The Resurrection Of Our Lord/Easter Day
Preaching
Lectionary Preaching Workbook
Series VII, Cycle C
Theme For The Day
Our culture still "seeks the living among the dead" as it pursues security, comfort, and pleasure.
First Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
Peter's Easter Testimony
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. There was a famous series of guest columns in the journal, The Christian Century, titled "How My Mind Has Changed." In these words, spoken by Peter to the centurion Cornelius, the Apostle shares how his mind has changed with respect to the mission to the Gentiles. "I truly understand that God shows no partiality," he proclaims (v. 34). He now knows something he did not know a short time before: that Jews and Gentiles alike may receive the gift of salvation offered by Jesus Christ. In a few short verses, Peter shares the heart of the Christian proclamation, culminating the good news of resurrection (vv. 37-41). The implication of all this is a clear commission: "He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead ... everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name" (vv. 42-43). That ought to be the proclamation of every Easter worshiper as well.
Alternate First Lesson
Isaiah 65:17-25
New Heavens And A New Earth
Chapter 65 of Isaiah functions, in many ways, as the conclusion of that book (even though there is another chapter that follows it). The prophet's encouraging words to the dispirited exiles soar to new and glorious heights. Clearly, the things he is promising -- among them, an end to sorrow and premature death, universal peace and prosperity, perpetual closeness to God, even an end to carnivorous behavior by lions and wolves -- have yet to be realized. Yet, that is the nature of hope, is it not? "Hope that is seen is not hope," as it says in Romans 8:24. From the Christian standpoint, the resurrection of Jesus Christ functions as a sort of down payment by God -- assuring us that, one day, even these extravagant hopes will be realized in Christ.
New Testament Lesson
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
Resurrection Hope
(See the Sixth Sunday After The Epiphany.) This passage is particularly known and loved in the context of funeral services -- and with good reason, for it celebrates Christ's triumph over death. In verse 19, we pick up the tail end of Paul's reductionist argument, through which he hypothesizes that, if Christ were not in fact raised from the dead, "we are of all people most to be pitied," for the rewards of our faith would then be limited only to this life. But this is not so, Paul proclaims! Christ has in fact been raised (v. 20). Through a rather obscure argument (at least to modern ears), Paul explains how the resurrection was necessary to procure salvation for the human race, in order to counterbalance the sin of Adam (vv. 21-22). The risen Christ is the firstfruits, our assurance that the full abundance of the harvest is on its way (v. 23). When that harvest rolls in, Christ will achieve final victory over "every ruler and every authority and power" (v. 25). "The last enemy to be destroyed is death" (v. 26). There is a pronounced eschatological theme here, that many of us may be used to addressing primarily during Advent. Yet it is part of Easter proclamation as well. The resurrection is not only the most glorious event in the past, but is also a foretaste of God's glorious future.
Alternate New Testament Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. (See First Lesson, above.)
The Gospel
John 20:1-18
Mary Magdalene Encounters Jesus At the Tomb
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. To many, the Johannine account of Jesus' resurrection is the quintessential Easter story. At its heart is the compelling, dramatic encounter between Jesus and Mary Magdalene, one of the most significant leaders of the early church. There is a now-discredited tradition -- one that has absolutely no biblical basis and which did not even arise until many centuries after Mary lived -- that she had been a woman of doubtful virtue before meeting Jesus. This spurious tradition was in fact a clumsy attempt by a male-dominated hierarchy to besmirch the reputation of this great apostle, thereby squelching the role of women in church leadership. It should have no part in Easter proclamation. Mary met Jesus at the tomb because she was the most courageous of his disciples, not because she was the most emotionally dependent. Her tears are signs not of weakness, but of the great affection and respect she felt for this wise teacher who had healed her and taught her of God's ways. There is poignant irony in the fact that Mary does not at first recognize her beloved rabbi -- but then, who could have anticipated the Easter miracle? She had gone to the tomb looking for a corpse, not a living man. The same is true, so often, of us: We are so hesitant to open our minds and hearts, to take in the wonders God is working in our midst.
Alternate Gospel Lesson
Luke 24:1-12
Luke's Account Of The Resurrection
An idle tale. That's what larger group of the disciples thought of the testimony of a group of women -- among them Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary, the mother of James -- who claimed to have met an angel at Jesus' empty tomb, who told them he had risen. Only Peter, it seems, put any credence in their account, for he slipped out to the tomb to check it out for himself. He left the tomb shaking his head in amazement; Luke does not make it clear whether or not he believed, as the women did, or whether he was just perplexed at the mystery. The resurrection appearances, which will convince Jesus' followers that there is nothing idle about the women's tale, are yet to come.
Preaching Possibilities
Easter is the greatest feast on the Christian calendar: the church's celebration of new life. Yet, even after twenty centuries or so of Christians proclaiming "The Lord is risen!" the larger culture still seems remarkably resistant.
There's nothing new, nor particularly surprising, about that. Even Jesus' disciples resist the news at first. Luke tells the story of how a group of Galilean women -- members of Jesus' inner circle -- come down to his tomb early on the third day, and find it empty. The heavy stone that had blocked the entrance has been rolled away. The bundles of ointments and embalming spices these women have been holding in their hands fall to the ground. They will no longer be needed.
Two mysterious men are standing there, wearing clothes of dazzling white. Luke doesn't come right out and say it, but it's clear they're angels. The women do just what they're supposed to do, when meeting an angel: they fall to their knees and bow their faces to the ground. It seems these angels are not entirely pleased although their reproof is probably delivered with some gentleness, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen" (Luke 24:5).
Then, the angels remind these women of something they know perfectly well already. Back when he was with them, Jesus had spoken of things to come: of how "the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again." With those words of their Master's echoing in their minds, the women finally get it. They understand the wondrous miracle that has taken place. They rise to their feet, dash back to their fellow disciples, and bring them the glorious news.
"But," as Luke tells it, the eleven are less than impressed. "These words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them" (Luke 24:11).
An "idle tale" it still seems today at least to much of our culture. The truth is, all of us are still seeking the living among the dead -- at least most of the time. We have heard the gospel. We say we believe it. But translating those beliefs into action is another thing altogether. There are numerous ways people of our culture seek the living among the dead, but three will do for today's purposes.
The first way people in our culture seek the living among the dead is in our obsession with security. In these post-9/11 years, security continues to be one of the biggest growth sectors of our economy. If you work for a company that makes burglar alarms, or bulletproof vests, or "meals ready to eat" for the military, you've got it made. Customers will be lining up to buy those products for many years to come.
The sad thing about the security industry, though, is that it really doesn't produce anything. The whole purpose of security is defensive: staving off some bad thing that could possibly happen. If we lived in a world where people truly trusted one another, truly respected and cared for each other, we would have no need to spend all that money to make sure we're safe. Why is it that we continue to seek the living among the dead, when it comes to security?
A second way we frequently seek the living among the dead is in our frantic rush to wealth and material comfort. This is the lure of consumerism. "How much money is enough?" someone once asked billionaire John D. Rockefeller. "Just a little bit more," he replied, with a smile.
That "just a little bit more" is the bane of many of our lives. We keep imagining -- if our income is rising -- that the next plateau of income will be the place where we're truly happy, but no sooner do we achieve it, than we're looking upward to the next rung on the ladder. Conversely, if our income's going down, we're often driven to despair, imagining all sorts of dire consequences -- when the reality is, most of us have as much as we truly need to live, and then some. A mere downsizing of expectations would make a world of difference -- but we associate such a downsizing with failure, so we don't want to go there.
What's true of income is even more true of expenditures. Advertising feeds our collective appetite for consumption, making us ravenous to own that latest trendy item (whatever it may be). Comforts and luxuries our parents and grandparents could only dream of, we've come to consider as basic rights. So eager are many of us to "keep up with the Joneses" that we run up our credit card balances, sometimes to crazy levels. The irony, of course, is that the Joneses are trying equally hard to keep up with us. Before we know it, we're both mired in debt. Why do we continually seek the living among the dead? We are not likely to find life in the bottom line on a credit card bill.
A third place we often seek the living among the dead is in the addictive pursuit of pleasure. Alcohol, gambling, tobacco, obsessive sexuality -- even the more socially acceptable sin of overeating -- all these ultimately lead to no place worth going. Underneath every self-destructive behavior is a craving for personal affirmation, even for love, but in the end, trying to satisfy that soul hunger with lesser things is as futile as trying to slake a thirst with sea water.
The psychologist, Gerald May, has written extensively on addictive behaviors from the standpoint of religious faith. He challenges the purely medical model of addiction, that sees it as a physical disorder to be treated, quite apart from any spiritual issues. "Addiction," May writes, "is the most powerful psychic enemy of humanity's desire for God."
For many of us, it's the principal distraction on the way to a life of true spiritual freedom. Putting this insight even more bluntly is the novelist, Bruce Smith. In his 1945 novel, The World, The Flesh, and Father Smith, he writes, "The young man who rings the bell at the brothel is unconsciously looking for God."
Such is the power of addiction: the vain attempt to substitute pleasure for joy. It matters little what the object of the addiction may be. The very nature of addiction is to be a parasite. It attaches itself to our native desire for inner, spiritual fulfillment -- for communion with God -- and if there's no intervention, in the end it will pull us down every time. It becomes, in the words of Jonathan Edwards, "like a viper, hissing and spitting at God" -- and at ourselves, as well, if we try to restrain it. When it comes to addictive behavior, why is it that we continue to seek the living among the dead?
These are just a few ways all of us are inclined to follow in the footsteps of those women, who approached Jesus' tomb with embalming spices in hand. We expect to see something considerably less miraculous than what is truly revealed.
Deep down, we all know there's a better way. There is, deep within the hearts of all of us, a yearning for new life: for transformation in Jesus Christ. Why else do we come to church on Easter morning?
We come to be reassured once again that life is more than simply what we make of it, by dint of our own effort. We come because there's a part of us that isn't content to settle for things as they've always been -- that wants to hold out for transformation. By the grace and power of Jesus Christ, addictions can be broken. Relationships can be restored. Illnesses can be healed. Sorrow can be lived through. Fear can be mastered; hope renewed; love rekindled. All these things are possible for us not because we have it in ourselves to achieve them, but because the risen Christ is eager to dwell in our hearts -- if we but let him in.
Prayer For The Day
Jesus Christ, we greet you!
Your hands still have holes in them,
your feet are wet from the dew;
and with the memory of our names
undimmed by three days of death
you meet us,
risen from the grave.
We fail to understand how;
we puzzle at the reason why.
But you have come:
not to answer our questions,
but to show us your face. Amen.
-- The Iona Community, from Stages on the Way (Chicago: GIA Publications, 2000), p. 186
To Illustrate
With twenty centuries of historical hindsight, we have grown comfortable with the idea of Jesus' resurrection, but -- as Rowan Williams, archbishop of Canterbury, reminds us in his 2004 Easter sermon -- it would have seemed a strange idea indeed to first-century ears:
A good few years ago, I heard a distinguished American scholar of ancient history commenting on the proclamation of the resurrection as it would have been heard in the classical world. "If an educated Greek or Roman had been told that someone had been raised from the dead," he said, "his first question would have been, 'How do you get him back into his grave again?' " The point was that most of those who first heard the Easter gospel would have found it grotesque or even frightening.
Resurrection was not a joyful sign of hope but an alarming oddity, something potentially very dangerous. The dead, if they survived at all, lived in their own world -- a shadowy place, where they were condemned to a sort of half-life of yearning and sadness. So Virgil at least represents it in his great epic, unforgettably portraying the dead as "stretching out their hands in longing for the other side of the river."
But for them to return would have been terrifying and unnatural; the boundaries between worlds had to be preserved and protected.
Even the ancient Hebrews, who first made resurrection a positive idea, thought of the condition of the dead in just such a way: and resurrection was something that would happen at the end of time, when the good would be raised to receive their reward and the wicked their punishment, as in the prophecy of Daniel. But the news that someone had been raised from the tomb now would have been as disturbing for the Jew as for the Greek, if not perhaps quite so straightforwardly frightening.
***
Back in the seventeenth century, the English Protestant divine Richard Baxter wrote a hymn, expressing his heartfelt desire to rely on the risen Christ, and him alone, for salvation. The melody of his hymn is all but lost to the church's memory, but his words live on:
Christ leads me through no darker rooms
Than He went through before;
He that unto God's Kingdom comes
Must enter by that door.
My knowledge of that life is small.
The eye of faith is dim.
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all
And I shall be with him.
***
William Sloane Coffin, former minister of New York City's Riverside Church, told of an Easter sunrise service held annually on the rim of the Grand Canyon. Although environmental concerns have led to the end of this practice, it used to be that, as the gospel account of the angel rolling away the stone was read, someone pushed a massive boulder over the canyon's edge. The congregation watched -- and heard -- it crash mightily into the depths.
"Too dramatic?" asked Coffin. "No," he replied, "the gospel message itself demands such drama."
***
During the course of the Vietnam war, the wife of a young Vietnamese man was killed, leaving him with a child of about five years of age. In order to make a living, the man became a peddler. His rounds often took him far from home; he had not choice but to leave his young son with neighbors.
After one particularly long sojourn, he returned to find his village completely destroyed. Going through the ruins of the houses, he at last found the house he judged to have been the one belonging to his neighbors. Amidst the ashes, he found a pile of small bones, obviously a child's. The peddler felt sure these must be the remains of his child. Reverently he gathered them up and put them in a small bag. From that day forward, he carried the bag with him at all times.
Years went by. One night, just before dawn, he heard a knocking at the door. The knocking was urgent, and the man called from his bed, "Who's there?"
"My father!" cried a voice from the other side of the door. "I am your son."
"Go away," replied the man. "My son is dead."
"My father!" called the voice in the dark. "I was kidnapped and taken away. But at last I have escaped and have come home."
"Go away," groaned the man. "Do not mock my grief." And so, at last, the knocking ceased and the son went away.
The son was rejected, in favor of a bag of bones.
-- John Sumwalt
***
Our true life is not this external, material life that passes before our eyes here on earth, but the inner life of our spirit, for which the visible life serves only as a scaffolding -- a necessary aid to our spiritual growth.
Seeing before us an enormously high and elaborately constructed scaffolding, while the building itself only just shows above its foundations, we are apt to make the mistake of attaching more importance to the scaffolding than to the building for whose sake the former has been temporarily put up.
We must remind ourselves and one another that the scaffolding has no meaning and importance except to render possible the erection of the building itself.
-- Leo Tolstoy
***
I don't claim to understand it, but I do stand under it.
-- Theologian Douglas John Hall, speaking of the resurrection of Jesus
***
One can view a bridge in a number of ways. An engineer would study its physical properties: how it is put together, what materials it's constructed from, and the stresses it must bear on a daily basis. A historian would be interested to know who built it and how it has been updated and maintained. An artist would examine it from the standpoint how best to paint or photograph it. A traveler would consider it geographically -- whether it leads to a place worth visiting.
Similarly, the resurrection accounts of the New Testament can be viewed many ways. Yet only one aspect is of any real importance to us personally -- whether it will bear our weight when we walk over it. The only way to determine this is to try it. The truth of Jesus' resurrection has borne the weight of many a believer in generations past. This bridge is strong enough to carry us, too.
Our culture still "seeks the living among the dead" as it pursues security, comfort, and pleasure.
First Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
Peter's Easter Testimony
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. There was a famous series of guest columns in the journal, The Christian Century, titled "How My Mind Has Changed." In these words, spoken by Peter to the centurion Cornelius, the Apostle shares how his mind has changed with respect to the mission to the Gentiles. "I truly understand that God shows no partiality," he proclaims (v. 34). He now knows something he did not know a short time before: that Jews and Gentiles alike may receive the gift of salvation offered by Jesus Christ. In a few short verses, Peter shares the heart of the Christian proclamation, culminating the good news of resurrection (vv. 37-41). The implication of all this is a clear commission: "He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead ... everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name" (vv. 42-43). That ought to be the proclamation of every Easter worshiper as well.
Alternate First Lesson
Isaiah 65:17-25
New Heavens And A New Earth
Chapter 65 of Isaiah functions, in many ways, as the conclusion of that book (even though there is another chapter that follows it). The prophet's encouraging words to the dispirited exiles soar to new and glorious heights. Clearly, the things he is promising -- among them, an end to sorrow and premature death, universal peace and prosperity, perpetual closeness to God, even an end to carnivorous behavior by lions and wolves -- have yet to be realized. Yet, that is the nature of hope, is it not? "Hope that is seen is not hope," as it says in Romans 8:24. From the Christian standpoint, the resurrection of Jesus Christ functions as a sort of down payment by God -- assuring us that, one day, even these extravagant hopes will be realized in Christ.
New Testament Lesson
1 Corinthians 15:19-26
Resurrection Hope
(See the Sixth Sunday After The Epiphany.) This passage is particularly known and loved in the context of funeral services -- and with good reason, for it celebrates Christ's triumph over death. In verse 19, we pick up the tail end of Paul's reductionist argument, through which he hypothesizes that, if Christ were not in fact raised from the dead, "we are of all people most to be pitied," for the rewards of our faith would then be limited only to this life. But this is not so, Paul proclaims! Christ has in fact been raised (v. 20). Through a rather obscure argument (at least to modern ears), Paul explains how the resurrection was necessary to procure salvation for the human race, in order to counterbalance the sin of Adam (vv. 21-22). The risen Christ is the firstfruits, our assurance that the full abundance of the harvest is on its way (v. 23). When that harvest rolls in, Christ will achieve final victory over "every ruler and every authority and power" (v. 25). "The last enemy to be destroyed is death" (v. 26). There is a pronounced eschatological theme here, that many of us may be used to addressing primarily during Advent. Yet it is part of Easter proclamation as well. The resurrection is not only the most glorious event in the past, but is also a foretaste of God's glorious future.
Alternate New Testament Lesson
Acts 10:34-43
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. (See First Lesson, above.)
The Gospel
John 20:1-18
Mary Magdalene Encounters Jesus At the Tomb
This passage occurs in all three annual cycles of the lectionary for this day. To many, the Johannine account of Jesus' resurrection is the quintessential Easter story. At its heart is the compelling, dramatic encounter between Jesus and Mary Magdalene, one of the most significant leaders of the early church. There is a now-discredited tradition -- one that has absolutely no biblical basis and which did not even arise until many centuries after Mary lived -- that she had been a woman of doubtful virtue before meeting Jesus. This spurious tradition was in fact a clumsy attempt by a male-dominated hierarchy to besmirch the reputation of this great apostle, thereby squelching the role of women in church leadership. It should have no part in Easter proclamation. Mary met Jesus at the tomb because she was the most courageous of his disciples, not because she was the most emotionally dependent. Her tears are signs not of weakness, but of the great affection and respect she felt for this wise teacher who had healed her and taught her of God's ways. There is poignant irony in the fact that Mary does not at first recognize her beloved rabbi -- but then, who could have anticipated the Easter miracle? She had gone to the tomb looking for a corpse, not a living man. The same is true, so often, of us: We are so hesitant to open our minds and hearts, to take in the wonders God is working in our midst.
Alternate Gospel Lesson
Luke 24:1-12
Luke's Account Of The Resurrection
An idle tale. That's what larger group of the disciples thought of the testimony of a group of women -- among them Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary, the mother of James -- who claimed to have met an angel at Jesus' empty tomb, who told them he had risen. Only Peter, it seems, put any credence in their account, for he slipped out to the tomb to check it out for himself. He left the tomb shaking his head in amazement; Luke does not make it clear whether or not he believed, as the women did, or whether he was just perplexed at the mystery. The resurrection appearances, which will convince Jesus' followers that there is nothing idle about the women's tale, are yet to come.
Preaching Possibilities
Easter is the greatest feast on the Christian calendar: the church's celebration of new life. Yet, even after twenty centuries or so of Christians proclaiming "The Lord is risen!" the larger culture still seems remarkably resistant.
There's nothing new, nor particularly surprising, about that. Even Jesus' disciples resist the news at first. Luke tells the story of how a group of Galilean women -- members of Jesus' inner circle -- come down to his tomb early on the third day, and find it empty. The heavy stone that had blocked the entrance has been rolled away. The bundles of ointments and embalming spices these women have been holding in their hands fall to the ground. They will no longer be needed.
Two mysterious men are standing there, wearing clothes of dazzling white. Luke doesn't come right out and say it, but it's clear they're angels. The women do just what they're supposed to do, when meeting an angel: they fall to their knees and bow their faces to the ground. It seems these angels are not entirely pleased although their reproof is probably delivered with some gentleness, "Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen" (Luke 24:5).
Then, the angels remind these women of something they know perfectly well already. Back when he was with them, Jesus had spoken of things to come: of how "the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again." With those words of their Master's echoing in their minds, the women finally get it. They understand the wondrous miracle that has taken place. They rise to their feet, dash back to their fellow disciples, and bring them the glorious news.
"But," as Luke tells it, the eleven are less than impressed. "These words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them" (Luke 24:11).
An "idle tale" it still seems today at least to much of our culture. The truth is, all of us are still seeking the living among the dead -- at least most of the time. We have heard the gospel. We say we believe it. But translating those beliefs into action is another thing altogether. There are numerous ways people of our culture seek the living among the dead, but three will do for today's purposes.
The first way people in our culture seek the living among the dead is in our obsession with security. In these post-9/11 years, security continues to be one of the biggest growth sectors of our economy. If you work for a company that makes burglar alarms, or bulletproof vests, or "meals ready to eat" for the military, you've got it made. Customers will be lining up to buy those products for many years to come.
The sad thing about the security industry, though, is that it really doesn't produce anything. The whole purpose of security is defensive: staving off some bad thing that could possibly happen. If we lived in a world where people truly trusted one another, truly respected and cared for each other, we would have no need to spend all that money to make sure we're safe. Why is it that we continue to seek the living among the dead, when it comes to security?
A second way we frequently seek the living among the dead is in our frantic rush to wealth and material comfort. This is the lure of consumerism. "How much money is enough?" someone once asked billionaire John D. Rockefeller. "Just a little bit more," he replied, with a smile.
That "just a little bit more" is the bane of many of our lives. We keep imagining -- if our income is rising -- that the next plateau of income will be the place where we're truly happy, but no sooner do we achieve it, than we're looking upward to the next rung on the ladder. Conversely, if our income's going down, we're often driven to despair, imagining all sorts of dire consequences -- when the reality is, most of us have as much as we truly need to live, and then some. A mere downsizing of expectations would make a world of difference -- but we associate such a downsizing with failure, so we don't want to go there.
What's true of income is even more true of expenditures. Advertising feeds our collective appetite for consumption, making us ravenous to own that latest trendy item (whatever it may be). Comforts and luxuries our parents and grandparents could only dream of, we've come to consider as basic rights. So eager are many of us to "keep up with the Joneses" that we run up our credit card balances, sometimes to crazy levels. The irony, of course, is that the Joneses are trying equally hard to keep up with us. Before we know it, we're both mired in debt. Why do we continually seek the living among the dead? We are not likely to find life in the bottom line on a credit card bill.
A third place we often seek the living among the dead is in the addictive pursuit of pleasure. Alcohol, gambling, tobacco, obsessive sexuality -- even the more socially acceptable sin of overeating -- all these ultimately lead to no place worth going. Underneath every self-destructive behavior is a craving for personal affirmation, even for love, but in the end, trying to satisfy that soul hunger with lesser things is as futile as trying to slake a thirst with sea water.
The psychologist, Gerald May, has written extensively on addictive behaviors from the standpoint of religious faith. He challenges the purely medical model of addiction, that sees it as a physical disorder to be treated, quite apart from any spiritual issues. "Addiction," May writes, "is the most powerful psychic enemy of humanity's desire for God."
For many of us, it's the principal distraction on the way to a life of true spiritual freedom. Putting this insight even more bluntly is the novelist, Bruce Smith. In his 1945 novel, The World, The Flesh, and Father Smith, he writes, "The young man who rings the bell at the brothel is unconsciously looking for God."
Such is the power of addiction: the vain attempt to substitute pleasure for joy. It matters little what the object of the addiction may be. The very nature of addiction is to be a parasite. It attaches itself to our native desire for inner, spiritual fulfillment -- for communion with God -- and if there's no intervention, in the end it will pull us down every time. It becomes, in the words of Jonathan Edwards, "like a viper, hissing and spitting at God" -- and at ourselves, as well, if we try to restrain it. When it comes to addictive behavior, why is it that we continue to seek the living among the dead?
These are just a few ways all of us are inclined to follow in the footsteps of those women, who approached Jesus' tomb with embalming spices in hand. We expect to see something considerably less miraculous than what is truly revealed.
Deep down, we all know there's a better way. There is, deep within the hearts of all of us, a yearning for new life: for transformation in Jesus Christ. Why else do we come to church on Easter morning?
We come to be reassured once again that life is more than simply what we make of it, by dint of our own effort. We come because there's a part of us that isn't content to settle for things as they've always been -- that wants to hold out for transformation. By the grace and power of Jesus Christ, addictions can be broken. Relationships can be restored. Illnesses can be healed. Sorrow can be lived through. Fear can be mastered; hope renewed; love rekindled. All these things are possible for us not because we have it in ourselves to achieve them, but because the risen Christ is eager to dwell in our hearts -- if we but let him in.
Prayer For The Day
Jesus Christ, we greet you!
Your hands still have holes in them,
your feet are wet from the dew;
and with the memory of our names
undimmed by three days of death
you meet us,
risen from the grave.
We fail to understand how;
we puzzle at the reason why.
But you have come:
not to answer our questions,
but to show us your face. Amen.
-- The Iona Community, from Stages on the Way (Chicago: GIA Publications, 2000), p. 186
To Illustrate
With twenty centuries of historical hindsight, we have grown comfortable with the idea of Jesus' resurrection, but -- as Rowan Williams, archbishop of Canterbury, reminds us in his 2004 Easter sermon -- it would have seemed a strange idea indeed to first-century ears:
A good few years ago, I heard a distinguished American scholar of ancient history commenting on the proclamation of the resurrection as it would have been heard in the classical world. "If an educated Greek or Roman had been told that someone had been raised from the dead," he said, "his first question would have been, 'How do you get him back into his grave again?' " The point was that most of those who first heard the Easter gospel would have found it grotesque or even frightening.
Resurrection was not a joyful sign of hope but an alarming oddity, something potentially very dangerous. The dead, if they survived at all, lived in their own world -- a shadowy place, where they were condemned to a sort of half-life of yearning and sadness. So Virgil at least represents it in his great epic, unforgettably portraying the dead as "stretching out their hands in longing for the other side of the river."
But for them to return would have been terrifying and unnatural; the boundaries between worlds had to be preserved and protected.
Even the ancient Hebrews, who first made resurrection a positive idea, thought of the condition of the dead in just such a way: and resurrection was something that would happen at the end of time, when the good would be raised to receive their reward and the wicked their punishment, as in the prophecy of Daniel. But the news that someone had been raised from the tomb now would have been as disturbing for the Jew as for the Greek, if not perhaps quite so straightforwardly frightening.
***
Back in the seventeenth century, the English Protestant divine Richard Baxter wrote a hymn, expressing his heartfelt desire to rely on the risen Christ, and him alone, for salvation. The melody of his hymn is all but lost to the church's memory, but his words live on:
Christ leads me through no darker rooms
Than He went through before;
He that unto God's Kingdom comes
Must enter by that door.
My knowledge of that life is small.
The eye of faith is dim.
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all
And I shall be with him.
***
William Sloane Coffin, former minister of New York City's Riverside Church, told of an Easter sunrise service held annually on the rim of the Grand Canyon. Although environmental concerns have led to the end of this practice, it used to be that, as the gospel account of the angel rolling away the stone was read, someone pushed a massive boulder over the canyon's edge. The congregation watched -- and heard -- it crash mightily into the depths.
"Too dramatic?" asked Coffin. "No," he replied, "the gospel message itself demands such drama."
***
During the course of the Vietnam war, the wife of a young Vietnamese man was killed, leaving him with a child of about five years of age. In order to make a living, the man became a peddler. His rounds often took him far from home; he had not choice but to leave his young son with neighbors.
After one particularly long sojourn, he returned to find his village completely destroyed. Going through the ruins of the houses, he at last found the house he judged to have been the one belonging to his neighbors. Amidst the ashes, he found a pile of small bones, obviously a child's. The peddler felt sure these must be the remains of his child. Reverently he gathered them up and put them in a small bag. From that day forward, he carried the bag with him at all times.
Years went by. One night, just before dawn, he heard a knocking at the door. The knocking was urgent, and the man called from his bed, "Who's there?"
"My father!" cried a voice from the other side of the door. "I am your son."
"Go away," replied the man. "My son is dead."
"My father!" called the voice in the dark. "I was kidnapped and taken away. But at last I have escaped and have come home."
"Go away," groaned the man. "Do not mock my grief." And so, at last, the knocking ceased and the son went away.
The son was rejected, in favor of a bag of bones.
-- John Sumwalt
***
Our true life is not this external, material life that passes before our eyes here on earth, but the inner life of our spirit, for which the visible life serves only as a scaffolding -- a necessary aid to our spiritual growth.
Seeing before us an enormously high and elaborately constructed scaffolding, while the building itself only just shows above its foundations, we are apt to make the mistake of attaching more importance to the scaffolding than to the building for whose sake the former has been temporarily put up.
We must remind ourselves and one another that the scaffolding has no meaning and importance except to render possible the erection of the building itself.
-- Leo Tolstoy
***
I don't claim to understand it, but I do stand under it.
-- Theologian Douglas John Hall, speaking of the resurrection of Jesus
***
One can view a bridge in a number of ways. An engineer would study its physical properties: how it is put together, what materials it's constructed from, and the stresses it must bear on a daily basis. A historian would be interested to know who built it and how it has been updated and maintained. An artist would examine it from the standpoint how best to paint or photograph it. A traveler would consider it geographically -- whether it leads to a place worth visiting.
Similarly, the resurrection accounts of the New Testament can be viewed many ways. Yet only one aspect is of any real importance to us personally -- whether it will bear our weight when we walk over it. The only way to determine this is to try it. The truth of Jesus' resurrection has borne the weight of many a believer in generations past. This bridge is strong enough to carry us, too.
