Not the Same Anymore: The Last Laugh

But Peter, standing with the eleven, raised his voice and addressed them, “You that are Israelites, listen to what I have to say: Jesus of Nazareth, a man attested to you by God with deeds of power, wonders, and signs that God did through him among you, as you yourselves know— this man, handed over to you according to the definite plan and foreknowledge of God, you crucified and killed by the hands of those outside the law. But God raised him up, having freed him from death, because it was impossible for him to be held in its power. For David says concerning him,

‘I saw the Lord always before me, for he is at my right hand so that I will not be shaken;therefore my heart was glad, and my tongue rejoiced; moreover my flesh will live in hope.For you will not abandon my soul to Hades, or let your Holy One experience corruption.You have made known to me the ways of life; you will make me full of gladness with your presence.’“Fellow Israelites, I may say to you confidently of our ancestor David that he both died and was buried, and his tomb is with us to this day. Since he was a prophet, he knew that God had sworn with an oath to him that he would put one of his descendants on his throne. Foreseeing this, David spoke of the resurrection of the Messiah, saying, ‘He was not abandoned to Hades, nor did his flesh experience corruption.’This Jesus God raised up, and of that all of us are witnesses.
(Acts 2:14a, 22-32, NRSV)

Grace and peace from God, our Father, and from our resurrected Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.

Welcome to Holy Hilarity Sunday!

Celebrating laughter and joy on this second Sunday of Easter is actually a long and very rich tradition in the church. There is quite a history of congregations celebrating this day, sharing jokes and fun stories, and engaging in pranks on each other.

The tradition arises from early theologians, where they reflected on the resurrection of Jesus from the dead as a huge practical joke that God played on Satan. They called it the risus paschalis, meaning the Easter laugh.

So, today, it seems especially appropriate for us to laugh and to have fun. To celebrate the pure joy of Easter in a fun way the week after we’ve celebrated it in a glorious way. To mix faith and humor and to stir them both deeply into our lives so that we might live more fully into being and sharing ourselves as joyful people of the resurrection.

This wasn’t always the case. This being joyful people of the resurrection. In those first hours and days after Jesus’ resurrection, even after Mary Magdalene had announced to the disciples that she had seen the Lord, laughter and joy and poking fun wasn’t necessarily on the minds of Jesus’ followers. They were afraid. They had gathered together in fear, not sure what would the authorities might do to them as possible accomplices to Jesus, this enemy of the state.

And, then, one can only wonder at what must have a level of bewilderment and disbelief and, yes, still fear, after hearing Mary’s announcement. Not knowing entirely what was happening. And whether what Mary told them was, in fact, true.

So, they continued to hide in fear behind locked doors.

It is there, in their fear and in their darkness, that Jesus seeks them out and meets them. Exactly where they are. Offering peace in place of fear. Offering assurance in the midst of their doubt.

It is at that point, after Mary’s witness to them and after they finally experience Jesus themselves that they, too, could fully experience joy.

But that wasn’t all there was to be. Because, it was at this point--after they had experienced the living and resurrected Jesus--that he sent them out on a mission. It is noted in our John text. It is also the story that precedes our text in Acts.

Did you hear that in both the John and Acts readings? That, before Jesus sent them out, he breathed into them the Holy Spirit?

It may seem weird to hear this at this point. Usually, from a liturgical standpoint, we reserve the outpouring (or inbreathing) of the Holy Spirit for Pentecost. And, yet, here we have it on the second Sunday of Easter--in our first reading, which is an extension of Peter’s sermon after the events of the Pentecost, after the Spirit has been poured out on the disciples gathered together, waiting. After they have begun to speak in the native languages of those listening. Even after those very listeners have begun to question the disciples’ legitimacy.

It is at this point that Peter stands up. And, just like Mary did, he witnesses. He connects the dots for them. He tells them everything that has happened and helps them to more fully understand what this means. That everything that has happened has been part of God’s plan. It’s not a second chance or God’s Plan B. It has been what God has intended for all time. That God would send God’s Son, proving to them through miracles and wonders and signs who Jesus was. That God knew that Jesus would be crucified. That God would raise him up. That God would free him from the “pain” of death. (This is the best translation for this phrase. And that the word used for pain is the same word associated with the pain of childbirth.) God would free Jesus from the “pain” of death by raising him up. It’s almost as though God was birthing a new world. Turning the world upside down. Is it any wonder then, if you remember our resurrection story from last week, that it began with an earthquake?

With Christ’s resurrection, God disrupts the world.  It is not the same anymore.

This is what happens when God disturbs business as usual. Nothing is the same anymore. This is what the gospel does. It tells the story of God bringing something new into being, something that challenges the “world,” the way things are. It is the same disruption that happens when the Gospel is preached. When we, just like Mary and Peter, witness to the Good News. Because it is then that Jesus appears and is experienced and nothing is the same anymore.

Over these weeks of Easter, this is what we will be looking at. Each week for six weeks, we will be looking at the Acts texts, which during Easter, will replace in our readings that from the Hebrew scripture. We will see how, in hindsight, God’s people witness how God disrupts the world. How God intrudes. We will see what it means for Jesus’ followers and for us to share this witness. We will watch and learn right along with those characters who inhabit the pages of Acts. That second half of the Luke gospel that begins by fixing all of our attention and expectation upon God, even as we see that people will also play a part in God’s objectives. We will see how they respond, as people who watch for God’s lead. Not as puppets, but as God’s agents, prompted to tell what they have seen. To report and to share evidence of the new realities that God has brought about through Jesus. New realities that are rooted in the past, that exist in present realities, and that connect us to the future by pointing toward the salvation that God will ultimately accomplish.

And, perhaps, just perhaps, in our listening and learning, we, here at Grace and Glory, might discover--or rediscover--the availability of God’s salvation or God’s commitment to renew and restore right here in Goshen, Kentucky. That we might see, in our midst, our resurrected Lord present, welcoming us into a new life, a resurrected life. A life of joy and laughter, a life of love and freedom, a life of peace and wholeness, a life together with him as part of the body of Christ.

That is the reality of our experience of a salvation from a disruptive God, for whom, with the resurrection nothing will ever be the same anymore. That is the basis for our joy. That is the basis for our laughter. That is why we celebrate Holy Hilarity Sunday.

And that is why we, and not death or the devil, have the last laugh.

Amen.

Preached April 23, 2017, at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY

Second Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:14a, 22-32; Psalm 16; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

The Faithfulness of God

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. (John 20:1-18 NRSV)

Why on earth do we do this? These Three Days? The meal and footwashing and holy communion of Maundy Thursday. The journey to the crucifixion of Jesus on the cross on Good Friday. The wandering tonight from the new fire to the water to this place where we have heard some the stories of our faith, for some of us, stories we have grown up hearing and knowing and loving, and then the meal, holy communion. Why on earth do we do all of this?

For an answer, we must begin with our gospel lesson tonight, our reading from John.

It is early in the morning on that first day of the week after Jesus’ death. After his internment. It is before light. Still dark. 

Mary has come to the tomb. Why? This gospel writer doesn’t tell us. Other gospels suggest that the women had gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body. If you recall, Jesus was buried after the beginning of the Sabbath and there simply hadn’t been time to properly anoint his body, to fully prepare it for burial as was required under Jewish burial laws. 

Perhaps this was why Mary had gone there, in the early light, by herself. We simply don’t know. 

What we do know, however, is that when she arrived, perhaps just as the light was beginning to break, she saw that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance to the Jesus’ tomb. 

I wonder what she was thinking at that moment. Our lesson tells us that she never went inside the tomb. I wonder why not. Is is possible she thought there might be grave-robbers inside? After all, we know that this was a common problem then. Or, perhaps, it was just too dark, that even if she had gone inside she wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway. Or maybe, just maybe, the thought of seeing Jesus’ body there--lifeless--was simply too much. Too hard to take. Too real to witness.

She had been there when Jesus had died. Standing at a distance with the other women, after the rest of the disciples had fled. She had seen him die. And with it, her hopes and her dreams.  

What had she felt that day and the next? Grief and sadness? Despair and hopelessness? Bewilderment and confusion? Fearful? Perhaps, all of these emotions.

That week for me in 1992 had started like most others. I had a busy life. I was a part-time church musician and, so, had started out the week on Sunday playing for two worship services, then, spending the afternoon doing laundry and getting myself and my son ready for another week of work and school. Monday came. And the week seemed pretty normal, busy for us. But that was nothing new. It was normal, until the next night. Until that Tuesday night.

On that night, I got a call from my mother. She was calling to let me know that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. This woman, who was the rock of our family. Who had carried our family through the nearly impossible grief and sadness of my father’s early death. This woman, who had always been such an example for me of strength and faith and trust. Diagnosed with cancer.

But, it didn’t stop there. Within 24 hours, I had another call. This time from my older sister. Another source of strength for me as I had witnessed her in her late twenties fight cancer and win, we thought. Just weeks away from that 5 year remission mark and the title of “cancer free.” She was calling to tell me that she, too, had cancer. Once again. That it had returned.

It is these kinds of moments when it can simply feel as though your whole world is crashing down around you. When you are blinded by the grief and sadness. By the sense of despair and hopelessness. By all of the bewilderment and confusion. By the fear. Nothing makes sense anymore. It feels as though you are simply floundering in the darkness. 

Just like Mary that early morning on the first day of the new week.

And, then, just like Mary, you hear your name called by God. “Karleen, do you remember? Do you remember the story of creation? How I brought wholeness and life out of the chaos and darkness? 

Do you remember? Do you remember the story of Noah? How I brought a new world out of the brokenness and sin of the old? How when you see a rainbow you can remember my promise that, never again, would a flood destroy the whole earth?

Do you remember? Do you remember how I delivered my people Israel out of slavery and brought them to new life in the land of milk and honey?

Do you remember? Do you remember how in your baptism I delivered you from sin and death to new life among my people, just as Lacey tonight has been brought to new life in Christ? 

Do you remember? Do you remember my promise that in this bread and wine I am present here and now and forever?

Do you remember? That every time we have feel surrounded by whatever darkness it is we cannot seem to see the end of, God calls our name. And, then, we remember. We remember that God is faithful. Throughout all of the arc of salvation history and the short blip of our own lives, God has been and continues to be faithful. 

No, it doesn’t mean that there has always been healing. Or that everything has gone the way we wanted. But what we remember, time and time again, is God faithfully at work. Bringing new life out of death. Light out of darkness. Order out of the chaos.

This is why we do this. These Three Days. This is why on earth we do this. 
So that, in those darkest moments, we might, like Mary, remember. We might remember God’s faithfulness.

And like Mary, respond. Saying “Rabbouni” and go out and witness to all the world, proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord!”

Amen.

Preached at Grace and Glory Lutheran Church, Goshen, KY, on April 15, 2017.
Easter Vigil (Year A).
Readings: Genesis 1:1-2:4a; Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18, 8:6-18, 9:8-13; Exodus 14:10-31, 15:20-21; Isaiah 55:1-11; Daniel 3:1-29; Romans 6:3-11; John 20:1-18.