these first witnesses free to take discipleship action. They are free to DO. They are free to TELL. They are free to FOLLOW Jesus to a new beginning of faith.

Jesus releases us from whatever prisons we find ourselves in. For some of us it is metal bars that keep us captive. For some of us it is mental barriers that keep us captive. But whether metal bars or mental barriers, this morning we can shout to the heavens, “You are FREE.”

You have been broken out of the prisons that confine you. Now leave and meet up with Jesus on the road, where he’s waiting for you.

Some of the greatest literature ever produced was written from prison. Think Revelation, or Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers from Prison. Think of Gandhi’s writings, or Martin Luther King’s “Letter from a Birmingham Jail” (1963).

John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress (1678) was written in prison. While in prison Bunyan wrote to a friend these words:

For though men keep my outward man
Within their bolts and bars,
Yet, by faith of Christ, I can
Mount higher than the stars.

Because of Easter morning, you can “mount higher than the stars,” even though you fight “bolts and bars.”

Fritz Kreisler, the world famous violinist (born 1875, died 1962), earned a fortune with his concerts and compositions. But he generously gave most of it away. So, when he discovered an exquisite violin on one of his trips, he wasn’t able to buy it. Later, having raised enough money to meet the asking price, he returned to the seller hoping to purchase that beautiful instrument. To his great dismay, it had been sold to an antique collector.

Kreisler made his way to the new owner’s home and offered to buy the violin. The rare instrument was proudly displayed behind a sealed and solid glass case. Resting in its velvet couch, the violin lay imprisoned in its climate controlled coffin. The collector said that it had become his prized possession, and he would not sell it.

Keenly disappointed, Kreisler was about to leave, when he had an idea. “Could I play the instrument once more before it’s consigned to silence?” he asked. Permission was granted, and the great virtuoso released the violin from its fancy casket and filled the room with such heart-moving music that the collector’s emotions were deeply stirred.

“I have no right to keep that to myself,” the collector exclaimed. “It’s yours, Mr. Kreisler. Take it into the world and let people hear it.”

God created you as an exquisite instrument. God designed you to make beautiful music.

Don’t imprison the gift of life you have received. This morning you have been freed. Jesus said: “Because I live, you also will live” (John 14:19).

Or in the words of the hymn written by St. John Damascene in the 8th century:

Come, ye faithful raise the strain
Of triumphant gladness:
God hath brought his Israel
Into joy from sadness.

Tis the Spring of souls today:

Christ has burst his prison . . .


Animations, Illuminations, Illustrations, Ruminations, Applications

“A Prisoner’s Prayer” by HMP Holloway

“Dear Lord, I did wrong----I thought it was right. You forgave me. I tried again----I made it worse. You forgave me. I resented your will----I bitterly fought. You still forgave me. Although others despised me, they can’t understand. I live with their hatred but I continue on and I gain strength, because----you forgave me. Pray for young people in prison. Pray of the victims of crime and their families. God of justice and compassion, we pray for all who bear the wounds of crime that they may be healed in body, mind, and spirit, given freedom from bitterness and the grace to forgive. Pray for all men and women in prison. Heavenly Father of us all, you alone can truly judge your creation. Help us to pray for all prisoners, no matter what their crimes may be, that they may find your grace, mercy and forgiveness. Amen.

HMP Holloway, as quoted in The Tablet, 18 November 2006, 22


Have you heard the story about the three doctors who died, went to heaven, and met St. Peter at the gates. St. Peter asked the first doctor why he thought he deserved to enter.

“I was a doctor with the Christian Medical and Dental Society,” the physician replied. “Every year, I went to the Southeast for 3 weeks and treated the poor Native Americans free of charge.”

“Welcome,” said St. Peter, then asked the second doctor, “And what did you do?”

“I was a missionary in Africa for 11 years, and worked in a hospital helping the tribes there,” she replied.

“Enter into the joy of the Lord,” St. Peter said. He turned to the third doctor and asked, “And what did you do?”

“I was a doctor at an HMO.”

“Come on in,” said St. Peter. “But you can only stay for three days.”


“This Joyful Eastertide” hymn:

Had Christ, that once was slain,

Ne’er burst his three-day prison,

Our faith would be in vain.


When Winston Churchill was Home Secretary, he wrote these words:

“The mood and temper of the public in regard to the treatment of crime and criminals is one of the most unfailing tests of the civilization of any country. A calm, dispassionate recognition of the rights of the accused and even of the convicted criminal against the state: a constant heart-searching of all charged with the deed of punishment; tireless efforts towards the discovery of regenerative processes; unfailing faith that there is a treasure, if you can find it, in the heart of every man. These are the symbols which in the treatment of crime and criminals make and measure the stored-up strength of a nation and are sign and proof of the living virtue in it.”

Quoted on p. 86 of Eric James, Word Over All: Forty Sermons, 1985-1991 (London: SPCK, 1992).


The nation that criminalizes more conduct than any non-Islamic nation?

The United States of America

So argues Judge Richard A. Posner in “The Most Punitive Nation,” TLS: Times Literary Supplement, 1 September 1995, 3-4.


St. Leonard of Noblac was a hermit of the 6th century who built a cell in the forest near Limoges and lived completely alone.

He became a popular saint in Western Europe in the later Middle Ages.

Legend has it that he prayed for Clovis’s wife during a difficult labor, and Clovis rewarded him by giving him all the land he could ride around on a donkey in a single night.

He is the patron saint of pregnant women and captives (especially prisoners of war). His feast day is November 6.

See “St. Leonard of Noblac,” Butler’s Lives of the Saints, ed. Herbert Thurston and Donald Attwater (New York: P. J. Kennedy’s Sons, 1956), 4:273.


In the whole of Greenland, there are only 140 policemen.


Bored in my self-prison

I doubt uneasily;

But the times when I get out,

I know you have risen.

—the ending of Australian poet James McAuley’s “Confession”


E. B. White, whom adults know as the onetime editor of the New Yorker but whom children know for his Charlotte’s Web, wrote an essay about his wife who died some years earlier. His wife was a member of the world’s oldest profession--a gardener--and each spring she ordered from her seed catalogues what she wanted to plant that year and then diagrammed her garden based on what it would look like. Even when her sickness overtook her, she still managed to get outside and plant. White wrote:

“Armed with a diagram and a clipboard, Catherine would get into a shabby old raincoat, much too long for her, and put on a little round wool hat and proceed to the director’s chair placed at the edge of the plot. There she would sit, hour after hour, with the wind and the weather, while Henry Allen produced dozens of paper packages of new bulbs and a basket full of old ones, ready for the intricate interment. There was something comical, yet touching in her bedraggled appearance on this awesome occasion. The small, hunched-over figure: her studied absorption in the implausible notion that there would be another spring: oblivious to the ending of her own days, which she knew perfectly well was near at hand: sitting there with her chart under those dark skies in the dying October calmly plotting the resurrection.”

--E. B. White: A Biography (W.W. Norton, 1984), 353, as related by Steve Hancock via John M. Buchanan, “Plotting the Resurrection,” Chicago, Illinois, 30 March 1997.

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Sermons, by Leonard Sweet