Fear and Joy

A Sermon preached on April 12, 2020 Easter Day at St. Augustine’s, WiesbadenActs 10:34-43, Colossians 3:1-4, Matthew 28:1-10

I know you are all feeling a little disappointed about Easter this year, both at church and at home. We can’t celebrate it in the style we are used to: a full church, beautiful music, the flowering of the Cross, a festive Eucharist and then after the service extended fellowship time and the happy, smiling faces of our children as they hunt for and find Easter eggs. We can’t have all of our family over, or visit them or our friends, for an Easter dinner. Well I miss that too and I promise that we will have a proper “second Easter” of our own when we are able to reopen the church building. 

But you know, you’re in very good company. None of that happened at the very first Easter. Mary Magdalene, the other Mary, and in one account Salome, were not hunting for Easter eggs in that garden. Nor did they find what they were looking for, the tomb was empty. And the disciples did not break out into cries of Hallelujah and sing triumphant songs. When the women came to tell them what they had found, and in Mary’s case who they had met, they just didn’t believe them.  For the disciples, what we now call Easter was a confusing, frightening experience. Many of them were in hiding for fear of their lives: locked away for their safety. Others were simply still sad and depressed and unable to process what had happened. It took quite a while before they realized what had come about. And of course, no one witnessed the moment of the Resurrection! All the Biblical accounts are about what happened the morning after. What they all have in common is an empty tomb, the significant role of women, and as emotions, fear and amazement. The first Gospel, Mark’s, actually ends with the words “So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.” (Mark 16:8)

I don’t think the disciples started feeling really joyful until they had met Jesus again: in a locked room in Jerusalem, later in their home region of Galilee. And it probably wasn’t until Pentecost, once they had recovered from the second shock of Jesus leaving them again at the Ascension and then filled with the gift of God’s Spirit, that they were really able to celebrate and have a party. I hope we don’t have to wait that long. 

In fact, if we look at Matthew’s account of the Resurrection, the dominant emotion is fear. Out of fear at the appearance of an angel the guards shook and became like dead men. The women are told twice “do not be afraid,” once by the angel and once by Jesus when he appears. When the women leave the tomb, it is quickly – hurried - and with very mixed emotions, with fear and great joy. 

Why is this? For one thing, all that accompanies God’s mighty act in resurrecting Jesus is quite frightening: we have an earthquake, we have an angel from the Lord whose whole appearance was like lightning, and we have an empty tomb. The women’s first worry is that someone has stolen Jesus’ body. That there will be nothing for them to remember him by, and no place to go to remember him at. 

The second reason for fear is when they actually meet Jesus. I know that the angel has told them that Jesus has been raised from the dead. But being told that, and then literally running into someone who you saw die cruelly just two days ago, are two different things. I would be afraid. Their next reaction is to fall to the ground, take hold of his feet, and worship him. At this moment they begin to realize that Jesus is of God. And that is frightening too. All through the Old Testament people got pretty frightened if God made a personal appearance. The presence of God was considered to be fatal for mortals. That has changed. The presence of God is not life-threatening, it is life-saving. And so, Jesus tells them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’ (Matthew 28:10)

And I think that is the final reason for fear at this time. Fear about what is in store for them – all the disciples, male and female, named and anonymous. Jesus has plans for them. Matthew’s Gospel ends with what we call the Great Commission (Matthew 28:16-20), when Jesus tells the disciples to go and “make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.” That is a pretty frightening task, when you had just seen your teacher and friend executed for going around Israel and teaching everyone to obey his commandments. And now they are supposed to go into the whole world and do this – which for them meant a world full of the Romans who had killed Jesus. Thankfully however, the last words of Matthew’s Gospel are not a command, but a promise: “And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” That is the promise to take away their fear: I am with you now and always, in this life and eternal life, in this place and in all places. 

And what about us? We have genuine reasons to be afraid as well. The Corona virus is dangerous and deadly for some. Being home alone is frightening. Phone calls and the internet are not a full replacement for real human contact. People are losing their jobs and their businesses and are fearful for their livelihood. While on the one hand, this crisis has led to an explosion of solidarity and active love, it has also further exacerbated some of the existing fault lines in society and between societies; the selfishness, the abuse of this emergency to maintain power, the neglect of those in great need in refugee camps. We were not doing enough to help them anyway, and now the little we were doing is put on hold. And at a time like this, we can’t even go into our churches to pray and worship. 

The message of the resurrection is of course that we don’t need to. I know that’s a dangerous message, and yes, I do want to see you back here again, and yes there is great value in worshipping and learning in community! But the risen and ascended Jesus is always with us, to the end of the age. He can be prayed to anywhere; he is always present and most of all when we are afraid. Jesus has shown us a God who is not to be feared, but whose essence is love. And following that example and teaching, we have proven to be a community that can sustain and comfort and support one another even when apart.

The other big reason for being afraid for the disciples was, I said, the task they were being given. On that first Easter Day, God started something new, a new world was begun, and the disciples were commissioned to bring new way of life to everyone. This is our task too, and it is a frightening one. This crisis has made even clearer how much we need a new way of life and what fault lines need to be healed. The world will not be a better place when this is over, but we can make it one, by following the call to teach Jesus’ great commandment to love God, and our neighbor as ourselves. 

We celebrate Easter for what happened on this day. In conquering death, God took away all real reasons for fear: “Do not be afraid,” the angel says, “for he has been raised.” And then the angel says, “go and tell” and Jesus says “go and tell” and I say to you go and tell everyone that Christ is risen and go and live that risen, joyful, loving eternal life.

Amen. Alleluia.

Resurrection Life

A Sermon preached on March 29, 2020 Lent V at St. Augustine’s, Wiesbaden

Ezekiel 37:1-14, John 11: 1-45

I know that today’s readings, one about a valley full of dry bones, the other ending with a 4-day old shrouded dead body walking out of a tomb, might sound more like scenes from a horror film, and in fact the Ezekiel reading is one that is recommended for a service at Halloween, but both passages are signs of hope and reassurance. And those are commodities we can use a lot right now! 

Ezekiel is speaking to God’s people in exile. They are like dry bones scattered and left after a battle. They feel drained of true life, bereft of a future, and without any connection to God and one another. How can God be with them without access to the Temple – destroyed and left in ruins back in Jerusalem. How can they be in community scattered across Babylonian territory and other places of exile? What future do they have under foreign dominion? Ezekiel’s vision is to encourage them in their exile and to motivate them to return. God’s spirit – the same word as breath or wind – is not tied to a particular country or place or building for that matter. It is everywhere: “Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” (Ezekiel 37:9) Like Adam in the second creation story, who only comes alive when God breathes into him, the re-created Israel is brought back to life by the breath of God. In Ezekiel’s dramatic vision the word of God brings the bodies back together again – reconnects them. But the restored bodies – the resurrected nation – are only truly alive when filled with the Spirit of God. 

Ezekiel does not just want the people to return to Israel and carry on as before, he wants them to start something new and better. God’s word brings hope for a new and better future.  This is the hope for a fresh start that God has already granted in the previous chapter (36:26-28) “A new heart I will give you, and a new spirit I will put within you…. I will put my spirit within you, and make you follow my statutes and be careful to observe my ordinances. Then you shall live in the land that I gave to your ancestors; and you shall be my people, and I will be your God.” I hope that the idea of re-creation, of a fresh start speaks to us as well, and I’ll come back to it. 

From Ezekiel’s metaphorical vision, we come to the seventh and greatest sign in John’s account of Jesus’s life and ministry: the raising of Lazarus. As John makes clear, this is not just about Jesus restoring a beloved friend to life, although his tears and visible emotions make clear that Lazarus, Mary and Martha are his friends, that he loves them, and that he shares their pain and sorrow. It is also supposed to be a sign: "This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God's glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it," Jesus says. (John 11:4) Lazarus is brought back to life, God is glorified in this sign, and Jesus’ intimate connection with God, the father who always hears him, is demonstrated. But that is not all. Lazarus will die again – if the chief priest had got his way, he would have died again very soon as we read just a few verses later: “So the chief priests planned to put Lazarus to death as well, since it was on account of him that many of the Jews were deserting and were believing in Jesus.” (John 12:10-11) 

Jesus’ sign also points beyond Lazarus to his own death and resurrection, that event we will celebrate, at home, in 2 weeks’ time. And – like Ezekiel’s vision – it points to the even bigger promise of new life, or re-creation for all of God’s people. For the people of Jesus’ time, resurrection was not the miraculous restoration of life and health to an individual, but God’s gift of a new and everlasting life in a completely renewed creation[1]. This is the “resurrection on the last day” that Martha says she believes in. This is a vision we share as Christians – the new heaven and the new earth are the focus of the Book of Revelation. But for us as Christians, the promise of resurrection is also much more immediate: “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus says. (11:25) That’s not just something for the far future, it’s for now: I am, not I will be. What does a resurrection life look like then?

It is a life of hope now. Like the Israelites in exile, like Mary and Martha in their mourning and yes like Lazarus in his tomb, it is a life with God in Christ right now. Whether we are in the physical isolation of our homes, or in a hospital room being treated, we are not alone. God is always with us and our common identity as a community of the people of God connects us, albeit invisibly. A much more reliable connection by the way, than Zoom, Skype and Co.! 

A resurrection life is also a life of hope for the future. I’ve seen a lot of articles and blogs describing and discussing how this experience might change us for the better, as long as we don’t try and go back to the status quo. What does the pandemic show us? I mentioned some things in my weekly email: The importance of solidarity and cooperation – no one country, no one scientist can solve this. The key role of sacrifice and selflessness – temporarily giving up our freedom of movement to save lives. The value of community and connection in maintaining morale, in supporting one another, especially those whose health – physical or emotional, wellbeing or livelihood is impacted by the crisis.  I’ve seen so many positive images: the Italians singing every night on their balconies, the doctors and nurses with their signs: “we are staying here for you, you stay at home for us,” and yes even the satellite pictures showing industrial zones with no smog, the clear and clean rivers, the reduction in air travel. Things won’t stay the way they are right now, but let’s make sure they don’t go back to the way they were before.

This sentiment is beautifully expressed in the very hopeful poem called “And the people stayed at home” by retired teacher, Kitty O’Meara:

“And the people stayed home. And read books, and listened, and rested, and exercised, and made art, and played games, and learned new ways of being, and were still. And listened more deeply. Some meditated, some prayed, some danced. Some met their shadows. And the people began to think differently.

And the people healed. And, in the absence of people living in ignorant, dangerous, mindless, and heartless ways, the earth began to heal.

And when the danger passed, and the people joined together again, they grieved their losses, and made new choices, and dreamed new images, and created new ways to live and heal the earth fully, as they had been healed.”

And finally, a resurrection life is one lived in the knowledge and assurance of that final promise, “Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” (11:26) We hope beyond death. “Do you believe this?” Jesus asks Martha. Yes, Lord, she says – even before he proves it by his sign in raising Lazarus. And do you believe this?

Amen.

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[1] Mark Barrett, The Wind, the Fountain and the Fire, p. 175