We come together this Easter Day to celebrate. Christ is risen, and we affirm: "The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!" We know that this is a happy day, a day to put on our best clothes, a day to plan a wonderful meal, a day to come to church with the whole family, a day to sing glad hymns. But the people we encounter at the tomb in today's Gospel didn't know that. They weren't having springtime thoughts about flowers coming from the dead earth, or caterpillars turning into butterflies. The thought of eggshells cracking open for baby chicks, or of those prolific little bunnies as signs of new life, did not enter their minds. That's because they were still in the middle of the story.
Mary Magdalene was the first one at the tomb that Sunday morning, according to the Gospel. It was dark when she arrived. She didn't come to check and see if Jesus' body was still there. She came, we can only suppose, to grieve. Probably she wasn't sleeping well. After all, the whole world had come crashing down around her head. She had centred all her hope and trust and love in Jesus Christ, and now he had been cruelly executed. When she arrived at the tomb she found that the stone that sealed the tomb had been rolled away. Running to two of his friends, she said, "They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him."
Enter Peter and "the other disciple" into the story. (Most people think that this other disciple is John, since he is referred to as "the one whom Jesus loved.") Peter and John ran to the tomb. They saw the linens, and apparently had some notion about what had gone on, but all they did, at least in this Gospel (John), was go back home. We still don't know a great deal about what their thoughts were, except that John, at least, "saw and believed." Peter and John seem to have "cameo parts" in the story. It tells us much more about Mary Magdalene than about these two disciples.
After Peter and John had gone home, Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. She still thought that someone had taken away the body, and she didn't know where to find it. No wonder the angels asked, "Woman, why are you weeping?" She was asked the same question by Jesus, whom she at first took to be the gardener. She didn't recognize Jesus, the very one she was looking for, because her mind was fixed on finding a dead body. Not until Jesus spoke to her, called her by name, did she know him. At last she had found her Lord. She had come to the tomb with grief in her heart, but her weeping had been turned into joy.
And now here we are, nearly 2,000 years later. We come to church today to celebrate the Resurrection. And, yes, we are dressed up and we are singing those glad hymns, and very probably we will have a good lunch in a little while. But really, aren't we like Mary Magdalene in many ways? Don't we, too, carry around a lifetime of grief in our souls? Perhaps it is the loss of loved ones that causes us grief. Perhaps it is the frustrations and disappointments we have suffered in our lives. Perhaps it is the weight of our own sins, the bad choices we have made in our lives. Perhaps we bear the wounds of pain inflicted by others. Perhaps physical ailments weigh us down. Yes, we believe that Christ is risen. We know we have cause for great joy this Easter Day. But the grief is there, too. However, like Mary, we have a Friend who understands, a Friend who calls us by name. Today, as we celebrate the Resurrection, we can put down our grief at the feet of Jesus, and when he calls our name, we can answer, "Rabbouni! Teacher!"
And finally, look at what Mary did next. Following the Lord's command, she went to the disciples and said: "I have seen the Lord." And she told them everything that Jesus had said to her.
We who gather in this place also see the Lord today. Do we recognize him? We hear him call us by name. Jesus is made known to us as we read the Holy Scriptures, as we receive the Body and Blood, and as we enjoy the presence of our brothers and sisters. And, like Mary, we are called to share with others the Good News of God in Jesus Christ. At the end of this liturgy, we will be dismissed to go forth. Perhaps we need a special form of the dismissal today: "Go in peace and tell the world that you have seen the Lord. Alleluia! Alleluia!"
Sunday, 23 March 2008
Sunday, 9 March 2008
Ezekiel 37.1-14
Many of us hearing today’s Old Testament reading from Ezekiel – that rich and vivid story about the valley of dry bones – instantly remember the words of a song learned in childhood. These words:
The toe bone connected to the foot bone,
The foot bone connected to the ankle bone,
The ankle bone connected to the leg bone,
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the hip bone,
The hip bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the shoulder bone,
The shoulder bone connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone connected to the head bone,
Less easy to recall, however, are the song’s opening words:
God called Ezekiel one morning,
“Go down and prophesy.”
Ezekiel taught the Zion the powers of God,
And the bones begin to rise.
We’re going to walk around with-a dry bones.
Why don’t you rise and hear the word of the Lord?
The words, of course, come from an old spiritual. There can be little wonder why it emerged out of the experience of African Americans in the southern United States. It welled up from the midst of a people trapped in that dark period of history when legalised slavery still prevailed – when whites stole the labour of captive Africans, who as slaves, mostly embraced the Christian religion of those who enslaved them.
It is easy to understand why those who had, against their wills, been removed to North America found in the stirring words of Ezekiel great cause for hope – easy to understand how they translated that imagery into a song that could help them walk as human beings in the cotton fields of oppression. They understood, like no others, the experience of Ezekiel’s people.
The Israelites of old were also a people enslaved by foreign masters. They had been forcibly removed from their native land into exile, far from their beloved home and accustomed ways, compelled to toil in the service of a conquering nation. Though alive, they felt like they were dead. They were a people without hope. Like a nation of dry bones, they cried out in their misery as all enslaved people must.
In today’s Old Testament lesson, we hear the prophet Ezekiel sharing in vivid detail how God carried him in a vision to a valley full of dry bones – bones symbolic of the rotted bodies of a subjugated people. Then, as the prophet watched in astonishment, the bones were covered with muscle and flesh, and once more encased in skin. They were alive again!
Then Ezekiel prophesied as God instructed him. He told the people of Israel, enslaved in exile, that this vision was God’s way of saying that their lives, all but dead from depression, distress and despair, would have breath put back in them and flesh and muscle returned to their bones. They would be a nation reborn. For those slaves of old, those Israelites separated from home and in bondage, Ezekiel’s vision gave new hope as they dreamed of a time when they would once again be free and whole and could return to their beloved Jerusalem.
There is little wonder why African American slaves embraced this story from the Old Testament as their own. And despite their misery, as they suffered cruel injustice, they gained the same hope as the ancient Israelites. They knew that God gave them a reason to live despite the fact that they were enslaved; a reason to live despite the fact that in spirit, emotion and self-esteem they were mere skeletons of the powerful men and women they had been in Africa; a reason to live despite how often they thought their fate was doomed; a reason to live despite how much they felt they were as good as dead.
Despite all this, their faith gave them the hope of hopes, empowering them to sing with joy, happiness, and trust – to sing a truth that they would indeed rise like the dry bones of Ezekiel’s forsaken valley.
But what is the lesson for those of us who live in a day when human slavery is considered unthinkably obscene? For us, not forced into exile or bound in chains, what can we learn?
Above all, we can recall, as our Lenten discipline reminds us, that we, too, are often subjugated by strong powers – the powers of evil – leaving us enslaved in sin: the sin of selfishness; the sin of neglecting those in need; the sin of lying, cheating, and stealing; the sin of greed and prejudice; the sin of ignoring God again and again.
Such spiritual enslavement turns us away from God’s ways and separates us from our Saviour. It leaves us in a land as desolate as Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones – spiritually dead, mere skeletons who have lost our religious muscle and skin of faith.
What hope is there for us who have erred and strayed from God’s way like lost sheep? The hope is that which Ezekiel envisioned. In our own barren valleys of the soul, we can follow them, gaining strength by realizing there is renewal. We can find new life for these dry bones of ours. We can find the will to move beyond spiritual despair and to embrace the hope that lies in a loving and forgiving God – a God who takes our pitiful spiritual skeletons and gives them flesh and muscle, who takes the spiritually dried-out bones of our faith and gives them life in all abundance.
The African slaves, brothers and sisters in Christ, reach out to us in this generation, from a terrible time in the past to take heart from the word of the prophet. They remind us that God treats us the same as those dry bones of Ezekiel, offering us rebirth, again, and again, and again. When we stumble, our Saviour is there, calling us out of the slavery we have created for ourselves into the light of love and forgiveness. They remind us that as we, through self examination and rising up to hear God’s word, find the Lenten valley of our sinful dry bones, we can, through repentance and the grace of God, go walking with lives restored.
The toe bone connected to the foot bone,
The foot bone connected to the ankle bone,
The ankle bone connected to the leg bone,
The leg bone connected to the knee bone,
The knee bone connected to the thigh bone,
The thigh bone connected to the hip bone,
The hip bone connected to the back bone,
The back bone connected to the shoulder bone,
The shoulder bone connected to the neck bone,
The neck bone connected to the head bone,
Less easy to recall, however, are the song’s opening words:
God called Ezekiel one morning,
“Go down and prophesy.”
Ezekiel taught the Zion the powers of God,
And the bones begin to rise.
We’re going to walk around with-a dry bones.
Why don’t you rise and hear the word of the Lord?
The words, of course, come from an old spiritual. There can be little wonder why it emerged out of the experience of African Americans in the southern United States. It welled up from the midst of a people trapped in that dark period of history when legalised slavery still prevailed – when whites stole the labour of captive Africans, who as slaves, mostly embraced the Christian religion of those who enslaved them.
It is easy to understand why those who had, against their wills, been removed to North America found in the stirring words of Ezekiel great cause for hope – easy to understand how they translated that imagery into a song that could help them walk as human beings in the cotton fields of oppression. They understood, like no others, the experience of Ezekiel’s people.
The Israelites of old were also a people enslaved by foreign masters. They had been forcibly removed from their native land into exile, far from their beloved home and accustomed ways, compelled to toil in the service of a conquering nation. Though alive, they felt like they were dead. They were a people without hope. Like a nation of dry bones, they cried out in their misery as all enslaved people must.
In today’s Old Testament lesson, we hear the prophet Ezekiel sharing in vivid detail how God carried him in a vision to a valley full of dry bones – bones symbolic of the rotted bodies of a subjugated people. Then, as the prophet watched in astonishment, the bones were covered with muscle and flesh, and once more encased in skin. They were alive again!
Then Ezekiel prophesied as God instructed him. He told the people of Israel, enslaved in exile, that this vision was God’s way of saying that their lives, all but dead from depression, distress and despair, would have breath put back in them and flesh and muscle returned to their bones. They would be a nation reborn. For those slaves of old, those Israelites separated from home and in bondage, Ezekiel’s vision gave new hope as they dreamed of a time when they would once again be free and whole and could return to their beloved Jerusalem.
There is little wonder why African American slaves embraced this story from the Old Testament as their own. And despite their misery, as they suffered cruel injustice, they gained the same hope as the ancient Israelites. They knew that God gave them a reason to live despite the fact that they were enslaved; a reason to live despite the fact that in spirit, emotion and self-esteem they were mere skeletons of the powerful men and women they had been in Africa; a reason to live despite how often they thought their fate was doomed; a reason to live despite how much they felt they were as good as dead.
Despite all this, their faith gave them the hope of hopes, empowering them to sing with joy, happiness, and trust – to sing a truth that they would indeed rise like the dry bones of Ezekiel’s forsaken valley.
But what is the lesson for those of us who live in a day when human slavery is considered unthinkably obscene? For us, not forced into exile or bound in chains, what can we learn?
Above all, we can recall, as our Lenten discipline reminds us, that we, too, are often subjugated by strong powers – the powers of evil – leaving us enslaved in sin: the sin of selfishness; the sin of neglecting those in need; the sin of lying, cheating, and stealing; the sin of greed and prejudice; the sin of ignoring God again and again.
Such spiritual enslavement turns us away from God’s ways and separates us from our Saviour. It leaves us in a land as desolate as Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones – spiritually dead, mere skeletons who have lost our religious muscle and skin of faith.
What hope is there for us who have erred and strayed from God’s way like lost sheep? The hope is that which Ezekiel envisioned. In our own barren valleys of the soul, we can follow them, gaining strength by realizing there is renewal. We can find new life for these dry bones of ours. We can find the will to move beyond spiritual despair and to embrace the hope that lies in a loving and forgiving God – a God who takes our pitiful spiritual skeletons and gives them flesh and muscle, who takes the spiritually dried-out bones of our faith and gives them life in all abundance.
The African slaves, brothers and sisters in Christ, reach out to us in this generation, from a terrible time in the past to take heart from the word of the prophet. They remind us that God treats us the same as those dry bones of Ezekiel, offering us rebirth, again, and again, and again. When we stumble, our Saviour is there, calling us out of the slavery we have created for ourselves into the light of love and forgiveness. They remind us that as we, through self examination and rising up to hear God’s word, find the Lenten valley of our sinful dry bones, we can, through repentance and the grace of God, go walking with lives restored.
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