Why Do You Look For The Living Among The Dead?

 

A Coptic Icon of the Resurrection

Genesis 1:1-2:4a [The Story of Creation]
Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21 [Israel's deliverance at the Red Sea]
Isaiah 55:1-11 [Salvation offered freely to all]
Proverbs 8:1-8, 19-21; 9:4b-6 [Learn wisdom and live]
 Ezekiel 37:1-14 [The valley of dry bones]

Romans 6:3-11
Psalm 114
Luke 24:1-12
 

The Rev. Seth Olson © 2022

Note: This sermon was preached before the Great Alleluia of Easter after the Vigil lessons were read. 

All-loving God, let my words be your words and when my words are not your words, let your people be wise enough to know the same. Amen.

It’s dark in here, isn’t it? So dark! It is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.” Before God said anything, Genesis tells us, it was dark—darkness covered the face of the deep. So, it is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

During the Exodus God’s cloud by day was dark coverage—enough even to enshroud the People of Israel as they escaped Pharaoh. At night that cloud became a pillar of fire lighting up a path on dry ground through the Red Sea. Still, it had to be dark walking between the walls of waves on either side. It is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

Darkness got no mention in what we heard from Isaiah, but it certainly lurked in the background. Not darkness, like poor vision from lack of light, but something much more disturbing. The prophet extended God’s invitation—a good thing. However, the prophet offered welcome because God’s People had been without. They had been hungry. They had been thirsty. They had been yearning for God. They had been held captive by enemies, by themselves, by a spiritual darkness. It is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

Like Isaiah, our Fourth Lesson shed light upon the darkness of ignorance that comes from a lack of knowing God’s Wisdom. This Wisdom cried out, she yearned to be heard—to be sought after more than gold and silver. For with her comes justice and flourishing relationship with God, with neighbor, and with self. Without her, life is lacking—it’s like living without the light. It is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

Wisdom though is not vital for living—enlightening yes, essential no—but we must have breath! Without it, we perish—we become like the beginning of Ezekiel’s lesson from this night. What a dark and dry time it was in that valley of the bones without God’s breath! It is dark, but certainly it has been darker.

These lessons speak to us about darkness. Funny, right? It’s amusing because so often we associate the Christian Faith with the brightness of the noonday sun. It’s like my favorite Easter dad-joke: Tomorrow’s forecast is a 100% chance of Son rise—S-O-N rise. The popular perception of Christianity is that it is about this noontime walk with God—some say Church and our Christian Faith is about all our shiny bits, the put-together parts of us, our Easter-Sunday-morning-best selves, and yet, so much of these stories and so much of our growth happens in the dark.

Yes, it has been said, we are Easter people, but you specifically are an Easter Vigil person. You and me, we are people who sit in the dark. Whatever brought you to church on this most holy night, you are here sitting in the dark. And, it makes me wonder, if you are willing to not only sit in this darkness, but also to be in moments of spiritual darkness. Challenging moments within yourself—tough times with your family, friends, neighbors, strangers, and even God.

Often it is in dark moments, these moments before the in-breaking light, that we experience the greatest gifts that come from our relationship with God. This is not always easy to see, but our walk with God is strengthened in deep darkness. There we find courage, compassion, community, curiosity, creativity—gifts we would not realize if we always stayed in the perceived safety of the light.

It really is so dark in here, which reminds me of an Easter service several years ago when I was serving at St. John’s in Decatur. There we had a morning Easter Vigil and in the predawn half-glow on that new day, the Organist, a man named Foster Bailey, missed the stairs that led into the side of the church. Instead, he nearly walked into the columbarium. It was funny because he was so disoriented at that time of day, but I think Foster had it right.

Walking into our dark church on this night is so startling. With only the light of the Paschal Candle it feels as though we are walking into a tomb precisely because that is what we are doing—we are walking into the grave of Christ Jesus. Now, the thought of being stuck in a tomb makes my skin crawl.

The closest experience I have had to being buried alive is going caving. Those trips beneath the earth were riveting. Especially, when everyone in the group would turn out their headlamps and stop speaking for a moment or two. It was disorienting down there—like in here.

On those trips, a worry would wash over me, “What if I get trapped here? What if some rocks fall at this precise moment? What if stones collapse over me, like the Red Sea washing over Pharoah’s army?” Worse still is the thought of getting trapped not in a cave, but in a place of deeper darkness—a place without the true light, like where God’s people were when the Prophets issued God’s call. That is a place where many of us have been, maybe some of us feel like that’s where we are now. A place with hunger, thirst and yearning, but without wisdom, breath, and life. This place of darkness is where we wait.

We await a moment so passionately longed for by us and by all. A time when the darkness not outside of us, but inside of us will be no more. A second when any semblance of separation is smashed. An era when evil ceases to exist. A day when death is vanquished. An age bathed in radiant light. That is what we await, sitting in the shadows.

And, how remarkable it is during this service, coming into this completely dark place with only the light of Christ leading us! Slowly that light spreads, but even just that one true light is enough to keep the darkness away, enough that the darkness cannot overcome it, enough that the darkness comprehendeth it not.

But, for a moment more it is dark—in this church—in this tomb. And, if we were to blow out all our candles, and maybe you need to if you are holding a puddle of wax at this point, then it might be almost as dark as it ever has been. As dark as it was on Maundy Thursday when the disciples betrayed, denied, and abandoned Jesus. As dark as it was on Good Friday when at noon Jesus hung on the cross and the light of the sun failed to shine. As dark as it was when Joseph and Nicodemus laid Jesus down and the tomb was sealed.

It is dark, but certainly it has been darker. And, in this dark silence, if we listen closely, we will hear the footsteps of the women approaching. And, messengers of the true light await, wondering, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

Your Ministry

The Most Rev. Michael Curry has been everywhere from the View to the Today Show since the Royal Wedding.

If you got trapped under a rock this past week you may not know that our Presiding Bishop, the Most Rev. Michael Curry, preached at Saturday’s Royal Wedding between Megan Merkel and Prince Harry. And, by most accounts he knocked it out of the park. He delivered a lively homily for the ages. He wowed the 2 billion people watching. And, he even got some startling reactions from the Royal Family. It was masterful. It was fun. It was a moment that we can be proud of as Episcopalians. But, it will all be a waste if we simply sit around and pat ourselves on the back.

Some have criticized Presiding Bishop Curry for using the afterglow of that moment. He got on Twitter to tell folks that if they liked what they saw, then it might be meet and right to head over to their local Episcopal Church the next day. “Oh, that’s shameful marketing!” some suggested. In response Curry has continued to point not to his own ministry, but to that of the Church and more importantly to the ministry we share in Christ Jesus. Did you know that?

Did you know that you share in the ministry not just of this Church, but of Christ Jesus himself? Did you know that you—yes I am talking about you—are part of this same movement of love? “Oh,” you say, “I don’t know about all that.” Then, the reasons why you do not qualify begin to roll off your tongue:

-“I don’t follow all the right rules.”
-“I need to do more service towards others.”
-“I haven’t achieved enough status to qualify yet.”
-“I am not special enough to be part of that ministry.”
-“I do not know enough yet.”
-“I am not part of this prestigious group.”
-“I am not happy enough.”
-“I do not the leader of the group.”
-“I am not at peace enough to belong.”

You and I both have our reasons for thinking that we just do not make the cut. And, all of those reasons are bogus. They are bologna!

God has chosen you to be part of this movement. That is why you are alive at this precise moment. That is why you exist right now. That is why God continues to call you into being alive every second of everyday of your life thus far. It’s pretty magnificient and at the same time our part in this grand ministry is pretty miniscule. But, that’s okay because it’s not really about how grand I am or you are. No, it’s about how collectively we are called by God to take part in the ministry of Jesus. Today of all days, is a day to remember and celebrate this truth.

Four times throughout the year the Church sets apart special days dedicated to ministry. They are called Ember Days. They happen on the Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday before the Fourth Sunday of Advent, the Second Sunday of Lent, Trinity Sunday, and during the third week of September. However, most just remember Lenty-Penty-Lucy-Crucy… For Lent, Pentecost, St. Lucy’s Day (in December), and Holy Cross Day in September. More than the timing what matters is the purpose behind these days.

These days are times when those preparing for ordination have special observances, practice fasting, and write a letter to their bishop. “Alright,” you may be thinking, “what does this have to do with me?” Well, while this is an occasion set apart for those preparing to take on formal ordination vows in the Church, the readings, the themes, and the spirit of this day connects to God’s call for each of us—whether we are ordained in Holy Baptism or at another ordination service. Again, you have a ministry that is part of Christ’s ministry. But, what does that mean and what does that look like?

First, let’s cover what it looks like to be in this Jesus Movement. Returning to our Presiding Bishop’s message, it is fantastic that he spoke so powerfully of God’s love that changes the world, but now how do we live into that? It is quite easy to just go about our lives with our heads down plowing along. Letting the cuts and bruises of life affect us. As we do, we may end up hard-headed and hard-hearted. Our reading from Ezekiel though, tells us the truth of what God wants for us. God wants to remove our stubbornness, so that we might have soft, fleshy hearts and creative minds that see the world with new eyes on a daily basis.

Our Gospel lesson for today illuminates this more fully. The Sons of Thunder aka James and John wanted to be the best of the lot, the rulers of the disciples. Jesus though challenged all his followers to flip the world on its head. We—when we let God’s love take hold of us—do not seek lofty positions of power, but lowly places of servitude. That is what it looks like to be part of this movement, to seek and serve others every chance we get. But what does it mean to be part of the ministry of Jesus?

When we are part of the Jesus Movement we recognize the vision of Romans 6 as the truth of our existence. We know that death no longer has power over us, neither does sin, nor corruption, nor any other forces of evil. We have been buried with Christ. And, in this death Christ destroyed death and all its minions. If we no longer fear death, then the question begs to be asked, “What is it that we are afraid of?”

If we are no longer fearful of forces of evil, if we are instead clothed in Christ’s death and resurrection, what can’t we do? This is what it means to be part of the Jesus Movement. We are eternally alive in Christ. We are living in God’s death-conquering love.

Now, this does not mean we won’t physically grow old and die. It does not mean that evil does not exist in this world. Nor, does it mean that we won’t make mistakes. Rather, as we choose to live life in Christ what we become is part of the life-altering, death-destroying, universe-changing movement of love that will transform everything. You are part of this ministry. Do not doubt that for a moment.

So, let us not rest on the laurels of our leader’s wedding sermon heard round the world. Instead, may we have soft hearts to receive God’s love, may we live out of that love as we become servants of all, and may we know that we are all ministers in Jesus’ Movement of universe-changing love! And for that calling, thanks be to God. Amen.

Dare We Go?

Usually this sermon happens in the light, but since Foster our beloved organist (wait, did I say beloved? I meant curmudgeonly organist) missed so much of Lent this year, I wanted to give his weary soul one more moment of penitence before we step into the light. Nonetheless, it’s a little strange to be preaching in the dark staring ahead at something in the distance.

High-speed cameras exist today that can capture video in excess of 1,000 frames per second. This means the subtleties that we once could not observe we now have the ability to study with intense scrutiny. We can properly calculate that a hummingbird flaps its wings 70 times per second. We can estimate with more precision the blast radius of explosives used to implode a dilapidated, old building. We can also—painfully sometimes—see the moment when a wide receiver gets his foot or feet in bounds to make a thrilling catch—and send our hopes soaring or crashing to the ground. This technology even gives us the ability to see those precise moments when even a minute change occurs—maybe even a change that changes everything.

For us this morning though, we won’t need any of that fancy equipment the naked eye will do just fine. As we look ahead, we also look back carefully at these stories of creation, love, and salvation. There we see precipitous moments right before it became clear that God would indeed act. In the beginning there was “a formless void and darkness covering the face of the deep” and then (Genesis 1:2). Abraham took Isaac on a walk with fire and the wood but no lamb and then (Genesis 22:7). An oppressed people wandered and wondered if dying in the wilderness was any better than being worked to death and then (Exodus 14:11). A valley of dry bones felt lost and completely cut off from God and then (Ezekiel 37:11). We observe these moments before the moments that we truly remember. Sometimes though we still remember the moments before the moments.


I remember being six or seven years old and having one of the best nights of my childhood. On a Thursday night my dad took me to go see a live-action Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles production. It was to borrow some of their phrases, “RADICAL”, “EXCELLENT,” and “BODACIOUS”! As my father knew one of the tech guys we got to sit in this cool booth. The A/V guy would point out right before something awesome was to happen, so that I would pay particularly close attention. I can still see the choreographed flipping and fighting in my mind now.

When the show concluded my dad took me to go pick up my mom and sister who had been at church. At the time I definitely thought I had gotten the good end of that deal—no church and Ninja Turtles—Seth 2-Life 0. Still I can recall that moment of walking into the church. Everything was dark. All the normal liturgical hangings were missing, the candles were extinguished, and even the crosses were either gone or covered. I saw my mother weeping and wanted to say to her, “Don’t worry the Turtles show will come back and next time you can take me,” but something stopped me from saying anything. That was my first memory of a Maundy Thursday liturgy—a service that is all about the moment before the moment. For it is when we remember the night before Jesus died when he shared communion, washed feet, and commanded us to love one another. That service is the beginning of the Triduum (our holy service of three days) that we conclude this morning!

Typically we like to rush through the moments before the good stuff, or what we perceive will be the good stuff. We fast forward through commercials. We order ahead to avoid the lines at restaurants and even grocery stores now. Hey, I’m all about efficiency—I’m the kettle calling out the pot. Sometimes though all this rushing ahead distracts us from paying attention to what God is doing right in front of us, how God is sitting right here with us. We push ourselves or others into moving beyond the moment so often that I fear we are not like those cameras that record a thousand frames per second, but instead like a TiVo or DVR that is ready to skip ahead (bebop).
Even in the midst of what we call a crisis, a dilemma, or our lives ripping at the seams God is present right in the thick of it with us. This is as true for us as it was for a group of women long ago.

There was a small group of dedicated disciples a long time ago who sat anxiously awaiting the Passover Sabbath to end, so that they may go to tend to the dead body of their beloved Jesus. Their reality felt broken. Their savior had not only been killed, but betrayed by friends, tortured, and then crucified. Their lives had been sideswiped by the cruel forces of the world. I cannot imagine how much grief they bore and how difficult it must have been to take the first step out the door from their bleak homes. Somehow though they stared that moment—the one before the moment we remember—dead in the eye and they did not blink.

We are called to be like Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. We are charged with paying attention to what God is doing in this world. Just like in the story of creation, the story of Abraham and Isaac, the story of Israel’s deliverance, and the story of the Valley of the Dry Bones when in each there was a moment before the moment. We are called to see that sometimes before we hear the Good News we have to hear the bad. And, that even then God is with us.

Do not mistakenly think that God’s creative, life-giving, salvific love is locked in the past, so that we may never taste it, never feel it, never experience it. That’s just not true. The Truth is we always sit on the cusp of divine transformation, we’re always on the brink of celestial brightness, even at this moment we rest on the edge of Resurrection. Dare we go with the women to look into the tomb?

Expect Resurrection

You are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, and... 

Homily audio can be found here. This homily is based on Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 22:1-18; Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21; Ezekiel 37:1-14; Romans 6:3-11 ; Matthew 28:1-10

We have made our way through Holy Week. We have walked the streets of Jerusalem waving palms. We have had our feet washed by Jesus and washed one another’s feet. We have witnessed the betrayal, denial, and sentencing of Jesus. We have journeyed to the Cross to behold the pain of Jesus and the glory of God’s self-sacrificing love. Now after a day of rest we are at the tomb.

“Suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them” (Ezekiel 37:7-8).

You are made of bones and sinews and flesh and skin. You are also made of atoms, a lot of atoms! Rob Bell, who is a Christian thinker and author, said on a recent podcast that we are made up of 7 billion, billion, billion atoms. Some of the atoms in our bodies date back over a billion years. That is right, you are made of atoms that previously constituted something else. The heavier atoms actually come from star dust. So you are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, atoms, and stars!

What is more parts of you are constantly dying away. Every week you regenerate new skin cells. More amazingly every seven years or so your entire body will be reconstituted by new cells. Hundreds of millions of cells die within you and hundreds of millions more come to life. You are ever dying and you are ever coming to life. You are not just made of bones and sinews and flesh and skin and atoms and stardust. You are made of death and rebirth! The you that you are today is not the you that you once were, nor is it the you that you will become. You are made of death and rebirth. You are death and resurrection.

If this is who you are, which I believe is the case for all of us, spotting death and resurrection would seem an easy task, but somehow we miss it or part of it. We easily observe death, just turn on CNN, open your paper, or check out a news website. Death drives sales! Yet, all this death tends to dry us out. We end up like the bones from Ezekiel’s valley. We are breathless. So what do we do? How can we mere mortals catch God’s breath? We can’t. Not because we are unworthy or bad or wrong, but because God’s Spirit already resides within us. Yet, if this breath is in us how can we get so lifeless? We need Resurrection.

A long time ago there were two women. Although they did not appear in the foreground of Matthew’s account of the Good News about Jesus of Nazareth until the very end, they had been with him since the beginning at Galilee. They have provided for him Matthew tells us. This is an interesting word for it is not used all that often except to describe angels, Peter’s mother-in-law, and Jesus himself. They provided Jesus with comfort, food, and fellowship. They gave life, but how?

Now on the first day of the week after the day when Jesus was crucified and after the Sabbath when Mary and Mary had been starring at the place where Jesus rest, they decided to go see the tomb. These women act strangely at first glance, why would you sit and stare or go to look at a sealed grave? Recall that Jesus foretold of his Resurrection, well these two actually heard it and remembered it. They were not going to look at an enclosed cavern they were coming to see the Resurrection. They were on the hunt for Resurrection. They understood that they were not going out to look at death for they brought no spices to adorn the dead. They went out actually looking for Jesus to be raised from the dead.

To be here at the Easter Vigil I imagine that you are pretty serious or pretty curious. You are either pretty serious about following Jesus or you are pretty curious about what following Jesus actually means. Following Jesus means recognizing the substance of your being comes from death and resurrection. Following Jesus means being like these women who provided for Jesus, except that when we provide for Jesus now that means we provide for everyone who makes up his body now (i.e. the least among us). Following Jesus means that we do not remain dry and breathless in the face of death, but in the face of death we expect God’s resurrecting power.

On this most Holy night remember that you are made of bones, sinews, flesh, skin, atoms, stardust, death, God’s breath, and Resurrection. Know that your call in this new glow of Easter is to be like Mary and Mary. Go out and provide for Jesus wherever you meet Him. And, most importantly expect Resurrection! Expect to find Resurrection wherever you may see death! Be Resurrection, provide for the Resurrected Lord, and expect Resurrection!

In the name of the Resurrected Lord who is Father, Son, and Spirit! Amen.