An Easter Sunrise Service riff on the traditional "Paschal Homily"

All you Lovers of God, enjoy this Easter Celebration, this delightful festival of God’s love.

All you wearied from your Lenten spiritual practices and journey, now is your reward.

All you grateful and tired servants, rejoice and enter into Christ’s joy.

All you crucified ones, martyrs, and the dead, rest and reside in the Resurrection.

All you vigil holders and early risers, Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia.

All of you, 
You who are eager to run the race—look the Way of Jesus is ever before you!

Believers still puzzling over what you have found—is this not all our lot in life, faith seeking understanding?

Weeping Ones troubled by blunt question marks—take them as best you can and know he is present with you in your grief.

Christ seekers yearning to say, “I have seen the Lord!”—look for here is among us, where two or three gather, Christ is present.

All of you!

Christ is risen. (Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.)

 

         When Kingdoms rage and tyrants stomp blood stained feet—do not forget that our Ascended Lord and the Reign of God has been revealed.

         When hunger rumbles, join his joyful feast.

         When our life’s mistakes make us o’ so heavy, weep not, for forgiveness has dawned from the tomb.

         When friends die too young, when heartbreak hangs heavy upon us, when the loneliness of old age and death overshadows… be not afraid, for by joining us in death, the Savor has set us free.

         Hades swallowed him up, he went down deep into death, and yet it was death who was bound.

         The Grave encountered Jesus Christ and came up short. See, the bitterness of death bites it’s teeth, for death is abolished, mocked, death is slain and the rule of death is overthrown.

         See, it sought a human life, and found God. It accepted earth, but met heaven. It received a visible thing, and fell for the invisible.

         Say now: “O death, where is thy sting? O hades, where is thy victory?”

Christ is risen, and thou art cast down.

Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen.

Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice.

Christ is risen, and life flourisheth.

Christ is risen, and there is none dead in the tombs.

For Christ, being risen from the dead, is become the first-fruits of them that have fallen asleep. To Him be glory and dominion unto the ages of ages. Christ is risen. (Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia.)

Mary Magdalene meets her risen Lord.

          Christ is Risen, 

He is Risen indeed, Alleluia!

         Throughout the Season of Lent we’ve been preparing for this! 
Reading how six ordinary people
—Nichodemus, 
the Samaritan Woman, 
the Man Born Blind, 
and Martha, Mary, and Lazarus
—had their ordinary lives transformed into extraordinary lives
Because they encountered Jesus Christ
—they experienced God in sandals
—the Creator in the flesh ministering to them and to their needs.

 

         And today is the culmination of these stories by John: 
Mary Magdalene meets her risen Lord.

Prayer

 

         Mary was there at the cross, 
with the other women. 
She had witnessed 
his arrest, 
beating, 
humiliation, 
and execution. 
Now, alone and in the dark…
—remember John has a thing about lighting…

(Nick meets Jesus at night, 
the Samaritan Woman at high noon, 
the Man Born Blind has his night turned to day, 
and Jesus calls Lazarus out of an oh so dark tomb)

—In John’s gospel exposure to the Sun in the sky 
indicates an ongoing relationship with the Son of God…

         So Mary, assuming death has put an end to 
her relationship with Jesus, 
goes alone in darkness to the tomb, 
and finds the tomb not as they left it… 

 

         Have you ever had an awful week, 
and then, when you finally think it’s at least done, 
had one more thing piled atop it?

         That’s where Mary is
—The stone’s removal is not initially received as good news, 
but instead one last indignity, 
one more thing in a hellish week…

         “Oh Lord! Now we’ve got to find the body!”

         

         After the strange footrace between Peter and… 
the beloved Disciple, (probably Lazarus)
Mary finds herself alone again.

         She peers into the darkness of the tomb, 
yet another reminder that following Jesus seems to be a dead end.

         She peers in, and is surprised by two angels asking about her tears.

         “Why am I crying? 
My beloved teacher was executed 
and now I have to find the body!”

 

         And then, she turns around, 
and is asked again about her tears… 
and this man, 
perhaps the gardener, 
asks, 
“For whom are you looking?”

-What would soothe your soul?
-Right the wrongs of this world? 
-Whose presence would make God fully present for you?

         But she goes to the immediate problem… 
as most of us would…
“I need my Lord’s body, 
even if I have to drag it back here myself!”

         Then, the one she seeks, the one she needs, 
says her name:

         “Mary!”

         “Rabbouni!” she replies.

 

         She wants to hold onto him a little longer, 
so he won’t leave her again… 
and thank God, he’ll never leave her, 
he’ll always abide with her 
(and with us)
—that’s the promise of John’s gospel!
He abides with us 
as God abides with him!

 

         However, 
the story has to continue, 
there is more to come, 
the fullness of the resurrection, 
Jesus’ Lordship over a NEW Creation 
is already and not yet a tangible, experienced reality.
The Good Gardner is still planting a New Creation!

 

         The Lord
The One to whom Angels Minister
The Teacher
Our Ascendant Lord
The connection point with God
is establishing for us all an intimate relationship with 
His Father and our Father, 
his God and our God…

         Abiding in the extraordinary Love of God.

 

         It’s already here! 
Look at Mary. 

         She began warning the disciples that the body was taken, 
Now, at first light, 
she’s been commissioned by Christ to be the Apostle to the Apostles, 
announcing Jesus’ ascension, 
his enthronement as Lord of all… 
more than that, 
she is able to say, “I have seen the Lord!”

 

         I pray that we too, in the midst of our shouts and songs of Alleluia… 
and in our ordinary lives, 
will encounter the Love of God found in the Resurrected Lord
—Jesus Christ.

         I pray that like Nichodemus 
we may come to honor the one in whom we encounter eternity.

         Like the Samaritan Woman, 
may we experience the abundant life that is found in Jesus.

         When we’re driven outside the gates of goodness, 
may we, like the man born blind, be found by Jesus.

         Like Lazarus and his family, 
may service, joy, and life all be part of our faith.

         May we be able to say, 
as Mary said, “I have seen the Lord!”

Amen and Alleluia!

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            “Why is this night different from every other night?” The youngest guest at the Passover meal asks, reciting then the symbolic changes found in the meal

—flat bread because they had to get out of Egypt quickly, 
bitter herbs because slavery was bitter, 
greenery and Charioset to symbolize the gratitude and sweetness of escape, 
a meal seated—because a free people get to sit at meal…

            These questions, and symbols consumed, exist so that the story of God breaking the Jews out of slavery and bringing them into freedom 
might be passed on generation to generation.

            And tonight, on Maundy Thursday, our closest analogy to Passover
—it is worth ruminating on a similar question: “Why do we tell these stories?”

Prayer

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of Pharaoh, 
the story told by magnificent monuments made with slave labor that still overshadow us to this very day. 
We could tell the many stories of slave revolts put down, 
Spartacus, Vesey, and everyone in between. 
Those are stories that are fairly common, 
of might making right, 
the status quo, even when stifling and oppressive, staying put…

            But we tell the story of a people’s hurried hustle out of Egypt. 
God siding with slaves, 
the transformation of tears into sweet gratitude, 
backs straight and heads held high, 
on the other side of the Red Sea, a people forming, 
formed by the story of God’s goodness to them. 
A story’s retelling generation to generation as significant as any monument. 
God’s judgement and release retold among families forever.

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of King Herod or Governor Pilate at table in one palace or another. 
We could recite stories of leaders exalting themselves to vainglorious heights
—that’s not uncommon, is it? 
Or stories about the banishment of betrayers 
and how ruptures in relationship so often result in escalating, tit for tat, hatred!

            But we tell the story of the Teacher learning from Mary and Martha
—service & foot washing the example of love that endures, 
sitting at table with Lazarus who was dead but now is alive. 
A last meal that includes too, 
Peter who will deny him 
and Judas who will betray him. 
Even in such company, the great command 
experienced in washing and in meal
is “Love One Another!”

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell the story of the closed table of Corinth. 
How their religious practice degenerated into hypocrisy, 
how that Christian community in Corinth was so wed to their culture 
that they were using their new religion to reinforce hierarchies of wealth and education, 
an upstairs/downstairs type of faith where the majority were left humiliated and hungry. 
This too is a common story, is it not? 
A pattern that even good intentioned religious communities can fall into, 
chaplains of the surrounding culture 
and exclusive cliques.

            But we tell the corrective story Paul tells to the Corinthians; 
Jesus’ last supper is one different than cultural expectations
—in fact it overturns them, even as it gets him killed. 
Every time we recite and receive this meal, his life-giving service becomes the organizing principle of our life together.

 

“Why do we tell these stories?”

            We could tell all kinds of awful stories, 
read our world wrong, 
reinforce and justify every bad impulse in us… 

            But instead, we tell those stories that sit well with our souls.

Stories of freedom and dignity

Humility, love, service, and friendship

The best of religion overcoming the worst of culture, 
communities where everyone matters.

            We tell these stories so that we can store up hope, 
pass on a future that reaches for something more 
more than hatred, hypocrisy and holding other people down. 

            We tell stories that are out of the ordinary, 
miraculous even; 
stories that could only be taken seriously because a loving God exists,

a loving God who is glorified in: 

liberation of the oppressed,
loving service, 
and proclamation of Gospel.

Amen.