Sermons from Park Hill Congregational UCC Denver, Colorado Rev. Dr. David Bahr [email protected] April 12, 2020 Easter Day “To the Shiny Empire” Matthew 27:59 – 28:10 – Common English Bible Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had carved out of the rock. After he rolled a large stone at the door of the tomb, he went away. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were there, sitting in front of the tomb. The next day, which was the day after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees gathered before Pilate. They said, “Sir, we remember that while that deceiver was still alive, he said, ‘After three days I will arise.’ Therefore, order the grave to be sealed until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people, ‘He’s been raised from the dead.’ This last deception will be worse than the first.” Pilate replied, “You [may] have soldiers for guard duty. Go and make it as secure as you know how.” Then they went and secured the tomb by sealing the stone and posting the guard. After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to look at the tomb. Look, there was a great earthquake, for an angel from the Lord came down from heaven. Coming to the stone, he rolled it away and sat on it. His face was like lightning and his clothes as white as snow. The guards were so terrified of him that they shook with fear and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, “Don’t be afraid. I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He isn’t here, because he’s been raised from the dead, just as he said. Come, see the place where they laid him. Now hurry, go and tell his disciples, ‘He’s been raised from the dead. He’s going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ I’ve given the message to you.” With great fear and excitement, they hurried away from the tomb and ran to tell his disciples. Jesus met them and greeted them. They came and grabbed his feet and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid. Go and tell my brothers that I am going into Galilee. They will see me there.” Here we are again. Another Sunday separated from each other. Instead of saying, gee, isn’t it terrible, I can hear my mother saying, “look on the bright side.” Thank God that we have the internet to keep us connected. Email, and social media like Facebook, and platforms like Zoom have saved the day. I could say, gee, this is terrible. Or listen to my mother offer her wisdom to look on the sunny side of the street. Look at all the silver linings. Families eating dinner together. Less pollution. Many clergy colleagues are reporting increased engagement. Like them, I’m aware of our expanded reach, with people worshiping with us from their homes in Ohio, Virginia, Utah, Louisiana, North Carolina and more… Last Sunday at 10 am there were nearly 100 devices connected – and behind their screens were individuals, couples, and families. (Send me some examples of silver linings you have seen.) Instead of saying, gee, isn’t it terrible that we aren’t gathered together, I could remind us what the first Easter looked like. The first Easter took place while the disciples were behind locked doors at home. The disciples were devastated. Jesus had just been executed, specifically by means of crucifixion, which, as I’ve said before, was a very effective way to send a message to others who might be inspired to take up Jesus’ cause of liberation for the poor and freedom for the captives. It would have been dangerous for the disciples to be out of their houses, so, to protect their families, fearing they could be next, the disciples sat at home behind closed doors. Today, as we sit alone in our homes, Rev. Emily Heath tweeted, Yeah, this Easter, “we’re keeping things pretty Biblical.” The explanation that this year we’re just “keepin’ things biblical” is meant to help us cope with loss: meaning, it’s OK to let go of extraneous, though cherished, Easter traditions; for example, the pancake breakfast before worship and the egg hunt afterward. It means it’s OK to skip the pungent smell of lilies and daffodils and hydrangeas as we walk into crowded sanctuaries, looking for any places left to sit. All the things we associate with Easter. The energy and excitement. We should feel good about “keepin’ things biblical.” “Should” feel good. Should. In the age of coronavirus, we’re all grief-counselors in training. Perhaps like me, your first instinct to someone who talks about what they’re missing is to try to lessen their pain. For example, “I miss my friends.” So, you might tell a child, “But honey, we’re so lucky that we’re not sick. And you’ll get to see your friends again soon enough.” Notice: Deflecting the pain – “be happy it’s not you” – and making a promise you can’t keep – how soon is soon? Thank goodness for all those professional grief counselors who are helping us lay practitioners come up with more helpful responses, such as “I know. I’m sad too. It’s a big loss.” And so, taking that advice, I love my mom, but I’m going to stop deflecting about hidden blessings. Forget my comment about gratitude for social media. Forget my comment about trying to find the silver linings. Forget my comment about just “keepin’ things biblical.” No. Let’s be real. Do you wish we could be gathered in the sanctuary for worship today? Organ, trumpets, flowers, kids on their hands and knees looking for candy? “I know. I’m sad too. It’s a big loss.” (share how you feel with me) This is the part of Christian faith that is harder to practice. I don’t mean this as a judgment, but for most Christians, the messages of Christmas and Easter are what really matter. “Christ Is Born and Now He’s Alive.” Sure, somewhere in there are stories about Jesus crucified, dead, and buried. But, today is Easter and now he’s alive, so don’t worry about that. That’s why we get sermon titles like: “It’s All Good.” “Move On.” “Get Over It.” Or the two-part special: “Move On and Get Over It Already.” Easter sermons are supposed to be variations of “Be Happy.” (what's your favorite example of an Easter sermon title?) But today, this particular Easter Sunday, feels like a repeat of Saturday. A Ground Hog Day of Holy Saturday over and over again. They waited. They stayed at home. They grieved, some mix of uncertainty, mixed with some fear. They waited. They stayed at home… That’s why the coronavirus is in many ways a gift (?), or least an invitation, to examine the meaning of Easter more deeply. What’s really important? We’re paying attention today to what Easter means for us in a way we have never had to before. On the sunny side of the street, that’s a good thing. One question we can ask is: what Easter is for. Maria Swearingen, a pastor in Washington, DC, reminds us, “Easter does not exist to make an Empire look better or shinier or healthier or stronger.”[1] As we all know, a few weeks ago the president wanted to see churches packed on Easter.[2] Understandable and predictable. It’s all about projecting an image that he has everything under control. To use Easter to make everything look shinier, healthier, and stronger. To forget that people are still suffering, crucified by the lack of preparation for a pandemic, so his numbers don’t look bad, victims of a health care system designed for the privilege, not for the masses who are dying – disproportionately people of color. The president wanted Easter with its organs and trumpets, or rather praise bands, and pretty dresses to display the well-being of systems of domination and inequity. Empire. Smiles and normalcy to cover up the violence and incompetence. To tell everyone to move on and get over it already. So, the question might be asked of us, what exactly are we missing today? I’m grieving the loss of our being together in person, but I might also have to ask: Have we fallen for the trappings of a triumphant Easter to cover over those still being crucified? I read some verses this morning you might not have heard before – at least not on Easter morning. Have you ever heard about the time in between the burial of Jesus and the discovery of the empty tomb? They have an enhanced meaning this morning too. “After sundown, the high priests and Pharisees arranged a meeting with Pilate, the Roman Governor. They said, “Sir, we just remembered that while that liar was still alive, he announced, ‘After three days I will be raised.’ We’ve got to seal that tomb until the third day. Otherwise his disciples will come and steal the corpse and go around saying, ‘He’s risen from the dead.’ Then we’ll be worse off than before, the final deceit surpassing the first.” Pilate told them he would provide a guard, so they went out and secured the tomb.” Why? To protect the powerful. To project an image of control. But that’s exactly when Easter happened. Easter happened in between the burial and the empty tomb. While the Empire guarded the tomb, the one being guarded was transformed from death to life. I love that. I love how resurrection is subversive. Meant to overturn the power of Empire, not to prop it up and make it look shinier. That is the meaning of Easter. And resurrection is happening even now. In our waiting. In between my sadness that we aren’t gathered in person and my gratitude that we can be gathered together like this. In between the depth of my appreciation for health care workers and my profound sadness at the preventable loss of life – resurrection is happening even now. (do you have examples?) In between my admiration for those willing to speak truth and my disgust for an Empire that would sacrifice its own citizens to make things look shinier – resurrection is happening even now. While the Empire acts like fools and plays dress up as guards at the tomb door, the ones guarded are being transformed from death to life. Yes, resurrection is subversive. Out of their control. But, of course, it’s also out of our control, too. For example, as we gather on this unique Easter morning to express our hopes, we’re not quite sure what we are supposed to hope for. The health and well-being of our neighbors, for certain. But for things to go back to normal? Soon. However, even if we knew when, we’re not sure what normal will be? Or more importantly, what do we want normal to be? For certain we can “take a hard pass” on letting Easter be a tool of the Empire, for everything to look like its back to normal and business as usual. In future years we’ll look back and never forget Easter 2020 and marvel at the desire to sacrifice people so things could look better, shinier, for Easter. But we’ll also remember that this particular Easter we stayed at home to demand healthier and stronger people, the ones whom Jesus especially loved. For whom he was willing to sacrifice his life. That’s the meaning of Easter. Just so we’re “keeping things biblical.” Does that make this particular Easter different from any other? In some ways, nothing is different. There’s always an Empire looking out for itself. So, that may make the location of Easter worship different this year, but our calling is the same. We gather on Easter to remember – and proclaim to the shiny Empire: Love is stronger than hate Goodness is stronger than evil Light is stronger than darkness Life is stronger than death[3] Please turn to the litany in your bulletin: Litany[4] One: Because the world is filled with fear, we ask God to strengthen our courage. All: Because the world is drowning in lies, we won’t stop demanding truth. One: Because the world is sick of despair, we choose joy – for ourselves and to share. All: Because the world is not fair to everyone, we won’t forget the work of justice. One: Because the world is under judgment, we accept and offer one another mercy. All: Because the world is poor and starving, we will share our bread. One: Because the world will die without it, we will persist in love. And goodness. And light. Christ is Risen! Christ is Risen Indeed! [1] https://twitter.com/MariaSwearingen/status/1242835986075324417 [2] https://www.cnbc.com/2020/03/24/coronavirus-response-trump-wants-to-reopen-us-economy-by-easter.html [3] Archbishop Desmond Tutu [4] Adapted from Carol White
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