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.
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!