The Church of St.
Paul and Incarnation, Jersey City NJ
April 12, 2020
Year A: Easter Day
Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Colossians 3:1-4
John 20:1-18
Like the First Easter
Alleluia!
Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
After
what was the lentiest Lent ever, after gathering around the table with Jesus
for what everybody thought was the last time, after the bread and the wine and
the washed feet, after the horror of the Cross and the heartbreaking quiet of
the sealed tomb, at last, at last we are back in the garden with Mary
Magdalene.
We’re
back in the garden with Mary Magdalene, who is horrified to discover the empty
tomb – is this nightmare about to get even worse?
Mary
Magdalene begs the gardener for help, barely able to hope that she might
recover the body of her dead friend and Lord.
But
then, in a moment that still shines, still makes our hearts burst no matter how
well we know the story, Mary hears her name, hears that familiar voice, and she
sees, and she knows…
Alleluia!
Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Normally
at this point in my Easter sermon, I talk about how beautiful the church looks,
how great you all look, how wonderful the music sounds.
I
thank all of the people who worked so hard to clean and polish, everybody who
decorated and rehearsed, all to make our Easter celebration so special.
I
do want to thank the two Susans – our parish administrator Susan Den Herder who
quickly assembled and mailed out the bulletin that many of you have been using
the past few days – and my wife Susan Suarez who has been doing double duty as
our worship leader and technical support, making it possible for all of you to
join us for worship since quarantine began.
We’ve
done our best to keep the church going, but still, I don’t need to tell you
that this Easter is unlike any we have ever experienced.
The
pandemic and the stay at home order has stripped our Easter of all the familiar
touches that most of us love so much – the flowers, the music, the outfits, the
hats (!), the chance to see people we may not have seen for a while – we have
been forced to sacrifice all of that, leaving us with just the basics.
As
I’ve been preparing for this day, I’ve realized that, with so many of our
Easter traditions gone, this Easter is the one that is most like the first
Easter.
Like Mary
Magdalene, we arrived here this morning still shadowed by the all too real
sadness of the world, dragged down by all that sounds like it must be the last
word.
But,
like Mary Magdalene, we are here – here maybe out of a sense of duty or habit –
or maybe we’re here because even in the face of suffering and death we refuse
to give up hope – so we return to the garden and, sure enough, we discover
that, yes…
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Our Easter today
is most like the first Easter because, for Mary Magdalene and soon the other
disciples, there was no elaborate ritual, no fancy outfits, and no triumphant
fanfares.
And, just like
Mary Magdalene and the others, we don’t have a clear vision of the future and
maybe we don’t know exactly what it means for us and our sick world that Jesus,
still bearing his wounds, is risen from the dead.
But, just like
Mary Magdalene and the others, we are just beginning to understand that God is
teaching us the greatest lesson of all: light has shined into the deepest
shadows, love has conquered hate, and life has defeated death, once and for
all.
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
It is, of course,
no accident that the first Easter began in a garden.
After all, it’s in
a garden where the story of God and us began – the garden was God’s vision of
what life together with us was to be like – God gives us all the raw material
and all the skill we need, giving us the ability to plant and shape the world
in ways delightful for God and us.
And, it’s in a
garden where everything went wrong, and God and we seemed to part ways, but God
never stopped looking for us, never stopped hoping for reconciliation.
And, that reunion
happens when Mary Magdalene hears her name in a garden on that first Easter.
Now, I’m no
gardener but I’m fortunate to live here on the church grounds where a few
generous and talented people tend the flowers and plants, offering an oasis for
our community, one that is especially welcome these days when all of our parks
are closed.
For the past few
weeks, we’ve all been so focused on disease – on avoiding disease – on figuring
out how to get by in this new way of living - that we may have missed that
spring is springing up all around us, our gardens are blooming, our planet is
bursting forth with new life.
Here in our garden
we’ve had a bumper crop of daffodils and the tulips are just beginning to
unfurl.
But, I’ve had my
eye on one of the two dogwood trees alongside the church.
It didn’t have a
good year last year and our friend and neighbor Nana Chawana pruned it, fed it,
tended to it as best she could, but she was not optimistic about its chances
for survival.
I kept thinking we
should just chop it down already and be done with it but we’ve had a lot of
other buildings and grounds stuff to deal with and, honestly, I just didn’t
have the heart to say goodbye to this tree that has given so much beauty, so
much pleasure for so long.
Well, in just the
past few days, that old, bent and scarred dogwood has begun to bud, just about
ready to surprise everybody with new life.
I don’t know what
the future will bring for that tree or for any of us.
All I know is
that, despite all our confusion, despite all our fears, in the garden there is
the surprise and joy of new life – just like on the first Easter!
Alleluia! Christ
is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Amen.
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