St. Paul’s Church in
Bergen, Jersey City NJ
April 1, 2018
Easter Day
Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15:1-11
John 20:1-18
A Daffodil Easter
Alleluia!
Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
No
matter how many times I hear it, I never get tired of the story.
After what I’m
sure was a sleepless night trying not to remember but remembering only too well
the horrors she had witnessed as the One she knew and loved as Lord and friend died
a shameful and painful death on the cross – after so much sadness and loss – despite so much sadness and loss and
fear - Mary Magdalene arrives alone early back at the tomb – so early that it
was still dark.
Why?
The Evangelist
John doesn’t tell us, but perhaps Mary Magdalene needed some time apart from
the other disciples who were hiding in fear of the authorities who had killed
Jesus, and ashamed that they had abandoned Jesus at the end.
Maybe she needed time
with what she thought was left of Jesus.
Or, perhaps, Mary
Magdalene sensed that maybe the horror and the terror and the fear was not the
end of the story – maybe even in the midst of so much grief she was able to
remember Jesus’ promise to rise again.
In any event,
suddenly, right there in the garden, her world was turned upside-down once
again – the tomb had been opened and she assumes someone has taken the Lord’s
body.
How can there still be even more horror after
everything she has endured?
She runs to get
the men, but, after a little footrace back to the tomb, no surprise, they’re no
use at all.
And, then Mary
Magdalene is alone in the garden once again – or so she thinks.
Even after all
this time, the shock and the overflowing joy when Mary hears her name and
realizes it’s not a gardener calling to her but it’s Jesus – the shock
and the overflowing joy still jump off the page:
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
And, I would say,
not a moment too soon!
Not a moment too
soon for Mary Magdalene – and not a moment too soon for us.
We had a beautiful
Lent here, with lots of wonderful and prayerful services, a diaper drive (which
at last count is not quite complete, by the way), and an excellent book study.
We spent time
getting ready to welcome homeless guests as part of Family Promise.
We stood and
marched in solidarity with victims of gun violence.
And, on Good Friday,
once again we carried the cross through the streets of Jersey City, visiting
and praying at sites right in our own neighborhoods that have been stained by
senseless violence, in some sense making those places holy again.
We had a beautiful
Lent as our two congregations, St. Paul’s and Incarnation, have settled into
our new life together, not without bumps and challenges, but, for the most part
with a loving, generous, and patient spirit.
Yes, we had a
beautiful Lent, but out in the world, not so much.
Even the weather
in these parts has been a downer.
You may remember
we had an early false spring, probably not something to be happy about, but,
let’s admit it, it was such a pleasure to feel the warmer air and to see the
trees bud and the flowers begin to bloom.
Here at St.
Paul’s, we have lots of daffodils which add so much beauty to our grounds – and
which bloomed early thanks to that premature spring.
A couple of weeks
ago I took a photo of a cluster of those daffodils, knowing that one of our
Nor’easters was going to blow through in just a few hours.
As the wet snow
fell I went back out and took a picture of those same flowers (that’s how I
make myself useful around here!) but this time they were bent, and I feared
broken, under the weight of all that heavy snow.
That grim before
and after makes me think of Mary Magdalene and the other disciples who had
bloomed thanks to the hope and love of Jesus, only to be bent low by his death
on the cross.
But, you know, if
you look outside today, you’ll see that those little yellow daffodils survived
that snowfall and are standing upright, bringing beauty to our Easter Day – not
unlike Mary Magdalene, who was once bent with grief and suffering, but after hearing
and seeing the Risen Lord, she was overjoyed, upright with new life.
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
And, rather than
keeping this best news of all time to herself, Mary Magdalene rushes to tell the
others, rushes to tell them:
“I have seen the
Lord!”
And, this morning here
in church, here in this beautiful old place, we are seeing and hearing
the Risen Lord in the Word of God, in our beautiful diversity, in the gorgeous
music, in the peace that we will soon share with one another, and, most of all,
in the Bread and Wine that we will take into our bodies and souls.
And, we are also seeing
the Risen Lord in these three beautiful children – in Rosabelle, Noah, and Andrew.
In just a few moments they will take the plunge into the water of Baptism,
dying and rising again as beloved members of the Body of Christ.
Their parents have
boldly signed them up for the Christian life – a life with great rewards but
also big challenges and high expectations – to love our neighbors, all of them,
especially the ones we don’t like or disagree with, even the people who disgust
us, to love them all as ourselves – to share the Good News in word and
deed – to join with Mary Magdalene and so many others who have proclaimed,
“I have seen the
Lord!”
And, I would say,
not a moment too soon.
Although the
weather has improved and, at least for today, the daffodils are standing
upright sharing their beauty with us, the sad truth is that so many people
around us are still bent with grief and suffering and fear – so many people are
bent by the pressures of life, bent by anger and hopelessness and hatred and
violence.
At the end of our
Good Friday Stations of the Cross, at the last station which was our local
police precinct, our prayers were interrupted when suddenly there was angry
yelling as a group of people arrived, a family maybe, furious about an assault
that had allegedly happened, and looking for justice from the police.
The language was
rough and the commotion was disturbing and even a little frightening.
But, as the one
cop who had been protecting us tried to sort it out and attempted with not much
success to quiet them down, I thought, you know, this uproar was a perfect end
for our Good Friday – because this was a glimpse of the broken world for which
Jesus suffered and died and for which he rose again.
So, just like Mary
Magdalene rushed to the the grieving and frightened disciples - and not a
moment too soon - we are called to go out from this beautiful place into our
often ugly world, out to all the people bent by suffering and sorrow.
We are called to
go out, proclaiming through our words and very lives:
“I have seen the
Lord!”
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Amen.
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