If you’ve listened to any of my recent sermons, you may have noticed that there are no shortage of things troubling me these days: rising authoritarianism, threats to free speech, America’s tarnished reputation on the world stage, and - although I haven’t dared to say this out loud till now - the fact that I can’t fit all of my spices into the spice drawer anymore.

It’s all been driving me a little crazy. I don’t know how it could come to this. I mean, I think we all start out with the best of intentions. By which I mean that we resolve to buy all of our spices from just one company like Penzeys, (any Penzeys fans in the house?) with the hope that they will all coexist nicely in a drawer or look pretty on a shelf.

But then, in moment of desperation, you buy garlic powder at Trader Joes or grab a jar of cumin at Whole Foods and, before you know it, you’re dealing with absolute, unmitigated chaos.

I don’t know about you, but in my kitchen you can fit two Trader Joe’s jars on top of each other and still close the drawer. You can fit two McCormicks over each other too, but they’re round and don’t stack as well. And don’t even get me started with Archer Farms or Simply Organic.

They are just too big to stack and too wide to fit neatly across, so they end up on the counter, which irritates me because in my case those jars don’t even have the good spices in them.

They’re full of things like poppy seeds and powdered ginger and a cream of tartar I’m pretty sure expired during the Obama Administration.

So what did I do this week with the year’s most important sermon hanging over my head and America sliding inexorably into a constitutional crisis? I took control. Yeah.

I completely reorganized my spice drawer from the ground up. I ordered uniform jars and minimalist labels in an effort to finally bring this whole situation back into line. And I’m gonna post of picture of my new and improved spice drawer with this sermon. That or a picture of the resurrected Jesus. I don’t know. Jury is still out on that one.

Are any of you picking up on what I’m laying down here in such a nice, neat, orderly fashion? Anyone else find yourself ordering seeds or hangers or tools these days with plans to lay out a new garden, clean out the front hall closet, or finally fix the fence around your yard? Any one else find themselves rage cleaning the bathroom or completely re-organizing your linens after, oh, I don’t know, maybe reading the news?

I don’t recommend weekly meal preps because … well… knives. But there is something about getting your own house in order that helps you deal with the chaos of the world, isn’t there? Something about doing what you can that helps you handle all the things you just can’t with right now.

Which is just one of many reasons that Luke’s Easter story rings true for me. I look at these women - Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and all the other women with them - and I am struck by their capacity to keep it together even as everything else is falling part.

I can relate to these women who keep going in spite of the fact that their whole world is crumbling. Here they are, utterly voiceless in the face of the courts; utterly powerless in the face of the state. They can’t defend Jesus, stop his enemies, or save him from his fate, and yet the women in this story keep finding things to do.

Unlike the 12 disciples who abandoned Jesus the moment things went south and have all gone to ground, these women continue to dog Jesus at every turn. There is so very little that they can do, and yet they keep showing up to do what they can.

Luke details how they march with him as he makes his way to Golgotha, crying out in grief, letting him know he is precious, loved, and not alone. The women watch as he is crucified. They keep vigil with him until he dies. And even after he has breathed his last, they refuse to abandon him.

They follow Joseph of Arimathea as he negotiates for the release of Jesus’ body and watch as he is wrapped in linen.  Luke tells us that “The women who had come with (Jesus) from Galilee followed, and they saw the tomb and how his body was laid. 56Then they returned, and (rather than collapse or hide or give into despair they) prepared spices and ointments.”

The behavior of these women makes perfect sense to me. I have no trouble believing that even in the midst of their grief they had the wherewithal to go home and get to work. Any of you who have ever lost a loved one know this part of the story is true.

You know how full those first few hours and days can be after a beloved dies; how, even in the fog of grief, you must keep moving and deciding and planning before you can lay your loved one to rest.

All of the paper work, the phone calls, and the decisions that must be made can feel like too much in that moment. And yet can also feel like a blessing because all of that busy work gives you something to do when you don’t know what to do at all.

The women understood this. Perhaps women always have. They did what needed to be done when they didn’t know what else to do and they did it well. They went home and got themselves organized.

They collected themselves even as they collected their spices. And then they resolved to do the next right thing, which was to anoint their beloved Jesus for his burial. They controlled what they could knowing there was so very little they could control at all.

And then, on the first day of the week, at early dawn, with everything in order, they made their way to the tomb; a tomb miraculously empty of Jesus but full of angels.

“Why do you look for the living among the dead,” ask the dazzling men in white? He   is not here, but has risen. 6Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”

Remember.

What a powerful and holy word. Perhaps the only word that could have broken through to them in that moment.

“Remember how he told you…” told you this would happen.

Remember how he told you that unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies it cannot bear much fruit.

Remember how he told you that those who wish to save their lives will lose them.

Remember how he told you that he would be handed over to sinners and be crucified because there is no honor for a prophet in their hometown, because there are consequences when you speak truth to power, because there is risk when you turn the other cheek, stand up with love not force, and bless those who persecute you.

“Remember how he told you…” told you this would happen.

But remember too, how Jesus told you that the first shall be last and the last shall be first.

Remember how he told you that those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

Remember how he told you that the meek shall inherit the earth.

Remember how he told you that on the third day he would rise.

“Remember how he told you…” told you this would happen.

And then, as if someone flipped a switch, Luke tells us that they did remember.

8Then they remembered his words, 9and returning from the tomb, they   told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.

Remembering Jesus breaks the women out of their fog. Remembering his words moves them from a place where they are just going through the motions in order to keep going to a place where they can move with purpose once again.

Because let me tell you a little something about this word for “remember,” - mimnesko in the Greek. Mimnesko doesn’t simply mean to recall or recollect. Remember how Jesus told you this would happen? Well it happened. He was right. Off with you now.

Mm-hmm. No. This word for remember, according to the good people at Saltproject, "means more than just mere recollection.”

It is the same word that Mary sang in the magnificat when she praised God for helping Israel “in remembrance of God’s mercy.”

It is the same word the thief on the cross uses when he says, Jesus “remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

Mary was counting on God to come through for her people like God did when he freed them from slavery in Egypt.

That thief was counting on Jesus to prepare a place for him in heaven.

Mimnesko - this word for “remember” - is the sort of memory that demands action.

Which is why the angels tell them to remember Jesus in this way.

Remember how he said that death is not the end.

Remember how he assured you that tyrants can kill the body but not the soul.

Remember how he said that God gets the last word.

Remember what he said ….and then go and live as if this is true.

According to the people at Salt, “[F]or the women at the tomb,” (remembering what Jesus said) carries the force of an epiphany and a commission.”

They remember what Jesus said and now they know, not just what to do next - which is tell the disciple that the tomb is empty - but what to do going forward. They know that their purpose is to live as Jesus lived, serve as Jesus served, and love as Jesus loved… regardless of the risk…no matter what the cost.

Remember was a powerful word for them in the face of their grief and disillusionment. Remember was a powerful word for them in the face of their powerlessness and pain.

And remember it is a powerful word for us right now in the midst of our own.

Look around you. We are living in a time when books are being banned, histories are being rewritten, dissent is being silenced, identities are being erased, and people are being disappeared. Why? Because authoritarianism depends on collective amnesia.

There is a reason this administration wants you to forget: forget about the people in developing nations whose aid has been cut off, forget about the refugees around the world who were already approved for resettlement, forget about the people of Gaza and Ukraine who placed their hope in us.

This administration wants you to forget names like Harriet Tubman, Colin Powell, and especially Jim Crow, because it makes it easier to forget names like Mahmoud Khalil, Rümeysa Öztürk, and Kilmar Abrego Garcia.

But as people of faith, we remember. That’s why we celebrate holy days like Passover and Easter. It’s not just because we love eggs and lamb and butterflies and spring. We do, but if that’s all you came for this morning, I’m sorry, because Jesus’ resurrection is about so much more than that.

As people of faith we remember that God always hears the cries of the poor and the oppressed. We remember how God freed God’s people from Pharaoh.

We remember the words of God’s prophets that call for justice and mercy to rain down like waters for the sake of all, but especially for the widow, the orphan, the captive, and the refugee.

And we remember Jesus. All that he stood for. All that he died for. All that he said.

And that his death was not the end of the story.

We remember because we know that empires tremble in the face of people who refuse to forget.

We remember because remembering gives us hope in the dark. We remember because this story is our map in the wilderness.

Remembering tells us, not just what to do next, but what to do with our whole lives regardless of the risk…no matter what the cost.

And so on this holiest of holy days we remember.

We remember how he told us that love gets the last word, not hate.

We remember how he told us that life gets the last word, not death.

We remember that God gets the last word, not any pharaoh or emperor, president or king.

We remember “a costly cross and graves shattered door.”

We remember our Jesus who rose from the dead.

We remember that we might find the courage to rise up to. Amen