Linens Instead of Angels

Easter Sunday, Yr. B; April 8, 2012

Isaiah 25:6-9; Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18

Sermon preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church

            When I was in 7^th grade, I started delivering the morning paper.  The papers were delivered to my house in a bundle in the middle of the night.  I would wake early and go out to the front porch to retrieve the bundle while it was still dark outside.  I flicked on the porch light, grabbed the bundle and headed back inside to pack my paper bag.  I lived a good half mile from my route.  So after filling my bag, I’d head off in the dark at a fast clip.  I wasn’t very comfortable with darkness.  I used to imagine that someone was following me down the long hill to my first delivery.  I’d walk quickly along the dimly lit streets folding papers as I went, tossing them up onto porches or into doorways … pausing just long enough to be sure I’d hit my target before quickly turning back to the road to the next house on my route. 

            At one point in my route, I had to walk around a house and down a short wooded path into an apartment complex.  It was darker than the rest of the walk because of the trees.  I’d always walk through there with a folded paper in my hands … partly to swat down any cobwebs that had grown up overnight, and partly just to have something I could swing in case something jumped out at me on that lonely path.

            So when I hear about Mary walking down to the tomb where Jesus had been laid … by herself … in the dark … in the wee hours of the morning … I’m not at all surprised that she gets a little spooked when she finds the stone rolled aside.  I’m not at all surprised that she takes off running to round up a few more people.  The two disciples go running back to the tomb.  The one who reaches the tomb first doesn’t go in.  He waits for Peter.  Both see that the tomb is empty, except for the linens.  Peter enters followed by the other disciple.  The tomb is indeed empty, but they don’t understand why.  After confirming Mary’s announcement, the two disciples return home. 

            That’s that, they might be thinking.  Nothing here but some dirty linens and stone.  Let’s go home … perhaps fearful … probably confused … maybe angry.  But Mary stays … weeping.  She’s weeping not because the tomb is empty, but because she doesn’t know where to find Jesus.  She wants to anoint him for burial.  She wants to care for his broken body, treat it with the respect and dignity it deserves.  She bends to look into the tomb again.  But now, it’s no longer empty.  Now there are two angels there. 

Why did Mary see angels when the disciples saw linens?  Maybe it’s because the disciples only ran to the tomb to confirm a story.  They ran to be sure Jesus wasn’t there, otherwise they might not have gone at all. The disciples weren’t seeking Jesus, they were confirming his absence! They knew he was dead.  What’s to see?  Mary knew he was dead too, but Mary went to the tomb hoping to find Jesus.  She was seeking him even in the midst of fear and confusion and despair.  She stayed at the tomb when the disciples went back home to the safety of the upper room.  She stayed out … the disciples went back.  They went back inside.

There’s a lesson for us in this.  Many church leaders have realized over the last twenty years that the church is changing.  Or perhaps more accurately, that the world has been changing while the church has been operating under the same assumptions.  In the fifties and sixties, the church was part of the dominant culture.  We filled our pews with the children and grandchildren of long time members.  Stores were closed on Sundays and no one worked.  Sunday was the national and dominant cultural Sabbath.  We visited friends, spent time with families.  We went to church.  That was the norm.

It’s taken us quite a while to realize that that world is long gone.  Nonetheless, for quite some time the church continued as usual, and our numbers slowly dwindled.  Attendance and membership in every major denomination has dropped off dramatically in the last twenty years.  But church leaders thought that increasing their visibility and finding their market niche would bring the numbers back up.  While mega churches grew for a while, they also began to find that people weren't staying.  Outside our doors the world has changed, while inside we have continued on in much the same way.  How many of you have children that were raised in the church, but now as young adults attend no church of their own?  No church of any kind. 

We have at least one missing generation in the church.  They outgrew us.  They are spiritual people, but they could not find any connection to God in what went on inside our buildings.  We were not able to translate our salvation story into words that were relevant to them … they wandered in the dark dismissing much of what we valued, much of what made us comfortable in church.

It’s not that we didn’t try.  But in the fifties and sixties, we didn’t have to try.  People came.  The church was there for worship and formation and pastoral care.  But as we moved into a post modern world in the eighties and nineties and beyond … things changed, people changed, our thinking changed and people started finding their spirits nourished more outside church then in.

Church leaders were confused and disoriented, because we thought we knew what church was … but what had worked for us in the past didn’t seem to be working now.  Was God dead?  Was the church a dying institution?  Only questions and no practical solutions to help us move forward.

I’ve only been at St. Stephen’s for a few years, but it seems clear to me that “church” is not what it used to be.  At least, church at St. Stephen’s is not what it used to be for me.  Much of my time as priest here is spent developing relationships for collaboration.  I meet with the Episcopal city clergy as we struggle to see how we might work together more effectively for mission.  I meet and talk with groups who want to use our building for mission.  Just recently, I agreed to let Gilda’s Club, a cancer support group, meet in our building once a month.  They want to increase their visibility and be more accessible to those on the west side of the city.  We coordinate the CROPWalk with the intention of growing a network of participating churches and organizations to build a community of caring.  David went to a meeting at Foodlink last week, to hear about a new project that would help to provide fresh produce to urban neighborhoods, especially neighborhoods with high poverty rates.  We’re partnering with Two Saints to try to start a Prison Ministry Family Information and Resource Center to serve families of incarcerated individuals in our neighborhood.  

Why am I getting phone calls about stuff like this?  I think it’s because we are getting a reputation for helping.  We are getting a reputation for saying “yes”.   People in the neighborhood are hearing that we care about them, that we consider ourselves part of the community here.  We’re in the early stages of “staying out”.  We’re allowing things to happen at St. Stephen’s that don’t involve just members.  We’re inviting others to be involved in mission, not just worship … sometimes not even worship!  I think we’re taking the first baby steps toward becoming a “missional church”.   

Evening prayer on the lawn of the community garden is stepping out a little further.  Sitting on our lawn some evenings this summer would be another step.  Attending Chili Avenue business association meetings would be another step.  Forming a block group on Thorndale Terrace would be another step.  There are all kinds of ways, to step out … all kinds of ways we might choose to risk stepping outside our walls.  It just takes some imagination.

We’re living in a ripe time for the church, an exciting time when imagination and creativity are more important then ever.  We are being called into transformation, into the light of resurrection, into new life.  We don’t know exactly what this “new” church should look like.  We’re kind of making it up as we go along … but I like that way of being.  It’s challenging and exciting.  

I expect that many churches that take the risk to step out will remain small but vibrant places ... at least for a while.  They’ll have a hard time quantifying exactly what they’re doing because the old way just doesn’t make sense anymore.  Average Sunday Attendance doesn’t really capture the impact our church is making in the neighborhood.  But the number of hours our building is used helping to build strong healthy communities might.  The number of communicants in good standing doesn’t say a lot about what we do either, but maybe counting the number of ways we are interacting in the neighborhood might.   Maybe counting the volunteer hours that our members give to any organization or cause, including the church, would say something worthwhile about us too! 

            Mary knew that she needed to find Jesus, and she knew that she wasn’t going to find him holed up in that upper room with the others.  We won’t either.  Jesus only showed up there because they were in there and they weren't coming out!!  On this resurrection morning, as we renew our baptismal covenant together, think about how we might venture out to find Jesus in the people who live right next door, because Jesus is there.  Think about what it might mean if St. Stephen’s were the Welcome Wagon of Thorndale Terrace, not because we needed people in our church … but because we need to get out of our church to find Jesus living outside it.  Because we know that Jesus is there waiting for us, if we are only willing to look for him.  My friends, we are a resurrection people … called and sent into the world … continuing in the life of our risen Lord.  Christ is risen this day, and we rise with him!

Amen.