An idle taleAn idle tale. An exaggeration, a rumor, a fabrication, a fable, a yarn. The women came back to the disciples and they did not believe them because they thought the story they were bringing of Jesus ressurection was an idle tale. That's really the point of why we're here today, isn't it? Do we dare believe those scatter brained women or do we pass off what they have witnessed as just another idle tale. One can hardly blame the disciples after all-it seems rather outlandish. Jesus risen from the dead indeed. What could be more ridiculous, absurd, unreasonable. The gospel writer was probably being very charitable in his choice of words-an idle tale indeed. No doubt the disciples thought the women had gone over the edge, you know lost a shingle from their roof, popped their cork, allowed bats in their belfry. To say that the disciples thought the women's report was an idle tale was in truth just being kind.
We can forgive the apostles because after all that's just how it is to be Christian in our world. Our friends who are unbelievers bow with respect to our faith, nodding and trying to understand, an idle tale after all. Some, who might be more honest, wonder how real twenty first century folk can see this ridiculous story as anything but absurd. There's no way to prove it after all, there's no way to be sure. Real life, as they see it, just doesn't support a belief in the resurrection. Life is more like the vision Shakespeares character Macbeth has in the play Macbeth when he says:
For unbelievers, Life is more that kind tale, a tale told by an
idiotan idle tale. We're merely players, here for an instant and
then gone. But the women knew better and we know better.They came
back confused but exuberant, ecstatic and full of hope. Our lives
may be confused but they are also exuberant, ecstatic and full
of hope, for we know and believe the idle tale the women told.
When my children were little they had a favorite book the name of which I can no longer remember but the story is embedded solidly in my memory, perhaps from reading it ten thousand times. In the story, a little boy finds a small dragon in his bedroom. He tries to tell his parents about the dragon but they keep telling him that his story is ridiculous. Every time the parents fail to listen to him the dragon gets a little bigger. Even when the boy brings the dragon down to show them and they actually see the dragon they can't believe it because they consider the whole idea of a dragon ridiculous. And so the dragon gets a little bigger. Now he's the size of the sofa and mom has to pretend that he's not there as she cleans around him. Then he's the size of a room and nobody can watch television, but the idea of a dragon is ridiculous. Finally the dragon is the size of a house, his head comes out the window and his tail reaches up the chimney. When the family finally has to move out of the house, mother gets mad "Get that dragon out of my house," she shouts and suddenly the dragon shrinks down to size. So much for an idle tale.
What started with those women's idle tales has just gotten bigger and bigger. The message that began that morning has grown and spread to the whole world. The disciples came to believe, they took that idle tale, that rumor, that exaggeration and carried it throughout the Mediterranean world. Their followers carried on where they left off. That idle tale is bigger than our house, our church, our country-that idle tale has charged the world but more importantly it has charged us. Life is not just a passing moment on the stage-it is not just a tale told by an idiot. Life is more than what we see with our eyes and hear with ears. Life is more than our 21st century minds can comprehend. Life exists in the kingdom of a God who wields the power of love-a love so great it can overcome even death. "God's purpose will ultimately prevail. Service will triumph over exploitation; generosity will triumph over greed; freedom will triumph over bondage; grace will triumph over sin; and love will be victorious over hate." We have heard the women return with their tale and we have come with the disciples to believe. Now it is ours to carry on, to proclaim and share the good news.
The story is told of the great composer Giacomo Puccini. Puccini wrote such works as Madame Butterfly, La Boheme, and La Tosca. In 1922 Puccini was stricken with cancer and decided to write one more opera entitled "Turandot." "But supposed you die?" remarked his students. "Oh," Puccini responded, "my disciples will finish it."
In 1924 Puccini died, and his disciples did indeed finish his opera. The premiere took place in Milan, Italy, at La Scala Opera House, under the baton of Puccini's best student, Arturo Toscanini. The performance proceeded to that point where Puccini had abruptly ended. Toscanini paused and remarked to the audience, "Thus far, the master wrote...and then the master died." Toscanini then picked up the baton and shouted out to the audience, "But his disciples finished his music."
Who will carry on the glorious work of the
savior? The symphony of repentance and renewal is carried out
to its thrilling crescendo through those who have captured the
vision; those who realize the good news that Jesus is risen.
And that is no idle tale.
Alleluia!
