NRS Matthew 28:1
After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. 2 And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4 For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. 5 But the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6 He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples, 'He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.' This is my message for you." 8 So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9 Suddenly Jesus met them and said, "Greetings!" And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. 10 Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me."

According to St. Matthew, when Jesus meets the women running from the tomb with the good news of his resurrection, he first greets them and then commands to "go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me." I think it's important to note that Jesus does not say:
" "Go and tell those fair-weather friends who left me hanging on that cross." Neither does he say,
" "Go and tell those spineless cowards who even now are hiding behind closed doors." Nor does he say,
" "Go and tell those craven scoundrels who denied me in my hour of deepest need and tell them that I'm about to drop on them a load of such wrath as hasn't been seen since the days of Sodom and Gomorrah."
No. Jesus says none of those things, though, Lord knows, he had the right. Jesus had been betrayed and denied and abandoned, and not by strangers, but by his own, by those nearest and dearest to him. Now raised and divinely vindicated, Jesus has every reason to denounce his so-called disciples as traitors and turncoats; but instead, Jesus tells the two Mary's, "Go and tell my brothers."

It's as though the whole nightmare had never happened. It's as though the whole sorry story of deceit and deception had never taken place. And herein lies what I think is the whole great, wonderful mystery of Easter. In his rising from the dead, Jesus gives to each and every one of us what he gave that first Easter to his own failed disciples: an absolutely new beginning.

How often do we dream of getting a fresh start! How often do we fantasize about starting over, I mean really leaving the past behind and claiming for ourselves a future unblemished by anything that's gone before! It's easy to imagine, but very hard to realize.

Not too many years ago you may recall a story that hit the papers about a well respected, man-about-town in Galveston. He had landed a high profile job in the public sector; he had made fast friends among some of the city's most prestigious families; he had become a kind of personality in the Galveston social scene. I met him once through his work for the Galveston United Way, and he was a very impressive, well-spoken guy. The only problem was that he wasn't who he said he was. As it turned out, he was wanted in another state. He had jumped bail and left behind a wife and, I think, two children. Determined to start a new life, he assumed a new name and identity, complete with fake i.d. and phony Social Security number. For a number of years he succeeded at his ruse, but in the words of an old Bob Dylan song, "the past was close behind," and when that past finally came up to bite him, hard, the whole sham fell apart.

Regardless of who you are or where you've come from, the past is always close behind, sometimes in a good way, and other times in ways that dog and hound and nip at our heels. People are always saying, "Forgive and forget," but hard as I try, I'm not very good at either. I try to let go; I try to let the past be past; I've got a backyard full of hatchets I'm really hoping to bury soon. But no matter how deep I dig, stuff just keeps coming back up. It's not just that I keep remembering the ancient slights and hurts, real or perceived, that I took from others; but worse yet, I can never quite seem to forget all the dumb, stupid, and just plain mean things I've done in my own life. You know,
" The lies told and promises broken;
" the cruel jokes, flip comments, and angry words;
" the times I should have stood up but sat on my hands;
" the other times I should have shut up but ran my mouth;
" the friends I took for granted; the loved ones I loved so poorly; the poor, lonely, and needy I was just too self-absorbed to notice;
" the Lord I confess with my lips but so often deny in my thoughts, words, and deeds.
The past is always close behind, and sometimes, so close as to crush us, or cripple us, or even smother us in shame, guilt, and disgust.

Which makes the words of Jesus to Mary and the other Mary all the more astonishing: "Go and tell my brothers." Risen and glorious, Jesus presents to each and every one of us a relationship that is utterly beyond the assault of the past. No matter what we've done, no matter where we've been, Jesus addresses us as his brothers and sisters with a future in him that totally transcends anything that's ever gone before. Jesus lives never to die again, so that in him, as his brothers and sisters, the past is finally, conclusively, really past, never again to accuse us, never again to threaten the one relationship on which all our hope and salvation hang. "So if anyone is in Christ," writes the Apostle Paul, "there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new" (2 Corinthians 5:17).

So now you go and tell. You take on the task of those first apostles and tell your brothers and sisters, tell your friends and family, tell your next-door neighbors and back fence buddies. Go and tell them that the mighty Risen Lord, Christ Jesus himself, calls them his brothers and his sisters. Go and tell them that he is waiting to meet them and receive them with open arms. Go and tell them that Jesus lives as their open door to the Father's heart of boundless love and endless joy. Out of your own experience of the Son's all-forgiving address, from out of the depths of your own encounter with the Word Made Flesh who suffered, died, was buried, and now lives for you, go and tell.

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.