Monday, April 13, 2020

The Scratchy Easter Dress


Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
April 12, 2020

Easter

          When my sister and I were little girls, Easter meant a scratchy new dress, uncomfortable white shoes, and what I considered to be utterly ridiculous white gloves.  And chocolate.  I imagine that we went to church, although we were not a church going family.  I do remember that we had to stay dressed up through Easter lunch, and then we could change clothes and get back to normal.

          As I grew older, Easter came to involve singing in the church choir, being an acolyte on Easter morning, gratitude that scratchy white dresses were a distant memory, and family Easter traditions that involved things like dinner from McDonalds and sailing on the lake not far from our house.  We were in Arkansas, where it did not snow on April 10!  Easter was a festive day even in our own mostly non-church going family. 

          As an adult, Easter has come to involve incredible arrangements of flowers announcing new life, music that blows the rock away from the tomb, a packed church that sings the Alleluia hymns loudly enough to raise the dead to life, a shared sacred meal, and the sheer joy of Easter that brings people together to give thanks to God. 

          This year, I am thinking a bit more about that scratchy dress and those uncomfortable white shoes.  Easter doesn’t seem to fit this year, and our celebration, I will admit, is a bit uncomfortable.  We will sing, but not together.  We are blessed with Mario on the organ and Jake on the trumpet, but we are missing our choirs.  We do have glorious flowers and raised Alleluias, but I never thought I would preach to an empty church on Easter morning!  Easter this year feels a bit scratchy and uncomfortable.

          We have two choices for the gospel reading this Easter.  One is the beloved reading from John’s gospel in which Mary Magdalene finds the tomb empty, mistakes the risen Jesus for the gardener, and only recognizes Jesus when he calls her by name.  John gives us a wonderful story about tears of grief and the joy of being called by the risen Christ.

          But this morning, we heard from Matthew’s gospel, where a great earthquake occurs on Easter morning and an angel rolls the stone away from the tomb.  Rather than finding the risen Jesus at the tomb, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary hear these words from the angel: “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 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.’”  The risen Jesus meets the women as they flee the tomb to find the disciples, and Jesus repeats those last words. 

          These are the words I know I need to hear this morning.   Mary and Mary Magdalene came to the tomb grieving a great loss, wondering what the future would hold and how they would move into a new normal when the angel says to them “Do not fear.”  As we face the unknown, grieve many kinds of losses, and wonder what the future will look like, as we wear masks to the grocery store and wash our hands until our fingers fall off, we, too, hear the angel say “Do not be afraid.”

          This year, as we come to church on Zoom or Facebook Live, expecting somehow to find Jesus here, the angel says to us, as the angel said to the women who had come looking for Jesus “He is not here for he has been raised.”  The women would have wondered what that meant as resurrection was a foreign concept to them.  We say “what do you mean, he is not here.  Today is Easter!”  And of course, in one sense, Jesus is very much here with us.  But in another sense, we, too, hear the angel say “Jesus is going ahead of you to Galilee.  There you will meet him.”  Galilee is the place where the disciples first met Jesus-the place where they were fishermen and tax collectors-where their regular life happened.  This Easter is a powerful reminder of the promise that Jesus is out and about in the world, meeting us in our every day lives, pandemic or no pandemic.

          Resurrection is not a day or just an event.  Resurrection is Love and Love is a commitment. Resurrection is God’s love, God’s commitment, God’s promise to humankind that ultimately love triumphs over hate and life conquers death.  Easter is our love and our commitment to God that we will live as resurrection people in the face of whatever challenges life throws us.  Sometimes that commitment is loud and joyful and we sing and laugh and hug and kiss, and rejoice in the new life God has given us.  Other times that commitment feels a bit more like that scratchy Easter dress.  That commitment is uncomfortable, takes us places we would rather not go, and feels a lot like work.  I would say to you, however, that Christ Church has never backed off from the challenge of resurrection work.  Time and again, when the going got very hard here and there was no guarantee of success, resurrection people stepped up, rolled up their resurrection sleeves, and did hard resurrection work believing in the promise of new life.  Christ Church has been practicing the power of resurrection for a long time right here.  Drawing on that practice, now more than ever we are called to be resurrection people and take resurrection hope into the world where Jesus is waiting for us, even if that work must be online and physically distant for a while.

Resurrection is not magic.  Resurrection is Love.  This year, perhaps, that Love feels a bit awkward and celebration is a bit of a challenge.  The good news of Easter is that, despite any circumstances or evidence to the contrary, the tomb is empty.  Jesus is risen and will meet us wherever we find ourselves.  Love and life have conquered fear and death.  That is God’s resurrection commitment to us.  Our commitment to God is to live and love as resurrection people, in this time and always.

                                                                                      Amen.

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