Easter Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia! The ancient greeting rings out with a truth first described as an idle tale! How about that? The women come back from the tomb of their beloved Jesus telling the disciples about the empty tomb and the angels and the message of Jesus being raised for the dead and the disciples dismissed it as an idle tale. As though the women thought the disciples were being a bit too gloomy and thought they’d perk them up a bit with a resurrection story. Peter goes to verify and him they believe. Somehow the women who stood by Jesus the whole time were making things up, but Peter who denied him was credible. Now that’s an idle tale.

The details of the resurrection the women spoke of are vague and lost in the mist of time and layered story. But something happened. Something so profound as to propel the disciples, not to return to their former lives, but to turn to a lives of missionaries to proclaim the resurrected Jesus. Lives that often led to deprivation, ridicule, persecution and martyrdom. People don’t do that for an “idle tale.” They do that because of some truth that has deeply transformed them. They do that because their lives have so profoundly changed that there was no going back.

In the first lesson we read this morning from Isaiah, we hear the author in the voice of God saying, “..I am about to create a new heaven and a new earth; the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. But be glad and rejoice forever in what I am creating...” People of faith have always believed in God’s ability to create something new from something old. Order out of chaos. And even life out of death. Over and over again, the stories differ in the details and times, but the essential similarity is the triumph of life over death. The victory of truth and justice over that which is evil and self seeking. There has always been a belief in resurrection.

The story of Jesus’ resurrection is so compelling because it is a victory over death itself. Prior to that, most resurrections had to do with health or life’s circumstances, not life itself. What made Jesus so miraculous is that God’s action created something new. A new heaven and a new earth.

I believe in resurrection. I believe in Jesus’ resurrection and I believe in my resurrection and I believe in your resurrection. I believe in the resurrection of Haiti and Iraq. I believe in the resurrection of people and places where life is in danger or lost. Because I believe that resurrection is life itself and that life doesn’t end, it transforms.

The disciples become interesting case studies for me. They had pretty decent lives before Jesus showed up. Steady jobs, families, they pretty much knew their way around and probably felt relatively secure and comfortable in their lives. Jesus shows up and turns everything upside down. They hit the road, have a little hint of glamour and fame, but that ends badly with an arrest and Jesus’ execution.

But in the midst of all this, they got a taste of a deeper life they didn’t see or know about before and they couldn’t pretend it didn’t exist. They saw and felt the love of God in a powerful way they could no longer live without. They chose a more difficult life, physically, in most of their cases, but we have to assume that the serenity they had in their spirits was worth the price. What an amazing depth of knowing God that would lead them to live the lives they led. For as vague as the details of the Gospels can be about the resurrection, the lives of the disciples who continued to follow Jesus after his resurrection are testimonies not only to Jesus’ resurrection, but their own.

I have experienced resurrection myself through new life that has risen from the ashes of divorce, addiction and the deaths of loved ones. I have seen the resurrection of so many others whose faith in God and the promise of resurrection has changed their lives, especially when they thought it was over. There is a living death that occurs in so many ways, that each of us can testify to. And I’ll bet that without much prompting, many of those stories of living deaths can also be understood to contain the seed of resurrection. And these are not idle tales. They are real.

I’ve seen people in the throes of addiction, what I often call the living dead, who have found new life through recovery. I’ve seen sections of towns and cities come back through the efforts of hard working activists, organizers and regular people on the street. I’ve seen people who faced the deaths of spouses or partners with faith that their lives would continue and did.

I’d like to tell you a particular story of resurrection that I saw last year. While I was on sabbatical last year, the first leg of the trip was to the Holy Cross Monastery in Grahamstown, South Africa. During the month I was there I got to know the small community of brothers pretty well. One of the brothers, Josias, told some of his personal story in a Lenten sermon he preached while I was there. He took for his text Psalm 22 that begins, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me..” It’s a very important psalm since Jesus quotes it from the cross. It’s verses describe the desolation of the speaker and how beaten down he is. The verse Josias focused on was the 6th verse that says, “but as for me I am a worm and no man...”

He stopped there and told a little of his story as a black man born in Johannesburg during the last days of Apartheid. The struggles and tensions in those final days of that evil system, the danger and the temptation to be beaten down by it. His lips trembled with emotion as he told of the assaults on his humanity and how often he was treated like a worm and no man.

He told of his early conviction in his faith and how the love of God in Jesus pulled him out of despair and gave him new life. This shy, soft spoken, sweet young man riveted the congregation when he looked up from his sermon text and declared in full voice, “I am a man, and no worm.”

Resurrection is claiming life from that which appears dead. Josias spoke for all of us in the life circumstances that make us feel “less than”. In God’s love we are people and not worms. We are worthy enough for God to have been incarnated in the life of Jesus, to have given us miracles and healing. To have taught us and shown us the love of God. To have died for us and risen, as proof that life does not end. It changes and deepens, but it does not end.

In truth some people still call stories of resurrection “idle tales”. They are not. Once you’ve seen them or lived them, you can’t deny them. They are wonderful stories of hope and love, and they are worth telling, despite what anyone else thinks.

From the psalm today, verse 24 speaks for us - On this day the Lord has acted, we will rejoice and be glad in it!” Amen.

©2010 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ

Easter Sunday: It's Not Too Late (Video)

By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven, Sabbatical Priest

(This sermon is also available in text.)

This video is in two parts.





© 2009 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

Easter Sunday: It's Not Too Late (Text)

By The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven, Sabbatical Priest

(This sermon is also available in video.)

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.” May I speak in the name of the Crucified and Risen Christ who leads us from darkness into his glorious light.” Amen.

Mary Magdalene. Mary Magdalene appears in virtually every story of our Lord’s resurrection, her name usually first among the women. She had been possessed by seven demons and Jesus had freed her. Seven. It was the number of completion either of perfection or of evil. To say that Mary had been possessed by seven demons is to say that she had been one very sick woman—beyond hope, beyond repair—a terror to herself and to her neighbors. I say this because we see the saints of God in stained glass and we forget the journey that they took to be where they are. Jesus had put her in her right mind, had freed her from the tomb of psychosis, depression and despair from which she could not escape. She was utterly devoted to him. By every account she was last at the cross and first at the grave. It wasn’t faith that led her there. It was love, love that could no more run away from him than he had run from her, he who had called her name: Mary, and led her into the light.

She had come, she didn’t know why, to anoint him to wrap him in spices as she’d wrapped him in love though what she could add to the 100 pounds of spices Nicodemus had already wrapped him in was difficult to say. Even for this it was too late. Still she came. She couldn’t keep away. She’d come while it was still dark—when the only people out were people you wouldn’t want to meet. The Passover had seemed interminable. She was impatient to be near him. How she thought she’d move the stone was anybody’s guess—a large disk rolled edgewise into place in a gutter at the mouth of the cave where Jesus lay. Her mind was on heavier matters: like how she was going to live without him.

The disciples had fled but she’d been there for the hammers and the nails and the blood. She was there when they crucified her Lord, was there when they laid him in the tomb. She was under no delusions as to what she would find there a face—that Face—marred beyond human semblance. The One who spoke and demons fled—her demons. The One who touched and lives were made whole. With him no storm was so big he couldn’t still it, no crowd so great that in his hands 5 loaves and 2 fish couldn’t feed it. Now it was all over. He was gone. Who would roll away the stone in her heart? That was the question—the lump in her throat? How was she going to live?

She arrives at the tomb to find it open. And expecting it about as much as we’d expect the open grave of our loved one only buried two days before she greets it with unmitigated horror. Oh NO!! Not this! More desecration! More violence! Someone has stolen him! She takes off running and returns running with Peter and the beloved disciple alongside. Peter goes into the tomb to find the linen wrapping lying there “still in its folds” says the Greek, as if he’d dematerialized out of them. His body is gone. The disciple “whom Jesus loved” goes in, too. We’re told he “saw and believed” but it could only have been but a glimmer of belief because we’re also told that they did not yet “understand the scripture that he must rise from the dead.” In any case, after all this urgent running we’re told simply that the men “go home.” Rather astonishing, but there it is.

Mary remains weeping at the tomb unable to leave the last place she saw him. Now she bends to look into the tomb but instead of linens lying there she sees is two angels where none were seen before. “Woman, why are you weeping?” They are angels but she seems strangely unaware of that. She is looking for her Lord—the one who made the lame walk and the wounded whole: “They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him.” She turns to see a man in the garden whom she presumes to be the gardener. “Woman,” he asks, “why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” She is looking for her Lord—the one who made the deaf hear and the blind see: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will [come get him].”

He says her name: “Mary” and at the sound of it she turns. It’s an inner turning, a reorientation of mind. She’s already facing him. She is suddenly, in her right mind. He’s done it again! Suddenly astonished, she recognizes him: “Rabbouni!” Teacher! And she goes to lay hold of him. Jesus is risen and standing in front of her. She wants to lay hold of him. She wants to return to the way things were before. What else would she know? What else do we know? We are often looking behind us at the way it was before. “Do not cling to me. I have not yet ascended to the Father.” Once he does ascend we can cling all we like. God’s story moves forwards not backwards, always forward. “Go tell my brothers I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” The risen Christ sends Mary to proclaim the good news of Jesus’ resurrection to the disciples. She is the apostle to the apostles—talk about astonishing—women couldn’t even be witnesses in a court of law and Jesus entrusts her with the most important testimony of all time: I have seen the Lord!

I love the way this story is told. Mary Magdalene doesn’t recognize Jesus but he’s standing right there in front of her, right there! This is extraordinarily good news for you and me. Just because we are unaware doesn’t mean Jesus is not standing right there, right there in front of us. We think: it’s too late. It’s too late! We can’t see past the reason it’s too late. We can’t see past our tears, our shattered hopes our broken hearts. Easter tells us we have a God who doesn’t know the meaning of the words: too late, whose greatest work was done in and through the crucifixion not before it.

We’re weeping. We’re weeping at the door of the tomb…but he’s not in there…. Angels address us, messengers of God, messengers of grace and truth but we don’t hear them, not really. We don’t really know who sent them. Jesus meets us but we think he’s the gardener, our colleague, our partner, our little brother. We are lost in our grief, lost in ourselves. We’ve lost our bearings. We’re out of our minds. The mystery of the resurrection is all around us…talking to us, trying to reach us, asking us why we weep. What a lovely thing! God notices and cares that we are weeping. “Woman, why are you weeping?” ask the angels. “Woman, why are you weeping?” asked Jesus, “Whom do you seek?” “They have taken away my Lord and I don’t know where they have laid him.” They have taken away my life, my future, my hope and I do not know where to find it again.

It’s not too late. Whatever we’ve done or left undone. Whatever has happened to you and me: illness, divorce, the death of a loved one: It’s not too late. Someone may have stolen your childhood through abuse, neglect or simple misunderstanding but God’s got your future. That’s the message of Easter. That is the message. So don’t be afraid. Go to the tomb. Go to the last place you saw him. Go to the place where hope died, where faith was extinguished. Jesus is there. Unexpectedly. Impossibly. Jesus is there with angels of comfort and mercy asking why you weep and calling you by name, your name: your name, my name, a name we hear without guilt, without shame—in our right mind—a name formed in the mouth of God, a name formed in the heart of God, calling us until we recognize him, until we recognize ourselves, until we cry out with Mary: I have seen the Lord!

My Friends, it’s not too late. It is never too late.

Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed, alleluia!
Thanks be to God.

© 2009 The Rev. Anne Bolles-Beaven

Easter Sunday

By The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Welcome Festival Day, the Easter hymn begins. And it is a welcome day. Wonderfully decorated, polished wood, beautifully arranged flowers, special music. And all of you, welcome. We come from all over, regular members, visiting neighbors and out of town guests. We are drawn to this wonderful day to touch the majesty and mystery of the day of Resurrection. No matter where we're from, it's important through our preparations to have a tangible expression of welcome to this ancient wonder made new through our celebration and worship.

Two thousand years ago, in the quiet of the morning, before anyone was awake, a man who had been killed brutally sat up and walked again. Legends would grow about what happened between the declaration of death on the cross and the discovery of the empty tomb. Wonderful tales of the victorious Christ marching through the gates of hell, destroying those gates and releasing the faithful captured by the power of destructive and hopeless death.

Other tales are of the rest, the Sabbath rest of the Messiah preparing for the next phase of his ministry. After Creation in the beginning, God rested. After the re-creation of the faithful, God rested again. No one saw him rise or leave the tomb, the witnesses arrived after sun up and found the tomb empty. In Luke's telling of the story, two men in dazzling clothes appeared and told them Jesus had risen. Tell the others, they were told.

Heads swirling with all this strange information, the women went back to tell the disciples of Jesus what they found. Luke tells us the disciples dismissed this as an "idle tale." I've always found that description to be very peculiar. An "idle tale" as though the women were in need of some mischievous fun and thought they would fool the disciples with a prank.

If there are any who have earned the right of credibility, it is these very same women who stood with Jesus at the most difficult of times. There was nothing mischievous or silly about their behavior that would have warranted such a frivolous dismissal. Perhaps it was just that the story was more than any of them could hope for and overwhelmed them into this denial. The implications of this story are immense, if it was actually.

Is it true? What do you think? You're here, aren't you? Did you come to listen to a two thousand year old "idle tale"? Is the truth of it so overwhelming as to be dismissed or denied? Is the ministry it draws us into also welcome? Because it most certainly does draw us in. God's resurrection is very tangible proof that death is not final, that hope survives even the most brutal of realities. Resurrection is love in action, it's love triumphant and justifies the truth of mercy and forgiveness as a way of life and a meaning of life.

We are drawn here, I believe, because the truth of God's love and the promise of it's power is so strong and alluring that still after all these years we are drawn to its irresistible, welcoming beckon. All of us in so many ways have borne the heat of the day. Along with the joy and promises of life, we've had our shares of pain, betrayals, mistakes and pitfalls. We've known temptation and given in, we've caused and received pain, we've aimed high -- and sometimes succeeded and sometimes failed, we've gambled -- sometimes won and sometimes lost. The pain of some realities is certainly offset to a large degree by successes we've accumulated, but it's my experience that no matter what gains we've made the pain of the past has a life of its own that lurks beneath the surface of our spirits and undermines the worthiness we feel or the confidence we need to move forward.

The pain becomes spiritual and chronic. You know, I hear confessions all the time. In the old days we had special booths for that. Scary dark places that actually served a purpose in creating an environment reflective of where the secrets lurk in our souls and psyche, but we don't like those any more and we've changed our confessional formats. They can happen in my office on soft, comfortable chairs with a cup of coffee. Sometimes in restaurants over a nice lunch. Even sometimes at a party or other social occasion, there will be a simple question, "So what do you do?" Since I can't lie, I'll say I'm a priest and bam! I'll hear a confession. It usually starts out with the words, "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual..." I used to cringe at that. I don't anymore. I see it as another opportunity to talk about things I like talking about. But the conversation will usually go one of two ways. Either there will all of a sudden be nervous fidgeting and the empty glass they're holding will need a refill, or a conversation will open up about some of the pain the person endured or caused and how that became an obstacle to finding a faith community to worship in.

In truth the church universal has done some wonderful things, brought ministry and hope to many. But in truth it has also been negligent or compliant with wrong-doing at the very least and aggressively abusive at most during it's history. There are a lot of amends to make and credibility to restore. If there is something in what I just said that you can resonate with, then listen closely to what I'm about to say. On behalf of the church or clergy which hurt or abused you, I'm sorry. I ask your forgiveness.

Forgiveness begins healing. Healing makes one strong and restores hope and the ability to love again. The church has, and in many places and ways continues to hurt the poor and helpless, women, children, people of color, gay and lesbian people, the weak. The church offends and becomes an obstacle to the faith of those same people who begin to dismiss the tale of the resurrected Jesus as an idle tale, since it's not lived out by the very people who preach it.

And yet, the power of forgiveness and reconciliation is strong medicine for any person of faith. The Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa serves a powerful witness of the importance of public apology and acknowledgment of sin and abuse by one person to another, or one people against another. But I warn you, there is a price tag to seeking the apology of another, whether it's another person or a people as a whole. And that price tag is the commitment to find those you've harmed and apologize to them.

None of us can be the recipients of a grace we will not offer when called to do so. Jesus forgave the very people who brutally murdered him unjustly as he hung from the cross. He would not let the poison of anger or bitterness infect his soul and forgiveness was the healing remedy for that. He demonstrated for us the restorative power of forgiveness, and calls us to forgive the sins of others as we have been forgiven.

This day is so very important because it reminds us again of the life giving love of God. A love that cannot be destroyed or corrupted. A love that will rise when beaten down and live when killed. A love that forgives wrong and heals the broken.

We are all spiritual because we all have spirits. Our spirits are active and involved with the other spirits around us. This can be for good or ill, but it is most assuredly constant. Our religiosity is a function of our finding a faith community to share the growth of that spirit. Growth requires intention and thought, prayer and openness. It requires the ability to forgive and ask for forgiveness. It requires the courage to state beliefs out loud to someone else. To proclaim, not like a battering ram or as a litmus test for political acceptability, but as a statement of the heart and spirit of how God's love is known, heard and lived. It is not an idle tale. It is an invitation to life itself. It is a spiritual necessity.

Welcome Festival Day. Find in us the desire to greet you, embrace you and love you. Find in us the courage to walk into a world of uncertainty, certain of your love. Find in us the conviction to fight for justice, when injustice shakes us. And if you cannot find it there, in the power of the resurrection of Jesus, put it there.

Come, Festival Day, blessed Day that art hallowed forever! Amen.

© 2007 St. George's Episcopal Church, Maplewood, NJ