Sermon – Luke 24.1-12, EV/ED, YC, April 16, 2022

Tags

alleluia, church, Easter, God, Good News, Jesus, joy, normal, pandemic, resurrection, Sermon, tentative

For anyone who has grown up where there is significant snow or ice, you learn a new way of walking during wintery weather.  You cannot just boldly and carefreely step out of the house or car.  You learn a technique that admittedly looks silly from afar but can save many a bruised bottom.  You sort of extend your leg and toe and test out the asphalt.  If that feels steady, you put more of your weight on the foot.  If you are not entirely sure, you can lean back a bit to keep search for an ice-free zone.  Like I said, the technique looks a bit ridiculous, but saves you more often than not.

I have been entering into this new era of pandemic in the same tentative way.  Much of our life has begun to resemble what we remember as “normal”:  no masks required in most places, the elimination of social distancing, the occasional handshake or hug – even the church has reintroduced the common communion cup.  But even with all the changes, I still feel a deep-seeded hesitancy in my being.  I thought when all these things changed, I would want to party and celebrate.  Instead, I find myself leaning back and tipping my toe into the new normal.  My body has been on a rollercoaster for far too long to trust this new, exciting time.

A similar thing seems to be happening in our Easter story today.  The women are initially terrified about the news of the empty tomb.  As they remember Jesus’ foretelling of the event, they excitedly embrace the resurrection – only to have the disciples not believe them.  Peter must go see the empty tomb for himself before he will believe the women.  But his response to the empty tomb is to go home – amazed, certainly – but quietly returning home.  They are not singing the alleluias like we do today.  They are not running around town sharing the Good News.  The are gingerly dipping their toes into Christ’s resurrection, still not sure they can trust the joy of Easter.

Sometimes we are like that.  Last night, we spent an hour retelling the salvation narrative of God – story after story of God’s faithfulness and commitment to save the people, no matter how grave their sinfulness or disloyalty.  Last night, we reaffirmed all the good things about our baptism – the very things that make us faithful Christians – even though we struggle everyday to live into our Christian identity.  Today we are saying countless alleluias, proclaiming the tremendous news of the empty tomb, despite the fact we have sometimes felt far away from God during these last two years.  We are in this sacred place together with people who believe, or want to believe, maybe in new garb, maybe with festive meals waiting for us, and yet there is a hesitancy deep inside us – an unwillingness to fully let go of the weight of all that has been in our lives and believe the alleluias our liturgy has us say.

For us, today, the promise is we are in good company.  What God does in the resurrection of Jesus is unfathomable in Jesus’ day – of course the disciples thought the women were telling an idle tale (and their doubt was not just because they kept forgetting Jesus treated women as equal leaders).  When you have watched your whole life crumble, every dream of what you thought life with Jesus would be disintegrate in 24 hours, pivoting to news this tremendously good is not easy.  And besides, there is a lot more to happen – appearances by Jesus, more teaching, and finally the empowerment to share the Good News from the Holy Spirit.  The toe dipping into Easter joy today is totally reasonable and human.

So is your toe dipping today.  If you are not ready to throw off your outer garment and shout at the mountaintops, “Jesus is Risen!  All is well in the world!” that is totally reasonable and human.  The Church is here to keep telling you the story, to send women with a fantastic tale, to remind you hope is still possible, and joy is inevitable.  But the Church is also here to sit with you in quiet rooms, holding your hand, and whispering Good News until you are ready to step firmly onto the ground without hesitation.  Spring has melted the ice, Easter has brought promise, and Jesus lives.  We are here to take the first steps together.  Amen.

On Hugs and New Realities…

Tags

anxious, comfort, COVID, disciples, Eastertide, hugging, Jesus, Messiah, pandemic, party, relieved, slow, solidarity, tense, tentative, touch, trauma, vaccines

Photo credit: https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/hugging-for-20-seconds-a-day-may-reduce-your-stress-2zck2d7h6

A few weeks ago, we met friends for an outdoor playdate with our kids and each other.  We had not seen them in a long time, and all of us had received one or both of our COVID shots.  Excited to see each other, there were lots of squeals and warm words of greeting.  Then my friend did something that shocked my system.  She came in close and said quietly, “I’m going to hug to you now.”  We were both masked and I have always been a “hug person.”  But when she pulled me in for a hug, I realized I have not hugged anyone outside of my immediate family for thirteen months.  I felt simultaneously anxious and comforted, tense and overwhelmingly relieved.  Feeling the conflicted reactions flooded me with a sadness for all that has been lost in this last year and a hopefulness for what is to come.

A year ago, I remember thinking that as soon as this pandemic were over, we were going to have a huge party at church.  As I think back to that sentiment now, I see how naïve it was.  I had no idea how long this would take.  I had no idea we would need vaccines, and when they finally became available, some people would refuse to take them.  I had no idea that even with adults fully eligible, children would not immediately be eligible for vaccinations.  I had no idea there would be no neat and tidy “end” to this pandemic.

And so, instead of a huge party, we are making tentative, slow steps toward a semblance of normalcy:  gathering for Eucharist, but socially distanced, masked and with only about 50 people; outdoor funerals with similar restrictions; thinking through modified baptisms and weddings that will not be the same, but at least can happen; carefully considering how we might sing together, following exceedingly stringent guidelines and regulations; and seeing faces we have missed all year, even if we cannot embrace. 

Watching all of this unfold in Eastertide somehow seems so appropriate.  We often think of Eastertide as the time we joyfully celebrate the resurrection of Jesus, a seven-weeklong party of sorts.  But that was not anything like what Eastertide was for the disciples.  There was fear, disbelief, confusion, denial, and hesitancy.  Even as Jesus offers his body as a proof text, the disciples are more often cowering in upper rooms than throwing parties in the streets.  Coming out of trauma – either of the death of your Messiah or out of a worldwide pandemic – is not instantaneous, straightforward, or clear.  This Eastertide, I have been especially grateful to journey through Eastertide with the disciples.  Somehow, their muddled, messy behavior has been a comfort and sign of solidarity during these strange times.  I hope you are finding similar companionship this Eastertide.  And if you want some modern disciples to walk with you, you are always welcome at Hickory Neck!