Easter Sunday 2013

Sermon by Fr. Paul Holland

Tuesday, February 12. The last time we sang the alleluia in this place. But this morning,

throughout the world, alleluia fills the mouths of the faithful. With joy and confidence, God’s

people everywhere proclaim, anastasis christ is risen; anastasis, he is risen indeed.

And in just as many places, other voices—some bored, some desperate, some cynical—say, so

what?

What has a tomb, reputedly empty but impossible to prove, what has that to do with me, here and

now? Even if it proves Jesus rose from the dead, even if it proves Jesus is the son of God, how is

that important to my life, my attempts to make sense of the world, my struggles to make ends

meet and endure the tragedies of life and muster the courage to love and hope and carry on?

The fact that Jesus escaped the tomb won’t spare me from facing death, a thousand times over, as

I lose friends to the grave, and feel sickness and old age ravage my own body. Beyond curiosity

value, what difference does the empty tomb make to me?

And those questions arise, not just on the lips of unbelievers, but in our own lives. Like those

first disciples, many of us also are stunned or even skeptical about it all. Many of us still don’t

understand the scriptures, that He had to rise from the dead.

And yet, and yet, here we are, proclaiming that He is risen indeed; and more than that, here we

are, staking our lives on it, because his rising means that we also rise, that we also have already

begun to triumph over the power of sin and death.

And therein lies the scandal of Easter.

Many people note the scandal of Good Friday, that the Son of God should die on a cross.

But the scandal of Easter is the outrageous claim that we, the covenant breakers, we the false

friends, the deniers, the cowards, the betrayers, the crucifiers, we also will rise, and live by God’s

very life and spirit, God’s own people, holy as God is holy. A scandalous claim; a scandalous

story.

That story has been a continual exodus: out of chaos to creation; out of Ur to Canaan; out of

Egypt to the promised land;

Out of Bethlehem and Nazareth to Jerusalem and the garden, Golgatha and glory.

Our own part of the journey started with a few drops of water and a few words, the name of

Jesus and the name of god; and it became our own story, our own exodus, leading us ever deeper

into Christ’s Pascal Mystery.

Easter Sunday 2013

Sermon by Fr. Paul Holland

But not all of us have made it yet to the empty tomb. For some of us, it’s not Easter yet. Even

though Christ has brought us to the first day of a new week, for some, it’s still early, still dark.

The scandal, and promise, of Easter is that beyond the strictures of time and place, beyond the

limits imposed by our sin and death, the crucified and risen Jesus remains with us, to save us

wherever we are on the journey.

Maybe you haven’t yet really set out on the journey; despite a lifetime of bearing his name,

maybe for you Jesus is still obscure, unknown, only glimpsed during odd moments, not very

central to your life.

If so, pray this Easter that the Lord give you new eyes fixed on his presence dwelling with you;

so that you also can see and believe. Ask for new ears to listen for God’s gentle whisper, so that

you too can hear the Lord call you by name.

Beg for the opportunity to serve another in need, for by such service you will fulfill his

command, “Love one another as I have loved you.”

Or perhaps your journey has taken you to Christ’s passion, but no farther. Perhaps the crucified

Christ is no stranger to you, but you have seen little evidence of the risen Lord.

If so, pray this Easter for courage and faithfulness and trust.

If you are still in the garden with Christ, fearful and anxious, if you are still on the cross with

Christ, abandoned and betrayed, in physical pain and spiritual anguish, make Christ’s prayer

your own: “Father into your hands I commit my life.”

Or perhaps the shroud of depression and ennui binds you, immures you in a spiritual tomb.

Maybe you no longer bear the heat of suffering, because you have fled to the grave’s clammy

cold of despair and indifference.

Pray this Easter for the grace to trust that the one who is the way and the truth and the life will

say to you, as he said to his friend Lazarus, “come out;” and that he will say to your fellow

pilgrims gathered here, as he said to those first disciples, “take away the stone…unbind him and

set him free.”

And if the journey has led you to the risen Lord, rejoice and be glad, for this is the day the Lord

has made.

In your joy, pray this Easter for your brothers and sisters who do not yet know the Lord’s love;

then incarnate that love by working with them for the sake of justice and peace.

Easter Sunday 2013

Sermon by Fr. Paul Holland

Pray for the Good Friday people, those who still bear the marks of the passion; then wake with

them in the anxious night; stand by them in the day of trial; help them carry their cross of

affliction.

Pray for your brothers and sisters whose spirits have been wounded by despair, addiction,

cynicism or violence, and then create a community of care where it is safe enough for them to

abandon the cold comfort of the tomb and embrace anew the risky journey.

And with all of them, the hesitant, the suffering, the lost and the lonely, the sinner and the cynic,

and with one another, we sit together at this banquet of reconciliation which Jesus sets for us; a

feast where we all can remember and celebrate and believe.

Here we remember the good things the Lord has done for us. Here we receive anew the spirit of

the risen Lord, who dwells in our hearts in hope, and readies us for that great day of the Lord,

when we too will be raised up to the right hand of the father.

Here our eyes are opened, so that we too may see and believe, and glimpse the wedding feast of

the lamb, where we will dine with all our beloved dead who have gone before us marked with

the sign of faith.

But it’s still early in the morning of the first day of the week. It’s still dark. So until then, it is

here that we remember the death of the Lord;

It is here that we celebrate his dwelling with us, as Christ breaks the bread, and breaks open the

scriptures, for us, and gives us His own spirit and His own body, the Church.

It is here, at this Eucharist, where we await His return in glory. But we are here, because we have

come to know what Peter and John and Mary and those first disciples saw;

What our brothers and sisters throughout the world this Easter day profess;

And what our deceased brothers and sisters and all the angels and saints exclaim for all eternity:

Anastasis, Christ is risen; Anastasis; He is risen indeed.

And the people of God said, Amen.