April 12, 2009
John 20.1-18
Today marks an anniversary many people don’t think about anymore. 48 years ago today the first human being went into space. That man—Yuri Gagarin—went into space on April 12, 1961. Now Gagarin, as most us of know, was Russian. A Communist. An atheist. The first words attributed to humankind in space came from him and they were not words of awe, or praise or joy. The first words from a human in space were:
“I see no God up here!”
And let’s face it—he didn’t. He didn’t see God there or anywhere. Because it’s easy to look up into the sky and say, we see no God. It’s easy to say there’s no God. It is easy to say that we live in some random existence—without purpose or meaning.
Today—Easter Sunday—we are faced with something just as formidable as belief in God. We are faced with something just as difficult to believe in sometimes as God. We are faced with a mystery that is just as difficult to wrap our minds around as the mystery of God.
I am, of course, speaking the Resurrection. I am speaking of that moment—that moment when everything changed—when Jesus, broken and battered and murdered, rose up from the tomb. The Jesus who appears to us on this Easter morning is not a ghost. He is not a figment of our imagination. He is not an illusion. And this story isn’t a fairy tale.
Every so often, someone will come up to me and ask that age-old question: “Do you really believe in the Resurrection? Do really you believe that Jesus rose again from the grave?” And my answer is always this: “Why not?” Why couldn’t God do this? If we look long and hard at what happened on that Easter morning, we realize that what happened there was more than some vague experience for some ancient people. What happened on that morning changed everything. Everything since that point has been broken open for us. Our old fear of death and dying is gone. Because now we know that what we once held to be a mystery, is no longer a mystery. What happens to us when we die? We know now, because Someone has been there already. Someone has gone there and by going there has defeated death. What seemed to be the end—the bleak and horrible end on that previous Friday afternoon—has been broken apart. And what we are faced with is life. Life that never ends.
Now, when people ask me if I believe in the Resurrection, I say that I do, but I usually leave it there. Anything beyond my belief that it happened—and that it will happen for us—is beyond me. I don’t understand it fully. I still find bits and pieces of it being revealed to me. I find on bad days or skeptical days that I’m, not certain I believe in it. And to be brutally honest, the idea of unending life doesn’t always appeal to me. But what I have discovered is that, mostly, I find one deep, strong emotion coming forth in me when I ponder the Resurrection.
That emotion is: joy. In our Gospel reading for today, we find joy. Joy comes to Mary Magdalene when she realizes that it is Jesus, resurrected, standing before her. We can almost feel that joy emanating from her as she proclaims to the others: “I have seen the Lord.”
Joy is an emotion we seem to overlook. We think, maybe of joy as some kind of warm, fuzzy feeling. But joy is more than just feeling warm and fuzzy. Joy is a confident emotion. It is an emotion we can’t manufacture. We can’t make joy happen within us. Joy comes to us and comes upon us and bubbles up within us. Joy happens when everything comes together and we know that all is good.
This morning we are feeling joy over the Resurrection—over the fact that today we celebrate the destruction of everlasting death. We also celebrate today the joy of new life. And we are joyful over a life renewed in baptism.
Today Samantha Joy Lemke is going to be baptized. This morning she too will be washed in the waters of baptism. In her baptism, on this wonderful day, we get to see a glimpse of that glorious life that waits all of us. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” to the glory that awaits us. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” to the Resurrection. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” and affirming this joy that we have within us on this morning. Those of us who have already been baptized get to share in this joy too, when we renew our own baptismal vows and, maybe, for a moment, ponder and think about our own baptisms and all that it has been given us in our baptisms, whether we are fully aware of it or not.
I am happy that Sam has chosen this day to be baptized. I hope, Sam, that you will always remember this day with a true joy. This is what Easter is all about.
I guess that’s maybe why Easter is, by far, my favorite feast day in the Church Year. Some of you have heard me say in the past what amounts to almost sacrilege to some of you: I don’t care for Christmas. Christmas is not one of my favorite times of the year. I enjoy the beauty of how the Church prepares for Christmas, with its season of Advent, and I enjoy such things as Christmas Eve Mass, but for the most part, Christmas, personally and spiritually doesn’t do much for me. Easter, however, is the epitome for me. This is what it’s all about to be a Christian. If anyone asks me what I love most about being a Christians, I almost always answer: Easter!
By Easter, I don’t mean bunnies and Easter eggs. I don’t mean that I particular care for any of those fluffy, bright things we celebrate on this day, though I do think it’s sweet. What I talk about when I talk about Easter is that fact that today is truly the embodiment of the joy we should all feel as Christians.
Today is a day of true joy. Today, we are all filled with joy at the resurrection and our baptism into that resurrection. This is a joy that sustains us and lifts us up when we need lifting up. It is a joy that causes us to see what others cannot see.
While Gagarin went into space and saw no God, we realize we don’t need to see God out there—floating around like one of us. God dwells with us. God dwells within us. And to see God, all we have to do is look around and see God in the faces of those around us.
Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Gagarin, though. Recently a revelation was made by a friend of Gagarin, who said that Gagarin actually never made the statement attributed to him. The first words from a human in space are actually unknown. And that Gagarin himself was, it’s suspected, secretly a Christian. Whether to not it’s true, I love those situations in which something we thought had been a certain way turned out to be the complete opposite. For over forty years, most of us believed that the first human in space was an atheist and that the first words he spoke from space where words disparaging God’s existence. But now, we know that it isn’t necessarily true. Now we know that the first person in space may have been a Christian—a Christian who was awed by space and whose faith in God was simply renewed by the experience.
That’s sort of like how Easter is. In what seems to be a bleak moment of defeat—Jesus has been betrayed, he’s been tortured and murdered, he seems not to be who his followers thought he was—suddenly it urns on us. Nothing seems like we thought it was. Christ is not only what his followers thought he was, but much more. He wasn’t defeated. In fact, even despite his betrayal, his torture, his murder, he arose, the ultimate victor.
He arose, and by his rising, he destroyed everything we feared the most. By rising, he destroyed death. By rising, he destroyed our fears of an uncertain future. By rising, he brought victory to all of our defeats and failures.
See, there is a reason for joy on this Easter morning. In fact, it is joy that dwells with us and among us as we gather here. Joy. So, on this Easter morning, don’t let this joy you feel at this moment be a fleeting emotion. Rather, let it live in you and grow in you. Let it provoke you and motivate you. Let it flow forth from you. And when you live into this joy—when you let this joy fully consume you—every day with be Easter day to you. Every day will be a day of resurrection. Every day will be a day of renewed life.
Alleluia! Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed!
John 20.1-18
Today marks an anniversary many people don’t think about anymore. 48 years ago today the first human being went into space. That man—Yuri Gagarin—went into space on April 12, 1961. Now Gagarin, as most us of know, was Russian. A Communist. An atheist. The first words attributed to humankind in space came from him and they were not words of awe, or praise or joy. The first words from a human in space were:
“I see no God up here!”
And let’s face it—he didn’t. He didn’t see God there or anywhere. Because it’s easy to look up into the sky and say, we see no God. It’s easy to say there’s no God. It is easy to say that we live in some random existence—without purpose or meaning.
Today—Easter Sunday—we are faced with something just as formidable as belief in God. We are faced with something just as difficult to believe in sometimes as God. We are faced with a mystery that is just as difficult to wrap our minds around as the mystery of God.
I am, of course, speaking the Resurrection. I am speaking of that moment—that moment when everything changed—when Jesus, broken and battered and murdered, rose up from the tomb. The Jesus who appears to us on this Easter morning is not a ghost. He is not a figment of our imagination. He is not an illusion. And this story isn’t a fairy tale.
Every so often, someone will come up to me and ask that age-old question: “Do you really believe in the Resurrection? Do really you believe that Jesus rose again from the grave?” And my answer is always this: “Why not?” Why couldn’t God do this? If we look long and hard at what happened on that Easter morning, we realize that what happened there was more than some vague experience for some ancient people. What happened on that morning changed everything. Everything since that point has been broken open for us. Our old fear of death and dying is gone. Because now we know that what we once held to be a mystery, is no longer a mystery. What happens to us when we die? We know now, because Someone has been there already. Someone has gone there and by going there has defeated death. What seemed to be the end—the bleak and horrible end on that previous Friday afternoon—has been broken apart. And what we are faced with is life. Life that never ends.
Now, when people ask me if I believe in the Resurrection, I say that I do, but I usually leave it there. Anything beyond my belief that it happened—and that it will happen for us—is beyond me. I don’t understand it fully. I still find bits and pieces of it being revealed to me. I find on bad days or skeptical days that I’m, not certain I believe in it. And to be brutally honest, the idea of unending life doesn’t always appeal to me. But what I have discovered is that, mostly, I find one deep, strong emotion coming forth in me when I ponder the Resurrection.
That emotion is: joy. In our Gospel reading for today, we find joy. Joy comes to Mary Magdalene when she realizes that it is Jesus, resurrected, standing before her. We can almost feel that joy emanating from her as she proclaims to the others: “I have seen the Lord.”
Joy is an emotion we seem to overlook. We think, maybe of joy as some kind of warm, fuzzy feeling. But joy is more than just feeling warm and fuzzy. Joy is a confident emotion. It is an emotion we can’t manufacture. We can’t make joy happen within us. Joy comes to us and comes upon us and bubbles up within us. Joy happens when everything comes together and we know that all is good.
This morning we are feeling joy over the Resurrection—over the fact that today we celebrate the destruction of everlasting death. We also celebrate today the joy of new life. And we are joyful over a life renewed in baptism.
Today Samantha Joy Lemke is going to be baptized. This morning she too will be washed in the waters of baptism. In her baptism, on this wonderful day, we get to see a glimpse of that glorious life that waits all of us. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” to the glory that awaits us. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” to the Resurrection. Baptism is a way of saying “yes” and affirming this joy that we have within us on this morning. Those of us who have already been baptized get to share in this joy too, when we renew our own baptismal vows and, maybe, for a moment, ponder and think about our own baptisms and all that it has been given us in our baptisms, whether we are fully aware of it or not.
I am happy that Sam has chosen this day to be baptized. I hope, Sam, that you will always remember this day with a true joy. This is what Easter is all about.
I guess that’s maybe why Easter is, by far, my favorite feast day in the Church Year. Some of you have heard me say in the past what amounts to almost sacrilege to some of you: I don’t care for Christmas. Christmas is not one of my favorite times of the year. I enjoy the beauty of how the Church prepares for Christmas, with its season of Advent, and I enjoy such things as Christmas Eve Mass, but for the most part, Christmas, personally and spiritually doesn’t do much for me. Easter, however, is the epitome for me. This is what it’s all about to be a Christian. If anyone asks me what I love most about being a Christians, I almost always answer: Easter!
By Easter, I don’t mean bunnies and Easter eggs. I don’t mean that I particular care for any of those fluffy, bright things we celebrate on this day, though I do think it’s sweet. What I talk about when I talk about Easter is that fact that today is truly the embodiment of the joy we should all feel as Christians.
Today is a day of true joy. Today, we are all filled with joy at the resurrection and our baptism into that resurrection. This is a joy that sustains us and lifts us up when we need lifting up. It is a joy that causes us to see what others cannot see.
While Gagarin went into space and saw no God, we realize we don’t need to see God out there—floating around like one of us. God dwells with us. God dwells within us. And to see God, all we have to do is look around and see God in the faces of those around us.
Maybe we shouldn’t be so hard on Gagarin, though. Recently a revelation was made by a friend of Gagarin, who said that Gagarin actually never made the statement attributed to him. The first words from a human in space are actually unknown. And that Gagarin himself was, it’s suspected, secretly a Christian. Whether to not it’s true, I love those situations in which something we thought had been a certain way turned out to be the complete opposite. For over forty years, most of us believed that the first human in space was an atheist and that the first words he spoke from space where words disparaging God’s existence. But now, we know that it isn’t necessarily true. Now we know that the first person in space may have been a Christian—a Christian who was awed by space and whose faith in God was simply renewed by the experience.
That’s sort of like how Easter is. In what seems to be a bleak moment of defeat—Jesus has been betrayed, he’s been tortured and murdered, he seems not to be who his followers thought he was—suddenly it urns on us. Nothing seems like we thought it was. Christ is not only what his followers thought he was, but much more. He wasn’t defeated. In fact, even despite his betrayal, his torture, his murder, he arose, the ultimate victor.
He arose, and by his rising, he destroyed everything we feared the most. By rising, he destroyed death. By rising, he destroyed our fears of an uncertain future. By rising, he brought victory to all of our defeats and failures.
See, there is a reason for joy on this Easter morning. In fact, it is joy that dwells with us and among us as we gather here. Joy. So, on this Easter morning, don’t let this joy you feel at this moment be a fleeting emotion. Rather, let it live in you and grow in you. Let it provoke you and motivate you. Let it flow forth from you. And when you live into this joy—when you let this joy fully consume you—every day with be Easter day to you. Every day will be a day of resurrection. Every day will be a day of renewed life.
Alleluia! Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed!
Alleluia!
1 comment:
I guess you see God in things like genital mutilation (or "circumcision" as you might like to call it euphemistically).
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