Easter
Sunday; Yr. C, March 31, 2013
Isaiah 65:17-25:12;
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; Luke 24:1-12
Sermon
preached at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
Alleluia,
Christ is Risen! The Lord is risen
indeed! Today is the day we celebrate
Christ’s continuing presence in our lives, and not only our lives, but in the
life of the world. Today we hear the
story of Christ’s escape from the tomb, and the absolute incredulity of his
followers to that fact. In John’s
version, no one believes the women. Only
Peter heads off to the tomb to check things out for himself. Everyone else is quite sure that such a thing
as resurrection … literally coming back from the dead … is impossible. It doesn’t make any more sense to us either,
but at least we have the witness of Peter to go on. Peter ran to the tomb, stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by themselves. Jesus was indeed gone, but had he truly
risen? Was he really alive again?
Yes. That is at the core of our Christian
proclamation. Jesus was killed. He was buried. He rose from the dead. That is our story. Death is swallowed up in victory! It’s proclaimed right there on the front of
our leaflet today. Death is overcome and
no longer has power over us. Yes, but …
even to the apostles these words seemed
to them an idle tale. It’s a hard tale to swallow.
But not for
those who believe! We have two thousand
years of witnesses to Christ’s presence in the world. We have witnesses in our own day.
God is love, and Jesus
was love incarnate. Jesus was God’s love
in the flesh living out its fullness on earth.
Every time we feel or recognize or experience that unconditional love of
God, Christ is at the center of it.
Every time love is offered when it’s least expected or deserved, I think
of God. If God is love, then wherever
love is … God is. Wherever God is … love
is too.
Yesterday when I got home
from church, there was a message on my answering machine. A man from the neighborhood called. He was weeping. His nephew had died on Thursday. He fell riding a skateboard and hit his
head. He died four hours later at
Strong. One minute he was rolling down
the street doing what he loved, and seconds later he was being rushed to the
hospital. He was a good kid … a high
school graduate, sweet, kind, didn’t get into trouble, a whole life ahead of
him. Gone. Where’s the justice in that? There’s no justice in that. There just isn’t. Justice is about relationship. Accidents like that are just … freaky
accidents. It’s a tragedy. We cannot control life.
We can control how we
treat one another, and that has a lot to do with justice. God can transform a tragedy with love. His
sister’s cupboards were bare and he didn’t have any money to help fill
them. He loved his nephew. He loves his sister. Love is God’s realm. Love compelled this man to call for
help. He called everyone he knew,
everyone he could think of that might be able to offer food, or support, or
something to ease her suffering. Love
did that. God is love.
I talked to three
different people on Saturday who told me they found themselves weeping at the
Tenebrae service on Friday evening. The
music was beautiful, of course, but I think it also had to do with the love
they found themselves drawn into in that service … memories of beloved children
lost, the absence of dear parents and friends, pain endured for or with a loved
one … connected with the suffering and death of Jesus. It was love that touched them, and love that held
them as they reconnected with those memories and emotions. God is love.
When I was living in Lake
Placid, before being ordained, I was often an acolyte in the Sunday
service. There were times when I would
be standing at the altar serving, and find tears tripping down my cheeks. Totally unexpected. In those moments, something in me was being
called out. Feelings of unworthiness,
fear, doubt, hopes I dared not speak. I
was laid bare before the miracle of Christ’s continuing presence in bread and
wine and community … and things I never knew about myself came to light. I was thankful for the love that held it all.
Love accepts us, and encourages us to
grow. God is that love.
As we gather around the
chancel step for communion each Sunday, as I look into your eyes and place a
piece of bread in your hands, I see love.
It’s not much different when I work at the Foodlink Mobile Pantry. The risen Christ was there on Wednesday
too. In each cold hand that signed in,
in each smile, and every “yes ma’am”, and certainly in the concerns that were
shared. Christ looks out of your eyes. Christ looked out of theirs too.
At our vestry
meetings, we start with a time of reflection and prayer. Sometimes I ask the vestry where they have
experienced God in their lives since our last meeting. Their answers vary but so often involve some
relationship with another. In my
children, some say. In my parents, say
others … in a chance meeting. Sometimes
it’s because of prayers answered, or a worrisome situation resolved … but so
often it involves those they love. God
is love.
Though I experience
Christ’s ongoing presence in people, it’s not the only place where resurrection
continues to break into my world. When a
chickadee lands on my hand on the Birdsong Trail in Mendon Ponds Park. When I sit in a kayak in the middle of
Philips Lake in Maine. When I walked in
the woods behind my house in Lake Clear.
When I look at the new buds on the daffodils in our front garden here at
St. Stephen’s. When I watch the darkness
of the morning turn to Maxfield Parrish blue in the dawn light each morning as
I walk my dog. When I see new shoots
coming up in my vegetable bed. When I
see the backside of the Adirondack Great Range as we drive down Squirrel Hill
into Keene. When I see the sun rising
over the trees in my side yard. When I
feel the warmth of spring pushing winter away for another year. When I smell the sweetness of the Easter
lilies in church. My heart is filled
with the awe and fullness of love. God is love.
Jesus gave us
the gift of his life as an example of the kind of life that can be lived when
we put our full trust in God. Jesus
brought us into right relationship with God, a relationship that we are
constantly growing into. There is
nothing that can now separate us from God; nothing that we can do that cannot
be forgiven by God. There is nothing
that we are that is repulsive to
God. We were created in love and it was
good. It is good. We will always be God’s beloved. We are
free.
That’s what the
passage from Isaiah is all about. It’s
about liberation for life. The prophet
is talking all about what life will be like when the Israelites are free. There will be a new heaven and a new earth,
and our transgressions will be forgotten.
No more will they build houses for others to inhabit, or plant vineyards
that will make money for someone else.
They will be free. Life will no longer be harsh and short, but the
people will know comfort and their lives will be long. This is the kind of life a free people can
live because their lives will no longer be dictated by others. They will be freed for God. They will be freed for love.
We need that freedom in community to build just
societies. Christ is alive in all those
who fight for justice, because justice is love at work in community … God
working through those who fought against slavery … those who struggled for a
women’s right to vote … those who demonstrated for civil rights … those who
still push for equal marriage rights and economic reform. Justice is our society’s way of expressing
love for one another. Democracy was not
ordained by God, but it is our most recent best effort at becoming a “Godly”
nation … a nation that expresses love for its people by giving them a voice. Love acts.
Let’s celebrate
the liberation of resurrection each and every day of our lives. Let’s look for its signs in the ordinary, in
relationships, in our city and family, in nature and in simple acts of love …
and in justice for all. See it in smiles
and thank you’s and generosity and kindness and compassion and mercy, because
that is where love is acting. That is
where God acting. That is where we meet
the risen Christ.
Amen.
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