He isn't here, but has been raised. - Luke 24:6

Dear Beloved Children of God:

The women – Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the wife of James, and the others with them – go to the tomb of their friend on the third day since his horrendous, humiliating death at the hands of the Romans. The women – in their humble, courageous act – go with spices for his body.

They arrive at the tomb: it is empty. They encounter two men in shining clothes. And they go and tell the astonishing news. He isn’t here, but has been raised.

Imagine – surprise, bewilderment, fear, confusion, and even grief. The apostles react in disbelief – but Peter runs to see for himself.

He isn’t here, but has been raised. Unexpected news, to say the least: it’s difficult to understand; it’s impossible to get your mind around it.

The risen Jesus – who is he? What is going on? What does it all mean? What will happen next? This sudden surge of God’s grace – it is good news, unexpected, difficult to believe, impossible to understand.

What is really going on? Not just the facts, ma’am, but what it means – that is what they, and we, would like to know. Because we want to know what happens next – what will happen next, for them, and for us.

Don’t be afraid, the angels say, when they bring good news. And they tell us it is good news. God has plans in mind for your future, not for your harm, but for good, and full of hope. And what could be more hopeful than the news the angels bring?

He isn’t here, but has been raised. What could be more astonishing, more impossible, more true? But if it is true – then what? Everything must change! And not, my friends, in order that everything may stay the same. All things have changed, for the good, with this good news.

Peter ran to see for himself. Are we running to see Jesus? Can we catch up to this good news? Or will it catch up to us first?

Come worship with us Easter morning – and let us discover together where the good news takes us next.

Father John

Easter Sunday services 8:00 and 10:30 a.m., March 31st.

You are always welcome at St. Alban’s!

The Episcopal Church in Edmonds’ Five Corners Neighborhood

21405 82^nd Place West, Edmonds WA 98026

(425) 778-0371 http://stalbansedmonds.org

Easter 2013

Holy Week Schedule

Palm Sunday services 8:00 and 10:30 am March 24^th.

Tenebrae March 27, 7pm. 
Maundy Thursday Eucharist 7pm. 
Good Friday liturgy at noon.

Easter Sunday morning – celebrations at 8:00 and 10:30 am.

 

Luke 24:1-12

The empty tomb

Very early in the morning on the first day of the week, the women went to the tomb, bringing the fragrant spices they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they didn’t find the body of the Lord Jesus. They didn’t know what to make of this. Suddenly, two men were standing beside them in gleaming bright clothing. The women were frightened and bowed their faces toward the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He isn’t here, but has been raised. Remember what he told you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words. When they returned from the tomb, they reported all these things to the eleven and all the others. It was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told these things to the apostles. Their words struck the apostles as nonsense, and they didn’t believe the women. But Peter ran to the tomb. When he bent over to look inside, he saw only the linen cloth. Then he returned home, wondering what had happened.

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Easter Day 2013

 

Imagine her at the tomb, expecting – nothing but death. A dead man. Mary Magdalene, along with Joanna and the other women, had come, in that early dawning, to prepare their master’s body for its final rest.

Nothing there – not even a corpse!

And then the angels.

Terrifying presence, terrifying absence.

—He is not here?

—Why would he be? He is alive, has risen.

This is incredible, it’s indelible, and it is Mary’s first inkling, of revelation of the truth.

Death has been defeated, swallowed up in victory.

We all have experiences of vivid moments— where you when.

When you met Gabby Giffords. Where you were when you heard she was shot.

Diane Feinstein remembers the shooting of George Moscone and Harvey Milk. She was in her office in city hall in San Francisco and a former colleague, Dan White, walked by. “Hey, Dan! Wait a minute…” But he kept walking.

She heard a door close. Shots. And then, she says, she opened the wrong door. Harvey Milk dead. George Moscone dead.

That night an angry crowd gathered on the pavement outside City Hall. Angry, at the crime of hate. And a riot brewed.

Diane came out on the balcony of City Hall, above the front door, outside the room where the killing had taken place. She was carrying a single candle and she was alone.

She spoke to the crowd, calmly. They became quiet. But she never forgot that day or that night.

One person’s vivid experience of terror, loss, and sorrow.

Mary of Magdala would never forget the man she met, walking by the lakeshore or telling a story in a village. She remembered how he helped her come to herself, healed her, set her free of oppression, and helped her to find the way to her true self.

And she followed him, ever since. Then the Hosannas, the cup and the bread, and the Cross.  Silence on Saturday—

And now all her loss, all her grief, magnified, in his absence—

Only to find, joyous beyond believing, he had risen!

Her experience of the risen Christ began. She had known him as well as anyone – and he knew her better than everyone. In him she had found forgiveness, grace, and a calling. A call to be a disciple. The burden of forgiveness. The weight of grace.

He did not leave her to bear the weight of grace alone. And she heard the call to carry his message.

The burden of forgiveness, the weight of grace, the call to life.

How do you experience his presence, the presence of the risen Christ?

I was inquisitive, seeking wisdom, asking questions, until one day, I found all my seeking satisfied in the presence of the Lord.

I woke up early, six o’clock on a Holy Saturday morning, and I thought­— and I caught myself thinking— “Now if Jesus…”

And I smiled, a little half smile. Because I knew. I realized, and admitted, that I knew Jesus was real. And I accepted him.

I prayed and accepted— the burden of forgiveness, the weight of grace, and the call, the call to be a disciple.

And I accepted the yoke of the calling: to be his disciple, to bear his good news into the world, to live it and to proclaim it. I had come to myself, my true self, in his presence.

And knew what it was to be free. And I began to follow him.

He did not leave me alone in this: he gave me companions on the way, and he is with me, through the Spirit, to share the burden, shoulder the yoke, and bear the weight.

We are not any of us alone, because it is a gift to be shared, a story to be told. It is a gift so precious, so priceless, that it has to be given away.

The gift of the knowledge

of the reality

of the experience

of the presence

of the risen Lord.

All of us are seeking the same thing, and the same thing, your grace, is seeking all of us.

Be known to us in the breaking of bread.

Come Lord Jesus, be known to us, be present among us; that we may make you known to the world.