Easter Sunday 2007

Alive!

John 20: 1-18

Rev. Elizabeth Macaulay

 

I have been pastor of this church for three plus years now.  I began here the last Sunday in June in 2003.

 

The second Sunday I was here was a Sunday on which we celebrated communion together.  Now that is a big deal, both for church and for pastor, because joining together at the table of Jesus is one of the most important practices we share.  It matters greatly.  So on the first Sunday I was to lead us through that sacrament, I was nervous.  I wanted it to be perfect.  (It’s an affliction of mine) The space in the sanctuary itself was beautiful, as it always is.  There were plants all around and two big trees, one on either side of the altar.  All was right.

 

As I went to begin the prayer over the meal, I noticed a movement in the back of the sanctuary, right where the glass doors are between the way back of the sanctuary and the main sanctuary.  It was a quick movement, at floor level, and while my brain noticed it, I continued to lead the Great Thanksgiving.  The movement came again, and it became clear to me that the movement was a squirrel.  Lose.  Running around the back of the sanctuary.

 

Hmmm, I thought.  Well, what to do about this?  All the while leading the prayer.  I decided that I would know soon enough if the squirrel decided it was time to come to worship, because people would let me know.

 

Well, the squirrel DID want to come into worship.  That thing came barreling down the left side of the sanctuary.  People responded as it streaked by.  No screaming, since we are well trained about proper worship behavior, but there was plenty of body language to testify that having a squirrel on the loose was not an altogether comfortable thing in church.

 

It turns out the squirrel had a destination in mind because he came straight up onto the altar and LEAPT into one of the fake trees flanking it.  And the way he threw his body through the air and the power with which it encountered the shelter of that tree, sensing that at last there was something familiar and safe in which to find refuge…. that is what Easter feels like to me.

 

Like the hope-fueled leap of the squirrel.

 

After all the anxiety and fear and emotional anguish that is sparked when fear is big and hope is mangled, the leap of heart that comes with the possibility of new life is full-body bliss.

 

On that first Easter morning we know that Mary and the followers of Jesus had been through the stretch of giving themselves to his teachings and presence.  They had eaten meals and walked roads and prayed with and worried about and chosen to follow a carpenter from Galilee who touched them in the place where hope lives – a place so often guarded and cautious. 

 

Jesus had not only sparked in them an imagination for life lived in such a way where neighbors are loved as self and power is practiced in mutual community.  Jesus had sparked in the powers of the day a great fear.  Because his teachings threatened the ways they held and practiced power, the temple and the state conspired to execute him on a cross.

 

So the grief of the disciples was immense.

 

Not only did they mourn the death of a man they called teacher and friend.

 

They mourned too the death of the vision he cast:  a vision of blessings in the midst of a world strangled by woes.

 

Can you imagine the state of their hearts?

 

So Mary and the other disciples approach the tomb knowing the power of grief.  Knowing the need to be present to it.  And knowing the ways of fear.  What is life like while dealing with such loss?  Any of us who have known the sting of losing a loved one or a dream know the feeling of intense grief.  It is raw.

 

And greeted as they were by the inexplicable – the tomb filled not with the testimony of death but with the witness of profound mystery and power – the disciples, we are told, leave the place and return to their homes, to the familiar.  To the safe.

 

But Mary remains.  And what Mary does is testimony and lesson for we who are confronted by the dark fear provoked by anguish.

 

Mary remains in it.  And she goes beyond merely marking the emptiness.  She stoops to look inside the tomb.  Rather than dodge the pain or deny the pain or pretty up the pain, Mary stoops to look inside that tomb, that place of darkness where the life of her heart resides.

 

And there she sees, not the emptiness of a desecrated tomb, but the presence of holiness in the form of angels.  Angels who bear witness to her distress.  And she is companioned by her beloved Jesus, present with her, even though in her profound grief she cannot recognize him until he calls her by name.

 

And then he tells her that she must not hold to him, but let him go, in order that his life and hers may be the larger for the loosing.

 

Oh my brothers and sisters is there a one of us here who does not need to live this promise of new life?

 

We hold onto so much that keeps us from it –

 

Regrets and guilt and grief and should-haves and layers upon layers of pain that we don’t want to acknowledge but they, they acknowledge us.  Because they cling to us like barnacles.  Picture Jacob Marley from “A Christmas Carol” and the weight of the chains he dragged behind him.

 

Dickens knew the power of remorse unloosed.

 

We know it too.  It contorts our souls in the form of addictions and shame.

 

But hear the good news of Easter:

 

We share the promise given through the gift of Jesus.  We are promised that God so loved the world that he sent his only Son in order that all who believe in him will not live lives of quiet desperation and death, but lives that point toward the power that resurrection IS.  NOW.  We’re called to live it not in some far-off heaven but NOW.  In the fullness of our living.

 

The power of this choosing to live the gift of love in Christ Jesus is immense in its power.  It makes all the difference.

 

I talked a while ago with a dear friend.  This friend has struggled for years with very real remorse about the way he had chose to parent his children.  He had worked long and hard hours and the stresses of his job took much of his heart away from home. And he mourned that terribly, now that his children are grown.  He has prayed about this a lot, and has had many conversations with God about forgiveness.

 

He told me that a few weeks ago, he experienced something that was profoundly different.  It took him a few days to realize the change.

 

What was different and odd and new in his life was this.  He realized that he has awakened many times in the past few days when the first thought he had upon waking was not what a rotten person he was.

 

Instead, he woke to an appreciation of the sound of the birds and the promise of the day to come.

 

He told me that in realizing that shift, the absence of self slicing upon waking, he became aware of how his own sense of his own badness had ruled so many of his thoughts.  It was like a bad tooth, he told me, something he couldn’t stop himself from exploring and fixating on.

 

But lately, my friend is experimenting with giving energy to living into the forgiveness that is held out to him.  And he is willing to see that he did nothing in his parenting out of cruelty.  He just hadn’t thought about what he was or wasn’t doing.  And his constant revisiting of what he did or did not do cannot change the past.

 

And he realized this.  His holding onto his huge sense of remorse had become in some sort of crazy way a crutch for him.  His constant friend it was.  His reason for not unfolding into the great beauty that God had created him to embrace.

 

And he realized that holding onto his sense of his own badness was in some core sense arrogant.  Because if God sent Jesus who taught mercy and forgiveness and God watched that same Jesus be crucified by fear and if God would, could, forgive that and grace those who had wounded Jesus so grievously with the power of the resurrection, who was he to say what God was capable of?

 

He came to believe that “Blessed are the poor in spirit” was a beatitude that had life for him.  Because he knew that his poverty to spirit meant that he knew God was God and he was not and that God is a God of forgiveness and life.

 

He is alive again!  My friend is alive!

 

And he many not leap through the air like a squirrel in search of a tree, but he knows that kind of joy because he is free, he is, to live into the gospel of reconciliation and celebration that is the birthright of his faith.

 

Listen.  We all carry our griefs.  We let people down.  We let ourselves down.  We know this.

 

As a people of the resurrection we are called to claim this and know that in the owning of our grief and the letting go of the things we must loose, we are called to live into God’s vision for us.

 

Alive.  Fully alive!

 

Amen