Scripture:
How are the saving acts of God proclaimed to people who are completely unfamiliar with the story? This is the challenge first faced by Peter in the 10th Chapter of the book of Acts. He begins with the premise that God's promises are available to everyone and anyone. That's a good place for us to begin too. Hear now Peter's witness to the Gentile Cornelius, found in Acts chapter 10, verses 34-43:

Then Peter began to speak to them: "I truly understand that God shows no partiality, [35] but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him. [36] You know the message he sent to the people of Israel, preaching peace by Jesus Christ--he is Lord of all. [37] That message spread throughout Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John announced: [38] how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and with power; how he went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. [39] We are witnesses to all that he did both in Judea and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree; [40] but God raised him on the third day and allowed him to appear, [41] not to all the people but to us who were chosen by God as witnesses, and who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. [42] He commanded us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one ordained by God as judge of the living and the dead. [43] All the prophets testify about him that everyone who believes in him receives forgiveness of sins through his name."

Paul's letter to the Colossians is an attempt to articulate the wondrous and transforming effects of Baptism. In Baptism, each Christian is raised to new life. The old life is set aside, and the new life is embraced. Later, in Rev. Antal's sermon, we will hear just how dramatic the implications of Paul's words can be. Hear now a reading from the third chapter of Paul's letter to the Colossians, verses 1-4:

So if you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. [2] Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth, [3] for you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. [4] When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.

Hear now the story of the birth of faith, as it occurred for Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the Beloved Disciple on that first Easter morning. I read from the 20th chapter of John, beginning with verse 1:

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. [2] So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him." [3] Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. [4] The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. [5] He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. [6] Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, [7] and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. [8] Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; [9] for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. [10] Then the disciples returned to their homes.

[11] But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; [12] and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. [13] They said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She said to them, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him." [14] When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. [15] Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." [16] Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). [17] Jesus said to her, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, 'I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" [18] Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Sermon:


One of the wonderful aspects of this celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ is that it attracts folks from every corner of the broad field of Christian belief and speculation. Some of you were here a week ago when we heard the nails being driven into the wood that was carried forward at the conclusion of our dramatic rendering of the events of Holy Week. Some of you were here Thursday night when we gathered at the foot of the cross, and stripped the altar bare as a way of participating more fully in Jesus' final days. Some of you are in a church for the first time in a long time -- perhaps not altogether sure why you are here, today. All of us are here because there is that inside us which knows that something very special is available this morning -- right here -- as we worship together.

Listen again to the question which our risen Lord puts to Mary -- a question which each of us must also answer. Jesus asks: "Whom are you looking for?" For Mary, and for us, this is not an idle question. In fact, Jesus' first words in John's Gospel are much the same: when he turns around and notices two men following him, and says to them, "What are you looking for?"

This is a question which Jesus puts to all his disciples -- including each of us. When he first asked the question at the beginning of his ministry, the disciples he addressed had no idea what they were getting into. Three years later, after his death on a cross, their experience and grief had prepared them to receive this question in all of its depth.

Our answers to this question will vary throughout our lives, and even in any given year. But what we are offered on Easter is the promise that if we dare enough to desire it, there is no limit to what we can seek. Jesus is alive. The Lord is risen! Death is overcome. We are set free from every tomb that would hold us.

Perhaps I'm not the only one here who has a little trouble taking in all this on a day by day basis. I know that I'm supposed to be an "Easter Christian" every day of the year. And yet there are just too many days that aren't like that for me. Then Easter comes around. And the significance of Easter is that God rolls back all of our stones that hold us in our tombs, leads us to a place of joy, and invites us to accept all that God has to offer.

And so I ask you: Why did you come this morning? "Whom (or what) are you looking for?"

Any way you look at it, the Easter story is about transformation. At first, it seems that it is about Jesus' transformation--from death to new life. But if that were so, then why is it that none of the Gospels offers an account of the resurrection itself. None attempts to put into words the process that transformed a dead corpse to a living presence. Instead, the Easter morning stories concentrate on what happened to the disciples -- and particularly the women; how their love kept them from losing hope, and how their courage empowered them to accept the miraculous truth that went before them that morning.

On that first Easter morning, the disciples underwent a conversion. Finally, after years of confusion and dedication, stretching and stumbling, they understood that God's promises were for real, and that they were called by God to proclaim this good news to all who would listen.

It's also worth remembering that the transformation took root in each of the disciples in decidedly different ways. Consider for example the contrast between Peter and the beloved disciple when each looks in the tomb. Peter boldly rushes in first, looks around, sees everything and nothing, and leaves. He has seen an empty tomb -- nothing more, nothing less. The beloved disciple enters, looks upon the same scene, and believes. They see the same thing. But in a situation like this, it is the heart, not the eyes, which comprehend; and the beloved disciple's heart was as large as God's promises.

Do we seek the transformation which is offered us this morning -- or will we leave this worship service having looked around, seen everything and nothing, and continue our lives unchanged?

As you're thinking about your answer to that question, I want to share with you two stories of transformation -- two stories which for me are truly Easter stories.

If it is true, as I believe it is, that Christ is crucified again whenever men and women brutalize each other in senseless violence, then surely Gettysburg was Calvary on a horrifyingly large scale. It was one of the bloodiest battles of all time. Fifty thousand men and boys were left dead or wounded or missing when Generals Lee and Meade met in senseless combat. If the Bible is graphic in portraying Lazareth's condition three days after his death, imagine what the fields of Gettysburg were like in the July heat -- with tens of thousands of dead bodies scattered all over, or barely under, the ground. A vain attempt was made to dispose of these bodies in shallow graves, but not long after the last shot had been fired, news of the great battle had reached both North and South, and desperate relatives migrated to the small town of Gettysburg to look for their dead sons and husbands. The grief, squalor, and insanity of it all can hardly be described.

Yet out of this nadir of history's bloodiest civil war, redemption began to emerge when it was decided to organize a great dedication of the burial ground -- one that would match in its importance the proportions of the battle itself.

President Lincoln was invited to offer brief remarks as an afterthought of the organizers. The main speaker was the greatest orator of the time. He saw only an opportunity to vilify the Southern soldiers and glorify the Northern ones. In contrast, when Lincoln stood to offer his stunningly efficient prose, he saw before him the possibility of a resurrection. And by his faith, and vision, and hope -- he made it happen.

That bloody graveyard became the inspiration, not only for the end of slavery, but also for a revisioning of America's founding principles. For in those 272 words, President Lincoln ushered in a commitment to justice and equality which the world had never before imagined.

One man saw division and death. The other saw potential and promise. One disciple saw everything and nothing and left. The other saw the same thing and believed.

Why did you come this morning. "Whom (or what) are you looking for?"

Let me share another Easter story that may help you answer this question.(1) It happened on Easter day, 1973, in a small Ugandan town in the shadow of Idi Amin. Burdened by grief and fear, in search of joy, a crowd of over 7,000 people gathered -- more than had ever attended a Sunday service at the Redeemed Church. They had come with babies in their arms, by foot and on bicycle, old men with walking sticks, and small children with flowers in their arms. They were doctors, lawyers, businessmen, farmers, cotton growers and government workers. When there were no more places to sit in the campground, they climbed the trees, they sat on the roofs of trucks, and they overran nearby yards.

The spiritual hunger of these people was deep, and painfully obvious. They wanted to hear the word of God, and have their lives transformed by its power. And no wonder, for they had been surrounded by a gruesome civil war. During Holy Week, the pastor of the church had seen a face burned beyond recognition, a crowd of soldiers cheering at the death of an innocent civilian, and much more.

What could the pastor give these people? What words could he speak? They needed courage to stand firm in the growing terror. They needed strength to sustain them in suffering. In such times, people do not need words, they need power.

But then the pastor remembered that it was the disciples task only to distribute what God had already given them. As in the feeding of the 5,000, God promises to sustain the people, and those who would serve God must give to all in need an assurance of that promise.

And so the pastor went out and did his best. His words were inspiring, and well received by the thousands. God had been praised, and the pastor was exhausted.

After he greeted a few close friends he went to the parish house, too exhausted to notice that some others had entered behind him, and closed the door. Five of them stood between him and the door, pointing their rifles at his face. Their own faces were scarred with the distinctive tribal cuttings of those who served Idi Amin as his secret police. After a long silence, the tallest man -- obviously the leader -- spoke. "We are going to kill you. If you have something to say, say it before you die." He spoke quietly, and his face was twisted with hatred.

Already exhausted, the pastor realized that he would soon be dead. He thought of his family; he wondered what would happen to them when he was gone. Then, he surrendered his will to God.

Suddenly, as if from far away, he heard a voice saying, "I do not need to plead my own cause," . . . and it was his own voice talking. The voice continued, "I am a dead man already. My life is dead, and hidden in Christ. It is your lives that are in danger. You are dead in your sins. I will pray to God that after you have killed me, God will spare you from eternal destruction."

The tallest one took a step toward the pastor and stopped. Suddenly, his face changed. His hatred turned to curiosity. He lowered his gun and motioned to the others to do the same. They stared at the pastor in amazement, and averted their guns from his face.

Then the tall one spoke again. "Will you pray for us now?" he asked.

"Yes, I will pray for you," he answered. "I will pray to God in heaven. Please bow your heads and close your eyes."

The tall one motioned to the others again, and together the five of them lowered their heads. The pastor bowed his head, but kept his eyes open. He expected, at any moment, to be killed, and he did not want to die with his eyes closed. "God in heaven, you have forgiven people in the past, forgive these men also. Do not let them perish in their sins, but bring them unto yourself."

It was a simple prayer -- a prayer he prayed in fear. And when it ended, and he looked at the five men, he saw that they were not they same men who were there before. Something had changed. They were different now.

Again, the tall one spoke first. His voice was bold, but without contempt. "You have helped us," he said, "and we will help you. We will speak to the rest of our company, and they will leave you alone. Do not fear for your life. It is in our hands and you will be protected."

The pastor drove home that Easter evening deeply puzzled, but with joy in his heart. He had passed from death to life, and understood anew what the Apostle Paul meant when he said "I have been crucified with Christ, and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me."

Later, the assassins began attending the pastor's church and claimed a new commitment to Jesus Christ. They used their positions on behalf of church members whose lives were in danger, and even helped several families escape from Uganda.

The new life which the pastor gained -- and which Christ offers each of us through the resurrection -- does not stand up to the cynical analysis of worldly critics. Only in letting go, did the pastor gain his life, and the lives of many. Our cynicism often keeps us from surrendering -- from turning over our lives -- even to the joy and hope of Easter. It seems too good to be true.

But the challenge of Easter is this: not to pass any test, not to come to any decision, not to conform our will to God's mold, but to surrender ourselves completely to the joy of this day, and to dare to hope that this joy is available every day of our lives.

Amen

Footnote:
1. "Easter Morning", adapted from Readings for Lent and Easter, page 129ff.