God's not normal: Resurrection of Our Lord

The first reading is Acts 10:34-43.

The second reading is 1 Corinthians 15:19-26.

The holy gospel according to Luke (24:1-12)

¹On the first day of the week,

       at early dawn,

              [the women] came to the tomb,

                     taking the spices that they had prepared.

       ²They found the stone rolled away from the tomb,

              ³but when they went in,

                     they did not find the body.

       ⁴While they were perplexed about this,

              suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them.

              ⁵The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground,

                     but the men said to them,

                            “Why do you look for the living among the dead?

                                   He is not here,

                                          but has risen.

                                   ⁶Remember how he told you,

                                          while he was still in Galilee,

                                                 ⁷that the Son of Humanity must be handed over 

                                                       to sinners,

                                                 and be crucified,

                                                 and on the third day rise again.”

                     ⁸Then the women remembered his words,

                            ⁹and returning from the tomb,

                                   they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest.

              ¹⁰Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna,

              Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them

                     who told this to the apostles.

                            ¹¹But these words seemed to them an idle tale,

                                   and they did not believe them.

                                          ¹²But Peter got up and ran to the tomb;

                                                 stooping and looking in,

                                                       he saw the linen cloths by themselves;

                                                 then he went home,

                                                       amazed at what had happened.

The gospel of the Lord.

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“Why do you look for the living among the dead?” the angels ask the women, those first witnesses of the resurrection.  “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

The women are still stuck in Good Friday and the Holy Saturday of grief and waiting and what happens now?  They, like many of us, look among the dead.

This week and this year have been Good Friday times.  In the last two weeks alone, terrorist attacks have struck in:

Ankara, Turkey;

Grand-Bassam, Ivory Coast; 

Maiduguri, Nigeria;

Peshawar, Pakistan;

Istanbul, Turkey;

Bamako, Mali;

and Brussels, Belgium.[1] 

People in this country have been killed, abused, struck with illnesses, and natural disasters.  Many of our loved ones have died over the last several months.  Stress, anxiety, abuse, depression, and discrimination make life hard for many of us.

Death, hatred, and fear seem to be taking over.  We look around and much of the time we are looking “among the dead.”  We don’t really know what to do, when we sit and grieve and wonder what has gone wrong?  Why is the world so messed up? 

And yet even in a world so full of pain and hurt—so full of Good Friday and Holy Saturday, we hear Mary and the women as they proclaim: Christ is risen!  (Christ is risen, indeed!)  Alleluia!  In our amazement with Peter, we join the proclamation of Mary, Peter, Paul, the women, and the angels that Christ is risen!  (Christ is risen, indeed!)  Alleluia!  All Christ’s enemies are underfoot and “²⁶The last enemy to be destroyed is death.”

Christ crucified is the reality we live in and yet the Resurrection pulls us in.  “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Today we come among the dead.  But are we looking for the living?  Are we actually looking for Christ in all of this Good Friday/Holy Saturday mess?  Are we looking for the living among the dead or are we just looking for the dead among the dead? At least we come looking…and no matter what we’re searching for, we find: the living. 

Maybe we come on Easter because it’s just what we always do on Sunday morning.  Maybe we come for our family.  Maybe we come because our doubts and our questions can keep us away every other week of the year, but we’re just not ready to give up on it all yet.  Maybe we’re afraid of death and looking for a way out.  Maybe we come for the mystery of it.  Maybe we come looking for the living—the new life to be found.  Maybe we come for this different community.  Whatever the reason, the Holy Spirit gathers us together.

We join Mary and the other women following Jesus from dinner to the garden to the cross and the tomb.  And this morning, we show up.  We show up because we need the reminder.  The tomb is empty.  “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

At first the women are perplexed by the empty tomb.  They don’t know what to make of it.  They don’t know what to believe, they are filled with questions and doubts.

And so the angels come with their own question and reminders.  The angels recount Jesus’ words, foretelling his death and resurrection.

That is what Easter is for.  It is for remembering.  For remembering “how [Jesus] told you, while he was still in Galilee, ⁷that the Son of Humanity must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.”  And then the women remembered.  And we remember.  We gave thanks for our baptisms today in particular, because they join us together with Christ in his death in order to also join Christ in the resurrection.  Baptism re-members us into the body of Christ and reminds us of the resurrection.

We tell the story of our faith.  We remember and remind each other of the wonder and awe. 

The women have a special place in the resurrection.  Early on that Easter morning in Jerusalem, “Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them” come with spices—here in Rushford they come with egg bakes, cinnamon rolls, fruit, and coffee.  Mary and the other women show up faithfully.  The spices scenting the air, with no plan for the stone, hoping against hope that something will work out.  They come to look “among the dead” and they are surprised into the resurrection.  The angels of God re-member them into their place as followers of Christ and apostles to the apostles. 

And the story begins to spread.  The angels remind the women and the women become the bearers of this story.  They go to remind the apostles, who … don’t believe the women.  But the women share the news anyway and while they share, and the men don’t believe, Peter at least goes to investigate and he comes away amazed. 

Peter can no longer deny the truth of the women’s story.  Peter is transformed by the resurrection, and joins the women as a storyteller, as we heard in today’s reading from Acts. 

Resurrection is powerful because it sparks something in us. 

It is startling—shocking even—that a person could die—and not just die, but be killed—in such a terrible, public, political way,                         and then, just a few days later, rise from the dead?!?!  Think about it.            That’s just not normal!  If we heard about something like that happening today, would we believe?

That is the shock of the Resurrection.  That is how God works.  God works slowly and quietly turning winter into spring and God works with a big bang.  Because God is not normal.  God doesn’t make sense.  And yet, God is.

The other day a friend was telling a story of a card game with God.  You’re playing poker with God and as the game goes along, you might just have the best hand you’ve ever had—four of a kind!  It couldn’t get better, and so when God goes all in, you call it.  You’ve got this.  And then, the big reveal, …and God has 5 aces!

God’s not normal.  God’s so not normal…  that God cheats.

That is Easter, folks.  Easter is God’s ultimate cheat.  Death and the powers of evil—hatred and fear—think they’ve won.  God has come to humanity in love and humanity has responded with crucifixion.  Death, evil, hatred, and fear think they’ve put this dissident who’s “doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil,” this one who’s stirring things up, preaching God’s love and grace for even the outcasts and the sinners.  “That one” they finally think they have put to death.  They sure showed him!  “hanging him on a tree.”  Death has finally claimed God and Nietzsche is right.  “God is dead.”

A friend of mine shared a video on Facebook yesterday of a group of people in North Carolina.  North Carolina has been in the news this week for passing a bill that will roll back existing protections and rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and queer folks.  The video was of the response of LGBTQ activists in North Carolina.  The government in North Carolina thinks they’ve won.  They think they have the power and the powerless are put in their place.

Little do they realize, the party’s just begun!  The spices are ready, the Sabbath is over, the women head to the tomb in despair … and Jesus, the dissident, the danger, the dead one “is not here, but has risen.”  And the tables are turned!  In North Carolina, the video was of activists dancing.  They had a dance-in to protest the legislation.  That is resurrection in the flesh. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Christ is risen!  (Christ is risen, indeed!) Alleluia!  Christ triumphs over the fear and hatred that sent him to the cross!  Christ triumphs over evil and all enemies.  Christ triumphs over death.  God cheats and God wins. 

And in doing so, Christ frees us.  Christ breaks our bonds of fear and hatred and even death because Christ has conquered them. “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Paul proclaims that “²⁶The last enemy to be destroyed is death” and here today on Easter morning, the last enemy is conquered and we dance and celebrate the cheat and the victory of Christ’s resurrection.

Because Christ is risen!  (Christ is risen, indeed!) Alleluia!!

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[1] On March 13^th in Ankara, Turkey a terrorist attack killed 37 people and wounded many more.  That same day in Grand-Bassam, Ivory Coast terrorist linked to Al Qaeda attacked people at the beach, with 22 killed and many more wounded.  On March 16^th in Maiduguri, Nigeria two suicide bombers, likely linked to Boko Haram, attacked a mosque and killed 24 worshipers.  That same day in Peshawar, Pakistan, a terrorist attack, likely linked to Taliban militants, killed at least 15 and wounded many more.  On March 20^th in Istanbul, Turkey, a suicide bomber linked to ISIS killed 5 people and wounded many more.  On March 21^st in Bamako, Mali, 3 terrorist attacked a hotel serving as headquarters to a European Union mission.  On March 22^nd in Brussels, Belgium, a terrorist attack killed 34 people and wounded many more. 

Whose voice will prevail? - Palm/Passion Sunday

The Palm Processional Reading (Luke 19:28-40).

After Jesus had said this,

       he went on ahead,

              going up to Jerusalem.

When he had come near Bethphage and Bethany,

       at the place called the Mount of Olives,

              he sent two of the disciples, saying,

                     “Go into the village ahead of you,

                            and as you enter it you will find tied there a colt

                                   that has never been ridden.

                            Untie it and bring it here.

                                   If anyone asks you, ‘Why are you untying it?’

                                          just say this, ‘The Lord needs it.’”

              So those who were sent departed and found it as he had told them.

                     As they were untying the colt,

                            its owners asked them, “Why are you untying the colt?”

                            They said, “The Lord needs it.”

                            Then they brought it to Jesus;

                                   and after throwing their cloaks on the colt,

                                          they set Jesus on it.

                            As he rode along,

                                   people kept spreading their cloaks on the road.

                            As he was now approaching the path 

                                   down from the Mount of Olives,

                                   the whole multitude of the disciples began to praise God

                                          joyfully with a loud voice

                                                 for all the deeds of power that they had seen,

                                                 saying, “Blessed is the king

                                                       who comes in the name of the Lord!

                                                       Peace in heaven, and glory in the highest heaven!”

                            Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to him,

                                   “Teacher, order your disciples to stop.”

                            He answered,

                                   “I tell you, if these were silenced,

                                          the stones would shout out.”

The first reading was Isaiah 50:4-9.

The gospel was Luke 22:14-23:56.

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Today we began early with marching and palm branches.  We join the multitude of Jesus’ disciples throughout time and space in the absurd procession.  It is what we might today call street theatre.

To prepare for the Passover, Jesus and Pilate are both coming to Jerusalem.  Pilate will process in, probably at about the same time, from the other end of the city.  Pilate will come with infantry—legions of soldiers, mounted on the finest and strongest horses.  Pilate comes to enforce the Pax Romana—Roman peace that is less peace and more military suppression of any dissent.  So Pilate comes, mighty and powerful, from the West.

And from the East Jesus moseys along on a young colt, an animal lacking any military prowess whatsoever, and the multitude of disciples lay their cloaks at the feet of the colt, and sing praises.  While this is all in mockery of Pilate’s military parade, the shouts echo back even to Jesus’ birth, and we are reminded that Jesus has come to bring a deeper peace than any war or military might could temporarily secure.  Jesus, the Prince of Peace, was born for peace to rule on earth, as the angels sang; and in heaven as those gathered now cry out.  God’s glory will reign in peace.

…And yet, do the disciples really get what kind of peace Jesus will bring?  They praise Jesus “for all the deeds of power that they had seen.”  Praise for our Prince of Peace is right, but they don’t quite get the “why” of it.

As the journey continues, we discover with the disciples, that Jesus is not the king we thought he’d be—maybe not even the one we want him to be.

Though Jesus can “sustain the weary with a word” as Isaiah points out, Jesus has not come “for all the deeds of power that [the disciples] had seen,” and Jesus has not come for a military overthrow of the oppressive Roman Empire.  Jesus has come: to be with humanity, especially the oppressed, marginalized, and downtrodden of humanity.

God chooses the limits caused by true humanness.  God in Jesus chooses all of humanity and as Jesus shares in the Last Supper, his body and blood nourish us for the journey we take this week—the journey to the cross.

And before we know it, we are in the Mount of Olives and find ourselves ready to strike with a sword in order to defend our God and our faith, not even giving Jesus time to say no so that all he can do is limit the violence done in his name, stopping the escalation and healing the physical pain the violence inflicted.   

Then, in a stupor, we follow our arrested savior.  Maybe hoping he will be the Messiah come to overthrow the Roman occupation after all, or maybe we’re just too numb to think, and there is Peter around the fire.  And we are with him, denying Jesus—perhaps through words or, more likely, through our silence or inaction in the face of evil—hatred and fear.

But it doesn’t matter because as Jesus is tortured and passed from the high priest to Pilate to Herod and back to Pilate, a few in the crowd, the leaders we consider most powerful,                                                begin to stir up the crowd.  They spew hatred at Jesus for the threat they fear, for the difference in him.  They provoke the crowd into a frenzied fervor.  It builds with the hateful, vehement rhetoric—the fear of Jesus’ teachings, the spite for his welcome for “sinners,” maybe even for the darkness of his skin and the texture of his hair—his Arab, Jewish features that are not quite Roman enough.

As the hatred and fear-based rhetoric builds, Pilate comes out and declares Jesus: not guilty.                          But it’s too late.  The crowd has lost all its compassion, all its love.  It is riled up to the point of operating as a mob as we shout “crucify, crucify him!”

Jesus may be the king we need, but he is definitely not the one the crowd wants.  They would rather have Barabbas, the terrorist, a murderer leading a violent rebellion, than the King of Compassion, the Prince of Peace.  And so as they cry for crucifixion, “their voices prevail(ed).”  Everyone turns towards the cross.

As the remaining journey to the cross proceeds, as we witness Jesus’ crucifixion, his body hanged on a tree by an angry mob.  As the final barrier between God and humanity is torn in two with the veil of the temple and Jesus joins humanity even in death, we are left with our ears still ringing, “crucify, crucify him!”  We are left wondering how “their voices prevailed.”  How did hatred, fear, and violence prevail over the Prince of Peace?  Did my voice join in?  Was I shouting in hatred?  In fear?  In pain?

Did I lose sight or sound of Jesus’ love and the compassion that fills me with hope?  Did I harden my own heart against the love from God to others?

But we know: the end is not yet here.  There is still time.  Jesus is still being crucified.  Every time we choose hatred, fear, or violence over love and compassion, Jesus is crucified again and again.  The story is still unfolding and we all get to choose this time.  We don’t have to join the angry mob. 

So, whose voice will prevail?  Whose voice do you follow?  The Prince of Peace, full of love and compassion? Or the voice of hatred and fear that calls for crucifixion—exclusion, violence, and death?  Whose voice will prevail today?

a first person account of the prodigal: lent 4c

The first reading, underlying the sermon, is 2 Corinthians 5:16-21.

The holy gospel according to Luke (15:1-3, 11b-32)

Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to listen to Jesus.

      ²And the Pharisees and the scribes were grumbling and saying,

            “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with them.”

      ³So he told them this parable:

“There was a man who had two sons.

      ¹²The younger of them said to his father,

            ‘Father, give me the share of the property that will belong to me.’

                  So he divided his property between them.

      ¹³A few days later the younger son gathered all he had

            and traveled to a distant country,

            and there he squandered his property in dissolute living.

            ¹⁴When he had spent everything,

                  a severe famine took place throughout that country,

                  and he began to be in need.

            ¹⁵So he went and hired himself out

                  to one of the citizens of that country,

                        who sent him to his fields to feed the pigs.

                              ¹⁶He would gladly have filled himself with the pods

                                    that the pigs were eating;

                                          and no one gave him anything.

            ¹⁷But when he came to himself he said,

                  ‘How many of my father’s hired hands have bread enough and to spare,

                        but here I am dying of hunger!

                        ¹⁸I will get up and go to my father,

                              and I will say to him,

                                    “Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;

                                          ¹⁹I am no longer worthy to be called your son;

                                                treat me like one of your hired hands.”’

      ²⁰So he set off and went to his father.

            But while he was still far off,

                  his father saw him and was filled with compassion;

                  he ran and put his arms around him and kissed him.

            ²¹Then the son said to him,

                  ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you;

                        I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

            ²²But the father said to his slaves,

                  ‘Quickly, bring out a robe—the best one—

                        and put it on him;

                        put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet.

                  ²³And get the fatted calf and kill it,

                        and let us eat and celebrate;

                              ²⁴for this son of mine was dead and is alive again;

                                    he was lost and is found!’

                                          And they began to celebrate.

²⁵“Now his elder son was in the field;

      and when he came and approached the house,

            he heard music and dancing.

      ²⁶He called one of the slaves

            and asked what was going on.

      ²⁷He replied,

            ‘Your brother has come,

            and your father has killed the fatted calf,

                  because he has got him back safe and sound.’

      ²⁸Then he became angry and refused to go in.

            His father came out and began to plead with him.

      ²⁹But he answered his father,

            ‘Listen!

                  For all these years I have been working like a slave for you,

                  and I have never disobeyed your command;

                        yet you have never given me even a young goat

                              so that I might celebrate with my friends.

                        ³⁰But when this son of yours came back,

                              who has devoured your property with prostitutes,

                                    you killed the fatted calf for him!’

      ³¹Then the father said to him,

            ‘Son, you are always with me,

                  and all that is mine is yours.

                        ³²But we had to celebrate and rejoice,

                              because this brother of yours was dead

                                    and has come to life;

                              he was lost

                                    and has been found.’”

The gospel of the lord.

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It’s been years—it feels like forever.  I can still see his back loaded up with all he had, his animals carrying even more.  His words to our dad ringing in my ears.  He left us.  He told Dad he was as good as dead to him, took his inheritance,    and took off! 

As I watched him leave us behind for dead, I made up my mind and he became dead to me as well.

All those memories of playing and working and dancing together.  Growing up, he was always eager for an adventure, a new place to explore or a new game to play.  Sometimes it got a bit dangerous, but I was always there to dutifully keep him safe.  I was always there to watch and protect him.  Until he wasn’t there anymore.  Until he turned his back and left me.

It was so quiet in those days after he left.  Every noise drew our eyes back to the road.  Every shimmer of light in the hot son was my brother coming back.  Our nights were quiet.  We just sat, all of us together.  The stories of adventure and songs for dancing had left with my brother.

Night after night and day after day he didn’t come back.  And…eventually…we stopped looking up at every sound and squinting at every mirage.  We started to talk in the evenings, quietly at first, just a couple words, then news about the crops.  It never returned to the joy and exuberance of my brother, but we found a new normal.  It was more subdued, but it was still family and we got used to it.

Life went on.  A bit calmer, a bit quieter, and quite a bit more predictable.  We heard about famines far away, but our crops were growing just fine and I spent only a fleeting moment wondering if my brother was in one of those distant countries.

Then               everything changed.  I remember it like it was yesterday.

That morning, I finally accept that he’s gone for good—dead to me and, from his pattern of behavior and our lack of news, probably dead to the world.

But then, while walking in from another long day in the field, I hear a noise I haven’t heard in years.  Music!  I call over one of the slaves and ask what’s going on.

My.      Brother?  He’s dead!  Lost for good!  He is no brother to me!  He abandoned us while I stayed and served Dad faithfully, never asking for anything, doing all I could to make up for the lost work with his son gone.

And now he’s back?  With music?  He turned his back on us!  We were as good as dead to him!  I finally think I’ve let go of all the pain he caused me and here he is tearing open the old wound, peeling off the scab as my heart begins to bleed again with the pain of it all.

He’s back.  He’s back and there’s music and my dad kills the fatted calf for him!  All these years I’ve worked and for what?  For him to give his other son everything?!  What have I ever had to show for my years of work and obedience?  No thanks, no celebration, no acknowledgement, nothing.  I am the constant, I am the dependable one, and he is the one who put us to death, demanding his inheritance.

But here he is.  Back with music and joy.  And Dad is standing in front of me patiently begging me to come in.  He doesn’t get it!  All I can think is that I have worked like a slave—for what?  For nothing!  Never once has he given me even a goat!  We sit night after night, hardly breaking the silence and now the house will explode with the music, the feast, and the joy!  It’s not right.  It doesn’t fit.  Not anymore.

But here is my dad, standing before me, pleading me to joy, nevertheless.  And in there is his son.  Is … my brother. 

And then it hits me. 

If all that is Dad’s is mine, if we are always together, what if the joy and noise and celebration disappearing wasn’t all because of my brother leaving?  What if I had asked for a goat?  What if I had asked to dance?

My brother was dead—to us, at least—but even so he was always living.  He was lost—but finding new life and experiences.  What if the thing keeping my brother dead, keeping us in mourning, was ourselves? 

What if our house, our family, is a family of abundant joy?  What if we needed my brother to leave so that he could bring joy back into our lives, banishing my resentment? 

What if Dad’s love has always been big enough to celebrate and rejoice?  What if this whole time I have just been getting in my own way?  What if I give in to the celebration?  What if I choose to forgive the pain and hurt of losing my brother? 

What if I could remember the love and the joy?  What if I could risk it again?  What if I choose to remember the dancing and playing more than the loneliness and abandonment?  What if I enter the party?  Would it make all the difference?

It’s been years now since that night and I still remember the feast laid out.  The food was better than anything and the music still rings in my ears.  That night did make all the difference.  We laugh again now.  We dance; we even play sometimes, and we work together and sit together.  The pain and the hurt still come back, especially when I’m annoyed or frustrated.  But it no longer outweighs the joy.

We are family.  We’re different now than we were.  We can never be the family my brother left behind, but we are family in a new way now.  We sit and talk and we laugh and dance, sharing stories of pigs in distant lands, of tax collectors and sinners; and of mishaps and adventures at home.

It’s not always easy, but we’re figuring it out.  Sometimes I have to decide again to forgive him.  And our parents are patient with us and there are times when we all tread a little more lightly with each other. 

Dad was wrong, though.  It wasn’t just my brother.  We were all dead and have come to new life; we were all lost and have been found.

Thanks be to God.