Joyful Anticipation

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
May 16, 2021

7 Proper B 

          Last week, we entered yet another chapter in the ongoing waiting game aspect of Covid-19.  We have waited for the shut-down to end, for schools to reopen, for supplies of toilet paper and Clorox wipes to appear on the shelves.  We have waited to see our loved ones.  We have waited for a vaccine and for in-person worship.  We are still waiting to hug and to sing.  Now we enter yet another liminal waiting time as the CDC has lifted the mask mandate in most cases for people who have been vaccinated, and the governor has done likewise.  Because we are an Episcopal Church and under the authority of our bishop, we wait for his directives about how we will live and worship together as restrictions begin to be lifted.  But I think what most of us are really waiting for is for life to get back to normal.

          The disciples are also waiting this morning.  Last Thursday was the feast of the Ascension when the 11 remaining disciples watched as Jesus rose into heaven.  After ordering the disciples not to leave Jerusalem, one of the last things Jesus said to the disciples was “‘This is what you have heard from me; for John baptized with water, but you will be baptized with the Holy Spirit not many days from now.”  A few verses later, immediately before his ascension, Jesus said “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  However much the disciples might have wanted their lives to get back to normal, this is a pretty big clue that “normal” is not going to happen.

          So, the disciples wait.  They do not know what they are waiting for, other than to be baptized with the Holy Spirit, but they don’t have a clue what that means or how their lives will be changed.  But the way they wait can teach us a lot about how to wait faithfully, even when we don’t know exactly what we are waiting for, or when whatever we are waiting for will happen, or what the new normal will look like. 

          First, the disciples watched to see where God was at work, even as they waited.  They looked for the way scripture was being fulfilled in their midst and how God was using even unfortunate circumstances, like the betrayal of Jesus by Judas, to do something new in their midst.  What is God doing in our midst as we wait for the days of Covid-19 to end?

          Secondly, the disciples did not wait passively.  There was no grass growing under their feet as they waited for whatever the ascended Jesus had in store for them.  They got to work choosing a disciple to replace Judas so the twelve could get about the work of witnessing to the resurrection.  The believers prayed and cast lots, choosing Matthias as the new disciple.  What work is God calling us to do while we wait?

          Thirdly, the disciples prayed.  In the case of this morning’s reading from Acts, they prayed about who to choose to replace Judas. They did not rely on their own judgement to make decisions while they waited.  They knew they could not see everything God had in store for them, what they would need going forward, or how they might be called to witness to the resurrection.  They prayed and sought God’s guidance.  For what do we need to pray during this time of waiting?

          The disciples are not the only ones who prayed in our readings this morning.  As Jesus approaches his crucifixion in the reading from John, Jesus prays for his disciples.  Jesus’ prayer is long and elegant, but what his words boil down to is this.  Jesus prays that the disciples will always know to whom they belong.  They belong to God.  They are sent into the world, as Jesus was sent, to show the world what belonging to God looks like.  The world will not always understand or appreciate their efforts.  But they belong to God. 

          The disciples came together to watch for what God was doing in their midst, to do the work God was calling them to do even while they waited, and they prayed.  They did all this together.  Jesus’ disciples were together when Jesus prayed for them.  They were not together waiting for life to get back to normal, however.  They were together waiting for the new life God had in store for them.  They could trust God with that unknown future because they knew they belonged to God, which meant they could wait, not anxiously, but with joyful anticipation. 

As we wait for whatever our new life will be like post-pandemic, what the new normal will be, God calls us to wait together, to watch together for what God is already doing in our midst, to witnesses together to the power of God’s love while we wait, and to pray as we discern what God is calling us to do and be as we move forward.  But most of all, God calls us to remember to whom we belong so that we wait with joyful anticipation for whatever the future holds.

                                                                             Amen.

 

 

Joy

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
May 9, 2021

6 Easter B 

          Markie was the mother of one of my dearest friends.  She would have been 100 years old this year and was an incredibly faithful, joyful, loving person to the very end of her life.  Markie always treated me like part of the family when we were together, and she had an abundance of love to share.

          The last time I saw Markie was at her daughter’s funeral in 2008.  Markie was such a radiant person that one could easily think that she had born no grief and carried no sorrow.  Yet nothing could be further from the truth.  In addition to losing her daughter, Markie had been widowed three times over the course of her 90 years.  So much loss, and yet Markie was never without a genuine smile.

          I asked Markie once how she could keep on loving as she did when she had experienced so much loss.  She answered with her characteristic smile. The joy and the love outweigh the pain of loss and once that has been proven true the first time, you know you can trust that love in the future.  I am also sure that the joy and the love sustained her through each loss as well.

          I think about Markie and her joy when I hear Jesus say to his disciples “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.  If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love….I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.”  Abiding, love, and joy.  What could be easier?

          Jesus’ words this morning come from what is called the Farewell Discourse in John’s gospel.  Despite his impending betrayal, trial, and crucifixion, and all the challenges that are ahead for the disciples, Jesus tells his followers that they are to love one another as he has loved them so that his joy may be in them and their joy may be complete.  Clearly, given the circumstances, joy is not the absence of hardship or suffering, nor is Jesus talking about the kind of joy that wears off after a while, like chocolate joy, sunshine joy, covid-vaccine joy, or even holding a baby joy or finally spending time with loved ones joy.  If Jesus’ joy is to be in the disciples, that joy must have something to do with being connected to Jesus.  But what?

Jesus also says to the disciples “You are my friends if you do what I command you.”  What Jesus has commanded the disciples is that they love one another.  At that moment, Jesus’ command probably sounds pretty easy.  Why would they not love each other?  But what the disciples will soon learn is that obeying Jesus’ command means loving each other even on the worst day of their lives as Jesus is crucified, loving Judas despite his betrayal of Jesus, and loving each other as they figure out how to make a gospel difference in the world without Jesus’ physical presence in their lives. 

But what does Jesus mean when he says that the disciples are his friends?  Clearly the disciples are not Jesus’ peers, nor are they just some fun people that Jesus hangs out with.  Jesus is calling the disciples his friends in the deepest sense of the word.  The disciples are the people with whom Jesus can bare his soul and be vulnerable.  Jesus can speak to the disciples about abiding in his love, not as a master demands his servant do something, but as a friend implores someone to do what is best for them.  The disciples are now connected to Jesus in a new way, as trusted friends rather than as servants.

The joy Jesus wants for his disciples is the joy of being fully connected to Jesus.  That joy is not the absence of pain or suffering, but instead is a joy that makes us vulnerable to both God and the world and willing to risk pain, just as Jesus was willing to be vulnerable.  Jesus’ joy is a joy that takes risks for the gospel as Jesus did.  We see Peter, one of the disciples, taking a risk for the gospel this morning in the reading from Acts as he orders the baptism of all on whom the Spirit has fallen, whether they are Jew or Gentile.  While that action may seem fairly obvious to us, the baptism of Gentiles was a bold and risky move at the time, one that spread God’s love in new ways and expanded the horizons of Jesus’ friendship circle in ways that were not always comfortable. 

This morning, we will baptize Ashton and Stratton Parker.  The joy and power of baptism does not mean the absence of any pain or suffering.  The joy of baptism means being washed in the deep abiding love of Jesus so that these boys can abide in God’s love and experience the kind of love and joy that my friend Markie knew-the love and joy that is worth the risk of vulnerability and pain, and the love and joy that will see them through whatever life sends their way.  Jesus commanded his disciples to love one another as he loves them so that Jesus’ joy could be in them and their joy could be complete.  Our promise as the church, as those who say that we will support these children in their new life in Christ, is to obey that command and be that love, to abide in that love as a community, and to be deeply connected with Jesus.  Through our love for each other, and the way our loves spills out these doors and makes a gospel difference in the world, we will show Ashton and Stratton the power and joy of abiding in God’s love.

                                                                             Amen.

Fruit

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
May 2, 2021

5 Easter B 

          Last weekend, two fully vaccinated long-time friends and I got together for the first time in many months.  Lisa lives in Cincinnati and Cathy lives in Columbus so the three of us span 1-71 in Ohio.  We are not childhood friends, or even college friends, but we have been friends long enough to complete each other’s sentences and generally know what the other is thinking.  During the pandemic, we have texted, talked by phone, emailed, and zoomed.  But while all of those ways of communicating kept us connected on one level, aware of what was going on in each other’s lives and able to both see and hear each other, being physically present with each other nourished our souls well beyond what any zoom call could, as wonderful as those were when we could not be together in-person.  Being together last weekend was a reminder, as if we needed one, of how we are nourished and sustained by our deep connections with each other. 

          Jesus is talking about even deeper connection this morning when he describes the way he and God are connected as vine and vine grower, and the way Jesus and his disciples are connected as vine and branches.  Jesus states this as fact.  “I am the vine.  You are the branches.”  Jesus does not say “You are the branches once you have earned being a branch or once you prove that you can bear fruit.”  Being a branch of the Jesus vine is simply who we are as Jesus’ disciples.  The intensity of that relationship is described when Jesus says “Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing.”  Nothing.  Apart from Jesus, we can do nothing.  But if we abide in Jesus, we will bear much fruit.

          So, how do we bear that fruit? 

          Jesus tells us that if we abide in him, as the branch abides on the vine, we will naturally bear much fruit, just as the branches do.  Yes, some fertilizer, pruning, and other gardening-type tasks help the branches bear more and better fruit, and we do that by nourishing our relationship with Jesus.  Prayer, Bible study, worship, and our additional spiritual disciplines, whether done together or individually, all nourish our relationship with the vine.  But the fruit comes naturally because bearing fruit is what the vine just does.

          What is the fruit that we are to bear as followers of Jesus? Our readings from 1 John this Easter season are pretty clear that the fruit we are to bear is love.  I John picks up on Jesus’ words this morning when the writer says “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.”  1 John comes down very hard on those who do not love their brothers and sisters, their fellow human beings: “Those who say, ‘I love God,’ and hate their brothers or sisters, are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.”  Love is the fruit of the Jesus vine.

          Neither Jesus nor 1 John is talking about either sentimental love, or selective love.  If we want to know what the fruit of the Jesus vine looks like, what the love of someone who abides in God looks like, we need look no further than our reading from Acts this morning and the encounter between Philip and the Ethiopian eunuch.  Philip, at the urging of an angel of God, travels a wilderness road he had not planned to take.  Philip sees the Ethiopian and, at the angel’s urging, does not walk but runs up to the chariot where Philip hears the Ethiopian reading the prophet Isaiah out loud.  Philip is in no hurry to be on his way and takes time to explain the scriptures, leading the Ethiopian to desire baptism, which Philip does.  Then Philip is snatched away by the Spirit, and the Ethiopian went on his way rejoicing. 

This odd little story teaches us much about the kind of radical love that is the fruit of those who abide in God.  First, that love will often be inconvenient.  Following the wilderness road from Jerusalem to Gaza was not on Philip’s agenda when he woke up that morning.  But Philip went, obedient to the urgings of the Spirit, and gave generously of his time to explain the scriptures to the Ethiopian.  Secondly, the love that comes from abiding in Jesus does not discriminate.  The Ethiopian, while a trusted member of the Queen’s court, was nonetheless an outsider in society because he was a eunuch.  Philip does not blink when he is told by the Spirit to go over to the Ethiopian’s chariot and get in, nor does he hesitate to baptize the Ethiopian.  And thirdly, Philip knows his scripture so well and is so nourished by the scriptures that he has no problem explaining the passage to the Ethiopian.

Jesus reminds his followers that our connections with God, each other, and the whole human family are a fact which is why, during this pandemic, we have missed being together in person so very much.  But Jesus also reminds us that as deep and wonderful as our connections with each other may be, those connections are not an end in themselves.  They are designed to bear fruit that will last.  That fruit is love-love that will sometimes be inconvenient, love that transcends any differences between or among human beings, and love that needs to be nourished to be healthy.  That kind of radical love is impossible for Jesus’ followers if we are not nourished by our attachment to the vine.  Jesus is the vine.  We are the branches.  When we abide in Jesus, and are nourished by the vine, we will bear love that will last even and especially as we see our way through our current challenges.

                                                                   Amen. 

Lucy Harvey

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
April 18, 2021

Lucy Harvey 

          The annual Christmas pageant is a big deal at Christ Church for a whole variety of reasons, as is true in many churches.  At Christ Church, you might be impressed with the well-crafted stage sets, the camel that sways to the hymns, or the little sheep that tend to be everywhere except where they are supposed to be.  But for me and for many, the highlight of the pageant is the angel who comes up the aisle with all the other angels to give glory to God and worship the baby Jesus.  However, this joyful angel is in her wheelchair being pushed by an adult or older angel.

          This angel, of course, is our Lucy.  Throughout scripture, angels are messengers sent by God.  The message they are sent to bring is often a challenging one, such as when Gabriel told Mary that she would bear a child, or when the angel appears to Isaiah to send Isaiah off on a difficult mission.  There were certainly challenges to the message the angel Lucy brought us.  But in the Christmas story, the angels bring good news of great joy to all the people.   Lucy, as a Christmas angel, sums up the good news of great joy for all of us.

          What is this good news?  In 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul reports that God said to him “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."  This is similar to what Jesus says in the reading from John when asked “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?’”  Jesus responds “‘Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God’s works might be revealed in him.”  God’s power is made perfect in weakness, whether the weakness of a baby born in a manger, or the weakness of a man hanging on a cross, or the weakness of a child with challenging medical and development disabilities, or the weakness of our own challenges that bring us to our knees.

          Lucy showed us what God’s power looks like.  God’s power is found in “whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, and whatever is commendable” in the words of the reading from Philippians.  God’s power is found in love that is “patient, and kind, not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude, love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things,” in the words of 1 Corinthians.  God’s power is a power that is present with us so that we are not overwhelmed by the rivers of live nor consumed by life’s flames.  As a Christmas angel, a messenger from God, being present with us in her wheelchair, singing along in her own way, Lucy brought us the good news of God’s presence with us, God’s love for us, and God’s claim on our lives… in a way almost too deep for words.  The power of God is made perfect in our weakness. 

          The words of Isaiah hold true this day as we grieve the death of Lucy.  Grief is terribly hard work and can make us feel horribly weak.  But God says to us “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.”  Grief is the power of love at work, love that bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

          What our love believes and proclaims is that Lucy lives on in the lives of those who received her organs and tissues, an incredible gift of life.  Lucy lives on in our lives when we live with the love, patience, pureness, and strength that she taught us in her 14 years.  But, as Christians, above all, our love believes and proclaims that Lucy was joined with Jesus in his death and resurrection at her baptism 14 years ago.  In her death on Easter night, Lucy joined Jesus in that place where the power of love is stronger than any other power, where the power of life is stronger than the power of death, and where God’s power has been made perfect in Lucy.

                                                                                      Amen.

Hunger

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
April 18, 2021

3 Easter B

When I was a child, Casper the Friendly Ghost was one of my favorite TV cartoons.  The options were limited in the early 60's, but Casper captured my heart.  Casper was a child ghost, a friendly ghost, who wanted nothing more than other children to play with.  The children in the cartoon adored Casper and envied his abilities to walk through closed doors, fly, let people walk right through him, appear and disappear whenever he wanted to.  Adults, on the other hand, were terrified of Casper.  All they could see was a ghost.  Ghosts were scary, even evil, so Casper was not someone that the adults wanted around their children.  Many hearts were broken throughout the cartoon series, but by the end of each episode, Casper was the hero because Casper had done something no one else could do to save the day, simply because Casper was a ghost. 

          When the risen Jesus appeared among the disciples, they were startled and terrified because they thought they were seeing a ghost.  I sometimes wonder how the story would be told if Jesus had appeared to a group of children.  “Wow!”  I can hear them say.  “How did you do that?”  “What was it like in the tomb?”  “How’d you get out?”  What kind of noise did it make?” “Can we touch you?”  But children are absent from the resurrection stories, for whatever reason, and we get the adult response to the resurrected Jesus.  To prove that he is not a ghost, Jesus says “Look 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 that you see that I have.”  While their terror was replaced by joy, the disciples were still disbelieving and wondering.  So Jesus asks “Have you anything to eat?”  And Jesus is given a piece of broiled fish which he eats in their presence.  Eating proves to the disciples that not only is this Jesus, but that Jesus is truly alive; not a ghost, but a living, breathing, eating, resurrected human being.

          “Have you anything to eat?”  We have heard Jesus ask that question before.  Jesus asks that question when there are 5000 people to be fed and he takes the few loaves and fish that he is given and blesses that food and all 5000 people are fed with baskets of food left over.  At the last supper, Jesus takes the bread and wine that he is given, blesses it and gives it to the disciples.  On the road to Emmaus, immediately before our gospel lesson this morning, Jesus takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to the two disciples he was with and they recognized him.  There are many stories in the gospels where Jesus takes food and gives it to others.  And we expect this story to be the same when Jesus says “Have you anything to eat?”         

However, this story is different.  Jesus takes the fish he is offered and eats it himself.  He eats it, not just to prove that he is alive, but because the resurrection has created a new reality.  Before, Jesus did the feeding.  Jesus fed others that they might know him in the breaking of the bread, that they might know the power and the love of God.  Now, the disciples are to feed Jesus, that the world may know the power and love of God.  

          This new Easter reality is reflected in the reading from Acts where the same Peter who denied Jesus three times is now speaking to his fellow Jews about the power of God to change lives, a power Peter experienced for himself on Pentecost.  The people are gathered at the temple where a man lame from birth has been healed through the action of Peter and John.  The people are amazed at what Peter and John have done, but Peter knows that the two apostles have simply been vessels for God’s power.  Peter, a Jew, is speaking to Jews about the power of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob to overcome death, to forgive, to heal, and to make all things new.  Peter wants the world to know the new reality that has been created by the power and love of God.

          The resurrected Jesus comes to us, not as a ghost, but in a variety of people with a variety of hungers and says “Have you anything to eat?”  People are hungry to know the power and love of God.  Some are hungry for physical food and our work with the Hudson Food Pantry and Open M helps show them the love of God.  Some are hungry for a place to live and we serve them through Habitat for Humanity and Family Promise.  Some are hungry for the safety and security that comes from getting out of a violent relationship, and we are working to serve them through our support of Hope and Healing, also known as the Battered Women’s Shelter of Akron, with our auction that begins today.  Some are hungry for justice and equality, and we work to better understand the systemic racism and put an end to racially motivated violence.  And many are spiritually hungry to hear some Good News, to know that the world they live in is not all there is, to know that the pain they experience does not define their self-worth, to live knowing that death does not have the final word.  We feed them by proclaiming the good news of Easter with both our words and our actions.

          In this new post-Easter world, Jesus feeds us with his body and his blood, opening our minds to understand the scriptures and the claim of the resurrected Jesus on our lives.  Then Jesus asks us to feed him, that the hungry world around us might receive the food for which they are starving and know the power and love of God.  “Have you anything here to eat?”  Easter calls us to live with eyes wide open so that when we hear those words, in whatever form they take, we do not see a ghost, but we recognize the face of Jesus.

Amen 

New

 

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
April 11, 2021

2 Easter B 

          For the last several months, as most of you know, we have been under construction at Christ Church.  Our Parish Hall has been completely redesigned and is not only more functional, but perfectly gorgeous.  The new restrooms will surprise and delight you.  The Memorial Garden will be more open and more easily used for outdoor services and functions.  And while we do not have occupancy permits yet so we cannot yet use our new space, the staff can now cut through the building rather than having to go outside to get from our offices in Beebe House to the restrooms in the undercroft of the church.  The challenge is rerouting our thinking about how we move about the building because the traffic patterns are definitely different.  We are up for the challenge!    

          While the new normal of our building is an external shift, we also enter a new normal as more and more people get Covid-19 vaccines.  This has been more of an internal shift for me.  Masks, hand sanitizer, social distancing, and avoiding large crowds are still part of our day-to-day life as CDC, state, and diocesan guidelines indicate and as we combat surges of virus variants.  But internally, I have to say, I have felt a shift, especially as we begin to regather for in-person worship.  I am filled with joy and hope as we look to a time, yet in the future, when we can gather, sing, hug, and even eat cake together, all without masks.  My internal life has begun a shift.

          The disciples are experiencing such a shift this morning.  The story begins on Easter evening, after they have heard from Peter and the other disciple that the tomb is empty and after they have heard from Mary Magdalene about her experience of the risen Christ.  The tomb is empty. Mary has seen the risen Christ!  Where are the alleluias?  The disciples are afraid and hiding.

          This passage is problematic because we are told that the disciples are hiding for fear of the Jews.  Passages such as this one have been wrongly used over the centuries to blame the Jewish people of Jesus’ time and the Jewish people as a whole through out the centuries for the death of Jesus.  The tensions between the early Christians and the Jewish people are certainly at play in this gospel, but John’s gospel is also clear that no one took Jesus’ life from him.  Jesus, a Jew, gave up his life for the life of the world as an act of love.  Any use of violence or hatred in the name of the God of love is simply wrong. 

          The real problem this morning is not who the disciples are afraid of.  The real problem is that the disciples are hiding because they are afraid.  The problem is with the disciples, not those they fear.  The tomb is empty, and Mary has seen the risen Christ, but neither the external nor the internal pattern of the disciples’ lives has changed.  They are hiding behind a locked door.  But a locked door does not stop Jesus.  Jesus enters and says “Peace be with you.”  Then Jesus says “As the Father has sent me, so I send you,” and he breathes the Holy Spirit on them.

          Thomas  was not hiding behind a locked door on Easter evening.  He is probably out trying to get on with his life, despite his grief and disappointment.  We know he is not out witnessing to the risen Christ because when he catches up with the disciples in the locked room, he refuses to believe that they have seen the risen Jesus unless he, too, sees Jesus’ wounds. 

          One week later, having seen the risen Jesus, having been sent as Jesus was sent, and having received the Holy Spirit, where are the disciples?  Still in that same room.  Easter has still not changed the patterns of their life, either externally and gotten them out of that room or internally and transformed them into witnesses to the resurrection.  And yet, Jesus shows up in that room again, to offer proof to Thomas that Jesus is, indeed, alive.

          We know that the disciples were indeed transformed by the resurrection and the patterns of their lives changed, both internally and externally.  Our reading from Acts this morning and our readings throughout the Easter season testify to their powerful transformation from fearful disciples to dynamic witnesses to the resurrection and the power of God’s love.  

          On this Sunday after Easter, we begin to move into new pattens of life together at Christ Church as we begin to live into both our new building, which was a bold action of the vestry in the midst of a pandemic and economic uncertainty, and our regathering process, a process that is too slow for some and too soon for others.  Both actions are about moving forward into a new future rather than moving back into old habits.  Both are about living in the faith and hope of the resurrection rather than hiding in fear.  Even though both actions are about our coming together as the Body of Christ here in this place, both actions are really about our ability to live as sent people.  A year ago, when we were sent home because of the pandemic, we were actually sent out into the world in a new way.  Jesus sent us all kinds of new places over the past 12 months, taking our life together out into the world online and showing us new ways to serve the world.   Even in the midst of a pandemic, Jesus called us forward, not backwards. 

          We regather in-person for worship and we will gather in our new space, not as an end in itself, but to better nourish us to be sent people, transformed by the power of the empty tomb and the risen Christ.  The patterns of our life together will shift both externally in our building and internally in our spiritual lives as we live into both realities.  Jesus calls us forward into new ways of being sent people, ways we have yet to discover, but ways that we will discover together.

                                                                             Amen.

Open

Charlotte Collins Reed
Christ Church Episcopal
April 4, 2021

Easter Day 

          When I was in seminary, the Great Vigil of Easter was held very early on Easter morning.  Only in seminary can a worship service begin well before 5am and 100% attendance be expected!  Most of the faculty, seminarians and their families lived on the seminary campus, so between 4 and 4:30 on Easter morning, we would walk across the parking lot from the residences to the seminary chapel.  In all honesty, I remember very little about the service itself, what readings were used, what hymns we sang, who preached or what he or she said.  But I have vivid memories about the short, dark walk across the parking lot in the wee hours of Easter morning.  Somehow, that short walk seemed more like Easter than anything else we did.  The stark darkness and silence held both mystery and hope as we made our way to the empty tomb.  Time seemed pregnant with possibility.  The other travelers across the parking lot were silent as well as if to speak would be an intrusion on a sacred silence. 

          Mary Magdalene is also on a sacred walk in the darkness of early morning, but her walk is not one of anticipation or hope.  Her walk is the walk of the grieving, going to pay her respects to her friend, teacher, and healer.  While we expect the tomb to be empty on Easter morning, Mary Magdalene most certainly does not.  She finds the stone rolled away and the tomb open.  Her first thought is that the body of Jesus has been stolen.  What else would she think?  We can hear the fear and sorrow in her voice as she says to Peter and the other disciple “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”  After looking into the tomb to confirm that the body of Jesus is, indeed, gone, the disciples return to their homes.

          But Mary stays at the tomb.  When she finally gets up the nerve to peer into the tomb, she sees two angels dressed in white.  In her grief, Mary seems unfazed by their presence.  When the angels ask Mary why she is weeping, her grief-stricken reply is “They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him.”  All Mary wants is to know where the body of Jesus can be found.  And then, the risen Christ asks Mary the very same question.  “Woman, why are you weeping?”  Thinking Jesus is the gardener, Mary replies “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.”   The only thing in the world that Mary wants is to recover the dead body of Jesus so she can pay her respects to her friend.  Had Jesus actually been the gardener and told Mary where to find the body, she would still have grieved, but she would have been content to care for the body of her friend.

          We know what comes next, but Mary did not.  At the sound of Jesus’ voice calling her name, Mary knows in an instant that the person before her is not the gardener but Jesus.  She must have reached out to embrace Jesus because Jesus tells her not to hold onto him but to go and tell his brothers that he is ascending to the Father. 

          On Easter morning, we know that the tomb is open, the stone rolled away, and that Jesus has risen from the dead.  We rejoice in the victory of life over death, of love over hate and faith over fear.  And yet, over the past year, how many times have I gone looking for what was, longing for the ways I went about my life before the pandemic, wanting to find what we have lost and hold on tight?  In other words, how many times have I gone looking for the dead body of Jesus?  And how many times have I mistaken the Risen Christ for the cashier at Heinens, or the Instacart delivery person, or the pharmacist with the Covid-19 vaccine, or any of the many other people who have been the face of Jesus in the midst of this difficult year?  Mary Magdalene went looking for the past, a past that meant the world to her and had transformed her life, so she could properly grieve that loss.  Her grief is deep and real.  But Jesus calls her by name and calls her forward, beyond her grief, into new life.  Grief is transformed into anticipation and hope.

          In the midst of these months of very real uncertainty, frustration, and a great variety of griefs, when somedays all we really want is to go back to February 2020 and hold on tight, the risen Christ calls us by name and calls us forward into new life.  Like Mary Magdalene, our grief is real and legitimate.  And like Mary Magdalene, we do not know what the future, the new reality, will be like.  But the Risen Christ reminds us that the tomb was empty.  There is no going backwards.  The empty tomb calls us forward into a new reality, one that God is holding open for us just as the tomb was open on that first Easter morning.  The darkness of Easter morning is filled with hope and anticipation, pregnant with possibility.  Whatever circumstances, challenges, griefs, joys, or opportunities we face, life and love have won and Jesus calls us forward into new life. 

                                                                                      Amen.