A sermon for Easter Sunday given at the United Church of Acworth, NH on March 31, 2013.
Easter
begins in confusion.
Easter
begins in fear.
Easter
begins in doubt.
The
women wake up early for the first Sunrise service,
lug
bags of spices and perfumes
set
out early on a Monday morning
Of
course it wasn't Monday, it was Sunday – their first day of the
week.
But
I think it might help us experience it a little better to think of it
as Monday.
set
out early on a Monday morning
after
a seriously rough weekend.
They
make their way to the tomb.
We
can understand some of the bewilderment they must have felt.
We
can understand some of the confusion that lingered from the previous
days.
Add
to that – early morning, pre-coffee muddled thinking
and
it was the first day of a new week of work and responsibility.
Easter
begins in exhaustion.
of
monotony, that nothing changes for the better
that
in the end, those with power and money do what they want
and
if one charismatic individual challenges that.
...Well...
that individual is dispensable.
Easter
begins with despair.
Easter
quickly turns to shock.
Finding
an open tomb, they let themselves inside.
And
there's nothing there.
As
if the events of the weekend weren't enough,
now
someone had taken the body.
I'm
sure shock quickly turned to fear as they imagined what people might
want with their beloved friend's body.
But
shock that turned to fear quickly turned back to shock
when
they realized
that
there were alien beings in their midst.
“two men in dazzling
white clothes” the text says
And
then the question,
“ ‘Why
do you look for the living among the dead?
He
is not here, he has risen.”
the
shock that turned to fear that turned to shock that turned to fear
now
turned to utter bewilderment.
Well
of course they were looking for Jesus among the dead.
Hadn't
you seen the horrific events of Friday?
Hadn't
you wept and trembled as he hung there
a
scapegoat for the the status quo?
“But
don't you remember?” the other man chimes in reminding them of
Jesus' own predictions.
The
women remember. And rush to tell the others.
“Idle
talk” a loud disciple responds.
“You
all need to get some sleep,” another contributes.
Easter
begins in cynicism.
Some
of us are coming to this Easter with heavy hearts as we grieve
the
loss of our sister Frances.
How
do we rejoice in Easter life with her passing so freshly impressed on
our hearts?
To
be honest, I feel a little bit of dissonance today between my heart's
sadness
and
the joyous strains of the music and liturgy.
But
when I turned to the story of the first Easter
I
didn't find loud cymbals and pious platitudes
what
I found instead
were
companions in grief and confusion.
And
I walked with them to the tomb, spices and perfumes in hand,
(you've
got to keep moving, give yourself something to do, right?)
And
then I found with them the empty tomb.
And
a crack, a small pinhole of light came through.
And
then I heard a voice say,
“Why
do you look for the living among the dead?”
and
it was then that I felt the stone being rolled away
in
my very soul.
And
the light that began the size of a pinhole
flooded
in and illumined my heart.
“He
is not here, but has risen.”
In
our gospel reading we see two different responses to
the
women's story.
We
heard already about those disciples who dismissed the women as
delusional.
And
then there's Peter.
I
can imagine him staring off blankly into the distance as the women
swing open the door and their story is met with doubt from the other
disciples
But
for Peter there was something in the women's voices.
Something
authentic, something true.
They
weren't delirious.
And
into his heart, a slow stream of hope began to trickle
his
heart began beating a little faster as he remembered
how
Jesus had spoken about the Messiah
that
“he will be handed over to the Gentiles;
and
he will be mocked and insulted and spat upon.
After
they have flogged him, they will kill him,
and
on the third day he will rise again.”
And
in Peter, in the midst of the dryness of spirit,
something
blossomed,
a
curiosity took hold.
And
that Easter morning that had begun for him
in
guilt, in fear, in grief.
Started
to shift. Started to change.
Could
it be?
And
with his heart racing, Peter
“got
up
and
ran to the tomb;”
the
friends stared at the door that Peter had flung open,
shocked
at his impetuous flight
But
Peter, arriving at the tomb, “stooping and looking in,
saw
the linen cloths
by
themselves;”
and
so he went home, amazed at what had happened.”
I
don't know how you're coming into this Easter.
Perhaps
you are feeling great,
excited
about family and friends
chocolate
eggs and jelly beans.
Thanking
God for the blessings of life and the relationships in your life.
Or,
perhaps, your heart is heavy at this time.
weighed
down in some way
Perhaps
like some of the first disciples,
you
hear the Easter acclamation as “idle talk.”
Maybe
you've been burned by life circumstances,
hurt
by religious talk and religious institutions.
I've
been there too.
But
know this:
Easter
doesn't ask you to deny how you feel or where you are in your
journey,
as
if we could just put on a smiling happy face and forget the loss, the
anger we feel.
It's
exactly the opposite.
Easter
for the first disciples began with grief and fear.
From
the first Easter to the present,
God
calls us, “Come as you are.”
It's
when that pinhole of light enters the tomb.
When
that happens,
will
we push it away?
or
will we allow God's living and powerful love to
soften
our hearts, to renew our souls?
It's
not in faking it
or
denying our negative feelings that God changes us,
it's
precisely in the tomb of our grief
that
God restores and resurrects us to new life
and
new vision.
It's
in the acknowledgment of these feelings
honestly
that the possibility of change takes root.
The
message of the good news of Jesus Christ
is
that we come as we are in all of our brokenness
and
God will receive us.
This
is the God who is revealed in Jesus Christ.
The
God of steadfast love
a
love that endures even when we give up.
The
God of relentless life and redeeming grace
whose
love is stronger than death.
The
God who calls us to come as we are,
and
receive God's healing renewal.
Easter
begins in confusion
Easter
begins in doubt
Easter
begins in fear.
But
it doesn't end there.
Encountering
the living God in the empty tomb,
Encountering
the love of God which does not retreat
the
disciples are changed.
Easter
becomes hope.
and
young men stumble and fall;
but
those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,
They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary,
they
will walk and not be faint.”
Amen.
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