Renewal

We adore you O Christ and we bless you because by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world.

And in the name of God, the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, Amen.

Death is not easy, other than the heartbreak, it is the familiarity of it all that gets to me most.

On such occasions where there is a funeral to attend or I am to serve as celebrant, I wake up with the same thoughts, the thoughts of who I’ve lost before.

The litany of names increases in length over time and I am reminded of my grandparents, my forebears, the friends who have died along the way.

I am reminded of different things to, how my mothers arm felt around my own as I led her down the aisle of the church at my grandfather’s funeral, the way my wife’s ring caught the light at another funeral at some point in time.

Memories flood back, routine kicks in.

I rise, I get dressed in my suit or clericals, I head to the funeral home or church.

I prepare myself to hear the stories, hear the eulogies, speak my own, and all the while, keeping it together, we must me strong through grief.

And I witness too the liturgy that keeps it all in check, we read the words we read before, the words call up the memories even more, the memories of the last time we were in church celebrating the life of another who we loved.

And there are tasks to be done, people to see all before the day when we say goodbye until we reach our rising.

And that is where the women are this morning.

They are mourning.

Just three days before they saw their lord and savior, their friend, their master, their son, expire on the cross at Calvary.

They spent the days weeping.

Banging their fists against there sternums, they sat on the packed dirt floors of their homes, they removed themselves to empty rooms in the city, they cried upon their beds, a flashing memory of a laugh they shared flashed before them as they brewed their tea, they were bereft.

And still there are tasks to be performed even and especially in the midst of mourning.

They rose to the memory that he was not there.

The waking dreams of days in the sun, days spent watching over him as a boy, days of friendship, of splendor in the grass, fade.

They wake to a dark room a home less familiar because of his absence.

They wake, they rise from bed, they shuffle across the floor and light a candle for light to get ready by, their shoulders slump and sag, they do not wish to be awake.

They do not wish to do the tasks they are meant to do, that they must do as is custom.

But there are tasks to be done even and especially in a time of grief.

They gather their spices.

They meet up together at a certain place on the road, the rising sun is considering its entrance into the new day.

And at daybreak they arrive at the tomb.

They know what to expect.

They know they will see him again.

But it won’t be the same.

There is a difference in life and in death.

They move toward the tomb and as they get closer, they see something is amiss.

The stone that closed the sarcophagus was moved; it has been rolled away.

At first a bit of anger flashes, the stone should not have been moved.

Would the Romans never leave them alone?

Are they stealing bodies now?

Their wondering did not last for long.

Their wondering turned to wonder.

Two men in clothes bright and shining and new suddenly stood with them.

In their presence the women bowed down before the men almost reflexively for they must be great men if they wore such dazzling clothes.

The men began to ask them questions that didn’t make sense.

Why look for the living among the dead?

Who is living?

Certainly, Jesus was dead.

They saw that.

They saw him on the cross, they saw him breathe out his last.

They were not looking for the living for they knew he was already dead.

But the men continued, reminding the women of what he said.

How he talked about how the Son of Man must be crucified and then, after three days, would rise again.

My God.

It was true.

The women were astounded.

Of course!

Of course he said those things!

We remember!

At the time, we didn’t know what to think but now we see it.

We see it!

Lord we see it!

The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

And from disbelief, to open-mouthed agoggedness, they knew.

They had to go.

They had to share the word.

They gathered their things in haste.

A spice jar was dropped to the ground accidentally, its lid rolled clinking across the floor until it settled close the center of the empty tomb.

The women left the tomb in haste, laughing and shouting hosannas along the way.

The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

The walk-ran to where the apostles were hiding out, the women banged on the door.

An apostle opened it carefully peering in the crack between door and doorframe to make sure it was safe.

The women pushed through, ignoring the apostles carefulness.

They had no time for care, they had good news to share!

The women were glad and smiling and shouting.

The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

The women were there to evangelize!

The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

And the apostles, just like the women before them, did not understand what was being said, because they heard of what happened to the cross.

They heard of Jesus breathing his last.

Mary’s grief must be too much for her, for she watched her son on the cross.

Mary Magdalene’s sadness must be overwhelming for she saw her friend, her teacher on the cross.

Joanna must be confused for she saw the man she served and the man who healed her of evil spirits and disease on the cross.

The rest of the women.

Was this some kind of mass hysteria?

And so the apostles dismissed them.

The women’s glee though, would not subside.

“Alleluia,” they said, “the Lord is risen, he is risen indeed, alleluia!

And the apostles went back to the weeping, their rendering of their hearts, their grieving.

Except Peter.

Peter was taught a very wise thing it seems, for he listened to the women.

He got up.

He went to the tomb.

And he too saw it empty.

The Lord had risen.

He had risen indeed.

Alleluia.

This past week beginning with Palm Sunday and even throughout Lent, we have tried to key into the reflective nature of this season.

On Wednesday some of us attended a Tenebrae service over at St. James.

We heard the story of the passion amidst candles and darkness.

We inhabited the grief of the moment of our saviors death.

This past Thursday and Friday, we once again explored the events that led to his arrest and demise.

Yesterday we sat at the foot of the altar trying to understand the grief of a savior gone.

We were asked to enter into the feelings associated with loss.

And we did so, partially, so that we could fully feel the joy and awe of this moment.

We went through the routine and performed the tasks that surround death so that we might wake this morning and know, yes, but feel, truly feel the joy and awe of our savior resurrected.

And here we are.

Born anew in the new life that Christ promises.

Refreshed by the arrival of a new Spring that that the Lord provides.

For this is not allegory, I have no metaphors to make this all seem more real than it actually is; the Lord is risen, he is risen indeed!

Alleluia!

And we now have choices and new tasks.

Our choice is do we now leave the empty tomb and evangelize the word of our living Lord?

Or do we visit the tomb on this day, on this sunny Sunday, and return home holding onto the miracle for ourselves, amazed at what had happened?

The first choice is hard, but friends, it is our calling.

We cannot escape the specialness of the feelings received this day, our risen savior escaped the darkened tomb.

And we too must not try to escape then the tasks associated with his rising.

For the joy found in the today’s gospel is just as great as the joy that will be found in sharing Christ’s ministry outside these walls and within them.

There is a whole world out there waiting to be confronted with good news; how will we deliver it?

Will we serve each other by feeding each other?

Will we lift up the poor who need lifting?

Will we heal those who need healing?

Because our charge now is to leave the tomb and share the word in action, word, and deed.

Our charge now is to not let this moment pass.

We can doubt as Thomas did.

We can return home as Peter did.

We can try to dismiss the word as the apostles did, but we cannot escape our charge.

Thomas overcame his doubt.

Peter eventually left his home and formed the church in which we sit.

The apostles spread the word no longer able to dismiss the miracle before them.

And so from Easter onward, we are to renew our faith and relive that same miracle, that we worship and serve a living God, a Christ who defeated sin and death by overcoming the cross.

We have in these last weeks travelled with Jesus, we have witnessed servanthood, we have seen his betrayal, his arrest, his crucifixion, and we have seen him overcome all of that.

And he overcame all of that for us.

For our friends, our families, our enemies and those who are strangers to us, he overcame all of that, for he is Son of God who came to save us from our sins and provide a victory over death.

What we do with that knowledge matters.

How we interact with the world while worshiping a living Christ, matters.

Let us go forth and change this world, for the Lord is risen!

He has risen, indeed!

Alleluia!