Luke 24:36b-48
Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 37They were startled and terrified, and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 38He said to them, “Why are you frightened, and why do doubts arise in your hearts? 39Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” 40And when he had said this, he showed them his hands and his feet. 41While in their joy they were disbelieving and still wondering, he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” 42They gave him a piece of broiled fish, 43and he took it and ate in their presence. 44Then he said to them, “These are my words that I spoke to you while I was still with you—that everything written about me in the law of Moses, the prophets, and the psalms must be fulfilled.” 45Then he opened their minds to understand the scriptures, 46and he said to them, “Thus it is written, that the Messiah is to suffer and to rise from the dead on the third day, 47and that repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in his name to all nations, beginning from Jerusalem. 48You are witnesses of these things.
I’ve tried to be careful not to talk about my daughter, Joy, too much in my sermons since I’ve been back at work. I mean, there is more to my life than being her mommy, although at 4 am it doesn’t always feel that way. But loving her, getting to know her, and looking after her are all taking up a lot of our time as her parents these days—time we never knew we had! She is at the same time the most delightful and most exhausting thing we’ve ever had in our lives. She woos us with her smiles and coos, and she wears us out getting up and down at night, although thankfully far less often than she did a couple of months ago.
But since I’m on the subject, I’d like to share with you some of her qualities which delight me the most: she’s really cute. Her smile lights up a room, and I love the fact that I get one from her just about every time she notices that I have come into the room. She’s playful—she likes to tease with you and play the “Where’s Joy’s nose?” game with her daddy over and over again. She likes church—or at least, she cooperates well so far, even if she does sleep through my sermons. What else is new, right? She likes meeting people. Unless she skipped a nap or bottle, she is as happy as can be to make a new friend. Even though we are her parents, we think she is just about the most perfect baby that ever lived. Some days, the fact that she is mine and I am hers seems almost too good to be true.
What are your experiences of those things in life that are too good to be true?
Sometimes I look at my spouse and think that I can’t believe someone as good and smart as he is has taken me on for life. I am thankful every day for the family in which I was raised—a family with parents who are still married to each other and who made it often on less than a shoestring but who was always able to feed, clothe, and creatively entertain us and who loved us more than anything else. My appointment to be your pastor—what a gift in my life of ministry! Many of my peers ran me down at the annual conference session a couple of years ago—the year I moved here—and wanted to know how I got this appointment. There are many things in my life, both that I am aware of and that I take for granted, that I could put into the category “too good to be true.”
How about you?
You’ve got to feel for these disciples. Doug did a great job of setting the scene for us last week of their gathering. Of course they were afraid. They were human beings, and they had been seeing some crazy stuff happening in those last few days. They had seen Jesus arrested, tried, and killed. They had seen the group fall apart, the others shy away from Jesus’ death. They had received the strange and wonderful news of Jesus’ resurrection from the women who saw the empty tomb. They get that there is a reason for them to stay huddled together, but they don’t know what the reason is. And then he suddenly appears to them, and they wonder if they are seeing a ghost.
It’s a valid question. How could he really be there? Where had he been in the mean time between the cross and now? And what was going to happen next? This passage follows directly after the story of Jesus revealing himself to the two on the walk to Emmaus. They spend quite a while with him without realizing who he is until he is made known to them in the breaking of the bread. All over the place people are discovering that Jesus is not dead after all. He has moved beyond death, and he is flesh again. It is the sharing of meals that proves that he is fully human again and living with them in all the presence he did before. It’s almost as if nothing ever happened and yet it is even better than that. Nothing could ever happen now to break the love of God that is available for all people and that Jesus has clearly demonstrated in a very real and physical way in his death on the cross and resurrection from the grave.
Too good to be true?
One, when I was in seminary, I was preparing a lesson plan for a Sunday school class at the church where I was on staff. I was teaching on early Christian heresies—one in particular that taught that Jesus was not really human but actually was something like a hologram: some sort of 3-dimensional light representation of a human body but consisting of no actual flesh and bone. I was trying to make it easy to grasp but having a difficult time, so I asked my roommate to listen to the presentation and tell me if she could understand it based on what I said. She is Jewish, and that is why I thought it was worth trying on her; she would have an actual objective perspective on the whole thing. When I finished the lesson with her I said, “Isn’t that the craziest thing you’ve ever heard of?” Her response to me was, “Susan, you’re whole religion is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard of. Someone came back from the dead? You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Just so you know, we share a healthy respect for each other’s religious background, beliefs, and practices. But I thought she had a point. It almost sounds just too good to be true.
If you look back at verse 11 in this same chapter, just after the women have discovered that the tomb is empty and they have gone to tell the disciples, the disciples actually don’t believe what they hear. They can’t. It is too fantastic, too “out there”, not possible. Luke wants us to understand, though, that this Jesus who is reunited with the disciples is actual flesh and blood, the way a physician might ask for proof, himself. Let’s prove that he can actually perform regular human-body functions, like eating. So, Jesus asks for food, and he eats. And they all witness it. Wow—he really is there.
Wait a minute: wow! He REALLY is there! He’s back. This is great. We can get back on the healing and teaching circuit. We can get back to work. Our lives will have purpose again. We’re so glad he has rescued us from the depths of failure and despair. Thank God he is back, literally. But, he died. How is this possible? It all seems too good to be true!
It’s ridiculous that someone would come back to life from the dead. It doesn’t make sense that he would die and then have life all over again. That’s not the way things work. And how could all that mourning we’ve been doing for the last several days be all for naught? What comes next for us: will it be exactly like it was before, back when life was full and good and right?
I suspect something about the grief they had experienced made them skeptical. We know how that feels, don’t we? I have grieved with friends over lost pregnancies and lost children. How could I receive such a beautiful child to have for my own? I have seen friends and family members agonize over their search for partners with whom to share their lives. How could I be lucky enough to have found my life’s partner and for him to return my affection and commitment? Surely there are things that seem too good to be true in life that really are. It’s like my favorite old poet, Kilian McDonnell, says in his poem about Abraham and Sara: “…I pasture my flock in the valley/ where Persian Reeds and Lemon Grass/ grow lush and tall, waiting/ for [Yahweh’s] other shoe to fall.” Surely something is going to go wrong, right?
We have learned that lesson in a most painful way in the last year. Our national economy has been jeopardized by the subprime mortgage deals and the subsequent collapse of some of our biggest financial institutions. In those cases, what seemed too good to be true really was. And now we are all literally paying the price for some bad decision-making, the blame for which does not discriminate. And now we wait impatiently to see just how bad it will get before it gets better.
That’s just it. With God’s love for us, there is no other shoe dangling in the proverbial air, waiting to fall right between our eyes and knock us off our foundation. There is no catch or string attached to the resurrection, and we have no control over whether or not the resurrection is real or not or whether or not it saves us. It just is. It just does. God’s love for us as demonstrated in Christ is just that real, that good, too good to be true.
So what does that mean in your life?
Like the disciples in the room with him that day, we are called to be witnesses. While we are not the ones who have eyewitness testimony to share about Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection, we are ones who have witness to share about how our hearts have been warmed and changed by his presence in our lives. And the only way that is even possible for us is that the message of the gospels is true: by taking on human form, God made God’s self become like us so that we could know God, love God, and learn to live the kind of life God intended for us by God showing us that face-to-face. That incarnation came to an end at our hand, but we could not ultimately erase it from time and truth. Instead, the living God is alive eternally in Christ and in us through the Holy Spirit. We now bear witness to the Spirit of God in action in our lives. We tell the stories of how God has changed our lives, how prayer has saved us, how our relationships with other members of the body of Christ have helped us when there seemed no other way we could survive.
Ours is the story to tell: our story of how God is alive in our world and in our lives. While in our joy, there will be disbelief in us, too. But that’s all part of telling the story, of being a witness. It’s not always easy, it doesn’t always make sense, and we certainly do not deserve it, but even when we have turned away and our love has failed, God’s love remains steadfast. It lives. It is eternal. Death cannot change it, bankrupt it, or drop another shoe on it.
Now that is good news. Thanks be to God!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Easter
John 20:1-18
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
“Don’t hold on to me.”
I imagine that the very first thing that Mary wanted to do when she realized it was Jesus that morning in the garden was to embrace him—to be sure that it was real, to calm all the fear and anxiety she had been living with for the last several days. She had seen him die. She was sure they had buried him in this tomb and rolled a stone in front of it. No one had been out since the Sabbath day had come and gone since he had died and been buried. Their whole existence had been turned upside down when he was gone, and now he’s back, and she can’t grab hold of him? I would imagine she and the others would never want to let him go.
In fact, two of the others had just been there. When she first discovered that something was not right at the tomb, she went to Jesus’ right hand and the disciple whom he loved, according to John’s gospel. They came with her to see what had happened, and found nothing. Literally, they found nothing. No body, no thieves, no explanation, and apparently they didn’t even see the angel. They just saw the place where the body had been laid, and in its place they saw the linen wrappings that had been wrapped around it for burial. Now there was no body. John tells us that the beloved disciple saw and believed.
Mary couldn’t believe what she saw. Those guys were no help to her; the very ones whom Jesus trusted and with whom he had shared everything seemed useless in the end. They did come when she asked them to, but they didn’t stay long enough to encounter the gardener. They didn’t yet fully understand what had taken place and how it fulfilled scripture. They simply took in the details of the scene, and then they were gone.
Mary must have been frustrated. She had likely hoped that they would have some kind of explanation for the lack of body she had found. Surely they would know something about this; surely there would be some kind of explanation that she could grasp that might help her make sense, not just of what she was seeing or not seeing now but also of what had been happening these last few days. Everything was wrong: their beloved Jesus had been arrested. What had he ever done that was wrong? He had been tried in the synagogue—the Son of God! Pilate had tried to save his life—the envoy of the Roman Empire had tried to spare the life of a Jew! He had died a cruel and humiliating death while she stood at his feet and watched it happen, and now his body was missing! How confusing and troubling it must have all been.
I imagine it would be something like what one of us might feel like if you were to lose your job, be unable to pay your mortgage, have credit card debt piled up in bills at your door, suffer the loss of a significant life relationship, and then have your car break down and leave you stranded in the home you can’t afford with nothing to do but worry about your piled up bills and mourn the loss of an important relationship. If just one of these happens to us, we feel that the world could quite possibly come to an end, at least as we know it. Try to think of the worst things you can imagine happening to a person all at one time, and that’s how I imagine that Mary and the others felt when Christ was taken away from them. And so to encounter him in the garden near the tomb where his dead body was laid just days before, this would have been utterly unbelievable. Surely she rubbed her eyes, cleaned out her ears, blinked a few times, and pinched herself to be sure it was true. Of course she wanted to run to him. It is what we do when we find ourselves in the very worst situations of our lives and the grace of Jesus breaks through, calls us by name, and pulls us up from the very depths of despair. We want to grab hold of the presence of Christ that reassures us and brings us peace, and we want to hold on to it for dear life. We want Christ’s presence in our time of need, that feeling we get when we are as low as we can go and we feel him lifting us up—we want that feeling to go on forever. We want to grab on to it and never let go.
Didn’t it feel like a foretaste of glory when we sang “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” just a short while ago? Wouldn’t you love to hang on to that feeling whenever you gathered here at St. Paul? What if we sang our hearts out like that every week? What if everything we do here we did with giant grins on our faces and with the kind of energy we sang that hymn? We would probably prefer that to the times we gather for more difficult discussions about money or everyone’s lack thereof, when we gather to settle disputes among us, or when it just feels like our hearts are not in it and it is hard to be here. It sure is better today when are all here for the exact same reason and we are all so happy to be here together. We just want to hold on to that feeling…
“Don’t hold on to me.”
The glory of Easter is not that everything is all chocolate bunnies and sugary peeps and stuffed rabbits and nicely packaged baskets. It is not even new clothes or big family brunches. The glory of Easter, brothers and sisters, is simply that he was not in the tomb. The Son of God, the one sent to love us, the incarnation of the God who created everything was not done in by death and, therefore, neither will we be. The glory of Easter is the very promise that just as Jesus stood in the garden that day when all hope was lost and brought hope back to life right in front of one who loved him as much as any other, we are not separated forever from the ones whom we love by death. Whatever happens to cause us pain in this life is not the end. When all hope is lost, there is still hope to be found!
Today we gather in the moment when Mary realized that it was her Lord, Savior, and Teacher standing before her. It was with great joy that she ran from that tomb to tell the others, and in so doing to tell the world: “I have seen the Lord!”
You have seen him in your life. He has come to you when all hope has been lost, when death and darkness has surrounded you and there seemed to be no breaking in of morning light. He has called your name.
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! Thanks be to God!
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
“Don’t hold on to me.”
I imagine that the very first thing that Mary wanted to do when she realized it was Jesus that morning in the garden was to embrace him—to be sure that it was real, to calm all the fear and anxiety she had been living with for the last several days. She had seen him die. She was sure they had buried him in this tomb and rolled a stone in front of it. No one had been out since the Sabbath day had come and gone since he had died and been buried. Their whole existence had been turned upside down when he was gone, and now he’s back, and she can’t grab hold of him? I would imagine she and the others would never want to let him go.
In fact, two of the others had just been there. When she first discovered that something was not right at the tomb, she went to Jesus’ right hand and the disciple whom he loved, according to John’s gospel. They came with her to see what had happened, and found nothing. Literally, they found nothing. No body, no thieves, no explanation, and apparently they didn’t even see the angel. They just saw the place where the body had been laid, and in its place they saw the linen wrappings that had been wrapped around it for burial. Now there was no body. John tells us that the beloved disciple saw and believed.
Mary couldn’t believe what she saw. Those guys were no help to her; the very ones whom Jesus trusted and with whom he had shared everything seemed useless in the end. They did come when she asked them to, but they didn’t stay long enough to encounter the gardener. They didn’t yet fully understand what had taken place and how it fulfilled scripture. They simply took in the details of the scene, and then they were gone.
Mary must have been frustrated. She had likely hoped that they would have some kind of explanation for the lack of body she had found. Surely they would know something about this; surely there would be some kind of explanation that she could grasp that might help her make sense, not just of what she was seeing or not seeing now but also of what had been happening these last few days. Everything was wrong: their beloved Jesus had been arrested. What had he ever done that was wrong? He had been tried in the synagogue—the Son of God! Pilate had tried to save his life—the envoy of the Roman Empire had tried to spare the life of a Jew! He had died a cruel and humiliating death while she stood at his feet and watched it happen, and now his body was missing! How confusing and troubling it must have all been.
I imagine it would be something like what one of us might feel like if you were to lose your job, be unable to pay your mortgage, have credit card debt piled up in bills at your door, suffer the loss of a significant life relationship, and then have your car break down and leave you stranded in the home you can’t afford with nothing to do but worry about your piled up bills and mourn the loss of an important relationship. If just one of these happens to us, we feel that the world could quite possibly come to an end, at least as we know it. Try to think of the worst things you can imagine happening to a person all at one time, and that’s how I imagine that Mary and the others felt when Christ was taken away from them. And so to encounter him in the garden near the tomb where his dead body was laid just days before, this would have been utterly unbelievable. Surely she rubbed her eyes, cleaned out her ears, blinked a few times, and pinched herself to be sure it was true. Of course she wanted to run to him. It is what we do when we find ourselves in the very worst situations of our lives and the grace of Jesus breaks through, calls us by name, and pulls us up from the very depths of despair. We want to grab hold of the presence of Christ that reassures us and brings us peace, and we want to hold on to it for dear life. We want Christ’s presence in our time of need, that feeling we get when we are as low as we can go and we feel him lifting us up—we want that feeling to go on forever. We want to grab on to it and never let go.
Didn’t it feel like a foretaste of glory when we sang “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” just a short while ago? Wouldn’t you love to hang on to that feeling whenever you gathered here at St. Paul? What if we sang our hearts out like that every week? What if everything we do here we did with giant grins on our faces and with the kind of energy we sang that hymn? We would probably prefer that to the times we gather for more difficult discussions about money or everyone’s lack thereof, when we gather to settle disputes among us, or when it just feels like our hearts are not in it and it is hard to be here. It sure is better today when are all here for the exact same reason and we are all so happy to be here together. We just want to hold on to that feeling…
“Don’t hold on to me.”
The glory of Easter is not that everything is all chocolate bunnies and sugary peeps and stuffed rabbits and nicely packaged baskets. It is not even new clothes or big family brunches. The glory of Easter, brothers and sisters, is simply that he was not in the tomb. The Son of God, the one sent to love us, the incarnation of the God who created everything was not done in by death and, therefore, neither will we be. The glory of Easter is the very promise that just as Jesus stood in the garden that day when all hope was lost and brought hope back to life right in front of one who loved him as much as any other, we are not separated forever from the ones whom we love by death. Whatever happens to cause us pain in this life is not the end. When all hope is lost, there is still hope to be found!
Today we gather in the moment when Mary realized that it was her Lord, Savior, and Teacher standing before her. It was with great joy that she ran from that tomb to tell the others, and in so doing to tell the world: “I have seen the Lord!”
You have seen him in your life. He has come to you when all hope has been lost, when death and darkness has surrounded you and there seemed to be no breaking in of morning light. He has called your name.
Christ is risen! He is risen, indeed! Alleluia! Thanks be to God!
Easter Sunrise
Mark 16:1-8
When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
I used to get a lot of teasing in my last appointment for being tardy: not really from the people in my congregation but from my colleagues in neighboring United Methodist churches. As pastors in the same area, we met together every week to pray, offer each other support and accountability, and to plan ways we could be in ministry together. One of the things we did annually was plan a community-wide Easter sunrise service. Our meetings were Tuesday mornings at 8:30, every week of the year; the Easter sunrise service was one out of 365 and a quarter days. I rarely arrived at our meeting at 8:30 am on Tuesdays, but for 4 years in a row I arrived at the Easter sunrise service no less than a half hour BEFORE it was to start. And to top it off, I was the one who set the starting time for that service because I insisted that the crowd gathered actually see the sun rise during the time we were together. That meant that the service began before 7 am a couple of years. And when I suggested that we meet for worship at 6:30 in the morning, not only did they all tell me I was ridiculous, but they all doubted that I would be able to make it on time, much less early, to such an un-Godly hour. But I was always there and ready to go.
There is something that I dearly love about the early morning Easter service. I like having this one morning of the year when I get up way before anyone should, get ready in the very dark with not even a glimmer of morning sun, and get out on the road and be the only car traveling in either direction. We’ve barely finished with the night when we gather for sunrise worship on Easter Sunday. It’s out of our natural order of things to be up and out so early on a Sunday. The rest of the world doesn’t even get why we get up and out to church on ANY Sunday, and this must seem all the crazier. Normal people work and play in the regular hours of the day—you know, 8-5. When it is the weekend, we have brunch at 10 and stay up late watching TV and movies or spending time with friend or family. We rest so that when our work begins again on Monday morning, we’ll have enough energy to face another week.
Maybe that’s another thing I love about Easter sunrise and it’s upset of the natural order of things to which we’ve grown accustomed: it asks us to consider a new way of looking at work and accomplishment. I go back and forth between being very productive in the night hours and being too sleepy to do anything but fall asleep. But we find that God is hard at work, doing God’s best work in the wee hours of this most holy morning. While we slept, God raised Jesus from the grave and set the order of heaven and earth right again by returning Jesus to his rightful place as the eternal Word of God.
Even though I’m not a morning person, things just seem to be right and at peace on Easter morning, early, when it’s not quite light yet, but the night is over; when sane people are in their beds still sleeping; when coffee makers are just starting to make the morning coffee that will be ready when everyone is finally awake; when the Easter bunny is still delivering last minute baskets. There is a very natural order of things when the faithful, usually only a few, gather to greet the risen Lord, expecting to find things way out of worldly order and the tomb where his dead human body was laid empty.
I think this is the true order of things. It turns everything else upside down. The hardest work is not done 8-5 but while the rest of the world sleeps. Women were the ones given the news and charged to go out and tell it. Nothing is as we might expect it to be, yet everything is finally right.
So many terrible things happen in the cover of night: theft, rape, murder, war. And we continue to sleep through the most devastating hurts of the world. But thanks be to God on this holiest of days that while we slept, while someone somewhere stole human dignity and life, God was working harder than any evil we can point to in the world and turning things upside down. It’s no wonder they fled the tomb terrified. The world suddenly didn’t make sense anymore; and yet, nothing was ever more right.
Christ is risen; he is risen, indeed.
Amen!
When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.
I used to get a lot of teasing in my last appointment for being tardy: not really from the people in my congregation but from my colleagues in neighboring United Methodist churches. As pastors in the same area, we met together every week to pray, offer each other support and accountability, and to plan ways we could be in ministry together. One of the things we did annually was plan a community-wide Easter sunrise service. Our meetings were Tuesday mornings at 8:30, every week of the year; the Easter sunrise service was one out of 365 and a quarter days. I rarely arrived at our meeting at 8:30 am on Tuesdays, but for 4 years in a row I arrived at the Easter sunrise service no less than a half hour BEFORE it was to start. And to top it off, I was the one who set the starting time for that service because I insisted that the crowd gathered actually see the sun rise during the time we were together. That meant that the service began before 7 am a couple of years. And when I suggested that we meet for worship at 6:30 in the morning, not only did they all tell me I was ridiculous, but they all doubted that I would be able to make it on time, much less early, to such an un-Godly hour. But I was always there and ready to go.
There is something that I dearly love about the early morning Easter service. I like having this one morning of the year when I get up way before anyone should, get ready in the very dark with not even a glimmer of morning sun, and get out on the road and be the only car traveling in either direction. We’ve barely finished with the night when we gather for sunrise worship on Easter Sunday. It’s out of our natural order of things to be up and out so early on a Sunday. The rest of the world doesn’t even get why we get up and out to church on ANY Sunday, and this must seem all the crazier. Normal people work and play in the regular hours of the day—you know, 8-5. When it is the weekend, we have brunch at 10 and stay up late watching TV and movies or spending time with friend or family. We rest so that when our work begins again on Monday morning, we’ll have enough energy to face another week.
Maybe that’s another thing I love about Easter sunrise and it’s upset of the natural order of things to which we’ve grown accustomed: it asks us to consider a new way of looking at work and accomplishment. I go back and forth between being very productive in the night hours and being too sleepy to do anything but fall asleep. But we find that God is hard at work, doing God’s best work in the wee hours of this most holy morning. While we slept, God raised Jesus from the grave and set the order of heaven and earth right again by returning Jesus to his rightful place as the eternal Word of God.
Even though I’m not a morning person, things just seem to be right and at peace on Easter morning, early, when it’s not quite light yet, but the night is over; when sane people are in their beds still sleeping; when coffee makers are just starting to make the morning coffee that will be ready when everyone is finally awake; when the Easter bunny is still delivering last minute baskets. There is a very natural order of things when the faithful, usually only a few, gather to greet the risen Lord, expecting to find things way out of worldly order and the tomb where his dead human body was laid empty.
I think this is the true order of things. It turns everything else upside down. The hardest work is not done 8-5 but while the rest of the world sleeps. Women were the ones given the news and charged to go out and tell it. Nothing is as we might expect it to be, yet everything is finally right.
So many terrible things happen in the cover of night: theft, rape, murder, war. And we continue to sleep through the most devastating hurts of the world. But thanks be to God on this holiest of days that while we slept, while someone somewhere stole human dignity and life, God was working harder than any evil we can point to in the world and turning things upside down. It’s no wonder they fled the tomb terrified. The world suddenly didn’t make sense anymore; and yet, nothing was ever more right.
Christ is risen; he is risen, indeed.
Amen!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Palm/Passion Sunday
Mark 14:12-25
12On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” 13So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, 14and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ 15He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.” 16So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.
17When it was evening, he came with the twelve. 18And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” 19They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, “Surely, not I?” 20He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. 21For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.”
22While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” 23Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. 24He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. 25Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”
The journey toward Easter is almost over, my friends. These last several weeks we have been thinking together about our faith journeys—where we see hope that may seem impossible to hold on to, the ways we receive grace for the journey, allowing the Light of the World to lead us out of our darkness, considering the life and death, loss and gain that we go through as we commit ourselves and our lives to Christ. I hope this has been a time of deep self-reflection for you as it has been for me.
And so today we are arrived at Jerusalem with Jesus and the twelve. As the children reminded us, Hosanna was the word on the lips of the crowds as he entered the city. They laid their clothing on the ground for the donkey he was riding to travel over. That is some serious devotion! They waved branches at him in a gesture of honor and praise. It is almost painful for me when I read and hear this story now, knowing what is to come in just the few days that will follow this great celebratory day. The long journey to the holy city is completed for Jesus and the disciples. They are there as were so many other Jews to celebrate the high holy days of Passover—the sacred time in which they gathered to celebrate God’s salvation of the Hebrews out of Egypt as they escaped the slaughter of the children and were able to slip out of Egypt into the dessert.
Remember that story for just a moment: what happiness there must have been as the people were finally able to leave the country that had held them in slavery for so many generations. They just walked out under the hand of God—the God who had always been faithful to them even when they turned away and their faithfulness to God failed. They celebrated and gave thanks, only to turn on God once again as they traveled the desert, complaining about the circumstances of their exodus, the food provided, the time it was taking to get to the Promised Land. And yet, God did not turn God’s back on them; instead God continued to love and lead them to safety and security, and today they continue to give thanks for the faithfulness of God’s journey through the generations of their people even into today.
Now fast-forward yourself to the Passover festival when Jesus and his companions were joined together for a meal. Jesus sits at the celebratory table with the others, likely saying the prayers and recalling the traditions of the meal they share together. They may still be on the high of the entrance into Jerusalem they had just experienced a few days earlier. Things seem to be going well. Jesus just gets more and more popular and well known for his deeds of healing and mercy and his teaching on how God really wants the world and our lives to be—an exodus from the slavery the people continued to live in: slavery to the government of Rome, slavery to the interpretation handed down to them of the Law of God. Jesus breaks the barriers that keep people from fully knowing and loving God and offers a new way of living and journeying through life with God. And these twelve were witnesses to that as we are today through the study of their story with Jesus in the gospels.
What glory they must have been living in since they arrived in the holy city. And so they gather at table with Jesus for this sacred meal, and suddenly they are derailed by his announcement that one of them will betray him, one who sits at that very table and shares the food they all eat. And then he serves them the bread and the wine and shares with them that this is the last time he will receive this meal until he shares in a new way in the kingdom of God. This is too much information to bear: after this climax of Jesus ministry and celebration of him, one of these who have journeyed with him all this way and time will turn on him? How could that be? Not a single one of them could imagine that he would be the one who would do it. Surely not they, who were the insiders of this movement, would be the ones to betray the Son of God whom they had come to know and love and whose power had been at work changing lives all around them, even theirs. It just couldn’t be. And to be sitting at this most holy table, too! How could one of them share in this meal and remember God’s presence and protection for their ancestors while all the while plotting against God’s Son whose presence had offered them new life all these many months they had shared together?
In a few moments we will gather around this holy table here to remember all the mighty acts of God in Jesus Christ and to ask the presence of the Spirit to bind us together into the resurrected body of Jesus Christ who has gone before us to death and has been raised again. We will each respond to the invitation to gather here and receive this sacred food that will be bread for our journey and the cup that fills us with the grace and presence of God. We will come with love in our hearts, offer prayers of thanksgiving and petition while kneeling before the altar of God. Some of us may even join hands with others and shed tears of deep emotion while feeling true communion with God. As it always is, it will be a powerful experience of putting back together the body of the ministry and gospel of Christ. What a beautiful time to be a Christian and part of this community of faith who demonstrates some of the diversity of those called to be at this table from many different situations in life. We are not all perfect, but we are all loved by Christ as he meets us here and offers us the bread of life and the cup of salvation.
And yet, he looks at us across the table and says, “One of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” And we look around at each other and say, “Surely, not I?” Surely I am not the one who will deny that I know him. Surely I will not sell him for money or things of great material value. Surely I will not think that I know better than God how life ought to go and try to do things that force God’s hand to prove that I am right. Surely I will not be the one who comes here for a great celebration and to sing and shout “Hosanna!” and then be conspicuously absent at the cross in just a few days as only a few actually gather to remember the death of Jesus or his resurrection early in the morning on Easter.
Surely I am not the one who will not live up to the name “disciple of Jesus.” I am here in church; I go to Sunday school; I pray a lot of the time; I try to treat people well; I read and study the scriptures; I serve when I can. Surely, it isn’t I?
Surely, it isn’t I?
12On the first day of Unleavened Bread, when the Passover lamb is sacrificed, his disciples said to him, “Where do you want us to go and make the preparations for you to eat the Passover?” 13So he sent two of his disciples, saying to them, “Go into the city, and a man carrying a jar of water will meet you; follow him, 14and wherever he enters, say to the owner of the house, ‘The Teacher asks, Where is my guest room where I may eat the Passover with my disciples?’ 15He will show you a large room upstairs, furnished and ready. Make preparations for us there.” 16So the disciples set out and went to the city, and found everything as he had told them; and they prepared the Passover meal.
17When it was evening, he came with the twelve. 18And when they had taken their places and were eating, Jesus said, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” 19They began to be distressed and to say to him one after another, “Surely, not I?” 20He said to them, “It is one of the twelve, one who is dipping bread into the bowl with me. 21For the Son of Man goes as it is written of him, but woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born.”
22While they were eating, he took a loaf of bread, and after blessing it he broke it, gave it to them, and said, “Take; this is my body.” 23Then he took a cup, and after giving thanks he gave it to them, and all of them drank from it. 24He said to them, “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many. 25Truly I tell you, I will never again drink of the fruit of the vine until that day when I drink it new in the kingdom of God.”
The journey toward Easter is almost over, my friends. These last several weeks we have been thinking together about our faith journeys—where we see hope that may seem impossible to hold on to, the ways we receive grace for the journey, allowing the Light of the World to lead us out of our darkness, considering the life and death, loss and gain that we go through as we commit ourselves and our lives to Christ. I hope this has been a time of deep self-reflection for you as it has been for me.
And so today we are arrived at Jerusalem with Jesus and the twelve. As the children reminded us, Hosanna was the word on the lips of the crowds as he entered the city. They laid their clothing on the ground for the donkey he was riding to travel over. That is some serious devotion! They waved branches at him in a gesture of honor and praise. It is almost painful for me when I read and hear this story now, knowing what is to come in just the few days that will follow this great celebratory day. The long journey to the holy city is completed for Jesus and the disciples. They are there as were so many other Jews to celebrate the high holy days of Passover—the sacred time in which they gathered to celebrate God’s salvation of the Hebrews out of Egypt as they escaped the slaughter of the children and were able to slip out of Egypt into the dessert.
Remember that story for just a moment: what happiness there must have been as the people were finally able to leave the country that had held them in slavery for so many generations. They just walked out under the hand of God—the God who had always been faithful to them even when they turned away and their faithfulness to God failed. They celebrated and gave thanks, only to turn on God once again as they traveled the desert, complaining about the circumstances of their exodus, the food provided, the time it was taking to get to the Promised Land. And yet, God did not turn God’s back on them; instead God continued to love and lead them to safety and security, and today they continue to give thanks for the faithfulness of God’s journey through the generations of their people even into today.
Now fast-forward yourself to the Passover festival when Jesus and his companions were joined together for a meal. Jesus sits at the celebratory table with the others, likely saying the prayers and recalling the traditions of the meal they share together. They may still be on the high of the entrance into Jerusalem they had just experienced a few days earlier. Things seem to be going well. Jesus just gets more and more popular and well known for his deeds of healing and mercy and his teaching on how God really wants the world and our lives to be—an exodus from the slavery the people continued to live in: slavery to the government of Rome, slavery to the interpretation handed down to them of the Law of God. Jesus breaks the barriers that keep people from fully knowing and loving God and offers a new way of living and journeying through life with God. And these twelve were witnesses to that as we are today through the study of their story with Jesus in the gospels.
What glory they must have been living in since they arrived in the holy city. And so they gather at table with Jesus for this sacred meal, and suddenly they are derailed by his announcement that one of them will betray him, one who sits at that very table and shares the food they all eat. And then he serves them the bread and the wine and shares with them that this is the last time he will receive this meal until he shares in a new way in the kingdom of God. This is too much information to bear: after this climax of Jesus ministry and celebration of him, one of these who have journeyed with him all this way and time will turn on him? How could that be? Not a single one of them could imagine that he would be the one who would do it. Surely not they, who were the insiders of this movement, would be the ones to betray the Son of God whom they had come to know and love and whose power had been at work changing lives all around them, even theirs. It just couldn’t be. And to be sitting at this most holy table, too! How could one of them share in this meal and remember God’s presence and protection for their ancestors while all the while plotting against God’s Son whose presence had offered them new life all these many months they had shared together?
In a few moments we will gather around this holy table here to remember all the mighty acts of God in Jesus Christ and to ask the presence of the Spirit to bind us together into the resurrected body of Jesus Christ who has gone before us to death and has been raised again. We will each respond to the invitation to gather here and receive this sacred food that will be bread for our journey and the cup that fills us with the grace and presence of God. We will come with love in our hearts, offer prayers of thanksgiving and petition while kneeling before the altar of God. Some of us may even join hands with others and shed tears of deep emotion while feeling true communion with God. As it always is, it will be a powerful experience of putting back together the body of the ministry and gospel of Christ. What a beautiful time to be a Christian and part of this community of faith who demonstrates some of the diversity of those called to be at this table from many different situations in life. We are not all perfect, but we are all loved by Christ as he meets us here and offers us the bread of life and the cup of salvation.
And yet, he looks at us across the table and says, “One of you will betray me, one who is eating with me.” And we look around at each other and say, “Surely, not I?” Surely I am not the one who will deny that I know him. Surely I will not sell him for money or things of great material value. Surely I will not think that I know better than God how life ought to go and try to do things that force God’s hand to prove that I am right. Surely I will not be the one who comes here for a great celebration and to sing and shout “Hosanna!” and then be conspicuously absent at the cross in just a few days as only a few actually gather to remember the death of Jesus or his resurrection early in the morning on Easter.
Surely I am not the one who will not live up to the name “disciple of Jesus.” I am here in church; I go to Sunday school; I pray a lot of the time; I try to treat people well; I read and study the scriptures; I serve when I can. Surely, it isn’t I?
Surely, it isn’t I?
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