Easter Sunday 2021 April 4
Mark 16:1-8
Christ is risen, Alleluia! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!
What a joy it is to stand and preach before you in person today, after the long drought of the past months. A year ago, we faced an Easter that did not feel much like Easter at all. We were still in shock, uncertain how long our pandemic-forced lock-down would last, but SURE that it couldn’t be all that long.
Yet today we gather for the first time in person since the fall.
And together, we cry out, Christ is risen, Alleluia! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!
For safety, we meet outdoors, with a plan still forming of how to ease into some semblance of in-person worship that honors both the safety of our people and our deepest need and desire to worship in person.
With many still missing in our numbers, “normal”, that thing we are craving, is still far away. We may forever be redefined by the adjective “new,” for our “normal” may look quite different from what we remember.
Last April I wrote a pastoral letter in which I laid out a plan that, since the liturgical season of Easter lasts for 50 days, guaranteed that when we again met in person, we would simply pick up and carry on, celebrating “Easter” on whatever Sunday during the season that might be. Who knew that we would be where we are a year later?
Who knew that over the course of the year, 2.7 million beloveds across the world would be lost to COVID, more than half a million of those in our own country, and that the number would still be climbing?
How could we have pictured the ways in which communities around the world would experience life as a see-saw as wave after wave of infections vastly changed families and communities forever?
How could we have known that right here in Pennsylvania, while the number of deaths would be falling, which is a good thing, those infected and those with long-term affects and losses caused by the virus would still be growing? Who could ever have foreseen it?
Yet here we are, and none of that can take from us our Easter joy. None of those realities can dampen the thrill with which we sing to the glory of God, gathered together crying out in joy, Christ is risen, Alleluia! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
The gospel story we just read from Mark is not the flashiest, nor the “most popular” telling of the glorious resurrection of Jesus. John’s telling, with its women excitedly sharing their findings at the tomb, and angels, and ecstatic disciples racing toward the tomb, and Jesus-as gardener, is usually the favored version of the first Easter morning, certainly more than the one Mark presents.
And yet, Mark’s telling of the events of that morning seem perfect for us this year. Mark gives off a stronger vibe of mystery and even uncertainty, as the women leave the scene silent and afraid. There must be joy for the women at the news that Jesus is risen, but what we are told is that as they leave, they are feeling much more fear and amazement. And who wouldn’t feel that way, given the circumstances?
As we gather today, we pray for the world that has endured so much fear, terror, and loss – more than we can even comprehend. We hear the terms COVID-brain and pandemic-distress, and reports on the mental and emotional-health ramifications of our COVID-reality on school-children, on isolated seniors, on newly stay-at-home parents, the workforce, small business owners, medical personnel, first-responders – on most of us.
And yet, nothing can stop our celebratory shout for an Easter morning when we are reminded that as Christ is risen from the grave, defeating the powers of death and hell, we have Easter joy to share because despite the realities I just named, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Some of us may be weary; some of us may be numb from the events of the past year. Some of us are bewildered – how can a pandemic go so long uncontrolled when we have the kind of medical research, technological wizardry and biomedical capabilities as we have today?
Some of us are just sad or overwhelmed.
But here we are, observing another Easter, and acknowledging that despite the suffering of the world, despite the changes in our lives, and the uncertainty of the future, Christ is alive! No longer dead, no longer laying in the bonds of mortality.
Rather, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
For all of the reasons I’ve named and so many more, perhaps the truth is that Mark’s version of the Gospel, his telling of the resurrection story is exactly the one that we need to hear this year, as we gather to celebrate God’s mysterious, wonderful, incomprehensible, passionate, loving work of redemption.
Up until now, I’ve been urging you to shout, to claim the truth of Easter Sunday with the acclamation that Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
But rather than shout the refrain as we always do, perhaps this year, of all years, you would much rather whisper the words. Perhaps your truth is you don’t want to shout, cry out, without a doubt the resurrection refrain. If you are in a place where you would much rather tap out the rhythm of the words with your fingers, or whisper them, or speak them quietly in the silence of your heart, not only is it okay, it is in perfect keeping with the resurrection story as we have received it via Mark, today. I can shout enough for you, and me, and all of us. And I’m sure I have friends here who are more than happy to make a messy, noisy, joyful noise to the Lord!
For Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Nothing pleases me more than the emergence of the blossoms and leaves of countless shrubs and trees each Spring. Seeds and tiny buds and perennial tubers have lain dormant for a season, many of them entirely unseen, but late in winter or early in spring, unseen beneath the frosted lawns and flowerbeds, unbidden along the branches and twigs, life begins to emerge from seemingly dead places. The beginning of the transformation is unseen to the naked eye but happens in God’s timing and is God’s creative work.
The stirring, the emerging awakening, the transition from hibernation to life happens in mystery, hidden from our eyes. But it happens all around us. In the past couple of weeks, I have been noticing that hidden life suddenly emerging, and transforming the world around us day by day as it always does this time of year.
God works inside us in the same way. There is life inside us that we cannot see. There is mystery to this life.
There are times when we are dried up. When we are lifeless, fragile, unseeing, unable to imagine a future. Certain of nothing, filled with fear, trembling, and darkness.
But remember that every single gospel account of the resurrection of Jesus tells us that it happened in total darkness. It happened in mystery. It happened outside of the comprehension of anyone, even the disciples – those closest to Jesus in life.
Sometime before dawn on a Sunday over two thousand hears ago, the great mystery of all time happened in the dark. In secret. No cameras, no social media accounts, no human eye, no light, witnessed the event. No human narrative can contain it.
Despite all that, on this morning of all mornings, on this day of all days, we declare with confidence, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Saint Anselm of Canterbury described Christian life as “Faith seeking understanding” and on Easter Sunday, in a year such as the one we are living, perhaps more than at any other time, this motto of Anselm’s seems to me to make sense and to describe perfectly why this year perhaps more than any in my lifetime, it is with joy and as much confidence as I have ever had in my life, that yes, oh yes, Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!
While this year has been hard in many ways, I cannot help but be astonished at the places, the ways, and the people in whom I have seen God working and moving this year.
The women traveled on foot to the tomb and along the way, they pondered, “who will roll away the stone, from the opening to the tomb?” And lo and behold, when they arrived, it had already been done for them by the power of God.
Throughout this year, one barrier after another has been overcome – how would be worship? How would we meet our fiscal responsibilities? How would Zion continue to do mission? How would we feed people – continue our community meals? What would happen to the renewal process at Zion, which was really just gaining steam? What would we do about Steps to Success, since we couldn’t meet? What would happen with worship? How could we keep people safe? How could we, as a community, maintain connection? Care for people in their times of loss, illness, or need? There seemed to be so much darkness surrounding these questions and more, and no light to shine on any of them.
But I stand here to tell you that time and time again I saw God answer our questions, pave the way, water the seeds until they popped through the topsoil, pile up the graveclothes, roll the stone away from the entrance to the tomb.
Over and over again we have seen new life emerge where we have least expected it. Mystery has surrounded us. God has called us. Jesus has redeemed us.
Today we shout with joy that Jesus Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Because, while we are still afflicted by the brokenness in the world, by our shortcomings and sin, by our self-centeredness and blindness, Christ lives. Jesus saves. With his love and by his resurrection, he transforms us.
Today, we have Easter joy. Today, we are filled with faith. Today, Christ’s peace resides within us. Love surrounds and fills us – all because of Jesus.
The women left in silence. There was fear and amazement. They told no one what had happened. Yet.
But the story didn’t depend on what happened through them in that moment. Because the glorious truth of the conquered grave and mysterious, victorious, risen Lord ultimately made its way from their lips to every single corner of the world; to every continent, every country, and it is still being heard and shared and spread.
Let us too, therefore, honor the story and share it. The tomb is empty. Death is vanquished. Jesus lives, because Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Amen.
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