Easter Sermon 2019


          Alleluia!  Christ is Risen!
Like many of you, I watched as the flaming spire of Notre Dame, crashed into the burning interior of the famous spiritual and cultural center of Paris.  With deep concern that irreplaceable artifacts, artwork, and spiritual paraphernalia would be forever lost to this massive blaze, many of us went to bed, not knowing what the morning would bring.
          When the pictures of the burned-out sanctuary started popping up, we saw the gold cross standing amongst the burned rubble.  News of the intact organ and artwork successfully removed brought comfort to many.  Promises to rebuild, perhaps with newer technologies and craftsmanship, promises of over a billion euros, promises that every effort would be made to creatively reconstruct this iconic place of worship proffered just what the world needed this week:  Hope.
          Hope in this physical resurrection of a building.  Not just a building, but a place where the world has gathered to be in communion with God and with one another for over 800 years.
          While financial promises were being made to rebuild this iconic place, the three burned out churches where predominantly black parishioners worshiped in Louisiana also began to receive financial promises, now nearly two million dollars, to help rebuild their lesser known, but just as important, churches where communities gather to be in communion with God and with one another.
          We often cling to the places where we have experienced the wonder of community blended with abundant love and deep faith.  These places of worship—whether within walls or not—provide hope and security and love in ways that other places in the world we live in do not.
          Maybe that’s why we invest so much of ourselves in these places.  They mark the moments of our faith journeys with a tangible address to which we can return and return.
          We believe that it is here where we find God, where we experience the Holy, where we can live out the promises we make to the Holy Trinity and to one another in our Baptismal Covenant.
          Yet, as the men in the dazzling white robes tell the women, those women who go to the tomb where they know Jesus was laid, where they plan to anoint his cold body with herbs and spices and oils, -- in that place, -- they are told: “He is not here.”
I’m sure they audibly gasped, brought their hands to their mouths and were surprised to find more tears in their red and swollen eyes. In those eyes that had been crying for hours, even in their sleep, in those eyes where they thought no more tears could possibly be.  I suspect they were about to begin keening—that grief-cry-wailing—when the men in those glistening, shining, white robes interrupted them. 
          “Wait!  Let us finish!  We have told you he is not here, and that is the truth.  But you need to hear the rest of the story!  He has risen.”

          We come to the familiar places where we have experienced the Holy, expecting to find Jesus, hoping for a glimpse of God.  And these places in our lives can often provide us with those warm feelings of belonging, of being challenged, of hoping.  And yes, God is with us.
          At the same time, “He is not here, but has risen.”
          We come to our buildings to be fed with the love and knowledge of God, to be taught how to live as Jesus lived and to know the amazing, life-giving power of the Holy Spirit.  We come to our buildings to praise Jesus and to pray to God and to feel strengthened by the Holy Spirit.  We shout Hosannas and Alleluias in these households of God.
          But he is not here.
          Like the tomb, our churches cannot contain Christ.  Our buildings hold us accountable to our faith and our hope, and they are places in which we develop and grow to be Jesus Followers, but if we leave it all in our churches, in the tomb, if we weep and grieve over lost buildings, we have forgotten that Jesus is alive!
          Jesus is alive! 
          Jesus is alive in you—and you—and you—and you—and in our baby who will be baptized in a few minutes—and me.  And we do not stay in the tomb, or in the church.  No.  We go out into the world to proclaim that Jesus is alive, the God is present in each and every person we meet.
          Throughout his human journey on this earth, Jesus reminded us of the beloved-ness of every human being by teaching us how to respect the dignity of every human being, and to not only respect each, but also to guard and pursue justice for each wonderful child of God.
Isn’t that beautiful? 
Look around you and see the beloved people around you.  
Look beyond the brokenness, the wounds, the scars and see. 
Acknowledge the brokenness, the wounds, the scars, and know one another.  
See and know who the Creator loves, and then, love like Jesus loves.
          You see, God doesn’t inhabit the buildings, Jesus didn’t stay in the tomb and the Holy Spirit cannot be contained.  “He is not here but has risen!”  Risen in each of us and bursts forth from our hearts.
          Alleluia!  Christ is Risen!