Easter sermon 2013

Easter: John 20:1-17, Isaiah 65:17-25

Christ is Risen!

 (Christ is risen indeed)

It is good to gather in worship with all of you on this Easter Sunday! I hope that this day finds you blessed, and filled with the hope of new life. May the meal that we eat together today bring to mind Jesus’ meal in the upper room with the disciples, may the eggs that you search for remind you of Mary’s discovery of the empty tomb, may that ridiculous Easter bunny herself bring to mind life and laughter and springtime, and the hope flowing in the world that is the core of the Easter story, and may you know light in the midst of darkness.

We’ve been talking this Lenten season about honor and shame-you may remember reflecting on how our sense of honor and our fear of shame can sometimes get in the way-get in the way of welcoming people back into community like the Prodigal son and his older brother, get in the way of God’s calling, as we cry out “get away from me Lord,” with Peter and Isaiah, get in the way of strange and beautiful departures from the ordinary way of doing things, stopping us from helping Mary wash Jesus’ feet, distracting us from things that might open up new spaces for God to work in the world.

The Easter story is in many ways a culmination of that trajectory, that journey towards a complete revisioning of honor and shame. The story of a crucified criminal, executed in the most humiliating way possible, raised on the 3^rd day to become savior of the world invites us to claim again that for God, honor and shame are a completely different animal than they are for us.

Its an idea flowing throughout this story from John. So lets look a little more closely.

John’s texts are always filled with all sorts of wonderful things–you have Mary coming early in the morning on the first day of the week-alone-in grief and unsupported by her community. She is willing to risk herself to do honor to Jesus. You have Peter and John racing each other to the empty tomb, so eager, so foolish, wondering what has happened to Jesus. This strange little back and forth-The beloved disciple gets there first, but Peter enters first, the Beloved disciple believes, but both of them still do not understand.  Then there is this odd spectacle of these two most faithful disciples, finished inspecting the empty tomb, returning home, uncertain what to do in the face of this new data, so just going back to their lives.

Actually, just a moment here-how often do we act like that-hearing a story about some wonderful ministry, envisioning a new way of impacting our community, touched by a powerful worship service, and not quite knowing what to do next, so we just turn around and figure it will work itself out in the end?

But most of all this is a story about Mary Magdeline, and her encounter with the risen Lord. It is right that this is a moment that Mary got to experience. Mary was one of the most faithful disciples-the faithful listener rebuked by her sister (though that is in the book of Luke) The one who confronted Jesus after Lazarus’ death, saying “If you had been here, my brother would not have died”, after which Jesus wept. Two weeks ago, surrounded by the stunning music of the Bethel College choir, we reflecting on the deep love Mary expressed when she washed Jesus’ feet.  

So we might say that this is the story of the faithful friend and the newly risen Christ. But it’s more complex than that. In this back and forth you might pick up just the slightest hint of teasing -“woman, why are you weeping?” Jesus, disguised as the gardener-the awkward question “Sir, where have you taken him?” Just like the disciples before her, Mary doesn’t quite know what to do or say, and she fumbles.

But after the awkwardness of the early morning visit, the bumbling disciples, the stilted conversation, there is the Easter moment, the recognition of Christ before her, her name, spoken by the lips of God. Mary. Is that not the Easter moment for us all? Samuel. Jacob. Maya. Wysteria. James. Our names have been called by God on Easter Morning, and we can recognize the presence of God in everyone we meet, and all those around us.

And it is in that context, the one honored and known by God, that Jesus sends Mary out to become the first preacher of the Gospel, the first one to tell the good news that “I have seen the Lord” to let the brothers and sisters of Christ who gather as his body know that Easter has come and the world is being made new.

And that’s the invitation I want to offer to each of us as we reflect on Easter this morning, and Easter in our lives-to tell the Easter stories of our lives, to proclaim the Easter moments that resonate with that first Easter day so long ago.

It is really easy for me to get caught up in Good Friday side of Holy Week. The not-yet part of the already/not yet, the dark side of our cosmos filled with grey.  I am regularly reminded of the fallen nature of creation, I hear all the mean things that people do to one another, the violence in our city and our country, the challenges of poverty, war, and climate change that shake my faith in humanity, and shame me in my limited action. I see, even in the church, even in this church, relationships that should be stronger, love that could be deeper, ways that we could live out more fully our calling in the image of God, and I’m sure your list is as long or longer than mine.

Isaiah paints for us a picture of a peaceable kingdom, one where infants do not die, where no one steals from your labor, and where all our efforts bear fruit, where the wolf and the lamb lie down together and the lion eats straw like the ox, and sometimes I want to say “God, that’s never going to happen. That’s not a viable vision of the universe, lion’s digestive tracts don’t even work like that, and this world we live in loves to exploit and take advantage of the people within in it. Even the most Christian people, even I am so complicit in the brokenness of this creation.” And of course it’s true. There aren’t easy answers, there is a cross, but beyond that cross is an empty tomb.

And so we have the opportunity to tell about all of the Easter moments that weave in and out of our lives-all the times we are reminded that we are beloved children of God, brothers and sisters of Christ, that we do not have to be ashamed before God or before humanity, because we are worthy to love and live and to have our place in the body of Christ, all the times we see life triumph over death, see Christ alive and at work in the world.

Whenever we see the expectations of honor and shame, of sin and guilt upset, and new possibilities break in, there is the Easter moment, and there is the presence of Christ.

Whether that is two neighbors fighting with one another shaking hands at the end of a mediation or seeing the potluck spread and thinking about all the hours it took together for us to feed ourselves and all those who might come to the door, or feeling the warm embrace of family who are visiting today,or seeing Pope Francis, for the first time in history, washing the feet of female inmates in a prison in Italy, or all the other ways large and small we can still see that empty tomb, and still hear the voice of God calling.  It is in remembering the Easter story, and noticing the Easter moments in the world around me that I find strength for the journey ahead.   

So this is my challenge for all of you-we’ve been telling faith stories through Lent-we’ve heard some amazing stories of joy and pain and hope. I really appreciate all those willing to open their hearts to the community, and to share how you have connected with God and with the church. Today, I invite you all to tell your stories-to think about the Easter moments in your life, to tell them over coffee, over brunch, and in the weeks to come, to speak boldly, and proclaim the good news.

In the name of Christ, Amen.