Easter Day

Christ with Us

The Love of Christ

Surround us

The Light of Christ 

Lead us

The Peace of Christ

Fill us

The Power of Christ

Aid us

The Joy of Christ

Thrill us

The Presence of Christ

Be with us evermore.

David Adam, Tides and Seasons, SPCK, 1989, 76.

 

• Acts 10:34-43
• or Isaiah 25:6-9
• 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
• or Acts 10:34-43
• John 20:1-18
• or Mark 16:1-8
• Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Easter/BEasterPrin_RCL.html

Easter Day

 And so it begins again. Nothing is the same and all is as it ever was.

     We are not the same. We are changed. We are made new, a new creation, in the Holy Spirit, in God, and in Christ, as we, baptized or renewed in our vows, face the new dawn of Easter. It is a new day.

     God is the same. Ever faithful. Ever triumphant and sorrowful. On the cross, in the grave, and now, raised from the dead, Jesus is Jesus is the one who leads the way. He is the first born of all of us.

     We are a new creation. We are the ones God who created us redeemed and sanctifies and inspires.

     This Easter is like no other and like all to come and all before it.

     As Michael Curry pointed out in his Easter sermon, that first Easter nobody knew it was Easter. Except the Lord, of course.

     As Greg Rickel pointed out in his Easter message, this time is different. It always is and this time it sure is.

     We may learn something. We may learn something for awhile. Things pass, and time. We may forget.

     Or we may not: we may remember what (we who are living then) what this time was like: and how we came together as we were separated. And looked after each other. And waited. For a new day.

***

One morning just before dawn I awoke in the Gloria Hotel near the Jaffa Gate in Old Jerusalem, and laced up my boots and made my way through the city streets to the church of the Holy Sepulchre. I really couldn't tell you what I was looking at, at first. A slab inside the front door. Steep stairs leading upwards. A small round building inside a large rotunda. And steps steeply leading downwards across the way.

     The stairs leading up were leading down from Calvary. The slab was where they laid him. The small round building enclosed the tomb - and the place of resurrection. The steps steeply downwards led to the place that a piece of wood was found, centuries after his death, perhaps a piece of the execution engine upon which his body had been fixed on Good Friday. It was pretty quiet around there at 5:30 a.m.

     Later that day I went back with a large group of pilgrims, who were quickly surrounded by much larger crowds. We slowly made our way up the line and in, in groups of six, inside that small round building. We knelt, three at a time, at the marble slab inside the inside room of that place. I laid my head on the stone. And closed my eyes. And lost time.

     And woke up with a gasp. And wandered out into the relative daylight of the larger room. "This way, Father," the attendant ushered me.

     And that was a new day too.

Easter Day

Early Service.  
Romans 6:3-11
Matthew 28:1-10
Psalm 114

Principal Service.

• Acts 10:34-43
• or Jeremiah 31:1-6
• Colossians 3:1-4
• or Acts 10:34-43
• John 20:1-18
• or Matthew 28:1-10
• Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24

Evening Service.

• Isaiah 25:6-9
• 1 Corinthians 5:6b-8
• Luke 24:13-49
• Psalm 114

 

got fish?

Have you got anything here to eat? A simple, reasonable request. Coming at an extraordinary time. Jesus had just been through one of the most painful and terrifying, and so far unique, experiences a human being has ever undergone. Three days earlier Jesus had been crucified. Thousands had been crucified before him. Thousand would be crucified after. That is not what was unique to Jesus’ experience. But no one of those thousands, except himself, had undergone what was probably one of the most terrifying and painful experiences a human being could undergo. He rose from the dead. Nobody had ever had that experience before. And so here he was a few days later, visiting his disciples. And he said, “have you got anything to eat?” Maybe that would show, per the Evangelist, that he was a real human person after all. All the times the gospels took pains to show he was more than human: now they show that he was truly human. Truly human: I think he was hungry. For three days he had not eaten. (Perhaps a good reason for our three days’ fast.) Before that he was up all night praying, then grabbed, interrogated, tortured, mocked, marched through the streets, and hung up on a cross. And then he was in a rock-hewn tomb. Three days. As promised, he had not eaten since the Passover meal he shared with his disciples. No wonder he was hungry. Wonder that he was. (Luke 24:41)

Easter Prayer

Jesus Christ our Savior, you have delivered us from sin and death. You have brought with the dawn of this day a new beginning and an empty tomb; grant us strength and humility, love and courage, hospitality and faithfulness, wisdom and compassion, mercy and grace, to enter into life, and to welcome into the new life in Christ the stranger we meet who becomes our brother, the foreigner who becomes our kinsman, the enemy who becomes our friend, the opponent who becomes our teacher, the sorrowful who becomes a wellspring of joy: all the fruits of the Spirit we anticipate may we receive with abundance of grace, through your transforming love. Amen.

Holy Saturday and Easter

Holy Saturday 

.82 red - that was the vote. A strong consensus in the affirmative on the proposition. That was the vote of the scholars assembled two decades ago. Using established criteria they evaluated the historical basis of every saying and every action attributed to Jesus in the gospels. Scholars of history and the Biblical text, they could approach received opinion with a detached, even skeptical eye.

They would discuss each proposition brought before them and come to a consensus - or not.

What they did was vote. A red bead in the ballot box affirmed the proposition: YES. A black vote meant NO.

Sometimes they widely disagreed. Sometimes dissenters were few and consensus was strong. On this proposition one dissenter before the vote said something very similar to what Hamlet said to his friend, “There is more in heaven and earth than is contained in all your philosophy.”

It was Holy Saturday and they voted. The consensus was strong: .82 red (out of a possible 1.0).

The proposition before them was this: Jesus’ body decayed.

That is as far as that method can take you. (Holy Saturday) What you can see, what you can measure, what could be recorded with a camera or microphone if one existed at the time - that’s the kind of historical fact their criteria could evaluate.

But --

We know there is more. We have, some of us, perhaps in this room, experienced more than that. And so the question is, what if Jesus rose from the dead? What if it’s true?

Easter Sunday

If the Resurrection is true, Jesus is true: he is indeed the Son of God, the Savior, the one in whom the fullness of God is pleased to dwell, our best hope of seeing the mind of God and therefore the meaning of the universe; and to know him is to have a relationship with him, not an intellectual proposition to demand our assent, but a living Lord to call for our obedience.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, evil has been vanquished. No longer can the powers of this world – Pilate, Temple guard, the coterie of power brokers – none of them hold sway after all. The real power is in God’s hands, the hands of a Savior.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, the gates of death have been shattered, torn from their hinges – he has walked freely through them. Beyond death there is life, new life in Christ. Baptism, the immersion into the waters of mortality and re-emergence into life, shows us that as we die to sin, we are raised to new life in Him.

If Christ is raised, life means something beyond itself. Our petty purposes and grand schemes, the bumps and slingshot wounds of daily life, the deep disappointments of tragic news and wearing sorrow, come around the compass to a new bearing: the compass-needle of our lives now points beyond ourselves; our true direction is found in Christ.

If it is true that Christ is risen, then Jesus is alive – now. You can get to know him – in the breaking of the bread, the sharing of the cup, the anointing, baptism, prayers and peace; you can get to know him through friend and stranger: his image is all around you.

If it is true that Christ is risen, he is offering us a friendship of transformative power: both stern teacher and careful shepherd, he guides us through the painful metamorphosis of our lives into a new life of sacramental meaning and purpose.

If Christ is risen indeed, then we are right to believe in LIFE against DEATH, a revelation of life that is the opposite of the obsessive vision of death and violence so often purveyed in our worldly world, as if it were the end of the story.

If Christ is risen, then the limits are off. If Christ is risen indeed, LIFE is possible – we can do anything through the One who strengthens us.

If Christ is risen, the life of the world – politics, science, art and music, all of it – matters; it is redeemed, it is transformed, it has value and purpose and honor because God has given life value and purpose and honor through the resurrection of his Son.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, then justice is a given. It is going to happen. And how can we do less than work for justice, when God has given his own Son that we might be free?

For by raising his Son from the dead, God has given all of us new life. God sent his Son into the world – bringing his justice indeed – not to bring it condemnation but to redeem it, not to render it meaningless but to give it meaning. For God gave his Son so that who ever put his trust in Him would not perish – would not be sent down to death and shadow – but would be brought into the light and life and love and laughter and joy of the day that dawns today, the new life in Christ that we celebrate on Easter morning.

Death no longer can claim the last word; beyond death is the triumph of the Son of the living God: life everlasting, flowing as a river, in the presence of the Son of the living God.

And we are called to enter the new life in Christ now, today, as we speak, on Easter morning: Christ is alive!

And this present moment is the moment of freedom: we define ourselves as we choose life; we define ourselves as his people, children of the day. We live no longer in darkness, no longer subject to the powers of sin, but in the full light and joy of the Day of the Lord.

This is the Day that the Lord has made – the day when behold! He has made all things new – let us enter into that new day, and the work and the play and the love and the laughter, the burden of sorrow shifted onto the broad shoulders that carried the Cross, the joy of his emerging Kingdom present & effervescent in our hearts and in our lives – this is the Lord’s Day; indeed He is risen: Let us rejoice and be glad in it! Amen.

--------------------

Easter Day Year A:  Acts 10:34-43. Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24. Matthew 28:1-10.

A New Zealand Prayer Book, p. 592-3

John Pritchard, Living Easter Through the Year (SPCK, 2005) p. 33-36.

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.

He has been raised - and we with him

He was crucified under Pontius Pilate. The most scrupulous of scholars will affirm that as historical fact. But --

We would know nothing of Jesus if he had not been raised from the dead. As it is nothing can stay the same; for we do know of him – and we know him. Because he has been raised from the dead, our faith is alive.

Our faith is in a living Lord – and that makes all the difference. He is alive – and so he is not just a historical figure – to be studied as just another man. He is alive and is alive in us. He is not a mere memory – someone to talk about from the days of a distant past. He is a presence. His influence is all around us and on us and in us.

Jesus is not so much someone to talk about – as someone to meet, not so much someone to know about – as someone to know, and not so much to know – as to be known by.

We may begin by learning about him, studying him, discussing his impact on us, but we wake up to his living presence at last; we know him and trust him. 

(The above draws on William Barclay, The Gospel of Mark. Revised Edition. The Daily Study Bible Series. Edinburgh: The Saint Andrew Press, 1956. 368-369.)

From this point on our lives do not stand still – they move. For our faith is in a living Lord – always moving, changing, revealing new wonders for us to discover, new delights for us to enjoy and share with him. We take joy in his presence in others; we delight in the creation he unfolds; we pause in wonder at the depths of his love.

Truth deepens within us – and so we too are ever changing, growing, developing, and maturing in faith, as we walk with him on the path to Jerusalem and beyond.

Where will we go from here? What happens to us – but to grow in faith? Even as we age physically, we can be growing spiritually. We find ourselves on an upward path, toward his glory, toward knowing him at last in fullness— being known ourselves.

What little we know of the resurrected life of the individual we shall learn in the gospel lessons of the next few weeks – the season of Easter. What we know of the resurrected life of the community – of the Body of Christ that is the Church – we shall study from the Day of Pentecost all the way through to the feast of All Saints. It is a long green growing season in which we see the resurrection of our Lord and its implications for life played out in the life of the believers, our lives.

From our baptism we begin on the journey of faith, the journey into freedom. It is a long journey, a pilgrimage: to become perfected in our faith, to be sustained in the Spirit, and to grow into the fullness of the stature of Christ.

Today we welcome a new person into the journey, together with us – a new pilgrim into our company of travelers – as we together walk the way of Jesus – and as we welcome the newly baptized so we deepen and reinforce our own commitment as followers of the cross, as heirs of hope, as witnesses of the resurrection.

Today we baptize a new member of the household of faith. We take a vow on her behalf. Her parents and godparents undertake to raise her in the faith; the congregation undertakes to support them in this effort – and to see her grow in Christ. This is our job. This is part of the work of a Christian community: to see its new members grow in faith and grow into the fullness of the stature of Christ.

During the sacrament of Holy Baptism,

The Celebrant asks the parents and godparents:

Will you be responsible for seeing that the child you present
is brought up in the Christian faith and life?

And each of the Parents and Godparents responds:

I will, with God's help.

And the Celebrant asks:

Will you by your prayers and witness help this child to grow
into the full stature of Christ?

And the Parents and Godparents each respond:

I will, with God's help.

But then the Celebrant addresses the congregation, saying:

Will you who witness these vows do all in your
power to support these persons in their life in Christ?

And the People say      We will.

It is that third vow I want to talk to you about today. What it means for the newly baptized, for her parents and godparents, for you – and for the community around you. We are each of us - and all of us - called into a ministry of support for baptized persons in their life in Christ.

As a people of God, as a welcoming, Christ-centered community of faithful believers, we are called to embody and fulfill our own baptismal promises. These are the promises of the Baptismal Covenant, which we will reaffirm in just a few minutes. We are called – as God’s people – to become the good news for the people in our community.

We are the ones who will act as super-godparents of the faithful – not just this child and her sisters but all persons who come to us seeking the life of faith, the good news of Christ.

“We will!” the people say. We say it with all the good will in the world, but what will it mean? In coming days after the liturgy what difference will it have made to say this?

“We will” comes as the ‘third vow’ in the rite of baptism, as it does in the rites of marriage and ordination. It comes after the candidates, or the parents and godparents speaking on their behalf, have said, “I will.”

It is the undertaking of the congregation – to uphold and support these people in their pledge.

What will it mean after the service –?

There is no indication in the Book of Common Prayer that this third vow is to be taken any less seriously, or carried out with less of a will, than the vows that precede it in the rite.

At baptisms we are used to parents, godparents, sponsors, witnesses and/or presenters to take a role. This is not a private, family ceremony, but a service of the church and public. It is not simply giving something special away – it requires responsible incorporation of new members into the community of faith.

Grace is what we want to impart – not cheaply nor wantonly entered into but advisedly and soberly, with a reasonable intention to guide us. The minister, the priest, must have, indeed, a ‘founded hope’ (in the felicitous Roman phrase) that the child shall be raised in the faith. This hope must be founded on vows not only individual but congregational.

Will you who witness these vows do all in your power to support these persons in their new life in Christ?

We ask those who are to be baptized to come forward. We call them out of the congregation, saying, Come forward. You sponsors come along too; and we will pray for you, and we will work with you, and walk with you, in the newness of life you now seek.

The congregation, represented by the sponsors, continues to monitor the progress in faith and newness of life, offering material and moral support and guidance as needed.

This rite of baptism has a meaning for the whole congregation, as the people of God in whose context and presence these sacramental rites take on living form, incarnating the grace of God in the middle of them, and bringing home to the congregation as well their role in the ongoing support of the newly baptized, as they continue to pursue and enact the vocation these vows represent.

This ritual provides an opportunity for the church to take responsibility for its growth and development as a welcoming, Christ-centered community, and to take pride in faith and fellowship, moving forward into a hopeful future, a future where the members of the church embody and enact the reign of a just and loving God in their relationships with each other and in their service to the community and the world, individually and together.

How then can these ‘third vows’ be made sufficiently explicit (and lavish) to engender a sense of meaning and responsibility in we who take them?

Conversion – the continuing turning, turning home which is the Christian life – means taking responsibility for an area of one’s own growth and development. This day’s work, this baptism, can yield new insight into the meaning of the baptismal covenant, not only for the person being baptized today but also indeed for the whole people here assembled.

This is the hidden opportunity of the ‘third vow’. There are plenty of charming examples of a celebrant chiding the people, ‘say it again, this time with feeling’, but beyond emotion and stage theatrics, what lasting change can be effected by taking this vow?

And what help and support and affirmation might the newly baptized expect to receive after the service is over?

The idea of sponsors or witnesses to baptism allows for some willing individuals to represent and model for the congregation the affirmation that all make together and the support that all undertake before God in solemn assembly to carry out.

The people of God have work to do, in praise and prayer and service, which we affirm and renew in this sacramental liturgy? Let’s put some ‘oomph’ into ‘we will’ – and vim into our vows, and power into our prayers. 

Will you pray for this child and her parents?

Will you make her - and all children - welcome in church?

Will you get to know the family and walk with them through good times and challenging times?

Will you participate in the education of this child - and all children - as Christians?


Will you who witness these vows do all in your
power to support these persons in their life in Christ?

And the People say      We will.

Amen.

Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts 10:34-43
Mark 16:1-8

Easter Day * April 8, 2012

JRL+

This sermon owes a lot to the Rev. Dr. Susan Marie Smith, who taught a course on worship at the San Francisco Theological Seminary in 2011. Some of the ideas come from a paper that I wrote for her class.

Easter is a season

Easter is a season, not just a day.

Easter Day 2011

The Mousetrap – a play by Agatha Christie – has been running in a London theatre since, well, since this church was founded. Over the years, Herb O’Driscoll tells us, the actors change roles. They come in as ingénue or child actor, mature and take on adult roles, then as they age gradually move to the characters in their middle and later years. Same players, different roles: but all the world’s a stage, and all the people players. Over the years our roles change, and we take on new ones, leaving earlier ones to new people. We change; but the show does –

- Go on.

Thanks, I will.

The show goes on. It is the eternal drama that we are in – the story of the love of God for humankind – and it does not end in tragedy. It is a comedy. It ends in glory – and in joy.

The story began – at the beginning, when Jesus already was, present, as the Word of God, and into the silence spoke “Light” and there was light. It continued through the days of the patriarchs and matriarchs, the prophets, and on down to the days of Joseph and Mary. They raised a son; they called Jesus. And he came to set the people free.

They were oppressed, under Herod, and under Pilate, and under sin even more. He freed them. By his death, his resurrection, and his glorious ascension, he brought home people to their home in God. We take this good news forward with us through time – we are this good news to the people around us – and as we carry the gospel with us we take on roles, to help us give dramatic life to the good-news story, and we pass those roles on to others.

The roles change, the story continues.

There is another show to tell you about – a good one, too. CATS. It was playing on Broadway when I lived in New York. I went to church with a lot of theater people. One of them remarked to me that the producers of that show had decided to start over with a whole new cast. Same show, same roles, different cast. A fresh start, I said, that’s good.

But, he said, a lot of people were counting on that income. They bought houses.

They had counted on things staying the same. But they didn’t. Not any more than things stayed the same for Caiaphas and Annas and the Temple priests and the scribes, and Pilate the procurator of Judea. Things changed, big time. There was a fresh new cast, ready to bring the story to life again – it had gone really, really stale. To be nice about it.

Cast changed, and the story that was told, that had been lost amongst overbearing production values, came to life, once more, in a new and fresh way.

Imagine a traveling troupe of players who toured out of town, three years in the provinces, then at last heading to the capital. Coming into town was a real triumph – a victory parade, premature, but full of life and hope. Then: disaster struck.

The rehearsal dinner, the night before the big opening, ends – badly.

Opening cancelled.

Or – is it?

Three days later the players get a message. The women bring it. They saw him. The player-manager, the one they thought they would never see on stage again, they saw him. And he said, tell them to go ahead of me into the Galilee country.

The real show begins now. That – that was all rehearsal.

Remember what I taught you; remember what you learned. Remember what I showed you, remember what I did – and remember what we did together. You will be doing greater things. For now you must be the good news. Act it out, it’s real. It’s the best story – and the truest – that ever was or shall be.

And whenever you get together, remember me – and proclaim.

Gather, proclaim, celebrate, be transformed, and then go – for I am sending you into the world, to work, to bring life and light and love and leaven, to bring the kingdom of God.

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While it was still dark

In silence she stood near the cross, with the other women, and watched, as the one who had made her whole was broken, as the one who gave her life himself began to die. She heard his last words and saw him close his eyes, and breathe at last his last lonely breath. And then -

While it was still dark,
on the first day of the week,
she went to the tomb.
It had not dawned on her yet
what had changed -

What happened on Easter morning is hard to explain - but it changed absolutely everything.

What we do with what happened - how we change our minds and let our lives be turned around in a new direction - more profoundly tells the meaning of the resurrection than any formula.

From that day forward - from that day forward to this one - life is changed. Not ended.

As we say of the hour of death life is changed, not ended: meaning that death has not the final word, the finality, any more - for Christ is raised, from the dead, and in him, in his raising, all are raised.

With him we are living into a new future - the new possibility that life can have meaning beyond itself, beyond the grave, beyond our circumstances, beyond our individuality; we have life in Christ and in Christ's life we find life.

Nobody fully knows what this means. We only know of it because of the witness to the resurrection by the women and the men who beheld the empty tomb, the risen Lord, and the Ascension - and the coming of the holy Spirit down upon them.

We too wish for the descent of the dove, the power of the Spirit; knowing full well it has meaning beyond our dreams, holds out hope beyond our accomplishment, and fills us with love beyond our capacity for self doubt or remorse, anguish or uncertainty.

Claims on life as we lived it once before are gone; as we live into the resurrection we let go of life - and truly grasp it at last.

In the light of the cross, the alternative - to life as we have known it - is anything but hopelessness. On the contrary! There is every scriptural indication that we are called to change who we are into the kingdom of God.

(Ann Weems, Kneeling in Jerusalem)

Because Christ is risen, we live in a world made new.

Because he is risen, we can live in hope.

Because he is risen, life is not a futile struggle; our efforts have meaning.

Because he is risen, we know that God is with us; he listens to us.

Because he is risen, there can be peace. Those who were enemies can live peaceably together.

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,
the lion shall eat straw like the ox;

(Isaiah 65:25a)

They will not hurt or destroy
on all my holy mountain;
for the earth will be full of the knowledge of the Lord
as the waters cover the sea.

(Isaiah 11:9)

Because Christ is risen, we know that God reigns.

That is what Jesus came to bring us: the peaceable reign of God. SHALOM: peace, joy, wholeness, beauty. Satisfaction in the completion of the task, the fruits of his labors, the work he has done, come together in this moment: the moment of the kingdom of peace, the reign of God in your land, in your voice, in your heart, in your life, in you:

In every movement of the heart, every struggle of the mind, for integrity, justice, creativity, life, love, and beauty, the day has dawned: the new day, the day of the Lord.

This is the day that the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad in it. (Psalm 118:24)

Praise the Lord, who has broken the power of death. Alleluia!
Praise the Lord, who has defeated the depths of darkness. Alleluia!
Praise the Lord, who has triumphed over evil. Alleluia!
Praise the Lord, who has won for us life eternal. Alleluia!
In love we give ourselves to you, holy Lord. Amen!

In joy we worship you,
In hope we find you, O Christ our God.

May we rejoice in your victory, proclaim the good news, and reflect your glory. Amen!


May you know in your life the presence of the risen Lord, the peace of Christ the eternal Word, and the power of his resurrection. May the blessing of God almighty, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, rest upon you today and remain with you always.

(adapted from David Adam, Glimpses of Glory)

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everything has changed

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb …

Going to the tomb, what do people expect? A Sufi sheikh from Lebanon told a story, recently, of a road being built in Syria – and the engineers’ planned route mean they would have to demolish the tomb of a saint, centuries old. So they opened it – and reported the smell of roses. The road was re-routed. This is the story that he told us.

When the Russian saints died, the expectation went, their bodies would not decay – they would not be corrupt. So, in the novel The Brothers Karamazov, when the saintly Father Zossima dies, the people are scandalized: for after four days there is a stink.

When Jesus went to Bethany, to the home of his friends, he arrived after Lazarus died. When he went to the tomb, they warned him: they knew what to expect, a stink. But he called, “Come out!” Out Lazarus came, tottering, still wrapped and banded for the tomb.

What did Mary expect, coming to the tomb, early in the morning, while it was still dark, on that first day of the week?

Thursday at supper they had expected that in the morning Jesus would show himself at last, had they not? For the festival was at hand, Passover, when the true king of God’s people, their redeemer, their liberator, their savior, could show himself. The people would be vindicated, when the Anointed One was revealed.

Friday morning those hopes, those expectations, had been crushed in bitter humiliation. He was crucified. Then all became dark and grim and silent. They expected – the end of the world.

Now, on the first day of the week, what could she expect? What was left but to mourn?

And yet – Jesus overturns all expectations. There is no smell – no roses, no corruption – and the grave clothes are neatly folded, their use forgotten. There is no body lying there.

Something beyond expectation has come to be.

All relationships are altered by his reality; everything is changed by his presence.

Mary! He calls. The good shepherd knows his sheep, and they know his voice.

Rabbouni! She replies. Master!

Their relationship is changing, even as they speak. For the mission of Jesus on the earth is over, completed – God has been glorified in him – and the glorified Christ now must go to his Father.

Not to his father only: he goes to ‘my Father and your Father, my God and your God’.

All relationships have changed. We are now one in Christ, and in Christ one body.

As Jesus prayed, so it has come to be: as he and the Father are one, so are his disciples one, with him, and with each other. So he says ‘my Father and your Father’.

He greets Mary as sister – and he greets her as messenger: Go! Bear the glad tidings.

Alleluia! Christ is risen.

Christ’s messengers go forth and begin to make disciples of all nations.

Peter preaches to the household of Cornelius, a Roman officer. He brings the good news to these Gentiles. There is one God for all, one gospel for all, and peace with God for all, through faith in Christ.

Fear God and do what is right, he tells the gathering. All are justified before God by grace through faith. Jesus is Lord. Reconciliation and restoration to right relationship with the ruler of the universe can now be possible.

Every one who puts their trust in Christ receives this reconciliation, peace with God, forgiveness of sins, and rightness before God, the maker of all, and his son Jesus, the one Lord and judge of all.

Christ’s death and resurrection we celebrate - as those who ate and drank with him in the sacred meal, the witnesses to his resurrection.

We receive light and life, and communion with God, in Christ.

Paul passes on to the Christians at Corinth the good news which he has received: Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures, and was buried; Christ was raised, on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures, and he has appeared to one and to many: to Cephas, to the Twelve, to more than 500; to James, to the Apostles, and to himself.

Christ has died for our sins. Christ has risen from the dead. Christ will come again.

And in him our lives are made whole and right. We receive from him light and life.

This is the good news, the gospel, ‘which is NOW bringing YOU salvation.’

This is the good news, and we bear the glad tidings to the world.

Alleluia! Christ is risen - and everything has changed.




Acts 10: 34-43
Psalm 118: 1-2, 14-24
1 Corinthians 15: 1-11
John 20: 1-18

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"If it's true..."

Jesus Christ our Savior, you have delivered us from sin and death. You have brought with the dawn of this day a new beginning and an empty tomb; grant us strength and humility, love and courage, hospitality and faithfulness, wisdom and compassion, mercy and grace, to enter into life, and to welcome into the new life in Christ the stranger we meet who becomes our brother, the foreigner who becomes our kinsman, the enemy who becomes our friend, the opponent who becomes our teacher, the sorrowful who becomes a well-spring of joy: all the fruits of the Spirit we anticipate may we receive with abundance of grace, through your transforming love. Amen.

If the Resurrection is true, Jesus is true: he is indeed the Son of God, the Savior, the one in whom the fullness of God is pleased to dwell, our best hope of seeing the mind of God and therefore the meaning of the universe; and to know him is to have a relationship with him, not an intellectual proposition to demand our assent, but a living Lord to call for our obedience.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, evil has been vanquished. No longer can the powers of this world – Pilate, Temple guard, the coterie of power brokers – none of them hold sway after all. The real power is in God’s hands, the hands of a Savior.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, the gates of death have been shattered, torn from their hinges – he has walked freely through them. Beyond death there is life, new life in Christ. Baptism, the immersion into the waters of mortality and re-emergence into life, shows us that as we die to sin, we are raised to new life in Him.

If Christ is raised, life means something beyond itself. Our petty purposes and grand schemes, the bumps and slingshot wounds of daily life, the deep disappointments of tragic news and wearing sorrow, come around the compass to a new bearing: the compass-needle of our lives now points beyond ourselves; our true direction is found in Christ.

If it is true that Christ is risen, then Jesus is alive – now. You can get to know him – in the breaking of the bread, the sharing of the cup, the anointing, baptism, prayers and peace; you can get to know him through friend and stranger: his image is all around you.

If it is true that Christ is risen, he is offering us a friendship of transformative power: both stern teacher and careful shepherd, he guides us through the painful metamorphosis of our lives into a new life of sacramental meaning and purpose.

If Christ is risen indeed, then we are right to believe in LIFE against DEATH, a revelation of life that is the opposite of the obsessive vision of death and violence so often purveyed in our worldly world, as if it were the end of the story.

If Christ is risen, then the limits are off. If Christ is risen indeed, LIFE is possible – we can do anything through the One who strengthens us.

If Christ is risen, the life of the world – politics, science, art and music, all of it – matters; it is redeemed, it is transformed, it has value and purpose and honor because God has given life value and purpose and honor through the resurrection of his Son.

If it’s true that Christ is risen, then justice is a given. It is going to happen. And how can we do less than work for justice, when God has given his own Son that we might be free?

For by raising his Son from the dead, God has given all of us new life. God sent his Son into the world – bringing his justice indeed – not to bring it condemnation but to redeem it, not to render it meaningless but to give it meaning. For God gave his Son so that who ever put his trust in Him would not perish – would not be sent down to death and shadow – but would be brought into the light and life and love and laughter and joy of the day that dawns today, the new life in Christ that we celebrate on Easter morning. Death no longer can claim the last word; beyond death is the triumph of the Son of the living God: life everlasting, flowing as a river, in the presence of the Son of the living God.

And we are called to enter the new life in Christ now, today, as we speak, on Easter morning: Christ is alive!

And this present moment is the moment of freedom: we define ourselves as we choose life; we define ourselves as his people, children of the day. We live no longer in darkness, no longer subject to the powers of sin, but in the full light and joy of the Day of the Lord.

This is the Day that the Lord has made – the day when behold! He has made all things new – let us enter into that new day, and the work and the play and the love and the laughter, the burden of sorrow shifted onto the broad shoulders that carried the Cross, the joy of his emerging Kingdom present & effervescent in our hearts and in our lives – this is the Lord’s Day; indeed He is risen: Let us rejoice and be glad in it! Amen.

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Easter Day
Old Testament Reading: Jeremiah 31:1-6
Psalm: Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
New Testament Reading: Acts 10:34-43
Gospel: Matthew 28:1-10

A New Zealand Prayer Book, p. 592-3
John Pritchard, Living Easter Through the Year (SPCK, 2005) p. 33-36.

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