Sermon 03/23/08 Easter Sunday (John 20:1-18)

“A Tale of Nonsensical Joy”
John 20:1-18
Rev. Désirée H. Gold
St. Mark’s United Church of Christ, Baltimore, MD
Sunday, 23 March, 2008
Easter Sunday
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The year 1999 was horrible for me -- the worst year of my life to date. Crisis was followed by calamity. Calamity was followed by tragedy. Tragedy was followed by horror. And so it went. Most of these events were life-changing, not just little problems here and there. When my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer that fall, I laughed. I literally laughed out loud. The fact that I would have to deal with yet another major crisis was simply too ridiculous. All I had left was hysterical laughter.

I am, of course, eternally grateful that my mother survived her cancer and that she is now healthy and happy. I realize, however, that many people are not so lucky.

There are many, many crises besides the scourge of cancer too, and I faced a number of them in 1999. Although 2007 was certainly better than that year, it wasn’t a perfect year. I watched a close friend struggle with the diagnosis of chronic illness. I felt helpless as my sister faced financial difficulties. I ached in those tense days after my best friend’s daughter was born two months premature.

I know many of you have had a hard year too. Several of you have spoken to me about personal difficulties -- heartache, health problems, hunger. We have all been shaken by events around our world: Violence in Baltimore City and elsewhere. The war in Iraq and political unrest in far too many places. The bitter debates that too often occur in campaigns for public office. The fears of an impending economic recession.

We have felt helpless in these personal and worldly struggles. We have been frustrated at the inability to help a family member or to create world peace. We have been saddened or angered by the departure or death of someone we love, and by the violence we see on our city streets. We have ached -- physically, emotionally, spiritually -- as we faced our own illness or the illness of someone we love.

When times get really, really hard like this -- when we experience so much pain that we laugh at the next crisis that comes our way -- it is hard to find hope. It is hard to have faith in God when it seems that our lives -- or the lives of those we love -- are falling apart. We know that not every story has a happy ending. People die of cancer. People we love leave us. Addiction to alcohol and other drugs claims the well-being of many. Chronic illness hurts. Nations are still at war, there are still homeless and hungry people everywhere, the world seems to be going to hell in a handbasket. We live inside Good Friday -- betrayal, desertion, death. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?!”

Then along comes Easter. Easter, with its message tremendous joy, its miracle of love. Jesus, whose death we lamented just two days ago, emerges from the tomb and appears to his most beloved disciple, Mary Magdalene. “I have seen the Lord!” she proclaims. Her unthinkable grief is transformed into unthinkable joy. ...And for more than two thousand years Christ’s followers have celebrated his Resurrection from the dead.

In our churches, Easter Sunday is the most festive worship service of the year -- even more so than Christmas Eve. We pull out all the stops -- at St. Mark’s we have added the blessed gift of live music! Our church is filled with flowers. We put on our very best clothes -- I recently saw two flower-covered Easter bonnets in an antique store and was tempted to buy one and wear it on Easter morning. We will participate in a special communion service this morning -- one that focuses more on the Resurrection than the crucifixion. Oh, and did I mention that we have live music?! We’re pulling out all the stops, going crazy with our Easter celebration.

So, how do we reconcile this? How can we reconcile the pain we know in life with the miracle we celebrate on Easter morning? How can we open our hearts to the hope of Christ’s Resurrection when we spend a lot of our time worrying, grieving, wondering where God is? We want to have faith in Easter -- beyond trusting that we will get to eat chocolate bunnies and colored Easter eggs -- but how do we have faith when we have been crying out to God the rest of the year?

There is no easy answer to this. Even as we cry with Mary, “I have seen the Lord!” -- even as we raise our voices with the glorious words of “Christ the Lord is risen today!” -- we know that the Resurrection of Jesus will not mean an immediate end to all our problems. Most of us have experienced enough Easter mornings to realize that after we leave this place life will still be hard. We are not yet in Paradise.

With these things in mind -- the juxtaposition of Christ’s Resurrection with our own continued suffering -- I wish I could tell you that if you only have faith in this miracle nothing bad will ever happen to you again. But we know that’s not true. The most faithful people, who pray until they are blue in the face, can still experience tragedy, and that doesn’t mean that they didn’t have enough faith or that their prayers were not heard by God. It simply means that we are human beings living on planet Earth, and God is present with us in suffering but does not always keep it from happening. The possible reasons for this are another sermon for another day. For now, let’s just deal with this Easter dilemma.

The simplest answer, I believe, is to take the Easter miracle at face value. No matter how many times I hear the Good Friday scriptures, they still seem real to me, and they still hurt. No matter how many times I hear the story of Mary arriving at Jesus’ tomb, only to find it empty, I cannot make sense of it, and I’m not alone in that. Theologians have argued for millennia about the possible logistics of the Resurrection, and they haven’t come up with much. Despite that, Christians come back to celebrate it year after year, and just as I grieve Christ’s death every year, I am overjoyed at his Resurrection. Even when our own lives do not seem at all miraculous, many of us feel a certain sense of excitement when we hear, for the umpteenth time, that Mary Magdalene has come to the tomb to mourn but found her beloved Jesus alive and well.

Let us, then, accept the Easter miracle for what it is. Just as we are able to be happy for other people when we, ourselves, are unhappy, we can rejoice for those who found Jesus raised on that first Easter morning. The Easter story is more than just something that happened to other people, though. It is our story. Whether or not we are able to feel the presence of God right now, we can turn to the scriptures and at least hear the story. Even if we’re not sure anyone hears our prayers, we can keep praying. Sometimes, even going through the motions can be worshipful.

Finding the strength to hear this most hopeful of all stories, even when we find little cause for hope in our day-to-day lives, can draw us closer to the God whose presence we may question. Jesus was raised from the dead! Halleluiah! Yes, we are still faced with the troubles of human existence, but for this one moment let us rejoice in Mary’s discovery on that first Easter Day.

When we are able to give thanks for a miracle that makes so little sense, we just might begin to allow hope to seep into those other dark places in our hearts. This is not a bad model for living. Yes, for many of us life will be pretty hard. That said, most of us will have little triumphs in the midst of the hard stuff. Use the example of the Easter miracle to find strength to give thanks for all the little miracles that take place for you. When you see the smile on the face of your child or grandchild, be thankful for that. When you get a phone call from an old friend, be thankful for that. When you spend one more day sober, be thankful for that. When you don’t ache quite as much today as you did yesterday, be thankful for that.

Even if you are not sure where or even if God is right now, hear the story of the Easter miracle and drink in the hope. It might not hit you right now, but you may be able to rejoice later. Be thankful for the community of St. Mark’s. Be thankful that you’re alive and here this morning. Find hope, find gratitude in these little things. People, why are you weeping? Take a moment to stop your tears and hear the hope in this story that makes so little sense but contains so much truth.

Now let us pray.