Sermons from St. Paul’s Episcopal Church
Fourth Sunday of Easter 2006
The Rev. Ralph Carskadden
Here we are at the fourth Sunday of Easter. Of Easter – note that.
Back when I was in Jr. High and High School, being raised as a devout Lutheran, Easter was a day. It was a day for Easter lilies and Sunday School pageants and special music by the church choir. Back then Communion was celebrated only on the first Sunday of the month – and if Easter happened to fall on a first Sunday, Communion was put off until the next week so as not to interfere with the kid’s performance or the Senior Choir’s anthems.
By the time I headed to college in the late 1950’s we Lutherans discovered that a major feast like Easter was too big for just one day – we recognized it had what was called an “octave,” in other words we celebrated Easter for (eight days) two Sundays and the weekdays in between. Lutherans didn’t know the Episcopal term “low Sunday” for the Octave but the lilies and the parish choir were usually on life support by that second Sunday
I can’t remember if it was in the 60’s or 70’s that the concept of Eastertide as a 50 day long celebration became the norm but with that change came the challenge for musicians and liturgy planners to broaden the sense of celebration across seven weeks. Altar guilds had to revise their flower budgets, solicit more donations, so that the church could remain looking festive. Those who were deacons had to remember to say or sing double alleluias when they dismissed the congregation at the end of the liturgy.
Not only did the Eastertide celebration extend over fifty days, the new prayer book and revised rites taught us that Easter actually began earlier than we had thought! Now there was a Vigil to contend with which could begin anytime after the sun set on Saturday, Easter Eve.
The reclamation of the ancient Paschaltide, the Fifty Days of Easter; the recovery of the glorious Great Vigil of Easter and its connection to baptism; the linking of Easter Day and Pentecost, the fiftieth day of Easter; all have been important and exciting work.
But as the externals of Eastertide Christian worship have been changing much of the inner message from my childhood has seemed to remain mostly the same. The focus was, and has continued to be on immortality, the good news that death need not be the end of life, the personal hope of everlasting life.
For a number of years I have felt a certain growing discomfort with that “everlasting-life-for- individual-believer” focus – I mean that makes the Easter message a kind of eschatological fire insurance policy – you know, something that you don’t need now, something you will take out of the file when it is needed – namely when we (or someone dear to us) die.
This past Holy Week I served as presider at the Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Great Vigil rites at Cross of Christ Lutheran Church in Bellevue. Their Vigil (quite wonderful story telling and singing) was Saturday night. So Easter Day I slept in and came to participate in the beautiful 10:30AM Second Mass of Easter here at St. Paul’s.
When I got home I sat down to read the editorial section of the paper and found Pastor Anthony Robinson’s excellent article “Easter is about life here and now”. In it he quoted theologian Harvey Cox’s insights into Easter (Cox has a new book out “When Jesus Came to Harvard”). It was as if cosmic lights were turned on in my heart, my mind and my soul.
Two quotes from Cox eventually brought me to my feet, literally, and let me share them with you:
(1) “Stories of raising the dead in the Old Testament did not have to do with immortality. They are about God’s justice. They did not spring up from a yearning for life after death, but from the conviction that ultimately a truly just God simply had to vindicate the victims of the callous and the powerful.”
(2) “How Jesus died is very important. In the biblical texts he is not just described as ‘dead’ but as ‘crucified’. There is a difference. To restore a dead person to life might be seen to strike a blow against mortality. But to restore a crucified man to life means to strike an equally decisive blow at the system that caused his wrongful death.” Robinson, in his own comments went on to say that the resurrection of Jesus “remains a protest against the tyrannical and the unjust – it is a subversive memory.”
Ah, if we then look at the scripture readings of Eastertide in light of the theme of God’s justice, if we realize that the stories in the gospel and Book of Acts are part of the Church’s “subversive memory” then the work which falls to us during this season is more than keeping flowers and choirs on life support – or counting the alleluias!!! Yes, it is in part about personal faith, immortality and everlasting life, and it is also (perhaps more importantly) about new life here and now as Mother Melissa reminded us last Sunday. In her sermon on the Third Sunday of Easter she spoke of ghosts of guilt and fear, regret and nostalgia which can haunt us, preventing us from boldly engaging the present, the time and opportunities of this moment and thus miss moving into God’s future.
This past Monday I was weighing the pros and cons of walking in the immigrants’ rights march. The ghosts Mother Melissa referred to began to speak up. The pessimistic ghost of rational reasoning said “why bother, who will notice, you are Anglo, this isn’t your concern, after all you just had cataract surgery and no one expects you to risk the uncertainty of a crowd- you could get hurt and end up blind!” Then the ghost of privilege and prejudice spoke “Heh, gays are still fighting for recognition and their rights – let millions of macho Hispanic immigrants become voting citizens and you’ll have to start your battle all over again.” As the morning progressed additional ghostly voices were to be heard – some on CNN.
But there were other voices, those of Harvey Cox, Mother Melissa, Anthony Robinson, and Jesus. I reflected on Jesus’ willingness to lay aside privilege and life itself to show God’s love; I reflected on God’s power to raise him from death and the ongoing work for justice and peace. I read again today’s passage from the First letter of John and felt convicted by it: “How does God’s love abide in anyone who has the world’s goods and sees a brother or sister in need and yet refuses help?” And I knew I had to walk in solidarity with thousands of sisters and brothers who were risking life and limb, jobs and homes, possible deportation and breakup of families to give a face to the faceless, a voice to the voiceless, to become visible, to be recognized and accepted as contributing members of this city and nation. As a citizen of the wealthiest nation on earth, as a male member of the dominant culture, how can I be a recipient of God’s love, a vessel of God’s Spirit, a member of Christ’s Body and refuse to respond to sisters and brothers in need?
I got a ride to Rainier Avenue and Dearborn, walked to St. Peter’s and there was delighted to meet both of our bishops, both of our shepherds, Vincent and Nedi. I walked with them and Jerry Shigaki, Ethnic Missioner and Antony and Hisako and Pete, Joy and others from the diocese. And we walked surrounded by a vast, vast sea of brown, black, yellow, and red faces. (There were many white marchers but the vast number of participants were people of color) And I felt alive to the present, alive to the hope for justice, alive to God’s future, to the reign of the Holy One who calls those who are hidden to come forth, to step into the light of day- to risk being seen and known for the sake of justice as my brothers and sisters of color were doing.
I heard the voice of the Risen One who spoke to the bystanders at the raising of Lazarus, call to me: “help unbind others as you have been unbound”. And I felt joyously alive.
It is the Fourth Sunday of Easter – we are at the half way mark in a season which annually reaffirms life in the face of death and this is also the season in which we celebrate the Good News that God’s righteousness and justice are extended to all and will prevail – this news is not, as Cox and Robinson remind us, the private property of Christians. This is good news, really good news for all, and it is too good to be contained by a day or an octave or even fifty days or fifty days with a vigil. Indeed, the Church teaches us that every Sunday is an Easter – and as such a celebration of the reign of God, a day for subversive remembering so we can be revived and renewed in the ongoing holy work for justice, freedom and peace. In light of this we proclaim the subversive good news,
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
May God bless you with discomfort
at easy answers, half truths, and
superficial relationships, so that you
may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger at
injustice, oppression, and
exploitation of people, so that you
may work for justice, freedom and peace.
May God bless you with tears to
shed for those who suffer from
pain, rejection, starvation, and war,
so that you may reach out your
hand to comfort them and to turn
their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with
enough foolishness to believe that
you can make a difference in this world,
so that you can do
what others claim cannot be done.
—A Franciscan Blessing
