Shock and awe

Sermon by Pr. Craig Mueller on the Resurrection of Our Lord + Sunday, April 5, 2026

It’s not quite the earthquake in the gospel, but it did get your attention! A bit of shock and awe. 

To the gospel writer Matthew, the resurrection of Jesus is earthshaking. The Greek word is seismos, and means shaking, shock, earthquake. In seismic events, nothing is certain. Nothing is the same. Nothing is stable.

A brilliant, terrifying angel rolls back the stone and sits on it. As if to mock the empire that rolled the stone there in the first place. As if to mock the power of death itself.

Shock and awe! We recognize the term. It was used to describe the initial attacks of a previous war. The explosives meant not only to kill and defeat an enemy, but also to demoralize them with shocking force. But awe. Dread and fear, yes. But awe? Awe is a religious term. Often reserved something transcendent. Perhaps God!

Nonetheless, “shock and awe” was used by one commentator several months ago to name the uncertainty and volatility we are living through globally and nationally. Economic, geopolitical and technological risks accelerating at unparalleled speed.

Maybe you find it challenging to celebrate Easter when hope feels elusive. Some officials say we are currently fighting a holy war, using Christian language to defend it. Some refer to Armageddon and the return of Christ. Yet rather than using sober language about any loss of life, macho images from sports and video games have been used. As if we haven’t been already shocked—and unfortunately numbed—by the daily barrage of bigotry, corruption, and racism. Shock yes. But there is no awe. No humility. Only reverence for unbridled power. 

If you study history, you know all of this is nothing new. Tyrants and empires spare nothing to safeguard their power and silence critics and foes. Such people and movements use death to advance their terrible ends. Violence is sometimes given a sacred status. Yet redemptive violence only goes so far. Eventually all too often we become the evil we hate.

At Easter we recall shock and awe. The shock that a crucified man—

someone Rome sought to make a nobody—was raised from the dead. In the story the guards tremble.

In the present the world trembles. We tremble. The power of God is always for the sake of life. Not only life after death. The defeat of death in the midst of life. We celebrate the original shock and awe. The death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. As one writer puts it, the defeat of death in the midst of life frees us to love our neighbor and enemy, share our bread with the hungry, safeguard the refugee, and forgive those who sin against us.

There is plenty of shock to deal with. What we are short of is: awe. And Easter is about awe. Dachner Keltern is a scholar who has studied the science of awe and how it can transform our lives. You can read his highly recommended book (and shouldn’t an Easter sermon come with a book recommendation.) It’s a simple title, Awe. Keltner defines awe as the feeling of being in the presence of something transforms our current understanding of the world. We can be awed by moral beauty—by virtue and character. Awe gets us outside of our small selves. It forces us to reevaluate our place in the world. Awe can happen in nature. Awe can happen walking down the street and noticing spring flowers pushing through the earth. Awe can happen in art, music, and ritual. Awe can happen in church. Awe can happen in community. In protests and demonstrations. 

Awe is an Easter word! Awe brings us back to life. Awe is resurrection itself.

Many have been awe-inspired by the life of Etty Hillesum. Etty is the Dutch Jewish author murdered in Auschwitz in 1943. In the midst of unspeakable tragedy, she was able to stay human. She was awed by nature and the dignity of human interaction. Even when she sensed she would be part of the mass extermination of Jews under Hitler, she did not lose sight of the beauty of each day and the beauty of love. While being interned in a transit camp she wrote:

The sky is full of birds, the purple lupins stand up so regally and peacefully, two little old women have sat down for a chat, the sun is shining on my face – and right before our eyes, mass murder…

But if you do not clear a decent shelter for your sorrow, and instead reserve most of the space inside you for hatred and thoughts of revenge, then sorrow will never cease in this world and will multiply. And if you have given sorrow that space its gentle origins demand, then you may truly say: life is beautiful and so rich. So beautiful and so rich that it makes you want to believe in God.

These words by an anonymous writer speak powerfully to me about holding both shock and awe, grief and gratitude at the same time:
Life is not one thing or the other.

It is the soft ache of holding both.

We are joy and sorrow,

certainty and confusion,

becoming and unraveling, all at once.
Wholeness is not tidy.

It is the quiet grace of saying yes

to what is beautiful

and what is broken

in the same breath.

Here we find balance—

not by solving life

but by loving it as it is.

Amid the changes and chances of life. Amid the risks and uncertainties before us. Amid the transitions in society and in this congregation. Amid all the things that shake and shock us, we gather in this sacred place to be awed. Awed by the resurrection of Christ. Awed by the rebirth of spring. Awed by the baptism of Malachai last evening. Awed by this vibrant community. Awed by a gospel of unconditional welcome and inclusion. Awed by a mission that sends us into the world as peacemakers and healers. Awed by a God whose power is shown in the weakness of the cross, yet vindicated in the resurrection. Awed by the presence of the risen Christ among us this day in bread and wine. 

Dear people of God, do not let the forces of this world steal your joy. The early followers of Jesus were transformed by the empty tomb and by a mysterious presence that called them back to life from their sadness and grief. Do not let them steal your joy. We declare in this place: Love wins. Love is victorious. It is the earth-shattering message that changes our hearts and changes the world. Amen.