Easter is about the Risen Christ. But wait! To use St Paul’s vision, we are the Risen One’s body in the world! Easter, then, is about the WE and US: holy, eternal, common-union!
Rather than say anything more at this point, I wish to go directly to the Emmaus story and take the risk of interpreting it by changing the text, using collective words for the presence of church—for example, WE and US, in place of names and pronouns for Jesus. I think this moves us away from getting stuck back in history, and brings us into the Living Gift of Christ’s presence here and now. Oh, the sweet fragrance and shock of Easter, now!
So, unleash your creativity and passion for God and encounter again the story of Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35):
Now on [Easter two] were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, WE came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing US. And WE said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered US, “Are you the only strangers in Jerusalem who do not know the things that have taken place there in these days?”
WE asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem [God’s people]. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.”
Then WE said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into… glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, WE interpreted to them the things about US in all the scriptures.
As they came near the village to which they were going, WE walked ahead as if WE were going on. But they urged US strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So WE went in to stay with them. When WE were at the table with them, WE took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized US; and WE vanished from their sight.
They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while THEY were talking to us on the road, while THEY were opening the scriptures to us?”
That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how [the holy common-union, Christ in and as US] had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.
The story, like the Christ, lives today! I have seen and heard exactly such Easter marveling from the newly baptized over their experience of having been gently led into the body of Christ—the scriptures coming alive for them, the sacraments dazzling with divine presence, and for them the almost inexpressible awe and joy of being welcomed and included in the common-union.
Living the Emmaus story is what church at its best, does. We encounter people on life’s journey. We open the scriptures, and engage the conversation. And then, at the table, the bread broken, and everyone is “us”. We look and see—Christ, the eternal Living Word! And our hearts burn within us, and we want to go and tell our friends.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Monday, May 2, 2011
Out of the Darkness, Life!
Easter Vigil
St John’s Lutheran Church, Sacramento, CA
April 23, 201
John 20:1-18
Mary Magdalene comes to us tonight after some “20 centuries of conscious and unconscious composition," writes James Baker, "she is Bible story, saint, medieval myth, Renaissance legend and [finally] modern pop heroine”--and shady lady, ala Kazantzakis’ novel and later the movie, The Last Temptation of Christ, and Jesus Christ Superstar, and Dan Brown’s novel, The Da Vinci Code.
In the biblical accounts she is one of several women who followed Jesus from Galilee to his appointment with fate in Jerusalem. She is the one out of whom Jesus cast seven devils. She sees Jesus crucified, follows his body to the tomb, returns with the first group on Easter morning, and later in the day is the first to speak with the Risen Christ. The Gospels say no more. By Easter Monday she has disappeared from the record. But she’s never been forgotten.
Mary’s story is a story about any of us people of faith. Easter always begins in darkness. I speak to both you new ones in the faith and you older ones in the faith. I speak to you who have affirmed your faith and you who have accompanied these seekers on their journey into the life of Christ as lived in and through St John’s Lutheran Church. I speak to us all:
Easter always begins in the darkness. For Mary, her darkness began with the mental illness that once oppressed her. Now we have gathered here tonight in the growing darkness that symbolizes the shadows of our lives. We are haunted by our shadows; there is the darkening desolation of our losses, and the agonizing midnight wilderness of our humiliations, shame, and the looming wee hours of anxiety and hopelessness. All the spoken and unspoken truth we bring here tonight. Here, where our very souls cry out for light and life and hope.
And therefore every one of us here tonight, no matter the gender, is Mary Magdalene.
And, like Mary Magdalene drawn to the garden tomb, hoping against hope, here we have been drawn, or in the dark depths of some bottom we’ve hit, been nudged by the Spirit, toward faith and to this gathering. And we hope and pray that in this time and place, especially in the blessed sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion, we will again, or maybe for the first time, recognize in our own deaths and resurrections the compassionate presence of the One who loves us and with such tenderness speaks our names even in the shadows of our lives.
For this is the night. This is the beginning. This is the dawning of the eternal light for every Mary Magdalene. “Mary”, he says. “Mary”. And she calls him her old familiar name, “Rabbouni”. And he says, “Do not hold onto me.” He means, let go of what you think you must still have from the past. Let go of even your old ideas of me.
“Mary”, he said. In overwhelmed love and gratitude, she lets go of her Jesus, leaves her shadowed old life behind, and in the dawn of the new age goes straight to her friends and proclaims, “I have seen the Lord.”
The One who once was dead is now more alive than any other human being she, or any one of us, has ever known.
Thus, writes Presbyterian Pastor and scholar Craig Barnes,
After the resurrection, things do not return to normal. That’s the good news. It is basic to everything else the New Testament proclaims. After seeing a risen Jesus, we see that there is no normal. Now we can’t even count on the darkness. All we know for sure is that a risen Savior is on the loose. And he knows our names.
Let us be apostles of such an Easter. Amen.
St John’s Lutheran Church, Sacramento, CA
April 23, 201
John 20:1-18
Mary Magdalene comes to us tonight after some “20 centuries of conscious and unconscious composition," writes James Baker, "she is Bible story, saint, medieval myth, Renaissance legend and [finally] modern pop heroine”--and shady lady, ala Kazantzakis’ novel and later the movie, The Last Temptation of Christ, and Jesus Christ Superstar, and Dan Brown’s novel, The Da Vinci Code.
In the biblical accounts she is one of several women who followed Jesus from Galilee to his appointment with fate in Jerusalem. She is the one out of whom Jesus cast seven devils. She sees Jesus crucified, follows his body to the tomb, returns with the first group on Easter morning, and later in the day is the first to speak with the Risen Christ. The Gospels say no more. By Easter Monday she has disappeared from the record. But she’s never been forgotten.
Mary’s story is a story about any of us people of faith. Easter always begins in darkness. I speak to both you new ones in the faith and you older ones in the faith. I speak to you who have affirmed your faith and you who have accompanied these seekers on their journey into the life of Christ as lived in and through St John’s Lutheran Church. I speak to us all:
Easter always begins in the darkness. For Mary, her darkness began with the mental illness that once oppressed her. Now we have gathered here tonight in the growing darkness that symbolizes the shadows of our lives. We are haunted by our shadows; there is the darkening desolation of our losses, and the agonizing midnight wilderness of our humiliations, shame, and the looming wee hours of anxiety and hopelessness. All the spoken and unspoken truth we bring here tonight. Here, where our very souls cry out for light and life and hope.
And therefore every one of us here tonight, no matter the gender, is Mary Magdalene.
And, like Mary Magdalene drawn to the garden tomb, hoping against hope, here we have been drawn, or in the dark depths of some bottom we’ve hit, been nudged by the Spirit, toward faith and to this gathering. And we hope and pray that in this time and place, especially in the blessed sacraments of Baptism and Holy Communion, we will again, or maybe for the first time, recognize in our own deaths and resurrections the compassionate presence of the One who loves us and with such tenderness speaks our names even in the shadows of our lives.
For this is the night. This is the beginning. This is the dawning of the eternal light for every Mary Magdalene. “Mary”, he says. “Mary”. And she calls him her old familiar name, “Rabbouni”. And he says, “Do not hold onto me.” He means, let go of what you think you must still have from the past. Let go of even your old ideas of me.
“Mary”, he said. In overwhelmed love and gratitude, she lets go of her Jesus, leaves her shadowed old life behind, and in the dawn of the new age goes straight to her friends and proclaims, “I have seen the Lord.”
The One who once was dead is now more alive than any other human being she, or any one of us, has ever known.
Thus, writes Presbyterian Pastor and scholar Craig Barnes,
After the resurrection, things do not return to normal. That’s the good news. It is basic to everything else the New Testament proclaims. After seeing a risen Jesus, we see that there is no normal. Now we can’t even count on the darkness. All we know for sure is that a risen Savior is on the loose. And he knows our names.
Let us be apostles of such an Easter. Amen.
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