Preached at Grace and Canadochly on April 21, 2019
Preaching text: Luke's Easter
Like many of you, no doubt, I spent my Monday glued to the TV watching the horrible events playing out in Paris, France. Notre Dame, that icon of the French people, that wondrous place of worship, was being consumed in fire. It almost seemed apocalyptic, this great church which had stood for almost a thousand years was slowly being destroyed before our eyes.
Thankfully, it wasn’t quite that bad and the brave men and women who fought that blaze managed to put it out before the church was totally destroyed. Most of the priceless works of art and relics of the church that were stored there were rescued before the fire got too bad. The Rose Windows were saved in the nick of time. The great bells as well. All was not lost.
But when we were in the moment, none of that was certain. As we watched and waited, we wondered what would become of this great church. Would it survive or would it die?
That uncomfortable in-between feeling is precisely what the women were feeling that early Sunday morning so long ago. They had witnessed what they thought was impossible. The Messiah, God’s anointed, had been hung on a cross and made to die. Jesus had been crucified. Yes, there were those statements that he’d made about rising again from the dead, but after seeing what they’d seen, that couldn’t be true. The brutality, the viciousness of that death, no, he was gone.
We too know what that feeling is like, not just because we watched Notre Dame burn last Monday, but because we see it before us each and every time we come in these doors. We remember the days when these pews were filled, these walls echoes the sounds of laughing children, when the coffers were full, and all was right in the world. But then, what we thought was impossible began to happen. The Church began to die. And now, we see empty pews, silence instead of laughter because there are no more children (or very few), the coffers are empty, and nothing seems right in the world. And it’s not just here. It’s pretty much everywhere.
I talked before about how we’re in the midst of a society-wide existential crisis. We’ve lost our way. Suicides are at their peak. Drug overdoses as well. People don’t know what to do with themselves. We are stuck in those pre-dawn hours, thinking the world has come to an end, just as it had for those women.
But that’s what makes Easter so important.
If the women thought the crucifixion impossible, they were in for quite the surprise. A stone rolled away and a tomb empty. What? What has happened? A man in white declares both teasingly and boldly, “Why are you looking for the living among the dead? He is not here. He has risen.”
Impossible. That which is dead remains dead. We know this. It is inevitable, unavoidable, inescapable. Or is it?
Christ is risen. Is it really true? He is not here. The angel says what has happened. Can it really be? Can life come from death again?
Easter confronts us with that very question. Can life come from this again? Can life come from this world in chaos and turmoil? Can there be resurrection from what we experience in this world and this life?
And God answers with an empty tomb and an angel proclaiming “He is risen.”
This is the great challenge of our times, not so different than it was for those women and those disciples. An idle tale, Luke says it seemed to the Eleven. As we despair of our modern times, is the resurrection an idle tale to us? Easy for it to become so in the midst of the darkness and uncertainty of these times, but are we letting all that blind and deafen us to the truth that we have embraced since time immemorial? We are Christians. We came to this faith because we believe that God did resurrect Jesus, that life does come from death, that every cross leads to an empty tomb.
Paul reminds us in Romans, in a verse that we quote in each and every funeral in the Lutheran church, that “if we have been united in a death like his, we shall certainly be united in a resurrection like his.” Does this really change that? Or do God’s promises stand inviolate? Unwavering? Eternal?
My friends, we must not lose faith now. This world’s evil and uncertainty seem unstoppable, but we remember a God that brings life from death, forgiveness from sin, and salvation from Christ’s sacrifice. The world DOES NOT change that. Let us not be the women before they reach the tomb. Let us not be the disciples who dismiss their tale so quickly. Let us be them after they come to the tomb, empty of death, but full of hope. Let us be amazed at what God can do, for nothing with him is impossible. Not even this. Life from death. An empty tomb after a cross. Christ is risen. Alleluia. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment