Easter 2016 Sermon

Alleluia!  Christ is Risen!
The Lord is Risen indeed! 
Alleluia!

Well, we’ve done it.  We’ve journeyed through Holy week, a week of complex, holy emotions.  Hopefully, each of us has been able to embrace those emotions in unique ways.

The journey through Holy Week travels from the jubilant donkey ride into Jerusalem to the Upper Room to Pilate, the Cross, the Tomb and now, to the Resurrection. 

Perhaps you began with waving palms and soon after shouted, “Crucify Him!”  

     Maybe you washed another’s feet, both giving and receiving the depth of Christ’s love.

          On Thursday you may have helped strip the altar, extinguish candles and then left in darkness.

                 Were you able to walk the stations of the Cross, walking with Jesus on this pain-filled path?

                      On Friday, many sat in darkness, praying and singing as Jesus died on the cross.

                           And today, we welcome the new Light, and shout words of joy in the resurrection!  Alleluia!

I wonder, if you experienced any or all of these things, did you also…

Fall asleep in the garden? 
Wrestle like Peter in his denial?
Did you feel the sting of the thorns, the nails and the sword? 
Or Cry out as the last words were spoken? 
Or were you the one to carry the broken body to the tomb? 
Did you go home, feeling empty and hopeless?

All of these things can look different to each of us. 

For our family, we waited while my 29-year-old nephew was in the hospital, wondering why the injuries sustained in a small ATV accident last Saturday were causing so much pain and ultimately internal bleeding by Monday.  Some of us were nearby.  Others farther away, but we each responded to what originally felt like a “little” emergency in a variety of ways. 

His spleen was injured and bleeding.  Doctors took a cautious approach, hoping his spleen would repair itself without surgery.  But his hemoglobin levels dropped over the course of a couple of days.  He was not allowed to eat for a few days so that he would be prepared if surgery was needed.  The doctors and nurses did CT scans, drew blood, and did an angiogram.  It wasn’t until Wednesday that his hemoglobin levels began to rise and he could eat solid food again.  The threat of surgery had passed.

On Thursday morning, his hemoglobin showed real signs of improvement and doctors set a goal for release!  He was able to go home on Friday afternoon.  Something for us to be very thankful for!

But for those couple of days, a couple of scary days, our Holy Week looked a little like this:

We fell asleep, weary.  My nephew drifted in and out of sleep due to medications, his body slowly healing with each brief nap. 

We wrestled with emotions, denying the severity of the injuries, frustrated with the lack of answers, impatient, prayerful, hopeful, guarded.

While he felt the sting of needles, the prodding of hands, the nurses waking him up, and mostly, the pain in his body, we could only watch.  We could not take the experience away from him.  It was his to bear.  But he didn’t have to do it alone.

We cried out, in our own ways, for prayers, for God to heal, hopeful for answers.  We cried because we couldn’t fix him.  We cried because we were afraid for him, for us.

We had to trust that those who were caring for him were doing what was needed to make his hurting body whole.

And my brother waited with him and then he would leave him in the hospital, weary, worried, empty and afraid for his son.

This was our Holy Week.  We were distracted from the ritual. 

And yet...it could be…that through our distraction…we more fully experienced Holy Week.

Today we rejoice in the power of healing.  God created our bodies to do miraculous things.  A spleen can repair a tear, hemoglobin can regenerate.  Bodies can be made whole again.

Today, also, we rejoice in the miracle of Jesus, and we enter into the Easter season in our own ways, just as we entered Holy Week. 

When you came here today…

Did you…Return to the tomb to anoint your friend, Jesus?  

Did you…Smell the oils, spices and herbs you carried in your arms? 

When you found the stone rolled away, did you run back to your home, looking for help?

Or did you…Race with your friend to the garden?

Look into the tomb, but not enter it, and see only the linens of the dead neatly lying there?

Will you go back home, not understanding what you saw?

Or did you…Run faster than your friend to the garden?

Enter the tomb, seeing and believing?

But then, will you also return home, not comprehending all that you saw?

Or are you like Mary?
Dazzled by the angels?
Weeping inconsolably, blinded by your tears, wondering why the tomb was empty?

Did you…Hear your name spoken by the One who calls His Flock by name?
Were you comforted at the sound of your name?
Can you acknowledge that you, too, are a student, a disciple, an apostle, sent forth? 

Are you ready to know Jesus in this new way?

Today is a day of rejoicing.  The tomb is empty because Jesus was resurrected from the dead.

 

What does that mean?  We look back and even now, after years of hearing the story, we realize there is no logical way to explain it.  There is no single way to experience it.  Each year, we enter into Holy Week a little bit older, with a little more life, with a little more loss.  Who we see ourselves as may have changed.  How we understand our faith may have changed.  So when we hear the story, we may respond differently than the year before.  And there is nothing wrong with that!  Who we are and how we understand this pivotal moment in the Christian faith is complex.  It is the story that brings all of the teachings of Jesus to this miracle of resurrection.

At his last meal with his followers, Jesus commanded us to love God and to love one another as He loves.  This death on the cross and resurrection is an interesting way to express his love for us.  It is complex, it is strange.  It is the foundation of the Christian faith.  But it is not easy to understand.  That’s why the Gospels give us a variety of examples how to live into this story. 

Some years any of us could be like Peter—running to the tomb to see if what Mary said was true, but then, only peeking in, not actually stepping inside…and then choosing to walk home pondering what it all means.

Other years we could be like the other disciple—racing Peter to the tomb, entering and somehow believing that Jesus did what he said he would do, but still not quite understanding how or why.

Or, we could find ourselves more like Mary—weeping and mourning and becoming inconsolable, asking others to come and see, lingering at the tomb with her emotions and to then be the first to see Jesus in his new form.  To hear her name and understand her role as his student and to go forth, telling the story.

It’s easy to struggle with all of this. 

That is why this a miracle.  It is not something easily explained.  It is something that requires faith in what cannot be seen.  It is something that means different things to different people at different times.  Peter, Mary and the other disciple reacted and understood it in different ways. 

It is a miracle.

We walk this journey with Christ, not fully understanding the depth of this gift, but knowing that because of His sacrifice, His love for us, we are ever wrapped in the arms of forgiveness, of grace and of eternal life.

And, even if it is indescribable, even if it is incomprehensible, be like Mary...

Go…tell…

Christ is Risen!

Amen.