Easter

To say that this Easter Sunday will be like no other is certainly an understatement. There is no question that this Easter is different. Very different. Our churches are empty, not filled by the crowds we were hoping for. Not even gatherings of any meaningful size. So many of us are isolated, unsure even of when we might be able to freely go out again. Many of us are afraid – for our safety, for our lives, for our future or if not for ourselves certainly for our families and the things we care about.  As I thought about what I might say today in the midst of all of this the thought crossed my mind what value will my words really have.  What comfort could I bring, if any, to you on this Easter Sunday? 

            I spoke to someone over the phone this week and they said it doesn’t really seem like Easter, and I’m not in the Easter mood.  So much suffering, death, fear, and unknown.   But strikingly, this Easter is not all that different from the first Easter. After all, there were no crowds gathered to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. The crowds greeted Jesus as a conquering hero when he entered Jerusalem at the beginning of the week, but by week’s end condemned him as a criminal and later jeered him on his lonely march to the cross.  What we read described on that first Easter is a very small gathering – in Matthew’s account just two women.   These two women were well under the current prescribed limits of ten people per gathering.  They were the first witnesses to the resurrection, and what they do when they see Jesus face to face they worship him.

            What about the rest of the disciples.  Where were they?  Living in isolation and fear, cloistered, in a home where they had locked the doors out of fear for their safety. They were still reeling from the brutal heartache and loss they had experienced two days earlier, unsure of what the future held, unable to imagine their lives ever returning to normal.  Does this sound familiar?

            When Easter first came to the disciple’s they did not take Jesus’s resurrection and is message of hope and courage for granted.  Today April 12 2020, a day we will never forget we are stripped, for good reason, but nevertheless we are stripped of many of our traditions and rituals that we hold dear.  This Easter it might be helpful to focus on the fact that God has never promised that our worship services would always be grand, that our churches would overflow, that our economy will always be growing, that our health is guaranteed, or that our lives and future would unfold as we’d hoped and planned.  Rather, at the heart of the Gospel is the promise that God is both with us and for us at all times and through all conditions. In sorrow or joy, triumph or tragedy, gain or loss, peace or fear, scarcity or plenty, God is present.

            In the cross God promises to meets us especially where we most need God (and often least expect to find God): in hardship, struggle, loss, and death. Because of the cross no experience, no matter how difficult or awful, and no person, no matter how sinful or lost, is ever forsaken by God.  And in the resurrection, God promises that all the harsh realities of this life – hardship, struggle, loss, fear, disease, hunger, death – these realities – though painful do not have the last word. Rather the resurrection promises that God’s light is more powerful than darkness, that God’s love is stronger than hate, and that the life God offers through Christ prevails over all things, even death itself.

            In Matthew we hear this phrase over and over again “Do not be afraid!” – The startling, unexpected word of the angels is, “He is not here.” This Sunday, that statement “He is Not here.” may not simply serve as testimony to the empty tomb and promise of new life, but perhaps also remind us that even our beautifully decorated sanctuaries, our carefully planned liturgies, and our joyous and Easter-dressed people cannot contain Jesus. He is always out ahead of us, inviting us to meet him in Galilee… and in the face of the need of our neighbor and in our care for one another and the world. Jesus is still not where we expect him to be, but rather is still inviting us to move forward and outward in faith, still promising to meet us up ahead, still reminding us that he will be with us always, even to the close of the age.

            Jesus is out ahead, calling us to life; Jesus knows us and loves us and calls us by name – these are not insignificant things. Like the disciples of old, in times like these we should take care to hear them anew and find the faith and courage not simply to survive but also to flourish. We could do lots and lots complaining of how bad things.  Some of us have lost our jobs, some have been furloughed.  It spring and we can’t get out of the house.  The kids are going stir crazy.  When we go to the store we have to stand in line to get in.  And thousands are getting sick and many are dying, over 108,000 worldwide as of last night. How long or Lord how long. 

            I have been thinking how can we make sense of all these death, how can we honor those who have died.  We are learning during these days that African Americans in certain communities like Chicago, New Orleans, and my home town of Milwaukee are dying at a disproportionately higher rate than others.  They are dying as a result of the virus yes but at a higher rate because of raciest policies, poverty, poor health services, and inadequate education that has forced them to live in community that have been unhealthy before the virus even became a pandemic.  It does not have to be this way and we can and must do better.   Many of the people who are servicing us now, while we are at home, make up this population.  They are servicing us making deliveries, stocking the stocking store, managing the checkout process, delivering our mail.    Maybe the best way to honor them is to resolve to use this time to make things better going forward. 

            God sent Jesus to dwell in our sinful flesh and become one of us. Jesus took upon himself the condemnation of humanity, suffered the death that we deserved and was publicly executed in the most degrading way. Through Jesus' death and resurrection, God reached out to bring us back into relationship with him.

That is why Paul writes, "The trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised...and we shall be changed... Then shall come to pass the saying that is written, 'Death is swallowed up in victory.'" God's power is manifest whenever we reach out. Christianity is not Christianity unless we reach out like God reaches out to us.

            The church of Jesus started small. But isn't that what Christianity is all about? Our faith is about little actions.  Sending card to shut-ins because right now we can’t visit, but when we can again,  tutoring inner-city children, participating in a prison ministry, teaching Sunday school, going on a mission trip, taking a pilgrimage or feeding the homeless, and demand that our government develop new polices that will free people of poverty, poor health care, and schools that underperform. 

            Easter faith is about reaching out. None of these small acts will solve the unspeakable problems that besiege our world. But that's not how Christians view it. Every dollar, each kind word, every deed and act of Christian love is part of the great cosmic drama inspired by God's reaching out to us when Jesus rose from the grave. I believe in the resurrection in part because I see Christ alive and at work in each of us. I see the risen Christ working through you--the Body of Christ on earth.  Resurrection power is explosive! It is the power to reach out beyond ourselves and join the risen Jesus in caring for those in need. Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed! Alleluia. Amen.