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Acts 10.34-43; Ps 118; Col 3.1-4; Mt 28.1-10
Holy Week began badly for my family. Last weekend our 19 year-old cat Tiger began a rapid decline. She stopped eating; her legs got wobbly and she couldn’t jump up on couches and beds. By Monday morning she’d stopped meowing and purring. Monday afternoon she tried to get up and her legs wouldn’t work. After a few tries, she stumbled to her feet and awkwardly—with legs buckling and as much sideways movement as forward—made her way out of the living room to the bedroom.
John looked at me and said, “The time has come.” Tiger came to us as a kitten born in the Projects in Lawrence. She weighed only a couple pounds and could fit in the palm of my hand. Our boys were 3 and 7 when she joined the family. Until last weekend, she’d been old but contented. She slept in sunbeams; ate the gravy off her food; and snuggled and purred a lot. But last weekend, something changed and the time had indeed come to let her go. Monday evening, we held her close as the vet put her down. Tuesday John drove her out to the Berkshires and buried her next to our beagle, Barney, whom she had tormented all their life together. Surely they will be best friends in paradise.
After the Good Friday liturgy John said to me, “You know there’s just a lot of death around this year.” I knew what he meant. Just about a year ago, the best man from our wedding died after a short, fierce battle with cancer. More recently, the priest who married us died young of pancreatic cancer. And in January, John’s mother died taking from us the last in her generation. Here at St. Stephen’s we have friends and family who have died this year and in year’s past whose presence feels very real as we walk the way of the cross with Jesus. And this morning many of us bring with us in prayer those who are dying.
By now I suspect that you are beginning to wonder whether, having spent the night at Mass General with someone near death, I have forgotten altogether that it is Easter. Perhaps you’ve been contemplating throwing a jellybean or shouting out a random alleluia to remind me. But the truth is, I do remember that it is Easter and I give thanks. I give thanks not because I think God will Lazarus-like bring our family members and friends out of the tomb and back to live among us. I give thanks because the truth that Jesus is risen gives me the strength and courage to face death and know that it is not the end of their story or yours or mine. The resurrection gives us reason to hope. Jesus promises new life to all who believe in him.
When Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to the tomb early on Easter morning, despair engulfed them. Judas—one of their friends—had betrayed Jesus to the authorities. Jesus had been arrested, tried in a kangaroo court, and sentenced to death. The disciples had scattered following Jesus’ arrest and now huddled in a locked room-- confused, scared and bereft; Peter had even denied Jesus three times before dawn. They came to the tomb with no thought beyond showing respect for the body of one they loved. Preparations had been rushed on Friday due to the Sabbath and they wanted to treat him right.
When they got to the tomb, an angel whose appearance was “like lightening” and whose clothing was “white as snow” rolled back the stone from the tomb. And, as if that weren’t enough, the angel told them “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised.” And, as if that weren’t enough, when they left the tomb “with fear and great joy” to go tell the other, Jesus greeted them on the road saying, “Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.”
In a moment, God transformed the Marys from sorrowful, struggling women to joyful, hopeful women. In a moment, God took them from their traditional work of preparing bodies for burial and anointed them as the first witnesses to the resurrection. Beginning with the Marys at the tomb on Easter morning, the good news that Jesus has risen from the dead transforms lives. The good news that Jesus has risen from the dead makes all things new.
At age 72 writer Madeline L’Engle was in Los Angeles being driven to a speaking engagement. Out of nowhere a truck ran a red light smashing into her limo. She sustained serious injuries requiring delicate surgical reconstructions of her body and lengthy recovery. As she regained her health and strength, she returned to the things she loved including writing. A year later she produced a series of spiritual reflections on life, death, wholeness and home.
She tells the story of an event in Red Square in Moscow shortly after the Russian Communist Revolution of 1917. She reports, “The people of Moscow were called to a gathering in Red Square. There they were addressed by one of the new leaders, who spent well over half an hour proving to the populace that there is no God. His factual arguments about the nonexistence of God were incontrovertible, and the mob of people standing in Red Square was silent and subdued. Then a priest who was standing with the people asked permission to say three words. Permission was granted, and he stood in front of the packed square, raised his arms, and cried out: CHRIST IS RISEN!” And the entire mob responded joyfully, “He is risen indeed!” (The Rock that is higher, 294)
Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! L’Engle comments, “That is the promise that sustains us. When the truck went through the light on July 28, I was well aware that not being eaten is not part of the promise. When I went under anesthesia I willingly said good-bye to this life of seventy-two years full of love and laughter, grief and joy. But now I am seventy-three and I am still here. ‘Did you have a life-after-death experience?’ I have been asked. No. Not then. I’ve had what seems to me to be the equivalent of those transcendent experiences at other times when I was nowhere near death, as far as I know. The opening out of God’s creation into something wonderful beyond description has come, for instance, in the back seat of a car at night, holding a sleeping grandbaby as we drove across England. It has come while I was walking home from church on a warm July afternoon in the country, picking wildflowers and simply taking time to be, when suddenly that be-ing became something richer and deeper and more marvelous than can even be remembered once it has faded.” (TRTIH, 302-303)
Somehow it seems paltry to throw a sleeping baby or a bunch of wildflowers or an unhurried walk up against the devastation of death, disease, natural disasters, or civil war. And yet, those are the God moments open to each of us every day. We can’t keep those we love from getting sick and dying. We can’t guarantee ourselves success and celebration in all pursuits. Yet, we can keep our eyes open for the ordinary, every day resurrections that characterize our lives.
I can tell you a few of mine from this week. There was Bryan LaFortune dancing up to communion last Sunday, trying for all he was worth to escape Patrick to get to the front first and then to come back for seconds. There were the daffodils huddling down in the expended periods of cold rain and then standing tall and yellow seeming to shout at the cold and rain “Ha, you can’t take me down!” There was Sam calling both Mom and Dad to make sure we were alright in the wake of Tiger’s death. There was Bishop Gayle’s amazing new puppy making an appearance at lunch following the chrism mass. There is Gardy coming home for Easter—and even trying to get home in time for church.
But the best came last night at the Easter Vigil. We introduced a new reading in the Vigil, a reading from the prophet Zephaniah lamenting the devastation that has befallen God’s people and remembering God’s promise of reconciliation and restoration. In our planning meeting, we’d said it would be great to put together a presentation that integrated the words of Zephaniah, visual images from our world and city, and our song proclaiming God’s promise of new life. Rev. Jon Niketh promised to work on it. I knew he would not let us down and that he would produce something. I was utterly unprepared for the grace and beauty of the audio-visual experience he created. As images of Jerusalem and Japan mixed with Lynn, as Juliana Davis’ clear voice rang out and Junior Mullings’ drums rolled, my heart burst with pain and pride. Struggle and suffering are all around us but so too are restoration and resurrection.
In Bishop Tom Shaw’s Easter reflection for the Diocese, he confessed that life had gotten in the way of him observing a holy Lent. He admitted that an over-busy schedule made worse by a few challenging emergencies kept him from the prayer, study and practice he intended. Yet, he reminds himself and all of us that St. John Chrysostom, one of the greatest preachers in the history of the church, says “never mind…. It doesn't matter, he declares in one of his Easter sermons, what kind of Lent you have kept. All of us, from those of us who have kept the most rigorous Lent to those of us who have kept the most lax Lent, are invited to the fullness of the Easter feast. That's what he says.
So this is what I'm going to do: I'm going to indulge myself in the richness of the Easter feast. I'm going to keep a great Easter. You know what that will mean? It means that every day in my prayer I am going to ask the Holy Spirit to show me, in every event in my life, in everything that is happening in my community, the diocese, in the world, the power of Christ's resurrection. I'm going to ask God not to let hopelessness or sadness or despair cloud the new life that Christ's victory over death tells us we can find even in the darkest places. And then I'm going to ask God for the freedom of those earliest disciples, when they encountered the risen Christ, to tell everyone that Christ lives.
Won't you join me in the Easter feast?”
It sounds so simple but just imagine the difference we could make in our church, our city and our world if—despite the death, destruction and devastation-- we all opened our eyes and ears and hearts to the moments of resurrection all around us, and then told everyone about the ways the love of God in Christ is transforming our lives. Just imagine following the Marys-- letting go of fear and living as joyful, hopeful Easter people. Just imagine the resurrection… and then say YES to God.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
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