Easter Sunday

April 4, 2010

Luke 24.1-12


+ Alleluia! Christ is risen
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Now I know most of you might expect me, as your priest, to be doing very devout holy and Godly things during Holy Week—like fasting and pondering Our Lord’s journey to the Cross (which I did do this week). But the other night I also went out with some friends—probably not a very priestly thing to be doing during Holy Week. Some of these friends were church musicians who understood keenly what Holy Week is like and how it is truly is a long and sometimes very difficult week for those of us who work in the church.

At some point, in a moment of cynicism, I lamented : “Jesus only hung on the cross for three hours but Holy Week last SO long!”

Afterward, I regretted that comment. I realized I was missing the point of Holy Week and, more importantly, I realized how easy it was of me to allow that creeping, nagging cynicism that is sometimes a part of my nature to creep in. Cynicism is a battle to fight, let me tell you. It is so easy for me to fall into it, to make snarky comments about a situation—even a holy situation, like Holy Week. And if I let my cynicism win out, this Day that we celebrating today—this glorious and wonderful Easter Day—would not mean as much as it does to me. If I let my cynicism win out, this day becomes a cartoonish kind of day for me. If I gave into my cynical side, this day becomes so distant and abstract from my life that I can no longer relate to the beauty of it. It becomes a caricature of my faith and my hope and soon my faith and my hope would simply shrivel and die.

Let’s face it, Easter does, at first glance, or without much thinking, have the feel of a fairy tale or a fable. We are often warned—perhaps cynically, though perhaps not—that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is—whatever “it” might be. Easter, to the cynic, seems just like that. Easter sounds entirely too good to be true. It is almost Pollyannaish. Everything bad—everything horrible—everything terrible—has been made right. Betrayal has turned into forgiveness. Defeat has turned into victory. The downtrodden have been raised up. Death has turned into life.

It’s so easy for me to be skeptical, especially after seeing my own share of ugliness in this world. It’s so easy to say to myself: How could something this wonderful happen? But then, on a morning like this, when we have gone through all that we have gone through liturgically and spiritually these last three days—Maundy Thursday with its last supper, its agony in the garden, its betrayal; Good Friday with its torture and murder of Jesus; Holy Saturday with Jesus lying dead in the tomb—here we are. We are, after all that darkness, in this moment of blinding bright light. We are here, celebrating this morning after three days of agony and death. We are exulting in this gloriousness, and as we do, it really does seem too good to be true.

But here, in this wonderful moment, skepticism has died. Doubt has dissipated like a cloud. And there is, in this one shining moment, a crystal clarity. Everything negative has been turned to a positive. Death has been conquered by life. What we have feared most has been destroyed.

In this moment, when our faith is renewed, it truly does seem like a reality and not an abstract philosophical or mythical or make-believe occurrence. What Easter is all about is that—right now—in this glorious wonderful, beautiful moment—we are alive. We are alive and breathing and we have been given hope to continue on being alive. And, in addition to all of this, we are so acutely made aware of one other amazing fact: our God is alive. Our God is alive and active in our lives. Our God wants us to experience and have all of this Easter joy in our lives.

And this day promises us that this moment of aliveness we are experiencing now does not have to end. This moment of joyous life we are experiencing this morning is being promised to us, without end. The eternity promised to us in Jesus is that this Easter joy—this renewed and living joy—this joy that, even now still seems so new and so fresh—is promised to us for all eternity and that it will always feel new and fresh.

Too good to be true? It sure seems like it. Pollyannaish? Yes, it really seems that way. But that’s the way God is. It IS too good to be true, but would God do less for us? God, who can do anything—as we’ve seen in the Life, Death and Resurrection of Jesus—would only provide us with something that would seem too good to be true.

Last Sunday in my sermon I said that the reason Holy Week is so difficult for us is that, when we experience the betrayal, torture and death of Jesus, what we are really experiencing is our own betrayal, torture and death. During this past week, we found ourselves looking at the events of Jesus life sort of like looking into a mirror. We saw ourselves in that story. We saw ourselves betrayed, and tortured and left for dead. And that is hard. It is something none of us want to imagine for ourselves or for our loved ones.

But, as I also said last week, today also is about us as well. Today—this Easter Day—we are still looking in that mirror. Today, when we look at the Risen Jesus, a Jesus who just days before was beaten and destroyed, we see ourselves in true victory over pain and death. We see ourselves resurrected as well. We see ourselves as truly alive in ways we never knew we could be alive. And that, more than anything else, is what Easter is all about. It is about claiming this glorious Resurrection for ourselves by following Jesus where ever he goes.

Yes, following Jesus means following him along that winding road to the hill of execution, a cross laid on our ravaged backs. Yes, following Jesus means following him to the tomb—to that cold, dark place none of us want to go. But following Jesus also means that, if we are truly following him, we know he will lead us through those ugly and dark moments to this moment.

To this Easter moment, filled with light and life and joy. This is what following Jesus means.

Here we are. It is Easter morning. And we are alive, with Jesus, in this glorious moment of light and peace and glory. In this glorious moment—in this moment of almost inexpressible happiness and joy—in this moment when our cynicism lies shattered at our feet and our memories of a long arduous week of pain and suffering are behind us—what more can we say in this perfect moment except those words that comes bubbling up from within us:

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.