The Letter and the Spirit

Matthew 5:21-37; Deuteronomy 30:15-20; Psalm 119:1-8; 1 Corinthians 3:1-9

(look these up on biblegateway.com or bible.oremus.org.)

Last week, the Gospel raised some uncomfortable questions.  You might remember Jesus’ saying (Matt. 5:17-18) “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law and the prophets.  I have come not to abolish, but to fulfill.  Truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter nor one stroke of a letter will pass from the law until all is accomplished.”  When I read the Gospel for this morning, I really wanted to handle these passages together, because they do sound just a little bit ominous and perhaps even provoke a certain sense of fear—especially these verses about tearing out eyes and cutting off hands and going to hell and so forth.

So what on earth does Jesus mean?  Last week it all sounded so inspiring: Be salt.  Be light.  This week the teachings seem so hard.  So where I would like to start addressing this question is with...Love.

Love is the message of the Gospel and the measure of the law.

What I believe Jesus is trying to say in these texts is that there are plenty of opportunities to merely follow the letter of the law, without putting our heart into it.  Other times, we follow both the letter and the spirit of the law.  Probably more often than not, we even know when we are doing this.  We might call it ‘going through the motions.’  We might wonder what we can get away with, rather than wondering how we might, say, go the extra mile.  Or we might also head to the other extreme, which is becoming legalistic, too committed to the letter of the law to recognize the spirit.

Why do we do this?  Sometimes I think it’s because we’re overwhelmed by all those "opportunities," the long list of choices we have to make every day.  Or perhaps we’re angry or tired, or convinced we know better, or whatever. Sometimes I think it’s because we’re afraid of being hurt if we truly put our heart into something or make ourselves vulnerable to one another. 

And yet, what a relief often comes when we know we have truly put our heart into something, especially the example Jesus gives of going to be reconciled to a person you know you’ve hurt, before making your offering in worship.  This being Valentine’s weekend, it reminds me of an adage that’s kept harmony in our own home:  “You can be ‘right,’ or you can be married.”  And then there’s Jesus' example of adversaries going into court:  you could litigate to the very bitter end, spending all your energy and money in the process—or you could find a way to settle before it gets there…and be able to get on with the rest of your lives.  Anyone who’s been through painful litigation, even a divorce, can probably resonate with that.

And yet, to reconcile or to settle is not to act as if you’ve never caused harm, or been harmed, as the case may be, or as if whatever happened didn’t matter.  Jesus isn’t talking about cheap grace.  Rather, love holds each other accountable to our actions within the life of the community.

Accountability for our actions is also what makes forgiveness possible.  Forgiveness isn’t forgetting, because mere forgetting fails to acknowledge the existence of the law in the first place, or that there was ever a need to be forgiven when we have failed one another.  I would even say that forgetting is harder than forgiving, because somewhere on down the line, something will happen that will bring back that memory, and it will probably still hurt, maybe even with a hurt as fresh and raw as the day it happened.  We probably all have enough of our own examples already.  Forgiving is both acknowledging the truth of events, and loving either one another or even ourselves, enough to let go of that hurt’s grip on the rest of our lives.  In doing so, we choose to truly live.

Now, that’s not easy.  We probably couldn’t fathom doing such a thing as forgiving others, or asking someone else to forgive us, without the help of God, who first forgave us and freed us to forgive one another and to be forgiven.  And even more practically speaking, we need our community around us, to hold us accountable, and to help us through the process of forgiveness, when we have failed to fulfill our obligations to one another.

++

The last few weeks here have been a bit of a blur and today, this final day, and final worship service, and final hour of service to you as your pastor, has come around really rather quickly.  I realized as this day was drawing near that there was no possible way to make all the visits, or phone calls, or even to write all the notes that I would have liked to do.  It would not be possible to follow through on every request, or even every hope for projects I wanted to complete before going.  And I was deeply distressed about not being able to ‘do it all.’

Then, in preparation for today, I read through the liturgy that we’ll be using at the end of the worship service, which brings a prayerful end to our ministry together, and I found it very comforting. 

I realized then what a gift it is in this liturgy that we will use today, to simply ask forgiveness for all the things I could not do.  It is a gift to be forgiven, even in the midst of celebrating and remembering all the things that have been done, the visits and calls made and projects completed and hopes realized and all the good things of these past two years as well. 

And, I realized, that I would have to rely on the Christian community that is present in this place, to care for everyone and help those in need, after today when I am no longer able to do so.  I also realized that I would have to put my trust in God, and in whoever comes to take my place, that the work of ministry and pastoral care will continue.

Paul put it so well when he wrote that one of us might plant and another water, but it is God who gives the growth.  We are each called to our times and means of serving, and we each have gifts through which we may share God’s love, which is the common purpose for everything we do.  I realize today that we may, some of us, not see each other again in this lifetime, but will only be reunited in heaven.  We have been God’s servants, working together; you are God’s servants and God’s building.  I give thanks for you, and for the time we have shared together.  I love you, and I leave you with peace.

Amen.

Hymns:  Thy Word Is A Lamp Unto My Feet, Seek Ye First, We Are One In The Spirit, Make Me A Channel Of Your Peace

Prayers This Week For:

+People of Syria

+All who struggle with the winter weather

+All who are in entrenched conflicts or struggling with relationships

From Trafficking to Freedom

Human trafficking today, our modern forms of slavery, recall today's Scripture passages about the Israelites being in exile, Paul being in prison, and some surprising advice from Jesus to his disciples on how to become servant leaders:

Lamentations 1:1-6, Psalm 137, 2 Timothy 1:1-14, Luke 17:5-10
(Look these up at bible.oremus.org or biblegateway.org)

A Provocative Gospel

Friends, I bet you’ve noticed the Gospel of Luke….is a pretty provocative one:  as we’ve covered these past few weeks, it’s the gospel of the 99%, the gospel where the poor are lifted up and the mighty taken down a few notches, it’s a gospel that flies in the face of the status quo.  If you haven’t gone home offended yet by some of these gospel stories, I’d be surprised.  Luke’s Jesus doesn’t mince words.  Yet sometimes even a blunt Jesus can be a little hard to understand.

We also have in the readings today the psalm of exile in Babylon, and the passage from Lamentations of a people thrown into exile.  Throughout our study of Jeremiah, we heard this time was coming, and now it is here.

Photo: Alamy

The Devastation of Exile

So the people are now in exile, and they lament.  They have lost everything.  

Exile meant that after the city was conquered and destroyed, all the best and brightest were taken off to Babylon as labor to build its own cities and civilization instead of Jerusalem.  This wasn’t supposed to happen:  hadn’t they already been delivered out of Egypt?  Yet, here they are again, far from home, and held captive.  

There’s a new film coming out, Twelve Years A Slave, which is already being hailed as the ‘Schindlers’ List’ of American slavery.  I hope that when it arrives here, that some of us might take a field trip to go see it.  For most of us who are white, we can’t begin to realize how enormous a trauma slavery was and how it still affects the Black community in our country today.  Slavery involves exile, because people were taken from their homes and lives against their will, loaded onto boats, carried across the oceans, to become a labor force for a different race of people. But perhaps we can begin to understand even a glimpse of that experience by hearing these scriptures this morning in all their pain and bitterness.

God, Grief, and Suffering Seeking Meaning

In the Psalm today, the Babylonian captors asked their Israelite captives to sing their songs of Zion.  Now, a Song of Zion is a song about Jerusalem, and by that time in their faith lives, the Temple had become understood as God’s home.  Now they felt they were separated by God because they were separated from God’s home by a thousand miles!

You can also hear a painful Grief response in the scriptures, one that goes something like:  “I must have done something really awful to deserve this,  someone I love must be really angry with me; even God must be really angry with me!”

I think we often desire meaning in suffering, to know that our suffering is not for nothing.  And yet that desire we have meaning does not mean that our suffering is God’s plan, and it doesn’t even mean that our suffering is for some greater good.  I know that it hurts, but sometimes suffering is caused for no good purpose.  Sometimes it’s caused by purely evil purposes, one human against another with utter inhumanity.  Sometimes the only greater good would be for it to end.

Yet, the exiled Israelites believe that only the Lord can end their pain.  After all, this is still the God that led them out of Egypt and the slavery there.

So, let’s go back to putting ourselves in their shoes.  You can imagine that, right?  You can imagine how people uprooted from everything they’ve ever known, and knowing they have next to no chance of returning to that life, and being subjected to cruelty and domination every day of the rest of their lives?  People who have lost their children and parents and spouses to unimaginable violence?  They wouldn’t blink at exacting even a fraction of pain out of their oppressors like they’ve experienced.  They’re angry enough to kill their enemies’ children, as it says in the psalm.  In the same shoes, we might feel the same way.

And yet, really, they couldn’t retaliate, since it would probably cost them their lives, the last thing they had left.  American slaves knew this, and suffered severe beatings and killings.  People in prostitution and housekeeping today, are often in the same situation of fearing harm to selves or to loved ones if they were to stand up for themselves, or try to escape.

Human Trafficking:  What Does It Look Like?

One of our peacemaking themes for this season is human trafficking.  Trafficking is when exploits another human being in order to make a profit:  whether prostitution or pornography, corrupt forms of adoption, under-the-table household help, even exploiting people migrating in hopes of a better future.  Homeless teenagers are even trafficked in the streets of Madison at night, in order to pay for a place to sleep.

Of Slaves and Servant Leadership

So, with this understanding of slavery and trafficking in mind, let’s talk about today’s Gospel, which probably just got a whole lot less comfortable for us.  After all, Jesus and this mustard seed parable invoke a master/slave relationship.  Jesus asks the disciples if they would call their slave in after working all day and feed him dinner and wait on him.  Well, no, probably they’d rather have him keep working until they were fed.  But Jesus is training these disciples to be the future leaders of the church, not to have people wait on them because of their status, but for them to model servant leadership by waiting on those with least status.  If people want to applaud them for their service, they shouldn’t gloat, they should simply say, “we did what we ought to have done!”

Solidarity in Suffering

And servant leadership can involve even more difficult situations as well.  After all, Paul is in prison as he’s writing Timothy, offering instruction in Christian leadership.  Paul, who is suffering, is telling Timothy not to be ashamed that he is suffering, but to join him in that suffering, for the sake of the gospel.  The risks are high.  Yet there is hope, something even beyond the threat of captivity and death.

Bringing Hope for Freedom

You may have heard of Frederick Douglass, who said, “I prayed for twenty years and God didn’t answer until I started praying with my legs.”  In escaping his nightmare, he became one of the best speakers and advocates for ending the practice of African-American slavery.

Friends, even though these are difficult issues and moments in history to reflect on, I want you to leave here today knowing that there is also hope, and cause in rejoicing:  In the past, Presbyterian churches were among those working with the Underground Railroad, and fighting for equality afterwards even up through the time of Martin Luther King Jr.  To meet the needs of people trafficked and enslaved today, ministries supported through the Peacemaking program bring hope for freedom; work on advocacy for better protections; ministries of healing for survivors.  Sowing peace where anger exists.  Helping create conditions which allow people to work with dignity where they live, so don’t have to fall victim to traffickers in a strange land.

"Set Free" by ajosephproject.com

We know we can’t do it all, but we are able to help do a few good things.  And in the meantime, we can weep with our brothers and sisters who are far away, even in the past, and begin to understand when pain is carried forward.  And we can do so knowing we are not alone, but knowing that God is with us, just as God is with all who suffer and especially those who are being held against their will.  Nothing will ever separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus.  Thanks be to God!

Prayers this week:

On festival of St. Francis, we give thanks for our animal companions and the joy they bring to our lives; and we remember with love those pets who have died.

For all who find themselves trapped and waiting for freedom.

For the peacemaking ministries of the PCUSA, especially those who work for the healing of survivors, and ministering to all who have been impacted or may be tempted to acts of violence.

For the many African people who died when their smuggler’s boat capsized in the ocean this week, who were fleeing violence and poverty in their home countries.

The Lord's Prayer

[This is a reflection on the Lord's Prayer which I gave at the funeral of one of our long-time members who recently passed. Friends of Florice who would like the full eulogy may request a hard copy by calling the church office].

The Lord's Prayer may be found in Luke 11:1-4; a second Gospel reading for the service, which is referenced at the end of this message, is John 11:23-28

Friends,

Florice asked that I give the homily this evening on the Lord’s Prayer, and I thought we might begin by praying it together.  You may pray using the words with which you are most comfortable.

Our Father in heaven, Hallowed be your name.  

Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread, and forgive us our sins,

as we forgive those who sin against us.

Lead us not into temptation, and deliver us from evil.

For yours is the kingdom, the power and the glory, now and forever.  Amen.

++

It’s a simple prayer, which Jesus gave to the disciples to use as a daily communication between themselves and God.  It’s poetic.  It resonates at some deep level for many of us, reminding us of that which is larger than ourselves, and those things which are timeless and eternal.  Although different branches and generations of Christianity have slight variations of the prayer, the core remains true.

We address God intimately, as Father, the source of our lives, with authority in our lives but not a cruel authority: rather, a fatherhood characterized by a loving, trusting relationship, for all fathers to follow in raising their children.  We remember that Jesus often referred to God not even as ‘Father’ in the formal sense, but as Abba, or ‘Daddy,’ in his own language of Aramaic Hebrew, when he prayed.

With that intimate greeting in place, we ask that God’s will be done on earth as it is done in heaven.  This is a bold and courageous request--because what God does in heaven may not be what we really want to happen in our own lives.  After all, we are so easily tempted to anger and self-interest.  It may require of us to be more giving and gracious than we really wanted to be.  Where we might want to separate ourselves from others we dislike, we realize that heaven is built around reunion and reconciliation.  When we might want to surround ourselves with comfort, the needs of our neighbors, especially the needs of the poor--and God’s will that we care for them--might make us quite uncomfortable.

We ask that God will provide our daily bread--the basic materials for our continued existence here on earth.  We know that many people around the world lack access to such basic food, and we are compelled to give further, to ensure we do not hoard for ourselves but rather share that which others need to survive.

Just as essential as bread is to our daily lives, we remember that forgiveness of harm is essential to peaceful living on our earth.  Those of us who allow resentments to build up over time face so much additional pain and stress in our lives, or face the deterioration of our own health and well-being, or find that resentments builds into violence which endangers human life at all levels.  We do not live by bread alone, but also by that love which God first gave to us.

We know that in our daily lives we may indeed face temptation and evil.  We pray to be delivered of temptation, that we may not inflict evil against another person or even ourselves.  At the same time, even in those times where we have evil inflicted against us, we remember that nothing can separate us from the love of God.  

We close the prayer by remembering that the kingdom, the power, and the glory are God’s, now and forever.  These things can never be taken by any earthly ruler, no matter how terrible, and this has been a comfort to God’s people everywhere and in every time that has faced cruel dictators, or exile, or the destruction of homelands due to human warfare.  This is as much a call for justice and peace in all places as it is a proclamation of praise.  We also find comfort in knowing that this is forever, an eternal promise, that we too--no matter when or how we die, and no matter what we may face in life--we can trust in this promise, that the kingdom is forever God’s, and we, too, will be reunited in that kingdom, even though death separates us from here.  

In the Gospel reading today we hear Jesus promising Martha that Lazarus will rise again even though he has died; and we know as Martha did that Jesus is the Resurrection and the Life.  We believe that in Christ, through God’s grace, we will never die, but that we will be welcomed and received into God’s family in that heavenly home, reunited with our mothers and fathers, our sisters and brothers, even our beloved teachers or dear students or our kind friends.  Friends, may you find comfort this day in a promise made so long ago, but which is just as true today, and will be so forever.

Amen.

Parting Words (Mothers’ Day; Ascension)

Acts 1:1-11; Psalm 47, Ephesians 1:15-23; Luke 24:44-53

This is my last planned Sunday in the pulpit before maternity leave, which is oddly appropriate since it’s also Mothers’ Day.   I want to tell you one story about preparing my family for the new baby:  I was snuggling with Sophie (my 3 year old) earlier this week and asking her if she remembered how we went to the hospital a year or so ago to get Sam.  She said yes.  I explained that when [Maya] was ready, we’d go to the hospital and get her too, but only when she was ready--and we wouldn’t know when to go until she was ready!  Sophie repeated, “when Maya is ready, we go to the hospital.”  Wow, Good, I thought.  She understands.

Twenty minutes later, after breakfast, Sophie stands up from the table, looks at me and says, “I’m ready, let’s go to the hospital!”  She looked at me like, “what are you waiting for?”  But, as we all know, it just isn’t up to her or me!

Pregnant Expectations: Patience and Waiting

If we can understand a child’s impatience to see her new sister, or even if we know the feeling of waiting for a baby to be born and not quite knowing when--which I know is a theme for many families in our church this spring and summer--then maybe we can understand how the disciples felt, standing on that hill on Ascension Sunday.  Jesus told them not to leave Jerusalem, but to wait for the Holy Spirit, which would come to them, “not many days from now.”  And the disciples asked Jesus, “Lord, is this the time when you will restore the kingdom to Israel?”  They really were anxious to know--not only when they would see Jesus again, but also when the world would be made just, when the Roman military would be gone from their country and they’d be in charge again.  A lot was wrapped up in their expectations of what was coming next.  So we can understand their disappointment when Jesus told them, “It is not for you to know the times which the Father has set by his own authority.”

Still, there was something in store for them as they waited.  Jesus also said, “You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea, and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”  Basically, they will be given an incredibly important and massive task.  This seems like a lot of news to absorb, so we can understand why they all stood there gaping when Jesus then is lifted up to heaven and out of sight!  

Same Story, Way Different Endings: Choose Your Own Adventure?

Now, I want to back-track for a moment, because maybe you noticed that there were two Ascension stories read this morning.  I would like to point out that they were even written by the same author--the same guy wrote both Luke and Acts, which are really to be read as Book One and Book Two.  Luke covers what Jesus did, and Acts covers what the disciples did, and this story sort of overlaps.  However, did you notice the difference in how the story ends?  In Luke, the disciples hear what Jesus has to say and head on down the mountain worshipping God and with great joy and spending all their time in the temple blessing God.  But in Acts, the ending changes, and the same disciples are just dumbfounded that Jesus has left after giving them this huge task, so much so that two angels come and say, “What are you waiting for? He’s gone, and he’ll come back when he’s ready!”

To be honest, if I put myself in their shoes, I’d be more like the second version.  And I might be thinking, ‘And you want me to do what?  And you want me to do it how?’  

As one of my colleagues put it recently, this sounds an awful lot like the day you learn to ride your bike without training wheels.  Sure, you’ve gotten good at it with the supports there, but this is a major step.  There is a real risk of falling, or failing.  And yet, we’re not entirely powerless--just as Jesus says, the Holy Spirit will give the disciples power to be witnesses, even to the ends of the earth.  It is not a hopeless task for people abandoned by God.  Although Jesus had physically disappeared from their sight, the Holy Spirit was still present, equipping them to make a difference in the world.  And certainly the Holy Spirit is present with us now, whether we realize it or not, equipping us also to make a difference in the world!  This is a good reason to go out with joy, and whether here or anywhere, to continually bless and praise God.

Go, My Children, With My Blessing:

I’d like to take a moment and talk about this blessing, which is a word used throughout the scriptures today.  Jesus is blessing the disciples, the disciples are blessing God--at least in one version of the story; and Paul writes to the church at Ephesus, which is in Turkey, that he does not cease to give thanks for them.  Everyone is blessing one another, or giving thanks or praising them, and that’s kind of neat.  And also I think kind of essential for everyone keeping up each others’ spirits in the work that they are doing.  I might also say that I wonder what Jesus was thinking in that moment of taking leave.  After all, he knew the disciples, probably knew well that dumbfounded look, knew what hijinks they had been up to before and what mistakes they might make in the future.  Still, he blessed them, and commended the Holy Spirit to them to help them--as human as they were, and with all their foibles.

Which brings me back to us here in this church.  Just as the scripture has a lot of parting words, I suppose at least for a time, I have a few parting words about the next few weeks of my leave.  You’ll probably still see me with our family on Sundays, though we’ll be hanging out in the back pew.  I give thanks for all the people who will lend a hand while I’m taking time to focus on our family, because I know that the church is in good hands, between the Session, and Pastor Nancy who is coming to help, and with the Deacons, and in the office with Priscilla and Sue and Dave and Marge.  I know that during this time, I’ll get to experience our church from a different view, and hear someone else preach, and those will both be blessings to me.  There will be some days when I’m away--for example, one weekend I’m co-presiding at my best friend’s wedding in Chicago; another Sunday I’m accepting an invitation to visit our neighbors over at Hillcrest [Bible Church, also here in Oregon].  If we’re up to it, I might even spend one Sunday back at my home church in Iowa.  These opportunities to be in different places are also blessings to me.  We’ve got plenty of plans for when I get back to work, what with camp and the mission trip and even the Mallards game, and those are all exciting as well.  But whether I am away or I am here, I give thanks always for you, because I know of your faith and your love in this congregation, and I know that the Holy Spirit is with you in all your efforts to serve the Lord.  Let us bless one another and give thanks for one another, knowing we are not alone in our tasks, but continually aware of God’s presence.  And let us go forth from this place in joy.  Amen.

An Empty Tomb (Easter 2013)

John 20:1-18; Acts 10:34-43; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; Psalm 118

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

Christ has risen.  Christ has risen indeed, Alleluia!

The story goes, early, on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary came and saw the stone had been removed from the tomb, so she ran and told Peter and John, that they have taken the Lord and we do not know where they have laid him.

So they begin to run, and they get there, and they see what they see, yep, he’s gone, and they go home.  End of story, right?  He went somewhere, or someone took him at least; nice of them to fold the linens before going.  The end. Or so it seems to the disciples.

But Mary stays behind.  She’s weeping.  It’s not enough.  She looks inside the tomb, still weeping, and sees the angels.  And they ask her, ‘why are you weeping?’  And she says again, “they’ve taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”  

And then suddenly, Jesus himself is standing there, and asks, “woman, why are you weeping?”  And she says, as if to a total stranger, “if you have taken him away, tell me where, and I’ll take him away.”

And Jesus looks at her and says, “Maaary!”

And the lightbulb goes on:  that’s the aha moment!

And then Jesus tells her to go.  He has a job for her to do--to tell the disciples that he is risen, and will ascend to their father and their God.

Do you know why church services are ordered the way they are?  We gather in this place, on the first day of the week, praising God, yet maybe the weight of the week before us is still bothering us. Maybe it seems that everything is still dark.  And we confess our  sins--maybe that God seems far away after everything that’s gone on, and we just don’t know how to be reunited.  And then we hear a proclamation that our sins are forgiven--and we rejoice, right?  There’s that “gloria” thing we do....But maybe we don’t get it, or don’t quite understand, or it just doesn’t seem to be enough. We still feel in the dark. So we hear the scripture lessons and the message.  We lift up our hearts with hymns and recite our creeds--even if they might feel more strange to us than familiar.  We offer our lives and our resources in hopes that they’ll do some good.  We pray, and maybe then we can hear that familiar, personal, comforting voice of God.  But even if we have that ‘AHA!’ moment--there’s a surprise.  We can’t stay here.  We have work to do.  Just when we’ve settled in, it’s time to go back out there into that world, the one that so often weighs us down, and proclaim the good news--that Christ is risen, and my God is your God, and our Father is the loving Father of those other folks as well.  

Every Sunday is a little Easter, a little Resurrection.  Good news!  Right?

It’s alright though, if we don’t get that, whether every Sunday, or any Sunday, or even on Easter Sunday.  After all--even Jesus’ closest friends and best students did not get it.

They didn’t expect the Resurrection.  If anything, they expected grave robbers or Roman soldiers to have taken the body.  

And afterwards--well, things weren’t perfect, even among the disciples; we heard right here in the story about the famous competition between Peter and John--or, as you might have heard: the guy that would become the head of the church--and the disciple whom Jesus loved.  That conflict kept on, even to their own students, who finally wrote down these gospels of Mark and John.

And then Mary, who by tradition we say washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair--she doesn’t even recognize Jesus, and thinks he’s just the gardener.  And yet the one who weeps, becomes the first one to spread the proclamation of joy.

The thing is though, questions and not- understanding, doubts and skepticism, even cynicism are essential to faith; faith is not unquestioning belief.  Grant the disciples their due for being human.  After all, God became human to reach humans.

Paul writes, “If for this life only we have hoped for Christ, we are most of all to be pitied.”  Instead, Christ is raised, and not just him, but us also, that death is not the end, but eternal life.  Reunification.  A healing of wounds and grief.  

Miracles will happen, and we won’t necessarily get it.  We’ll be weeping even in the midst of joy.  We will be transformed in some ways and still entirely too human in other ways.  And God is forgiving.  After all, God knows us, and our limitations.  

So even though the disciples were not perfect, and even though we are not perfect--even if we don’t understand any of this stuff that happened that we celebrate today, or celebrate every Sunday--remember:  Jesus Christ is still risen from the dead.  Jesus Christ still calls us by name--knows us even when we don’t recognize Him, even if we mistake Jesus for a total stranger.  And Resurrection happens, even when we least expect it.  And that is reason for real joy, in spite of ourselves even, on this day, and always.

Christ is risen!  Christ is risen indeed!  Alleluia!  

Alleluia!

The peace of Christ be with you!  Amen.