Easter + 4.17.22

 

1000. Campbell-Langdell

      All Santos, Oxnard

      (Isaiah 65:17–25; Psalm118:1–2, 14–24; 1 Corinthians15:19- 26; St. Luke 24:1–12)

It cannot have happened. But it did.

In the Easter gospel from Luke, it is all quite mysterious. Jesus' body was not there. You can imagine them thinking, who has taken him? What has happened. And this pair of angels explains what has happened. But it doesn't make any sense. It defies logic. What, really, back from the dead? I mean we saw this with Jesus healing people, but he was not only dead, he was tortured in the most horrible way. How does someone come back from that? They don't. This can't be. But it is.

You can imagine the shock the women must have felt, hearing these words. Because at first it would have just felt like shock. Not joyful yet. But perhaps a tentative hope might have been curling its tendrils around their hearts, as they spoke to these dazzling strangers. About strange things.

No wonder the others didn't believe them. I would feel offended on the womens' behalf if it just didn't make so much sense. Why would they believe Jesus had been raised from the dead?
It defies the laws of physics. It is uninimaginable. And yet, it is.

And yet, it is the truth. And yet today we can be forgiven for being a bit like the hesitant women, and then the disciples, in feeling both the joy and holding the questions around what comes next. They didn't know. We must remember that in Luke's Resurrection account, they have not yet seen Jesus. How to know what on earth is going on? But those tender tendrils of hope are still there. They are still growing strong around hearts until the moment when they will be able to see him and say “He is Risen!” And to share that good news with others.

Today, we are in a tentative time. On Tuesday, we had our first renewal of ordination vows service since 2019. A good number of the clergy in the diocese gathered at the cathedral in Los Angeles. Since everyone present was vaccinated, many were unmasked. I left my mask off for a bit, but then the incense started up and I put it back on in part not to be overwhelmed by smoke! But the mask was also my security object in a way. While I had the mask off, I thought, can I go without this? Is it safe?And it felt so good. Like a bit of Easter Joy again, breathing free in the company of others.

Afterwards, I discussed with a couple of clergy how strange this time seems. So wonderful that we can gather and do the worship we love again, in all its fullness, even sharing the chalice! And also there is an awareness of another potential wave. We are not out of the woods yet.

One author I read this week described it this way. In certain parts of the country, there aren't just four seasons, there are five. This is news to us in California, where we mostly have one season punctuated by fire and rain, and sometimes earthquakes. But I digress. The writer shared that there is a muddy season between Winter and Spring that has swings in temperature, lots of rain and other uncertainties. They pointed out that the world is also in a muddy season. We are witnessing so much suffering in Ukraine and just this week yet another black man was shot during a routine police traffic stop. The author encouraged us to exercise our muscle of hope even in the midst of all this suffering. Hope is undergirded by our faith, and it is notable that in addition to our Christian celebration of Easter, Jews are celebrating Passover this weekend while Muslims mark the holy month of Ramadan. The three Abrahamic faiths are celebrating very holy celebrations.

As D. Scott Stoner puts it, “None of these religions minimize the reality of suffering. Each of these faiths acknowledges the presence of profound suffering, and yet it is in the midst of it that they each proclaim hope. So, for example, we read the words of the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., 'We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.' Mud season is real. Suffering happens in the world and our lives, as we are reminded all too often. Hope, though, doesn't just happen; instead, it needs to be developed, practiced, and sustained, even when it is hard.”¹

There are many hard things in the world right now, this Easter. And yet. There is hope. There is a hopefulness in more being vaccinated and in others not getting quite so sick. The tender tendrils of hope are growing around our hearts and lives, too. An Easter promise remains that death has been conquered and it is our birthright to be free from fear.

So today, as we proclaim that He is Risen! And as we celebrate this day that the Lord has made, as we remember that the last enemy to be destroyed is death, let us remember that Easter is a season. And just as the disciples slowly, slowly let that tentative hope turn into joy, may we too grow in hope and joy as this season continues, trusting that things really are getting better.

I am about to create new heavens
and a new earth;

the former things shall not be remembered
or come to mind.

But be glad and rejoice forever
in what I am creating;

for I am about to create Jerusalem as a joy,
and its people as a delight.

Says the Lord. We are a new creation in Christ, and this day are born anew. And yet we will continue to grow into God's love and faithfulness, as we move forward, day by day. We will see Jesus face to face someday and rejoice, but for now, we move forward in infinite hope, even when others tell us our reason for faith is but an idle tale.

Amen.

1 D. Scott Stoner, “Hope Amidst the Mud” Wellness Compass Reflection for April 15, 2022 (via email).